#wasn’t gonna post this one but Puzzles asked me to and you KNOW id do anything for puzzles

[kideternity]

[sirtommyholland]

Four Years of Birthdays

A/N: Hey everyone! This isn’t my first time writing for Harry but my first time actually posting it so I’m very excited! This is inspired by the little piece I wrote on Tom Holland’s birthday, I wanted to make a similar concept. Hope you guys like it, and happy birthday to our beloved baby boy Harry Styles! We love you so much!💜

Word Count: 2.4k (she tiny because I suck)

Summary: Harry’s four different birthdays with Y/N in differents points of his life. 

Fluff all the way! with like a little talk about sexual themes because I had to.

poc friendly and plus size friendly (I think, please tell me if I made a mistake!) because we dont blush bright red or swim in men’s clothes in this house💫

2019 - 25th Birthday

Spending his birthday with Y/N was one of Harry’s favourite things. Over the last ten years of his life, she had missed quite a few of them as he was on the road and she was back home in London, going to uni and living a normal life. It was only the last couple of years that he was able to be home on his birthday, his solo career allowing him a bit more freedom to arrange his schedule as he wanted. 

This year, he had wanted to have a quiet birthday, just with his family and close friends. And of course, his girlfriend, who was currently climbing on his back on the bed, trying to coax him out of sleep. 

“Loviee” she whined into the back of his neck between kisses. “Wake up.”

“No.” his voice was deeper than usual as he groaned, trying to bury himself more into the pillows to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. “‘M sleepy.”

“But it’s your birthday.” she protested with a kiss to a small part of his cheek that wasn’t hidden away. “I need to give you your 25 kisses.”

“Just 25?” he frowned, raising his head from the pillow to look back at her. “That’s nowhere near enough! You kiss me more on a regular day.”

“Hmm..” she pretended to ponder his words, one of her hands going up to brush away the soft curls that fell on his forehead. “Then how about I give you a blowie for 25 minutes?”

Even if she couldn’t see his face, she would still be able to hear the grin in his voice. “Now that’s more like it.” He was turning over and laying on his back in a heartbeat, tugging at her thighs to make her straddle him again. 

She complied, throwing one leg over his hips and gently sitting on thighs, not putting her full weight. She leaned down to softly brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times. “Happy birthday, baby.”  she sighed against them, rubbing her nose against his lovingly. 

“Thank you, angel.” he smiled, letting his hands roam over the soft material of her shirt. “I reckon it’s gonna be the best one so far.” 

“Really? Is there a reason why?” she grinned, feeling like she already knew the answer.

“Because this is the first one I’m waking up with you as my girlfriend. Finally,” he sighed. “I can kiss you for real instead of making a wish for it when I blow out the candles.”

“You’re so cheesy.” she teased with a smile, leaning down to give him another kiss. “I still can't believe you wished for it.”

“Literally every year.” he confirmed, only blushing slightly under her loving gaze. “Honestly don’t know what I’m gonna wish for this time. It’s been the same thing for many years.” 

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” She placed a final peck to his lips, then swiftly got up from his lap. “Now get up, your mum’s expecting us for breakfast.”

“But- but- my blowie!” 

She looked back to see an adorable pout on his lips, one that she almost couldn’t resist. Almost.

“Later.” she promised, pulling him to his feet and laying a few kisses on his neck. “I’m gonna take care of you properly tonight, after your party. Along with your final present.”

“You’re a tease.” he breathed, the meaning behind her words not so hidden. She grinned, and trailed her hand softly down his back until she was grabbing his bum, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“Heyy!” he jumped, trying to grab her before she made a run for the bathroom, and failing.

“Pick your outfit, it takes ages!” she yelled through the closed door, making him huff and fall back on the bed dramatically. 

“Harry Edward Styles!” Well, guess she knew him too well.

“Yes, ma’am!”

2009 - 15th birthday

“Hello.”

Harry raised his head from the plastic cup he was refilling, to see a familiar girl looking at him with a friendly smile. 

“Hi.” he smiled back as he straightened up, silently giving her the cue to go on. 

“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to say that I really liked your performance. You guys were incredible!” 

“Oh, thank you! Of course you’re not bothering me. I’m glad to know you liked it.” He grinned. “We’re at the same school, right? I’ve seen you around before.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never actually talked, I think. I’m Y/N, by the way. Will invited me because I live next door.” she explained, nodding towards his bandmate that was currently hosting his birthday party/small concert in his garage. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself! Next time, I’ll just have to make sure that I invite you myself.”

She grinned at his words. “That’s very nice of you, Harry. Oh, and happy birthday, by the way! I almost forgot.” Right, she was at his birthday party. She already knew his name. 

“Thank you! And thanks for coming.” 

Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, the lights were dimmed and the back entrance of the garage was illuminated with a soft, orange light as his friends brought in the cake. Off-key voices singing him happy birthday filled the space, and he made his way to his friends with a huge smile on his face, Y/N joining the small crowd around him as they waited for him to blow out the candles.

“Don’t forget to make a wish!” one of his mates yelled just as he was leaning towards the cake. 

“Sorry.” he chuckled, then closed his eyes to make his wish. I want to make music. For all my life.

Little did he know, that would be his only wish in the next ten years that didn’t involve the girl that he had just met. 

2016 - 22th birthday

“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two! Everything will be alright if you keep me next to you!”

“What the fuck.” he muttered into his pillow, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if his phone was actually ringing with a Taylor Swift song. But even when he was wide awake after a few minutes he could still hear her melodic voice, so he reached out with a groan and checked the caller ID. Of course.

“How did you manage to change my ringtone all the way from London?” he answered in a groggy voice. 

“Well, good morning to you too, hun, took you long enough! I’m very good, thanks for asking! And I got Niall to do it yesterday, obviously.” 

“... Morning Y/N.” 

“Oh, stop grumbling, it doesn’t suit you. Get up and get ready, I’m gonna facetime you in thirty minutes.” And before he could say anything, she hung up on him. 

He looked at this phone in disbelief. Did she just hang up on me on my birthday?! He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on his face. To be honest, there were a lot of things he couldn’t help when it came to her. 

Half an hour later, when he was freshly showered and dressed, his phone rang with an incoming facetime call just like she said. She probably set an alarm for exactly thirty minutes, he thought fondly.

Her smiling face greeted him as he accepted the call. “Happy birthday, Haz!!”

“Thanks, love.” he chuckled, eyeing the tiny cupcake in front of her through the small screen. “Whatcha got there?”

“That’s your birthday cupcake, made it myself! Was tired of shitty store-bought cake.” 

“I don’t know, it looks kind of ugly.” he joked, grinning at her mock-offended face. “I could do better. I worked in a bakery, ya know.”

“You literally just ran the register and washed the dishes.”

“Still, in a bakery!” 

She was shaking her head at his shit-eating grin, but he could still see a soft smile playing at her lips. It caused his heart to flutter in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to see her smiling at him like that everyday. 

“Anyway, candle time!” she piped, grabbing a lighter from somewhere behind the camera and lighting up the single candle on her tiny cupcake.  

Harry watched her raise the cupcake closer to the camera and she instructed him to make a wish. This routine was familiar to them now. Every year, she would video call with a different type of cake, to make up for not being able to be there with him.

Harry closed his eyes, and made the same wish that he had been making for the last six years of his life. I wish you were mine. 

He opened his eyes and blew lightly towards the screen, her actions matching his as she blew out the candle in his place. She gave a little cheer afterwards, and the brightness of her eyes warmed him up all the way down to his toes, even through a phone screen. 

They talked for a while after that, catching up on each other’s lives and discussing the dates they would be able to meet up again. She hung up with a final ‘happy birthday, love you!’ and then he was left staring at his phone, a small smile still remaining on his face. I wish you were mine. 

And later, when he logged onto his twitter account and tweeted some certain song lyrics, he only cared about one person’s reaction out of millions. 

2018 - 24th birthday

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.” 

Harry turned towards the kitchen door that led to the back garden, seeing her slide it close to make her way towards him.

“Just taking a breather, love.” he said, accepting his woolly coat that she handed him. “Thank you.”

“Didn’t want you to catch a cold.” She sat next to him on the wooden porch bench, wrapped up in her own fuzzy coat. There was another item in her hand, a thick, heavy looking box. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it. 

“Oh, I came here to give it to you. Your final gift.” 

“Y/N.” he sighed. “The others were more than enough.” 

“I don’t think this even counts as my gift, honestly.” She grinned at the puzzled look on his face. “Just open it.” 

He did. Inside was a thick notebook, a scrapbook by the looks of it, that read ‘Happy Birthday Harry! - 2018’ 

He looked at her curiously, but she just smiled and told him to open it again. He turned to the first page, and ran his gaze across the page. His eyes widened in surprise. He quickly flipped a few pages to see that all of them had the same thing; printings. Printed screenshots from various social media platforms, of his fans wishing him a happy birthday. 

“I know you don’t use social media a lot these days.” she explained as he kept reading the tweets glued onto the scrapbook. “But you were trending on Twitter today, and yesterday too, lots of people wishing you a happy birthday and telling how much they loved you. I thought you might want to see it.”

He let out a watery laugh, not being able to tear his gaze away from the book in his hands. He couldn’t help the tears, not really. She had taken the time to print out lots and lots of tweets, instagram posts, everything; she had cut them and put them in this book and added little stickers in between with colorful doodles. And she had done it to carry his fans’ messages to him, she had basically hand-delivered their gifts of love to him.

“Thank you.” he breathed, his voice catching in his throat. “This is… I think this may be the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“Well, like I said, it’s not technically from me. I just put some tweets together, your fans are the ones who wrote them.” She paused, then added. “I just wanted you to see just how loved you are. By everyone. You have such a kind heart, and an amazing soul; all of these people are aware of it and they love you for it.” She tapped the book in his lap, emphasising her words. 

“Thank you.” he repeated himself, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the book and carefully put it back in its box, intending to read everything in it later. He placed it beside him, then turned to her and pulled her in a hug. 

Her arms were around him in a second, not hesitating to tighten around him and pull him closer. She was so warm even in the cold weather, and she smelled so nice, and he wouldn’t be able to pull back if he tried. He didn’t know how long they sat there in each other's embrace, but when he felt her starting to lean back, something in him shifted. He turned his head towards her as she pulled away, so his cheek was softly grazing hers. She stilled a bit, looking into his eyes as if she was looking for something, then she closed her eyes and turned the rest of the way, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss. 

His breath hitched in his throat as his lips slightly parted, a small gasp making its way out of them when he realized finally, finally he was kissing her. He was kissing Y/N. This was really happening.

He brought a hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as they kissed, probably the softest, the most incredible kiss of his life. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe how amazing she felt against him, how her hands in his hair felt just right, how warm her cheek was under his hand. 

But despite every bone in his body wanting to kiss her forever, he was the first one to pull away, because he just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “I wish you were mine.” 

“What?” she asked breathlessly, apparently still under the effect of their kiss.

“I wish you were mine.” he repeated. “That’s the wish I’ve made on every single birthday since I was sixteen. Everytime you looked at me and told me to make a wish, I was only able to think about how much I wanted to kiss you.” 

She stared at him with parted lips, looking into his eyes like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with him. She could only see love and admiration. 

“You’re an idiot, Harry Styles.” she breathed. Then, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again, and again, and again, and he felt like everything in his life was finally going to be okay. 

 some end notes: Sooo I’m sorry for the kind of shitty ending. It’s literally 3 am in Turkey rn and I have an early class but I just wanted to finish this quickly and post it before I went to bed. I haven’t written anything in months because I wasn’t 🌌feeling it🌌 so I basically bullied myself into writing this haha. This is my first posted Harry piece but there are a few other pieces I’ve been working on! (for months, literally. *sigh*)

~~

If you liked it, please feel free to reblog and leave a teeny tiny feedback! Writers really appreciate it!💜

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

ILLICITUS: CHAPTER 4

Prompt: Y/N is a respectful narcotics agent, she worked hard to have her work recognized in a prominently male work field. She‘s assigned to the most important case of her whole career, investigate and apprehend the biggest drug dealer of U.S.A, the only thing she didn’t count on, was for the bastard to be so damn charming.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Mob!Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, blackmail, cursing, conspiracy.

Tagging: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @nicolewoo , @bayley-no-friends , @lilred91 , @auawdo , @lustyromantic

Notes: Where is this going to?...To catch up with the previous chapters just hit my Masterlist! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) You can check out my other stories on my Masterlist and my newest story as a fixed post. Okay,now let’s get to the fun part, shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

I walk from Matt’s office to my desk in utter shock.

*What the hell is going on?* Is all I can think about. What seemed to be the opportunity of a life time (career wise) is becoming a true nightmare. One I couldn’t wait to wake up.

“Hey, kid! My office, NOW!” Jeffrey screamed

*Oh God, that’s all I needed right now*

“Yes, Jeffrey?” I reluctantly asked

He urgently closed and locked his office’s door

“Why did you locked the door?” I ask suspicious

He ignored me and motions for me to sit down. He was so nervous that it would be irrelevant to try to do anything but obey him.

“Happy?” I said bitterly

“Did you knew I was being tracked?” He whispered

“What do you mean?”

“Someone wiretapped my house!”

“Wait, wait. What? Are you serious Jeffrey?”

“Do I look like I’m joking to you, kid?” He angrily whispered

“Why would someone wiretap you?”

“How the fuck would I know? The only thing I know is that it came from the Bureau”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we are the only ones who use that type of technology. You can’t find that shit on the streets! Which makes me think why the fuck is somebody from this building minding my business?”He whispered screamed again

“Ok, first of all, you need to calm the fuck down! You’re little temper is not helping me to think at all. And you’re practically demonstrating to the person who did that, that you know about the wire. So take a deep breath, old man” I whispered and in an attempt to calm himself down, Jeffrey lit up a cigarette.

“Alright, where did you found the wiretap?”

“On the cable modem. We leave it at the leaving room”

“Ok, have you had any problems with your internet signal?”

“No. Why?”

“Sometimes in order to place a wire inside the house, they cause an external problem in the signal so you’ll call the cable company and someone from investigation will get inside the house to put the wire, pretending to be someone from the cable company” I explained and he gave me a puzzled look

“What?” I ask

“How do you-“

“They did that in New York to catch the Mob bosses. What kind of cop are you Jeffrey that doesn’t know about the biggest take down of the five biggest mob families of New York?” I tease

“I’m getting old, that’s my excuse” He laughs

“So if nobody came to fix anything, they must have came in normally then....has anyone from the Bureau came to your house recently?”

“Oh fuck. Everybody, kid”

“Everybody?”

“Yeah, two weeks ago, remember?”

“Shit, your birthday party” I dropped my head in defeat

“We have at least 30 suspects” He mumble

Something tells me whoever is doing this is trying to put me against Jeffrey so I decided to come clean with him

“Jeff, someone requested for a tracker on Roman Reigns”

“Please tell me you’re shitting me” He murmured “Who signed?”

“Apparently me”

“WHAT?” He screamed

“Shhhhh, someone will hear you!”

“What do you mean with ‘apparently you’?”

“My DEA ID number was in the requested by space”

“And how could someone get that?” He asked

“According to Matt, anyone who’s smart enough. He said is not that difficult, you just need to know where to look” I sighed

“Do you know when it was installed?”

“Yesterday, as I was there. Whoever did it wanted to make sure the timing matched perfectly....My biggest fear is for him to find out before I can remov-“ I was cut off by my phone ringing with an unfamiliar number.

“Y/L/N” Was my greeting

“Good morning, agent Y/L/N.”

*Oh fuck no!* I thought

“Good morning Mr. Reigns, how can I help you?”

“Well, I would like for you to join me for lunch, I have a subject I would like to discuss with you”

“I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I have a lot of work and-“

“Oh I’m certain your work can wait agent Y/L/N. Since you have some explaining to do”

“I beg your pardon?” I was already preparing myself for what I knew it would be inevitable

Roman laughs amused “Y/N. Did you really thought you could put a tracker on me and I wouldn’t find out? C’mon baby, I thought you were smarter than that!”

“Mr. Reigns, it’s not what you think-“

“I’m not gonna discuss this through a phone call. Be here at noon!” His voice colder than a bucket of ice

He hung up, before I could even protest it.

“What is it?” Jeffrey asked

“He found out and wants me to explain it” I faintly whispered

“Fucking great!” He grunts “Are you gonna go? Do you want me to go with you?”

“I have to go, I got no choice. And no, if I show up there with you is just gonna make things worst”

He nods “What are you going to do, kid?”

“Pray Jeff...pray like a fucking nun!”

......................................................................

“There she is! The little sneaky spy” Roman smirked at me “Please, sit” He motions to his office chair. The same one I sat the first time I was there.

“So, are you going to explain to me about this little thing?” He dropped the tracker on my lap

“Mr. Reigns, I know how this looks to you but I can guarantee, I didn’t requested this”

“You didn’t? Then how come is your internal identification number upon the request by line?”

*Of course he knows about that too*

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir”

“So what? You’re not trying to pull up the old trick that somebody is setting you up, right Y/N?”

“I know is hard to believe and if was in your position I would have the same disbelief as you right now, but unfortunately that is the pathetic truth”

“Do you expect me to believe that, agent Y/L/N?” He chuckled

I stare at him, responding “No, Mr. Reigns. I expect you to be reasonable, I would be naïve to think that I could do such an immature move like putting a tracker on you and expect you not to find out about it. As a matter of fact I would be straight up dumb if I thought that, that would ever work. So no I didn’t do it, somebody else did and that’s the reality, now whether you want to believe it or not it’s not my problem” I was taking a big risk talking to him like that, but it was the only thing I could do right now, bluff.

Roman places both of his hands on my thighs, leaning down until our faces are uncomfortably close.

“You play a dangerous game, Y/N. A very, very dangerous game” He licks my bottom lip “But I like that, it turns me on” Roman dragged his nose upon my neck, breathing in my scent

“You turn me on” He whispers in my ear “The things I can see myself doing to you are pure torture because that’s all what they are: imagination, and I want them to become reality. I want to see you spreading your legs for me, I want you in all fours on top of my bed, I want your pretty lips around my cock, I want my face in between your thighs, I want to fuck you in whatever pace I feel like it, I want you to take every inch of my cock, I wanna feel you stretching around me baby, moaning for me to go deeper and harder”

This man...The things he says, his voice so deep, his cologne filling up my nostrils and intoxicating me on his scent, on him.

“Roman” I whispered, but he continued

“You know there’s a chemistry between us, I know you can feel it too babygirl, so why hide it? Why suppress it, when we can put this stamina to good use, baby? I want it, you want it, it’s a simple math”

“That wouldn’t be very professional, I’m afraid” I mumbled

He leans back to look me in the eyes

“The tracker isn’t very professional as well is it?”

“I already told you it wasn’t me”

“And do you think a judge in court will care? There’s your personal DEA number in there, a number that technically only you have access to it and as far as I’m concerned that little tracker would be considered an invasion of privacy, I could sue not only you but the DEA for that. I mean, I signed an official document allowing you to search for anything you want in my professional life, not on my personal one and that tracker was installed on one of my private cars. Do you see my point, Y/N?”

“You want me to fuck you in order for you to keep your mouth shut” I angrily murmured

“Well, biologically speaking I would be the one to fuck you not the other way around” He smirked

“You’re so low, Roman” I spat

“Roman? No more formalities I see, I like that” He smiled

“Not happening” I shake my head vigorously

“What? Do you find me so repugnant that the thought of sleeping with me is that horrifying?” He asked amused

“It’s not that-“

“Oh, so you do find me attractive?” He asks pretending to be surprised

“Modesty doesn’t suits you, Mr. Reigns” I mocked

“So what is it?”

“If I do it, it’s gonna be like signing my guilty sentence. I would be screwing you to somehow make me innocent” I answered

Roman pulled me up from the chair, hugged my waist resting his hands mere inches from my ass.

“No baby, screwing me would be the equivalent to not getting fired, not having a billionaire lawsuit filled against you and not spending the rest of your life in prison” He smiled, now caressing my butt cheeks

“So babygirl, what’s gonna be?”

TO BE CONTINUED

Please let me know your thoughts on this series so far, feedbacks are always nice and appreciated 🥰❤️

[leahseclipse]

The Reichenbach Fall: Aftermath - Chapter One: Happy Death Anniversary, Detective.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader (With some Fem mentions)

Warnings: S2 FINALE SHERLOCK SPOILERS, Major character death; death topic, mourning, suicide mentions, depression mentions... (lemme know if I missed stuff.)

Summary: Two years after the death of Sherlock, what could be next?

Word Count: 4.0K

A/N: Hey there! I've finally found the motivation to post my Sherlock fic here. If you prefer AO3, click here :)

++

Sherlock used to call at midnight, he never cared whether you were trying to sleep, or if you were actually sleeping- he’d just call.

Sometimes to complain that technology was futile given the multitude of defaults it contained (his phone, for example)- or to talk about an article in a newspaper, thinking we’d be interested in it.

It’s been two years since the last call. No one could bring themselves to delete his number since; and I understand the reason for it. We all had some hope inside us, it was small given all the time that went by, but it was there.

We all wondered if he wasn’t alive. Movies aren’t real, so the whole fake-death scenario couldn’t have been real but we all thought “why not?”, it could happen. That was over a year ago, but I still believed it, I wasn’t quite planning on giving up; and when my phone rang a bit after midnight, I still had a glimpse of hope, each time.

That glimpse was cut short when I read the caller ID. It was John. I did like him, he just wasn’t who I expected to see, but I picked up the phone, just to not be rude. Voicemail is awful. “John? What’s going on?”

"I...I don’t really know, actually. Guess I...needed to feel less alone. I don’t even know."

“Hold on.” I glanced at my bedside as I put the phone on speaker before sitting on the bed. "...so, you couldn’t sleep?"

"Yeah, I’ve been trying for an hour, certainly because of..." He stopped, hesitating with his words.

Who else other than Sherlock would it be, honestly. The man’s always been in our thoughts, and now that he’s gone, we have to be reminded that he’s stuck in our minds. The only way to hear him is through memories, and probably some of us are afraid to forget what he sounds like through time. He wasn’t the guy to make documentaries on him, film himself- hell, he rejected every interview he was offered. The only thing we have is pictures, which isn’t enough.

"It’s him, isn't it?" I presumed.

"Yeah, Sherlock." He confirmed. “It’s the anniversary of his death, in two weeks.”

See, that was the kind of thing I didn’t want to recall as it made me think of what I didn’t want to accept, but at the same time, if I stopped thinking about that, might as well forget Sherlock completely.

"It kept me awake too." I admitted.”I can’t believe it.”

No one really does, to be honest. We all wish that it could be fake, that’s what we would need, even if it’d hurt to see him while we mourned all this time.

"It still feels a bit weird without him, even after basically two years."

“It didn’t seem right without him, at first."

"It took us a bit to get used to it, and still...I think I didn’t get used to it fully to this day."

"Neither am I, John. I don't think I ever will. Time will make the pain less...painful, but it’ll never erase him, he'll be in our thoughts from the moment we wake up."

"I wish it was all a dream. I hate to wake up and not see him. He annoyed me sometimes but...he was my friend."

"He was annoying but a good friend, yeah.” I said, “It’s just...not right. Nothing is right. I feel like everything has gone cold. I swear that I haven't seen a single ray of sunshine."

"It's probably time fooling around, I don't know." He said.

"It could but, when he was there, there would be some sunny-ish days. I haven't seen one since. He left, and it's like he took the sun with him, John. The whole world is falling apart.”

"I felt that too, for a moment. But, I don't really trust whatever I think about these days. I don't pay much attention to whatever I do."

"You should be careful though, I don't need you to die because you didn't pay attention out there. And before you say anything, there's no joke in there. I mean it, Watson.”

"I wasn't going to say that, trust me."

"You better. I need you there."

"Same goes for me. You've been of great help since…"

"Yeah. Since." I paused. "It sucks."

"It does.” He agreed. “Well I...I’m gonna go back to sleep, I don’t want to bother you all night.”

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry. It helped to talk. I could even stay a bit more, if you’re not planning on going back now.”

“Alright, then.”

++

It’s like the weather watched me plan the day, rain is on time. It couldn’t be more depressing on top of me dressed in black, but I just didn’t feel like coming in rainbow clothes would be appropriate, even if he wouldn’t care how I dressed anyway, even if he’s dead, yeah.

It feels weird to go, I always expected this was all a dream, or that it’d just...never happen. He’s the kind of person that outlives everyone, and Sherlock was this kind of person, he’s always been that person. He even used to say he’ll always be there, that he’d never leave, and now I guess we’ve both made mistakes, he’s not here anymore.

I never thought that would happen, I can’t tell how bad I prayed to whatever god to wake up, but that did nothing but make me a fool, nothing changed.

His apartment remained empty, as ours, he’d consider each house he could sleep at, his. I remember that he stayed at John’s for a week, before having to go back as John was “not entertaining” enough because he slept too much- As if we got to sleep all day.

He used to think everyone was like him, barely sleeping, barely tired, because I don’t think I’ve had the opportunity of seeing him elsewhere other than a room full of piles of papers.

He did sleep, but not at night, it was kind of like a cat, throughout the day, when possible. I always laughed about it along with John, and he never minded, he’d either pretend to not care, or join the conversation, and I already miss this kind of talks.

They’d either be incredibly short, or extremely long, you really had to clear your schedule for an hour or two when he’d talk. It’s not that it bothered me, it was more the others, those who didn’t know him. They’ve always found an amount of weirdness in him, which I had when I was like them, a stranger.

I never thought we’d get close, I didn’t even think anyone was close with him, he seemed quite the lonely guy, very private. Even after getting to know him, he remained quite private, as I thought, he wouldn’t share much, even with John and Mycroft; but, it didn’t matter that much, we still managed to have a great friendship, and I’ll always miss it.

Not any person will be like him, he was one of a kind. Not anyone could copy him without being seen as a fool. Sherlock Holmes was unique, he didn’t copy anyone to rise up, didn’t take anyone as a model, he did it all himself, he was a model himself.

He didn’t wish to be like anyone, it was the contrary, everyone wanted to be at his level, have the recognition he had, the fame, all the things that made him known, that made Sherlock be him. Even I won’t find a mentor like him, not any of them will be better, they’ll all seem ridiculous to me, even if they have more experience than him.

Nothing will be the same. This world won’t be the same without him being here, he’s gone now.

He took a big piece of whatever thing, when he left, and whatever thing he took was a big one, because it left us all empty. The kind of empty feeling that won’t quite go away, we’ve all been so used to having him around so much that it was a habit.

And now that he’s gone, nothing feels right, even living doesn’t feel right. It won’t ever feel right without him.

I almost feel guilty for being alive, I’m not as smart as him, I won’t contribute to anything. He was the smart one, we really lost an important person and I don’t think it wouldn’t have changed much if I had died instead, people would just be sad, I think.

It wouldn’t be that bad.

His death is bad to the point that the world he left behind can’t function as well as when he was alive. The whole puzzle is missing, hell, the whole world, if I go out of the metaphor.

...Sherlock would have been the corners of it, the foundations of it, what made it whole, what gave a start to get the rest of the puzzle.

He would have corrected me with hundreds of better metaphors if he could hear me, I really suck at this. He never did, though.

In fact, most of his talking contained metaphors, it was his signature, his day couldn’t feel right if he wouldn’t tell at least one.Now the whole ‘no day without a metaphor is a bad day’ is falling on us, and nothing or no one will make that feeling go away.

It’s strange, and funny that he managed to create all of those special feelings, memories, that we only felt with him. Sherlock’s had quite the special part in our lives. He changed our lives in such a spectacular way, and to be honest, life felt less depressing, even if our job is full of dead people and mysteries that make our sleep schedule non-existent, quite rare.

He made us forget all of that shit, whenever he could. That’s why I looked up to him, and thought about him so much. Whenever I had a problem, I’d call him first. Of course, I did call John, and Mycroft, but Sherlock was like my emergency contact, he’d always pick up, if possible.

Somehow, he always knew the answers to everything, and when he was clueless (which only happened twice, in five years)- he'd attempt to find something close to it, and even if his explanations didn’t solve anything, I didn’t care.

It probably made him sort of happy to explain it, share his big knowledge, so as long as he enjoyed himself, that was enough. I did hope he did enjoy himself, I never thought about asking and now that I think about it, I probably should have, it’s too late now.

If he can hear me, a sign would be great, probably. A good thing if he enjoyed talking, and a bad one if I annoyed him? It’d be nice to know even if he probably won’t answer, he must still be working; I know it.

He would be bored if he didn’t have his face in newspapers and whatever case. I always said Sherlock not to overwork, but he never listened. I hope he’s not doing it right now, that man was a total workaholic, right to his last breath, he never stopped.

I just hope he’s okay, wherever he is.

He deserves peace, enough things happened to him, he almost died a couple times, almost lost us if we hadn’t survived all of the wounds and things that happened, almost lost himself because of depression- all of these could have killed him.

He would have stayed alive, but he would have died inside, I just know it even if he didn’t show it much. But he did feel, he did have feelings.

I know he liked us a lot, even though he didn’t show it much; he did enjoy living even with all of the problems he had so, let’s hope he’s not in pain, stressing, suffering, whatever feeling that makes him feel bad.

You can take it easy now, we’re taking care of what you couldn’t finish for you, we’re taking care of the legacy you couldn’t pursue for you, we’ve got your back, Holmes. John, Mycroft, myself, and whatever person you know will tell you everything that happens so you don’t miss anything. You’ll be able to debate about the events, you won’t miss a single thing of what’s happening.

