#west jet check in

[transformersxreader]

TFONE Starscream x Femme Reader x Yandere-ish D-16/Megatron (Part 2)

/Part Two/

"Anything to report switchsky?"

(Y/n) ask turning to face the group of scout seekers that had just arrived, switchsky shakes her head

"Nothing to report commander (Y/n)."

(Y/n) smiles and laughs

"Please (Y/n) will do, get some rest."

(Y/n) pats switchsky's shoulders, walking off towards the throne area. Where she indeed found Starscream sitting in all his glory.

"Greetings my lord."

Starscream smiles a bit shaking his head,

"Anything to report from our seekers? My dear."

(Y/n) sat on left side of the arm throne, pulling up a hologram of cleared area scouted.

"According to our seekers this sector has been cleared and to the west, but I think for my

Seekers safety I'll check up on the north side myself."

Starscream grabs ahold of (Y/n) servo placing soft kisses and looking up to her.

"Always thinking of our seekers. But you know I can't let u go alone."

(Y/n) sighs hopping off the arm throne

"Fine. Fine. I'll take Boomer and Rushtrap with me okay?"

Starscream stood up from his throne, giving (Y/n) a nod of approval.

"Report back immediately once the north sector is cleared."

"Yes sir."

(Y/n) was just about to turn to leave but felt Starscream servo gently holds up her chin to meet his optics

"Be safe my dear."

(Y/n) blushes chuckling, almost tripping over her pedes.

Transforming quickly to her jet form and calling Boomer and rushtrap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"See anything mechs?"

"Nothing to report (Y/n)."

Rushtrap replies flying on her left while Boomer flew to her right side.

The three transform out of their alt mode landing on a cliff that had a great view of the landscape.

"Hmm..."

"Something the matter Bommer?"

Rushtrap ask making (Y/n) look back to the two seekers waiting for his response

"Something feels off..."

Boomers deep voice echos out till all their coms activated

"(Y/n) report back to base, some scout seekers found trespassers."

"We are a bit far but will arrive soon as possible. Let's go."

(Y/n) jumps off the cliff transforming and blasting off with a bit more speed, rushtrap and boomer transforming following behind (Y/n).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) lands at the entrance of base, noticing all the high guards were gather at the throne area. She looks back to see Rushtrap and Boomer telling them to join the others while she joins Starscream.

(Y/n) made her way through the crowd, the seekers making way for her to get to the front. Once she was in the open area she stops and sees four bots on their knees. The yellow one turns to see (Y/n) and yells out in excitement his arms shaking around.

"Hey!! Look! Look! It's (Y/n)! She's here too!"

The three other bots turn to see (Y/n), she gave them a confused look before realizing that the gray and red bot were the miners she encountered on her mission.

"D-16?"

D-16 optics widen seeing (Y/n) again he felt his spark beating rapidly, he tries to stand but a few seekers aim their weapon to him shoving him down on his knees again.

(Y/n) gave D-16 an apologetic look while making her way up the stairs standing beside Starscream.

D-16 seems to noticed that you were of importance to this so called "wanna be king"

"Do you know these bots (Y/n)?"

(Y/n) looks back to D-16 than to Starscream replying

"Just the grey and red one, they were just simple miners I've encountered during my mission to the Iacon mines."

Orion pax was glad to see a familiar face and just as he stood to say that they should work together to unite cybertron was greeted with guns pointed to him.

Starscream didn't believe in working together uniting cybertron, stating that one bot with the strength should rule/lead.

Every bot cheered at Starscream words making

(Y/n) sigh looking away, truthfully she would follow Starscream without hesitation, but wanted justice for all bots on cybertron and for sentinel to pay for his crimes. Is this really the only way?

She was quickly pull out of her thoughts when Starscream stood from his throne.

"HEY!" What are you doing?"

(Y/n) sees D-16 waking away but was block by two seekers, D-16 turns to face Starscream explaining why he wasn't going to coward away, making pity moves and pretending to be a so called king.

"I found out that sentinel is rotten today! (Y/n) was the only one to warn me about him! but I was too blind to see/hear her! And I'm going to make him pay for it!

TODAY!"

(Y/n) can feel his pain, his optics showing the pain and anger he has build up, waiting for it all to be released to the world. (Y/n) hesitantly steps forward seeing Starscream walking more and more closer to the angry miner.

"You think you could insult me?, And just walk away? No one leaves here unless I say so."

Now both Starscream and D-16 are face to face, D-16 looks down thinking to himself, making eye contact with Starscream

"Is that right?.....well how could say so? With my head in your teeth."

Without a second D-16 head bumps Starscream faceplate catching him by surprise. The whole crowd begins to cheer in excitement for the brawl.

"D!"

"Starscream!"

Both Orion and (Y/n) scream out in fear, Starscream flies up to deliver a kick to D-16, blocking it with his arms but was greeted with a blast from Starscream heel rockets.

Starscream flies straight into D-16 grabbing him by the neck, lifting him up till his back hits a piece of the broken ship. Starscream repeatedly punches D-16 on his stomach, D-16 quickly transforms his leg  kicking Starscream off.

D-16 lands on Starscream, giving him punches back onto his faceplate, Starscream encourages him to hit him harder.

Both (Y/n) and Shockwave look to each other thinking the same thought, just as they both were to step in, Soundwave lifts both his arms as to say let them continue.

(Y/n) gave Soundwave a worried look, seeing D-16 hurting her Starscream. The crowd cheers out D-16 name encouraging the bot more, grabbing Starscream by the neck cables.

Starscream voice glitches out more and more as D-16 added pressure to his hold, D-16 angry seems to have come out when he lifted his arm ready to finish Starscream off. Till a large cannon transforms out aiming at Starscream, surprising everyone.

(Y/n) optics widen feeling her spark turn cold in fear, D-16 surprised as well. Talking a good look at his creation heavy breaths steaming out of him, aims his cannon more direct to Starscream.

"No! Please don't!"

(Y/n) steps forward trying to get closer to Starscream, D-16 gave her a stern stare.

"Stop! D! He's not the enemy."

There was a long pause. The atmosphere growing thicker of suspense.

(Y/n) lets out a breath of relief when D-16 pulls away his cannon, (Y/n) quickly knees down to aid Starscream. Holding him tightly, looking up to D-16 shaking in fear.

D-16 felt his spark pulse in pain seeing (Y/n) in this state but seeing her cowering to this so called leader. He could offer you so much more. Together you and him can get back at sentinel from all the pain he has cause.

You can be his.

"BARE WITNESS! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I SHOW MERCY!"

D-16 starts to claim that they should follow him to Iacon city and take their revenge on sentinel prime at this moment, aiming his cannon up shooting out a single charge. Everyone begins to cheer out his name.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/n) voice ask softly to Starscream, his voice glitches out when he tries to reassure her.

(Y/n) places her hand up to his lips, as in a way telling him not to speak.

"Please dear, I don't want you to damage your voice more."

(Y/n) looks around seeing everyone continue to cheer for their new champion, she felt her breath hitch in fear.

D-16 was looking at her direction, his optics seemed to have a more orange color to them. (Y/n) quickly looks away, her attention is back to Starscream. A loud bang can be heard from a distance, a flash of light.

The explosion happened so fast catching everybody by surprise, (Y/n) tightly holds onto Starscream who also holds back both sliding to the floor.

(Y/n) quickly pulls Starscream up pushing him away from the open area, just before Starscream was going to say something, (Y/n) transforms into her jet form. Attacking all the tracker bots down. She tackles one down, lifting up a fellow seeker telling them to take cover. (Y/n) aims up to the sky shooting down a few trackers before she felt someone tackling her down. (Y/n) grabs ahold onto their arms but felt a sting on her neck, looking up.

"A-airachnid!"

"(Y/n)."

Just has (Y/n) was going to aim her weapon at Airachind, she felt a large pain on her side of her helm, everything going dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long, I really took my time on this one,my apologies. I really appreciate your patience

The next one will be the final part, and I'll tell u D-16 is going to yandere-ish to yandere for (Y/n)

Again thanks for all your feedback and support it really means a lot to me! 😊

Peace ✌️

[softmick]

autistic mickey thoughts i’m chewing on:

hyposensitive bby mickey walking into things, stomping around, wrestling with his brothers - things he never grows out of.

he loves to shoulder check people. he loves wearing heavy boots and his heels slamming into the ground. he loves the deep pressure and slamming of bodies. fighting is fun! he’s not even that mad like that, it just makes him feel right somehow.

hyposensitive bby mickey infuriating terry because he doesn’t react to pain like the other kids. it takes a lot to make him cry, physically anyway, and maybe it scares terry at first… to go so far. but then it’s a challenge. and maybe this is just another little reason mickey downplays what happens to him. because it doesn’t really hurt that bad.

little hyposensitive mickey falling asleep to screaming, neighbors partying, gunshots, flashing lights who grows up and needs a weighted blanket and ian and the pressure of the wall at his back and white noise and flickering light to sleep on the west side.

lil mickey who hates vegetables because they all come from a can (soft) or the freezer (squeaky). and ian who realizes mickey loves pickles and gets onions on his sandwiches and has a little lightbulb moment and just gives mickey a raw carrot. and it turns out he does like vegetables and then he snacks like a rabbit for a while because CRUNCH

mickey who has lackluster sexual experiences before/outside of ian because the girls he’s with are young (like him) and kind of passive. or he hooks up with guys and does his best not to touch too much and decides it’s just kind of blah. but then he and ian fight and fuck and it just lights up his world. because he needs a LOT of sensory input. and ian is willing to put in work!!

lil dirty mickey hating lukewarm/cold water and the weird way his clothes smell like nothing with their shitty (nonexistent?) laundry detergent but loving scalding hot water and strong perfumed soaps and fabric softener. mickey who isn’t crazy about baths but loves a hot tub/jetted tub.

mickey being much more accommodating/open to new things when he can bring his headphones and blast music into his ears. yoga? sure, but only if he can listen to his music.

mickey who very reluctantly agrees to stop shooting without ear protection. but only if there’s more recoil.

mickey loving color and obnoxious patterns because he is sensory seeking babey

mickey and ian having a code word or phrase for when mickey is crawling out of his skin that he uses right before tackling ian.

the gallaghers learning that if they want to show mickey affection it’s better to grip his shoulder or his arm tight than try for some light one armed hug shit. except for debbie who doesn’t give up hugging and just tries to her best to crush him.

idk man. just mickey okay? i love him

[derehono]

24.02.2022.

The day that changed my life forever.

24th of February 2022 should have been my usual day. No, not usual. A wonderful day. I should have been checked with a doctor, gave notice to teachers in high school of my absence, and then fly away on vacation, my parents wanted it so much.

On 23rd of February 2022 I felt happy. I had a secure, happy life, preparing to finals, hanging out with my friends, already having an offer from university.

Until 5AM 24.02.2022.

I had not a single class in my school since then.

I haven’t seen my friend group in 2 years.

I didn’t have my finals.

We did not have that vacation.

“Daughter, wake up. This old psychotic man attacked us. We are leaving.”

That was my first photo of the day, trying sarcastically keep myself normal. I remember that actual emptiness, reading my classmates texts about how their windows were shaking because of explosions, the sky was orange. They sent that video.

He called it “a special military operation”.

I collected random clothes, some hobby stuff just to keep my sanity, grabbed my pet, emptied my safety locker. I was scared that russians would intrude into our home and steal all my savings, so I throw away key to that lock. This key became my symbol of war, I have never found it even after return.

When I with my parents and pet got out of flat to car we heard for the very first time air raid siren. We would hear so many more of them, we would learn to differentiate them, but then we were confused.

It was my second photo. People were going away. Foot, cars, bicycles. I remember such a surreal picture. Some moms were carrying their toddlers, one woman was carrying a bucket of water with turtles, other people were carrying cages with parrots, with dogs, with cats, with exotic pets despite air raid siren, temperature, rain. Everyone was so confused and scared.

Few days later the road we were riding was occupied. Bridges destroyed. Factories burnt. Supermarkets demolished. Houses in ruins. Road in holes. On the side of the road burnt cars with “DO NOT TOUCH, POSSIBLY EXPLOSIVE”. That gut wrenching feeling seeing photos of dead bodies and recognising the place.

But back then it was still lively, not a road of death. I remember reading news then. First victims, first shelling. Invasion from East. Invasion from Kharkiv region. Invasion from Crimea. Invasion from Chernihiv. Invasion from Zhytomyr. And we were in Zhytomyr region at that moment. Explosions in Kyiv. The border was destroyed.

I felt nothing. Just emptiness.

This precious girl was keeping my head cool all the road. She was also scared and irritated, but she was so strong, such an amazing girl. I am so proud of her.

We were heading to my grandparents who lived closer to West Ukraine, so we would be safer. The road that takes usually just 4 hours but that time it took 13 hours. 13 hours of driving exhausted and nerved. We saw soldiers, trucks, jets, how barricades were built, signs were removed.

But we made it. We were lucky. Lucky to be alive, to have family alive and mostly close to West, further from russia. Even though, part of my extended family still was under occupation in Chernihiv region, suffering from such close border with belarus.

When we arrived, we were just silent. Then collected mattresses for shelter, asked grandpa to grab some patrol (we knew that they would definitely destroy reservoirs and literally next day the started doing that), and just fell asleep in something that we arrived in, being so scared.

That day I also cut ties with russian friend who I am shamed to admit having. He was proving me that this is just a military operation, no one would be harmed.

Then, arrived spring that I will never forget but at the same time never remember. I remember 10 people in one floor house. I remember the whistle of rocket that woke us up. I remember sirens. I remember news. I remember losing hope. I remember first photos after deoccupation of Kyiv region. I remember how forgotten friend of my dad suddenly called him saying that his city is fully destroyed, his neighbour right on his eyes was exploded attempting to get into the car and evacuate.

I remember my first mental breakdown. How I was crying in the darkness, but quietly so no one would notice.

We were able to return home three months later. But we are just lucky. Someone would never return. Someone is not even alive to see their home again. Someone’s home is forever destroyed.

I was lucky that I have secured my place at foreign university before war, but my whole family is still in Ukraine.

War is not over at all. 20% of Ukraine is occupied. So many displaced civilians, so many deaths. No one could even count, we do not have any access to bodies. Only way to identify is to deoccupy and find mass graves. No other means. Children are suffering from PTSD even in such a young age. Almost in every city, big or small, you would find graveyards covered in Ukrainian flag, grave of the soldier.

Maybe media does not talk that much of us, but it doesn’t mean that everything is alright. Avdiivka is destroyed, right now operation searching for people under debris of the civilian house after attack is undergoing.

And this is happening all the time.

Who was punished for Olenivka? Who was punished for destruction of Kakhovka Dam? Who was punished for all fully destroyed cities? Who was responsible for all that absolutely atrocious videos torturing Ukrainian soldiers?

Please, remember, Ukraine is still on fire. People are still dying. Soldiers cannot even counterattack because they do not have enough ammo, just for protection. Information war is also waging, sharing all that misinformation, Nazi narratives, russian propaganda.

Remember.

Help.

Share.

russia is a terrorist state.

Glory to Ukraine.

Glory to the Heroes.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Tactical

Bucky x Y/n

Y/n and Bucky aren’t friends. At all. But sometimes adrenaline pulls people together…

Requests are open!

Warnings: A pinch of paprika- I mean, angst.

The hum of the Quinjet was just loud enough to mask the weighty silence between the two of you. Bucky sat across from you, arms crossed, blue eyes set in a hard glare that had become his signature look—at least when he looked at you.

“Anything you wanna share, Doll?” he drawled, leaning back and tapping one gloved finger against the armrest.

You huffed, fixing your eyes on the tactical map in front of you. “I think I covered it twice already. We infiltrate the west side, look for anything that resembles a command room, and get out before we’re spotted.”

Bucky’s eyebrow arched. “Because it’s really that simple, isn’t it?”

“Look, Barnes,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “Not every mission needs the Winter Soldier’s grim paranoia. Some of us operate just fine without all the brooding and sneaking around.”

“Oh, really?” His smirk was infuriating. “Is that why you almost got taken out by a HYDRA goon last month?”

The reminder stung, and you clenched your jaw, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it affect you. “I took him down just fine, thank you very much.”

“Only after he had you pinned,” he shot back, his tone dark. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“You’d have missed the chance to play hero, right?” You crossed your arms and forced a half-smile. “Does it hurt your pride that I can handle things on my own, Kitten?”

His expression shifted, and you could have sworn he looked taken aback for a split second before he rolled his eyes. “You know, I’ve met a lot of reckless people. But you? You’re in a league of your own.”

Before you could shoot back, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Five minutes out from target.”

You felt the adrenaline start to pump, the tension with Bucky simmering under the surface. But there was no time for bickering now. You both had a job to do.

The two of you slipped out of the jet, making your way down the dusty hillside that overlooked the HYDRA base. The place was deserted on the surface, a cluster of low buildings with faded insignias and the eerie quiet of a ghost town.

“Looks clear,” you muttered, scanning the area through the binoculars. “There should be an entrance at the west end, right behind that main building.”

Bucky nodded, keeping his gaze trained ahead, but his posture was stiff. “This whole thing feels off. I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you replied tersely. “But we have a job to do, remember?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he shot you a glare. “If you’re gonna keep talking, maybe aim that mouth at the target.”

You bit back a retort, inhaling sharply. Despite the irritation bubbling up inside, you reminded yourself to stay focused. “Fine. I’ll lead.”

“Over my dead body.” Bucky’s words came out harsh, yet there was a glint of something you couldn’t place in his eyes—concern? It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual guarded glare.

“Look,” you said, exasperated, “we’ve been through this before. I know what I’m doing.”

“Then prove it.” He gestured forward. “I’ll cover you.”

You were thrown by the sudden relent but didn’t waste time questioning it. Keeping low, you crept forward, Bucky right behind, your heart hammering in your chest as you approached the entrance.

The base was darker than expected, the air heavy with dust and the stale scent of metal and chemicals. A feeling of unease settled over you as you moved silently through the corridors, listening for any sign of movement.

“I’ll check the left side,” you whispered.

“No. Stick together,” Bucky replied, voice low and firm. “Can’t afford to lose sight of you.”

You bit back another snappy response, pushing down the slight warmth his words stirred up. “Fine,” you muttered, focusing on the task at hand. But as you reached a fork in the hallway, something metal clicked underfoot.

“Y/N—”

The floor dropped out before you had a chance to react. You barely registered Bucky’s hand reaching for you as you were plunged into darkness, a shock of cold air and the weightlessness of the fall hitting you all at once.

You landed hard, feeling a sharp sting in your ankle as Bucky’s form landed beside you with a thud. He was quick to his feet, helping you up even as you grimaced.

“Seriously?” he muttered, scanning the dark room with narrowed eyes. “A pit trap? They’ve really thought of everything.”

“Stop gloating and help me out of here, Barnes,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to test your injured foot. But the pain was blinding, and you leaned into him instinctively.

His grip tightened, his face softening ever so slightly. “Not gloating, Doll. Just pissed that we’re in this mess.” He looked down at your ankle, his jaw clenching. “You’re not walking on that. I’ll carry you out.”

You shook your head, wincing. “I can manage. Just give me a second.”

“Not gonna happen,” he replied, an unusual tenderness coloring his tone. Without waiting for you to argue, he scooped you up, one arm around your back and the other under your knees.

You let out a huff, but somewhere in the back of your mind, a part of you softened. The world looked different from this angle, cradled in his arms, his intense gaze focused ahead. You hadn’t realized how strong he was—not just physically but in how he held himself, unwavering even when things seemed grim.

And somehow, the closeness didn’t feel quite as irritating as you would have imagined.

The pit trap had deposited you both into some kind of hidden maintenance tunnel, its dim lighting casting everything in a cool, blue hue. Bucky’s footsteps were steady beneath you as he carried you through the narrow corridor, his grip unwavering even as you wiggled, trying to insist that you could walk.

“Would you stop squirming?” he muttered, his face half-lit in shadow.

You crossed your arms, huffing. “I told you I don’t need to be carried, Barnes. I’m fine.”

Bucky’s grip tightened as he shifted you slightly in his arms, his gaze never wavering from the path ahead. “Sure, you’re fine, Kitten. That’s why you nearly collapsed when you tried to put weight on that ankle.”

“I didn’t—” you started, but the way his eyes flicked down to you, that borderline-smirk on his lips, had you swallowing your words.

You kept your gaze forward, refusing to meet his eyes, and let the silence settle, if only because you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. You tried to ignore the way his arms felt around you, sturdy and strangely comforting. There was a warmth radiating from him that made you feel oddly safe, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated finding with him. The “Winter Soldier” was the last person you would have expected to feel this around.

“We’ll be out of here soon,” he muttered as if sensing your unease, his tone softer than usual. “Then you can get back to calling the shots.”

The words, laced with his usual edge of sarcasm, had an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. He shifted his hold on you just enough for you to feel the protective firmness in his grip, and somehow, it had you biting back a smile.

“Doesn’t look like there’s an easy way back up,” he added. “We’ll have to find another way around.”

“So,” you muttered, giving in just slightly to the warmth pooling in your chest, “you admit we’re a little stuck?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We? No, Doll. You’re the one who had to go left instead of sticking together.”

You scoffed. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

“Didn’t say that.” He gave you a slight smirk, his face close enough for you to notice a softness in his features that was usually hidden behind his intense stare. “I’m just saying, maybe you could try listening every once in a while.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, sure. Because you’re just so much fun to listen to.”

But the edge in your words had softened, and you felt your heartbeat quicken when his expression shifted, something warmer flickering behind the teasing smirk. The silence returned, charged and lingering.

Part 5: A Moment of Vulnerability

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky set you down gently on a raised portion of the tunnel floor. The pain in your ankle flared up when you shifted, and you winced, grabbing onto his arm before you could catch yourself.

His face was unreadable, but his hand remained firm on your shoulder. “Let me look at it.”

You hesitated, still feeling that simmering irritation. But there was something in his eyes—an unspoken plea for you to trust him—that made you relent. You nodded, and he crouched down, his fingers gentle as he pushed your pant leg up enough to examine the ankle. His touch was warm against your skin, a surprisingly careful caress as he probed the area.

“This is going to bruise,” he murmured. “But it doesn’t feel broken.”

“Good to know, Doctor Barnes,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone. But his eyes flicked up to yours, that softness returning, and you felt your breath hitch.

“Why do you always do that?” he asked, voice quiet.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Make everything a fight.” He shook his head, smirking faintly. “Even now, you’d rather act like you’re fine than just admit that you’re hurt.”

His words struck a nerve, and you shifted uncomfortably. “It’s called self-sufficiency, Barnes. Not all of us need a team to hold our hand.”

The faint smile on his lips faltered, and his gaze grew serious. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”

The weight of his words surprised you, their sincerity cutting through your defenses like a knife. You opened your mouth to retort, but found yourself at a loss. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, almost vulnerable—and the realization that he cared, even a little, stirred something unfamiliar in you.

“Why do you care?” The question came out softer than you intended, barely more than a whisper.

He held your gaze, his voice equally soft. “Because I know what it’s like to try to do everything on your own. It doesn’t end well, Doll.”

The air between you felt charged, and for once, you didn’t have a comeback ready. His hand lingered on your shoulder a moment longer, and you thought you saw him lean in, ever so slightly, before he cleared his throat and looked away.

“We should keep moving,” he muttered, pulling his hand back. He helped you to your feet, carefully supporting you as you tested your weight on the injured ankle. It wasn’t perfect, but with his steady grip around your waist, it was manageable.

As you continued down the tunnel, the silence was different—no longer tense, but comfortable in a way you hadn’t thought possible. There was a newfound understanding between you, fragile yet undeniable, that settled over the usual friction. It was like you’d seen a glimpse of each other without the walls up, and somehow, that was scarier than any HYDRA base you’d ever encountered.

The tunnel eventually led to a service door that opened into the heart of the HYDRA base. You both fell into a natural rhythm, Bucky keeping one hand steady on your arm as you limped beside him. The adrenaline from your mission kept the pain manageable, though you found yourself more aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours, his steady presence beside you grounding and reassuring.

The corridor opened into a spacious, dimly lit room—likely a command center, judging by the rows of consoles and monitors lining the walls. It was empty now, with only the faint hum of machinery disturbing the silence.

Bucky pulled you back, his voice low. “This looks like what we need. You watch the entrance; I’ll search the terminals.”

You nodded, positioning yourself by the door as Bucky moved silently to the consoles. He slid a flash drive from his pocket, inserting it into one of the main systems and working quickly to upload whatever information SHIELD needed. For the first time, you found yourself watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, surprised by his focus and ease in the enemy stronghold.

A loud clang echoed from down the hall, snapping you back to attention. Your heart leapt as you spotted shadows moving, HYDRA agents closing in.

“Bucky—”

“I know,” he muttered, eyes darting to the flash drive’s slow-loading progress bar. “We need a few more seconds.”

The footsteps grew louder, voices murmuring just outside the door. You moved instinctively, pressing your back against the wall, one hand on your gun as Bucky finally retrieved the drive.

“Got it,” he said, turning to you. His eyes flicked between you and the door, his expression hardening. “Get behind me. I’ll clear a path.”

Despite everything in you that screamed to resist, you felt a surge of trust and nodded. You took your place at his back, leaning slightly on your good leg as he readied his gun, his stance calm and sure.

The agents burst through the door, and Bucky moved like lightning. He took down the first two with precise, calculated strikes, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he blocked blows and countered with swift punches. The tension and focus between the two of you was perfect, synchronized—he was a constant, unwavering force, covering you as you fired at the agents attempting to flank him.

But as the last agent fell, one final man staggered to his feet, pulling a weapon from his belt—a grenade, small but deadly.

You reacted without thinking, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and shoving him to the side as you dove away. The explosion rocked the room, and debris rained down around you. Pain bloomed along your shoulder as you hit the ground, hard, but you were alive. Bucky scrambled over to you, his face pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up. “You could have—”

His words cut off as he saw your grimace, and his anger melted into something raw, a kind of vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.

“I—I’m fine,” you managed, your voice weak but steady. “Just wanted to save your sorry ass, is all.”

Bucky let out a choked laugh, but the way his gaze lingered on you was anything but casual. “Doll, if you were trying to kill me with worry, mission accomplished.”

You gave a wry smile, trying to shift to a sitting position, but he stopped you, one hand bracing your back as he helped you up. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and he seemed to realize it, pulling back with a sheepish look.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here before either of us does anything else stupid.”

The tunnel eventually led to a service door that opened into the heart of the HYDRA base. You both fell into a natural rhythm, Bucky keeping one hand steady on your arm as you limped beside him. The adrenaline from your mission kept the pain manageable, though you found yourself more aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours, his steady presence beside you grounding and reassuring.

The corridor opened into a spacious, dimly lit room—likely a command center, judging by the rows of consoles and monitors lining the walls. It was empty now, with only the faint hum of machinery disturbing the silence.

Bucky pulled you back, his voice low. “This looks like what we need. You watch the entrance; I’ll search the terminals.”

You nodded, positioning yourself by the door as Bucky moved silently to the consoles. He slid a flash drive from his pocket, inserting it into one of the main systems and working quickly to upload whatever information SHIELD needed. For the first time, you found yourself watching him with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, surprised by his focus and ease in the enemy stronghold.

A loud clang echoed from down the hall, snapping you back to attention. Your heart leapt as you spotted shadows moving, HYDRA agents closing in.

“Bucky—”

“I know,” he muttered, eyes darting to the flash drive’s slow-loading progress bar. “We need a few more seconds.”

The footsteps grew louder, voices murmuring just outside the door. You moved instinctively, pressing your back against the wall, one hand on your gun as Bucky finally retrieved the drive.

“Got it,” he said, turning to you. His eyes flicked between you and the door, his expression hardening. “Get behind me. I’ll clear a path.”

Despite everything in you that screamed to resist, you felt a surge of trust and nodded. You took your place at his back, leaning slightly on your good leg as he readied his gun, his stance calm and sure.

The agents burst through the door, and Bucky moved like lightning. He took down the first two with precise, calculated strikes, his metal arm glinting in the dim light as he blocked blows and countered with swift punches. The tension and focus between the two of you was perfect, synchronized—he was a constant, unwavering force, covering you as you fired at the agents attempting to flank him.

But as the last agent fell, one final man staggered to his feet, pulling a weapon from his belt—a grenade, small but deadly.

You reacted without thinking, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and shoving him to the side as you dove away. The explosion rocked the room, and debris rained down around you. Pain bloomed along your shoulder as you hit the ground, hard, but you were alive. Bucky scrambled over to you, his face pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fury.

“Are you insane?” he hissed, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up. “You could have—”

His words cut off as he saw your grimace, and his anger melted into something raw, a kind of vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.

“I—I’m fine,” you managed, your voice weak but steady. “Just wanted to save your sorry ass, is all.”

Bucky let out a choked laugh, but the way his gaze lingered on you was anything but casual. “Doll, if you were trying to kill me with worry, mission accomplished.”

You gave a wry smile, trying to shift to a sitting position, but he stopped you, one hand bracing your back as he helped you up. His fingers lingered just a second too long, and he seemed to realize it, pulling back with a sheepish look.

“C’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get out of here before either of us does anything else stupid.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Back at SHIELD headquarters, you sat on the edge of a cot in the medical wing, absently fiddling with the fresh bandage on your shoulder. The mission debrief had gone by in a blur, details passing over your head as the exhaustion settled into your bones. You’d barely processed the events of the night, especially what had happened with Bucky—how he’d been right there, steady as a rock when you’d needed him most.

You glanced up, and there he was, lingering in the doorway, looking as hesitant as you’d ever seen him. Bucky rarely seemed unsure of anything, let alone of himself, and yet here he was, standing like he didn’t quite know if he should come in or leave.

“Need something?” you asked, your tone light but genuine curiosity edging through.

He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck—a rare gesture of uncertainty. His gaze was trained on the floor as if the sterile tile held answers to questions he didn’t want to ask out loud. Finally, he cleared his throat, looking at you with a seriousness that softened around the edges.

“I just…wanted to check in,” he said, voice quiet and strangely vulnerable. “You did good out there, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Was that a compliment?”

A faint smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, though his eyes were softer than usual. “Don’t get used to it, Darling.”

You let out a small laugh, the tension loosening between you, but the lightness faded as you noticed the way he kept looking at you, like he was still holding back.

There was a charged silence, thick and filled with words unsaid, and it took all your strength not to look away from him. You didn’t want to be the one to break the moment, afraid that if you spoke too soon, whatever this was between you might shatter.

“Look, I…” he started, his voice barely a murmur as he took a tentative step forward. “I don’t know what we are, or what this is supposed to be.” He stopped, swallowing hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I know that seeing you go after that grenade… I thought—” He broke off, his jaw tensing, the words catching as he struggled to get them out. “It scared me, Doll. A lot more than it should have.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and weighty. Your heartbeat quickened, the vulnerability in his words hitting you like a tidal wave. Bucky was not someone who confessed easily, who bared his heart openly—and yet, here he was, doing just that. His expression was a careful mixture of hope and apprehension, like he was bracing for impact, expecting to be turned away.

Your lips curled into a teasing smile, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in your voice. “So…you care about me?”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his lips was genuine, soft. “Yeah, Kitten. Guess I do.”

You felt a laugh bubble up, disbelief and relief mingling in equal measure, and for a second you forgot everything else—the mission, your injuries, the pain. The weight of his confession settled in, comforting and thrilling all at once. It felt like stepping into uncharted territory with him, a place you’d never thought you’d end up but were inexplicably drawn toward.

“Guess I care about you too,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a cautious step closer, your fingers brushing against his. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of his sleeve, grounding you in this surreal moment.

He reached up slowly, his hand grazing your cheek as he cupped it gently, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. You held your breath as he leaned in, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, as if asking for permission. And when you nodded, just the smallest of nods, his lips finally met yours, soft and warm.

The kiss was tentative, almost shy, but you felt the depth of it—the weight of every unspoken word and suppressed feeling finally laid bare. Bucky’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. It was a mixture of relief, longing, and something stronger, something you hadn’t dared to name until now.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The world felt quieter, smaller somehow, like it was just the two of you in that little medical room, safe from everything else.

He looked down at you, that familiar smirk creeping back onto his face. “So, Doll, do we go back to hating each other tomorrow? Because I think I’ll miss the arguments.”

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Hate to break it to you, Barnes, but I think we’re past the ‘hating’ part.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, his hand still resting on your waist as he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “What part are we at, then?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I think we’re at the part where you finally admit I’m the better agent.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through you. “Not a chance, Kitten. But keep trying—I like seeing you all fired up.”

You shook your head, grinning, unable to stop the smile that seemed to come so easily around him now. “Guess I’ll just have to keep proving it, then.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the teasing banter dying down but leaving behind a new kind of warmth that you hadn’t felt before. You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The words held a quiet promise, one that felt surprisingly natural coming from him.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe—like you’d found a partner, an ally, someone who would stand by you no matter what. Whatever happened from here, you knew you weren’t facing it alone.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

——————————————————————————————————

So, something a bit angsty for you guys - did we enjoy it? 🤔 Comments are really, really appreciated, they let me know what you want!

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 14 Prompt: Airport and/or Bar

Tags: Established Relationship, Airport Pick Ups, Supportive Wayne Munson, Idiots In Love

wc: 1796 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Long distance isn’t the relationship Steve and Eddie had dreamed they had when they finally confessed their love together in the Spring of ’88, but they’ve been making it work for years now.

As far as Steve’s concerned they are experts at it now.

They talk every night. Steve from his bedroom in the apartment he shares with Robin in San Francisco, Eddie from his own bedroom in the house he lives in with Wayne two towns over from Hawkins.

Steve tells Eddie about his long days at the office, the responsibilities he’s been shouldered with now that he’s earned his father’s trust to run the West Coast branch of the organization by himself. A feat Steve didn’t even know he wanted until he finally sat down with his father years ago to learn what the man did.

Eddie listens tentatively and returns the favor with his own stories of the day. Life at the plant alongside Wayne isn’t his dream, but it's a steady job that pays the bills. Besides, he likes being near Wayne. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not a hop, skip, and a jump away from the old man who quite literally saved his life more than once.

It’s not like they wanted to create professional lives thousands of miles apart from each other, but it's the cards they’ve been dealt. Sure, they’d love to be under the same roof for more than a week at a time, but they make it work. The real truth is that they’re both too afraid to make the other sacrifice all they’ve built for the other. Resentment is a relationship killer and neither is ready to jeopardize the cozy relationship they’ve built.

So, they make do.

Steve visits often, a perk of being the boss of his branch. Occasionally, he writes them off as business trips and checks in on the Midwest branch while he’s in town. Other times he uses his sick days and vacation days to make the trip out to Indiana.

Every time he flies into the Indianapolis International Airport, Eddie is waiting for him at the end of the jet bridge. The first time, he was decked out in a suit a size too small. A chauffeur cap askew on his head and a handwritten sign with “S. Harrington” scrawled across it that he had leaned on a luggage cart like all the other private chauffeurs waiting for their clients. Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter the moment he saw him, running to Eddie and giving him a hug that the rest of the passengers side-eyeing them — not because they were two men, but because it was one hell of a greeting for a paid chauffeur.

From that moment on, Eddie committed to the airport greeting bit. The next time Steve flew to Eddie, he was greeted with a giant sign that read “Congrats! You survived prison!” A few times after that, Eddie was standing there with a bouquet of blue balloons and a banner that said “It’s a Boy!” There was the time he pretended Steve was his cheating boyfriend and had a total meltdown at the gate only to leave with Steve hand-in-hand three minutes later. And he can’t forget about the time he roped Dustin and the rest of the kids into making the trip, the lot of them waiting for Steve at the gate with various signs claiming to be his long-lost children.

Aside from getting to spend time with Eddie, his airport arrivals were always the highlight of the trip. He knows Eddie gets a kick out of the theatrics, but there’s a part of him deep down that wishes he could be on the receiving end of the airport shenanigans at least once. Unfortunately, Steve has yet to repay the favor since he’s usually the one making the trip out to Indy.

All that’s about to change though, because after years of asking, he’s finally convinced Eddie and Wayne to take their holiday vacation and come spend Christmas with him and Robin in sunny California.

Which means one thing: It’s Steve's turn to create an epic airport arrival sign.

“How am I supposed to top any of these?” Steve asks, sifting through the hoard of airport signs he’s kept over the years. A beautiful tapestry of their chaotic relationship.

“I don’t think Eddie can be topped,” Robin says, searching through her own stack of neon poster boards.

“I mean…”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Steve throws his hands up in defense, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay. The last thing he needs is to upset Robin before they come up with a sign idea.

Sighing, Steve lets his head thunk against the mountain of signs. It’s no surprise Eddie is the more creative one of their relationship, but he feels bad he can’t come up with anything even remotely as good as the signs Eddie’s been creating for years.

“Look, Steve,” Robin says, patting his back. “You’re never going to outdo Eddie. He’s theatrical at his core. He lives for being a menace. Stop trying to channel him and channel yourself instead.”

“Is this your way of telling me you find me boring?” he asks, gazing up at her.

“No, dingus! I’m just saying, channel that Romeo side I know is in there,” she says, thrusting her finger into Steve’s chest. “Be sappy. Eddie’ll appreciate it.”

In the end, Steve takes Robin’s advice. He cuts a fluorescent green poster board into a wonky heart — one side longer than the other. Tries three separate times to get “Welcome Home” centered in the middle before he gives up and freehand it. And then, for extra flair, he uses a bottle and a half go glitter glue on the whole thing. They’re going to be finding specks of glitter for weeks, but he thinks it’ll be worth it.

According to the signs, Eddie and Wayne’s flight has already landed and is en route to the gate. Steve stands nervously by the sky gate exit. The sign is still folded in half, wrinkled at the edges from how much he’s fidgeting with it. He had no idea how nerve-wracking it is being on this side of things. It’s silly really. He knows Eddie is going to be happy to see him, sign or no sign, but he can’t help but be a little on edge.

Thankfully, the doors open and a flood of travelers start disembarking from the plane. Steve stands on his top-toes, scanning the tired faces in search of Eddie and Wayne. As the crowd thins out, Steve starts to worry. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe they missed the flight. Maybe he’s at the wrong gate?

Shit, what if he’s at the wrong gate?

A glance up at the digital sign above the exit, confirms that Steve is in the right place. He breathes a sigh of relief before he goes back to scanning. They have to be coming out soon, he thinks, and starts to unfold the sign. He holds it low, clutched over his chest until he spots a familiar head of unruly curls.

Hoisting it over his head, he shouts, “Eds!”

Eddie’s head whips around at the sound of his voice, eyes shining when he spots him in the thinning crowd. Steve has all of five seconds to brace himself before Eddie launches himself into his arms, crushing the sign between their bodies.

It’s not uncommon for the two of them to hug when they reunite at the airport, but this feels different. Eddie’s arms are tighter around his neck and he’s pretty sure he can hear him sniffling, body slightly shaking in his grasp.

“Eds?” Steve whispers into the mess of curls. “You okay?”

Eddie nods, slowly peeling himself away from Steve. With a little bit of space between them, Steve watches as Eddie’s eyes glance between the smushed sign and Steve’s eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.

Shit, is it too much?

“Really?” Eddie sniffles, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away a tear. “You want this to be our home? Together?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Steve certainly hadn’t planned for that. Sure, he’s secretly been hoping that the trip out here would get Eddie and to a lesser extent Wayne to realize how great the city is and finally bite the bullet and move out here. Start the mechanic shop they’ve been planing for years. But Steve knew better than to set expectations too high. He’d never ask Eddie to move for him, just like Eddie would never ask Steve to move back for him.

But now, seeing Eddie smiling, eyes glassy with tears. Well, shit, maybe he should have asked him.

“Wait, you want to move in with me?”

“Sweetheart. I’ve wanted to live with you since the moment we said I love you on the Henderson’s porch.”

It’s not news to Steve, per se. They’ve talked at length about what living together would be like; especially in those early days when their relationship was in that blissful honeymoon phase. Still, the words come as a shock to Steve who stumbles out of Eddie’s grasp for a moment.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, he locks eyes with Eddie. “Why the hell have we been doing long distance for a decade?” he laughs, yanking Eddie back into his arms.

“I thought you weren’t ready! I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Baby,” Steve breathes. He can’t believe this. Have they seriously been suffering in silence for years for nothing? Christ, they’re idiots. “Of course, I want to live with you! I just didn’t want to make you move.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wayne grumbles, shaking his head. He stumbles his way towards them, throwing a hand on both of their shoulders. “You two are idiots, you know that? Told ya both you needed to communicate what ya wanted!” He rolls his eyes, shoving them both. “Could’ve been livin’ in the sunshine instead of snowy Indiana for years now.”

“Hey, who said anything about you moving with us?” Eddie asks, tearing his eyes away from Steve to stare at his Uncle.

“Hate to break it to you, boy. But wherever you go, I go. S’the Munson rule.”

Steve can’t help but laugh as he pulls both of them in for a hug before ushering them through the bustling airport. They fetch their bags and make it safely into his car before they’re on the way. As he pulls away from the San Francisco Airport, Eddie immediately reaches for the car radio.

Before he has a chance to change the channel, the crooning voice of Perry Como starts singing “(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays.”

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

She Was Only Ever Mine

(not my gif)

WARNING: MINORS DNI, smut suggestive ending, jealous!emily, angst, mean!emily, flirty!emily/r, possessive!emily, alcohol consumption, brief mention of firearms, blood, one bed trope

req: So it’s Emily Prentiss x fem!reader and this is one of my first asks so idk if I’ll get picked or wtv but I appreciate your time anyway! :) So, maybe there’s a one bed trope somehow in this? But maybe during a case r and Em have to be roomies :) the team has just finished the case and is out for drinks, r suspiciously keeps getting alerts on her phone which the team is obviously curious about. Basically Emily hates r’s guts and r never figures out why despite her attempts at trying to befriend the woman. Bar after the case and Tara flirts with r because she knows Emily will get jealous and most likely confess

Long fic! Buckle up! (Not my best fic and was rushed pls forgive me)

Emily grumbled as she board the plane. This was absolute nonsense, of course she had to share a one bed hotel room with y/n. The woman was insufferable, smiling and prancing everywhere she went.

No words could describe the dread she felt everyday walking into work and seeing the prissy Princess, thank the Lord JJ would leave a coffee on her desk every morning, though, it’s strange she only started doing it after y/n came on the team..

Emily shook the thought off and continued her last page of paperwork. Signing off on it and pushing it aside. Checking the time she place a few more extra things in her go bag.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in!” The Unit Chief exclaimed, never lifting her eyes from her bag, a certain ‘prissy princess’ popped her head in with a bright smile. “Care for coffee?” she quipped, hoping for a yes, although, deep down, she knew she’d be rejected.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with you in public, princess” She had assigned her that nickname the minute she walked through the doors of the BAU. Her demeanor had screamed Disney Princess. Y/n frowned but slapped inside holding two coffee cups, “Thought so, I got you coffee anyways, Wicked Witch of the West” The younger woman smirked, when Emily’s mouth dropped open, “I’ll let you take that one, but I will get you back for that.” She warned, taking a sip of the warm liquid, she hummed in approval, “you know my order…do you stalk me, Princess?” Emily teased, y/n rolled her eyes as she sat down on the chair infront of the chief’s desk. “I wouldn’t dream of it”

—————

“Ugh, why are you so annoying?” The unit chief complained, the Young woman behind her bit her lip to hold back from saying something that could land her at a desk job, “why are you so mean?” Y/n retorted, crossing her arms as she stormed past the woman for what seemed like the 40th time that day. Not even the slightest moment of peace lasted, not when these two were in the same room. JJ and Tara looked at each other and sighed, “y’know, Em, you’ve gotta be nice to her some day” JJ lectured, her motherly tone popping out, Tara followed y/n into the jet.