Even if I have my pride, and don’t want to admit I’m depressed about you being dead, I’ll tell you everything, I know you’d be here to tell me how to deal with the death of a person, the whole five stages of grief. You said them to me so much that I always have them in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

I’d say that I’m at the last phase, but a lot of anger comes in it. I still wish it had been me, sometimes. It’s not fair it happened to Sherlock. I just hope he’s not too mad. If it had been someone else, he’d probably try to talk some sense into me, get me to tell more logical things.

If ghosts were real, I know he’d tell me to stop putting the blame on myself, even if I don’t even know why I blame myself, we don’t even know what caused him to jump from a damn building. And even if someone explains it, we won’t know if it’s real no matter how much they’ll prove it’s the truth.

The only person that can tell us that is gone.

So, unless we don’t find...a diary, or a note, proving it all, we won’t know.

The last thing we’ve heard from him was an apology, the ‘note’ he left behind was the call John received, which means the presumed note I mentioned doesn’t exist, only the call does.

After leaving his note, he fell from the roof and he died on impact, his pulse was long gone when he reached the floor, and it didn’t come back. I didn’t believe all of it happened, even when I heard John telling it, none of it seemed true...until I saw the death certificate.

The whole world stopped, and it still is frozen now. I wish the grave I’m standing in front of wasn’t real, I wish that my eyes were betraying me.

If only.

“Turns out you lied, Sherlock. You left.”

I hate you for what you did.

“You could have explained all of this a bit more. Even if I would have preferred not to, I would have prevented you from dying if you gave me a note...before.”

I wish I had known, I should have known. He didn’t have to die, he wasn’t supposed to die, certainly not like that.

Not now, that wasn’t his time. He was supposed to die of old age because of natural reasons, after all of us. Outlive us all.

Damn Sherlock Holmes wasn’t supposed to die at 35 years old. It's too young, too soon, Too much to bear.

“What am I supposed to do now, I mean- what are we all supposed to do? None of us can replace you, we’ll take twice the amount of time you barely took to resolve cases on our own, you left us in a really bad situation, you know that? It’s not going to be the same if you’re not here with us.”

And I miss you like a little kid.

“You could have made us take classes to become a close version of you, at least. I’m saying ‘close’ because no one will ever be like you. Not even that detective that had 30 years of experience, he wasn’t even close, really. I’d say he looked like a newbie, next to you.”

I even started to lose the habit of calling him when he’s not directly on the field and I hate this. I’ve only known him for a couple of years, and yet, he’s going to be ironed in my mind for a lifetime.

That man, I swear.

He didn’t think that sticking so close to us, getting to know us, sharing things about him would affect us so badly now that he’s gone. Real gone.

It hurts to say that, I wish I could just pretend he wasn’t gone, but that’s not really...healthy? It’s not really healthy in the way that if I pretend he’s still there- while he’s six feet under ground would drive me crazy, it’d completely destroy the whole ‘acceptance phase’ I’ve been working on. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do to bring him back.

That’s what my brain has to acknowledge, pretending he’s alive wouldn’t do any good.

Sometimes life gets to an end, and we have to accept that. I know that Sherlock, his brother and even John wouldn’t want to see me like this- ignoring reality, building a fake world to protect me from the real one.

Hurting sucks. Getting reminded that I won’t be seeing him anymore sucks, but everything sucks in life, and that’s what happens when you live. You can’t have a perfect happy life with all the shitty problems, that doesn’t exist.

But even if this sucks, I also get to remember all of the great things Sherlock has accomplished, the hundreds of memories we’ve made all together, whatever makes me happy- but there’s still a lot of hurt to go through before being able to think about them without crying because I miss them.

I wish that could be happening right now, I must have filled an entire bottle of water with all my tears. It’s even worse when that happens at 2am after you wake up from a dream about them.

Speaking of dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever had so many dreams with him compared to when he was alive. It’s as if he's haunting me, and even if I like him, I’d wish he wouldn’t do that so often, a little peace and quiet would be nice, even if I don’t want that to stop.

I’m afraid I’ll forget Sherlock if I stop thinking about him, block the memories to prevent me from the hurt that comes with it. I don’t want that to happen, he doesn’t deserve to have his legacy ignored because of my stupid feelings that hurt, he deserves to have his legacy remembered, discussed about, shared, not to have it trapped in newspapers, or in a corner of my head.

I like to imagine him being proud when I do that, even if I wouldn’t have known he was. He wasn’t the expressive kind, but he liked to show he was proud of you through a facial expression, a word, whatever could be ‘decrypted’. He wasn’t as cold as people saw him, he was extremely kind, even if he was broken in millions of pieces inside.

But yet, he overcame everything and came back even stronger. Every single time. He was amazing in so many ways, and that’s why I wish I could be like him.

So much.

I sighed, adjusting the grip I had on my umbrella, as I squatted down in front of his grave. “Did you know we went through your closet yesterday? There’s really not a lot, your clothes are so...similar. We can easily buy the same to be ‘like you’. But I don’t want to touch them, they’re kind of like precious pieces you can find in a museum.”

I hope he doesn’t think I’m crazy because of that.

“And...yeah, we went through your place because we can’t bring ourselves to sell it, I don’t want someone else to live in there and ruin it with their own belongings. But at the same time, living in it would be weird, I don’t know. I can’t find an explanation, just that it’s weird, living in the apartment of a dead person. Kinda creepy.” I explained, looking up from my umbrella as I realized the rain had gone down, letting a few rays of a ‘somehow’ sun. “Look, the sun listened to me. It’s coming up so I can give my emotional speech full of hope.” I sighed. “I don’t...I don’t even know what to say anymore. Kind of ironic as I always have something to say.”

I actually kind of know, but I don’t want to say it.

He’s gone. No miracle will bring him back, but I’ve kept hearing John saying it, I heard him last time we came; and even though I can’t bring myself to say that, I want to so badly. That’s all I’ve been wanting to happen since you died, I don’t want anything else and I don’t care about love anymore even if you always wanted me to be happy.

You’re what made me happy, you were the definition of love. Maybe what I’ve been feeling was that but I never brought myself to admit it.

I have loved you since the first day, but you always said that whoever fell in love with you should find better as you considered yourself a forever loner, unable to feel and give love, but I know you were capable of it, if you had tried, I believed you could have done it.

“Look at me, in front of your grave, exposing the feelings I’ll never have the answer to, I don’t even know if you liked me back. You really took all your secrets to your grave, huh? What a selfish prick, you could’ve shared that, at least.” I complained.

I don’t think I’ve ever known someone that hid so much stuff, he really was a whole mystery to himself, that man.

We can’t even solve what caused you to commit suicide, we’ll probably never solve it. You were the only one that knew why, and yet he can’t just pull a miracle and live again for a few minutes as a zombie to explain. That would be of great help, even if I’d prefer he’d live again.

That’d be an awesome miracle, even better than what happens at Christmas.

“Can you do that for me, though?”

Just that, I won’t ask for anything else.

“Just one more miracle, Sherlock, for us.” I said, putting my hand on the polished surface. “...don't be dead.”

It’s too easy, you can’t be dead, Nothing can kill you. I know John, and a shit ton of people saw you fall, but...let me believe all of that isn’t true.

Just a fake accident, Do that for us. Please. We need you more than you can ever imagine, you were so important to us, you were family.

A reason to fight for, to live for.

“Don’t be, please.” I pleaded, as I got up from the ground. “I uh...I’ll be back whenever I can, okay? Work’s been crazy since you’re gone, it’s incredible. I don’t know if it’s because we don’t have your help, or because it’s always been like that.”

Probably a mix of the two, I don’t really know, it’s been complicated to think properly these days. Sherlock would be the one to help with that, usually.

“I’ll have to ask someone else, I guess.”

I still haven’t found this ‘someone else’, by the way, It’s been two years, I know. But I still haven’t found someone that can help me the way he used to.

He still remains unique after all this time.

“I’ll be on my way, then. You’re awfully quiet today, guess you’re not in the mood, so I’ll go.”

I wish I still didn’t have to say goodbye, but this is the only thing I can say when I leave.

The weather had even gotten better, as if it only rained to have a full dramatic effect, there was only wind, which didn’t seem to announce a storm, for now. The sound of the leaves being crushed by my feet as I walked was to be heard, as no other sounds were around, it was very quiet today.

The silence did feel weird, I never liked it.

Not when it caused me to think of…

“Got time to spare for me?”

...him.

“Sherlock.”

++

|Chapter Two|

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.4

Learning to Breathe

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2600

Summary: You must get on the road so things finally start moving. One little thing tho - you really need some clothes of your own. ...yay?

Warnings: swearing, amnesia, Dean being Dean being themselves

The briefest guide to SPN characters of Team Free Will (at the end of the post)

Story masterlist

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You grew tired of staring at the screen after a while. There was so much information to look up, but you didn’t even know what you should be looking for. You had to mentally confirm Dean’s earlier words – brains were weird, like really freaking weird. You couldn’t remember your favourite drink or food or the reality of soulmates. On the other hand, you knew how to operate a tablet and what the Internet was. The names Natasha and Ryan popped up in your mind with no obvious reason, Rogers downright striking something in you.  

You wondered if any of those had to do something with your soulmate; your mind always ended up with him (and you were ninety percent sure they were a ‘he’), still fascinating you.

You shut the tablet down and eyed the couch. You knew you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep, your brain was too frantic for that, not to mention you had been sleeping (read dead, apparently), so you had your fill, but you didn’t have too many options. Your feet itched to take a walk, but you resisted – Sam had been right, you couldn’t just walk, less so in the middle of a night. The alarm on a nightstand read 4 a.m. You had no clue when Sam and Dean were usually getting up.

You didn’t know the men and their behaviour was puzzling you. They seemed to have never met you before, yet they were inclined to help you – with no outlook for a reward. God only knew why they were doing what they were and maybe quite literally the God. Castiel claimed to an angel after all. They had spoken of monsters. Who the hell were these guys?

It was hard to doubt their words – with little knowledge and unreliable sources on the internet, there was neither confirming nor denying their words. Then again, seeing Castiel just vanish into a thin air was pretty convincing.

You felt a headache starting to build up and decided to lie down on the couch at least, not even daring to hope for getting a shut-eye.

You were out in no time.

Gentle voice of a man you couldn’t remember guided you into the dreamland while whispering senseless words; there was one though that struck something deep inside you, making you jolt awake with a gasp and a faint pleasant taste on your lips.

“Doll…” the soft sigh followed you to full consciousness, echoing in your ears, tingling your spine.

“Morning, Natasha,” a different male voice greeted you and you yelped, spinning its direction, memories of yesterday events flooding your brain.

The tall long-haired man standing in the bathroom door was Sam and the man sitting on the bed, looking like he just woke up, short hair sticking in every direction and expression utterly confused, was Dean.

“S-sam,” you stuttered, your mind elsewhere.

Doll. Doll.

It definitely sounded like an endearment. A pet-name. The man’s voice was laced with emotions, gentle and warm, powerful and tender. You knew him. You must have known him, his name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to roll off and yet no sound came out when your lips parted. You blinked several times, chasing your dream, unable to add neither a name nor a face to the voice.

Your chest tightened, making it hard for you to breathe in, an inexplicable fear squeezing your lungs, sudden tears gathering in your eyes.

“Natasha?” Sam’s voice sounded from distance, strangely muffled. “Natasha? What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes automatically snapped up when a gentle hand appeared on your shoulder; Sam’s face was blurry, making you blink the salt droplets away.

Then, as if someone snapped their fingers, the suffocating feeling vanished and you welcomed the change with a fierce inhale.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you panted. “I’m fine. I’m okay. Sorry to scare you first thing in the morning,” you tried to smile at him, probably failing.

He gave your shoulder a hesitant squeeze, his green-brown eyes mirroring concern. He exchanged a glance with Dean, who seemed way more awake than a minute ago.

“You good, kid?” he threw at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

Kid? Fire Princess? Sweetcheeks? What would come next? The ‘doll’ one? You hoped not.

Funnily enough, the addressing brought you back to reality better than anything else, your mind set straight; well, as much as it could be when you still didn’t know your own name.

Dean behaviour towards you was different than Sam’s and you couldn’t tell whether you liked better or not – it was just… different. And it ignited a spark inside you.

“I’m good, dad,” you hummed back, raising one corner of your lips, this time succeeding.

“Looks like she’s alright,” Dean smirked at Sam and the taller man rolled his eyes.

“It was just… a strange dream. It was probably nothing,” you explained, which caused Sam to finally release you. You found yourself missing the soothing weight of his hand and wondered what it said about you.

“Okay. We should get something to eat and get on the road. Dean?”

“Food. Coffee. Then think,” the man explained, making you chuckle. You stomach growled in agreement, blood rushing to your cheeks at that.

“Sounds good.”

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Running the facial recognition brought no results, much to Sam and Dean’s annoyance. It was ‘all quiet at Castiel’s front’, which was a statement you didn’t quite understand, but you assumed the expression was a private joke.

In other words, you had no clue who you were besides your soulmarks, the made-up name and a pleasant male voice following you from your dreams – not that you shared that with either of the brothers.

The name on the other hand….

“Uhm…” you started intelligently, as Dean and Sam were finishing their coffee (and yours, because you found out that coffee was not quite your thing), catching their attention. “I looked up some names common in the US and… uhm, Rogers-“

“Okay. That’s cool. Common enough, not too obvious like Smith. Good choice, Nat.” Dean glanced at you briefly. “You don’t mind being called Nat, right? ‘Cause I will call you that, it’s shorter.”

You blinked, confused. Huh? What did Dean mean? “Good choice…?”

“Well, yeah. We need to make you an ID. We should be heading to the bunker…” Dean mumbled absently, staring into the cup as if he wished there was more of that disgusting liquid.

“ID? Like… a fake one? You can do that?!”

They could make a fake ID? Seriously, who were they? Was Dean and Sam even their real names? You tried not to panic, because they had been nothing but kind to you, seemingly genuine and honest, but… but.

“You need to have one. We could just drop you at a police station and call it a day, but we think it’s better if you stay with us. For that, you need an ID,” Sam hurried to explain and you honestly didn’t know how to react.

You didn’t like the idea of lying about your identity to anyone, then again, you couldn’t remember your actual identity and apparently had been brought back from the death, so you were out of options so to speak.

“Okay,” you sighed, ignoring the unpleasant knot in your stomach. “You talked about… a bunker?”

Which didn’t sound ominous at all. Or creepy. Nope.

What did they do for living again?

“Yeah. It’s our base of operations.”

“For?” you urged Sam, your shoulders tense. Here it came; the fearsome reveal of the truth. Sam sighed and eyed you warily, as if agreeing with your unspoken thoughts.

“This is gonna sound crazy… but the unhuman things we talked about? We hunt them. We are finding strange crimes all over the country and go there to investigate them, finding the ‘cause’, which usually is some kind of a… monster….”

“And you kill the monster,” you finished breathlessly, feeling your heart jump to your throat.

Wow. Wow. You had no idea what to say to that announcement. There was no doubt Sam wasn’t lying. Why would he even make up such thing? They were killing monsters… things that were hurting people. It was unimaginable, incredible and impossible to wrap your head around, but strangely, it kinda…. made sense.

It only meant one thing.

“So… you’re heroes,” you exclaimed breathlessly, astounded.

The brothers stared at you blankly, frozen at your words.

What? What did you say wrong? They couldn’t be offended at that, right?

Dean chuckled and patted your shoulder. “Thanks, kid. I wish more people saw it this way…”

“Oh,” you paused, your mind racing. Right. They were able to make fake IDs. They probably didn’t have the jurisdiction to do what they did. And they were probably impersonating police officers of something like that to ‘investigate’, which meant they were technically outlaws. The revelation should give you creeps… but somehow, it didn’t. Knowing the truth actually calmed your nerves.  It probably had everything to do with the fact that knowing anything at all was better that knowing nothing – which seemed to be the standard for you now. “Right. Your lives must be peachy. Thanks for having me nevertheless.”

Now you most definitely broke them, didn’t you? They looked like you broke them. Dean’s expression was wary as he stared at you blankly and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“That’s it?” he asked, his green eyes looking like seeing the bottom of your soul. Ha! Was that a thing? Could he see your soulmate there?

Never mind…

“Uhm… yeah?”

Dean turned to Sam who was watching you with equally weirded out expression on his face and met Dean’s gaze as the shorter brother spoke up again.

“I love her.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that, but you recognized he wasn’t exactly confessing his undying love to you. Yet, you couldn’t deny that both brothers seemed happy about your reaction. It was strange, but all of what they were apparently doing, the way they lived… it didn’t feel that unreal.

For all you didn’t remember about your life and the world in general, you couldn’t help a distant feeling that there was a certain level of insane you should be used to.

Momentarily, you were grateful for that, because otherwise accepting all of this madness might actually cause you to fold like a house of cards. Instead, you just shrugged when Sam looked at you, relieved.

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Breakfast absolutely was the most important meal of the day for Sam and Dean. You spent almost an hour with it, but you couldn’t complain – they fed you, they clothed you (though the way they did was beginning to be a problem, people stared and you didn’t really feel comfortable wearing that), they were patient with you not knowing shit… . You didn’t want to be too much of a burden to them; there wasn’t much you could pay them back with. At least not yet.

You were in the town of Clayton in Ohio. You somehow understood that it was in the United States, you knew there was such thing, but you were glad to have it shown in a map – not that it told you much. The names of towns and cities didn’t remind you of anything. Nothing seemed familiar.

It sucked.

Apparently, the famous bunker Dean had mentioned was in Lebanon, Kansas, which was about a 13-hour drive. You were horrified, but once again kept your mouth shut, knowing very well that you had no right to say a word besides ‘thanks’.

You obediently climbed on a backseat of a fancy black car, not forgetting to compliment it instinctively. Dean flashed you a pleased grin, patting his ‘Baby’ on the roof before taking the wheel.

Funnily enough, he pulled over after what could be five minutes, earning himself your puzzled gaze. Huh? Sam seemed equally confused until he looked outside, nodding and catching your eye in the rear-view mirror.

“So, Natasha… ready to do some shopping?”

You weren’t; apparently, Dean wasn’t either, because he excused himself, taking a beeline with the car to get gas and left you alone with slightly uncomfortable Sam.

“I… I promise that when you manage to… help me get on my feet anyhow, I’ll pay you back,” you said quietly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip.

Sam quickly fixed his expression, his face inviting once more. It made you feel worse. He was suffering just like his finances… wait, how did they get finances? People didn’t pay them for what they were doing, were they?

“Don’t worry about that. I’m just wondering if I’m the right person to help you with shopping.”

You chuckled at that, imagining Sam carrying tens of shopping bags.

“I won’t need much, Sam. In fact, I wouldn’t need anything really-“

“Absolutely not,” he shook his head, his long hair swaying around his head. It was cute. “You need your own clothes. Dean’s too big and… his wardrobe is not exactly for women.”

“Well, I probably should merge with the crowd, right? And you’re the only crowd I know, so…” You looked around the shop, a slow smile spreading on your face when you found what you were looking for. You held up a female plaid shirt, clearly surprising Sam if his confused expression was anything to go by. “What do you think?”

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Shopping wasn’t terrible; you only picked necessities, blushing like a tomato (did you like tomatoes?) when you headed to certain department Sam didn’t dare to follow you to. You didn’t bother with cosmetics – you could use theirs and as far as you were concerned, you didn’t need the particular set of supplies for women just yet.

It took you only half an hour, Dean already waiting in front of the shop in his Chevrolet, lightly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in a catchy tune. He grinned a boyish smile when he saw you, not at all bothered by your presence and continued enjoying the music from the radio. He was downright adorable.

Two men built like rocks who hunted monsters for living and you both found them cute within an hour. They were incredible goofballs. You loved it.

“Look at you, all in plaid and yet looking like a woman,” he hummed and your cheeks coloured in intense red.

“Dean, shut up,” Sam scolded him, eyebrows furrowing as he circled the car and took the shotgun seat.

“What?” Dean complained, turning his palms up. “That was a compliment.”

“It was accepted,” you assured him and smiled at both him and Sam, which caused the driver gesture towards you as if he was saying ‘see?’ to Sam – he only rolled his eyes in response.

“You don’t mind music, do you?”

“Not at all,” you replied to Dean, not even considering a different answer. Even if had been annoyed at it, you sure as hell wouldn’t say.

“I might actually love you, Nat,” Dean threw over his shoulder, staring the engine. “Oh and we’re not heading to the bunker. I found us a case-“

A case? As in… a monster case?!

“We already have a case!”

“It’s witches, Sammy. I couldn’t ignore that.”

You caught Sam’s expression in the rear-view mirror, his nose scrunched in disgust, which spiked your interest despite the worries twisting your gut.

“Oh God, I hate those.”

“As do I, Sammy, as do I,” Dean agreed grimly. “It’s in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Oh and Garth agreed to make Nat an ID and deliver it to Bedford, which is on our way.”

Your lips parted in silent shock. What? That fast? Who was Garth? Also… just how much Dean managed to do while Sam was playing your walking wallet?

“Good. Thanks for taking care of that.”

“Thanks,” you echoed Sam’s words, too taken aback to speak out loud. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Sure thing, Nat. Sure thing. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

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Part 5

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Heya, lovlies!

I’m not posting another chapter for at least a week, because life, but I hope tha wait will be worth it. We’re gonna take a step back and see how Steve has been doing and how spy!Natasha is onto something. Thank you for reading!

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Tags: @cxptain​​​ @smilexcaptainx​​​ , @murdermornings​​​ @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​​​ @eliza5616​​​ @rayofdawnworld @victor-criss-bish​​​ @skychild29​​​  @elysianecho​​​ @simmisblog​​​ @scentedsongrebel​​​ @orions-nebula​​​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​​​ @songofcosplay​​​, @ilovesupersoldiers​​​ @wxstedhexrt​​​ @silver-winter-wolf​​​ @guardian-tn @janieavalos  @vxidnik​​​, @patzammit​​​ , @annathesillyfriend​​​ @maravderofthephoenix​​​

Anyone wants in or out, shoot me a message or an ask :)) It’s (usually) no problem ;)

[taelme]

Spiderman!Eric

genre: spiderman!au, friends-to-lovers!au (fluff) 

pairing/s: Eric / Fem reader (ft Stray Kids Felix) 

word count: 5k+

tw: mild violence like fighting yall know the drill hes spiderman 

Felix  12:33am - call me - 12:33am - srsly call me now i gotta show u smth -

You picked up the (incessantly) ringing device, wondering who it was yet already knowing who it was going to be.

Seeing Felix's caller id show up on your phone screen, you sighed, swiping the call to answer it anyway, putting it at a rather ugly angle on your pillow since it was Felix, after all.

"Why are you video calling, did you press the wrong button again?" you murmured, lazily leaning on your pillow as you talked. Felix looked as if he was in some sort of living room, and that framed geodude puzzle hanging on the wall behind him was beginning to look just too familiar.

Almost as if hearing your thought process, the blonde haired boy turned his head, shouting a loud, "Eric! Come here, dude!" Making you shoot up quickly, a hand flying to your head from the throb you got after getting up too fast.

Angling your phone so you looked a little more presentable, your breath hitched when you saw Eric come into your view, with a small towel draped over his head.

Eric raised his eyebrows at Felix in confusion before spotting you on the phone, his mouth dropping open before closing quickly, smiling shyly at you with a wave. 

"Hi," his voice came out soft, "sorry to disturb you so late in the night, you seem like you were about to sleep."

Even though the three of you knew it was the truth, you replied dismissively anyway, "Oh, no it's fine, really. I wasn't asleep yet anyway." You didn't miss the knowing look Felix gave you, making you shrug your shoulders while Eric got comfortable in his seat next to Felix. His sharp eyes rounding when he looked back at the screen, holding the edges of the towel draped over his head with a certain hint of excitement in his expression.

"Are you ready for this? probably not but we're gonna show you anyway, okay, Eric, one, two....three!" Felix practically tore the towel off of Eric's head, revealing a bright blue head of hair, making your eyes widen, Felix giving the phone to Eric when the blue haired boy held his hand out expectantly after seeing your reaction.

"That's.....bright."

"Do you...." Eric's gaze travelled elsewhere (anywhere but at you, really) as his fingers smoothed down the parts of his hair that got ruffled in the process of Felix's dramatic reveal. "Do you uh...you know, like it?" he asked, flicking and pulling at his hair in an attempt to make it more presentable, thought you felt it was fine.

"I do! yeah! i mean, it looks great!" you were quick to reassure him, enjoying the smile that appeared on his face, relieved almost.

"What made you wanna do that suddenly?" Eric was about to reply when Felix cut in quickly, his face appearing on the screen and covering anything else visible.

"For the fun of it, you know?" Felix shrugged, "Me and my friends used to do stuff like this all the time in Australia," you rolled your eyes.

"So you just convinced Eric to bleach and dye his hair for fun?"

Eric's voice sounded behind Felix, "I thought maybe it was time to try something different for a change, or something," Felix nodded vigorously, smiling widely.

"That's cool," you heard a commotion on the other side of the phone, though you kept talking anyway, figuring it was a normal occurrence for them, "it really looks great, by the way-"

"Okay that's enough, Y/N. Time to go to sleep, bye!" Felix hung up the call before you could say goodbye. Sighing, you set your phone back down on the table, staring at the ceiling for a while trying to figure out why you were so affected by Eric just having different hair when your phone rang with a notification alarm.

Picking it up, you saw Eric had sent you a photo, opening it to see a picture that he'd taken of himself with a snorlax plushie, caption being 'we kind of look the same now, right?'

You laughed, replying him quickly to say he looked absolutely the same, though not surprised at the 'goodnight' text you'd received shortly after.

Eric was nice to you, and everyone else, you supposed. 

===

"Hey dude, that's not very nice," Eric called in a voice that sounded genuinely upset at what was unfolding in the alley beneath him. Despite his lack of combat training (unless you counted fake ‘mma’ matches with Felix as training), as well as the fact that the man was probably twice Eric's size, Eric knew that that couldn't matter right now because whoever that could try to mug an old lady, was a dick. (and should be stopped, of course)

Shooting a web to the opposite apartment building, Eric swung down, landing smoothly in front of the mugger and using his webs to trap him against the wall, leaving him about half a minute to get this old lady whatever she needed.

If Eric was expecting any thanks, he should have thought again because this old lady was practically hysterical that some red and blue spider looking thing had just rescued her from being mugged.

"Ma'am please calm down, it’s okay,” Eric pleaded in his 'Spiderman' voice, only successfully doing so when he pushed up his mask enough to reveal his mouth.

"See? i'm a human! i'm a human boy! Nothing to worry about Ma'am,” Eric waved his hands as reassuringly as he could, calling the police to inform them of the mugger before shooting a few more webs on him as a precaution before bringing the old lady out into the town area. “Please be safe....and try not to walk through alleys next time!”

Swinging himself back onto the roof where he'd tossed his backpack previously, Eric checked the time on his phone, 7:20am, almost time for school. If he left now, he could probably still make it back by 7:30. Thank God he didn't listen to Felix when he tried to convince him not to bring his school uniform to his trips.

Eric was practically sprinting into the school, panting and clothes wrinkled from being wadded up in his backpack for so long, trying his best to slip into the class unnoticed to his desk was next to yours.

Twirling your pen as you tried to remain inconspicuous so the teacher wouldn't notice that Eric had jut arrived, he'd made that a little harder when he'd kneed the table in his hurry to sit down, thankfully going unnoticed by the teacher.

"You're early," you smirked, hearing him grunt in reply, chest still heaving from his trip here. (Eric would have figured that being Spiderman meant he wouldn't get winded from stairs so easily).

Tugging the sleeves of his shirt down, hooking a finger at his collar to pull it away from his neck and fanning himself with his other hand, the blue haired boy shrugged with a breathy laugh, "Sure am.” He told you, sticking his tongue out at you before turning his attention back to the teacher.

You scribbled down notes lazily, trying not to get distracted by the way Eric looked so different with this new hair, even if half of it was hidden under a baseball cap. Getting bored after a while, you shifted your attention to the screen, feeling yourself slowly start to let your vision blur, almost giving into sleep when you felt someone nudge your elbow, turning to see Eric was trying to pass you a small yellow post-it note.

Taking the note and pasting it onto your notebook, it read: -which one are you gonna sign up for?-

Turning your head to face Eric, you nudged him, seeing him jump slightly in his seat before a small huff of laughter left his lips. “Hmm?” his eyebrows raised, pen halting its movements against his paper.

“Sign up for what?”

There was a moment of silence where Eric looked as though you’d just told him his dog died before he leaned his head forward abruptly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and mouth gaping slightly, “Sign up for what?” he asked you.

Rolling your eyes yet not being able to help the smile from your face, you shoved the - now crumpled - note into his hand. “This! Weren’t you the one that asked me?” you whisper-shouted, a hand moving to grip at your hair in mock frustration.

Eric’s expression softened, mouth forming an ‘o’ shape in realization, “Oh, right. Yeah, which internship position are you gonna sign up for?” he pointed to the board at the front of the class, where the teacher had written down various internship positions at different companies.

“What’s this for?” you glanced at Eric’s notebook to see if he’d written anything useful about it, seeing his small neat handwriting of

‘different day, different company take different day -’

Eric was quick to shield his notebook from you, choosing to distract you by pointing his pen to the direction of the board while he tried to make himself look less flustered at the fact that you could have just seen how he’d written that he wanted to take a different attachment day from you so it would be easier to have lunch with you.

“You see, we’re supposed to choose one,” he explained, closing his notebook and shoving it into his bag while you were looking at the board. “I think i’m gonna choose Monday’s,” he started slowly, “You know, since i like that, and you don’t...”

Your gaze went to the Monday slot on the board, seeing that it was something to do with sports and you made a face of disgust, shaking your head.

“You’re right, i don’t like that. I was thinking of maybe Wednesday?” you pointed at the area on the board to direct his attention there, seeing him nod, a soft smile threatening to appear.

“Great then, we’ll still have lunch breaks to spend together!”

“You think Felix will join us?” you bypassed his implication, making him press his lips together in a tight line.

“Eh, up to him, he’s welcome to whenever he wants,” Eric shrugged, not averse to the idea but not completely for it either. Felix was his best friend but...sometimes he was a little too obvious with the whole spider thing.

"Nice," you smiled to yourself, scribbling down quickly onto your notebook about the details of your internship, the thought of work reminding you of Eric's part-time job.

"Right, are you working today?"

Eric had almost forgotten that he had told you about his 'part-time job', if you counted roaming around the streets of your neighbourhood looking for crime to stop dressed in a body suit as a part-time job.

"I work everyday, the city never sleeps Y/N," he sighed dramatically, shaking his head at his textbook wistfully.

"What are you even talking about you work at a pet shop, i'm pretty sure that part of the city does sleep." Eric waved you off dismissively, not being able to help the tiny giggle that slipped from his mouth, his hands coming up to his hair in embarrassment but only coming in contact with the material of his cap, forgetting he was even wearing it.

"Also, are you forgetting something?"

Eric furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his pen on his notebook, trying to figure out what exactly it was he was forgetting. Was it your birthday? no, it can't be, Eric remembered there was still months to go before that. Maybe it's movie night again? Eric frowned, no, we had that yesterday.

"I give up," the blue-haired boy finally slumped his shoulders, dropping his pen onto the table and holding his hands out to you in a begging gesture. "What was it that i forgot this time?" he pouted, trying his best to ease his way out of trouble if you were angry at him.

Pushing the flyaway strands of your hair away from your face haphazardly as you turned to him, you mustered a look of disgust, "You were supposed to help me write my article about Spiderman for the newspaper club!" you frowned, hands finding their way to your hips. A look of realization flashed over Eric's features, making you sigh.

"I knew you'd forget, you're always busy with baseball or your job or playing games with Felix, it's a wonder you even agreed to help me with that paper in the first place." you sighed.

"Look, i'm really sorry it just slipped my mind...let me make it up to you?" he pleaded, earning a dirty look from you.

"Lunch is on you," you decided.

Eric's expression relaxed visibly, glad that that was what you'd decided on as a compensation, nodding his head at you with a smile, "Deal."

===

"And you're sure you don't need me to walk you back?" Felix asked, though you knew both him and his friend Changbin were hoping you would say no so they could head over to the computer cafe to play games.

You shot them a look, eyes narrowing at them as you gripped your laptop tighter in your arm, shooting Felix a tight-lipped smile.

"It's fine, if anything i'll just call Eric," Felix opened and closed his mouth quickly as if stopping himself from saying something, deciding on nodding firmly at you, waving goodbye to let you leave. Eric hadn't told you where the pet-shop was but you figured it didn't matter anyway since you never visited him there, but little did you know tonight you wouldn't have to.

"Hey! Stop!" You heard the clanging of bins and the heavy thudding of running footsteps, looking around to find the source of the sound when you saw someone running past you, knocking into you slightly but the impact causing them to lose their balance and stumble onto the floor. You figured he wasn't that innocent with the cds that had spilled out from his jacket when he fell. So you did what you figured anyone would've done in this situation, you stepped on his chest.

You heard a gust of wind before a light thud in front of where you and the man were, your breath getting caught in your throat when you realized that Spiderman was in front of you.

"I told you not to run, you can get all these cds at a sale!" the masked boy had waved his hands exasperatedly, squatting down and looking up at you when he'd seen that the man - or boy, he looked like he couldn't be much older than you -was still being held down by your leg. In your shock you had pressed your leg harder onto the boy, making him let out a pained groan which fell on your deaf ears.

"Uh..." Spiderman cleared his throat, and your eyes widened expectantly, not realizing your foot was still on the boy's chest until Spiderman gestured a covered finger towards it.

"Oh! sorry, i just you know, thought it would help keep him down.." you blurted, removing your leg quickly and taking a step back from the boy. Spiderman cleared his throat, mustering a deeper, more authoritative voice, or his 'Spiderman voice' as Felix liked to call it.

"Thanks for helping me stop this guy, i really owe you one." Spiderman told you, making you flush, shaking your head at him out of courtesy.

"No problem....Spiderman?" Said boy let out a small giggle, sounding oddly familiar to you but you were too busy observing him clear away the cds and let the boy go to say anything.

"Don't do it again or i'm telling your mom!" you frowned in confusion as you watched the boy scramble off the floor and run off.

"His mom?"

"His mom's the owner of the bakery across the street from the cd shop, she'd kill him if she knew he was doing this." Spiderman stood up, dusting the knees of his suit before turning to you, and you were practically itching to remove his mask.

"So.....kind citizen, how may i repay you?" he said, sounding an awful lot like he was in a period drama, making you laugh, though you couldn't say you had no idea what you wanted him to do either.

He spent a solid minute shifting his weight from leg to leg while waiting for your answer. "What's your name?"

"E-" Spiderman stopped himself, lengthening the vowel so he sounded like he meant to scold you instead. "Foul play, pretty citizen," Eric mentally slapped himself for being so gullible, resisting the urge to scream when you tilted your head at him, not sure why the sudden confidence was taking over you in front of the masked superhero.

"Pretty?" Spiderman was thankful for the mask hiding his face because he was sure he'd never felt so hot underneath the mask.

"Not a valid question, next," he blurted quickly, making you laugh.

"It's okay, Spiderman. You probably don’t have time to answer my questions anyway,” this struck a cord with Eric, feeling as though you were talking to him instead of just talking to Spiderman, rushing to your side and waving his hands in dismissal, “No, noo! I do have time! I’m on duty right now, i’m making sure you get home safely!” he assured you, a skeptical expression making its way onto your face.

“On duty, huh?” you repeated, “Say, Spiderman, you couldn’t possibly explain to me why you became Spiderman in the first place, could you?” you asked, seeing his hand go up to his head, unconsciously starting to walk together with you in the direction back to your place.

“You know, i didn’t know exactly, either. I just thought...it’d be nice to try to make a difference in this town, even if it was just a small difference.”

“I think you’re pretty cool,” you spoke, your gaze still directed forward, looking at the glow of the buildings cast from streetlamps, “What you do, i mean,” you corrected.

“You do?” He replied a little too quickly, clearing his throat before shrugging, “I mean, yeah, it’s just...what it is.”

“You don’t mind, right?” you asked, “Me asking you all these questions. I mean, i heard from my friend Eric that you’re a pretty low-key guy so i was kind of shocked you were actually going along with my questions,” you adjusted your grip on the things you were carrying, shoulders starting to feel sore from carrying them for so long.

“Here, lemme get that for you.” Spiderman reached his hand over to try to take your things, but you were quick to refuse, “There’s really no need for that, i’m fine-“

“I’m only helping a kind citizen after a long day,” he shrugged, and when he put it that way, oh, how tempting it was. So you did let him carry your things, besides, no one would know. Especially not Eric, oh Eric would tease you for days if he found out Spiderman carried your laptop and books home for you.

“Are you embarrassed?” Spiderman asked you, and because of how familiar he felt, his Spiderman voice was gone, and strangely, you didn’t even notice. You shook your head vigorously, letting your hair cover your face before finally squeaking out a, “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

You heard Spiderman let out a small huff of laughter, “That’s cute.”

Your head snapped around quickly so you could glare at him, turning onto the street of your house, “Is it part of your job description to flirt with kind citizens?”

He shrugged, and Eric wasn’t sure where he’d gained this new-found confidence around you but he was strangely thankful for it, “Maybe only the ‘you’ kind of kind citizens?” he laughed, realizing you had reached your house already.

“My friend Eric’s gonna be stoked if i tell him i met you.” you smiled, taking your things back from Spiderman, seeing him step back and nod at you. “Sure is,” he told you.

You couldn’t help but find what he said similar to what Eric usually says to you, not being able to help yourself with your next statement.

“You know...you kind of remind me of him,” you adjusted your bag strap on your shoulders, scrutinizing his mask before shaking your head, “Nevermind, pretend i never said anything. Goodnight, Spiderman,” you smiled, waving at him.

Whipping your phone out, you went to yours and Eric’s chat 

10:43pm -you would not BELIEVE who i just saw-

===

Eric wasn't sure what kind of stupid had posessed him to say he'd enjoy hearing about your encounter with Spiderman, but he'd decided after the 3rd time of hearing the same story repeated to different people that he really hated it. I mean, it wasn't as if Eric wasn't Spiderman, it was just hearing you say over and over again that Spiderman was so 'cute!' and 'kind!' and 'had a great butt!' was just starting to get on Eric's nerves, knowing you would never describe him that way.

You'd found Eric's reaction to your Spiderman story rather unusual, since you was usually so used to Eric being excited to tell you about Spiderman and what he 'researched' about him. But you figured maybe he was just tired of hearing the same story. Not that you cared but still.

You were currently seated at the bistro that you, Felix and Eric frequented, spread out across the cushions of your usual booth, your legs spread out in front of you while Felix chose to squeeze with Eric.

Felix's phone had buzzed, and the boy's eyes lit up upon reading the message. "You guys going for the halloween party? One of my friends just sent me the details."

"Halloween party? Like the one we went to last year?" you leaned forward in an attempt to read from Felix's phone.

"The one i went dressed as a princess for?" Eric's eyes widened and you laughed at the memory.

"Yep," Felix nodded, "Its being thrown by the same person, so you guys are invited too."

"Oh my god, we should coordinate our outfits this year too!" Felix cheered, earning a mock look of disgust from you, but nodding nonetheless.

"Wait, maybe not. Cause i was thinking about going as Spiderman," Felix continued.

You let out a satisfied sound at Felix's mention of Spiderman. "I'm telling you, Felix, there's something about Spiderman that's just so.....so-it gets me, you know what i mean?" you spoke, gaze directed at the tv screen in the bistro.

Felix exchanged a knowing look with Eric, whose eyes widened and slurped his drink hurriedly. You were waiting for Felix reply when Eric had handed you his powerbank, asking if you could help him put it in his bag, only realizing a little too late that he'd forgotten to specify which pocket of his bag. And it wasn't as if he could risk having you see his crumpled up Spiderman suit in there.

Bending down and unzipping the back pocket of his bag, you shuffled around for his pouch before catching a flash of red and blue latex at the bottom of the bag, your hand withdrawing from the material when you realized the implications of it, just as you heard Eric add in a, "Front pocket, please."

As if the timing couldn't be any better, you heard Felix chime in with what he thought about Spiderman.

"I mean, when you think about it, i'd say he's pretty similar with Er- ouch!" Felix glared at Eric, mouthing for him to trust him before you sat up, furrowing your eyebrows at Felix, "Nothing, just hit the table adjusting my legs," he told you casually.

"Anyway as i was saying, i think he's pretty similar to Eric," you frowned, the new knowledge of what was in Eric's bag making you think of the incident happening with Eric in Spiderman's place, the idea threatening to make your face heat up.

"Oh my God, no no, don't make it weird, shut up, Felix," you dismissed the thought quickly, not wanting Eric to feel uncomfortable as well, since after all, you did say Spiderman had a cute butt.

Eric looked at you with a confused expression, before grinning quickly and laughing along with you. "Yeah....shut up, Felix," Eric looked down into his smoothie, hoping the shadow would hide his blush.

"You guys suck, i'm speaking some truth here, you know?" Felix huffed, sinking further into his seat, Eric simply choosing to shrug as a reply.

"Whatever, Felix. Just text me the details of the party, i'm gonna head back to my office now. Lunch break's almost over," you told them, Eric nodding in reply, while Felix gave you a wave, shooing you away.

Felix turned to his friend once you'd left, nudging the boy on the shoulder. Eric slumped onto the cushion of the booth, groaning loudly, attracting attention from some of the diners.

"I'm screwed. She's gonna fall for Spiderman and then they're gonna get married and then she's gonna see me as her stupid friend for the rest of her life," Eric whined, making Felix frown in confusion, an amused lilt to his tone when he replied.

"Bro, i think you're forgetting a really important detail..." Eric's head whipped around so he could glare at Felix for interrupting his crisis.

"What now, Felix?"

"You are Spiderman, dude!" Eric's mouth formed an 'o' shape in realization, eyebrows raising as he straightened up in his seat, taking a long sip from his smoothie.

"Right, forgot." Eric stared pensively at Felix, "But how am i supposed to reveal that to her? What kind of elaborate plan can i possibly make?" Eric pouted, earning a grin from Felix.

Shrugging, the blonde haired boy spoke, twirling the un-used straw between his fingers, "Who knows, maybe it'll be easier than you think."

Which was worse, to have shown up at the halloween party with Felix dressed as Spiderman, or the fact that Eric was nowhere to be seen, you couldn't decide. You'd been calling Eric multiple times that night, but a sudden bank robbery had taken Eric from you that night.

"Will you at least help me bring my costume?" he had blurted hurriedly to Felix, who was already dressed in his Spiderman costume. Nodding to appease Eric, Felix waved his hands in dismissal.

"Dude, really, don't worry about it, i got you covered. Just go do what you have to do," Eric had nodded, already rushing to leave.

"And remember to turn off your phone!"

"Already did!" Eric called back.

He didn't.

Now Eric was fighting a robber with Ariana Grande's voice singing ‘One Last Time’ blasting out of his pocket.

Holding the robber off with a kick, the burly man stumbling back slightly, Eric saw the caller id as your name.

Picking up the phone quickly, trying to divert the robber's attention by jumping from place to place to tire him out. "Eric, where are you? You said you'd be here an hour ago!" you sounded more than disappointed, making Eric let out a small groan.

"I'm sorry! Really, just-something came up, and i needed to," he let out a small grunt when he'd landed on the floor a little ungracefully, "settle it. I swear, i'll be there soon."

"The party's getting boring without you, if you're not there in 30 minutes i'm leaving!" you announced, hanging up quickly. Eric whined loudly, dodging a punch from the robber as he put his phone back.

"Look man, I really don't have time for this right now," Eric threw a few webs around the man to stop him from moving, removing the mask from the man's face. "Remember to smile for your mug shot!" he laughed, dialing the police before leaving quickly, shooting webs and swinging himself from apartment building to apartment building, desperately trying to get to the party before you left.

Calling Felix was no use, the boy was already lost in the party, probably even forgetting he had a phone with how much fun he was having. It was only when Eric saw Felix over at the ping pong table did he manage to get his attention.

The blonde boy turned around, "Oh what, same costume? Not cool, man," Felix groaned, earning an eyeroll from Eric that he couldn't see anyway. "Felix, its me," Eric told him.

Felix stared blankly at the suit-clad boy before realization struck him, "Oh!" he shouted, immediately taking Eric aside into the nearest room he could find, ripping off Eric's mask and letting out a loud gasp when he saw the bruise on Eric's jaw.

"That looks rough, what happened?"

"No time for that right now, Felix, where's Y/N?" Eric made as if to go find you but was stopped by Felix's arms on his shoulders. "Woah, man, no way i'm letting you go around with this bruise on your face."

"It's fine, I'll just wear my mask."

Felix gave him an uncertain look, looking fairly hesitant but shaking his head disapprovingly, "Last i checked she was in the kitchen? But i'd suggest you avoid the crowd now, they're gonna lose their shit when they realize Spiderman is here."

Eric groaned, knowing Felix was right, which was why Felix didn't have a mask on. "Okay, i'll just go wait on the rooftop. Just give me a text when you find her."

Eric swung himself onto the roof with ease after leaving the building briefly. Putting on his mask, he lay down on the floor of the roof, starting to feel tired from fighting.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he saw that you'd sent him more texts asking where he was.

In his fatigued haze, he didn't bother thinking when he'd replied you,

9:50pm -im at the rooftop-

Putting his phone aside, Eric looked at the sky through the muffled view he got through his mask, too tired to process the sound of the rooftop doors opening until he heard your voice.

"Felix? What the hell are you doing here? Eric told me i could find him here and when i get here he's not here again," you stomped your foot weakly, sitting down next to what you assumed was Felix's lying form.

"Stupid Eric," you huffed, "You even told me he was definitely gonna be here! All i wanted was a nice night with stupid cute Eric and have a good time but it's just not going how i wanted it to go."

"How did you want it to go then?" Eric finally spoke, making your breath get caught in your throat when you realized the person next to you really wasn't Felix.

"Er-" you stopped yourself, not sure if you wanted to let him know you knew just yet. Though at this point, Eric was too tired to bother about that.

"Spiderman?" Eric huffed at the name.

"That's me, good ol' friendly neighbourhood Spiderman," he shrugged, sitting up and reaching a hand to fiddle with the material covering his calf.

"I'm sure whoever this Eric person is, he probably didn't mean to leave you here without a reason, you know?"

You stared at him in disbelief, narrowing your eyes at him. "Uh-huh," you crossed your arms over your chest, "Just kinda sucks when you have the boy you like right in front of you still lying to your face," you shrugged.

"What?" Eric tilted his head in confusion, caught off guard when you reached a hand over to yank his mask off of his head.

"That's better," you smiled, enjoying the shocked look on Eric's face, his now slightly faded blue hair sticking up in various places because of the mask.

"How are you not shocked?" Eric spoke, hands waving around frantically, expecting a much more extreme reaction from you than what he had gotten.

"To be honest with you, I knew since that day at the bistro when i was putting your stuff back into your bag. Saw your suit," you explained, seeing him lie back down, his hands covering his face.

"God, i'm really stupid, aren't i?" Eric removed his hands, revealing his giddy smile to you. "To save your last bit of pride, i'm not answering that," you smiled back.

"Correct me if i'm wrong," Eric began, his gaze on the mask you fiddled with in your hands. "You know, sometimes it's hard to hear under the mask, but....did i hear you refer to me as the boy you like?"

"Nope," you said, face completely serious as you watched Eric's expression fall, "Oh,"

"Eric, i'm kidding. I totally did." Eric's hand moved to cover the lower half of his face, blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Good, cause you're the girl i like too," he told you casually. Making your mouth gape open in shock.

"Is it just me or does your confidence just become crazy whenever you put on this suit?" you told him with a laugh.

"Maybe," he shrugged, "you know, Spiderman's a real lady killer." You laughed, shaking your head at him. "Oh, i'm sure."

You were sat in-between the open space of his legs, with himself still lying on the ground, "He's got all sorts of tricks, it'd be hard to resist him at all, not my words, his," you scoffed. Eric was having fun with this, finally feeling fully comfortable and at ease after the unnecessary worrying about what you would think.

"Care to demonstrate said tricks?" Eric placed a hand on his chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider your challenge, his ‘Spiderman' confidence taking over him as he shot a web to the wall facing him, "gladly," he told you. Using the wall as leverage, he lifted himself to sitting position and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and standing up quickly as if nothing had happened, he shot you a smile as he held his hand out to help you up.

"Real lady killer, isn't he?"

[notquitecanon]

Lauren Reynolds/ Marvel (Reader Insert) Pt. 5

TW: death, combat, guns, knives, fighting, blood, graphic description of violence and injury angst, arguing (if that counts)

This is Criminal Minds Season 6, Ep. 18, so if you haven’t gotten that far and don’t want it spoiled, maybe just move along, come back and read once you’ve finished season six. 

Gonna be honest, I took Seaver out of this. I love her character, but she just kind of got in the way.  Otherwise, most of this is the same as the episode, except where I either modified dialogue or switched around characters! 

I wanted to use this chapter to show some relationships between the team, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it. Also you lowkey a badasss. 

Part one    Part Two   Part Three  Part 4

___

It took another hour's drive to get to Quantico. Anderson seemed to feel your unease, so he didn’t even attempt to make small talk, only driving faster. You were grateful for that. You were grateful for Steve, trying to cheer you up. But the anxiety was back, climbing up your throat like bile. You chewed on your thumbnail as you watched the scenery go by, wondering what would wait for you at the BAU. 

As soon as you were brought into the building, you caught a beautifully familiar face. Sighing in relief, you rushed forward into a hug, “JJ.”

“They called in all their cards, huh?” She breathed, returning the embrace. You detached as you were ushered into an elevator. 

“Any idea what this is about?” You asked, her lips pressed into a line. That wasn’t a good sign. The elevator dinged and opened up. 

“We’re about to find out.” She muttered, giving your hand a squeeze as the two of you strided out of the elevator. The two of you walked into the BAU like you owned the place, she was wearing her Pentagon ID and your SHIELD badge was clipped delicately to your belt. Hotch was explaining the situation. 

“I’ve reached out to two experts on the matter who can also shed light on Prentiss’ past.” He informed them, pinning what looked like Prentiss’ key card to the idea board. Reid’s head cocked to the side. 

“Them.”

When Hotch nodded to you and JJ, every head swiveled to you. JJ held her head high, trying to hide her anxiety, while you just smiled at your team. 

“Let’s get to work.” 

Within 45 minutes, you and JJ had completely redone the ideas board. With her Pentagon connections and your SHIELD intel more and more blanks were being filled. Even with the advancement, every minute passed was another minute Prentiss was in danger. 

“My contact only knew her history word of mouth.  She assumed Lauren Reynold’s identity when undercover for Interpol. With them they profiled terrorists.” JJ explained, then you piped up. 

“Interpol worked closely with SHIELD operatives for that. She was a part of a special task force called JTF-12.” You added, that information had actually come directly from Clint- who apparently worked several missions against the IRA and had a personal grudge with Ian Doyle. He offered to come in, but you told him to stay with his family. 

“They were assembled after 9-11. CIA, SHIELD, and other Western Agencies assembled the best and brightest. As you may have heard, all sorts of people were recruited post 9/11. These were the same agencies that recruited Bruce Banner, Betty Ross, and tried to recruit Tony Stark.” You continued. 

“Terrorists and Serial Killers profile different.” Derek pointed out. The roundtable nodded. 

“How does Ian Doyle fit into this?” Spencer asked, eyebrows knitted fiercely together.  You made a mental note to check in about his headaches later, but for the moment you just answered his question. 

“Doyle was her task forces last target.” You filled him in, flipping the mission file onto your tablet. JJ nodded. 

“And now the JTF is on his hit list. He’s already hit Jeremy Wolf, Sean McAlister, and Tsia Mosely.” She explained, motioning through photos. “And the team leader, Clyde Easter hasn’t checked in since Tsia’s murder and is currently presumed dead.” 

“Did JTF make the arrest?” Hotch asked, and you answered. 

“No, the host countries handled that so the team could move onto the next case. And so names wouldn’t be on paper.” You informed. Hotch’s face screwed up in confusion. 

“If all they did was deliver a profile, how does Doyle even know about them?” He asked. JJ and you shared a look, but you bit the bullet. 

“Due to the shady nature of terrorist cells, international agencies will use infiltration tactics. Which is why Emily was considered a US spy.” You explained, catching Derek’s disapproving scoff. You knew he liked things straight forward. Spencer, however, continued with another question. 

“Who was undercover on Doyle?” 

This time it was JJ who delivered the bad news, “Emily. She made contact with him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla. She was posing as another weapon’s dealer.”

JJ then passed out printed out photos of a younger Emily, cutting flowers, wearing a linen pants suit. Derek looked at the photos, “She looks mighty comfortable.”

Hotch redirected the phrasing, “How close did she get to Doyle as her cover?”

Once again it was your turn to give bad news, sucking in a deep breath, “Well, his profile included an in-depth background of all his romantic relationships. Emily... was his type.” 

You paused to look at the rest of the table. Morgan’s face flashed with contempt. Spencer’s frown deepened as his eyes flitted back to the photos. Garcia was looking around for an explanation while Rossi and Hotch shared a look. Now they understood just how personal this was for Doyle. 

And that put Emily in so much more danger.

______ 

After the meeting, Hotch assigned tasks. You had watched Derek storm off towards the garage, Rossi following calmly behind him to go through Prentiss’ apartment. Garcia retreated back to her computer room with JJ as they worked on finding any sort of paper trail. 

You were left with Reid, you and he were reviewing the SHIELD case files that were relevant to the case. For the longest it was silent, the two of you working in harmony for Prentiss’ sake. You paused from your scrolling, looking up to the genius. His eyes were moving almost inhumanely fast as he mouth the words he was reading, one hand scribbling down notes as he went. 

“How have your headaches been?” You asked quietly. His head popped up, eyes wide, so you quickly placated him, “No one’s around. I just figured that all the screens, puzzles, and people are probably not great. Reading on screens for the past 30 minutes straight probably hasn’t helped either.”

His eyes softened, going back to the tablet, “The Doctor said it’s psychosomatic. But I think he’s wrong.” 

You nodded, waiting to see if he would add anything to the matter, he did, continuing to say, “They died down a little bit, but it does seem to correlate with stress.” 

You smiled softly, “Have you told the team, yet?” 

He shook his head, smile pulling into a guilty line.  “Just you and Emily, the others would just worry and baby me.” 

You just nodded, going back to your files. It was probably for the best that Derek had been sent to Prentiss’ apartment with Rossi- just the idea of her seduction had made him angry. The explicit details would enrage him. Speaking of the pair, your head turned as the pair rushed through the bullpen to Hotch’s office. 

“Guess that means they found something.” You muttered, watching the door slam behind Derek. With a sigh, you flicked to the next page for fresh content. It was a file report of their first meeting. You’d gone through this countless times so you popped your head up to rest your eyes, settling on the idea board across the room. Then it clicked. 

“If we’re profiling Doyle like a normal unsub, and Emily as his object of desire/rage... It’d make sense for them to go back to the place it all started. That’s Boston.” You thought aloud, eyes meeting Spencer’s. You watched him process before he nodded, eyes lighting up with understanding. 

“We need to tell Hotch.” 

________

“Boston. She went to Boston.” You blurted swinging the door open. All three men gaped at you, Derek was holding Emily’s passport and Rossi’s was dangling a gold necklace from his fingers. Hotch paused before looking to you, with Spencer lurking just behind you. 

“What’s your evidence?” He asked, jaw and eyebrow set. You took a deep breath. 

“Well she’s not running away,” You started, pointing at the passport in Derek’s hand, “And she’s chasing Doyle, who’s chasing her. Like any other unsub/victim combo. They’re going to end up where it all began. That’s Boston.” 

Hotch nodded, gesturing for the rest of you to follow him. JJ and Garcia flanked the group, Garcia rambling her findings as the team sped towards the exit.  “Sir, one of Clyde Easter’s covers was flagged by TSA on a flight to Boston.”

“Have him detained as soon as he steps off. We need to go. Garcia, you're coming with us.” Hotch’s orders were clear and concise, and the team was quick to carry them out. 

_______

On the jet to Boston, you listened to Garcia leave voice messages on all of Emily’s old numbers. Her voice was quiet and small,  you could hear the tears she was holding back as she plead with the voice mail, “Hey, Em, it's me, Penelope. Hotch told me to go through all your numbers, and I found this old listing. You probably don’t even use this anymore, but if you do, if it is you and you’re out there... Come home, please.” 

You could hear her throat tighten, so you placed a comforting hand on her knee. Her other hand laced with yours in solidarity as she continued, “God, Emily, what did you think? That we would just let you walk out of our lives? I’m so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you’re in some dark place all alone. But you’re not alone, ok? You are NOT alone.

We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can’t, then... then you stay alive. ‘Cause we’re coming. We’re coming.” 

She clicked off, pressing the cell to her lips as a safeguard to keep her tears at bay. You squeezed her hand before getting up. Stopping at the coffee bar by the bathroom, you checked your own phone- naively hoping that maybe Emily had reached out. No such luck, as of 10:13. Three hours had felt like three days.  You did have three other texts from your SHIELD friends. 

__

Clint: Be careful with Doyle, he’s more dangerous than he looks. 

Natasha: Clint told me you're going after Ian Doyle. Be careful.

You laughed dryly, so much for secrets. Texting them appeasements, you were touched by their concern. 

Steve:  Just checking in, any word on your friend. 

You: Nothing good yet. Following a lead to Boston. 

Three little dots showed you that he was typing, but you beat him to it. 

You: If that text is going to say ‘be careful’, don’t even send it. 

The three dots disappeared, before reappearing and turning into:

Steve: Yes ma’am. I’m sure everything will work out.    

_______

Twenty minutes later, your tablet pinged: an alert from SHIELD. You had already combined Boston PD with all your relevant tags. You handed your tablet off to Hotch as you voiced your findings, “Hey guys, I got a firefight in east Boston. Automatic weapons, sounds like our guys.”  

“ANnnnnd, I got video footage.” Garcia chimed, tapping away at her computer. She gasped, hands flying to her mouth. 

“Baby girl, what is it?” Derek pressed with concern. You scooted in closer to her to see, soon your understood her dread. 

“It’s, It’s, Emily. She’s here. Oh god, she’s walking into a trap.”  Penelope gasped. Her eyes were watering, but Hotch kept his cool. 