Lord knows what’ll happen now that Emily and Y/n have to room together.

”Hey, y/n, you okay?” Tara cooed, noticing y/n’s angry gaze and sniffles, “I’m here if you need to talk.” Sitting down she gave the woman a sincere look, Tara had always been kind to her since her arrival at the BAU, even showed her the ropes and policies. “It’s just..I dunno, I’m so frustrated!” she exclaimed, picking at the skin around her nails, “I haven’t done anything to her! At least nothing that I know of”

JJ and Emily entered the jet last and Emily sat quietly next to y/n with an angry look, they both tensed, refusing to look at each other in any way. Clearly both JJ and Tara were weirded out with the tension and moved to the seats next to them, just to give them a little room. The guys were upfront talks about who knows what, while the back was as silent as a mouse. Emily glanced over to seeing y/n looking out the window and picking around the skin around her fingers. The older woman hated to admit it but she felt bad, she always did, but being the stubborn woman she was, never apologized, at least verbally.

Placing a soft hand on y/n thigh, she gave it a little squeeze as an ‘I’m sorry.’ Looking at the hand, y/n only scoffed, “Y/n..” Emily pleaded softly, looking at her with sincere regret in her eyes, “What, Emily?” Y/n turned, her eyes filled with annoyance, “Look, I’m-“ Emily looked down to see a red substance start to seep out of y/n’s finger, “Hey! Don’t pick at it, here, I’ll get you a band aid, she hurriedly dug in her bag for one and unwrapped it carefully, “I told you to stop, you’ll hurt yourself!” She tsked, trying to get the medical wrap to stick, “there, that’s better,” she smiled softly trying to not show too much tenderness, looking at the woman infront of her who held a curious expression, “Thank you, Emily.” The gray haired woman simply nodded, not saying another word.

Time passed quickly and upon landing, the team was debriefed by local police men, “and you’ve confirmed that this is him?” Emily stated, pointing to their Unsub who’s face on the paper, which was very clearly out in the open, “Yes Ma’am, we have agents stationed outside of his living area within a 100 acre radius.” The investigator replied, handing her the file, the team all sighed, they all could rest tonight, after weeks of intel gathering and tracking down some of the most evasive killers they’ve got their Unsub bagged. Tommorow was the night of a gala were several owners of various big name companies would attend. It was there where they would make an arrest.

It just so happend that their Unsub was Damian Frazier, a very charming man who killed his way to the top of the food chain. He had some connection which is how he evader for so long, but now they had to only wait one more day.

———

“Alright, I think I’ve about finished my report, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ groaned, Spencer following swiftly behind, Rossi sneaking with him. Tara stood up and straightened her shirt, “Yeah! I think I’m gonna hit the hay too, Luke, Matt” she said through gritted teeth, they looked at the woman confused before mouthing ‘ohhhhh’s. Sometimes, the two shared the same brain cell and it took for them to look at each other before realizing. The last three quickly excused themselves, getting the Assignment.

The team had took it upon themselves to start Project Cupid, amazing name, right?

Well, Garcia thought so, she made it up with an excited expression on her face. The plan was to do everything possible to get Emily and Y/n to realize their feelings for each other. That meant booking hotel rooms so the two had to room together.

“Ugh, why am I always stuck with you?” Emily sneered, writing a little more aggressively on her paper, y/n stayed silent, tired of the woman’s antics. She only tried distracting herself, in this case, it was by texting someone to keep her occupied.

Isobel Castille had been a good friend of hers for a while, they dared for precisely 3 months before moving on with their lives, realizing that they weren’t meant to be. That didn’t stop them from being close, no, it encouraged them to confide in each other. Y/n laughed at a joke her friend sent, Emily lifted her head and her jaw clearly tensed, “Holding out on me, Princess?” She commented, seemingly not caring about who was making her smile brightly. “Huh? Oh, it’s no one. You done?”