“Garcia, put in on the big screen.” He ordered sternly, but somehow still kindly. The blonde hacker nodded fervently, wiping her eyes from under those red glasses. 

“Right, Right, I can do that.” She said, mostly to herself as she followed through.  Soon the video was on the jets display. All the team members were silent the first time the video played through. The air in the cabin seemed thick with tension. Derek and Hotch visibly tensed, as if ready for a fight.  Next to you, Rossi’s expression hardened, the only readable emotion was disdain. Spencer looked as if he was cringing and couldn’t stop. Beside him,  JJ simply clenched her jaw and forced herself to watch- just as she had done when Spencer was taken hostage all those years ago, Emily had been knew then.  

You watched as Prentiss sprayed the car with bullets, shattering a window before throwing a flash grenade in the SUV.  Then she squatted down to cover her ears, but as soon as the boom was over, she was on the move again.  Stalking around the SUV, that’s when the camera angle switched. Now showing the passenger side, you watched as Emily seemed to negotiate. Then from out of nowhere, a man appeared and shot Emily twice. 

This caused a scream to erupt out of Penelope while everyone else either gasped or winced. Derek, ever the protector, attempted to comfort her with a warm arm around her shoulder, but it didn’t seem to help until the man (who you presumed to be Doyle) revealed her bulletproof vest. There was a collective sigh of relief when Emily seemed to stir. 

Just as quickly as Emily attacked, Doyle shoved her into another van that quickly sped off. Garcia took the screen off the monitor and tapped at her computer a little longer. 

“I can follow them two more blocks, but then they vanish.” She admitted, still furiously typing and apologizing for losing her cool.

When she finally gave up, she moved into the group displaying her screen. The video feed was backed up and ready to play again. The group looked at the paused screen, three men around the black range rover. 

You broke the silence, “They knew she was coming. Doyle was already lying in wait before Emily even got out of her car.” 

“From the first angle, it looks like Doyle got into the SUV. But from this angle, you can see that he didn’t,” Garcia agreed, switching the camera and playing the feed again, “Which I wish Boston PD warned us about before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.” 

Derek watched the silenced video in shock, “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She’s lucky the three people inside didn’t die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”

You stopped to think for a second, thinking of if it did bother you. You realized it didn’t, maybe it would have before SHIELD, but now that seemed like a normal course of action. That said a lot about the effect Natasha and Clint, hell even day to day life with SHIELD had on you. Before you could stop yourself, you lifted your eyes to him, “Three targets.”

Rossi clarified your statement, but didn’t seem to disagree,  “Well, three bad guys.”

Derek scoffed at the word change but Hotch spoke up before Morgan could air his complaints, “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.” 

“That’s how you survive.” You muttered, watching as the video played on a loop, not able to take your eyes off it, “It’s how spies survive.” 

“Don’t eve-” Derek started, but Spencer interrupted with something constructive. 

“He’s come to the US to wage a public vendetta. He even hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.” He defended Emily. Derek sighed in frustration, turning to look out a window. 

“So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?” Rossi asked, floating ideas around. You answered with another question. 

“Well, we’ve already discussed the probability of a mole. So who knew the Emily left the BAU?” You posed the question. JJ continued your line of thought.

“The same guy who’s been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents? So someone who has known Prentiss from the beginning.” She nodded, glancing around the jet. “Our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash.”

Classic rat, selling secrets. A flash of anger went through you before you suppressed it. 

“How do we get Easter to talk? He won’t cooperate willingly.” Spencer asked. The group fell silent, and despite the fact you wouldn’t show it, you couldn’t help the hostility in your voice. 

“There are lines I can cross that you guys aren’t allowed to. SHIELD has looser rules on interrogation.” You offered angrily, glaring at the footage of Clyde Easter on the monitor. Hotch narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to read you but didn’t agree or disagree with your implications. Derek watched you with shock. 

“It won’t come to that. I’ll interrogate him, the rest of you focus on Doyle’s location.” He decided. The rest of the team nodded before Penelope piped up. 

“I hate to be the one to ask this, but,” She paused for a deep breath, “How long does Emily have?” 

Hotch tried to hide his own stress, but some seeped through, “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. This means he’ll take his time.” 

It was a bittersweet hope, but hope nonetheless.  

_______

When the jet landed, it was all a flurry of activity. A race against the clock to save a victim, that was a story you told to often. But this time, you had the feeling of impending dread in your stomach. This wasn’t a random stranger. This was Emily. 

The same Emily that force-fed you water on wilder nights, who had the sweetest cat named Sergio, who saved your ass more time than you cared to count. Emily who set you up on blind dates and drank wine with you when they ended up terrible. Emily who noticed your crush on Spencer and kept it a secret for an entire year until you had gotten over it and moved on- she was the only person who ever knew, and would likely take it to the grave. Emily who always had your back, both in the field and in life. Like the rest of the BAU, she was family, and it was hard when your family was in danger. 

Even though everything seemed to be moving at lightspeed, it somehow seemed not to be moving at all. In fact, you wondered if time had stopped until Rossi dragged in a scrawny man in an atrocious suit yelling obscenities. 

“Who’s that?” You asked as Rossi handed him over to the police. He wiped his hands in discuss as he answered. Hotch approached in interest. 

“Jack Fahey. Irish Mob. He called Easter’s cell phone 12 times in six hours.”  Rossi explained. You and Hotch nodded, seeing the thin connection. 

“Any connection with Doyle?” Hotch questioned. 

“Boston PD says he’s low level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA.” Rossi confirmed. Your jaw hardened. 

“I’ll put some feelers out. Maybe find a few more ties.” You sighed, pulling out your tablet to search through files. Keywords: Doyle + Fahey / IRA. The search was running through millions of files so you set it down while it loaded. 

“You two see if you can get anything out of him.”  Hotch nodded, turning back to Garcia as you and Rossi shared a look. 

____

You, Rossi, and Spencer stood in the doorway of Fahey’s interrogation room. Anyone could see that his skin was already crawling in discomfort, and having three sets of eyes on him would irk him further. 

“Alright, Jack, why were you blowing up Doyle’s phone?” You asked, making your tone as condescending as possible. His fingers drummed against the table impatiently. 

“Any of y’all got a smoke? Bean pole? FBI Barbie?” He sneered, licking his lips. You scoffed, letting his insults roll off you like water. 

“What do you think?” Rossi asked. You purposefully turned your back on Fahey, knowing the lack of attention from the only female would drive him up the wall. 

“Male ego narcissist masking deep-seated insecurity.” Spencer shrugged, looking between you and Rossi. 

“Loudmouth, overcompensating.” You feigned a giggle, “You know what that means.”

You looked over your shoulder giving him the “mean girl” once over. He started to object. But Rossi continued as if he wasn’t talking. 

“So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.” He nodded. Apparently, being called hood rat was more of an insult than a little dick.

“Hey, hey, hey. I ain’t no hood rat. You take that back.” He demanded. You just smiled sweetly. 

“So admit to being... lacking in other areas?” You asked as you took the seat across from him. Spencer stood behind you and Rossi sat beside you. 

“I ain’t neither. I’m more than adequate and I ain’t a hood rat.” He growled, leaning back in the metal chair.  Rossi scoffed as you just smirked. 

“You look like one. Smell like one too.” Rossi paused to take a deep breath, “Smell that?” 

You and Spencer shared a look, dramatically sniffing the air before answering in unison, “Hoodrat.” 

“I am not! Take it back!” Fahey whined. This strategy was working quickly, and you hoped Hotch was having the same luck. Rossi stood, sauntering around the table and leaning down to eye level with the Irish mobster.  

Condescendingly, he asked, “Jack, do you know what a hood rat it?” 

Then he looked back to the two of you, “See what I mean, he’s just gonna have to learn the hard way.” 

Fahey held up his hands in surrender, “All right, all right, Clyde? he was going to pay my medical bills. This ear, it ain’t growing back.” 

“What happened to it?” Spencer asked from behind you. You nodded as if to say that was your same question. 

“This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning.” Fahey growled. Seemingly not noticing the three of you share a look.  “Thought she could take on this IRA big shot named Doyle. So I told these- AHHH.” 

He was cut off by Rossi shooting out of his chair and grabbing the edge of his injured ear, he immediately went limp in his hold to avoid further damage. You inwardly cringed at how greasy his skin and hair looked but ignored it and his pathetic cries. 

“Where is Prentiss?” You growled, watching his eyes dart from you to your teammates as if they were going to stop Rossi. He kept stuttering words, using the word “who” like a lifeline. Spencer leaned across the table. 

“Lauren Reynolds, where is Lauren. Reynolds.?” He demanded. Rossi let go and sat back down, offering him a reprieve to answer. Almost sickeningly, his face lit up.

“Ohhh.” He drawled, his voice made your skin crawl in the worst ways as he cheekily smiled between the three of you, “Friend of yours, is she?” 

“You tell us where she is right now or I swear to god I’ll send you to a prison where they’ll teach you what a hood rat is.” Rossi threatened. Fahey only smiled, thinking he had the power back in his corner. 

“And by the time you do, she’ll be in pieces. So, uhhh. My price just went up.” He grinned. Spencer and Rossi only shared a look while you glared at the grunt in front of you. 

“Dr. Reid, do you have a pen on you?” You asked sweetly, eyes never leaving Fahey who looked more confused.  Spencer produced a fancy pen out of his cardigan, placing it in your waiting hand. “Thank you, will you boys wait outside. I just want to chat with Mr. Fahey here.”

Your voice was so sugar-sweet, that it bordered on malice. With another shared look, the two men left the room and turned off the camera that was recording the interrogation. You waited a few moments, staring at Fahey until he squirmed. He chuckled nervously, 

“Want ole Fahey to show you a good time? I mean I know your partners are still watching, but if it doesn’t bother you, it-” You cut him off with a harsh growl. 

“Shut up.” It was a stark difference from both your condescending and sweet tones. Jack even flinched as he registered your anger. In one swift motion, you were by his side, pressing the butt of the pen into the skin between in ribs and his side, right where the bend of his arm would touch. His entire body immediately seized up.

“I learned this fun little trick from a friend of mine that worked for the KGB in Russia. They made the IRA look like you, like a bunch hoodrats. You wanna know what’s happening? I’m pushing against your brachial artery. If I don’t ease up within the next forty-five seconds, you will start to bleed internally. If I even slip, I’ll puncture your skin and you will bleed out quietly in this chair. You will die a very slow, cold, and painful death, do you understand me?” You hissed in his ear. 

“The Feds don’t allow this! I got rights! They’ll see the video and you’ll go to jail.” Jack struggled, you chuckled bitterly next to his ear. 

“I’m not FBI, and the camera stopped rolling the moment they put a pen in my hand. And given your predicament do you think any of the actual FBI is gonna help?” You asked, pressing down ever so slightly. 

“Ok! Ok! I’ll talk!” He gushed, jerking away from you as you let go completely. You threw the pen on the table, as he continued, “On one condition. The government pays my medical bills.”

You raised an eyebrow, picking the pen up again. His eyes widened backing away, but Rossi entered before you could continue. He looked from you to Fahey.

“We’ll discuss it. (Y/L/N), with me.” 

You nodded, following him out. Once the door was shut, you turned to the older profiler, indignation clear in your voice “Rossi, what gives, he was about to give me everything!” 

Rossi nodded over his shoulder at Derek who was watching you in disgust in anger. You knew Derek disapproved of off the table methods, but this was Prentiss! 

“(Y/N), you almost killed him! That’s not how we do things. I don’t know how they do things at SHIELD or at Interpol, but in the FBI we try to beat the bad guys without stooping to their level- the KGB, really (Y/L/N)? We’re the good guys, or have you forgotten that?” He growled, voice bordering on patronizing as he followed you and Rossi out of the observation room. You gave it right back, emotions were running high and your frustration from Fahey, from Doyle, hell all the way from the last time Fury yelled at you- it was all boiling over. 

“First of all, I had it completely under control, he wouldn’t have died. Second of all, I can name ten interrogations off the top of my head when you turned off the camera or when Hotch had to pry you off an unsub, so I don’t even want to hear it.” You snapped before stopping dead in your tracks to turn sharply to him, voice rising with every syllable and hands gesturing wildly, “And lastly, Derek, I don’t know if you got the memo, but one of our best friends is being held hostage by one of the cruelest arms dealers in the books. This isn’t little leagues anymore, so I’m sorry if you’re too good to get your hands dirty, but I’m getting really tired of this holier than thou attitude towards Prentiss and me. I don’t care what beef you have with her right now. If you’re not prepared to give everything to this case, to get her back alive, then why are you even here?” 

Your eyes were alight with anger, and Derek’s eyes were wide with shock. He’d seen you angry at unsubs, even seen you pop off at Hotch before. But he’d never been on the receiving end, nor had he ever seen this kind of fury. Reid watched on, almost afraid to get between then two of you. Finally, Rossi decided to put a stop to it. He placed a hand on your shoulder, sharing a look that said, ‘Stop before you say something you regret.’ You nodded and let him lead you away from Derek. 

Once out of Morgan’s earshot, Rossi rubbed your back a bit- he was always more fatherly than he liked to claim. “You alright?” 

It was a two worded question, but you knew the implications. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself, before shaking your head, “Sorry, I know now’s not the time for infighting. I just got so, so...” 

“I know it’s hard to keep your head on straight, but the important thing is that you didn’t say anything you couldn’t take back.” He nodded before motioning you along, “Now, let’s get back to what really matters. He’s either afraid of you or in love with you- I can’t tell, that gives us a little bit of leverage. What else did you notice?” 

You chuckled a bit at his joke, letting go of the anger as you answered. “Withdrawals. He needs a cigarette.” 

“Let’s use that.”

____________

“You know when a cigarette is best?” Fahey asked after a long drag of a cheap cigarette. Grey smoke swirled around him like fog on a lake. Derek was worried about me killing him? Lung Cancer will get him long before I do. You and Rossi simply rose an eyebrow, waiting in the cold air on the roof for Fahey to say anything useful.  “After sex with me.”

After that thrilling conclusion, you simply rose an eyebrow as Fahey licked his lips while looking at you up and down. He continued on to say, “The Fluorescents didn’t do you any justice, sweetheart, neither did the stabby stabby, but a fiery woman is attractive and I can be very forgiving.” 

Rossi stepped between you two, pretending to scare him off but really protecting him from you. Growling a harsh,  “Mind your manners.”

Fahey backed off, protectively covering his injured ear, “All right, whoa, whoa.”

Rossi continued own, glaring at the worm, “You’re already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

“It would be a real shame if you, I don’t know, ‘slipped’ on an ice patch and fell.” You singsonged, as you looked to the sky. Fear flashed over Fahey’s face before he smiled cheekily.

“If you keep being mean, I’m gonna fall in love with you.” He grinned. You simply rose a single eyebrow as Rossi put himself between the two of you.

“Listen pal, I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off, and up here she can a lot worse than poke you with a pen.” Rossi shrugged, stepping out from between you two. You just smiled sweetly, flipping the pen through your fingers.  “So out of curiosity, what’s it like working for Doyle?” 

“Eh. He’s not so tough.” Jack shrugged taking another long drag, so long that the cigarette burned down to his fingers. You offered another one and Rossi held up a light. You skimmed the rest of the rooftops, anything so you didn’t have to look at Fahey as he gushed about his ‘involvement’ with Doyle. 

“Wow, you’re really the man, huh?” You asked clearly not paying attention, looking at the building adjacent. Something about its silhouette just wasn’t quite right. But Fahey distracted you with another lewd comment. 

“I could show you how much of a man I really am...” He stopped when Rossi stepped closer forcing him to back off, allowing you to narrow in your eyes on the discrepancy. You’re eyes widened in realization a moment too late. 

The whistle of a bullet followed by a warm spray of blood punctuated his last disgusted comment. A sharp pain grazed your shoulder as you shouted, “Sniper, GET DOWN!” 

Rossi didn’t give you time to argue as he covered you with his body, pulling you to the ground. Two more rounds shredded through Fahey, making his body convulse before it hit the ground. Rossi covered you like you were his own child, holding your head against his chest until he deemed it safe. By the time you were able to get a good look at the sniper- no snipers, there were two- there was just a flash of silver off one building and the other retreating out of your firing range. 

Even with the warm blood dripping down your face, you didn’t think about your own life. Without Fahey, you might never find Emily. 

________

An hour later, the clock had struck midnight and your phone had been long neglected, forgotten on some desk as soon as you had arrived. After getting first aid (and arguing against going to the hospital), your shoulder had been wrapped where the bullet grazed you. You were dabbing blood off your shirt sitting on the bench outside the police station’s bullpen, mentally kicking yourself for wearing white. Hotch slipped in, watching you do so. 

“That’s not going to come out. How’s your shoulder?” He stated, sympathetically. You nodded with a shrug. 

“Could be better. I don’t know what else to do to other than twiddle my thumbs.” You sighed, resting your elbows on your knees. Aaron stood across from you. 

“(Y/N), we have a problem.” Hotch stated, your eyebrows furrowed, waiting for the rest of what he had to say, “Without Fahey, there’s not much left.”

“Hotch, unless you have a point, this is the worst pep talk, ever.” You sighed. Hotch didn’t even crack a smile, he never did on cases. 

“We all want to save Prentiss so bad, that we can’t see this case straight.” He admitted. Again you nodded. 

“Ok, what do we do?” You asked. You were at a loss, exhausted, upset, dirty, and you honestly didn’t know what Hotch was getting at. 

“None of us can give an unbiased profile. So we bring in someone who can.” Hotch nodded to you, handing your cell phone over to you. Suddenly it dawned on you what he meant. You had a call to make. 

________

Hotch left you alone to make a call, he didn’t know any of your SHIELD friends but he said he trusted your judgment. Clint was the first that came to your mind, but he’d told you everything he knew about Doyle, so he wouldn’t be much help, and he was biased. Natasha would have been a good contact, but she was on a mission. Your thumb hovered over Steve’s contact before finally pressing the call button. It took a ring and a half for him to answer, unsurprising he was up at this hour. 

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong, what happened?”  You smiled at the concern in his voice. 

“Hey, Steve, I’m fine, well mostly, but I could use a fresh pair of eyes- or well ears.” You started, waiting for his response to your not-quite question. 

“Alright, what’s going on?” Steve asked and you smiled at his willingness to help. With a deep breath, you launched into the entire story, only sparing the bullet grazing incident. Knowing Steve, he’d sprint to Boston just to force you into a hospital. 

“Steve, you don’t know any of them, tell me, what sounds off?” You asked the soldier who had been patiently listening to you ramble. 

“Keep in mind, I don’t understand much about this profiling science, so it might not be very helpful, but...” He started, but trailed off. 

“Anything is helpful, we’re at a wall and the clock’s ticking.” You sighed, eyes closing as you leaned your head against the wall. 

“How does their affair change your profile? Does that truly affect it that much?” He asked, and while he had a point, you took the moment to relish the blush you knew was on his cheeks. Regardless, you’d already explored that point. 

“What else?” You pressed, wishing you could see his behavior. The other end was silent. “Steve, I’m sorry to put in this position but I can’t even see it straight anymore, please think!” 

“Why is he targetting families?” The Captain rushed out. And your eyes widened. 

“Steve, keep going.” You whispered, rushing into the bullpen and grabbing a dry erase marker. You jotted down, ‘families?’ as you listened to his search for the right words. 

“You said Prentiss is Doyle’s stressor, that he believes she wronged him. So why go after everyone else. The child in DC, it doesn’t fit with the rest of the story.” He rambled. You basically copied him word for word. 

“Rogers, I can’t thank you enough. If this whole SHIELD thing doesn’t work out, remind me to get you an interview at the FBI.” You smiled, praising him over the phone. You heard the rest of the team already chatting over ‘your’ discovery. 

“Anytime, (Y/N),  just be careful.” He conceded. You nodded as if he could see you. 

“I’ll try my best.”

__________

With Steve’s added push and a little help from Clyde, the team was back in action. You labeled him as a family annihilator and deduced he had a hidden child. From that, Garcia cross-referenced Irish Immigrants with Doyle’s employees. That’s where she found the pictures. 

A series of photos. A middle-aged brunette woman and a small blonde child. In the first few they were both crying to the camera, silver duct tape silencing them. In the next couple, there was a hand brandishing a handgun. And in the last three, the photos showed them limp, blood trailing down from the bullet wounds. The photographs were sickening, gruesome in every way. Aside from the obvious, something was wrong. You clicked through them, trying to decipher what your gut was telling you. Spencer watched over your shoulder, seemingly sensing the same thing. 

“(Y/N), look at the hand.” He muttered, and you complied gasping as you understood. Garcia looked at the pair of you in confusion before Derek voiced their question. 

“It’s a hand in black clothes.” He shrugged. Spencer shook his head, reaching over you to point at his epiphany. 

“No, look at the nails.” You clarified, examining the jagged and short edges Spencer was pointing at. Garcia gasped. 

“Oh, oh my god.” Was all she managed, subconsciously scooting her rolling chair away from the computer. First assumptions- worst assumptions- ran through your head at Mach speed, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. 

Regardless of the implication or whatever your instinct was trying to tell you, you spoke, “Garcia reference search warehouses, secluded or abandoned, with their own perimeters, cross that with any Interpol activity. .” 

She simply nodded, clearing away the gruesome photos from her screen. You did the same with your mind, I’ll find out the truth from Prentiss when we save her. We’ll sort this out.

“Got it. 1518 Adams Street.” 

Garcia’s words from earlier that night rang through your head, Emily, I think of how scared you must be, in some dark lonely place. But, Emily, we’re waving flashlights and calling your name. We’re coming, just stay alive. 

_____

“Agent Prentiss is the only friendly in the building. Rescuing her is out primary objective.” Hotch ordered as you all geared up. Safety’s clicked off, ammo clicked into chambers, velcro ripped on and off as vests were strapped on- it had been a long time since you wore FBI labels you thought as you tightened the straps- and there was a collective sense of determination and nervous energy in the air. 

“Our only advantage here is stealth. Once they know we’re on-site, there’s nothing to stop them from killing her.” Derek- always in charge of strikes- informed. “So we keep it quiet until we get to her.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement as the briefing disbanded. To your shock, Derek approached you. The look he gave you wasn’t friendly, but wasn’t hostile either, so you decided to hear him out. 

“Like you said, this isn’t little league,” He began, watching you clip extra ammo clips to your belt, “I’m sure the strike team is great, but as it stands you have a better grip on this than me. I want you in there with me when we go in.”

You simply nodded, holstering your gun. Derek had an automatic weapon slung on his shoulder, while you just opted for extra handguns, giving you three loaded guns on your person. One in your hip holster with a silencer attached, one in the waistband on your pants, and an ankle holster hidden by your pants. Taking some of Natasha’s advice to heart, you also slid a tactical knife into your vest- just in case. 

Derek wasn’t done though, “I don’t know this world, and frankly I’m not comfortable with it. But I can sort my issues out with Prentiss when we get her back. And I need someone I trust in there watching my six.”

The statement seemed mundane, but you knew the meaning behind it, someone I trust. That was as close to an apology as you were getting, but you offered him a genuine smile- you’d take it. Just like old times, you wrapped your arms around him, and he returned the hug. Like a brother to me. 

“We good?” He asked as you let go. You nodded, raising an eyebrow as if nothing ever happened. 

“Let’s get this son of a bitch.” 

___________

Entering the warehouse was nervewracking, as everything relied on stealth. A silenced sniper took out the two guards at the gate, allowing your’s and Derek’s group to enter. Every guard and goon was taken down by a silent bullet, a quick and quiet end to their life. You kept your wits about you. Every step was a step closer to Prentiss. You thought was you stepped quickly behind Derek, eyes sweeping crook and cranny.  

As more and more thugs appeared, the group fanned out. It was a sad fact that anyone who saw you had to be killed or incapacitated- no one could spook Doyle. Not when you were this close. 

You waited for Hotch to send the signal. Winding through hallways, gun at the ready, you waited. Every ounce of anger and frustration you tunneled into fine-tuned senses as you followed Derek. The two of you stuck together, the rest of the team was checking other buildings. As you entered the first large room, you heard it. A struggle, Prentiss’ yells and a man’s grunting as you heard the fight. At the same time, the group of enemies noticed the two of you- your first count said nine. Then it happened, the power went down. That was the signal for all hell to break loose.

“DEREK GO!” You shouted, as two rushed towards you. You shot at one blindly, hitting him in the leg. The other didn’t have a gun so he tried to grab you. You delivered a roundhouse kick to his face, hooking the bend of your knee around the back of his neck and pulling him to the ground. The butt of your gun whipped across his face before you finally pull a bullet in him. Derek gaped at you for a moment, before snapping back to reality. 7 enemies, one injured

“I’m not leaving you!” He yelled back, fighting off another. BAM. Six and one injured. 

“Derek, you have to trust me. I got this.” You growled eyes adjusting to the dark as a particularly large man hulking up to you, “Emily needs you. She’s fighting, but she needs you.”

Derek hesitated, but finally growled as he complied, sprinting towards the sound of Emily’s struggle as you emptied the rest of your clip into the giant approaching you. He was easily seven foot and padded with extra layers of flesh and maybe a vest, he grunted at the shots but he didn’t slow down.  Part of you regretted sending Derek away as your eyes the other five approaching you. 

Make Natasha proud. You thought as you vaguely heard Derek demand back up for you over the comms. Lightning fast, you dropped the empty clip before replacing it with a new one. This time you emptied it into his chest and forehead. Almost inhuman, he kept walking for a minute before finally collapsing in on himself. Five, one injured. You locked eyes with every other man in the room, a moment of calm before they all rushed at you. 

A tall, lean man with blonde hair was the closest to you, so you pitched the empty gun at his face like an MLB pitcher. It hit his nose with a satisfying crunch, causing him to stop to hold onto his bleeding face. Four, two injured. 

The next was almost of a caricature of an Irish stereotype: short, red-headed but balding, square jaw, and bulky with muscle. He had a jagged scar running from his eyes to his neck. He was too close, you didn’t have time to grab another gun. You realized that too late, a solid fist connected with your ribs. The pain was immediate, but just as Nat had trained you, so was your reaction. Her voice echoed in your head as you dropped to the ground and swept his feet out from under him. ‘Your enemies won’t wait from you to recover, neither will I’

 After a swift kick to his redhead, you turned to your left swinging your leg up and around to look around the next nearest enemy, a stocky bald man. Using your leverage, you pulled yourself up and twisted, grabbing your ankle gun at the same time. This sent the bald man to the ground, disorienting him long enough for you to put two shots into his head. Three, two injured. 

In your distraction, the redhead had recovered, sneaking behind you wrapping his strong arms around you, pinning your arms to your stomach. “Drop the gun, bitch.”

You didn’t, so he squeezed you hard enough that you swore you felt the already throbbing ribs crack- or maybe it was your elbow- forcing the gun out of your hand. The blonde, face now dripping blood, approached. 

“Hold her steady for me, Mckellan.” He smirked after kicking your knees, forcing them to buckle before balling his hand into a fist. The grip on you tightened and you braced yourself for a hit. Even with the preparation, it didn’t ebb the pain. You had been punched before, but not like this. You felt the curve of his knuckles whip your head to the side, right where your eye met your cheek, you watched as your earpiece clattered to the floor. The blond kicked it out of your sight. The force dizzied you, but you didn’t get a reprieve. ‘Mckellan’ dropped one arm to take hold of your hair, jerking your head up just in time for the blonde to hail another fist onto your face. This time landing on your jaw, allowing you to taste the blood in your and feel it trickle down your face. 

They laughed expecting you to be done, as your head hung for a second. You defiantly lifted your eyes to the blonde’s, spitting out a mouthful of blood and hoping he could see the murderous glint to your eye. He did, and you saw the fear in his as he registered too late. With all your strength, you threw your head back- twice. The first time you hit your captor's nose, you felt it crumple. The second time was his chin, you felt the force cause him to bite down. Hope you didn’t want your tongue, you sick fuck, you thought as his hold loosened. 

With a little more freedom, you jumped up and arched your back, wrapping your legs around the blonde's neck. With all your might, you threw your body to the ground, twisted your hips, and bent your knees. You felt all your muscles strain but were rewarded with a sharp snap as the man went limp. One short breath before you lunged for your gun, kneeling and aiming it at Mckellan who had just spit out his bloody, severed tongue. Your lip curled in disgust as you pulled the trigger. Standing up, you kept your count, Two left, two injured.

Before you could even find your next target, someone launched onto your back. The sudden weight disoriented you as grubby fingers pulled at your face and hair, causing you to once again drop your gun. His grubby fingers prodded at your face and his heels dug into soft flesh to hang on. Base instinct took over, their weight causing you to blindly stumble backward until you hit a wall. Feeling the contact, you grunted in anger pulling back before ramming your attacker against the wall again. The short man shouted curses at you but didn’t let go. With a primal growl, you did it again, harder this time. Checking him into the brick wall with as much force as possible. This time he dropped, and you instantly whirled around kicking him in the stomach as he scrambled to his knees. You took the leverage, your fingers knotted into his greasy black hair, to maximize force you brought your knee up at the same time you brought his head down. You didn’t know whether he was dead or unconscious, but it didn’t matter as he crumpled to the floor- he wasn’t getting up anytime soon. 

 For a moment, you leaned against the wall forgetting there was still another attacker. You were panting and sweating, fatigue set in as you lost your momentum. The ache in your head blossomed, reminding you of the hits you had taken, your shoulders were sore from Mckellan’s hold, your knees from the blonde’s kick, not to mention the two blooming bruises and busted lip on your face, (you wouldn’t be surprised if your nose was broken), the koala attack and the hockey style defense you put on had your entire bottle rattle, and that was just on top of normal body fatigue. I could really use a super-soldier right about now you thought. 