———

It was obvious now that the two had a…special relationship, they argue but it never got too heated. Prentiss had known when she crossed a line and apologized, non-verbally most of the time. But over this, said time, Emily developed a few feeling that she might’ve shoved down. It had just been 2 days after their last case, and Emily began to freak out about The events that unraveled at the hotel.

~~~ “You sure you don’t want me sleeping on the floor?” Y/n asked, making sure that she wouldn’t be making the gray haired woman anymore grump in the morning, “Yeah, Princess, just sleep so I don’t have to hear you squeaking.”

Y/n shrugged, pulling the covers over her as Emily silently read her book her glasses resting on the brdge of her nose. Before they knew it, both were fast asleep, the issue was, in the morning they had awoken tangled in each other’s arms, both also afraid to admit that it was the best night’s sleep they’d gotten in a while.

They very quickly pulled away, Emily being the first to zoom out of the comforting bed. Y/n laid motionless for a few minutes, replaying the memory of Emily’s warm and soft skin on hers. She knew this was messed up, Emily hated her, why should she be so attracted to someone who wouldn’t want her in a million years?

Before she started to spiral she brought up the courage to get out of bed and dress. It wasn’t flashy but she wore a tight fit long-sleeve and boot cut jeans that fit her well. She finished it off with a necklace that Tara had gifted her for her birthday and earrings.

Emily came out of the bathroom and tried to stop her lingering gaze, but she couldn’t hold back the way her eyes took in the sight before her. “What? Is it that bad?” Y/n questioned, crossing her arms in discomfort, clearly concious of the way Emily thinks of her.

The profiler immediately sense a change in tone and posture, “No, you look, good.” The corner’s of her lips turned up slightly in a almost invisible smile, not waiting for her response but swiftly moving across the room to retrieve her phone and badge.

———

The day went by quickly with the arrest going smoothly actually, not wanting to embarass himself further than he already had. Damian took the cuffs willingly but not without cursing the government, of course.

“Drinks on me?” Rossi asked, smiling as the team cheered, the weeks had been long but all became worth it in the end. It was safe to say that, good work was done and a reward was certainly due.

“Hey, y/n can I talk to you before we leave for the bar?” Tara asked, gently placing her hand on the woman’s bicep. “Uhm, Yeah, sure!” She smiled, walking with Tara away from the group, JJ smirked as she elbowed Garcia signalling that their plan was in motion.

The bubbly blonde spoke up, “Oh, aren’t Tara and Y/n just so cute?” Penelope felt excitement rush through her veins as Emily looked over with a blank expression. It was clear she was trying to stay composed, but her tensed jaw betrayed her. “I guess so, but y/n could do better” she said through gritted teeth, JJ cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eye, “Like who, Em?”

“Erm-“

“Em! You ready?” Y/n seemed a bit more joyful which made Emily worry about what they talked about. “Uh, Yeah, Princess, let’s go” this time, Prentiss said it with a softness in her tone, which of course made y/n’s heart race. Tara had pulled y/n aside to tell her the plan, Emily did like her, you couldn’t hide anything from a team of profilers. Now, y/n just had to play along like she didn’t know anything.

Emily shockingly accompanied y/n home since she knew she had left some clothes at her place. “You still have this shirt? No wonder why I couldn’t find it” Emily laughed as she brought the shirt up to her body and made a duck face. Y/n snorted as she put on some flare leggings and Emily’s old sweat shirt. “Okay, this is nice!” She said in the mirror coming into the bathroom where Emily was fixing her hair.

“Uhm, excuse me, miss, that’s my sweatshirt” she teased, pulling at it, slowly bit her lip as she took the woman in front her in. She ran a hand down her arms and gave a cocky smirk. “well, you look good in it” she assured, y/n couldn’t help but bask in the section cheif’s affection. Something that felt so foreign, yet, meant to be.

——

“There they are!” Luke beamed, everyone turning their heads immediately to the two. “Hey, y/n” Tara friendly greeted, but her stance suggested she wanted something more. With a deep breath y/n ripped herself from Emily’s hands and gravitated toward the doctor. “Tara, I’m practically peeing myself right now, what if if doesn’t work!” Y/n exclaimed, though her tone was hushed careful not to let Emily hear.

Speaking of the woman, she was conversing with Rossi and Simmons while she almost always had her eyes on you and Tara. It angered her the way that Tara could make her seem so comfortable and free so quickly. Perhaps it was a consequence for not dealing with her feelings sooner.

“Emily, if you keep staring I think you’ll actually burn a hole through her.” Rossi chuckled, giving the woman a nudge, she only chuckled half-heartedly, Simmons spoke up with a hand to her shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I think I like y/n, it’s just that I know she doesn’t like me, I mean look at her and Tara” she admited, looking down at her drink swirling it around her cup. Rossi and Simmons looked at each other like they just got a coldblooded killer to confess to their crimes.

“Well, maybe if you just talk to her. It’ll help, before Tara makes a real move” Matt said, slowly pushing her over, Tara noticed a certain woman coming over and placed a hand on y/n’s waist and pulled her closer, “play along” she whispered, y/n nodded slightly and let out a laugh.

Emily scoffed, it should be her holding you like that not Tara.

“Oi, Princess, over here!” She stood with her arms crossed, y/n giddily walked over, but of course conceal if her excitement.

“Yeah? You okay, Emily? We can leave-“

“I want you, Y/n. I need you! I know I was so rude to you and I never told you why, but I just didn’t know how to handle my feelings. I love you, I mean it and I get it if you like Tara because she’s just amazing and I’m an asshole, I hope you can-“ as Emily rambled, not meeting y/n’s loving gaze, she kissed her first to shut her up. “You’re good, I like Tara, really. But, I love you”

Emily couldn’t stop the heat growing in her cheeks, or the way her lips bended into a wide smile.

Maybe this could work.

[alittlebitofsainz]

a place in this world - ch1

a dream come true. you, a race engineer in formula one, having built your way up through the ranks. sure, the 2020 season hadn’t exactly gone the way that everyone had expected, but this was your chance, your moment to prove to the world of racing what you and your driver, carlos, were made of. but carlos isn’t staying at mclaren forever, and eventually, you’ll have a decision to make…

pairing: carlos sainz x f! reader. slow burn colleagues to friends to lovers (please, from my own experience, don’t follow this pipeline)

info: reader lives in the uk due to working at mclaren, and is somewhat implied to be british. it is also implied that they listen to bbc radio 2 and support leicester city football club. this may or may not be because these things are true of me and I wasn’t planning on publishing this, sorry!

warnings: cursing, a lil’ bit of angst, very infrequent use of y/n, one (1) google translated spanish sentence, a dry british writing style xoxo a/n: hello! welcome to a little passion project I never thought I’d share with the internet. this will eventually become a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ type series, where you can make decisions about your career that can eventually lead you to different teams and drivers. will be posting a masterlist soon with more info so bare with me! any feedback / comments are always welcome

Masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter One: … Ready for It?

it had started out like any other wednesday. except it hadn’t, not really. the nature of your job meant that there was no ‘any other wednesday’. most wednesdays meant that you were jetting off to some new country, your wide eyed face in the window seat, reflecting back off the pane of glass separating you from the dancing lights of some exciting new city, 5,000 feet below. race engineer to mclaren-renault formula one driver number 55, carlos sainz, wasn’t exactly what you had listed as what you wanted to be when you grew up, but you were far from disappointed that that’s what your linkedin profile now read, a metaphorical middle finger to everyone who’d said you’d never amount to anything in motorsports.

but by all accounts it had been a relatively uneventful wednesday in your life, in fact even more so than usual compared to the early morning check ins at Stansted airport that you’d grown accustomed to. this week was silverstone, your home race, if race engineers could call it that, and that meant no early mornings, no check ins, no flights, no decanting your liquids into tiny bottles and zipping them into a plastic bag to take through security. this wednesday was a stop at sainsburys to fill up the tank of your vw polo with petrol, and an 80 mile drive west towards silverstone circuit. the most exciting part of your morning was getting stuck in half an hour of traffic on the m25; you didn’t even need the dulcet tones of Richie Anderson on radio 2 to tell you there’d be traffic at Potters Bar. as a native southerner, you could just feel it in your bones.

still, only fifteen minutes late to track wasn’t too bad, considering your lengthy journey, and you were by far the last member of the team to arrive. you would’ve been even less late, but for the fact that you’d sat for the best part of five minutes in your car, engine off, staring at the notification on your phone. there were so many questions running around in your head, first and foremost of which was why on earth did dan from engineering have your number? but the second question, which was possibly the more important one, was why did carlos ask him for it? he said that it ‘might be useful to contact each other.’ if the current expression on your face could be summed up in a noise, it would be a very confused and very emphatic ‘huh?’.

sure, you and carlos interacted a lot during race weekends, that much was a given. you were forever catching up to discuss data, strategies, the car setup, the sandwich options at the hospitality, why the leicester city football team would beat real madrid in a fist fight. so okay, your conversations weren’t allstrictly work related, and you could’t deny that the two of you got on well and seemed to really understand each other, but that was all part of being a driver and race engineer duo; you had to be on the same wavelength. it was non-negotiable. but swapping phone numbers? you couldn’t imagine why the two of you would need to text or call each outside of work hours, and you had work phones for that. which led you to your third and fourth questions: number three, why did you suddenly feel so nervous and giddy with excitement when you re-read his message for the seventh time? (question three point five was why did you re-read his message seven times?) and number four, what the hell were you supposed to message back in reply?

you typed in a thumbs up emoji and then immediately deleted it. how fucking old were you, 65? what next, start talking to him about the cold war? no, you had to keep it fun and casual, not too overfamiliar but not too weirdly distant and cold. god, why was this so difficult? you felt like a schoolgirl with a teenage crush, constantly typing various replies and deleting them again, letter by letter. eventually you settled on a cool, calm and collected response, typing it out and shoving your phone into your pocket before you had time to overanalyse what you’d just sent. quickly gathering up your stuff from the boot of your car, you spammed the lock button on your car keys, just in case the first five times didn’t stick, and trotted off towards the entrance to the paddock.

as it was approaching the hour mark since he’d sent his text, carlos had been starting to worry that he’d overstepped an unwritten boundary. why had he even asked dan from engineering for her number in the first place? it just felt like something that he should have. lando had will’s number, he’d already asked him that. but once he’d sent the message he realised that he couldn’t really come up with an excuse as to why he’d needed it, why he couldn’t have waited until he’d seen her this weekend and ask for her number from herself. like a normal person. deep down he knew why, though he was in some sort of state of denial about it, and it was the same reason that he hadn’t asked for her number two weeks ago in Hungary, or at the previous race in Austria, or when he’d first met her at the start of the season. 

he breathed a sigh of relief when her reply came through, 57 minutes after he’d sent his message. well, the first one that is. the second message came two minutes after the first; god, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget to include who he was at the end of the text the first time around.

but it didn’t matter now, because she’d replied, and her words on the screen made him smile to himself, her voice in his head as he read them through three, now four times over. his fingers hovered over the keypad, contemplating a reply. he checked the time - it wouldn’t be long until she arrived at track anyway and they could chat in person, so he closed the messages app on his phone and tucked it away in his pocket, deciding against committing any words to the everlasting aether which was the iPhone messages app.

it was nearing the end of a lengthy strategy department meeting when your phone went off, a few pair of eyes glancing your way as you apologised profusely, eyes scanning over the text before sheepishly putting your phone on do not disturb and placing it back on the table face down. shit, this meeting wouldn’t be finished for another ten minutes at least, and by that time all the bacon and brie toasties would be gone (everyone knew they were the best lunch option). worse still, you hated the fact that you had to leave carlos hanging; pausing the strategy meeting to send off a quick text was equivalent to a cardinal sin, even if it was to carlos sainz. your eyes were flicking increasingly often down to the time on your laptop, the seconds crawling by as the time approached one o’clock. it felt like whichever godlike entity governed the laws of time was toying with you; surely it wasn’t possible for time to move this slowly? the head of strategy wrapped the meeting at 13:04, and you were out of your seat like a rocket.

amy, one of the strategists, fell into step beside you as you paced it down the corridor.

“you’ve heard about the brie and bacon being back on?” she asked; you only had to reply with a grin to give her the answer that she needed. she eyed you up, as much as anyone power walking down a busy corridor could whilst still maintaining maximum straight line speed.

“everyone from strategy and engineering has been in meetings. so who’s your source?” came her second question. you picked up your pace, under the guise of trying to get to the canteen quicker.

she had a habit of taking just enough time to respond to carlos’ messages to keep him guessing whether she actually would respond at all. it wasn’t entirely her fault, carlos realised; she’d apologised for earlier, explaining that she was busy driving. of course she was, how could he be such an idiot? maybe a part of him was hoping that she’d been acting coy, teasing him by waiting, purposefully trying to keep him on the edge of his seat.

carlos saw her enter the canteen, watched with a small, self satisfied smirk as her face fell, the rattan shelf where the brie and bacon toasties had been, now depressingly empty. he left it just long enough so that she was forced to consider which disappointing option to go for instead, before finally calling her over.

“Y/N!” carlos called, watching as her head whipped round, and he had to stifle a laugh at her confusion. he waved her over.

“sorry, I was stuck in a meeting.” she sighed, her voice slightly breathless. had she ran here? he fought back the urge to tease her about it, shaking his head slightly.

“don’t worry about it.” he replied, gesturing to the seat beside him as he spoke. her eyes lit up when her gaze fell on the plate on the table, in just the way he’d pictured in his head. god, he’d never get over the way the simple things pleased her, and he didn’t mean that in a bad way. over the past couple of months that he’d known her, carlos had learned that the little things really mattered, in a way that was almost rare in this environment. she looked upon a brie and bacon sandwich like it was the sun that shined, and if she’d have looked up at carlos in that moment, she’d have seen that he was looking at her in the exact same way.

“is that for me?”

“no.” carlos replied, deadpan. she shot him a look, her face screwed up in a pout that he’d grown more accustomed to the more he teased her like this. eventually he let out a soft chuckle, as a way to say I’m only joking, of course it’s for you, and she sat down in the seat next to him with a playful scowl, which only caused him to laugh more.

“thanks, carlos. you’re the best.” she told him through a mouthful of brie, bacon and toasted bread.

“I know.” he replied, a cheeky grin dancing across his face. “it was the last one as well.”

“amy’s gonna be pissed.” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder to watch as her colleague was forced to settle for regular ham and cheese.

a podium finish to p13. was it worse to fail because of your own shortcomings or because of something that was out of your control? if you’d asked carlos sainz right now, he would think about it for a moment, and then tell you to vete a la mierda.*

his phone screen lighting up in the darkness was the only thing that brought his attention to how dark it had become in his hotel room. christ, how long had he been sat there, staring at the wall, trying to process how frustrated and angry and upset he was? he’d put his phone on silent, tired of all the commiseratory messages that had been coming through, but apparently his bedtime reminder didn’t obey the laws of do not disturb. sighing, he unlocked the device, and quickly scanned down the many notifications he had been ignoring for the past few hours. one stood out above all the rest, because of course it did. he felt guilt clutch him as he noticed the message from well over an hour ago. from her.not only guilty at the fact that he’d not seen her message, but for some reason guilty for perceiving that he’d let her down at her home race. it was stupid, he knew, to feel that way - it wasn’t his fault that his tyre had blown out with just a few laps to go, but he knew how excited she’d been for her first ever british gp, and it had all ended in disappointment. his fingers hovered over the keyboard at the bottom of his phone for a moment, a million different emotions whizzing round in his head, bouncing off the sides like a demented pinball machine. no wonder he had a headache. he drew in a sharp breath before typing out his reply.

*I’m hoping this means somewhat akin to ‘fuck off’

you’d almost forgotten that you’d sent carlos sainz a message of commiseration, which was shocking considering how long you’d been deliberating over it only a mere hour ago. you were back in your own bed in your hometown, seeing no need to stick around seeing as there would be no celebrations this weekend, and carlos had disappeared as soon as the team debrief had ended, making it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. which made it all the more surprising when you leaned over to your bedside table, bleary eyes blinking back sleep as your vision adjusted to the pitch black of your room, to pick up the phone which had woken you from your sleep.

your eyes blinked again against the harsh light of the phone, taking a moment to focus on the big bold numbers on your lockscreen. 01:03? who was texting you at this time? eyebrows knitted together in an increasingly deep frown, you scanned carlos’ message. as was becoming customary, you read it several times over, this time to check whether you’d read it right. why would he want to ring you, at this time of night as well? your mind started to reach for wild possibilities - was he in trouble? hurt? worse?

before he changed his mind, carlos hit the telephone symbol next to her contact details.

“Carlos, are you okay?” her voice came through almost immediately, sounding equal parts panicked yet somehow sleepy. shit, not only had he caused her to worry, he’d probably just woken her up in the middle of the night as well. what kind of dickhead rings a colleague that he’s only known for a few months at 1am? he cleared his throat.

“fuck, sorry, I woke you up.”

“don’t worry about it, I was awake.” she replied. a blatant lie, but carlos appreciated the attempt to make him feel better. 

“can I help you with something?” she continued, still sounding concerned. he shook his head even though she couldn’t see.

“yes, no. fuck, I don’t know.” he growled at himself for being so confused, so confusing, for not even really knowing why he’d called her. was he going insane, or did he just hear a soft sigh on the other end of the line? he squeezed his eyes shut, collecting himself to try again, but she beat him to it. 

“I’m sorry about today, carlos, it must be tough to deal with.”

sometimes it felt like she knew him better than he knew himself. he dragged a hand down his face.

“yeah, I’m- it’s not great.” he stumbled over his words slightly, his voice catching in his throat. usually he’d be reluctant to show this vulnerability, embarrassed even, but something about the late hour combined with how oh-so-soft her voice was… it made him forget his pride for just that moment. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” he admitted, feeling a ramble coming on but equally feeling powerless to stop it. “I know that it was a problem with the tyre, I know that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. and then there’s always a part of me that wonders whether there was anything that I could’ve done. like, maybe if I’d driven less aggressively or something, or changed the way I braked around a certain corner. I still feel like I’ve let myself down, let the team down, let you dow-“

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” her abrupt reply broke him from his monologue, stopping him in his tracks and allowing him to fill his lungs with air, not realising how out of breath he was becoming with his run-on sentences.

“what?” came his soft reply. he’d heard perfectly clearly what she’d said the first time. but a part of him needed to hear it again.

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” she repeated, with the same clarity, the same sincerity, the same low tone that he’d never heard from her before that made her sound so wise beyond her years.

“you didn’t let anyone down. this wasn’t your fault. I know it doesn’t make it any less frustrating or easier to deal with - there’s nothing I can say that will change that. but please, please don’t blame yourself for any part of it.”

there was silence on both ends for a moment, before carlos let out a long sigh.

“I- yeah, I guess you’re right.” there was something still on his mind, something that one am carlosknew that one pm carlos would never want to talk about, least of all burden his race engineer with it. but that was all the more reason to say it now.

“I just feel so much pressure to perform, now that I have the ferrari contract.” his voice dropped even lower as he spoke, as if whispering it quietly enough could make it not be true. “I feel like I have to earn my place there, you know?”

“carlos, you were P-fucking-3.” 

something about the way she stressed the syllables made carlos chuckle despite himself, and from the way she let out a small giggle on the other end of the phone, he guessed that that had been her intention all along. 

“anyone can see that you’ve earned that seat at ferrari. you’ve proved that time and time again already. this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you, and what you believe you deserve. the only person you need to convince is yourself.”

carlos chuckled again, feeling some sort of playful nature already coming back to him. maybe he’d finally figured out why he wanted to call her in the middle of the night, maybe it was even the reason he wanted her number in the first place. maybe it was because he knew that no matter how crappy he was feeling, talking to her always seemed to turn the day around. she always seemed to make him smile.

“very inspirational.” he replied, his tone almost teasing over her ‘believing in yourself’ speech. the corners of his lips curved upwards as he could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end.

“this is what I get for trying to be nice.” she muttered, but her tone was light, reciprocating the teasing. carlos smiled, his first genuine smile in several hours. probably since the last time he’d seen her.

“thank you, really. talking to you it… it always puts me in a better mood.” carlos confessed, glad that this was a phone call so she couldn’t see the way his cheeks lit up a soft shade of pink.

“anytime, carlos.” 

when they eventually hung up the call, carlos felt lighter than he had in weeks, like she’d melted all his problems away with her soft voice and warm heart. he slept easy that night. meanwhile, she was now wide awake.

you groaned when the sound of your phone pinging dragged you from your admittedly tumultuous sleep. it had been difficult to drift off again after that call with carlos, a million thoughts buzzing around your brain like a swarm of bees on cocaine. you felt bad for carlos, sure, but that wasn’t enough to keep you awake on its own. there was another feeling there; if you were to flip through an oxford english dictionary until you found a word that summed it up you might settle for ‘intrigued’. 

you were intrigued that carlos that had decided to ring you of all people last night; surely he had family, or at the very least close friends, that he would rather turn to? but you were also intrigued by your own reaction - why were you feeling so warm and fuzzy that carlos had chosen you, the knowledge that when he was feeling low you were the one he wanted to hear on the other end of the line creating some sort of feeling in your heart, like someone was squeezing it not-quite-too tightly?

it was these questions, and an incessant amount of bin lorries driving past at 5am, that kept you from falling back asleep, and were the reason that you were grumbling now, as you reached over to pick up your phone. the grumbling ceased the moment you read the message and saw who it was from, replaced by a softly murmured ‘oh’, and that strange feeling in your chest again.

as always feedback and comments are welcomed with massive appreciation and open arms! a second part is written and will be out soonish! much love, Katie x

[discount-shades]

Contract Spouse Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Realizations

A/N: This is a sad one. I've written Chapter 9 and only one chapter left to write!

Pairing: Jake Seresin/Reader (nicknamed Pip)

Warning:  Angst, death of civilians, war, PTSD

Length: 3000ish

Summary: Jake does some thinking and we find out why he is like that.

Previous     Masterlist     Next

“What we need are those veterinary gloves that come up to your shoulder.” You have a roll of tape out and combined with elastics and a small garbage bag you are trying to waterproof Jake’s cast. After finally being released from the hospital after 4 days, Jake is in desperate need of a shower. “Then you could use your hand. I’m going to order some from Amazon.”

“Why do vets need gloves that come up to their shoulder?” Jake watches you struggle to carefully tape the edges of the bag to the skin of his arm, fighting with the extra plastic.

“You know the long gloves Ellie wears when she digs in the dino poop looking for West Indian Lilac in Jurassic Park?” Jake blinks at you in confusion, trying to remember. “Vets wear them for a similar reason.”

“Eww.” Jake checks the seal around the tape job you did. “How do you even know that?”

“Remember when I dated a farm boy in university?” Jake nods. He remembers thinking the kid wasn’t good enough for you. “Well in those two months we were together I went and helped them when they preg checked their cows.” You give him a little half grin, “I learned I am not cut out for farm life.” 

You start the shower for him before carefully helping him remove his shirt. You wince when you see the bruises crossing his torso from the seatbelt harness of his jet. The brush of your fingers, featherlight over the bruises, burns before you abruptly leave the bathroom, telling him to call if he needs help. 

Jake sighs and finishes stripping before getting under the spray. Everything hurts and the concussion makes him feel like he is in a fog. His head is a constant dull throb and what he really wants to do is lie down and sleep some more. He holds his left arm hand up at a right angle and does his best to shower mostly one handed. 

Pulling a shirt on seems too difficult so he walks into the bedroom half dressed. You've pulled the curtains, so it is dark and he collapses into the clean sheets. A water bottle and his painkillers lined up neatly on his end table, as well as a few protein bars. 

You’ve thought of everything, you always do, but you seem different since the accident and he can’t figure it out. Every time he tries to think his head begins to ache. You are more clinical, less warm. Maybe it is because he is injured, maybe he is imagining it. 

He thinks back to the morning of the crash. Remembers waking up with you in his arms, how good it felt to hold you and talk to you. The hospital had been so lonely when they wouldn’t let you stay overnight. 

He wanted you to stay in California. He wanted to come home and have you there to talk to, he could always call you before, but living with you was better. He loved watching movies together, cooking together, cleaning, and grocery shopping. Every mundane task was better with you.

He couldn’t ask you to stay. He was too much of a mess. He couldn’t sleep and the guilt of what happened was always there. You didn’t deserve to be pulled into that. He was sure that you would stay if he asked. You and your misguided sense of duty and the belief that you owed him something. But if he asked then he would have to tell you and if he told you you would never look at him the same way.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he notices is your voice calling to him gently. His eyes flitter open and he can see you sitting on the edge of the bed. You are beautiful in the light filtering from the hall, and in that moment you take his breath away. “Doctor says you should be up and moving, so come have dinner.” 

When you go to leave he curls his good hand around your arm and revels in the feel of your soft skin sliding through his fingers. When he thinks you are about to slip your hand through his fingers you catch his palm and give a gentle tug and he feels himself following you automatically. 

“This can’t be what you are used to.” You say with a grin as you grab a shirt and help him into it. “Women are probably more keen to take your shirt off.”

“I’ll do anything if it's with you, pretty girl.” The words leave his lips before he can comprehend what he has said. Your sharp inhale makes him want to kick himself. Why did he say that? He never flirted with you. It was a line he refused to cross. 

He can see the flustered look on your face as you stand to go. “Come on flyboy, you must be hard up if you are flirting with me.” He follows you down the hall to the table. That wasn’t completely fair. Why wouldn't he flirt with you? If you weren't his wife he definitely would have tried to pick you up in a bar. 

That evening as you lie down beside him in bed you turn to him. “We have our first meeting with the couples therapist tomorrow, he wants to meet us separately first.” Jake had forgotten about the marriage counseling. “I think we should just say we want to keep our relationship strong, and I don't know, talk about how adjusting to living together is a challenge or something.” He just mumbles an agreement. 

Jake has no idea how the two of you are going to sell being married to a professional. He thinks of all the ways this might go as you slowly drift off to sleep beside him. Once he can hear your steady breathing his mind starts to slow and as he falls asleep he rolls over so he is curled around you. 

When he wakes the next morning he slides his arm across the bed feeling for your warmth but the sheets are cool. You are already gone.  When he gets up he finds you making omelets in the kitchen. 

“The contractor is going to be finishing up the repairs in the ceiling of my room today,” you tell him as you add the cheese. “You will have your bed back, free of my cold toes tonight.” 

“Oh, ok.” Jake doesn't know what to think and it takes him a moment to realize he is disappointed. Last night was the last time he would sleep with you in his arms. He thinks about all the times he left you in the mornings. He shouldn't have run away. He could have just rolled back to his side of the bed and talked to you on those mornings, now he would never get the option. 

You drive to the counselor’s and he spends his time in the passenger seat fighting his motion sickness. It's your turn first and you give him a worried look as you go, as he sits in the waiting room trying to get his head to stop spinning. If he says something wrong in the counselor's office he will just blame it on the concussion. 