Of course, your moment of rest was no longer than fifteen seconds. Just enough time for someone to tackle you from the side. You shrieked in shock and pain as you hit the ground on your already injured ribs, your attacker's weight adding to the hit. Your head smacked against the concrete, and you saw stars and you tried to escape as he tried to wrap his hands around your throat. 

It took a moment for you to regain your wits, but when you did, you rolled. Your attacker fell away, or at least his weight shifted enough for you to scramble away. You saw your gun a few feet away, so you scrambled towards in on your hands and knees. Seeing your plan, the bearded man grabbed your ankle and hauled you back to him. In anger, you twisted around, your other foot stomping into his face. You knew you wouldn’t make it to your firearm, so instead, you leaned up and tackled him back to the ground. The two of you rolled a good distance before you ended up with the upper hand. This time with you on top, you delivered one well-executed punch to the face before slipping the knife out of it’s hiding spot. With a growl, you brought down the knife, but he caught the handle as the tip pierced the skin above his heart. For a moment there was a power struggle, he was no longer fighting for Doyle, he was fighting for his life. 

But you were fighting for Emily. A rush of determination lit a fire in you. You reared back, balling up your fist and hitting the butt of the knife like a hammer. It plunged the blade in an inch. Sensing how close you were to winning, he flailed underneath you, trying to hold off the blade with his remaining strength. With one last growl and hit delivered to the knife handle, the last of Doyle’s men slacked against the bloody floor.

 After all the struggle, he was dead rather quietly. Besides the injured one, that should be all of them. You heard the click of a gun safety sliding off.

“You’re too late bitch, Doyle’s alread-” BAM smoke rose out of the hole between his eyes as he fell over.

His (him being the first man you shot in the leg) gloating distracted him before he even had a chance to aim at you. The moment you heard the click, you’d slipped your hidden firearm out. With a groan of pain, you rose to your feet. Everyone in the room either dead or wallowing in pain as Swat flooded in. Slowly, you moved to pick up you earpiece, entire body protesting movement.

“-A MEDIC IN HERE. PRENTISS IS DOWN.” You tuned into the last bit of Derek’s pleading. Like you had been electrically shocked, you were recharged, tearing towards Derek’s location. It was three hallways over, and as you came in, your heart broke.

Emily was on the floor, a bloodied piece of wood sticking out of her abdomen. Derek was beside her, holding her hand. He noticed you, eye raking over your body. You knew you probably looked like hell, but he didn’t comment. There were other priorities and your health didn’t make the list at the moment. 

“Go after Doyle, he can’t have gotten far!” He ordered, you nodded, taking one last look at Prentiss- her eyes lolling around- before you sprinted out the back door. You could hear a commotion up ahead so you followed the noise, reloading your gun as you went. Turning a corner, you could see Doyle across the train tracks about to get into a car, staring straight at you- smiling. 

“IAN DOYLE, SHIELD, PUT YOU’RE HANDS IN THE AIR AND GET ON YOUR KNEES.” You thundered, anger tearing shreds in your already sore throat. Into your comm, you asked, “I have a shot, do I take it?” 

Hotch picked up as a train whistled its approach, “Yes, take the shot.”

Right as your finger twitched against the trigger, your comm hissed in your ear causing you to flinch- but not take your eyes off Doyle who was now grinning like the Chesire Cat. 

“Belay that order. Agent, you do not take that shot.” A new voice took over your comms. 

“Who is this? On whose orders?” You heard Hotch demand. Your eyes remained on Doyle, who curiously hadn’t moved. Anxiously, you gripped your gun tighter keeping your target in firing range. The train was getting closer, making it harder to hear, the spotlight lighting up the night. 

“Order comes from the World Security Council.” The voice shot back. You growled although no one could hear it. You were taking the shot, you had already decided. You didn’t care if you spent the rest of your life in federal prison. Doyle deserved it. Hotch was still arguing with the new voice as your entire body tensed. 

Time moved in slow motion, you were losing your window. Running forward, you squeezed the trigger, bullet ricocheting off metal. But you were too late, the train cut in front of you like a knife. 

“Guys, I’ve lost my visual. Does anyone have sights on Doyle!” You shouted into the comms. Trying in vain to see past the train. Slamming your earpiece into the ground, you screamed a slew of curses at the top of your lungs- your anger, desperation, and anguish being lost in the noise of the locomotive. Minutes later, the end of the train flew by you. Revealing what you already knew, Doyle was gone without a trace.

Another hiss of curses fell out of your lips as you turned on your heel and sprinted back to Emily and Derek. Arriving just in time to see the EMT’s put her on a stretcher, you hunched over to catch your breath. Though you still had plenty of anger, your adrenaline was fading fast, no longer masking any of the pain you were in. You hissed as you limped behind Derek, trying to catch up to Emily’s stretcher. 

“How’s she?” You asked, not arguing when he slung one of your arms of your shoulder to help you. His jaw hardened. 

“She’s been through hell. Lots of blood loss. Maybe some internal bleeding.” He shook his head, leading you back through the warehouse. Back through the room that held your handiwork.  Derek saw this too.

“You look terrible. I shouldn’t have left you.” He remarked, watching as an agent pulled a sheet over the guy with a knife in his chest. You shook your head.

“If you stayed with me, Emily would be leaving in a body bag. She’s got a chance because you scared Doyle off. I’m the one who let him get away- I should have taken the damn shot.” You reprimanded but ended in a low snarl, one arm going up to cradle your ribs that were now throbbing. Normally, there would have been a handful of jokes and a few innuendos in there. Derek would have teased you and questioned you on where you learned to do all that. You would have teased him about being able to kick his ass. But now, there was only resignation. The case was over, but Emily’s fight wasn’t finished. 

When you finally saw the light of the ambulance, Hotch rushed to you. Eyeing you up and down. “We’re going to meet Emily at the hospital, should I call another Ambulance?”

You shook your head as Rossi appeared- the ambulance was pulling off with sirens piercing the night air, “Minor wounds. Nothing to worry about.”

Both older men looked unconvinced but didn’t press the matter, allowing Derek to help you into the back of an SUV. You sank into the seat beside Spencer, who was wringing his hands with worry. He gave you a once over before beginning to ramble about minor injuries and the statistics on death’s in the US. For once you didn’t have the energy to listen or pretend to listen, you just stared at him blankly until it tapered off, ending with his handing you a handkerchief. You took it gratefully, lacing your hand through his as a comfort and dabbing the cloth to your face as the SUV pulled into the road.  

The radio clock read 3 AM, and the night showed no signs of an end. 

____

Garcia and JJ met the rest of the team at a hospital, where the whole lot of you were ushered into a waiting room. Garcia fussed over you a little, which you knew was because she was so worried about Emily, but couldn’t do anything so you allowed it. Several nurses tried to drag you to the ER for treatment, but you refused every offer until JJ came up behind you. 

“Emily will be in surgery for the next few hours, go get patched up. I’ll come to get you if anything happens.” She told you, it was quiet and gentle, like the warm hand on your shoulder- a stark contrast to everything else that night. You hesitated, looking back to your team and then to the doors that lead to Prentiss. Sensing your hesitation, her blue eyes locking with yours, “Prentiss would be the first person to drag you into an ambulance.”

With a defeated sigh, you nodded, letting a short Hispanic night nurse lead to the ER. She, along with a gaggle of other nurses and one doctor’s approval, went to work. They cleaned out the numerous cuts and scratches along your face and arms, diagnosed you with a mild concussion, wrapped your knee (advising you to buy a brace if you wanted it to heal right), and told you that you fractured two ribs. You refused X-rays, knowing that they’d take to long. So with their work done, most of the nurses went to their next patient. 

The one that brought you stayed behind and despite your silence- Claire Temple her name read with a smiley face beside it, was incredibly kind. She handed you two wet hand towels, “You’ll feel better with all that blood off you. Be careful where the skin split though.”

Tiredly, you sponged off the blood- which did make you feel a little less gross- and was careful around the bandages. Claire stood behind you, deft hands working through your hair- pulling out glass, twigs, and god knows what else- before twisting your hair into a loose braid. With a kind smile, she offered you a bottle of water and two large white pills. 

“Thank you for your kindness, but I need to be-” You started to protest. She dropped them in your hand regardless. 

“Honey, those are max strength ibuprofen. You’ll be perfectly alert, as long as you can stay awake.” She smiled- you were exhausted, the clock on the wall read 4:02 AM- stepping to the side. “Go wait with your friends, your other friend should be coming out fo surgery soon.”

Her kindness was something you really needed at that moment, a reminder that not everything was terrible, so you mustered the sweetest smile you could, “Thank you, I really needed that.” 

“I know, now go.”

_______________

The waiting room was bleak. Hotch and Spencer took turns pacings. In the time you had been back, Spencer had gone through three cups of coffee. Garcia was beside Derek- who hadn’t moved, only holding his head in his hands- nervously tapping her pen against her notebook. JJ was in and out, making a thousand different calls. Rossi stared into thin air as he was lost in thought. 

You had only been in there for forty-five minutes, but as you sat a few seats away from everyone else, mentally beating yourself up- I could have taken that shot. I shouldn’t have even asked permission- your anxiety was already bubbling over.

When JJ entered the room without a phone in her hands, you knew something wasn’t right- as did everyone else in the room. A single pull of her lip confirmed everyone's fears. Some tried to remain stoic- Hotch’s jaw hardened, Derek hung his head- others immediately broke- Garcia gaped, denial written across her face, Spencer was shaking his head like he was being lied to.   

“She never made it off the table.” JJ tried to keep a smooth tone, eyes meeting the floor. Your heart shattered, Emily was gone. Doyle actually killed her- you didn’t save her. Your eyes were hot with tears, and before you knew it your feet were carrying you out of the waiting room, out of the ER, out of the hospital. 

Your throat was constricting, tears blurring your eyes as you slid to a stop. You didn’t go that far outside, but the distance felt like miles. It said a lot, that you ran outside- the rest of the team is inside, together. You thought, choking on a sob, you thought bitterly, God, how fitting. I left, just like I left them. 

Your thoughts kept devolving, breathing becoming erratic as it became sobs became harder to hold in, I left, maybe if I stayed I could have noticed something was up with her, brought it up sooner, figured Doyle out sooner. We shouldn’t have waited for SWAT we could have been there twenty minutes earlier. I shouldn’t have listened to Morgan, I should have stayed with them and helped stem the bleeding. I shouldn’t have asked permission to take the shot. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have taken the shot. It wouldn’t have brought Emily back but at least her killer wouldn’t be running free. I should have taken the shot.

You dropped to your knees against the cold pavement, allowing yourself to cry as you looked to the sky for some sort of answer. All you found was a hospital helicopter heading east. You sat outside, in the middle of March in Boston, in a short-sleeve not even noticing your shivering until a warm hand was on your shoulder. You looked behind you to see Hotch, who shrugged off his coat and put it on your shoulders. He helped you up, his ever so serious eyes looked at you- and as always you felt obligated to give him an answer. 

“I should have taken the shot.” You croaked, now acutely away of how cold, hungry, sore, and exhausted you were. Hotch shook his head. 

“You had orders not to.” He corrected, stoic as ever. That was good, the team needed a rock in all this. But at that moment, you didn’t see that. 

“He got away.” You choked, wiping at the near-frozen tear trails on your face. For the first and only time in your life, Hotch pulled you into a hug. It was stiff and cold, and honestly reminded you of every ache and pain, but the sentiment was nice. 

“We’ll catch him again. Let’s go home.”

________

I was excited for this, but then it turned out,,, bad

taglist: @irishfaulk97 @viarogers @toboldlyscream @benji-booxx @sophiiev @thebadassbitchqueen

[mor-beck-more-problems]

No Good Time || Morgan & Winston

Timing: Current

Parties: @danetobelieve & @mor-beck-more-problems

Summary: Morgan and Winston break the news to Coraline Adams’ family about her untimely death. Winston tries out a hunch.

Contains: discussions of death and grief

There was absolutely nothing weird about going over to visit the stranger whose contact info had been dug up from a phone. Morgan and Winston were trying to reunite a family, step in where structures failed, ignored, and forgot. They were, maybe not heroes, but do-gooders. Not stalkers. And yet, dropping by the food court on campus where Marina Adams had checked in on social media felt distinctly stalker-y. Morgan gave Winston a sidelong glance. She was putting up ‘have you seen me’ flyers with her younger sister’s face smiling for the world in the middle. Marina maneuvered her push pins along the bulletin boards with obsessive care. Each flyer lined up perfectly next to the one before, making an even wallpaper along the board, end to end. There was an older woman with her, someone Coraline called her Aunt Jo in an Instagram post, though there wasn’t any sign of relation they’d managed to dig up. Fae were clever though, and in a world where something like this could happen to a girl barely past eighteen, it made sense to cover tracks. Aunt Jo held the stack of flyers, still gleaming fresh from the print store, and scoped around the eating area with steely eyes, as if the killer might be hiding in plain sight like Waldo. “This is...gonna be interesting,” Morgan muttered under her breath. “You wouldn’t happen to magically recognize either of them from campus, would you?”

Raising an eyebrow gently, Winston looked over at Morgan and swallowed before shaking their head. “No, I’m afraid that we never had any classes or anything together and I don’t recognise them,” that would have been a real stroke of luck. At least this would feel less weird. Gaining access to the phone hadn’t been hard. The skeleton key spell had worked almost perfectly, it had required a few modifications true, but once Winston had gotten the wording down it hadn’t been that hard. It was nice designing your own spells, the semantic component actually being in English was great. Not to mention using memes to create your own magic spells was pretty great. “I can throw around the forensics stuff if you really want, technically this isn’t police business but I don’t know if it would really help at all….” Swallowing again, Winston steeled themselves. This was absolutely the right thing to do, even if it was difficult.

“No,” Morgan said softly. “Not that. Or not the police part. If they’re fae-fae, they’re not going to like the idea of humans touching her body or keeping hold of it. But the magic part, and maybe about holding onto her phone a little longer so we can see if whoever killed her was messaging her, if they left some kind of digital trail...that will be good. Magic stuff will be good. Maybe.” Or not, if the alchemy thing went down poorly. “We should just...be honest. Mostly honest. The kind of honest where we’ll stick to the point and only mention the terrible and/or awkward details if they ask.” That said, she ripped off one of the fliers pinned nearby and came up to the pair, holding it out. “Hey, you’re, um, you’re Coraline’s sister, right?” The two women went stiff with alarm, but Morgan pressed on. “I saw your thing. And...well, my friend and I have some answers for you.”

“Where is she?” Marina asked.

Morgan nodded, the truth stuck in her throat. “Maybe we can take this outside the student common. I don’t um...I don’t think this is the sort of discussion to have near so quite so many humans.”

She could see both women looking them over, puzzling over the tremendous lack of fae within them. Whatever trace of herself Deirdre left on her body, it wasn’t enough to broadcast ‘fae ally’. And there was no ubiquitous signal to indicate where she stood. Morgan could see the ‘but aren’t you human’ written on their faces. “I’m sure we can find an empty classroom--”

“I don’t think we’ll be following strangers into any isolated rooms, thank you,” Jo said.

“Or outside, if you prefer. We should, um, we should go do that?” She looked over at Winston, anxious behind her stiff smile.

If they were fae, then promise binding would work and would be enough to prove that neither Morgan nor Winston had any harmful intent for either of the ladies. “Just be honest, fuck okay I can just be honest,” Winston replied with a deep breath. This was never ever their favourite part of anything fae-related but sometimes you had to do things you didn’t love to help people who really needed it. As Morgan and Marina spoke, Winston swallowed nervously, steeling themselves for what they were certain they would need to do. “Listen, ultimately where we meet is not a big deal for us, I promise you that all we’re trying to do in this moment is help you and we simply thought that you’d prefer some privacy to have what is a difficult conversation, we’re happy to work to your preferences, but ultimately the choice is yours.”

The fae didn’t look convinced, but now was not the time for hesitation. Confidence (even when you weren’t feeling confident) and action were what were important.

Winston strode away, hoping that they were following. “Let’s hope that this works, because I hate promise binding myself for literally no reason.” Winston whispered to Morgan, it didn’t really matter if they heard, but privacy was always nice.

Morgan watched the shift in Marina and Jo’s expression. She couldn’t sense whether either of them had taken Winston’s words or not for certain, but the look they exchanged with one another seemed to indicate that someone had. “Very well,” Jo said after a moment. “We will find out if you’re lying, though.”

“It’s a promise given willingly,” Morgan assured.

Jo remained unimpressed, but lead them out of the student common and onto the quad. She lead them to the middle of a grassy area, far enough away from everyone that Morgan searched the ground for traces of mushrooms just in case this was going to be some obnoxious fae trial. So far, so good though. Morgan held her hands in front of her, looking first at Marina, and then at Jo. “So, the thing is...I found Coraline a few days ago. Well, I found um…” Stars why was this so hard? “I was able to identify her through her Student ID…”

“What do you mean, ‘identify her’?” Jo snapped.

“I mean she’s dead!” The words were out before Morgan could think of anything better or gentler to say. She balled her hands into fists, fighting for control of herself and dropped her gaze from the two women.

This was going very well, Winston wasn’t sure that they would’ve used the tact that Morgan had thought appropriate. But then again hindsight was twenty twenty and maybe Morgan wouldn’t have done that either. Eitherway, they were here now and this was going to be hard. A thick lump had grown in Winston’s throat and they couldn’t help but try and swallow it away, not with great success, but still.

“Listen, unfortunately we found her body and …” Winston swallowed again they hadn’t any idea how the officers in the station did stuff like this on a daily basis, “... there was significant damage to Coraline which made it hard to identify her, which is why we had to use her student ID.”

A second later and Winston was taking a further deep breath. “We wanted to let you guys know and we’ve got some questions that we were hoping you might be able to help us with, I don’t know if you can but yeah, we wanted to check and see if you did have answers so that we could rule things out.”

Marina Adams had been raised to fear humans and what they would do if they ever discovered what she and her sister were. They were animals, but worse for their capacity to be cruel with intent. They had no right to touch her sister, to hurt her. She stared into the faces opposite her, face slack with disbelief as she cried. “I don’t understand…” she whispered.

Jo, on the other hand, had seen enough of the world in her forty-odd years to know what to expect from strangers with guilty faces and bad news. “Damage? What kind of damage? You don’t know the first thing about what ‘damage’ means to a girl like Coraline. I think we’re the ones with questions here, such as who are you to be meddling with her body and what help you think you can possibly offer us.” She fidgeted with the sleeves on her cardigan and put an arm around Marina.

“We know enough to promise-bind our intentions willingly,” Morgan replied. “And we have resources you probably aren’t used to seeing from people who aren’t fae.”

Winston was glad that they weren’t having to do this on their own because honestly this was really hard shit. Maybe that was why police officers always or usually worked with a partner. It definitely helped having someone else to bounce everything off of. “We came here to help you and we’re doing everything that we can to help you, honestly, we’ve kind of put ourselves in a precarious position by promise binding ourselves at all,” Winston thought that would have earned them more trust but obviously not.

“We’ve been looking into the death, because unfortunately that is what we have to call it,” Winston bit their lip hesitantly, “there are lots of things that don’t add up.” But Winston had their own theory that they had already shared with Morgan.

“We were able to gain access to her phone,” Winston remembered the spell they had performed, it hadn’t been that hard to work out the way that things had gone from her phone records, not to mention the GPS trail that it left, “it was very illuminating.”

Marina continued to cry. Nothing these humans said would make a difference. She had told Coraline a thousand times that college was a waste, that she didn’t need to blend in this far, that the kids at the lake back home would drown just as well as the swim team and the partiers. But Coraline was the baby and the baby got her way. And now this. But Jo kept her head. Jo lived in the human world more than anyone else the Adams family let into their tight little circle. And she could be brave enough for all of them. “Phone? What phone? How can we trust whatever it is you find. If you know so much about our world, you should know you can make an illusion charm for almost anything these days.”

“Not for the kind of trail my friend is tracking,” Morgan said, her voice tired, but patient. “And not with the methods they employed. I can assure as someone who knows their Agrippa from their Atkinson that this is no false signal.” She nodded at Winston encouragingly. None of this felt like a good idea anymore, but sitting back and letting them look and wonder had seemed so much worse.

“Tell me what you found and give me the phone,” Jo said.

Things seemed to be breaking bad quickly. Winston couldn’t help but feel their heart surge with pity for Marina as she sobbed. “I promise you that this phone is not an illusion, I’m in the know enough about your world to know that this isn’t a glamour or some piece of magical trickery, however I don’t have the phone with me currently.” Even if they did there was no way that Winston was going to give it over to the person that they were pretty sure was responsible in some part for Coraline’s death. They’d said as much to Morgan already, it didn’t make sense for it to be anyone else. Aunt Jo appeared to be the most obvious culprit. “We found a number of messages, facetime calls and a GPS signal, they all paint a picture of Coraline’s movements.” Maybe they’d trip up. The criminals often did. Winston wished that the Sarge was here to see this. Winston hoped he’d be proud.

“Tell me what you found!” Jo snapped. Her rage was loud enough to echo over the lawn and sent Marina whimpering. The woman was angry; of course she was. The floor was being ripped out from under her. Her family, related or not, was in pieces.

Morgan wasn’t sure how much she agreed with Winston about the probability of her hurting Coraline. There was nothing that looked wrong in the pictures they’d examined and even if there was a spike in correspondence before Coraline died, there was nothing to show that she hadn’t simply been attacked after. They didn’t even have proof Jo was a witch, much less an alchemist. She looked uneasily between everyone gathered and put out a gentle hand toward the woman. “We have some solid ideas and we’re following up on them.” she said. We’re following up on you, for one, she added silently. “We were able to identify how Coraline was killed. We know there’s only so many people with the kinds of capabilities her killer exhibited, and we’re confident we can track them down. I know this is a terrible moment, but  finding out who did this is very important to us.”

Jo withdrew from Morgan, pulling Marina with her. “Oh, well as long as it’s very important, why should we worry? I think this family has had enough ‘help’ from humans at this point. We will handle the casters--the wardens, whoever else did this ourselves, thank you.” She tucked Marina close against her side and marched them away.

Morgan deflated as they retreated. “Shit…” she sighed.

There was something in Winston’s stomach. A feeling.  A conviction. A certainty that this was the aunt. Her reaction to their unwillingness to completely take their point of view into account all but convinced them but WInston was hesitant to allow this Jo to just leave, especially with Marina in tow. “If you change your mind please don’t hesitate to contact us,” they managed to say before the other pair were gone, “fuck, I’m sorry I can go after them and try and convince them to talk to us more…?” Winston already knew that it was pretty much useless. She had made it very clear that she wasn’t looking to have a discussion about this, not now and not anytime soon. As they gained distance on them, Winston chewed their lip. “That was a big reaction for an innocent person, I guess she could just be distressed but I don’t know … there’s something off.”

“She’s probably having the worst day of her life, Winston,” Morgan said, grimacing as she watched them walk away. “And grief doesn’t always look like collapsing in tears. Who knows what the rest of this family’s life is like. If they’ve bonded with the water here or if this was supposed to be a fresh start or--anything.” She held herself tight, wondering how the universe expected any of this to turn out balanced or fair. Two lives had been taken, that she knew of, and at least two more were wrecked because of it. “If you’re right and Jo isn’t fae, she probably just feels guilty for her species. I...I just don’t see how she can be that close to those girls and not feel for how fucked their situation is. You can try as hard as you want, but it’s impossible to keep yourself or anyone else safe all the time.” Morgan gave Winston’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, for doing this with me. You were pretty darn brave there.” Glad as she felt to have the technomancer in her corner, though, Morgan didn’t feel any closer to piecing together the murders. Until she could work up the nerve to confront the body again, it was back to the drawing board.

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: I’m an Idiot but At Least I’m Fun

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

BIG CW for this one: Blood, mild body horror.

(Totally ran out of time to post this yesterday, so here we are a day late again! For the 2/3 people that actually see this on tumblr lol. Just one chapter, and not a mega long one, but be safe while reading and feel free to message me for a summary or sections to skip if you’re worried about the content warnings. Hope you enjoy!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

16. I’m An Idiot But At Least I’m Fun 

    There was a steady dripping from the edge of the table she sat on. Azure sighed and then held her breath, digging the scalpel into her arm once more. She’d missed the intended node once already, and this was getting a little dicey. It crossed her mind that she really should consider an assistant for when she did her more complex updates, but then she’d have to deal with their concern for her wellbeing and that really only ever did more harm than good for her efficiency. A twinge of pain shot up from her elbow, and she reached behind her to carelessly flip a switch on a box wired to her ankle by about four yards of copper wire. The pain subsided, and she set the scalpel down in exchange for a pair of forceps. Time to dig. The dripping continued, blood running onto the ground and towards her workshop drain. She paid it no mind. She’d eat a cookie later. 

    But still, something burned at the back of her mind. She looked at the clock on her monitor, brow furrowed as she wiped a bloody gloved hand on her shirt. She was forgetting something. The faulty node was still blinking beneath all the blood, taunting her. Suddenly, a spurt of blood crossed the room, and some wiring escaped her arm, snaking slowly out of her open incision. She grit her teeth. That was never a fun feeling, blood-warmed metal exiting her body. “Fuck, oh, goddamn it-” Another spurt of blood, this one dripping down her arm and to the ground even though she had her free hand clamped around it. She grumbled low in her throat, words coming through the forceps she now held between her teeth. “Sonofabitch, I swear everytime I try-”

    “Bluemom, You have a visitor.” Her floating personal assistant bot, Bean, hovered over to her, his front display reading out her current rate of blood loss and the time. “He had an appointment.”

    “I don’t recall my brother or Turq or even Smalls needin’ appointments to see me. Just send ‘im in, whoever he is he’s seen worse I’m sure.” She waved the bot off and he hovered away, whistling his customary exit tune. She used the hand on her currently bleeding arm to open a drawer and rummage through its contents. “Gauze, gauze, gauze….”

    The door slid open, and a voice, not that of any of her shipmates and yet all too familiar, said, “Jesus.” 

    “Your Three O’Clock is here!” Chirped Bean. “Trinity Jericho has arrived.”

    She looked up to see Trinity standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. She could practically see the loading screen behind his eyes as his brain searched its databanks for an appropriate reaction or facial expression in response to the bizarre scene in front of him.

    She was a mess, blood running down her arm and all over her white tank top, a spare coil of fine wire hanging around the shell of her ear. A strange contraption was slithering its way out of her wound, the inside of her elbow flayed open. She’d have blushed in embarrassment, but she couldn’t really spare the blood, so she settled on smiling sheepishly. “Oh, uh, hey?”  More blood, this time escaping her fingers and splattering weakly at her feet. “...I’ve got gloves in that drawer right there behind you, would you mind helpin’ me for a quick sec? My hands are occupied right now.” Her tone was conversational, as though she was asking him to grab something from a fridge as opposed to putting on gloves to shove wires back up into her bicep. She continued using her lacerated arm to dig for gauze, blood dripping from her elbow and onto her bare feet.

Rather than figure out how to react, it looked like Trinity had decided not to react at all. His face was exceedingly casual, save for his slightly raised eyebrows, as he went over to the desk and removed the gloves, pulling them on. “Should I even ask?”

Something between a human laugh and a pig snort left her mouth. “Only if it’s necessary. I think I just nicked a vein. I’m more concerned with these connectors, they’re not supposed to be connected this loosely, which means they really shouldn’t be hangin’ out my arm like a hound dog out a pickup truck window.”

“Just nicked a vein,” Trinity mimicked, affecting a higher pitched southern drawl that combined with the slight disbelieving tone to his voice. “Ok. Ok, you’re completely insane, and probably only partially from blood loss. Now, tell me what to do.” He turned his attention to the wires, examining them closely with an expression that rivaled his focus when looking at a particularly interesting problem in one of his own production lines. “I think I see the basics of what’s going on here, but you’d know best.”

“It’s just the coolin’ lines, they kinda just gotta be-Oh!” She pulled a roll of gauze and some medigel from the drawer she’d been digging in. “Found ‘em.” She looked back up at him, arm stretched out, still applying pressure. “I’m not insane until I lose a full liter, by the way. We’re not even a quarter of the way there. They’re just coolin’ lines, you can just shove ‘em back in. I’d have done it already if I didn’t need to keep my blood in my body.” The cooling lines glowed a faint purple and continued to slowly snake their way out. She beheld her own mess with interest for a moment, puzzling something out. “Wonder if I could…”

“Let’s save that little curiosity journey for later, yes?” he interrupted, just the slightest hint of panic creeping into his tone that stopped short whatever she’d been about to come up with. “Maybe best to explore all the other experiments you could run on yourself when you’re not already bleeding all over the floor.” He started pushing the wires back into her arm, probably more gently than she would have done herself. “And, for the record, you’re insane with all your blood in your body. But I’m sure you know that already.”

“It’s what makes me fun!” Her irreverence for her own safety could almost be seen as endearing, if it wasn’t so dangerous. She grabbed a spray bottle marked ‘alcohol’ in big red letters, a roll of duct tape on her wrist. “Here, put pressure on it once it’s all in there, I’ll secure it back down later. Musculature will hold it for now.” She put the spray top of the bottle of alcohol between her teeth and bit down, twisting to remove it and dumping some of the contents over the open wound, no sign of a grimace. “Quickly dude, or we’re gonna be covered in blood. My heart’s still beatin’. God this would be so much easier if my limbs were detachable.”

Trinity almost said wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been covered in blood, or detachable limbs are another thing we don’t want to explore right now, but he was a little too busy to worry about snappy comebacks. He got some disinfectant a little more directly to the wound by covering a bandage in medigel, and set to work sealing the edges together temporarily with glue that he knew should work like stitches. The alcohol had luckily done the double job of cleaning away the excess blood, so all he had to do was swipe away the fresh blood that had just welled from it with a piece of gauze and apply the bandage. On top of it he folded a few more pieces of gauze for extra pressure, and he secured the whole thing with medical tape. It was quick, but rather well done for a rush job nonetheless. Azzy blinked at the result.

“Oh, I was gonna slam some gauze and medigel in there and throw some duct tape over it but that works too.”

“I know that’s what you were going to do, which is exactly why I didn’t do it. Might as well make use of an extra pair of hands.” Said hands, though gloved, were a bit of a bloody mess now, and he walked over to a sink with a bin for biohazard disposal to clean up. “Luckily I know something about cybernetics and first aid. I know you do too.” Unspoken was the implication that not everyone did-- that most people would probably freeze up or panic at such a sight. Beneath even that lay certainty that she did this often. Despite his jokes about her being insane, she’d been perfectly calm. This maybe wasn’t how all her repairs went, with the blood and all, but it wasn’t a surprise, either. He thought maybe that should scare him, but instead he simply accepted it as fact. What else could he do?

“Can’t see how it matters too much, can’t avoid the scarrin’ anyway. Thanks, though.” she looked up at him with that same lopsided smile before bending her arm a couple times. “I forgot you were comin’, lemme get this shit cleaned up and we’ll get that maintenance outta the way.”

He shrugged as he finished washing his own hands and disposing of the gloves, and started to help her clean up. “Scars, those don’t matter. Everyone has them, visible or not, you don’t make it far in life without them. But in this kind of world… I think you might as well save yourself a little pain and danger any time you have the chance.” There was an honesty in his voice that drew her attention, but he was facing away from her. He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned with a crooked grin. “So, what nefarious plans do you have for my eye today?”

She was already across the room in front of a pair of doors, arms crossed over her front to pull her shirt up and over her head. She was facing away from him, her back tan and striped with thin white scars all the way up her spine, ending in one final splintering burst at the base of her neck. Barely visible at this distance was the white ink tattooed across her back to make the whole mess look like a dandelion puff. The shirt fell to the ground with a wet flop as she hit a button to open a closet full of more white tank tops, these ones pristine. Her hands were clean already. “S’not like I feel it anyway, that’s what the ankle wire’s for.” She grabbed a shirt and tugged it over her head, fixing her beanie as she turned to face him again and grabbed a mop from the corner. 

“Ankle wire?” He glanced down, mechanical pieces fitting together behind his eyes. “Of course. You electrocute your nerve endings to suppress pain. Makes perfect sense.” Was she imagining the tiny edge to his voice? “And to think you lectured me before about the external charging I was doing. Don’t you ever worry you’ll fry them, go numb permanently? Although…” He shook his head, the joking tone back to his voice. “Never mind, you could probably fix that if it happened, anyway.” 

Azzy began cleaning, ignoring the edge to his voice. This was why she never let anyone assist with her cybernetic self experimentation. This, and the process of the reset. She let herself sound cocky. "Of course I could fix it. Anyway, I have an update for the cooler, so it'll adjust with your body temp, like a real eye. Good for if someone's lookin' atcha with thermal imagin'." She hit a button and hopped onto a counter, the edges of the floor beginning to flood slightly with water. "I also thought maybe I'd upload this real spicy book I read last week to it, in case you get bored. You’ll love it." She snorted, unable to keep a straight face.

He laughed quietly along as he lifted himself onto the counter next to her. It was odd-- even through genuine humor he was looking at her like he was considering something, searching her for the answer to some unspoken puzzle. He let his gaze wander again just before the point where consideration became outright staring. “Feel free. That thermal imaging sounds like a great idea.”

The floor was done flooding, washing the remaining blood down a drain in the center of the room. She hopped back down, crossing the room and grabbing her boots off a shelf. Can't mess with people's eyes with your bare feet just out and around. She looked up from her feet with a curious expression, like he'd given her a brain teaser. "What was that look? You were thinkin' about somethin', and it's almost definitely not the alien erotica I'm puttin' in your peeper as soon as the standard tune up is done."

He shrugged. “I’ll tell you later. There’s some research I want to do first.” He slid off the counter. “First things first, heat regulation and alien erotica.”

"Don't have to tell me twice. Get on the table, I'll get the hookups. Pop that sucker out too, I need to check the retina." She pulled a clean pair of gloves on, snapping the cuff against her wrist. The sensation ricocheted up her arm. Her elbow and wound sparked. Her freshly patched arm swung out of its own volition, landing squarely on Trinity’s backside. Azure blinked, tips of her ears turning bright scarlet as her mouth twitched. “Oops.”

Trinity turned to look at her and blinked bemusedly. “...Getting an early start on the erotica part?” he quipped, but his already pink cheeks flushed darker as he spoke.

Azure giggled in response, pulling her arm back the moment she realized she’d left it there in shock. “Sorry. The node’s been misfirin’, if I hadn’t missed the incision point I’d have replaced and calibrated it by now, my bad.” Her eyes flickered briefly downwards and then immediately to her desk, smirking as she rolled her shoulder and shook her hand to get out any further bursts. “...Glad to know you don’t skip your squats. It’s a nice ass, now that I’m lookin’ at it instead of the wires in my arm.”

“A misfire, sure.” Trinity smirked back. It was easy to tell she was being serious about the misfire-- a lie would have come with a lot more stammering and awkward pauses-- but it was a prime opportunity to tease his friend that he wasn’t about to miss. “Your powers of observation are astonishing. Here.” He popped out the cybernetic eye, deceptively simple looking detached from its complex inner workings. He grinned, and tossed it lightly in one hand, waiting for her to turn back to face him. “Catch.”

She held a jar of fluid for his eye in her hand already as she turned, brow raised. As she faced him, he smirked and tossed the eye towards her, an easy to intercept underhand throw. “Ohfuck-” Snatching it out of the air and setting it gently in the jar, she pouted at him. “Dude, I’m not makin’ you another one if that one breaks.”

“You didn’t make the first one.” He smiled. “It’s fine, I knew you’d catch my eye.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then set the jar down and cracked a smile, some small hint of a blush on her cheeks. “Very funny Hotshot, well done. Don’t throw your fuckin’ organs.” Digging out a small monitor and some wires, she glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “I’m sure all the girls tell you that though, right?”

He scoffed, amused at the idea of the women at the events he attended saying anything about organs out loud. “Just you. It’s a bit of an honor, really.” 

“Flatterer. Don’t think I don’t know about your eight illicit rendezvous with five women in the last two days. Sara Mitchell told me all about them last time.” She rolled her eyes and stood, handing him the bundle of tech and tugging at his shirt collar to plug something into his port. “They’re tryin’ harder every time, I swear. I can see why you wanted the backup more ‘n more, I can’t imagine how you got anythin’ done at those things.”

“Mostly by ignoring anyone I didn’t want something from,” Trinity replied casually, opening his shirt a few more buttons to let her access his port more easily. The motion revealed those tattoos she’d already noticed a few times before when doing repairs-- the birds in flight, the trinity knot, the wall, the crumbling tower. Again she considered that their placement, so close to bone in most places and with so many heavy black lines and detailed patterns, must’ve really hurt. A phantom pain shot down her own spine in sympathy at the thought.

“Well, I guess that explains it just fine.” She flipped a few switches, monitors whirring to life. “Not very nice, but then again neither is listenin’ to them gripin’ because I won’t tell ‘em your-” She stopped herself, face reddening as she dropped a heartbeat sensor in his lap. A nasal feminine voice replayed in her ear, begging the question how big is it, really? She picked her sentence back up with a rambling vigor, trying her absolute best to drown her own thoughts out. “-current plans. Nasty, all of ‘em. Super nosy. Can’t blame you for ignorin’ it. Wanna put that on your finger? Don’t matter which, any of ‘em are fine, I gotta make sure the readin’s are accurate.” 

He gave her a look like he wanted to question her about the hesitation, though she was certain he had a pretty good idea what the ladies had actually been asking her about. However, he simply quirked an eyebrow in her direction as he slipped the sensor onto his pointer finger.

Face still red, she hooked the eye up to a different wire. Something hummed and buzzed, and she heaved a dramatic sigh. “Sorry, you don’t have enough space for the porn. You have all of it allocated for images and text files made by the unit itself.” She made a few keystrokes and turned, looking at everything but him. “Okay, that’s updatin’. Lemme see your empty eye socket, your nerve is registerin’ some weird readings.”

Trinity turned his face up to hers, exposing the scarred inner socket of his eye. He’d never said what had happened to it, but it didn’t look pleasant. “The optic nerve? It should be fine, it’s totally cybernetic. It’s not degrading again, is it?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice at the thought.

“It’s probably just one busted cell. It’s still machinery, sometimes parts need to be replaced.” She grabbed a pair of foreceps and clicked them together where he could see with his good eye. “Tell me if you feel this, because you’re definitely not supposed to.” She poked around at the back of his socket. “Anythin’?”

“No. I think your mother poked around in there enough when she was installing it that it won’t feel much ever again.”

“Then your actual nerve past the cybernetic and into your brain is fine, its just a couple of cones tryin’ to be data transmitters.” She poked at something else and made a small noise of triumph. “I’ll have it replaced, shouldn’t be hard. I think I made a couple extras when I was up all night last week.” The foreceps went back to the table and her face reappeared in his line of sight, beaming. “Your whole business is just as busted, but it’s no worse than when you came the first time. Matter of fact, some of the burns from when your eye wasn’t cooled properly have healed pretty well, like they weren’t even there.”

“Oh,” Trinity responded, pleasantly surprised. “Yes, I tried to do some first aid to keep it from scarring the way my leg did when I used to charge my taser externally.” He didn’t meet her eyes, even though he’d only done it a half dozen times, and all long before he’d met her. The second reminder of his own carelessness with his remaining nerves made him feel a bit guilty for sniping at her about her own. “I took the eye out when I could, used some burn creams and medigel, that kind of thing. Anyway, I’m glad to hear that there’s nothing wrong with the organic nerves.”

“Yep, if nerves had feelin’s they’d be happy as hell. Strong impulses, not too much overtime. Whatever took ‘em out the first time, you’re recoverin’ pretty well given that you lost your whole ass eye.” She returned to her computers, hands flying deftly across the keys and screens as she looked for more anomalies. 

“Well, it’s been a couple years at this point. I let it degrade for a while before I sought out your mom, but… it’s good to hear that damage didn’t last.” At least those nerves had recovered. Others hadn’t, but that was going to be the subject of his research for the next few days. Despite what he’d seen earlier when Azzy had been working on her own cybernetics, he trusted her implicitly with his. If anyone could fix his problem, she could.

“It makes sense, the brain doesn’t like leavin�� things so close to it busted. Optic nerve is pretty close.” Her tongue poked out at the corner of her mouth and she squinted at her screen. “....Hey, want a wider zoom on your sensor?”

“Why not? Whatever you think, I trust your judgement.” He leaned back slightly, relaxing, and let her work. She stood quietly for some minutes, occasionally humming a quiet tune that was almost familiar. 

Eventually, she was satisfied with her work. She unhooked his eye from its wires, passing him the jar. “There you go, go ahead ‘n smack that back into its place and you’re all set. Recalibrated it’s temperature sensin’ and the coolin’ system to be a little more sensitive to ambient heat. Don’t go swimmin’ in super cold water, though. Might be a little too ambient for it for now.” She had that same smug look she always did when she was done doing maintenance, eyes bright.

“Of course. Thanks, doc.” He said the last bit with a slight smirk, and popped the eye back into place. It rolled around for a few seconds before settling. “See you at the next event?”

“Only if that guy with the braid’s there, I hear he’s kinda fun.” She took her gloves off and waved him off the table. “Get outta here, I gotta reset my arm.”

“Alright.” He stood, a quick pat on her non-injured shoulder his goodbye. “Be careful of that wound. I bandaged it so well, it would be a shame if you messed up my handiwork.”

“I have three doctorates, of course I’m gonna mess it up.” She gave him a quick pat as well, her smile genuine. “I’ll go easy on it. Bean’ll take you back, careful none of my scary vigilante’s eat ya on the way out.” The small bot hovered over his shoulder, beeping a hello tune.

He grinned, and nodded. “I’ll try to steer clear. Let’s go, Bean.” He followed the little bot from the lab, with one last wave towards Azzy, not looking back. She heaved a sigh and grabbed a wire, connecting it to one of her ports once the door closed behind him. She had a limb to test and reset.

[semisemieita]

One of your favourite ships is KawaSemi? And you haven't received one for them yet, right? So please, a KawaSemi one! Any one of the prompts would make me happy, so please go for it!

 anon id die for u...ig i’ll go with “friend aren’t allowed to kiss one another”

Out of all the unlikely relationships between the volleyball club members, the friendship between Kawanishi and Semi was the most puzzling one. At first glance, they didn’t seem that different from one another but, looking closer, they definitely were. 

Kawanishi was an apathetic second year, never really caring much about team spirit or giving his all. He was tall and lanky and chronically tired, always yawning and stretching out his aforementioned lanky limbs. 

And Semi, well, Semi Eita was the exact opposite. He was gung-ho and put firey passion into everything he did. Being the setter? He trained, endlessly. And when Shirabu replaced him as a starter, he put everything he could into fine-tuning his serves, making sure he’ d be the best pinch server the team could utilize. He was loud and he was brash but, even so, he and Kawanishi were friends. 

He always made sure Kawanishi dried his hair during post-morning-practice showers, throwing a towel to him and saying “Oi, Taichi, I know you’re tired but you’re gonna get a goddamn cold if you don’t hurry up and dry off.” 

They baked muffins in the dormitory kitchen together; lemon and poppyseed. 

And, even more surprising than their friendship, was that it wasn’t really a friendship. It was a budding romance (even though the only two people that didn’t know it was a romance were Kawanishi and Semi). 

Everyone knew (except Ushijima, who never knew) and everyone placed bets. Shirabu bet they’d get together by Spring Tournament, Yamagata said before graduation. Reon said “please don’t violate their privacy, guys,” before agreeing with Yamagata. 

“Taichi?” Semi asked, walking back from practice with the younger, trailing by his side. 

“Mm?” 

“Are we going to keep in touch after graduation?” Semi’s voice wavered, just a little, as he spoke and he looked up at the sky. Hues of orange and yellow, like a deep brushstroke in the atmosphere, painted the sky, clouds dotting it. A cool, almost-spring breeze blew through Kawanishi’s hair and he inhaled, slowly. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. 

“I think we should,” Semi declared. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Kawanishi’s eyes widened a little before a quick grin passed through his lips. Semi was the epitome of Kawanishi’s existence and he couldn’t deny it. 

“It would be,” he agreed. They continued to walk again when Semi stopped, once more. 

Kawanishi flashed him a confused look as Semi studied the ground with a twisted up expression. Gears were turning in his head and Kawanishi would’ve paid the world to hear those thoughts. 

“Taichi?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we should kiss.” 

Kawanishi’s heart may have stopped beating. “Friends aren’t allowed to kiss one another, Eita.” 

“Then maybe I don’t want to be friends anymore,” Semi shrugged. “Maybe I want to stop this friendship before its too late and I do something I’m not allowed to do.”

“I see,” Kawanishi’s words fell off his tongue in a jumbled mess. 

“What do you say to that?” Semi asked, eyes drifting up to look at Kawanishi. He was gorgeous and, if he was dreaming, Kawanishi never wanted to wake up again. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Kawanishi answered, stepping three paces forward, arm outstretched, to make good on Semi’s request. He cupped Semi’s jaw, soft and unblemished skin feeling sinfully right in his palm.

Semi kissed back, unadulterated love rushing through Semi’s mouth right into Kawanishi. Tenatively, the younger took a quick swipe of his tongue across Semi’s bottom lip and relished into a low squeak of a moan Semi let out in response. 

It wasn’t like he’s never kissed before (he kissed two girls in middle school, back when he was still running around trying to convince himself he was straight) but kissing Semi felt like his first kiss. He never wanted to stop. 

Pulling away, Semi was breathless, cheeks flushed, when he said, “that was nice.” 

“It was,” Kawanishi agreed. Then, “we should do it again.” 

“Definitely,” Semi beamed. 

i can’t tell if i like this or not but thank u for requesting and letting me write my fav ship

send me a prompt from this post pls

[littlemeowyoons]

Bonded

A/N- It’s my first time posting my writing on Tumblr but I guess better late than never huh, so here you go. More is in work so please anticipate a lot.

~Fay

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff(lots of them), a drop of angst, Single Dad! AU, College! AU, Introvert! Yoongi, Tutor! Y/n

Word Count:1.7k

Synopsis: Yoongi found a basket left in front of his dorm room one day, and turns out it was his daughter, left alone crying. Puzzled and scared was an understatement. When his 4 semesters roommate Jimin left for his hometown, he was left with the last straw of help, turning to his physics tutor a.k.a friend-that-I-only-know-name-but-have-no-interest-in-knowing-more ; you.

Series: Masterlist ll Part 2 lI Part 3

                                           Part 1: Distress

                                            °•. ✿ .•°

“Why own a fucking iPhone when you can’t even answer a fucking call?! Dammit!”, he breathed hard after his nth tempt to connect the line failed again, his own Samsung device was clutched tightly in hand, knuckles turning white from the pressure. Yoongi had reached that point where smashing the black covered device in hand to the wall was considered a bliss, but he was saint enough to convince himself otherwise. Not when his phone was his gateway out of this mess; the only way maybe. So he tried again; redialing the numbers, manually even.

 “I swear I’ll shred your trench coat to pieces, fucking im-“

The end of the line connected midway his constant ranting.

“Oh thank God above you finally answered! What took you so long?”

“Ever heard of Bio lecture Yoongi?”, the soft voice at the receiving end answers calmly, though Yoongi knew the person was beyond annoyed.

 Who wouldn’t? Multiple spam in all form of communication, texts, kakaotalk, Instagram dm; at this point, Yoongi wanted to settle down to those damn pigeons. Even Yoongi would be out of his head if it happen to him, not that it will happen in the near future or anything.

“Don’t outsmart me woman, I’m not in the mood.”

“What is it Yoongi? You know I have class at this time of the day”

“I need your help”, his breath came out breathless than ever.

“Fuck if you’re asking about the same kinetic and potential energy chapter, I’m gonna rip all my nonexistent and existent  hair out of my-“

“Please…”

                                        ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You swear it took you everything not to scream out of frustration watching your phone blow off during lecture period. Plus, the same ID that keeps popping up on the lock screen adds the bitter taste. Once your professor said the word ‘thank-‘, you were already making your way out of the hall, books not even properly shoved in bag and you were sure you left your favourite baby blue Sharpie highlighter behind.

Once in the hallway, you yanked your phone out of your sling bag and slide the screen harshly, already embracing yourself for the upcoming questions and constant groaning. What you did not expect is the person on the other side panting heavily, desperate. Yoongi sounds…distress.You were still processing his jumbled words but once the word ‘please’ escaped his mouth, you froze.

That word is so rare to even pass-through Yoongi’s head, what less say it. The last time you remembered the word ever exist in his sentence, was the day he consulted you at the cafeteria. Head down, full frown and shoulder slumped was some few giveaway you could collect which equals to one thing; failed test.

You were used to people asking you questions, since you were one of the few alphas in curriculum areas. But having Yoongi, the junior of Art and Music Department, Majoring in Music Production asking you to be a full-time physics tutor is…well, unexpected. You pity him, that poor boy seems like he couldn’t breathe for goodness sake, not until you lean back to your metal seats and smile softly, not forgetting to nod along while you utter the word that Yoongi seems dread to hear, ‘Sure, when?’

You swear his eyes shine like a good measure 60 watts light bulb. But that was long time ago, you lost track how long it was though you were sure it won’t be more than a year now, hearing that Yoongi is in serious problem was the main pushover to your muscle cells.

The thing is Yoongi never beg, ever. He never sounds that desperate even when he got 5 per cent on his last two physics quiz, he never sounds this discomfort.

“I’ll be there in five”.

                                          ☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:⠀ ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾

You almost lost a footing while climbing the stairs up the boys’ dormitory, but you didn’t stall behind. Once room 103 is in front of you, you proceed to reach out to knock, when you heard an infant’s cry. You froze, chest rising in rapid beat from all the runnings.

“Yoongi?”

The crying was still there, you glance to check the neighbouring room number on the door, confirming that the room in front of you indeed belongs to Yoongi. So you crossed your heart and decided to knock, after all, you go with the concept YOLO. The door opened to reveal a hopelessly in despair Yoongi and a small woven basket on his dinner table, the moving mauve blanket shows that he wasn’t alone in the room, physically anyway.

Though the facts were right in front of your eyes, your mouth was sealed from emitting any word, what less sounds. You just stand there, at his doorstep, mouth agape. The cried were getting louder and the small tiny hands rising from the woven basket was doing nothing other than deepening the frown on Yoongi’s forehead.

“Come on Y/n, say something…”

Once his words registered in yourself, you took a last glance to Yoongi, before backing away into the hallway and sprint off.

“I need to go.”

“Y/n wait!”

No no no, this is bad. He thought Y/n would be different, thought she’ll understand but turns out, she ran away.

“Just…just like Hyoju.”, Yoongi whispers.

The cries from behind him gets louder and he snapped to look at the one sole thing that currently gives him a headache.

“Can you fucking shut it?!”

Yoongi growled but then retracted away from the dining table, against the wall and sliding down on his back until he reaches the floor. A sudden seed of fear bloom in his chest,

“What am I doing, am I already out of my mind? He’s just a baby, what does he even know?”, Yoongi sigh while standing and dragged himself to the basket, brushing along his slender fingers through the baby’s thin hair; his baby. The living being right in front of him is his own making, an act done without even considering about the effect. In this case, Yoongi can admit that he’s one of the few to be blame, maybe THE ONE to be blamed, fuck he was so drunk that night he can barely remember her, the mother of his child, Han Hyoju

The baby’s crying subsided a little as soon as Yoongi’s fingers make contact with the head, as if the touch of a 10-minutes-ago-newly known-father is proof that it’s safe for the little one.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do”, he whispered because it was a fact.

Yoongi was never a fan of kids, he was never a person-type, a typical signs of an introvert. His only source of never-ending help support is none other than his roommate, Dance Major Park Jimin. He helps Yoongi realize that age is just numbers, Yoongi; as a hyung, two years older, seeks more advice than he wants to admit. This whole two years living with Jimin, the topic of conversation never goes off if it didn’t start with Jimin encouraging Yoongi to get some sunlight on him to which Jimin always said, as Yoongi quoted “We don’t need a walking paperwhite corpse walking around campus, hyung. Go out and get some air would you?”.

 It’s just that Jimin’s happy go lucky trait as well as his naturally warm smile is enough to blooms a friendship unlike Yoongi, who people would just point fingers at and said ‘cold, harsh and rock dead’ just by a mere look. Jimin don’t, however. That’s how Yoongi opened up a little to him. But now, that said roommate can’t help him, being on the other side of Korea, back in Busan his hometown for four days(though Yoongi doubt he won’t prolong it) limits Yoongi to ask for any favour to his friend. The kid in front of him will die of thirst first if he waits for Jimin. That’s what left him to his other only friend; Y/L/N Y/N.

But Yoongi could understand what you did, how you act. It’s because both Yoongi and you didn’t share more than three sentences, or on some lucky days short bickering outside of your tutoring hour. He only knows the basic things for someone to be an acquaintance; name, major and room number(because it slipped your mouth once when texting your roommate), but other than that, zero-knowledge. Jimin insisted that he asked more, to what Yoongi always dismiss, he’s too shy or scared, or maybe both.

Though Yoongi knew so much, he still labels you as a friend, which means a name listed in his life whereabouts, significant enough for him, not a nobody. He wanted to smile thinking that you’re indeed a friend to him, but it falters upon remembering you retreated away.

“I’m doomed…”

A sudden burst of the door jolted Yoongi, retracting his hand that once was playing with the baby hairs on his child’s head. You walk in, head high and face determined. You dropped off your school bag by the sofa, the usual place when you hang around Yoongi’s room after tutor session. Yoongi was overwhelmed, all his senses went numb, why did you return?

“Yoongi, does the baby comes with a bag, a pouch, anything other than the basket?”, you already made your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi still got a perfect view of your side profile from where he’s standing.

“Umm-“, Yoongi snapped out of his short trance and reached out for the mustard yellow beg that was originally in the same basket as his child when he first opens his door this morning, “Is this it?”

You glance over to him and nod, motioning him to hand it over. Once the bag is in your hand, you unzip it and pull out a baby bottle. Yoongi just watched in awe as you mixed baby formula, Yoongi assumed the grey paper bag you brought with you contained the powder formulae. He knows he shouldn’t be gawking like that, but he’s completely amazed, the fact that you came back had him racked his brain for a reason why, and now you’re going through all of this just to feed his kid. He felt small. Once the formula milk was done, you walked towards the living room and straight to the dining table, where the baby is. The red face of the baby shows just how long it had been crying.

‘Poor thing.’,  you thought. You put down the baby bottle on the table, hands reached out to swoop out the crying baby and puts the nuzzle near the mouth. After some effort, the baby takes in the nuzzle into his mouth and right away the rooms fell into a deep silence.

“Aww you poor thing, starving huh? It’s okay it’s okay. I got you.”,  you cooed.

Yoongi stood there dumbly, watching you feeding his own child, still confused but for sure, extremely grateful. Now if only explaining is easy enough.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Goddess of Dawn (Ethan Ramsey x MC) {AU} *part 1*

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

{AU}

Author’s note: Hello, hello, hello! I’m emerging from the other side of the first week of uni! It will be a doozy, let me tell you that. The fact that I had exactly zero time or motivation to write, I decided to dig up my secret stash… an AU I was mentioning here and there.

So, it’s set about two years after OH1 and that’s all I’m gonna tell you, so I don’t spoil anything for you.

At the time of me posting this, AO3 is down temporarily, so I’ll add the link when I can

Enjoy! <3

-------------

I.

Rain was falling heavily from the sky, thick clouds coloring the world with grey colors and deep shadows. Puddles of water and mud covering the streets, shoes sinking into the ground. The ER was busting at seems, people coming and going, doctors struggling not to trip over one another.

Ethan moved from one room to another, placing quick but careful steps as to avoid slipping on the wet floor. He stopped by the entrance to the hospital, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. The coldness embraced him, making him shiver, his thin white coat providing not enough comfort to keep him warm.

The apparent tranquility was severed quickly by the screeching sound of tires scraping against the asphalt. It all happened quickly and quietly, the door of the car opened, a pair of hands pushed the black bag out onto the ground and then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, the movement showering the dark mass on the ground in dirty liquid. For a moment the world stood still, until someone approached the strange object and screamed at the top of their lungs.

“It’s a body! Help, somebody help! I think I see blood!”

His body kicked into the fifth gearshift, throwing him forward before he knew what he was doing. Ethan fell to his knees, untying the knot at the top of the bag and pushing the material away, revealing a young man. No more than twenty-eight years of age, his face deformed, nose probably broken, his lips opened as he breathed unevenly. Ethan ran his eyes over the body, searching for the source of bleeding, and sure enough, a wound that seemed to have been caused by a bullet was roaring on the side of the chest of a young man.

Without a moment of hesitation, he picked him up, having previously made sure that he didn’t have any spine fractions, and, as fast as he could, carried him inside. The ER didn’t have empty beds, so he had no choice other than taking his patient to the OR to examine what was wrong. The man was conscious, but couldn’t see to talk, and every question Ethan directed at him was answered by silence. He called for a team of surgeons, letting them take over as he finished the initial examination.

A bullet wound, etched deeply between the ribs. His pupils were blown wide, which indicated that he may have been under the influence of some drug.

He requested a CBC and drug tests, then left the room, letting his colleagues do their work. That’s all he could have done, and now all he could do was wait. In the meantime, he decided to go and ask if anyone knew who the patient was, any clue that could help them understand what happened.

The first thing that came to Ethan’s mind was some sort of a gang activity, most likely a revenge that didn’t come to its fruition yet, because the man was still alive. The way the body was discarded, like a bag of waste, like useless garbage, it made him shiver. The man was young, and regardless of who he was, regardless of what he did or didn’t do, he didn’t deserve what happened to him.

Hours later, when the operation was over, he got the lab results back. No diseases, nothing genetic, drug tests came back negative. Nothing was conclusive, symptoms weren’t adding up, confusing him even more. No matter where he looked, it all led to a dead end, and at that moment he knew that he wouldn’t be able to figure it out on his own. He needed help.

And he knew just who to ask. Just as the thought entered his brain, a blonde braid came into his view, a bright smile greeting him, her eyes sparkling.

“You look conflicted. Did something happen?” Claire’s voice broke through a thick mist of his thoughts, standing next to him.