When it is his turn you squeeze his hand as you trade spots. He can't help himself as he pulls you into a hug. Jake presses his lips to your hairline. He should hug you more, he thinks. 

You rarely initiate physical affection more than holding hands, and hug only on special occasions. He likes the feel of you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo, and the warmth of your skin. The way you melt into him is overwhelming before you pull away.

The session went well. A mixture of the truth and agreed upon lies slip easily off his tongue. At the end of the session Jake is given the same homework that you received.  

“I want you to come up with a list of all the reasons you are in love with your wife.”

The homework is a fixture in his mind over the next few days. Jake can’t figure out why he keeps repeating the counselor's words in his head. He lists the reasons he loves you. You are smart, funny, tough as hell, your kindness, you are supportive, you are so easy to talk to and you always know what to say, you call him on his bullshit. You are capable. 

He stares at the words he has written and feels they are not personal enough to sell it. You are beautiful, your smile makes his stomach clench, your laughter, you feel so good in his arms, how you being in his life made everything better. He stares at his list as the words play over in his head, ‘reasons you are in love with your wife.’

Jake drops the pen and buries his face in his hands as the realization hits him. “Fuck.” He is in love with you. When did that happen? Was it before you moved in or is it a recent thing? Sometime during the first or second year of the marriage he noticed he loved you. But it had always felt so platonic, a love of friendship, of convenience, and connection.

You have always been beautiful, and, if he was honest with himself, he had always been attracted to you, but with the nature of your relationship he had always locked those thoughts and feelings away. You were untouchable. But in the last month with you sleeping in his bed everything blurred. It didn’t matter when he fell in love, the only thing that mattered was that he is completely and irrevocably in love with you now. 

It is weird to feel terrible about an emotion considered so positive. Jake stares at the closed door to the office where you are working from home. He can never tell you. You had only stayed married due to his inability to process his trauma. 

He felt tainted, like you being with him would somehow mark you too. He didn't deserve you, he didn’t deserve anything good. And he loved you too much to let you be ruined by him. He wouldn't let you give up your life and the love you deserve. Because you need someone who is in love with you unconditionally, someone good. 

The day he had agreed to marry you had told him that you would always be there for him and he had taken advantage of that over the years. Taken advantage of your kindness and good heart. Someone as good and kind as you would never stay married to him. He could never tell you he loved you. He wouldn’t be that guy, the man who thought he was owed something just because he had feelings for a woman. He would let you go even if it killed him. 

– – –

Sleeping next to you didn’t stop the nightmares. They always came at the same frequency, mild ones a few times a week and the bad ones every week or so. What sleeping next to you did was calm him when he woke. Your breaths and the warmth of your skin would ground his mind and bring him back to the present like nothing else could. 

Before you he would never get back to sleep after a nightmare. He would go for a run or go to the 24h gym. He sometimes would mindlessly watch tv or stare at his phone until it was an acceptable hour to get up. In the weeks after the concussion he couldn’t do that. Strenuous activity and screen time were two of the things the doctor told him to avoid. 

Most nights he would just lay in bed. He had tried audio books but he could not focus on them. So he would lie there in the dark thinking about you, and everything that he loved about you, and torturing himself. 

His post concussion nightmares were more intense than any he had before but he still hadn't had a bad one yet. He could feel it coming. Lack of sleep and anxiety tended to trigger the nightmares. Stress also played a role and the night before the second marriage counseling session it hit him. 

Jake’s heart is pounding as he sits up in bed struggling to breath. The nightmares are rarely the same and his mind alway finds ways for his dreams to be somehow worse than what had happened, combining events and reimagining others. 

You died tonight. The person he had killed was you, and even though he logically knew you were fine he needed to check on you. Stumbling, eyes bleary, he walks to your room and pushes open the door. The smell of new paint and construction is almost gone. Leaning on the door frame Jake can see you sleeping and he takes in the sight. 

If he holds his breath and listens he can faintly hear you breathing from the doorway and he can’t help the muffled sob that slips past his lips. You stir and he bites his lips to keep from waking you but it is too late.

“Jake?” You lean up and look at him. “You ok?” he gives a jerky nod, unable to open his mouth. Afraid he would begin sobbing if he did. “Another nightmare?” He doesn’t know how you can tell. Maybe it is written on his face. 

“Come here,” your voice is soft and you open your arms and beckon to him and he is moving his feet before he can think about it. Jake collapses on top of the covers and into your arms, head pillowed on your chest listening to your heartbeat. His eyes flutter closed as you rake your fingers through his hair and down his back. Your gentle movements calm him and steady his mind but soon it is not enough. There are too many layers between you. 

He sits up and motions to the covers. “Can I?” he asks hesitantly, wanting to be able to hold you without the blanket between you. You nod and he slips beneath the covers and returns to his position with his head on your chest. Your hands resume their motions carding through his hair and stroking his back.

It’s still not enough. He sits abruptly and takes his shirt off before lying back down, slotting his body between your thighs and his head on your stomach this time. He needs to feel your skin pressed against his. He eases your shirt up so he can rest his cheek against your stomach. He can hear your sharp inhale but you don't say anything and for that he is grateful. You just go back to smoothing your hands over his bare skin. He doesn’t know how long he lays there with you beneath him, his hands curl around your rib cage as his thumbs smooth over your soft skin. 

After a while of your hands moving over him he feels you pause. “If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” He shakes his head in denial, not wanting you to know. But when he feels your nails scratch his scalp and drag down his neck he starts talking. 

“You know the military severely under-reports civilian deaths, right?” There is no change in you. Your hands keep moving in the same rhythm and your breathing is steady. “Every time we drop bombs we kill people and there is a chance we kill civilians. Mostly we don’t think about it. It is easier to drink the kool-aid. Accept the Navy’s narrative. But if you watch the news from other countries they will report it; show videos of civilians killed by American bombs.”

Jake stops talking, wanting you to respond, hoping you don’t. Looking for a clue to stop talking. You don’t give him one so he continues. “I shot another plane down, the first air-to-air kill in three decades. The Navy pinned a medal on me.'' Now that he was talking he couldn’t stop. The words he had never spoken to anyone pouring out. “No one mentioned that after I shot the jet it crashed into this community building. There were families inside. Sixteen people were killed, nine of them were children.

“They gave me a fucking medal for killing children. I saw the footage, the crashed jet and the injured people. There was this man carrying his dead son and I can’t get that out of my head.” Jake feels you shift and he raises his head to look at you but all you do is place a gentle kiss on his forehead before lying back down and resuming your motions. 

“Please hate me.” He doesn't know why he says it; why he needs you to condemn him. As if your condemnation will justify everything he feels.

“No,” you say simply.

“Why not?” he can feel a sob building in his chest. “I fucking deserve it. How can you just learn all that about me and not care?” 

“Javy told me years ago,” you confess, “actually I suspected. It was on the news that an American Navy pilot shot down a plane and what happened, I knew you were stationed in the area and you changed whenever we talked after, so I figured it was you and Javy confirmed it when I asked.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jake had been keeping his knowledge and shame bottled up away from you for so long; not wanting to change the way you saw him and to find out you had always known was gutting. 

“I knew you would tell me when you were ready.” 

“You should hate me,” Jake hates the way he sounds. Small, meek, hesitant. “I hate me.”

“I hate that it happened. It breaks my heart for those families, but I can’t hate you for it. You are responsible, but not culpable.” You say simply.

“Then who is to blame if not me?” You don’t have an answer for him, he knows there isn’t one, at least not an answer that will make him feel better. Some things you just have to live with. The tears start to flow down Jake's cheeks in ugly sobs as you pull him closer. He clings to you and finally lets himself grieve. 

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 1 | S.R

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When you find a handsome cowboy in need of assistance at the side of the road you make the decision to help him, despite the personal risk.

A/N - just pretend for me that the episode Rusty took place before Believer and 300.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - some direct quotes taken from 15.07 Rusty, vague mentions of the events in 13.22 Believer and 14.01 300, depiction of injuries, Spencer’s intrusive thoughts, swearing.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

He’d watched the sun ebb across the sky, from where it began at its midday position directly overhead, scoring laboriously down, not impeded by a cloud in the expanse of blue. 

He witnessed it leisurely recede across the stratosphere, edging lower and lower on its slow descent towards the horizon. With each passing hour the heat dwindled, the sweat that had gathered on his temples and forehead was drying and crusting against his skin. 

The earth beneath him started to cool, unhurriedly, or perhaps he just got used to the temperature which seeped through the layers, beneath the denim of his shirt, further permeating his t-shirt until it scorched the skin of his back. 

The black stetson, which was originally used to cover his eyes from the assault of the sun, was now resting on his chest. 

It started growing darker around a half hour ago at his estimate and it wouldn’t be long before the darkness encompassed him, literally but maybe even figuratively too. 

Maybe out here on this isolated stretch of desert miles outside of town, would be where former FBI

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid would meet his end. 

His heavy and tired eyes fluttered. He’d tried to fight it for hours now, desperate to stay awake in case a car passed by on the baron road. In all the hours he laid there, not a single one had. And now it was getting dark, the likelihood of a car even seeing him from the road was slim. 

He gave over to it, closing his eyes as his fingers drummed against the dusty ground beneath him. He was taken back to a conversation of years passed, he could practically hear the thrum of the jet's engine as she spoke. 

“All this talk of alternate realities, where do you think you’d be in a parallel universe? You know, one of your imagined futures?” Jennifer tucked the blanket tighter around her body, the BAU jet’s AC up high. 

Spencer closed his book while his eyebrows furrowed in curious contemplation at his friend's question. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Come on,” she gave him an almost knowing look. “If you weren’t an FBI Agent, what would you do?”

Spencer inhaled through his nose, the cool air tickling his sinuses before puffing the breath back out. 

He glanced over his shoulder, then over JJ’s to check no one else was within ear shot. 

“Promise not to laugh…?” He asked and she nodded slowly with a twitch at her lip. “A cowboy.” 

He could still see the look of amusement coupled with confusion at his admittance. The way she couldn’t quite contain her smile, but also the way her forehead crinkled. 

“A cowboy?” She repeated, as though doing so might help her make sense of his words. 

“Yeah. I’d, uh, you know, have some horses, a few cattle; be surrounded by nature.” A slightly dreamy look washed over him. 

Even now laying in the dirt as the sun set that same smile appeared on his grossly chapped lips. Even as his mind succumbed to the idea that he was to die out here, he couldn’t hold back. 

Since he was a little boy he’d been oddly fascinated by cowboys and the old west. He was just five years old the first time his mother had read him The Log of a Cowboy, a nineteen-oh-three novel by Andy Adams. 

The story followed the journey of young Tommy Moore, who is helping drive three thousand circle-dot longhorns along the Great Western Cattle Trail from Brownsville, Texas to Montana. It was written, he discovered at a later age, as Adams' response to unrealistic cowboy novels that were being penned at the time. 

Spencer had clung to the normalcy of it. He’d never had a regular life, and knew most likely that he never would given his unusually high IQ. 

Something about that tale had stuck with him his whole life. He kept the idea at the back of his mind, wondering if one day, once he retired, he might seek to find a piece of that which was spoken of in Adams' story.

“And what would you do with cattle?” JJ’s lip was still twitching, curling up a little at the corner as she imagined her straight-laced, suit-wearing best friend as a cowboy.

“You know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em…I hadn’t really thought about that. But I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. 

“Wow, I was…I was not expecting that.” She sat back in her chair, nodding somewhat appeasingly. A part of her could picture it, no matter how far-fetched the concept seemed. 

After everything Spencer had dealt with in his life, maybe being a cowboy was the change of pace he so sorely needed. 

He’d gone on to tell her how he envisioned the team there, even in his parallel universe they were still special to him, just as close as they were now. He spoke of how JJ ran a flower shop on Hickory Street with the boys helping out after school. Will was also there, an old-timey sheriff who protected the townspeople from trouble. 

Rossi ran the saloon, where most of said trouble occurred. Penelope had a sanctuary for wounded animals, Alvez was a rancher. Simmons was a blacksmith while Tara and Emily owned the only hotel in town. 

They were all happy in this timeline. Apart from the odd bar fight at Rossi’s, his make believe town was safe from all the evils of the world. He and his friends could live out simple lives, not to be perturbed by serial killers and rapists and the like. 

But it was all conjecture, an innocent fantasy created in Spencer’s head of what he imagined his life could have been like. But in reality he was an agent of the law, he’d taken an oath to protect and serve. His alternate universe was nothing more than that. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The final straw, the last nail in the coffin of his illustrious career, was Benjamin Merva. After nearly dying at the hands of the cult leader, he knew it was the end for him. 

With Merva’s blade at his throat, he remembered thinking, I can’t do this anymore. Two weeks later he stood in Emily Prentiss’ office handing her his resignation. 

It briefly crossed his mind to teach full time. He’d been working more and more at Marlborough over the last few years and they’d always told him if he ever decided to leave the BAU there was a permanent position for him there.

But the thought had been short lived, barely a blip on his radar. And somehow he circled back to that conversation with JJ a few months prior to his abduction by the cult. 

None of his former teammates could wrap their heads around the idea of Doctor Spencer Reid moving to live on the outskirts of Bandera, a small town fifty three miles outside of San Antonio, Texas. 

He spent nearly his entire life savings on a ranch with almost sixty acres of land. It consisted of a single story wooden lodge in which he would live, fitted with a wrap-around porch for which he pictured himself relaxing in a rocker whilst watching the sunset over the rolling hills in the distance. It included a large barn, outhouse and stables, as well as a second, smaller lodge which was also habitable. 

He equipped his own lodge minimally, a couch, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and some bookshelves. He had the bare minimum kitchen appliances due to his inability to cook and his unwillingness to learn. 

He brought a whole new closet full of clothes more appropriate for the setting. Crisp, pressed shirts were replaced by denims, flannels and plain tees, his converse and dress shoes were tossed in lieu of sturdy work and riding boots. 

On behalf of a car, he brought a horse, a beautiful three year old, blue roan American Quarter Horse named Willow and to begin with purchased two cattle.

Now two years later he had four more cattle and two more horses. These two were stallions, both American Quarters, one black named Franklin and one brown called Wilbur. 

Somewhere not too far away was the sound of hooves padding around in the dirt and the occasional huff of impatience from the large beast. Spencer’s eyes opened again and he cautiously rolled his head to the side in the dust. His eyes met the cloven hooves and thick blue-grey legs of his trusty steed. 

“Willow,” he spoke, causing another huff of air to leave her mouth. “A dog, I should have gotten a dog. Lassie would be of much better use right now.” 

Willow cantered around him, as though frustrated herself that they were still here after all these hours. She’d nudged him a few times in his ribs with her muzzle, silently asking her owner what was going on. 

This was supposed to be a safer alternative to working at the BAU. After almost having his hyoid bone claimed by Merva he’d decided he’d put himself in harm's way for long enough. 

But upon travelling back to town after taking Willow for a morning saunter into nearby Pipe Creek, he’d come across a wild horse at the side of the road. 

The mare didn’t appear, on first glance, to be injured in any way but she was certainly a little skittish as he approached. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay before going on his way. 

She was a flaxen and elegant beauty. Her chestnut-red coat billowed like a flame under the blazing sun and her golden-blonde mane like a wild halo as she galloped around in haste. 

As he neared her on Willow’s back, his own steed seemed to agitate the other and she started to buck and neigh in fright. Not to be easily perturbed he tried to calm her with a series of “whoa girls,” and gentle pats of her back. 

But then the wild horse let out a piercing sound, her back legs lifting effortlessly off of the ground and kicking Willow in the neck. 

Willow herself had bucked at the impact, her front legs rising. Unprepared, he hadn’t been holding her reins and one foot hung at her side out of its stirrup, causing Spencer to slide back on her saddle. 

He quickly tried to grab hold of something but coordination had never been his strong suit. It had taken him months worth of lessons to even be able to ride a horse and although he was an efficient rider now, it hadn’t improved his motor skills. 

And so he slid, and he continued to slide as Willow raised herself on her haunches until she was almost vertical. His one foot was still in the stirrup, and as he fell his knee twisted with force, the same knee he’d been shot in so many years ago. 

He swore he felt the tendons ripping beneath his skin and he screamed out in pain whilst trying to dislodge his foot. Once freed he flew to the ground, back slamming into the dirt with a thud and a groan. 

He glanced up, pain searing through his body as Willow lowered herself back to the earth. The second horse was galloping wildly, still screeching out in fear. Willow approached it and Spencer groaned out, not wanting his own steed to be hurt by this out of control creature.

As expected, the wild horse bucked at Willow again but Willow trotted out of her way this time. Spencer slithered a hand out into the dirt, clicking his fingers at his mare to come to his aid. But instead of his own horse, it garnered the attention of the wild beast who suddenly ran at him with a fearsome gait. 

He heard the bone in his arm crunching under the weight of the creature's heavy hoof as it galloped over his outstretched limb. He screamed loudly, the sound getting no further than the lonesome desert and petering out into nothing. 

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

If Spencer Reid screams out in pain in the desert and no one is around to hear him, is he going to die alone?

He still had his old cell phone, he only kept it at Penelope’s insistence at being able to get in touch with him, check he was doing okay living the life of a hermit. He only used it to speak with his old team and as such, didn’t often take it out with him. 

Right now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, next to his empty coffee mug and the book he’d been reading over breakfast. And now due to the oversight, he would no doubt die out here.

Willow trotted a little closer, bowed her head near to the ground and nudged Spencer in the ribs again, as if this might make him miraculously stand up and take her home. 

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. “Shoulda got a dog. Man’s best friend, that’s what Alvez always said.” 

Willow simply nudged him again and he rolled his tired and sore eyes. 

Gritting his teeth, he decided to try and sit again. He braced his forearms against the ground, trying to turn a blind eye to the pain that rippled through his left extremity at the small movement. There was almost certainly a bone broken, maybe more than one. 

Attempting to ignore the way the pain spread up and down his arm, causing a fire to burn through his entire upper body, he pushed himself against the dirt in an attempt to sit up right. The throbbing in his arm combined with the swell of discomfort down his spine made another booming groan erupt from his lungs and he moved no more than a few inches off the ground before, panting with the exertion, he fell back against the dirt.

Even if he was to get into a sitting position, he had no doubts that he wouldn’t make it any further. Without looking he knew his knee was swollen, ballooned up so much it was now pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to walk even if he could stand. 

“Well, Willow, I guess this is the end of the road.” He closed his eyes, folding his good arm across his chest and leaving the other in the dirt at his side. “It’s ironic really, all those years at the BAU, all those times I thought I might die. This is not how I expected to meet my death.”

He felt oddly resided to this fate, almost feeling some kind of twisted relief. There really was no point in panicking, there was nothing he could do. 

May as well lean into it, let it happen. 

Keeping his eyes closed he breathed out through his nose, accepting that this was the way his life came to an end. They’d probably never even find his body and if they did it would be too scavenged by vultures to make a positive ID. Probably for the best, he couldn't imagine Garcia or JJ or any of the others having to identify his decomposed and ravaged remains.

He felt himself drifting swiftly, the heat and lack of hydration making him implausibly sleepy. He didn’t fight it, he let the tiredness wash over him. But before he could succumb entirely, his ears pricked at a sound off in the distance. 

His eyes shot open once more and he tried to turn his head towards the road beyond the desert. If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard the sound of tires on the gritty asphalt.

***

It was getting dark and you felt your eyes growing increasingly heavier. You’d been driving for hours, days in fact, stopping only for gas and to stock up on snacks and energy drinks. 

Thinking of which, you loosened one hand from the steering wheel and reached blindly for the can sitting in the cup holder. Your hand wrapped around the lukewarm metal cylinder and brought it to your lips without taking your eyes off of the road. 

The liquid was warmer than the can itself and you grimaced as it trickled down your throat. Grumbling under your breath you replaced the can in the cup holder and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. 

You were heading for the border via desert roads and inconspicuous towns. You needed to lay low until you reached Mexico where you could keep your head down, keep your nose close to the ground. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t meant to end this way. Your plan had gone wrong somewhere along the line and now you had to keep driving, until you reached your destination. 

You were tired to your bones, the dull ache from driving countless miles seeping deep into every muscle. But you couldn’t stop. You had the push through and keep going no matter how exhausted you were. 

You found yourself on a long stretch of desert road after passing through a small town, its signage declaring it Pipe Creek, Texas. The AC rattled through the car, almost blocking out the hum from the radio. 

You couldn’t afford to use a GPS system, if you knew where you were others could know where you were too. You’d brought an old paper map early into your journey and if your bearings were correct you should be passing through the town of Bandera within a few miles. 

You stifled a yawn and despite your better judgement, took another sip of the warm energy drink. It wasn’t warding off the tiredness, only making your heart thump heavily and a little erratically in your chest.

You stifled yet another yawn, eyes closing for a fraction of a second longer than was safe but the road thus far had been desolate. 

However, upon opening your eyes there was suddenly a large and imposing creature standing several feet in front of your speeding car. 

Your eyes grew wide and you slammed on the brake, the speed in which you’d been travelling forcing the vehicle to spin a little on its axis, gravel crunching under tires. 

You tugged on the wheel as the car turned to the right, trying to straighten up as you came to a sudden and screeching halt. You breathed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the huge beast through your windscreen in the glow of your headlights. 

The horse blinked several times at you, as though trying to convey a message but it remained on the road. 

You exhaled loudly, keeping the engine running so as to keep the lights on, you threw open the door and stepped onto the asphalt. 

“Where the fuck did you come from?” You glared at the horse, not daring to come too close in case it was vicious. 

The horse blinked a few more times before bowing its head towards the side of the road. You frowned at it, watching it slowly canter in the direction it nodded. 

“Okay, good.” You nodded with a frown as it walked off. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you, you crazy horse.” 

As you turned back to your open door, over the sound of gravel crunching beneath the horses hooves, your ears picked up on another sound. 

Turning back to where the horse had meandered, you squinted into the darkness, focusing your hearing. 

“H-help? Please?” A crackly voice met your ears. 

A shiver passed up your spine, suddenly on high alert. 

“Is someone there?” You called back, not daring to move away from your vehicle. 

“P-please? I’m really hurt.” The voice came again. 

The horse had stopped walking now, you could just make out its figure in the dark. To its left was another figure laying in the dirt. 

“Uh, you okay?” You called again, still not daring to come closer. 

You didn’t trust this situation, you were a naturally suspicious person and this didn’t sit right with you. The horse had been used to get you to stop and you had no doubts if you were to go over to this person who claimed they needed help you’d find yourself in grave danger. 

“No I’m not okay!” The voice grew exasperated. “I fell off my horse. I’m fairly certain I’ve broken my arm and twisted my knee. I can’t move.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, huddling against the side of the car.

“No offence mister, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying to you?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“No! I swear! I’m a…” he trailed off and sucked in a breath. I’m a what? What did he plan on saying? I’m an FBI Agent? It had been years since he’d left the BAU but the habit to announce himself as such still lived inside of him. “I’m in a great deal of pain.” 

You clutched yourself tighter, rolling your lip between your teeth in silent contemplation. He did sound in pain, but he could have just been a good actor. 

“Look, I’m really not itching to get murdered tonight and I’m kinda in a hurry.” You scuffed the toe of your sneaker in the dirt. 

“You can’t leave me here!” The voice begged. “You’re the first car to pass in hours! I need to go to the hospital.” 

“I…I really have to go.” You shuffled towards the open car door. 

“So you’re just going to leave me here to die?” The voice turned sour. “Because that’s what will happen. If I don’t die of dehydration or starvation, I will undoubtedly be eaten alive by all manner of animals that live out here. Hell, my horse will probably turn against me if she’s not fed soon. Do you really want that on your conscience?” 

You grumbled under your breath, looking between the car and the shadowy figure on the ground. With a huff you spun towards the vehicle and climbed onto your knees on the driver's seat. Reaching across the central console you popped open the glove compartment and withdrew the item sheathed inside. 

He heard you land back in the gravel before the sound of tentative footsteps getting closer. The dirt crunched under your feet, your eyes flitting between the silhouette and the horse who was ambling around. The item you’d gotten from the car was being held in both hands, pointing at the figure on the floor.

As you drew closer you started to make out some features. He appeared to be tall, even laying down, slim build with a mop of dirty curls brushing against the ground. He wore jeans, a denim shirt over a white tee and a black stetson laid on his chest. 

He blinked a couple of times as you came into view, trying to lift his head to get a better look at you. But what he saw made the colour drain from his face and his eyes bulged from his head.

“What the hell?” He tried to shuffle backwards but he couldn’t move due to the pain coursing through him. “What are you doing?” 

The barrel of a revolver was staring at him between your hands, pointing directly at his head. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he scrambled to move but his limbs were uncooperative. 

He stared down the barrel of countless guns in his time with the BAU, not to mention the fact that out in these parts many people carried shotguns. He wasn’t usually so perturbed by seeing weapons, even when they were pointing at him, but this was an exception.

“You really hurt?” You stepped a little closer until you were standing right by his booted feet. 

“Yes!” He tried to insist. “P-please put the gun away.” 

You didn’t at first, keeping it levelled at him while you gave him a once over. One of his knees was clearly swollen under the fabric of his jeans and his left arm was bent and disarticulated. He genuinely didn’t seem as though he could move. 

With a sigh you lowered the gun, tucking it in the waistband of your own jeans. Cautiously you came closer to him until you were next to his chest where you knelt in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes were piercing, a deep intense brown with flecks of gold that glistened in the moonlight. He had high cheekbones and a chiselled jawline which was peppered with a few days worth of stubble. His parted lips were plump and chapped. 

Did he have to be so attractive?

“Can you help me up?” He asked, pouting slightly. 

“I can try.” You shrugged.

Shuffling closer you placed a hand on his shoulder, using your other hand to take hold of his. He flinched a little at your touch but you assumed it was due to the pain. 

You used your grip on his shoulder to manoeuvre him, peel him away from the ground and pulled the rest of his weight using his hand. He groaned deeply as he started to be lifted, the agony evident on his tongue. 

He tried to assist you even though the movement felt like it was sending daggers down his spinal column. He used you to anchor himself, steadily pulling him into a seated position. Once he was up, you let go of him and sat back on your haunches. 

“Now what?” You asked with a curious look. 

His face was contorted from the pain, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes downturned. 

“I…I have no idea.” He groaned. “There is no way I can stand.” 