Claire… Claire has quickly become a significant part of his life. Over the past two years, they went through their fair share of experiences, with her earning a place on his team, which remained hers to this day, her work outstanding and her contribution to medicine tremendous. Of course, having her so close to him was not the easiest thing for him to do, as they both harbored feelings for each other. It would have been much less painful if he could hate her, if he could avoid her, but that was impossible. Whether he liked it or not, he seemed to be locked with her in an impasse, and all roads apparently lead to disaster and pain.

Despite the tension that filled the air every time they were in the same room, despite the sparks that lit up his body every time they touched, they somehow managed to last two years without breaking the promise they made to each other the evening of their first day back after the trial. That they would not compromise their careers and lives of their patients by giving in to desires that were fleeting.

Except they were not fleeting.

Seven hundred and thirty days. Seven hundred and thirty days of remembering how good it felt to have her in his arms, how her lips tasted, how he fit with her like two pieces of the same puzzle. The sounds she made during those nights of passion, ringing through his ears at all times of the night and day. And then they put a lid on it all, sealing the past with a lock, throwing away the key. All would be perfect, if it wasn’t for the fact that the key seems to have bounced off the wall it was thrown at and the lock was getting rusty, easy to break if enough pressure was applied.

“Ethan? Are you okay?” Claire’s voice broke through to him again, pulling him back into reality. Her eyes were trained on him, a few lines appearing on her forehead. Judging by the tingling sensation he felt in his arm, she was touching him.

“Huh?”

“You drifted away. One second you were here, and the other you were on the other side of the universe. Come back to me, Doctor.” She laughed a little, shaking her head at him. “Okay, so what’s going on? Tough case?”

He looked down at the file in front of him, using his hands as support as he leaned over the table. She joined him, her body mimicking his actions, so they were at a comparable level of vision. They observed the results in science, both deep in thoughts.

“I was meaning to ask for your opinion, because I don’t see anything in here. Nothing makes sense, nothing adds up. I mean, look-“ he pointed out one of the tests written on the paper at the same time as she reached in the same direction, and their fingers brushing against one another briefly.

Almost as though they were electrocuted, they jumped back and away from each other, their heads turned towards opposite directions to avoid eye contact. He cleared his throat, choosing to be the first one to break the awkward silence.

“So, um, any ideas as to what it might be?” he questioned, observing as her muscles tensed visibly all of a sudden. When she turned around, she had a haunted look in her eyes, like she was reliving a painful memory.

“I- I think I saw something like this before, but I’m not sure what it was. Who is the patient?” she clearly tried to control her voice but couldn’t help the break in it as she asked for the identity of a man whose results they were discussing.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know. He was thrown out of the car in front of the ER a few hours ago. I saw it happen myself, it was me that brought him in and took him as my patient. I asked if there was any ID on him, but they found nothing. At least for now, he’s John Doe. With some sort of condition that no one can diagnose and a bullet hole between his ribs.” He mused, remembering how bloodied his white coat was after he left the OR room and went to his office. “If I had to guess, some drug cartel fights.” He added, noticing how her whole posture straightened considerably at the mention of an illegal activity.

Claire was awfully quiet, something clearly on her mind. He saw her struggling before, saw the look of despair and sadness on her face when she wanted to save a patient but couldn’t. This, however, was something different. This seemed like a reason enough to make her stop in her tracks, to wipe everything else clean from her mind, leaving only the problem itself. Before he could ask her what the matter was, she turned to him, her face straight again, a desperate attempt to cover up her real feelings.

“Can you take me to him? Maybe we’ll be able to read more from his chart.” Her words seemed small, unsure, like she wasn’t certain if she even wanted to know who the victim was. He nodded, pointing with his arm to lead them both out of the room.

Walk through the halls was quiet. Claire didn’t mention anything about what was on her mind, and he didn’t push, because he wasn’t sure what was the case in the first place, and he didn’t want to overstep. The door was closed when they reached their destination, and it was her that reached for the doorknob first, not giving him a chance to even think about doing so.

She took a hesitant step into the room, her eyes focusing on the silhouette of a man on the bed. If he was confused by the whole situation before, now he reached new heights of perplexity. A shrieking sound escaped Claire’s lips as she threw herself in the direction of a man. She leaned over him, her hands touching his arms gently.

“Charlie?”

-----------

Tag list:   @paleweasels, @lilyofchoices, @hopelessromantic1352, @aloehasrose, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer, @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements,  @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie,@choicesobsessedd, @cassiusownsmyass, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @yesimacerealkiller, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h,

[frighthouseofalighthouse]

I'M GONNA DO IT TO EM' ALL ASKS THAT YOU REBLOG TONIGHT TILL 10 AM TOMORROW.... DO THEM!!!!

Hey, you had to do it to ‘em! Here they are starting with the most recent.

“Weird asks that say a lot”

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs because you can use them for everything. Teacups are too small for a proper cuppa.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars always.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum, which I miss so much. I haven’t had it in over 2 years bc of my braces

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

I didn’t go to public school but all the adults who dealt with me said I was sociable and tried to get everyone to do the group projects but no one listened so I ended up sitting alone reading and quietly doing the project.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Glass BOTTLES make it taste superior.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Pastel boho preppy goth best describes my style.

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds, but only rubber tipped ones. The plastic ones never fit in my ears. Also headphones never cover my whole ear right. :/

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows keep my attention span better.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Brewing thunderstorms.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

None. But trampoline if I had to pick.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast, and some kind of fruit.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

My main one is Things You Love. My one for writing is Queen And Country, and my other two favorites are Summer Songs and A Queen Knows How To Fight A War.

13. lanyard or key ring?

Key ring, lanyards get in the way.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Swedish Fish or Sour Patch Kids.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

OH MAN. To Kill A Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Fahrenheit 451, The Grapes Of Wrath, and The Handmaid’s Tale were definitely my top 5 in English class.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Curled up sideways in an armchair with my legs slung over the arm. Sitting normally sucks.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Either pair of my black boots, or my pink floral Skechers that I wear to work.

18. ideal weather?

60 degrees, cloudy, windy, with a chance of rain.

19. sleeping position?

On my right side, arms around a fluffy pillow, one leg out straight and the other drawn up with my knee to my chest.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop. I’m trying to exercise my hand and wrist so I don’t tire as quick of notebook writing, though.

21. obsession from childhood?

History, Nancy Drew books, Harry Potter, and ghost stories.

22. role model?

The person I am but don’t think I am.

23. strange habits?

Pulling my shirt collar up over my nose and mouth/putting it in my mouth and chewing on it.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst, my birthstone! Close second is blue goldstone. (Have you ever seen it? It looks like the universe. I have a worrystone made of blue goldstone and it’s one of my prized possessions.)

25. first song you remember hearing?

Something from church probably. Outside of church probably one of these: If I Had A Hammer // Peter, Paul and Mary, Puff The Magic Dragon // Peter, Paul and Mary, Scarborough Fair // Simon & Garfunkel, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald // Gordon Lightfoot.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Sit in the shade.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Drink tea, read, and play either Pokemon or Nancy Drew and the Clue Benders Society on my 3DS.

28. five songs to describe you?

The Pines // Roses & Revolutions, I Am Here // Pink, Walk Me Home // Pink, Call Home // Heathers (not the musical), Traveler’s Song // Aviators

29. best way to bond with you?

Talk to me about history, crime, musicals, books, or tv shows

30. places that you find sacred?

Natural swamps. Libraries. Old, overgrown gardens. Anywhere historic. Pine forests at dusk. Anywhere under a clear night sky.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A plaid shirt, black leggings, and black boots with dark neutral lipstick and a black choker.

32. top five favorite vines?

Fre she vocado, BENTLEY NOOOOO, uhhh I sure hope it does, the one of Lin Manuel-Miranda trying to brainstorm, and this bitch empty YEEt

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Idk how to find this out

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Idk if this is just a local thing here but WOW ITS NATURESTONE

35. average time you fall asleep?

12-1 nowadays.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

I can haz cheezburger

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Depends. Suitcase for things like my laptop that are better protected than in a duffel bag, but duffel bag otherwise because they’re easier to carry.

38. lemonade or tea?

TEAAAAA

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Both please

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

My house? We had a safe word when we did math. It was “quokka.” If we got overwhelmed we’d say it and then stop and look at pictures of quokkas.

41. last person you texted?

My friend and coworker.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Jacket pockets.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Cardigan or hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

Lavender

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy. It takes me a bit to get into fantasy books usually, but sci-fi is hard to follow and superhero is mostly predictable.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Fuzzy pants and a t shirt

47. favorite type of cheese?

Muenster, parmesan, or goat cheese

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Raspberry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“I have no country to fight for. My country is the earth, and I am a citizen of this world.” - Eugene V. Debs

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

A weird local political ad a couple years back.

51. current stresses?

My recent breakup, an overnight shift I work on Wednesday night, and trying to find time to go out to a corn maze with my friend.

52. favorite font?

Baskerville or Georgia.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Covered in small cuts and scrapes from work, nails picked short, black nail polish mostly peeled off.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

babysitting job: Kids suck never have more than one. Retail job: being on your fee it hardddd

55. favorite fairy tale?

Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel

56. favorite tradition?

Looking at Halloween decorations

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Cutting, being manipulated by my dad, and letting other people make me believe I wasn’t good enough (still working on that one)

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Writing, puzzle-solving, singing, and calligraphy

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Oh shit waddup”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

One of those preppy gothic private school animes with a dark secret lurking around the corner

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Book: “Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance. You have to work at it.” - The Handmaid’s Tale. Movie: “It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” - Wonder Woman. TV Show: “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” - Doctor Who.

62. seven characters you relate to?

Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin, Richard Gansey III, Blue Sargent, Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury.

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Same five that I said describe me.

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz and the old American Girl site circa 2009.

65. any permanent scars?

One down my chest from heart surgery as a baby, lots from self harm on my arms/legs, some on my left knee from falling as a kid, and one on the back of my right heel from being pecked by a goose at the fair when I was 11.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Sunflowers, roses, and dahlias.

67. good luck charms?

Myself.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Ranch anything.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Jellyfish have no brains and no heart.

70. left or right handed?

I’m third generation left handed!

71. least favorite pattern?

Vertical stripes.

72. worst subject?

Math.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Wendy’s fries and chocolate frosty.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

7. Usually I just ignore it because I have a “high pain tolerance” (which means I like to put myself through minor pains because I think I deserve it)

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Age 5. I was trying to blow up an inflatable ball and it came out.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

ALL POTATOES EXCEPT POTATO SALAD

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Violets.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither, both suck equally.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Never had a school id so I guess the license

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones for me

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

...They are literally the same thing

82. pc or console?

PC

83. writing or drawing?

Writing. I absolutely cannot draw.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts, talk radio is so obnoxious.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie. The clothes are easier to take on and off. I used to accidentally rip polly pocket clothes all the time.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology. I like it because it explains things, it’s creation stories, its origins. Fairy tales are just fantasies or cautionary tales.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies.

87. your greatest fear?

Rejection, drowning, and clowns.

88. your greatest wish?

To be a semi-successful author and historian.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom.

90. luckiest mistake?

Not succeeding in killing myself!

91. boxes or bags?

Bags.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Dim lamps if they have yellow bulbs. I hate white lights. And also fairy lights yes please.

93. nicknames?

Ellie, Ell, Little Lion, Lioness.

94. favorite season?

FALLLLL

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr, Spotify, or Instagram.

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

6.

98. favorite historical era?

Revolutionary War-era America or late Victorian England.

THIS GOT REALLY LONG AND I DONT WANNA HIT THE TEXT BLOCK LIMIT SO IMMA DO ALL THE HALLOWEEN ONES SEPARATELY, MAYBE IN THE MORNING.

[griffins-fanfic]

Finding Midnight-Chapter Two

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Moxiety, Background Logince

Warnings: none that I know of

Summary: shenanigans continue, featuring Midnight being a sassy little shit

AO3

[[MORE]]

The vet was very kind. She told them that Midnight, shockingly, didn’t have anything wrong physically except for malnourishment. She gave her a vaccine, then suggested a meat-based wet food diet, checking Midnight’s weight regularly to see if she’s gaining weight at a healthy pace, and told them to come back in three weeks for a booster shot.

They were on their way with Midnight in a carrier and headed to the nearest pet shop. Midnight fell asleep on the walk there. Virgil had a sudden spike of worry as they walked through the door, wondering if cats were even allowed in there. But, he spotted someone with a leashed Great Pyrenees at checkout, and figured that if that giant ball of fluff was allowed, then the kitten the size of Virgil’s hand wouldn’t be kicked out.

Patton had the shopping list, but he was quickly distracted by the rodent aisle. Virgil took the list and walked over to the aisle with all the collars. He set the carrier down on the ground and picked a couple options from the shelf. Then, he crouched down and looked into Midnight’s eyes.

“Alright. What about yellow?” he held up the yellow collar. It was an eyesore, but he had to give Midnight options. Silence from the kitten. “Blue?” It nearly perfectly matched Patton’s favorite shirt, which was a bonus in Virgil’s mind. Still silence. “Purple?” Quiet, then one tiny mew. “Alright, purple it is.”

They moved to the beds, finding Patton already there, holding up a medium sized pink bed. He turned to Virgil and showed it to him. “This one!” He said.

“Isn’t it a little big?” Virgil asked.

"She’ll grow into it. I don’t know. I was drawn to it.”

Virgil chuckled. “Valid. Let’s see.” He studied the list. “Food, litter, litterbox. Probably some sort of scratching post.”

“And lots of toys!” Patton added.

“Divide and conquer? I get the food and litter, you can get the box and toys.”

Patton nodded and started skipping off to get the stuff. Right before he turned the corner, Virgil shouted, “Make sure she can get into the box!” earning a thumbs up. He then swung around to the front of the store to pick up a cart and went over to the food aisle. There, he located the brand recommended by the vet and picked up a few cans. Then it was over to the litter. There, his phone rang.

“Hey,” He said.

Logan’s voice came through the phone. “Virgil, it’s Logan.”

"I know, caller id exists.”

“Correct. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I will be unable to attend movie night this week. Please give Patton my apologies.”

“Will do. You’ll make it next week, right? Pat will be disappointed if you miss two weeks in a row.”

“Of course. As long as we are not required to watch another one of those abominations that Roman likes to call ‘classic Disney movies.”

Virgil laughed. “I’m putting a blanket ban on any Disney movie made before 1970 from now on.”

“Perfect. Farewell.”

“See you next week, L.”

As Virgil found the most budget friendly litter, the thought that he should probably warn Roman about the cat before movie night crossed his mind. He quickly ignored it. It would funnier to drop the idea of the cat on him when he got there.

He met up with Patton at the checkout line. As he eyed Patton’s basket, he was relieved that he had been payed recently. He considered asking Patton to maybe give up a couple of the toys, but he just didn’t have it in him.

It wasn’t until Patton pulled out his debit card that Virgil realized why he had gotten that many items.

“Pat, no.” He started, but was quickly shushed.

“I’m not going to ask you to pay for this much. Look, the newest freelance job just finished, and now I have a little bit of money to burn. Don't fight me on this.”

They finished and started their trek back to the apartment. “Hey, have you told Roman about her yet?” Virgil asked.

“No, what are you planning?” Patton said, squinting, his usual face of suspicion.

“Nothing!” Patton knew him too well. “Just don’t tell him until movie night. I wanna surprise him.”

They arrived at the apartment and set their haul down on the kitchen table. Virgil's arms ached, and he could see that Patton was rubbing his shoulders, grimacing. Virgil set the carrier down, letting Midnight loose to sprint around the apartment again.

He picked a bag and started pulling things out of it, looking through all the toys Patton had bought.

"We need to get her a tag." Patton said, joining him in going through the stuff. "Oh! You should have a photoshoot with her. Get all your fancy photography stuff out."

Virgil shrugged. "I don't usually work with animal subjects."

"I mean, it's our child! It's gotta be different." Virgil blushed slightly at the suggestion that they were co-parenting. "And you could post it on your Instagram!"

Virgil had an Instagram that he posted some of his photos on. It had a couple hundred followers, and brought in the very few commissions he had done so far, but recently he had been pretty bad at keeping up with it.

"That's certainly an idea. Did you get two of the same toy?" Virgil held up two nearly identical feather wands.

Patton grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. I couldn't decide which color to get."

Virgil smiled back. "Dibs on the black one."

Patton pulled something else out of the bags. "This is a puzzle toy. You put a treat in this." He pointed at a tiny box in the middle of the toy, "and she has to solve a small puzzle to get it."

Virgil inspected the toy. "Are you sure we should be teaching her how to solve puzzles?"

"Why not?"

"She seems like she's gonna grow into a little shit. I don't think we're equipped for a cat who's both a little shit and intelligent."

"Do you really think-ow!" Patton jumped and grabbed his ankle. "She scratched me!" He yelled. Virgil hadn't even noticed that she was back in the room.

"Oh jeez. Are you bleeding?"

Patton flopped down on a chair. "I can't believe! Betrayed by my own child!"

"You've been spending too much time with Roman. Can you go get a band-aid, or are you too injured to walk?" Virgil teased. "I'll set the scratching post up so she'll stop using you as one."

He carried the scratching post into the living room, setting it up under a window. Midnight came running to the post as soon as it was ready. Virgil crouched down and looked her in the eye. "I know you're energetic and you probably never had a healthy way to express it, but we've got all these toys for you for a reason. I love you, but hurting Patton is where I draw the line." He dropped his voice down to a whisper. "Cause I love him more." She meowed in response. Virgil was satisfied that she had gotten the message.

Patton announced his presence by walking into the living room and immediately banging his elbow against the doorframe. Virgil looked back at him. "Jesus Pat, I think we need to do less cat proofing and more Patton proofing."

"The world needs to be me proof. Do I need to reprimand her or did you?"

"I think she understands. Do you want to help me with taking a couple photos of her?"

Patton's eyes lit up, causing Virgil's heart to jump. He had wanted to help Virgil with his photography since it was revealed that he did it, but Virgil had a hard time working with other people, so he hadn't accepted the offer yet. "Get the collar on her and take her to my room. I'll start setting up."

Virgil went into his room and grabbed his photography box from his closet. The box contained two white sheets, one for pinning on the wall and one for laying on the ground, his portable lights, and his tripod. The camera was kept on his desk, he spent an entire paycheck on it once, he wasnt about to put it somewhere it could get broken.

Patton came in while he was rummaging around the box. "Shut the door so we can keep her contained, and come help me pin this sheet."

"Ok! I brought one of the feather wands just in case."

"Good idea. Now get your tall ass over here and pin the top of it. I have it marked where the pins need to go."

"How do you do this by yourself?" The marks were made at 6 foot, and Virgil, in all his 5'3" glory, definitely wasn't tall enough to reach it without help.

He shrugged. "chair."

"Are you talking about your desk chair? Virge that could get you hurt!"

"Yeah, I have enough bruised forearms and knees to prove that."

Patton's face set in determination. "Well, now you have me to help you. You'll never have to worry about injuring yourself for your job again as long as I'm here!"

"Thanks, but it's not my job, Patton, it's a hobby.*

"It'll be a job one day, I'm sure. I mean, you have a gift!" Patton hit the space bar of Virgil's laptop in a flourish, revealing the background that Virgil had set. It was from the one wedding he had done, a photo from the reception. The two brides were doing the first dance, one of them looking at the other like she was the entire world. It was a beautiful moment that had Virgil tearing up from behind the camera.

"That photo, and that's just one example, is perfect!"

Virgil blushed at the praise. He quickly cleared his throat and set his mind back to the task at hand. He was about to melt and wasn't sure what he'd do if Patton kept spilling compliments from his lips. Probably kiss him. And that was a bad idea. A horrible idea. Terrible no good brain giving him all these idiot very bad ideas.

He turned his attention to setting up the lights, plugging them in and adjusting them. Next, the camera. Patton was stretching his arms up to reach the marks, shirt lifting up to show a tiny strip of skin. Virgil ducked his head down and continued fiddling with the tripod, face as red as a cherry.

Finally, the only thing he had left to do was get the subject ready. Who was currently attacking his comforter. This was going to be a mess. He sent Patton into the kitchen to get treats.

"What kind? We didn't buy her specific cat treats?"

"I don't know. Some lunch meat or something. Just go." Then he turned to the cat. "Alright. Now, this may be a hard thing for you, but I'm going to need you to behave." Midnight yowled at him in response. "Point taken. Just don't fuck up my equipment and we'll try to get through this." He finished the lecture by picking her up and plopping her on the sheet. She immediately attempted to scramble off of it, but was intercepted by Virgil.

Patton came in then, carrying a few pieces of ham on a paper plate. Virgil sighed. "Great. You're back. Can you tear a couple pieces of that and put it on the sheet? She won't stay on it long enough for me to take a photo.

They proceeded to fill Virgil's SD card with tons and tons of photos. Midnight playing with the feathers, Midnight flopped on the ground, Midnight mid leap, every single pose a cat could do, there was a photo of Midnight doing it. About 45 minutes into the photoshoot, Virgil fiddled with the tripod, raising it up to human level. He then gestured to Patton. "Get on there."

Patton looked shocked. "Me? But I'm not camera ready."

"Shut up, you're always camera ready. I want to get a couple of photos of her with her pa, obviously. That took another 30 minutes, and left Virgil wore out. It was a decently short shoot session, compared to some jobs he's done, but Midnight was undoubtedly one of his worst clients, so he was exhausted.

Patton started taking down the set as Virgil plugged the card into his computer and starting looking at the photos. He stopped at one. In the photo, Midnight was curled up in Patton's arms, obviously content, and Patton had the softest look on his face, he wasn't looking directly at the camera, he was looking just above it, but other than that, it was one of the best photos he had ever taken.

"Oh wow." Patton sighed out behind him, causing Virgil to jump. "That's beautiful. You did a really good job."

"Uh, thanks. But you know, it was pretty easy when I had the two best clients in the world."

They ordered pizza and munched on it as the two of them went through the photos, choosing the best ones. Then they put on a dumb Netflix movie, ignoring it in favor of laughing at Midnight's antics.

As Virgil passed by Patton's room at about 2 in the morning, he saw Patton asleep, his curls the only thing visible above his quilt, Midnight curled up on top of him, purring in her sleep. The annoyed thought of "of course she wouldn't use the bed we bought specifically for her" crossed his mind, quickly shot down in favor of him just admiring the sight. He stood there for too long, staring, only snapping out of his trance when Midnight stretched out, letting at the smallest mew he had ever heard. He fell asleep that night the most content he had been in years.

(Taglist, ask to be added or removed)

@whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @kosmicsides @ananonsplace @thatgaydemigodnerd @serenitythepanther

[sculptorofbeginningslibrary]

Black Eyes & Bloodlust - Chapter 11

THIS IS A RE-POST SINCE THIS CHAPTER WAS POSTED RIGHT BEFORE THE PURGE. THIS STORY AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE POSTED FROM HERE AND REBLOGGED (POSSIBLY POINTLESSLY) TO MY MAIN BLOG UNTIL TUMBLR UN-BLURRIES ME.

My Masterlist

Black Eyes & Bloodlust Masterlist

Summary: Dean has never met his Omega, never even thought there could be one waiting for him–but she’s out there, and they’re connected in ways they could never have imagined.

Characters: DeanxReader, Sam, Cas, a few OC’s

Warnings: SMUT so typical A/B/O warnings, Slow burn (and I mean it. SLOW BURN GUYS.) Language, depictions of mental illness, Gore and Violence. (Warnings will apply to all chapters just to cover all the bases.)

Word Count: ~ 3800

A/N: Pretty Dean-centric chapter :)

Beta’d by @justcallmeasmodeus

AS ALWAYS,

ENJOY!

__~*~__

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about how you liking serial killers is weird?”

Sam rolled his eyes as he fixed his tie in the motel mirror. “I don’t like serial killers, Dean. I just…like studying them. It’s an interesting statistical anomaly that–”

“Woah there, Einstein. You start talking statistics and I’m gonna take a nap.” Dean snagged Baby’s keys from the table and looked over at Sam. “I’ll be in the car when you’re finished primping.”

“I’m not–” Sam started, but the door slammed shut, cutting him off yet again. He rolled his eyes good naturedly, just glad that Dean seemed to be in better spirits knowing that Cas was actively searching for Y/N.

They still hadn’t told Dean what Cas knew, but he seemed to appreciate their new-found enthusiasm enough to agree to check out the Omega serial killer Sam had been following in Colorado. Dean had insisted it ‘wasn’t their kind of thing,’ because monsters didn’t take their time to mutilate their victims only to steal their eyelids before moving on–that was crazy human shit–but after a few days of nagging, he gave in.

Which led to now, with both Winchesters headed up to the police station to interview the sister of a missing Omega. The missing girl fit the victim profile, but normally a body would have been found by now.

Dean was sure it was unrelated, but the sheriffs were insistent that since she was an unmated Omega, they had to treat her case as if it were related to the others.

Sam dropped into the passenger seat of the Impala just as Dean started her up. The comforting purr of Baby’s engine always lulled Dean into a sense of peace he couldn’t find anywhere, especially now that the Mark was assaulting him with new and improved spats of unrest that tested his control in new ways.

“Alright so what are we lookin’ at, Sammy?” Sam pulled up his laptop and went through the case file again.

“Well, uh, the sister’s name is Lane, and Y/N has been missing for almost a week. They found her apartment all torn up. Lane is staying in town even though she lives two hours away so she’s agreed to come in and talk to us.”

“Y/N?” Dean asked, his gut twisting at the name. Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“Yeah,” Sam replied softly, “Dean it’s probably not–”

“Yeah I know.” Dean brushed off what he knew Sam was going to say. It probably wasn’t his Y/N. That would be too much of a coincidence, even for their crazy life. “So what else?”

__~*~__

Tex had arranged to meet the witch somewhere on the Colorado Wyoming border, and you drove non-stop to get there. You had been in contact with her through Tex’s phone, and she seemed eager to meet you despite the weirdness of your request.

After assuring her that Tex had kept you safe and given you his phone as proof that he had sent you, she texted you an address.

Another handful of suppressants and Benadryl didn’t help the swelling in your arm or the cramps occasionally rolling through your body, but you chalked it up to lack of sleep. You hadn’t gotten one wink in since killing Tex, nor had you wanted to.

There was a pull guiding you to where you needed to go, and it wouldn’t let you rest until it was satisfied. Like some kind of psychic GPS it was leading you straight to Rowena, as she’d said her name was. The strong feeling made you wonder absently if she really was a witch. If magic was real and this whole time you’d been living in a sweet bubble of normal life not knowing that the supernatural existed, what would that mean for your life? How had it found you  after twenty-odd years of boring normalcy? It all seemed too ridiculous, but then again you were certified crazy and officially a murderer but couldn’t bring yourself to care, what did you know?

Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel in time with the soft rock playing on your stereo, not a care in the world despite the growing pile of problems and  the blistered wound on your arm. You had a good feeling about this woman.

She had the answers you needed. You didn’t know, like everything these days, how or why you knew that, and the part of you that cared was slowly being replaced by the beast that had been shredding away all sense of who you were.

__~*~__

When Sam and Dean arrived at the station there was a small group of people waiting for them.

Three officers and two doctors were crowded around a crying woman Sam could only guess was Lane. The closer they got to the group, the stiffer Dean’s body went. Sam scented the air, but nothing seemed amiss despite the stomach churning mix of smells that accompanied places like this.

“Hello,” Sam said as the group glanced up, finally noticing their presence. The male doctor looked visibly uncomfortable as the Winchesters stepped close enough for their scent to carry. The female doctor, however, looked ravenous. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who was glaring openly, and without reason, at the male doctor. “We’re Agents Allman and Betts,” they flashed their badges before stuffing them back into their jackets, “We’re looking for an Officer Bishop?”

A sturdy looking officer stepped forward, removing his arm from around the crying woman. “That’s me.” He reached his hand out and Sam shook it, Dean seemed lost in his own world and missed the hand offered to him, looking as though he was trying to solve a particularly aggravating puzzle. Sam cleared his throat and Dean shook himself out of it, glancing suspiciously around the group.

“Are you Lane?” He managed to ask gently towards the only obvious civilian. She nodded, appearing to collect herself and step forward.

“Yes. T-Thank you for coming.”

“It’s not a problem Ma’am, we’re here to help.” Sam tried to smile reassuringly, and started to speak but he was cut off by the female doctor.

“Is there a reason the FBI stepped into this? Is it because you’ve read Y/N’s file? Because I didn’t authorize—”

“Woah woah woah,” Dean said quickly, shutting down her rant. “You mind telling us who you are? Actually, I’m gonna need each of you to provide identification before we discuss any specifics of the case.”

“And…” Sam glanced around, noticing the rising interest in their gathering. “We’re going to need somewhere more private. I think Lane here has had enough being ogled for one day.”

Bishop hopped into action, ushering everyone towards a back room with two couches. Sam let Dean, Bishop and Lane enter before stopping the two doctors and other three officers from going any further. He shut the door, separating the two groups. The officers took the hint and left, leaving only the doctors.

“Excuse me what do you think you’re doing?” the male doctor demanded.

“I need IDs. From both of you.”

“My name is Doctor Mara, and this is my colleague Doctor Cameron,” offered the female with a sultry smile. She produced her ID and piqued an eyebrow at the man beside her until he did the same. “I was the head of Y/N’s medical team while she was in our facility.”

“Your facility?”

“Yes, a psychiatric facility. With Y/N being a missing person of questionable mental integrity Lane called us in, hoping we could provide some help. I’m afraid, however, that a warrant will be necessary for you to access her files.”