“Should I call paramedics?” You picked up his stetson which had fallen into his lap and ran your fingers along the brim.

“I think that might be wise.” He agreed, pinching his eyes closed as the pain flooded through his limbs. 

Keeping hold of his hat in one hand you drew your cell phone from your pocket and dialled 9-1-1. It was only when the phone was already to your ear that it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was. 

You’d been so careful up until now, was this handsome cowboy going to be your downfall? 

You noticed the way your voice pitched and cracked as you informed the operator of what had happened and tried to explain where exactly you were with a little help from the stranger. 

Somewhere between Pipe Creek and Bandera. You’ll see a car. And a damn horse.  

Within a few minutes you were off the phone. 

He was leaning back against his good arm, hand braced against the dirt behind him. His eyes were still closed and you saw his face twitching with each surge of pain. 

“So, uh, you new at this?” You waved the stetson in the direction of the horse who was still ambling around. 

He opened his eyes and looked between you and his trusty steed. 

“No, I just…there was this wild horse and I was trying to check to see if she was okay. She got spooked by Willow and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He closed his eyes again.

“Willow? Cute.” You smiled slightly at the great beast. “A little intimidating.” 

“She may look that way but she’s incredibly docile. Maybe a little unpredictable in new scenarios but on the whole she’s pretty placid.” His eyes squeezed tighter as another wave of pain thrummed along his spine. 

“Uh,” you continued looking between him and the horse as a thought occurred to you. “Where does she go when you get taken away to the hospital?”

His eyes opened again, landing on you in a look that told you it also hadn’t occurred to him either. 

“You, uh, know how to ride?” He tried his luck.

“No I don’t not.” You scoffed. “I’m a city girl. I know nothing about horses.” 

“She’s incredibly intelligent. She knows the way home, she just needs the impetus to get there.” Once again his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Meaning?” 

“She’ll walk beside your car, show you the way. But you’d need to feed her in order to keep her going. I can get her to do it without the treats but you’re a stranger to her.” His fingers dug into the dirt, the ache that spread up and down the length of his back was brutal. 

And then there was the pain shooting through his left arm and the throb in his old knee injury. This was not the day he had planned.

“So you’re proposing I take your horse home?” You scoffed at the ludicrousy of it. 

“She won’t make it back on her own.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but stopped short when it caused a new eruption of pain. 

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” You shook your head, still fingering the stetson.

“I’ll admit it's a little unorthodox, but I can’t leave her out here.” He forced his eyes open, pleading with you. 

“I told you, I’m really in a hurry to get somewhere.” You shook your head. “I called the paramedics, I did the good Samaritan thing. But as soon as they get here, I’ve really gotta go.” 

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Seems like that’s none of your business.” 

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” He shook his head lightly but even that caused him to wince. “It’s late is all, I was just wondering where you had to be in such a rush.” 

“Never you mind.” You grumbled. “But the sooner I get there I can finally rest. I’ve been driving for days.” 

“Do this for me and you can spend the night at my ranch.” He whined slightly as he spoke. 

“Excuse me?” You shuffled in the dirt. 

“Oh gosh,” he huffed. “Not like that. I’m not…I’m not hitting on you. I am undoubtedly going to have to spend the night in hospital, I have a spare lodge on my ranch which doesn’t get used. If you get Willow home for me, you can spend the night, you must be tired.” 

You shuffled again, still for some reason playing with his stetson in your hands in an absent mind. He was looking at you with a pleading expression, begging you to do this for him. But it all seemed too weird.

“You’re willing to let a stranger stay in your home without you even being there?” You clicked your tongue. 

“If it means Willow gets home safe, yes.” He sighed.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” You reached forward and placed the stetson atop his head gently.

“I really don’t have a lot worth stealing. I mean I have more horses and cattle…nothing really worth anything unless you're a rancher which clearly you aren’t. I’m willing to risk it.” He once again tried to shrug but groaned at the effort. 

“This is insane.” You shook your head, unbelieving you were even considering this. 

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal circumstances but I need to go to the hospital, and I also need to get Willow home. And if you continue to drive all night you’re going to end up in an accident. In a weird way it’s kinda a win-win situation.” 

“Until I rob you.” 

“You’re not gonna rob me.” For the first time a smile spread to his lips, the pain momentarily slipping away from his features. 

It was a damn nice smile, one which you were sure it was impossible to say no to. But nonetheless you tried.

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” You swallowed. 

“I'm good at reading people.” His smile grew a little. “You have a trustworthy face.” 

“Oh do I?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

“Mm hmm.” He nodded, seemingly forgetting all the pain he’d previously been in. “A very trustworthy, very pretty face.” 

You swallowed again, shuffling backwards in the dirt slightly in discomfort. Spencer averted his eyes at his omission. The pain must have been going to his head, maybe it was due to the dehydration. It was unlike him to be so bold. 

“Oh jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine, fine I’ll take your stupid horse-”

“Willow, her name is Willow.” 

“I’ll take Willow home for you and I may or may not stay at your ranch and then I may or may not rob you.” 

“And then you may or may not pick me up from the hospital in the morning? Assuming I’m allowed to leave so soon.” His smile was growing, but the pinch of pain was back in his eyes. 

“Are you for real?” You hissed. “No, no I am not doing that.” 

“I don’t have a car, and the nearest hospital is just outside of San Antonio, like forty five miles southeast of here. How do you expect me to get home?” His smile faded.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” You suddenly pushed yourself to your feet. “I don’t have time to hang around this little Podunk place. I have to be somewhere.” 

He was silent for a moment or two, looking up at you under the wide brim of his stetson. His eyes shone in the moonlight and caused your stomach to coil into knots. 

“Fine.” He spat. “Just go, sorry I bothered you. So much for that southern charm.”

“Never said I was from the south.” You rolled your eyes. 

You fell silent and in the distance you both noted the distinctive sound of sirens. Seconds later you saw the red and blues lighting up the dark stretch of road, heading in your direction. 

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

“You're off the hook, you did your good deed now you’re free to go.” The man scoffed, a sarcastic twang evident in his voice. 

“Goddamnit,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Fine, I will take your damn horse home.”

“Willow.” He corrected you and when you looked back down at him he had a mildly smug smile on his lips. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You huffed. 

Soon the ambulance was screeching to a stop next to your car and two paramedics jumped out the front of the vehicle. 

You stood aside while the cowboy, who told them his name was Spencer Reid, explained what had happened with the wild horse and how he’d ended up on the floor unable to move for hours. 

One of the paramedics got a stretcher out the back of the vehicle while the other delicately helped Spencer to lay back down in the dirt. The stretcher was brought over and lowered down as far as it would go. 

“This might hurt a little, sir.” The woman, who was near his head, spoke. 

“Mm hmm.” Spencer grit his teeth, readying himself for the pain.

The female EMT tucked her gloved hands gently under Spencer’s shoulders while the man wrapped his around Spencer’s ankles. 

You hovered near the horse - Willow - arms tucked around your waist. You curled in on yourself at the howl of pain that erupted from Spencer when he was lifted onto the stretcher. The EMT’s were quick to strap him in and lead him across the bumpy ground towards the ambulance. 

“Sorry, can you give me a minute?” His voice pierced over the sound of the wheels on gravel before they stilled.

He looked towards you and beckoned you closer with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. 

“My keys are in my right front pocket.” He cast his eyes downwards. 

You drew your lips into a tight line and huffed a little. It felt like crossing over a line diving into the pocket of a stranger but you’d moved so far past this being weird it almost seemed normal. You fished in his pocket and pulled out a loop of keys. 

“The biggest one, that’s the key to my lodge. Inside the lodge on the hook is another key for my other cabin where you can stay the night. The linen is fresh and there’s clean towels on the back of the door in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in my fridge.” He told you. 

“And how do I find it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, keys dangling from your index finger. 

“Willow will show you the way, she’s well trained. Oh, her treats!” He used his good hand to pat the pocket on his shirt.

You huffed once more, manoeuvring around the EMT’s to his other side and freeing a ziploc bag full of apple and carrot slices. 

“The stable is a little way left of my lodge, you can’t miss it. There are two other horses there, her paddock is the one on the far right. Can you take her number down?” He glanced at the paramedic nearest him. “Have someone call her when I’m discharged?” 

The paramedics clearly sensed there was a strange story here but neither wanted to ask. Instead the man reached for a clipboard tucked inside the van and handed it to you. 

It was a patient intake form and he pointed with one finger towards the emergency contact section whilst handing you a pen. 

With a sigh you took it, scrawled down your number and - without hesitation - a fake name before handing it back to him. 

“Thank you for this. I owe you one.” He offered you a meek smile. 

“Oh you owe me more than one.” You grumbled as they set about lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

You watched them load him, the man staying in the back of the cab while the woman closed the doors and went to the front. Soon the engine was starting back up and the ambulance turned back towards the way it had come and drove off, sending particles of dust flying in its wake. 

Holding a stranger's keys in one hand and a bag of fruit and veg on the other, you turned back to the horse - Willow you kept reminding yourself - who was seemingly watching the ambulance retreat with her owner. 

Cautiously you stepped closer to the giant mare, hesitant steps, holding up the bag of goodies. 

“Say, Willow?” You rustled the bag and she turned to look at you. “What do you say you show me where you live?” 

Willow seemed to perk up and trotted closer to you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say the beast was smiling at you.  

You opened the ziploc bag and pulled out a slightly slimy slice of apple and dangled it in front of her eye line. 

You started walking backwards towards your car whilst keeping your eyes on Willow who was following appeasingly, eyes trained on the piece of fruit. 

When you reached your car you held the slice in the palm of your hand and proffered it towards her. She gratefully took it, large gums spreading across your open hand while she shuffled the slice into her mouth. 

You grimaced at the feeling, her saliva coating your hand in a muddy, sticky mess. You wiped your hand on the thigh of your jeans. 

“Gross. So gross.” You sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Why the hell am I doing this again?” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum

[bloodrvvvsh]

Code Red, Code Blue. Chapter 1: Acquainted.

Synopsis: When the BAU is led to a case in Seattle, with Seattle Grace Mercy West as the focal point. And after an unfortunate incident involving two cups of hot coffee and a ruined pair of scrubs, Spencer meets a girl that changes his whole life.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Lexie Grey

Warnings: Typical CM discussions of crimes, typical Grey's discussions of gore and medical talk (very minimal, though!), meet-cute, literally one (1) offhanded "killing yourself" joke

Word count: 3.0K

Notes: My baby.. she's finally finished... Please enjoy, I spent way too long on this!

Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments help writers more!

Wednesday, September 29. 9:42 AM in Quantico, Virgina.

Spencer had only ever been to Seattle once.

Working in the BAU took him all over the country. Cases popped up in every corner, in every state, in every place you could possibly imagine. He had seen nearly every part of the vast landscape that was the US of A.

The last case that had led them across the country to Seattle was The Seattle Strangler, back when Gideon was still on the team. Spencer had mixed emotions about that thought. But he was a professional and he was going to do his job.

Their current case was as close as you could get to clean cut and dry in their line of work. Women in their 20s being stabbed. Pretty simplistic, right? 

The one connection each murder had, though, was that every single woman was eventually directed to Seattle Grace Mercy West. And while the hospital was a fairly major one, it was a Level 1 Trauma Center, after all, which meant a lot of patients, it was definitely raising a few alarm bells in their heads. Each woman was also eventually declared dead at that exact hospital.

It could never hurt to check every possible lead, could it?

Spencer used two fingers to rub at the sleep clinging to his eye still. He tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn as he shifted in his seat. Although he was quite used to struggles with sleep (hence his dependence on caffeine), it never truly got any better. 

“Late night?” Morgan inquired. He propped his arms on the top of Spencer’s seat, peering over the other man’s shoulder.

Spencer shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. He frowned softly, continuing to try and rid himself of the tiredness that stuck to his lashes before he was interrupted by another yawn.

God, he could really use some coffee right now.

He glanced down at his watch and his frown deepened. They still had at least another two hours until they would land. 

Spencer would consider himself a fairly patient man. He didn’t mind waiting, hell, he most often played the waiting game in his job as a BAU agent. But right now, sitting on that jet running on only five hours of sleep with not a drop of caffeine in sight, he was feeling just one moment away from simply losing it.

Not like it would actually happen, though. Spencer wasn’t that kind of guy. He was calm and reserved, even in the face of adversity. 

Hotch’s voice cut through Spencer’s internal monologue for the moment, snapping him back into reality. “We’re going to head to the police station first,” he began, casting a glance over each BAU member in eyesight, “After we get all the necessary facts, we’re going to head to the hospital. Sound good?” He was met with a round of nods from everyone and he nodded back.

~

Wednesday, September 29. 11:23 AM in Seattle, Washington.

Lexie needed a goddamn break.

Being a surgical resident had to be a punishment designed in one of the seven pits of hell. How dare she desire to save people's lives, right?

At least it was better than being an intern.

She loved her job, don’t get her wrong, being a surgeon was her dream. It’s just that she couldn’t remember the last time she got more than four hours of sleep a night and she was just so tired all the time. From running around constantly to several hours long surgeries to forty-eight hour shifts. 

Not to mention the constant drama and tragedy that filled the Seattle Grace Mercy West halls. You couldn’t turn a corner without hearing about someone sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend or about another MerDer breakup or another surprise pregnancy. Really, sometimes it was just ridiculous.

Lexie herself had been the victim of that good ol’ SGMW drama. She was trying to pull herself free from the clutches of it all, but it always seemed to follow them all. Like some sort of curse was placed on that very hospital.

But that was besides the point. The point was that she needed just one moment of peace, away from all the chaos of the hospital and the drama. Was that so selfish of her?

The sound of sneakers shuffling and her racing heart filled Lexie’s ears as she rushed through the halls. The occasional ‘excuse me’ slipped from her lips, trying not to crash into everyone that was in her way. 

When your attending pages 911, you don’t walk - you run.

Her feet skidded to a stop as the familiar emergency room came into view, nearly making her trip with the sudden halt. Her movements seemed almost practiced with the near mindless way she moved - triage gown, tie in the back, gloves. This wasn’t her first trauma, and it would be far from the last.

“What do we have?” Bailey’s voice cut through the millions of other noises filling the room - the rustling of fabric, the snapping of latex gloves on skin, the chatter of voices. The ER was ever far from being quiet.

“28-year-old woman stabbed fifteen times in the torso, majority in the chest,” Owen shot back. He rushed forwards when the glint of red and blue lights followed by the sirens that would follow them for the rest of their lives came into view, and the rest of them marched behind.

“God, overkill much?” Cristina muttered low to Meredith. Bailey, who heard everything always, shot a glare over her shoulder. Cristina threw her hands up in defense, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Her face fell the minute Bailey turned away and she shook her head with a quiet scoff.

The doors to the ambulance flew open and out rushed a woman on a stretcher. “BP is 158 over 92, HR is 92,” an EMT announced. Owen cursed under his breath as he took the railing of the stretcher into his hands.

“She’s hypertensive,” he announced. Quickly, other hands began to grab onto the stretcher as well, guiding the women into the hospital doors. He barked out a few names and different orders and Lexie slowly loosened her grip on the railing as her feet quit keeping pace before stopping entirely. She watched as the woman was rushed towards a trauma room, a frown falling on her lips. Trauma was never a pretty sight.

With a sigh she made her way to the receptionist desk near the ER entrance doors where a few of the other residents left behind had gathered.

“That’s the third stabbing in less than two months,” April remarked. A little frown began to form on her lips as she flipped the chart in her hand. “And they’ve all been women in their late 20s.”

She didn’t have to say it. They were all thinking it. The glances exchanged spoke a thousand words.

“You don’t think..” Meredith trailed off. She shot a look towards Cristina, then glanced back at April. The current hypothesis wasn’t looking so hot.

“It’s probably just a weird coincidence,” Lexie was quick to interject. Her words did little to quell the tense energy that filled the emergency room. “I mean, Seattle’s a big city. Plenty of crazy people doing crazy things. I’m sure they’re not related.” She waved a hand dismissively. Then she added, “It is getting close to the holidays. Don’t crime rates increase during the holiday seasons, or something?”

The pager attached to her hip beeped. She groaned, a pout appearing on her face at the sound. She unclicked it from the waistband of her scrub pants to take a glance at the numbers displayed on the screen and she sighed once more. It was Derek.

With a murmur of, “I’ve got to go,” that was met with a few dismissive waves of goodbyes from her fellow residents, she made her way towards the elevators, absolutely not ready for whatever Derek had in store for her now.

~

Wednesday, September 29. 2:17 PM in Seattle, Washington.

One thing you never want to hear in a hospital is silence. And that’s exactly Lexie had been greeted when she emerged from the imaging room, a stack of paperwork and scans ordered by Derek in hand. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was absolutely happening and she’d be damned if she was left out of it.

It all started to make sense, though, as she made her descent down a floor of stairs and she noticed a group of her coworkers crowded behind a corner. Mentally she counted heads - Cristina, Meredith, Alex, Jackson, April.. All five of them in the same place at the same time, clearly hiding from someone (or something?), always spelled trouble.

Cautiously, she made her way towards the group. She tried to stand on her tip-toes, trying to look over their shoulders to see whatever the hell it was that was making them all stop in their tracks, but to no luck.

Finally with a huff, she decided to pipe up. “What are we looking at?” Her sudden appearance obviously spooked them, as they all nearly jumped at the sound of her voice, but they quickly relaxed when they realized it was just Lexie. She flashed a little smile that was short lived and didn’t quite reach her eyes with an utterance of ‘sorry’. 

“Them,” Meredith said. Lexie leaned to the side and she followed the finger that Meredith pointed with. Never would have Lexie guessed what would be standing before her right now.

There, talking to the Chief and Owen, was a group of people that certainly didn’t look like they belonged together. One man in particular, though, stood out among the rest - a tall man with curly brown locks and the most beautiful face Lexie had ever seen. “I heard they’re FBI agents,” Cristina cut in, knocking her out her little lovestruck daydream, and Lexie’s head snapped so quickly to look back at her, it’s a wonder it didn’t break.

“What?” Was all she could manage in response. “FBI, wh-” She shook her head, trying to clear her head from all the thoughts racing through it. “What would the FBI be doing here?” Her voice dropped low, almost to a rushed whisper.

Cristina shrugged. “Hell if I know.” Lexie frowned. And just as she opened her mouth, ready to say more, Owen gestured in the direction of their little gathering. And when the group of supposed FBI agents looked at them, they all took off, scattering away in their different directions, like roaches when you turned the lights on.

Except for Lexie. She was frozen in place, her blood running cold in her body when their hard eyes locked on her. She forced another smile, a nervous little giggle escaping her as heat washed over her cheeks in heavy waves. She raised her free hand to offer them a half-hearted greeting before pointing behind her with her thumb and then promptly spinning on her heel and hurriedly trying to escape the embarrassment that was that interaction.

~

Wednesday, September 29. 2:45 PM in Seattle, Washington.

Spencer had drank approximately four-and-a-half cups of coffee since landing in Seattle, and he was not quite satisfied yet.

Would he ever truly be satisfied with the amount of caffeine he consumed? Could anyone, really? The answer didn’t really matter. Not to him, anyways. Especially not now, when the tiredness ran bone deep and the day was nowhere near close to being finished. So, he was going to get another cup.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” he announced offhandedly as he pushed himself up from his seat. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the young genius as he started to make his way in the direction of the coffee machines. “Really?” Morgan said. “Another cup of coffee? Seriously, kid, you’re going to kill yourself with all that caffeine and sugar you consume.” Spencer waved a hand in response and Morgan could only shake head with a small smile falling over his lips.

“Oh, you’re getting coffee?” JJ perked up, craning her neck slightly to catch Spencer’s eye before he disappeared. “Do you think you could get me a cup, too? Please?”

Spencer nodded. “Cream and sugar?” A grin split across JJ’s face at the idea that he remembered what she liked in her coffee. Although, with Spencer, he couldn’t have possibly forgotten in the first place. “You know it!” she called out to him. “You’re the best, Spence!”

“No problem,” he called back to her as he turned the corner. 

The trek to the elevator and up to the coffee carts was not a particularly long one, but it did give Spencer enough time to get lost in his thoughts. His movements almost ran on autopilot as he got on the elevator and pressed the button with the number four painted on it.

His feet moved for him, guiding him in the direction of exactly where he wanted to be. Ideas and different theories of their current case filled his head as he walked.

All of this to say - he was not paying attention. Not one bit. Not even as he mindlessly ordered two coffees - one mocha latte with room for sugar and one black with cream and sugar. Not as he began to round the corners that he was starting to become familiar with from turning around so many times due to his near caffeine addiction.

Not even as another body rounded the same corner as him.

It wasn’t until the harsh impact came, the colliding of two people knocking hard into each other and hot coffee being dumped all over each other, that he really came back to reality.

Lexie gasped as the coffee crashed right onto her, burning through her scrubs and stinging her skin. She glanced up, wanting to look whoever just ruined her scrubs in the eye, and it was like the whole world slowed for a moment.

It was cute supposed FBI agent guy. 

Her jaw went slack, practically hitting the floor, and all she could do was stare. She almost wanted to pinch herself, check if any of this was really real, but the hot coffee burning her skin told her it was true.

“I’m so sorry,” The words fell out of Spencer’s mouth in an instant. He glanced around in search of something, anything, that could clean up the mess he just made, but he was coming up empty. “Really, I am so sorry-”

Lexie shook her head. “It’s fine-”

Spencer’s eyebrows pinched together. “I just spilled hot coffee all over you, it is not fine.” Lexie could feel her heart skip a beat.

“No, really, it- it’s fine,” she chuckled. “I have another pair of scrubs in my locker, it’s okay.” Spencer didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

Now it was his turn to shake his head. “Can I make it up to you? You know, for.. getting you doused in coffee and ruining your scrubs.”

Lexie hesitated for a moment. While he was very cute, and seemingly very sweet, she barely knew this guy.

But something inside her told her to take her chance.

“Uh,” she bit down on her bottom lip. She waited for a beat. “Yeah,” she found herself saying, “Yeah, why don’t you buy me a coffee?” Spencer’s whole face lit up at her answer.

Could you blame him, though? Even covered in coffee, the woman before him was absolutely stunning.

“My name’s Spencer,” he finally added. “Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, actually.’” Lexie arched a brow at him, head tilting to the side. “Doctor, huh?” she echoed. “Are you, like, new around here, or something? Did you transfer from another hospital?”

“Oh, no. I- I’m not an MD, I’m, uh.. I’m a PhD.”

Lexie slowly nodded her head. “Right,” she muttered. The smile on her face couldn’t seem to budge. “Well, I’m Lexie,” she stuck a hand out to him, “Doctor Lexie Grey, MD.” They both grinned at her words before chuckling. Spencer found himself thinking her name was beautiful. He glanced down at her outstretched hand and then so did she, and for a moment they were both just staring at her hand.

Finally, he spoke up again, “I- I don’t do handshakes,” he spit out. “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s, uh- it’s actually safer to kiss.” 

Lexie nodded her head once more and let her hand fall back to her side. She ran her palm down the side of her thigh, subtly trying to wipe the gathering sweat. A part of her was tempted to ask if he wanted to kiss her, but she held off. For now.

“So, are you a germaphobe, or something? Or do you just know a lot of different facts?”

“Both, actually,” he said. “I, uh, I have an eidetic memory, so I remember everything I read. A lot about bacteria.”

“An eidetic memory?” Lexie echoed. “Really?”

Spencer nodded, a smirk worming its way onto his lips as he began to rock himself on his heels. “And an IQ of 187 and I can read 20,000 words per minute.”

“Oh, so you’re some sort of super genius, is that what this is?”

Spencer shrugged and his smile seemed to grow. “I don’t think intelligence can be defined by arbitrary measures. But for all intents and purposes, I am a genius.”

“You know, that’s really weird, because I actually have a photographic memory,” Lexie said. She tilted her head to the side again. “Does that make me a genius, too?”

Spencer chuckled. “Well, being a doctor isn’t an easy thing to achieve. Especially being a surgeon. I would imagine you have to be fairly smart to become one.”

Lexie’s own smile seemed to grow as well. “Well, Dr. PhD, why don’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself?” She nodded her head in the direction she came from before she started to walk. And Spencer found himself following behind her.

For some reason, Spencer felt like he wasn’t going to regret spilling coffee on her.

for @gghostwriter bc i don't have a taglist <3

(if you would like to be crcb taglist, let me know!!)

[enkas-illusion]

One of Your Guys

One of Your Guys - Part 2/3

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Choso x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: Fluff, smut (oral, f.receiving), language, hurt/comfort, angst (kinda?), friends to lovers

Chapter Summary: Sorting out your feelings always feels like a nightmare, but it becomes a lot more bearable when your flatmate plays cupid to help you with it.

Author’s Note: This is a long ass chapter lol, could’ve split it in two but I wanted to commit to the 3-part story thing. Enjoy!

(P.S. Will probably post Part 3 this Saturday... I had a lot of fun writing it, to say the least)

Song Dedication: Those Eyes by New West / Carry Me Home by Jorja Smith & Maverick Sabre

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Fuck… yes, right there,” you moan as you look down between your thighs. Choso’s eyes look up at you as he eats you out with a steady pace – sucking and licking at your pussy just as you like it.

Your legs shake as you chant his name on repeat. Your hands roam down to tug at his jet black hair, your back arching off the bed. The wet sound of his mouth against your core has the adrenaline rushing to your head, keeping you from thinking straight.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, almost there. Just a little bit more.

“Satoru… I’m clos-'' your words get caught in your throat as you look down with a blurry vision. The man between your legs stills his movement and sits up to move away from you.

“Satoru?” Choso lets out a chuckle in disbelief, “Is that who you belong to?” 

You open your mouth to talk but it feels like you’ve lost your voice and no matter how hard you try to speak, you simply can’t. Panic sets in and as if on cue, an incessant buzzing sound rings in your ears from your bedside table. As soon as you turn to the side to shut it off, your hand accidentally hits the edge of the table. 

Ouch.

That’s how you wake up the next day, in cold sweat and even more delirious than the night before. What the fuck was that? It’s as if your own mind is out to get you.

So much for wanting emotional clarity in the morning.

You grab the bottle from the side table, taking big gulps of water, almost emptying the entire thing before returning it back to its place. You tap on your phone to check the time – 02:54 PM – you’d slept in all through the morning.

Leaving your bed lazily, you walk towards the window to open the curtains slowly and let the light in. You’re glad the sun isn’t too harsh even though it’s late into the afternoon. You stretch a bit to release the stiffness in your body and your stomach growls. You’d barely eaten since last night, so naturally, you find yourself craving enough food to feed 10 people.

Feelings can wait, you decide, food can’t.

Just as you begin your walk to the kitchen, your doorbell rings and you reroute your steps to get the door instead. Just as you reach the door, the bell rings again.

“Patience, jezz!” you groan as you open the door. Before you’ve even opened it halfway, your flatmate barges in with her travel bags, dropping them to the floor as she gives you a bear hug.

“Miss me? It’s okay mama’s hereee.” Mia says in a sing-song tone as she squeezes and shakes you in her arms. You want to tease her and say no but this feels so comforting that you simply laugh as you nod your head and hug her back.

When she pulls away from you and observes you as you close the door, she states, “Wow, you look like shit, what happened?”

“I missed you real bad.” you say dryly. She gives you a stare down and in an effort to change the topic, you add, “Weren’t you returning in the evening?”