She smelled like too-strong cinnamon as she stepped into Sam’s space. It was a seemingly innocent movement, but Sam knew she was trying to bully their way into the room behind him. Doctor Mara seemed like the kind of woman who was used to getting her way.

“Well Doctor, the warrant isn’t necessary in an active missing persons case because of relevant information that might lead to the victim’s whereabouts. I’m guessing you have the file on you or you wouldn’t have brought it up, so how about we cut the crap and you tell me what’s going on here? Since when do contracted psychiatrists make house calls to family members?”

“Y/N is a special case,” Doctor Cameron spat. He had decided he didn’t like the FBI Agents the second he scented them. The way they carried themselves and the way the shorter one smelled rankled him. He reeked of gunpowder and old leather–a combination that had been intolerable since Y/N had almost killed him.

Their attitudes didn’t help. Like all Federal Agents they thought they owned every piece of ground they walked on, he could see it plain as day.

“A special case?” Sam asked, waiting patiently and making it obvious they wouldn’t be going any further until they told him something worth knowing.

__~*~__

“Knowledge? Dearie, I know everything worth knowing.” The red-headed woman with the thick Scottish accent was beautiful as she sipped her wine, looking other-worldly. You felt mildly self conscious sat at the same table, but mostly you were curious about her.

How did someone so gorgeous know someone like Tex?

“Then you can help me find them?”

Rowena grimaced. Perpetually, the fucking Winchesters were a pain in her ass. Even hundreds of miles away she couldn’t escape them.

“Why d’you want the Winchesters? I can teach you everything you need to know. I can feel the magic wafting off of you, dear. You shouldn’t want them for anything. What is it? A spell?” Her eyebrow arched perfectly as you stared blankly at her, unsure of what to say. “For your heat, dearie. Doesn’t take a witch to smell that too.”

“You can do that? Take it away?” You voice lowered excitedly as you surveyed the room suspiciously, missing her comment about your magic.

“Of course! Didn’t Tex tell you who I am?” She seemed slightly offended, but you shrugged.

“No…I mean, nothing other than you being the most powerful witch he’d ever met.” He hadn’t said that, but you had a feeling it was something she liked hearing.

“Well,” she gushed, feigning bashfulness, “he wasn’t lying there. I can do just about anything you need.” Rowena contemplated you for a moment before reaching some kind of decision. “Give me your hand.” She held hers out across the table, smiling encouragingly for you to do the same.

When you slid your arms across, your sleeve rolled up, revealing the rash on your arm. You didn’t miss the widening of her eyes as she spotted it, and you quickly covered it back up.

“No no no, love. Let me see.” Rowena caught your arm, her delicate fingers clasping you with a strength her petite frame hid well. You hissed when the fabric brushed against the raw flesh as she gently rolled your sleeve up. “Oh my,” she mused, taking in the oddly shaped blister on your arm.

It was raw and red, seeping where spots had popped. There were tinges of black beginning to vein out around the edges which usually meant infection…but you were sure that wasn’t the case here.

You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she examined you. The warmth of her touch was soothing and discomforting at once.

Rowena knew more about you than you could ever imagined. She had divined your purpose right after talking to you for the first time and now, after touching you and the vicious curse on your arm, she understood your predicament fully.

Dean Winchester’s Omega had the Mark of Cain, just like her Alpha. It was an interesting development, one that Rowena knew she should be working in her favor, but she found herself feeling bad for you. She could see the black ooze overtaking your aura, smell the curse on you as surely as she could smell your heat, even with her Beta nose.

The power emanating from you had her wondering just how someone could acquire a curse in the way you had. Your personality was hidden under layers of desperation she didn’t think even you could see any longer, but she could tell you were an innocent buried under the blanket of evil the Mark had thrown over you.

She wanted to help, but as of yet the Winchesters were her enemies, and no matter how much she liked you, pride wouldn’t let her. Better to let the pains in her ass have a pain of their own.

“What?” You asked, suddenly worried as something flickered in her eyes. It was the first real emotion you’d felt since leaving Tex.

“Oh it’s nothing. Just…” her well manicured nails ghosted across your palm and she closed her eyes, feeling the magic there. “I can feel him. Your mate.”

You snatched your hand back, astounded. Maybe she really was magic after all.

“How do you know about Dean?” You hissed. Her smile was patient.

“Your body told me. And the magic. He is the source of it.” Her smile formed into something more sinister as she continued, taking in your shock. “He’s there you know. I saw him when I touched your mark. He’s at your home, standing in your living room as we speak.”

__~*~__

Dean stared at the file, fighting the urge to vomit. Sam had strong-armed the doctors into giving up Y/N’s file while Dean had interviewed Lane. She hadn’t been able to offer much besides Y/N suffering from nightmares, being committed, and the strange turn of her personality. None of it seemed relevant to the serial killer, but his gut was telling him something he couldn’t understand.

The file was thicker than any patient file either brother had ever seen, and contained more than just the pictures Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from. It was a record of everything Y/N had said while interred, every procedure and every move she’d made, but Dean hadn’t made it past the pictures.

It was her.

She looked like shit in the first one, dark bags under her eyes, hair ratty and unkempt, her body swallowed up by an unflattering patient’s uniform. In the other she was smiling wide for the camera, lit up eyes sparkling out at him under perfectly styled hair. His finger traced longingly down the center of her happy face, wondering if being connected to him had done this to her.

“Dean? What’s going on?” Sam closed the door, leaving Officer Bishop to lead Lane to his car for the trip back to her hotel. Sam didn’t like the look on Dean’s face, at all.

“Sammy…” Dean started, his voice cracking as he laid the folder flat so they both could see. “It’s her…It’s…this is her.”

New panic was taking him over as he realized how close they had been, and now she was ripped from his grasp. “God Sammy, what if she’s…” he broke off, voice cracking and unable to form the words.

Sam wanted to object, but the pure emotion and certainty on Dean’s face stopped him.

Looked like his hunter senses had been more on point then expected.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Dean removed the pictures and handed Sam the file. There was one photo remaining Dean hadn’t seen, and Sam slipped it to the back of the pile before he could dwell too long on it.

The last thing he needed was to analyze the familiar looking rash.

The most recent files were on the top, and it only took three pages for Sam’s stomach to finish dropping to his feet. He swallowed thickly as he read the lines she had babbled while unconscious.

They were transcripts of Y/N’s last, and apparently most intense, episode. Behind those were the transcripts of her hypnosis session with…Doctor Cameron.

Sam’s head snapped towards the door, eyes narrowing as he tried to put all the pieces together. When he looked back at Dean, his brother hadn’t moved, still entranced in the glassy eyes staring up at him from the lifeless photo paper.

Turns out it was their kind of thing after all, and it was time to call Castiel.

__

Dean had Y/N’s picture safely tucked into his jacket the minute Castiel had convinced him to move from his stupor. Cops had watched warily as the terrifying Agent stomped his way through the precinct and slammed his way out the door, Castiel in tow. Sam had waved apologetically, hoping they wouldn’t attract too much more attention.

The ride was awkwardly silent.

Castiel revealed Y/N’s prayers and the life he thought she’d taken once they’d gotten into the car and Dean hadn’t said a word since. Dean’s pounding heart practically filled the empty space as he raced to the address they’d been given. Sam’s stomach felt like it had pushed up into his chest as Dean took a few rough corners, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Dean…”

“Shut up Cas.” Dean’s tone was shaky, but firm. No words would suffice now that he knew the truth of what Castiel had seen.

Dean was furious at both of them for so many reasons. A week. She’d been missing for a week. If they hadn’t searched so hard for Cain they might have found her before this.

As if sensing Dean’s thoughts, Sam’s were running along the same line. His guilt was compounding with every word he read from Y/N’s file. He turned another page.

From the looks of it, she’d been suffering a breakdown since Dean had taken on the Mark.

In the silence, all they could do was think. All they could do was ponder their mistakes and every sign they’d ignored.

Every time they’d brushed Dean off in favor of curing the Mark. They’d told themselves it was for Dean. It was for the greater good.

As Sam handed Cas the file, open to the pages where she had directly quoted Dean while he was being cured, he knew it was a lie.

__

Dean was tapping her song onto the steering wheel as he glared at Y/N’s apartment building. Sam had cleared his throat twice, but nothing was pulling Dean out of the car until he was ready.

Castiel had a habit of not realizing awkward situations, but this one was unavoidable. He knew finding Cain had been the right thing, but it didn’t feel like it at the moment. He exchanged a loaded glance with Sam in the rearview mirror that felt endless, their shared guilt simultaneously connecting them and separating them from Dean.

Then the driver door was flung open and Dean was gone. He was on the landing by the time Sam and Castiel entered the building, his head dropped against the door and eyes tightly closed as he inhaled the scent of death seeping thick though it.

Sam and Castiel smelled it too, and wondered what the police could have missed that was causing it. Dean’s hand hovered over the doorknob before he shoved it open, taking the crime scene tape with him when he stepped inside.

The smell of her was faint, it was obvious she hadn’t been there in a while, but it still smelled just like he expected–minus the rotting flesh somewhere in the apartment. His experienced eyes searched everything from the blood stains under his feet to the vomit stains by the couch.

The room was a disaster unlike anything he’d seen, but some part of him knew there hadn’t been a struggle. She’d done this herself.

His connection to her was singeing his arm, digging in and giving him flashes of emotion that came and went, flitting about like a hummingbird in search of nectar. His eyes followed the line of destruction until they found the room he was searching for. The one that contained her scent stronger than any other.

His feet were moving before he told them to, carrying him into what he discovered was her bedroom. Castiel and Sam hovered in the entryway surveying the damage as Dean had, but not seeing the pattern Dean had followed. Dean had no care for them as he stood just inside her door with his eyes closed, letting his nose and the Mark lead the way. He could hear them moving around despite the carpet muffling their steps.

“Get out!” He yelled suddenly. The feel of them inside her space was too much combined with the scent of Y/N, death, and the dozens of people that had traipsed through collecting evidence. Dean heard them stop then shuffle out the door. He waited until he heard the click before he really started searching.

The idiot officers couldn’t have used their noses because the scent of rot was strongest here. The knot headed alphas probably only scented her panty drawer, while the Betas probably hadn’t smelled anything besides the rotting flesh somewhere in the apartment.

Everyone was operating on the assumption that her body was hidden somewhere inside the apartment from the smell, but Dean’s instincts were telling him different. There was something dead, but it wasn’t his Omega.

The song playing in his head was evidence enough of that, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t been taken. Maybe the man she’d killed was the one who’d taken her…maybe she was on her way home.

Dean didn’t need to open any drawers considering they were all on the floor already. All but one.

His Alpha raged at seeing her panty drawer placed on the bed, two familiar Alpha scents lingering around it. They’d been at the police station.

There was only red as he grabbed the wooden drawer and slammed it into the wall. His chest heaved with the effort as he tried to control himself, forcing himself to remember that they hadn’t actually touched her. That crime was reserved for someone else. Someone who was possibly dead, and if they weren’t…they would be.

The Mark amplified his anger, but he was dealing with it better than anyone else would have. He caught a whiff of the death through the disturbed air and followed it to where the drawer had shattered against the wall.

Almost absently he grabbed a pair of her panties, barely a scrap of fabric, and tucked it into his pocket before moving the broken pieces of wood. Underneath, a small pile of books had been tossed just as carelessly as everything else around him.

“Sam!” He called, knowing they would come.

Everything in him knew what he was about to find, but he couldn’t believe it until he pulled the Bible from the bottom of the pile.

Dean almost gagged as his hand touched it, violent visions of sticking knives into innocent Omegas assaulting him.

“Dean?” Sam called from the doorway, knowing better than to step inside. His nose rankled as Dean crossed the room with the Holy book in hand. Castiel arrived just as Dean opened it to pages that were bulging the book out at the center.

The three men stared, disbelieving, at the Bible in Dean’s hands.

Castiel covered his mouth as realization set in, his eyes taking in the multitude of emotion the brothers were expressing.

Pressed between the pages, rotting, slick and wet, staining the pages black, were eight sets of dismembered eyelids.

__~*~__

Questions? Comments? Incoherent screaming?

Bring it on!

🖤

__~*~__

Story Tags:

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Dean Tags:

@adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @bobasheebaby @paranoiadestroyah

[theabominableblogger]

My Reaction to “Gotham” S5E5

*still reeling*  ....OK.... hold on....

AN:  I managed to record my reactions to this episode and hopefully I can transcribe what I said into this post.

*Recap shows Ed blowing up Haven in the flashback*  So why did Ed blow up Haven?

Crap, and Jim’s gonna find out.  WhooooOOOOO....

Whoa....

*has to tilt head to side to figure out what film is playing*

AN:  It’s a 1953 noir film called “Tangier Incident”

“You gonna arrest me?”  “Who said anything about arresting you?”  *raises eyebrows in surprise*

“Whaddya say, boys?”  Uhhhh...

OK, what is it with churches this season?

Take him down, Jim.

“Now, who told you I sold that RPG?”  A friend.

*gasps when a military squad rappels through the stain glass on the ceiling*

Whoa whoa wait what?

Oh I like that camera shot [when Jim took down the arms dealer]

*gasps when the arms dealer gets shot in the head*

Ohhhh is this-

*Eduardo walks up and pulls down his mask*  Yooo!

“Last time I saw you, you were running through sniper fire plucking my sorry ass from a burning truck.”  *chuckles*

I am very interested to see how Shane West is gonna pull off Bane.

*silently jams out to opening theme*

Oh, I like this slow version.

“We hated each other in boot.  Jim disapproved of my ops tempo.”  “Yeah, ‘cause you only had one speed:  too fast.”  *chuckles*

Ahhh Harvey’s being the third wheel!

“We’re here to eliminate all criminal threats.”  *starts chuckling*  Eduardo’s rolling his eyes.  He’s like ‘I can’t believe I’m here either.’

*lets out small gasp when Jim finds Ed’s name in the arms dealer’s ledger*

“What you [Harvey] are is the best cop that I know.  I’m goin’ after Nygma; he’s ten steps ahead.  If anything goes sideways, you’ll have to take over.  I need your help, buddy.”  VINDICATIOOONNNN!!

*trying to read the name of the episode writer*  Who wrote this?  Id- what?

“You saw what she did to Jeremiah.”  Did you though?

“Jeremiah Valeska deserved to die.”  *smirking because we all know he’s still alive*

“Jeremiah made Selina a murderer.  Just like Ra’s made me a murderer.”  “Ra’s goaded you into stabbing him, Master Bruce.  He used you as an instrument; you’re no murderer.”  *jaw drops* 

*sits back in seat*  Holy shit, that parallel!

“And I’m gonna go find her.”  Oh, I’m betting Selina’s not gonna be happy to see you.

*fans self*  This episode’s gonna break me.

*Ed listens to his past recordings*  A swamp?

“YOU’RE NOT A MURDERER, ED.”  Wow, I love Jim Carrey in “Batman Forever”

*gasps when Ed breaks the mirror by punching it*

*chuckling*  How did they find him so fast?!?

“No, Jim, I can explain!”  *nods*

“I can prove it!  I just- I need- I need a little bit of time.”  No, no, take him in now.  Take him in.

“The people I have hurt... they hurt me first.  I didn’t know a single person in Haven!”  What the hell kind of excuse is that?

“Your call, buddy.”  Don’t shoot him.  Just take him in.

“We bring him in.  He stands trial.”  There we go.

*The floor panel under Eduardo sinks down*  Oh my God, they put a bomb in the floor.

“Your friend is standing on a pressure-plated IED.  One of several throughout the rooms.”  Of course he found time- when did he find time to rig the room?

*laughs*  That little eyebrow [raise of Eduardo’s]- like “Really?!?”

“Once word gets out that you’re responsible for Haven, they’ll have a target on your back.”  “I’ll take my chances.”  Really?

“A wristband that monitors his heart rate?”  “Welcome to Gotham.”  *laughs*

“Puzzle?”  “There’s always a puzzle with Nygma.”  Yes, there is.

*Jim climbs over to the bookshelf on the tables and chairs*  The floor is lava!

Actually Jim and Eduardo work really well together.  I like that.

*sighs in relief when Jim manages to get to the bookshelf*

*still laughing*  How do you get rid of a bomb?  Easy.  The floor is lava!

“I’m gonna wring this nerd’s [Ed’s] neck.”  *laughs*  SAME!

*Jim pulls out one of the books*  ...Did he stop it?

*Jim steps down without being blown up*  YEAH!  There we go!

“You OK?”  “You left the army for this city?”  *giggles*

“It grows on you.”  *still giggling*

What is this?

“Everybody, raise your glasses to the killer of Jeremiah Valeska.”  *shaking head while smiling*  No... mmm no...

“Bring his head!  Bring his head!”  Ohhh...

Also, where the heck is Jeremiah?

*chuckles at Ed being described as a “tall, skinny man”*

...That’s not much of a description to go on.

*very confused at a group of people rallying together to kill Ed*

I miss Mr. Penn

“Edward Nygma is the monster respon-”  *gasps*

“-responsible for killing the innocents of Haven.”  *covers mouth with hands*

“...Ed, what have you done?”  *leans back in seat*  Ohhh my God.  Oh Oswald, are you gonna break my heart this episode?

I can’t believe Ed is stuck within a redneck community.

So who sent Eduardo and his team?  The government, right?

“Taking him down?  That’d be a big win.”  “Well, that’s why we’re here.” Oh my God, are they gonna take down Scarecrow?

*Ed tied to a lawn chair covered in electrical wire*  What the....

Also, Ed, I want your boots.  Also, why is a guy wearing anklet boots?

What??

What??  What am I watching?

What??

Are they gonna electrocute him?  What??

*The redneck family electrocutes Ed*  Well “Honey Boo Boo” looks terrible.

“Pay for JoJo!”  JoJo?

*The mother shows Ed a sepia picture of JoJo*  A dog?  What?!?  This about a dog?

AN:  Also the actress who plays the mother here was in the Adam West Batman show.

“300 people died in Haven!”  “Pfft, we don’t care about people.”  *jaw drops open in shock*

WHA-WHA- WHAT AM I WATCHING??

“He... always had a smile on his face.”  You’re talking about a dog.

“You anthropomorphizing nincompoop!”  Wha- *starts giggling*

“Dogs can’t smile!”  *leans back in seat to laugh* 

[Ed’s] Gotta whip out that thesaurus!

*Ed starts remembering Oswald*  Oh my God!

“I’m going to fix you, Ed!”  *starts singing “Fix You” by Coldplay*

*gasps when Ed gets electrocuted with a full charge*

“I’m gong to fix you, Ed.”  Please go find Oswald!

“Oh thank God the fuel line’s clogged.”  *leans back to laugh and slaps table in hilarity*

*The mother makes her sons “fix” the fuel line*  Oh my God, is that gonna send the charge back?  Oh my God, he’s gonna burn these suckas alive.

*gasps when the car used to electrocute Ed bursts into flames*

Please tell me Ed’s gonna like take off on down the street with the chair still attached-

*Ed does exactly that*  YES, LET’S GO!

*imitates the way Oswald says “feelers” sarcastically*

“I am surrounded by morons, Edward.”  Aaawww...

Did he really just come in through the grate?

“But first, did you name your dog after me?”  YES BITCH HE DID

Oswald’s like “I’m not answering that question.”

“Cobblepot’s on the top of my list from Walker.”  Walker?  Wait, Walker sent them?  The secretary lady?  Are we ever gonna meet her?

AN:  Yes, in the next episode.

“Shock and awe’s my default.”  *raises fist in small fist pump*

Poor Harvey’s the third wheel on this.

“You know what, take Harvey with you.”  YEAHH!

“Man, you’re killing my buzz.”  Is Selina drunk?

Yes, she is.  How old are these kids?

“Let me [Selina] tell you [Bruce] something.  That night, that your parents were murdered?”  Nooo!

“I was in that alley, on that fire escape.”  This is such a low blow.

*trying not to be sad over Selina bringing Bruce down*

“You... were the scared kid.”  *sits back in seat*  Oh my God... shut up, Selina!

I’m very disappointed right now.

“I love this song...”  *shakes head in disapproval*

*Selina and Bruce start crying*  Oh God, you’re making me... *fans near eyes* 

Whoa, that was just the most sudden cut [back to Ed and Oswald]!

“How could you?  You have made into some murderous puppet!”  *shakes head*  No, I don’t think Oswald’s behind that!

“For weeks, I've been waking up in strange places, not knowing how I got there or what I did.  Driving myself mad, thinking I had gone mad.  And now I know that it was all your doing!”  No it wasn’t!

*claps hands toward screen*  NooOOO... LISTEN!

“Of everything that you have put me through, this... this is the most cruel.”  *puts hand on chest and shakes head*  Oh my God...

Nooo...

“Ed, I [Oswald] don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He didn’t have anything to do with it!

“You didn’t fix me!  You broke me!”  *puts hands in front of mouth in panic*

“You [Ed] had been stabbed, I [Oswald] paid Hugo Strange to save your life.  I bet he did something to you when he was patching you up.”  *flailing hands around*  OK, ask about Lee!  WHERE’S LEE?!?

“What was I supposed to do?  Let you die?”  *crosses hands over chest and leans back in chair*

“After Butch, you were my only friend.”  *voice squeaky*  Oh my God!

*Holds up finger toward screen*  You [Oswald] are not gonna make me cry!

Whyyy do I recognize this music?

AN:  It’s the track called “Penguin in Love” from S3

He [Oswald] walked into the gun [that Ed was pointing at him]!

Can you two just please have a drink and just make up please?  Thank you.

“I [Ed] might have killed you, Oswald.  And if that day comes, I swear to you I will stare you in the eye as I stab you in the heart.”  *slowly nods*  Glad to know we’re back on schedule.

*slams fist down on table like a gavel*

“If Hugo Strange did something to you [Ed], it means you are not responsible for Haven.”  So what did Hugo Strange do?

*gasps when the roof shudders over Oswald and Ed*

*Ed disappears*  Of course Ed runs!  Jesus... Christ!

“Idiot!”  *giggles*  His little hop [when Oswald slapped one of his men on the shoulder in anger]!

Whoaaaa that’s a cool shot [of one of Eduardo’s men throwing a smoke bomb in the foyer]

Ohhhhhhhh that shot’s cool [of Oswald in the smoke]!

“Why hello, Harvey!”  *in same tone of voice*  Hiiiii!!!

“I hope you’re better prepared.”  Uh, he [Harvey] has the military with him.

“Or, if you [Harvey] and your friends aren’t out by the time I count to three, I will mow you all DOWN!”  Robin Lord Taylor is just killing it in this episode.  Oh my gosh...

Also, Cory Michael Smith with that [confrontation with Oswald].  That scene was so good!

“I don’t have to call anyone.  Go ahead.  Count.”  Ohhh, let’s go, Harvey!   Let’s go!

*gasps when Oswald’s men got shot down via sniper on the staircase*

“Where’s Ed Nygma?”  He doesn’t have him!

*gasps when Ed is taken to Barbara’s office*

*points at screen*  How?  How?

“There’s more going on here.”  There’s always more going on in Gotham.

“I’m saying that Strange, or somebody, can control me.  They killed those people.”  Why would Hugo Strange go after Haven then?

“Information is your lifeblood.  You help me [Ed], and I will give you the best intel you’ve ever had.”  Listen to him, please.  Barbara, listen to him.

“I don’t know where Strange is.”  Where the heck is Strange then?!?

“But I can tell you where you’ll find his Igors.”  Wait, he has his own gang called “Igors?”  Oh my God...

*gasps*  Are they torturing Oswald?

“You know, they say you can judge a man by his friends.”  “This from a man [Oswald] who has no friends.”  Wha- excuse me!  You [Jim] are his friend.

“Nygma’s a patsy.”  *cracks up*

“Jim, you want information.  I want to go home.”  Same.

“Things are changing in Gotham.”  We know.

*Eduardo opens the door to the empty interrogation room*  Oh my God, did he let him go?

He let him go.  Jiiimm...

*jaw drops open in confusion when Strange sends a cadaver down a chute*

*chuckles when Ed jumps out of a body bag to surprise Strange*

“Oh my.”  *laughs*  Yes, BD Wong, come through!  Yes!

I’m actually really glad we see Hugo Strange again

This lighting in this location is fabulous

“But I [Strange] will confess that when I was sewing up your [Ed’s] knife wound, I may tinkered a little with your grey matter.”  The frick?!?

“I put a chip in your brain.”  :O

“It allows you to be able to be controlled remotely.”  *shoves away table with screen on it*  What the [expletive]?!?

“But I don’t control you.  I gave control to others.”  Who’s controlling Ed?

“I [Strange] will write it down.  That way, if I’m ever confronted, I can honestly say that I never told you [Ed].”  That’s actually a pretty good way to go around it.

*Strange knocks out Ed*  :O

“Not to worry.  You’re experiencing a simple neural cut out.”  What?

“I suppose we’re just going to have to open you [Ed] up and take a look under the hood.”  *gasps*  OH my GOD!

Holy shit!

“Are you [Bruce] sure you’re all right?”  No he’s not!

“What if we don’t make it out of this?”  *crosses hands over chest and leans back*

“Because the little things matter.  Act by act, deed by deed, it means something.  Even if no one cares.”  Oh my God, Harveyyyyy!!

We’re adding him to the Bat-Dads.  Yes!  He’s the Bat-Uncle!

*laughs when Bruce pulls a Batman on Harvey*

*gasps when Strange turns off one of his tools*

“I apologize for the discomfort.”  You better not!

*leans back and yells in disgust when the camera shows part of Ed’s exposed brain*  Did we really need to see the brain?!?

What the frick happened?!?

*gasps when Oswald is shown carrying his dog*  Oh my God!

That’s it.  That’s the best part of this episode.

Secret door...

What is- what is this place?!?

That a manhole?

*makes aawing noises at Edward in Oswald’s arms*

He’s getting him out of harm’s way!

“Edward, I believe the time has come for a change in scenery.” *still cooing over the dog*  Yeah...

Is he [Strange] stapling his [Ed’s] head [closed]?

*gasps when Jim holds Strange at gunpoint*  Shiit...

Wait, so if Ed’s like the Winter Soldier for Gotham, who’s Hydra?

“I [Strange] am a scientist.  A contract came along; I developed a tool.”  Why??

*gasps in shock when Eduardo activates Ed’s chip*

:O

“Ta ta.”  *flips off screen in shock*

“I [Eduardo] couldn’t say anything until we had the suspect in custody, but Walker wants Ed Nygma taken out now.”  *soft gasp*

“Walker was behind this?”  Wha-

“You know I hate this spook crap.”  *chuckles*

Why would the government blow up Haven?

“Walker wants you [Jim] to put a bullet in his [Ed’s] brain.”  *shakes hands at screen*  No no nonononononono!

“Call it proof of loyalty.”  Why?!?

“IT’s what she needs from you before she can move forward with final relief plans.”  What are they gonna do to Gotham?

“Look at him [Ed].  He’s a loon.  A cop killer.”  *shakes head*

Why would they destroy Haven?

“Jim, ours is not to reason why.”  He’s [Eduardo] just a lieutenant.  He doesn’t know anything.

*gasps and slaps hands on desk*  It’s like Russo in “The Punisher,” because he only took orders from Agent Orange and Orange didn’t tell him everything!  He’s a dog on a leash!

“What’s your answer?”  He’s [Eduardo] not gonna shoot Jim.

*leans back when Jim sets down his gun*  God... oh my God...

*gasps when Jim pulls a surprise attack on Eduardo*

Wait, how is Ed just frozen there?

“You [Ed] know Jim Gordon.  You know this city.  Find him and kill him.”  What?!?

*Ed yeets down the chute after Jim*  OK, that kinda took me out of the moment but what the hell am I watching?

God, that city looks terrible.

*gasps and reels back*  It’s Jeremiah!  Yes!

He’s just sleepin’, this scary, beautiful man.

What are they doing?

What?!?

“Ouch.”  *eyebrows raise*

“Stitches still sore, huh?  Never would have happened if you [Jeremiah] wore that armor I [Ecco] prepared.”  *scoffs*  Of cou-

“That bullet is making you [Ecco] sentimental.”  Glass houses?

“Give her a shake, huh?”  *jaw drops out of mixture of shock, confusion, and being grossed out when Ecco shakes her head for him*

“I told you I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once.”  *tries not to be disgusted”

“Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see.”  *ends up smiling*

AN:  What a great line.

“Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne needed to think you were dead, boss.”  “Yeah.”  Thank you, Captain Obvious-

*gasps when Jeremiah suddenly makes Ecco lean down toward him*

Where are they?  Is this still that tunnel from the Soothsayer’s lair?

*jaw drops in shock when Jeremiah and Ecco walk into the sitting room of Wayne Manor*

*slaps hands on table and leans back*  SHHHUT THE FRICK UP!

Shit, this is the music from the first trailer!

*gasps and jaw drops open in absolute horror when the surgery patients are shown to Jeremiah for the first time*

*Jeremiah laughs*  [very softly] My God...

“gasps when the camera gets in Jeremiah’s face*

“I love family reunions, don’t you?”  *just shaking out of shock*

*shoves away laptop and table at the final shot of Jeremiah*  Ahh my God!

*End title pops up*  Wait-wh-wh-wait what?  What?

*gets out of seat to take it all in when end credits roll*

*comes back after a good five seconds*  What the freak did I just watch?

*sits for a while to try to catch my breath*  Whoo...

We got to wait two weeks for another episode?  Get the frick outta here.  Oh my God...