She places her bags near the foot of the sofa and drops to the sofa with her whole body weight. She moves to make some space when you sit next to her.

“Evening… afternoon… same thing… besides I had t-,” she pauses midway as she stares at you with wide eyes and your eyebrows knit together in confusion. Your eyes widen back at her when you see she’s not exactly staring at your face.

“Hold on, what the fuck is that???” she half yells, pointing at your hickey in sync with you slapping both your hands to your neck in a poor attempt to cover the entire area. 

Right, the hickeys. You weren’t actively aware that other people could see them, partly because, well… even you hadn’t registered everything from the previous night into your brain in a sane, rational, comprehensible manner. 

“Don’t tell me… Satoru?” she gasps as she leans forward to pull your hand away to inspect the mark near your collarbone. “To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you to confess-”

“No… it’s not Satoru…” you say as you avoid her gaze and almost mumble the next part, “...Choso did that.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” her eyes widen again as she squeals. Disbelief and amusement written all over her face. “Details! I want DETAILS!”

You take a deep breath and sigh as you tell her to freshen up before you get into it all. She protests but gets up quickly when she realises you’d delay giving her the gossip even further if she persisted. 

When Mia almost runs back to her room with her bags, you stare at her as you let out a chuckle in disbelief. Well, at least someone’s entertained.

You go to the kitchen and grab two packs of instant noodles. As you set the water on the stove for boiling, you go back to your room to take a shower to shake off the lethargic feeling that had taken over your body.

You wrap up your routine quicker than usual, knowing Mia would grow impatient if she had to wait longer than necessary whenever it came to ‘juicy drama’. 

When you get out of the bathroom in your room, you look at your reflection in the mirror as your fingers roam over the marks Choso had left on your skin. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you recall the sensation of his lips on you and then you remember the dream from less than an hour ago. You let out a sigh – you’re screwed, and it’s not the good kind.

You touch the bruise just below your left ear and move a few strands of hair over it. Your hair might do a good job at covering it, you just have to be careful not to flip it… or tie it up… or move too fast and basically freeze in place and you’ll be good.

The other hickey is much more prominent. It sits just slightly above your right clavicle. When you brush your fingers over it, it feels sensitive. This is going to be a task to cover up. You sigh again – something you’ve been doing a lot since yesterday. 

For now, you decide a round neck t-shirt would be good enough as you rummage through your closet. You get dressed quickly and walk to the kitchen. By the time you’re done serving the hot noodles in two bowls, you hear Mia’s footsteps from behind.

“Need any help?” she asks as she enters the kitchen. “Yes, can you please grab our coffee?” you say and you tilt your head in the direction of the two mugs on the counter. She takes the mugs and walks out, you follow behind with the noodle bowls.

The minute you set everything on the coffee table in front of the sofa, your roomie turns you around. You realise trying to cover up the hickeys was a futile effort as Mia yanks the neckline down to observe the mark above your collarbone.

You scrunch your face as she squeals with a series of ‘Ohmygodddddd, I can’t believe this actually happened. I CALLED IT! I told you! I told you it was gonna happen!!!’

You’ve been hearing one too many ‘I told you so’s for the last two days and so far none of them have been pleasant. 

“You done or should I take a nap while you fangirl?” you joke dryly as she gives you a side-eye and punches your shoulder playfully.

“Okay, tell me everything. That’s a deep mark, I just know he’s a freak! What was his dick like? I’m sure it’s big… It’s always the quiet ones!” She speaks so fast that any normal person would miss half of what she’d just said.

“I don’t know… because we never got to that part.” you reply sternly. She frowns at you and stares at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

You tell her everything from the top – about seeing the snaps from the party, calling Choso over, him comforting you, the accidental make out and his confession after. She interrupts you several times to ask for details when she catches you skimming over some parts. 

Nothing can ever get past Mia so you realise you might as well ask for her expert opinion on all of this. You’d always trusted her opinion when it came to matters of the heart since she’s always drawing from her own experiences. Mia is the type of person who has superior insight and introspective ability that you only wish to develop some day.

As you both hungrily gobble down the noodles and coffee, you also tell her that ever since Choso pointed it out, you’ve suddenly been awfully aware about how Satoru knew you had a crush on him but never cared enough to confront you about it.

“... and so I can’t help but feel that the reason I never told him I had a crush on him is because deep down I might’ve been scared of getting rejected. Because, if he knows I like him, it means that he ignored my feelings and kept me on a hook on purpose…” you trail off towards the end of your monologue, still grappling with all your half-cooked emotions.

“Hmm,” Mia ponders over your words, taking a brief pause before speaking up, “Satoru does like attention so I won’t be surprised if he gave you just enough signals to keep the crush alive but not enough to give you a clear indication of anything stronger… still, I doubt that dummy had any ill intention, maybe he thought your crush was surface level and not some deep infatuation.”

“Well, now I’m not even sure if I like him.” you almost whisper, embarrassed to admit it out loud.

“You’ve been pining over him for about 6 months.” Mia narrows her eyes at you.

“I know… but I can’t explain it. Now that I know Satoru never really considered me as a potential partner, it’s sort of making me realise how delusional I've been. I hadn’t felt anything all these years of us being friends so why did I suddenly like him just months ago? I hate liking him… it’s so frustrating!” you wonder out loud, hoping she’d have some answers.

Instead, she asks you something that you honestly have no answer to, “How do you know when you actually like someone?”

“You find them attractive and like spending time with them?” you answer as you think of Satoru. She urges you to continue, not satisfied with the surface-level shit. You think harder and add, “When tiny things remind you of them? It’s like you can find traces of them in your everyday life, even when sometimes the situation might not be related to them.” 

You’ve been picking at your nails but stop the movement as soon as you notice it. Mia stays quiet as you look up at her to continue.

“Oh! And you want to know their likes and dislikes, but not just the basics. You want to know their thoughts on something you like as well and you want to share more of you with them and get to know them more than anyone ever has.” you smile as you finish your analysis. But your smile quickly fades when you realise that Satoru wasn’t the one on your mind when you spoke the last few sentences.

“Look at you gooo,” Mia whistles, causing you to roll your eyes at her. As if it’s an intuitive thing for her, she asks, “Who was on your mind just now?”

Not Satoru.

“No one.” you know it’s not the answer she wants to hear. She’s too optimistic to believe you’d be more open about your feelings, no matter how confusing they might be. 

“You know what they say, you can lie to everyone else but yourself… all I can tell you is that if you didn’t think of Satoru then our poor blondie was just a placeholder.” she begins but you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Placeholder?” you interrupt to ask.

“Yes. You know how we’re always taught a romanticised version of love? It’s like, somewhere along the way, we mistake craving for love itself with craving for a particular person. You want to feel the feeling of being in love but you can’t possibly do that if the feeling itself has no face to it. So when I call him a placeholder, it’s in the way you channel your delusions of love through him when you may not even have any romantic feelings for him to begin with!”

You process everything that she says and as much as you dislike the way it is making you feel, deep down you know that her theory might apply to you more than you’d like to admit. 

She speaks up again after a brief pause, “You liked the feeling of crushing on someone because it signified that the romantic space in your heart wasn't empty… and who else could possibly be a better placeholder than your closest friend, Satoru?”

You stay silent. You feel exposed. As if your emotions had been bared out in the open without your permission. The kind of emotions that are too rough to be brought to the surface. Emotions that only ever seem decent when you present a polished, snipped version of them to the outside world.

Mia is aware of this. She knows this all too well because she’d been in your position way too many times. She pulls you out of your thoughts as she speaks up again.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” she squeezes your hand gently. You give her a smile despite still feeling like you’re tripping over the heavy realisation you just had. “Let’s watch something?”

She turns the TV on and sees Bridgerton under your ‘Continue Watching’ tab and lets out a tiny giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. You punch her arm lightly.

“Maybe you can text Choso about continuing the show... ‘Heyyy, do you want to come over and finish where we left off.’” she says, trying to mock you with a sexy voice and it makes you laugh.

Mia ends up picking a random 2000s romcom and you both doze off on the sofa by the time the credits roll. When you wake up, it’s already quite late, so you order some food and call it a night when you’re done with dinner.

—

The whole week passes by quicker than expected since you were mostly busy with work during the day and busy pondering over what the recent reversal of your crush on Satoru means moving forward.

By the time Saturday arrives, you feel as if you have sorted out your feelings in the best way you possibly could. There was nothing to fix when it came to Satoru since you’d stopped feeling miserable over him. In your mind, he’d already gone back to being your close friend but at the same time, you were awfully aware that the only thing you really missed about crushing on him was the placeholder phenomenon Mia had described so well.

As for Choso, it was a whole different thing. You completely ignored any thoughts about him that arose in your mind for about 3 days after the kiss. Afterall, you’d accused him of thinking with his dick that night, it’d be hypocritical if you felt attracted to him just because you made out.

So after not texting him for a week, here you were, contemplating texting him as you sat in the living room. He hadn’t texted you all week either, you debate to yourself. 

Well, can you blame him? 

You take a deep breath as you text him, asking him if he had time for hot chocolate. He replies with a simple ‘yes’ after what feels like forever (15 minutes later).

Not wanting to bother him with the task when he arrives, you prepare two cups of hot chocolate and keep them at their place on the coffee table as you wait for your doorbell to ring eagerly.

You almost sprint to the door when the bell rings five minutes later. You rub your sweaty hands on the fabric of your t-shirt before opening the door with a wide smile. He returns your smile as he walks in and past you to sit on the sofa.

No hugs. Okay.

You notice his hair is pulled up in a sweaty bun with his gym bag placed near his feet.

“You were at the gym?” you inquire.

“Hmm. Texted you when I was wrapping it up.” he replies as he takes one of the cups. You sit next to him and grab the other one.

You’re almost offended at him going to the gym alone. For about 4 months now, you’d been going together on the weekends since your weekday schedules don’t align well enough to make it to the gym at the same time. 

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask, your voice sounds dejected although you’d tried masking it well. 

“Figured you’d want some space.” he replies curtly. You want to yell at him to stop being so formal. You miss your Choso.

“Choso,” you sigh as you look at him, waiting for him to meet your gaze. When he does, you speak again, “A lot happened and I needed time to process it all. You were right about it all, about Satoru ignoring me and me doing the same to you. I’m so sorry that I made you feel as if you were only an emotional support friend. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me.”

You notice the stiffness in his shoulders ease a bit at your words. Taking it as a positive sign you continue, “I won’t lie, but I haven’t really seen you in a romantic light since I’ve been blindly crushing over Satoru… not to say that I don’t find you attractive! You’re hot- but that’s besides the point… the point is, can we be friends first? I’d really like to know you for who you are, without all of our talks being overshadowed by me ranting about some stupid crush.”

You almost believe your words did more damage than good before you see a smile break on Choso’s otherwise resting face. You smile back at him.

It’s his turn to speak now, “I think I can handle that… but I believe you’re being too harsh on yourself. While your crush has been a constant topic of conversation, you’ve been a good friend regardless. You have been there for me whenever I needed a friend to talk to and you always listen to me rant about work or whatever just as much.”

You nod at him to continue.

“I’d say we already know each other pretty well. But of course, I'll always want to know more about you… what can I say? You’ve piqued my interest and it’s been hard to let go since.” he pinches your cheek as you feel a blush creep up your face.

You push his hand away but it’s only to get closer to hug him. He wraps his arms around your waist, completely enveloping you into his space, but it's far from invasive – it’s more welcoming than ever. You bury your face into his neck, breathing in the soothing scent of oud and jasmine, mixed with a tiny hint of sweat.

“So, how are things on the Satoru front? You’re almost making it sound as if you’ve lost interest.” he jokes when you pull away, secretly hoping his intuition is right.

You briefly tell him about your talk with Mia, leaving out the part where you’d told your roomie all about the makeout sesh. He raises an eyebrow at the placeholder theory but simply nods as he thinks it over in his head.

“So you really are over him?” He asks once again. Even if he intends to seek reassurance, you can’t tell by the way his tone is almost indifferent. 

You joke about his crush on you being a similar type of thing and you bet him that he’ll soon realise he doesn’t like you like he thought he did.

“You’re a lot more than a placeholder to me, baby.” he pouts at you before swiftly getting up to take the empty cups back to the kitchen, not giving you time to react. You watch his back, baffled at how daring and straightforward Choso can get sometimes.

He returns at the same time Mia comes out of her room, yawning as she covers her mouth.

“Hey Choso, how are you?” she smiles slyly at him. There’s a sudden shift in his body language and you realise Mia’s presence has suddenly made him nervous. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

He’s aware you’ve told her about him.

And based on how well he knows you, he’s certain you’ve given Mia an unabridged version of the events of last Saturday. He greets her back with an awkward ‘sup’ and you can’t help but think of it as a boyfriend-meets-parents type of situation.

Your amusement is visible on your face and Mia catches onto it. What she says next surprises you.

“Good thing you’re here. I was just inviting people over for my birthday weekend next weekend.” she smiles at him.

“Birthday weekend?” Choso asks.

“Yup, so each year, the people whose birthdays lie on and/or closest to the weekend, they get a whole weekend where they’re the boss and everyone else in the group has to strictly follow whatever they’ve planned for the whole group.” she explains.

Choso looks at you, already loving being invited to something like this. “But don’t get your hopes up too high! Mia is a homebody so we’re all probably going to be trapped at home baking stuff or something like that.” you add, nonetheless, his excitement doesn’t fade. 

He tells Mia he’ll be looking forward to it and hugs you both like he’s about to leave. This time you ask him to stay to finish the last 2 episodes of Bridgerton. He thinks it over hesitantly but agrees. The only difference this time is that Mia has joined you on the sofa. You don’t complain though, since the last thing you needed right now was to be left alone with Choso while watching steamy sex scenes from the final episodes.

When Choso eventually leaves, you express your surprise to Mia at her inviting him for the birthday weekend, which almost always, only involves your tiny group consisting of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Kento, Mia and you.

“Think of it as me playing cupid babe”, she pouts as she makes kissing sounds at you and you palm her face to push her away. She giggles, “My plan is to keep everyone trapped in the house for two whole days, it’ll be so boring, it’ll ironically be so much fun. And you get to spend all your time with your loverboy.”

“He’s not my loverboy,” you protest.

“Oh yeah? Say that to his cute ass puppy eyes that always fixate on you whenever he hears you laugh. He’s so gone for you, it’s almost sickening to watch, being a third wheel.”

“Give it a rest… dear lord!” you say but you can’t help but feel another blush forming on your cheeks due to her constant teasing.

You were trying your best not to like Choso romantically, you wanted to give it time to make sure you weren’t liking him as just another placeholder.

—

The next week passes by just as quickly. The only difference is that this time you constantly find yourself taking tiny breaks from work to text Choso. You feel great relief when he texts you back with the same enthusiasm… or maybe he’s always been that way and you’re the one who’s just now noticing it.

Mia had explained her plan for the birthday weekend on your friends’ group chat. The plan was for everyone to gather at your place on Friday evening, along with whatever essentials they needed to hibernate for the next two days. You call it hibernate because Mia’s one rule for the weekend was that nobody would step outside the apartment at any cost, unless someone had an emergency only as grave as a heart attack.

Psychopath would be a harsh word, but, hypothetically speaking, if Mia were given a chance to take part in one of those human psychological experiments, she'd do it happily while dragging the rest of the group with her.

However, on the upside, Mia was a gamer girl through and through. It was kind of perfect because you, on the other hand, were a card game expert of sorts. It was a simple plan really –  games, drinks, movies – yet if you were to ask Satoru and Shoko’s opinion on the matter, they’d protest by saying something along the lines of a party isn’t a party unless you bar-hop while getting shitfaced drunk at 3am.

On Friday evening, as soon as you return from work, you and Mia clean the apartment for your friends’ welcome. You arrange the card games and snacks on the table before freshening up.

You’d informed Choso about the plan as well and he’d texted you half an hour ago that he’d be there in 30 minutes. You run to your room to check your outfit in the mirror once again. You straighten out the fabric of your skorts and pull at the hem of your sweatshirt. 

Casual but cute — you did not want to make it seem as if you dressed up to stay at home but you figured you could at least look a bit presentable. You touch up your lipgloss and convince yourself it’s strictly to protect your lips from cracking due to the cold.

When the bell rings, you feel as if the inside of your stomach does a backflip. You hurriedly walk out of your room and see Mia at the door, welcoming Choso in. He’s wearing a vivid indigo blue sweater with black sweatpants. The feeling in your stomach returns when you observe his soft hair pushed back and tucked behind his ears with a few tiny strands kissing his forehead.

He gives her a side hug as he hands her a long black box wrapped with a golden ribbon. You walk towards them and you swear you see his smile grow when he looks at you. He puts his hand out to you and you grab it. With a smooth movement, he pulls you to him while his other arm wraps around your shoulder. The hug is brief yet it makes you feel giddy.

Shit. Staying platonic with him is going to be one hell of a task.

“...hope it won’t be awkward for your other friends.” your thought breaks when you hear him talk to Mia. 

“No, not at all! Don’t worry, they’re all pretty chill!” Mia reassures him. Choso has met your group a handful of times so they are, what one would consider, mutuals, but he’s only friends with you and Mia in the real sense of the word.

“What did you get?” you ask him, looking at the wrapped box in Mia’s hands. He gestures for her to open it. Her smile grows as she pulls out the big bottle of scotch, waving it around in excitement.

“Thank you for aiding my borderline alcoholism with my drink of choice.” she jokes as she bows at him.

“Always glad to help.” he laughs as he bows his head to mimic her. You smile to yourself, happy that he’s so attentive and considerate of everyone close to him. “By the way, where do I keep my bag?” he asks, sliding his backpack off his shoulder.

“You can keep it in my room… everyone is probably going to dump everything there since Mia’s room has their precious xbox setup.” you say as he smiles and makes his way to your room. Mia goes to the kitchen to keep the bottle somewhere it’s safe and sound.

When Choso returns, he observes the decks of multiple card games, arranged on the table. There’s Dobble, Monopoly Deal, UNO, and chess as well. You had to restrain yourself from bringing out all the other games you had since you did not want to overwhelm your friends with too many options.

“Which one is your favourite?” he asks.

“Kamo… would you pick favourites if you ever had kids?” you retort.

“Yes.” he says with a straight face, “now, answer me.” His tone makes you snort but you grab the tin with the Dobble cards as you explain how it works. Mia returns from the kitchen and you offer her to join your game but she makes up some excuse to go back to her room, leaving you alone with Choso. You have a feeling she’s going to try to manufacture such moments for the two of you throughout the whole weekend.

You have three clean wins before Choso starts getting frustrated at his loss. “How on earth can you spot them so quickly!?”

You shrug, smug about your wins. When you draw the next hand, the bell rings and you turn your head to look towards the door. Mia comes out to get it and you hear Choso yell, “GOT IT!” causing you to turn back to the cards.

“Hey! It doesn’t count, I wasn’t paying attention.” you complain.

“Not my fault. We’d drawn the cards already.” he says, grinning with a pleased look on his face. You know he's not going to concede so you let it go.

“I wasn’t aware we were allowed to bring plus one this time?” you hear Satoru’s voice behind you. You turn around to roll your eyes at him. He’s leaning down to your side with a wide grin and his arms extended. You hook your arm around his waist to give him a side hug.

“I invited him, he’s replacing you since you’re so busy nowadays.” Mia speaks up and you press your lips to keep yourself from laughing. He presses his hands to his chest dramatically as if Mia’s words have physically wounded him.

You crinkle your nose to cringe at him and you sense Choso looking at you. But as soon as you look back at him, he turns his head down as he grabs all the cards to put them back in the tin.

“Quitting already?” you tease him. He looks up at you and smirks, “No, there’s enough people to play Monopoly now. You just wait and watch how I smoke you.”

“What makes you so sure? You don’t know who you’re up against.” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hmmm… wanna bet?” He challenges you. 

You smile cockily, “Deal, what’s at stake?”

“Oh, nothing too bold… maybe just your heart and soul.” he teases you. You bite the insides of your cheeks to keep yourself from blushing at his comment and break eye contact to lean towards the table to grab the deck of Monopoly Deal.

You fail to notice that Satoru had already started drawing conclusions based on the tiny interaction he witnessed between you and Choso. As he walks to the kitchen with Mia, he half whispers, “Is it just me o-”

“Nope. you’re seeing it right.” she interrupts him.

“Since when did Choso, of all people, get so close with her?” he inquires.

“Haha, blondie… you have no idea!” Mia chuckles, amused. “Why? You jealous?” 

He snickers at her question, “No.”

“Good.”

The conversation ends there and he knows better than to push it further. As the duo returns, carrying four glasses of homemade lemonade mixed with vodka, you jump up to walk towards them to grab two of them and hand one to Choso. He thanks you with a smile and you return it.

When Mia suggests it, you all sit on the floor around the table comfortably as you distribute the cards for everyone.

When you win the first game of Monopoly, you stick your tongue out at Choso. He didn’t seem to mind losing at all, nonetheless, he feigned hurt, “Damn, do I really need to give you my heart and soul now?”

With the alcohol getting to you, you felt brave enough to flirt with him as you replied back in an instant, “I thought you’d already given your heart to me?”

His eyebrows raise up in surprise as he lets out a chuckle. He drags your name out as he speaks, “You know I consider myself to be a romantic of sorts, but that’s too cheesy even for me!” you slap his arm as both of you start laughing as if it’s the funniest thing ever, almost forgetting that Mia and Satoru are right there in the room with you two.

You only turn to look at Satoru when he clears his throat. “Oh right… When is the rest of the gang getting here?” you ask Satoru.

“Check the group chat, they’ve texted.” he replies curtly. And you can’t help but feel as if he’s acting a bit cold. Usually you’d brush it off as just overthinking, or blame it on the alcohol but you’re certain that throughout the game, he has been actively ignoring you.

The awkwardness of the situation dissipates a little when Shoko, Kento and Suguru arrive about an hour later. When the clock strikes midnight, everyone hands Mia their presents but everyone is too drunk to care what the others have gotten her.

You’d be lying if you said you remembered anything about the events of Friday night through Sunday morning. The photos and videos on your phones are the only evidence you have of a time well spent. There was a lot of gossip, cheating at card games, fighting for turns on the Xbox, laughing at shit jokes, crying at sappy hallmark movies and an incident where you and Mia almost set the kitchen on fire, trying to bake a batch of brownies for everyone. You were barred from entering the kitchen all day after that and it was followed by a long debate about how it was against your rights as owners to be banned from your own kitchen. You gave up on trying to forcefully enter the kitchen after a while, since five people against two wasn’t really a fair battle.

So Sunday morning, it was a collective decision to stay sober to avoid being hungover at work the next day. Not like you guys had a choice anyway, since all the booze had been wiped out in the last 36 hours, not even Choso’s fancy scotch had survived the night. It was all a haze, to say the least.

Although you vaguely remember Choso and you sharing a few moments alone from time to time, you also remember all of them being interrupted, mostly by Satoru. You make a mental note of wanting to confront Satoru sometime soon.

Sometime soon arrives Sunday evening when Satoru walks in on you and Choso making hot chocolate in the kitchen. You’d been talking to Choso about who had the highest tolerance among the group.

You’re pressed to his side with your head resting on his shoulder as he leans against the counter. “...far from it. You’re a lightweight!” Choso calls your bullshit.

“No, listen… I vibe easily, I don’t get drunk easily. There’s a difference.” you protest.

He pinches your cheek, teasing, “okay baby… whatever you say.”

You try to elbow him but stop your movement when you hear Satoru enter the kitchen, “Are you making hot chocolate?”

You’re slightly annoyed at his feigned innocence since you’d already asked the entire group if they wanted hot chocolate, like, 5 minutes ago. He had declined then.

“Cool, can I get one too?” he asks.

“Sure.” you leave Choso’s side as you grab another mug to prepare the drink. 

Sensing the tension, Choso excuses himself politely, “I’m outside, okay?” he squeezes your shoulder before walking out of the kitchen.

“You seem pretty close.” Satoru comments. You put the mug in the oven before you turn around to look at him.

“Satoru… what is it?” you sigh.

“Nothing… I’m just surprised you got over me so quickly.” he says playfully.

Oh, so you’re having this conversation right now.

“You can’t possibly be serious right now? What do you mean moved on? What was there to move on from… you ignoring my feelings and only keeping me on the hook whenever you wanted attention?” you sound far from playful.

“Ouch.” he says quietly. Maybe talking to you about this was a bad idea.

“Look… I’m sorry if me having a crush on you made you uncomfortable. I’d hate for things to be awkward now after being such close friends all these years. But I’m sad that you sort of led me on and toyed with my emotions for your own amusement.” you add as you look down.

There’s a moment of silence. Then Satoru moves towards you to hug you. He pats your head with one hand while the other rubs your back.

“I had no idea that having a crush on me made you so miserable. We’ve always been flirting with each other platonically, I initially thought it was the same thing. When I realised you were serious about it, I figured that maybe it would fade without us needing to address it.” he says softly.

“No, to be honest, I realised quite recently that I don’t really like you like that.” you interrupt him.

“Yeah, no shit. You’ve been flirting with him all weekend.” he laughs. You blush out of embarrassment. 

He continues, “But that’s besides the point. I’m sorry, okay? I’ve designated you as my best frien– don’t tell Suguru. I admit I did like the attention so I'm sorry for hurting you, even if it might’ve been unintentional for the most part. ”

You look up at him as you raise your eyebrows at him. Satoru isn’t the kind to apologise easily.

“Gojo Satoru is apologising to me?” you smirk at him.

“Don’t milk it. You know I really mean it, I'm truly sorry. I can also allow you one punch anywhere besides my face and crotch to prove it. I’ll always love you, you’re my homie.” he says pulling you closer into the hug. You wrap your arms around him, smacking the area near his lower back a bit too hard. You catch him by surprise as he jerks away from your touch, letting out a loud ‘ahh’.

“Jeez, what a b–,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he extends his arm out to you, “We’re even now, cool?” 

“Okay, cool.” you smile at him. “So, how’s it going with your new girl?”

“Oh it’s pretty chill. Nothing serious though. We like each other but we both agreed that it’s pretty casual.” he explains.

“Really? I was under the impression that you were falling in love and shit.” 

“How can I love someone else when I got you?” he teases as he ruffles your hair. You glare at him with a murderous intent. 

“I’m kidding!” he adds, laughing, “But no, I’m not falling in love so soon. I always thought I’d fall in love in my mid 30s. Seems like the perfect age to fall in love.” 

You shake your head, “Satoru, you dummy… love doesn’t work on your schedule. It happens when it is meant to happen! If you don’t go all the way in, deep in your feels with someone, you won’t even recognize it if love arrives in your life.”

“Okay sensei… seems like you know a lot about going all the way in deep. Is Choso also going in deep?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You cringe at his crass innuendo but nonetheless blush at the mention of Choso’s name.

“Maybe it's none of your business!” you retort. He shrugs as he puts his hands up in defeat.

“Come out soon, we’re gonna watch another romcom.” he says as he walks past you.

“Wait, your hot chocolate?” you ask as you see him walking out of the kitchen.

“Nah, on second thought, I don’t want it anymore.” he says as he leaves. You stand there as you watch him go, with equal parts amusement and equal parts disbelief.

This is the Satoru you knew, your annoying best friend and not the romanticised version of him you had in your head. You feel peaceful for a split second as you finally sense things return back to normal, before your mind wanders to thoughts of Choso. 

Can you redirect your love where it can actually be reciprocated? You’re aware that you’d been growing fond of him with every minute you spend together… but are you certain he’s not just someone you’re using to fill the vacancy in your heart?

~~~

taglist: @lik0 @hueanhdang @dellalyra @personomy

[chelleztjs18]

I Just Feel You (W.M)

Avenger Fem Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: When things go downhill after a mission but revelations arise.

Warning: hurt/comfort. pain description. Let me know if i miss anything.

A/n: Hello! I'm back. This fic is from 2 requests combined. I tried to write it as short and fast as i can but turns out it wasnt that easy. hahaha. I didn't really proof read this fic so i'm sure there'll be some errors in it. Thank u @honey-sweet-hiraeth for helping me brainstorming. Thank u my curious george anon for the summary line. :D Thank you @stonemags for helping me checking and give me some corrections. These are the requests for this fic. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

The snow surrounding is mostly untouched. The further it is and the higher it is up to the mountain, it looks all perfectly sparkling white. Silence dominates the air.

That was a little while ago, before you and your Avengers team mates came to attack one of Hydra secret labs and warehouses and the fight has been on for a while.

The sounds of gunshots, the screaming Hydra's army try to fight all of you and even some explosions are now breaking the silence.

“Okay, we already got all the vibranium they have here. Everybody try to get back to the jet now.” Steve instructs everybody through the comms.

“I still need to go into their computer system in the north building to hack the bomb that they set in Sokovia's main city.” Stark explained as he flies in the air at high speed.

"What about the detonator? One of Strucker's guys has it and he's running away with it to the east side." Natasha reminds everybody followed by a grunt as she fights the enemies in front of her.

"Somebody needs to get him before they blow it as their plan." The blonde super soldier directs his thoughts in the middle of throwing his shield at the gunman who tries to shoot him. “I can go to where the detonator at as soon as I’m done moving the vibranium to the jet. “ Pietro offers his help as he runs super speed, knocking down three more Strucker’s guards.

“Y/n, why don’t you teleport there?” Yelena mentioned.

“I got Strucker locked in my target. I’m ready, Cap.” Clint informs through the com while pulling his arrow back and ready to shoot as he waits for his cue on the west part.

“Yelena’s right. I can teleport to get the detonator. I’m almost done with this big guy here.” You agreed and fought the last tough enemy you got in your assigned part of the building.

“No, y/n. Your power is new, you don’t have the control on teleporting where you want to go yet.” your girlfriend reminds you about your new power.

“No, don’t worry, Wands. I have been practicing with Yelena and I have been controlling it pretty good.” you disagree. “Y/n, don’t listen to my sister. Listen to your girlfriend.” Natasha backs up her best friend, Wanda.

“Y/n, don’t do it. I will fly to him now.” Wanda tries to leave you no room to argue no more.

“Wanda’s right, y/n.” Tony sided with your girlfriend as well and just like that, the comms line gets chaotic with the team agreeing and disagreeing with the plan while fighting whoever comes in front of them, kicking their ass.

“Trust me, y/n has been doing good. It’s about time to try it in the real field. What worse can happen right?” Yelena expresses her support for you.

“She can get hurt! Y/n, you better not do it!” Wanda warns you in a stern tone this time.

“Cap, what do you wanna do with this bastard? A helicopter just landed, he’s running away. Shoot him now?” The archer asks once more. Your and your teammates' voices overlap each other.

“Yeah, shoot him.” Steve answers.

“I’m gonna do it now.” you decide despite Wanda’s warning.

Clint let go the arrow, targeted the running Strucker and just like Wanda said, you showed up in the opposite direction you wanted.

You gasp as you feel Clint’s arrow force through your upper abdomen near your ribs, luckily the new technology on your suit managed to block his arrow before it hits your vital organ. It was impressive but it hurts you good. “Wait, y/n! What the hell just happened?! Clint asks in such shock and confusion of what he saw from the top of the hill.

"I just got hit by your arrow, Clint. Fuck! That hurts." You tried to get up but you couldn't.

Confident that none of the Avengers are close enough to get him now, Strucker noticed what happened and looked down at the wounded you now. “Ah, I remember you. You finally got your power. Teleporting, not bad. I’ll come back for you, to finish what I started on you.”

His heavy voice in a malicious evil tone made its way to be heard by you causing fear to show up out of nowhere in you. Your body starts to shake a little and you feel colder than a few seconds ago. Your legs weakened from your trauma. Vivid images of memories flash rapidly, sending shivers to your bones. You were one of Hydra’s experiments before The Avengers saved you and recruited you to join them.

The wound makes it hard for you to move and all you can do is respond to him in agony. “No, you won’t! We will get your ass, Strucker! And stop you from doing more experiments on those poor people, you son of a bitch!”

“Can anybody go where they are? Clint, can’t you shoot more arrows?” Tony talks in concern.

“That was my last one.”

“I’ll take care of y/n.” The Maximoff twins said the same things at once.

Strucker didn’t say anything else and walked away shortly after he left with a confident smirk on his face to get onto the helicopter.

Pietro and Wanda came at the same time but too bad Strucker got away.

You hear a thud as Wanda lands. "Detka, what were you thinking?? You are hurt now." She sounds upset as she leans to you to check your wound.

"Hey, Wands. I'm okay. Don't worry. Ouch!" You replied as you flinched when the red magic tendrils wrap you and lift you up.

"Come on, ya goose. We gotta make sure you are okay before my sister gets mad at you." the silver haired twin teases you, knowing how angry Wanda is right now. He knows how protective and possessive she is of you.

"Love, are you mad at me?" You ask as you are floating into the quinjet as everybody else is already waiting in silence, they know better not to say anything when Wanda is furious.

“Not now, Y/n. We’ll get you first aid at the compound first, then I’ll talk to you.” Flat yet irritated was the red haired witch’s tone. You can see Natasha hit her sister’s arm as soon as she tries to talk to avoid more tension that she caused earlier.

“We’ll be at the compound soon in less than an hour.” Clint announced.

_____

Big thanks to Stark’s technology inventions, your wound will get better faster than usual. Wanda walks out of the meds room as soon as you are done and scurries to your shared bedroom. You try to catch up with her steps. “Wands, are you mad? You didn’t say a word to me the whole flight back” She ignores your question and keeps walking. You keep following her.

As soon as she walks into the bedroom, she slams the door before you even get the chance to get in. You open the door and walk in. “Seriously? Slamming the door? What’s your problem, Wanda? What did I do?”

She turns around to you and glares at you before she finally breaks her silence. “What the hell were you thinking?! Teleported when you can’t control it yet! You could’ve died, y/n!”

”But I didn’t, did I?” Trying to loosen up the tension, you joke around a little bit but oh boy you realized it was not the smartest thing to do right now. Wanda’s annoyance flares and she simmers with anger. “You seriously did not just say that, y/n! Argh! You never take anything serious, don't you? You don't take me seriously, or our relationship or even your life! I thought you would change but I was wrong." she snapped. Her voice started to raise. Her heart pounding and her muscles quivering.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Where the hell did all of that come from? I don’t take you seriously? And our relationship? Wands, I’m committed to you. You said that you thought I would change? change to what? You never mention anything about this. You are all over the place now babe.” You responded as confusion showed up in your face.

“Oh don’t you babe me, y/n! I’m not all over the place!” Wanda refuses your words after stopping herself from walking back and forth. Tension is for sure escalated.

“Oh yes you are. First you didn’t talk to me in the quinjet, then you got mad because I was being reckless in the mission and then about me not being serious and never changing? What the hell?!” you added.

"You are childish, y/n. You know that, everybody knows that. " Wanda keeps arguing back at you. Rage bottled up inside her.

"I am younger than you but I'm not childish! What did you mean everybody knows that?" You deny her upsetting words wholeheartedly. "Well, if you weren't childish, you would’ve not listened to Yelena and teleported then get shot with Barton’s arrow! You always put your life in danger! You didn’t care about yourself or me.” Both you and Wanda start to yell at each other.

Anger clouded the two of you and mixed feelings slowly built up. “Always?” You genuinely ask but to Wanda, it’s like gasoline to her fire of rage.

“Yes! Always. You seriously forgot you almost got killed when you tried to kill the giant alien by yourself just so you can win your stupid bet with Yelena?! You know what, y/n, I’m dating you but I feel like I’m more babysitting you and I’m sick of it! I can't do this anymore." Wanda rambles in frustration as both her hands shoves her hair back off her face.

Your heart drops when you hear the last words she said. Tears start to pool in your eyes but you try hard to keep it in and swallow the lump in the back of your throat. "W-what did you mean? Are you breaking up with me?"

This time it was Wanda's stomach turn to churn hearing your question. She is as speechless as you are and doesn't know how to answer you but unfortunately, her silence was enough for you. WIthout saying a word, you walk away from you and proceed to pack your backpack.

The now bewildered Sokovian twin looks at you and asks “Y/n, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here. Apparently, you need some time to think and so am I. I’m going for a walk. Do not wait up.” You answered with a shaky tone, avoiding any possible eye contact to happen as you pick your pace filling up your backpack with your clothes and belongings. 

"Do not wait up? So you are not coming home? Where are you going to stay tonight? Y/n, don’t go." Wanda rambles her questions while trying to hold back her tears and anger at the same time..

"Natasha is staying at her parents house. So I'll stay there and hang out to clear my mind." You answered and in a split second, it turns Wanda’s sadness back to anger again.

"Oh I see. Yelena is there too. That's why you are going there tonight, right?" Another accusation forcing its way out through Wanda's words.

"What are you talking about? I'm going there to think and talk with my best friend, Nat and also for you to have your space to rethink what you just said. I'm starting to think, what is the main issue here? Is it about you being overprotected, about me being childish, or what?"

You wait for her answer but Wanda’s lips are shut. She refused to say what her main issue was. “I guess we both really need some time to calm down so we can discuss this together.” You quickly turn your head away from her so she wouldn’t see your tears and with heavy footsteps you leave Wanda alone.

_____

The next morning, Wanda looks for you as soon as she wakes up. She rushes to any room in the compound yet she has no luck in finding you.

Her steps bring her to the dining room, hoping that you are there having breakfast with the other teammates like usual. She catches the two Russian sisters in her eyesight instead of you. Her heart shakes and her stomach churns. Her instinct tells her something is not right.

“Nat, where is y/n?” puzzled yet alarmed, the brunette Avengers asks the redhead.

“I don’t know. Why? Didn’t you two go to your room together after we got back last night? Wands, is everything okay?” Natasha answers in perplexion. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“We uh had some argument last night and she said she needs space to think so she told me she was going to your parent’s place last night because you were there.” Wanda explains while avoiding eye contact with Yelena. Her throat feels thickened.

“No, I didn’t get any text or call from her and she didn’t come to see me either.” concern starts to rise inside both Natasha and Wanda.

“That’s weird, she didn’t answer my text last night and this morning. Did you try to call her yet?” Yelena chimes in.

A quick deep glare from Wanda goes straight to Yelena. “I’m still not talking with you because of yesterday.” Wanda responds coldly.

“Wait, what–” Yelena quickly questioned Wanda’s statement but was interrupted by Natasha right away. Natasha understands her best friend's reasoning on getting mad at Yelena.

“I’ll inform the others to start searching for her. Something is off.” Wanda nods at the idea as three of them get up and start doing what they know what should do next.

_____

Like an hourglass that is almost running out of its sand in it, the hours of the day are almost over. All the Avengers have been doing their part to find you but they still got no luck until this second. Wanda has been worried sick. Tony has been doing the best he can to hack anything he could to track you.

“Barton, did you find anything?” Steve asks Clint from the comm who is looking for you from an aerial view in the helicopter. “None, Captain.” Clint answers right away.

“I’m sure it’s all Hydra’s doing. Clint told me that Strucker talked to her before he ran away that day.” Wanda lets out her thoughts, her eyes red from crying for you.

“Not to mention she was one of his experiments.” Natasha added.

“Why doesn’t she at least try to teleport?” Yelena asks genuinely in confusion and gets another sharp stare from Wanda, as sharp as a dagger.

“Strucker probably use this thing that can block our power or weaken it if it’s put on around our neck. They put them on Wanda and I before and trust me, that thing hurts a lot..” The speedster Maximoff twins explains as he recalls the traumatic past of theirs.

“Then it will be hard to find her, we gotta hurry up so we won’t be too late.” Iron Man adds with a concerned tone.

Everybody forces their brain to think so they can find a way to get you back. Silence roaming around at the compound, Wanda’s heart wrenched and her body leaden. She keeps thinking and thinking but then she remembers one thing. One thing that only you and Wanda know about.

“I know a way to find her. I will try to telepathically communicate with her.” Wanda breaks the silence and everybody turns their heads to her instantly.

“Y/n can telepath?” The blonde captain asks.

“She has telepathy power this whole time and she didn't tell us?” The Stark company CEO looks surprised.

“We weren’t sure if it was a new power she developed or not. We thought it was more of a connection we have. She didn’t want to tell everybody until she was sure and knew how to use it.” Wanda backs you up with her response as tears roll down on her cheeks..

“Boys, that’s totally understandable. I’m sure she would eventually tell us about it. Now, Wanda, can you try it now? Try to feel, or talk to her or whatever you can do with it? We need it, to save your girlfriend.” Natasha endeavors in cutting the conversation short, leading them to focus on the most important thing. Her green eyes locked with Wanda’s as she holds the side of Wanda’s arms and tells her to start trying to feel or sense where you are at but mostly, if you are still alive.

With that, the brunette witch nods and she closes her eyes, focusing her mind on you.

_____

You were woken up with a huge splash of ice cold water to your face and a heavy voice startled you at the same time.

“Wake up! You call yourself an Avengers but you keep passing out and can’t handle the pain?” A mocking laugh and tone echoes. You slowly open your eyes, your vision is blurred as your eyes are adjusting with the bright light from the lamp above you.

Intense aching claws every single of your nerves. You flinch from the pain on your neck when you move your head to look around. You realized you are still at the same dark underground facility with the last time you were at. You have lost count how many times you passed out from the torment you are experiencing in just one night.

You are still sitting on a chair with your wrists and ankles are all tied up to it. You weakly try to get yourself out of it but it was all in vain.

“Let me go!” You demand with the last bit of the energy you have left. Your lungs painfully try to get some air for your whole body. A mix of blood, sweat and water flows from your head and rolls over your face.

“I told you, I will come back for you.” A familiar bone chilling male voice with a thick accent made its way to be heard. You know whose it is. All the coldness in the air wakes every little hair on your skin, the smells around you, the stinging pain forcing most of your pores and Strucker’s voice definitely takes the role as if it’s a time machine that brings you back to your traumatic life history.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” You grunt in agony.

“You and your power. I made you, I gave you the power you have now so you will serve Hydra but you joined the Avengers instead and that pissed me off!.” a hard slap lands on your cheek and jaws.

You spit the blood from your busted lips. With the last drop of vigor you have in you, you try to teleport but shortly you scream in such agitation from the collar electrocutes your neck and you hear Strucker’s maniac laugh as if he is enjoying what he sees and hears.

“Aw, where are you trying to teleport? You can’t run away from me again.This collar can prevent you from using your power.” A fake sympathy wrapped with a mocking tone flows between his words.

The tall man turns his back on you and yells a command in a foreign language you don’t understand and shortly after that, you are injected with a substance that brings out a lot more affliction in your body.

In a split second, your whole life flashes in front of you. Your sad childhood, your painful past after Hydra kidnapped you for the first time, the time you joined the Avengers and the time you saw Wanda’s green eyes that made you fall for her hard and helplessly.

Vivid images of her smiles parading in your mind with her laughter filling up your memories, the way she calls your name and all the pet names. You need her, you regretted that you left last night. You wished you didn’t and solved the argument with her. You tried your best to fight all these with exertion. You want to…no..you have to come home to your girlfriend.

You scream your lungs out, forcing yourself using your power to teleport even though the collar strikes you hard with a high voltage wave and forcing more harm to you but a soft soothing voice in your mind speaks to you and it stops you from screaming. “Y/n, can you feel me? Where are you?”

“Wanda?” You mumble her name weakly under your breath. Your chest rises and falls. You look around slowly trying to see if Wanda came. Her voice sounds crystal clear yet her presence isn’t anywhere near you..

You try to focus on listening to listen to everything you can and you hear something that gives you a clue where you are at. You close your eyes to try to connect your mind with hers.

_____

Red magic wisp lights up Wanda’s eyes as they are flooded with tears. Wanda can feel how you feel. She heard a faint answer from you. It drags her down when she hears how weak you are and it all comes together when she feels your pain.

“Y/n…” sorrow closes up her throat and plunges her into despair. In one blink, her tears escape.

"Wanda..what's wrong?" Natasha asks in such an anxious tone.

"Sestra? Is y/n okay?" Her twin brother lets out a question right after Natasha's.

"Please tell me she's still alive." Yelena's slavic accents disguise her worry about your safety.

"She's okay but she is in great pain, the same pain we had." Wanda's glistening eyes look at her brother, showing her vulnerability to him.

"So it's true, Hydra has her. Did she tell you where they keep her?"  Pietro digs more information through his words.

Wanda nods in acknowledgement and says in a low voice. "She said Liberty."

Tony quickly commands his A.I to search for the clue Wanda got. “Hydra has an underground facility under the liberty statue, way under it. It will take at least four hours to hack all their security systems and connections before we can invade them and save Y/n.”

Wanda marches her way to the door.

“Wanda, where are you going? We have to wait.” Steve indirectly lets out a command to her. Wanda turns her head and she clenches her fists and with gritted teeth she refuses his order “I’m not going to let them lay their hands on my Y/n any longer, not even a second!” as she continues her steps.

_____

You almost lost your consciousness once more but you can feel Wanda more and more as if her presence is coming close. You close your eyes, focusing on your mind. Doubling your effort to telepathy with her. “I love you, Wanda. I’m sorry.. Please don't get hurt.”

You can feel heartache, her heartache to be exact. The only thing that keeps you up at this moment is her anger that you are feeling and her high hope for you to be still alive until she gets there.

As your head slowly faces down with the energy you have left while Strucker’s men do a lot more research on you, you hear a lot of terrorized men screaming. It caught your attention. The more you try to hear it, the more other sounds you hear. Sound of automatic guns’ ammo fired in the distance and a more screaming voice followed with many loud thuds echoing through the darkness of the facility.

You start to notice everybody who is doing the research on you starts to panic and more of Strucker's army come out with their firearms.

A blanket of fear covers them even though they are prepared for what’s coming or perhaps who is coming.

A few of the armed men are being thrown to the walls and to the enormous iron gate that stands tall protecting the room you are in right now. Some shots fired even a little explosion sound passed through the barriers shortly before more guards got thrown even harder. You are sure that they are all dead.

Silence takes over the air all of a sudden and everybody around you watches in fright. All the front row guarded men even take a step back. The wicked scientists start to undo everything that’s on you to take you away from whoever tries to save you.

The shadow that’s reflected on the wall moves closer and closer to the gate as steps keep repeating, showing that someone is coming.

You weakly chuckle. You turn your head to the men on both of your sides. “You are all screwed now. My girlfriend is here and I’m sure she is pissed right now. Trust me you don’t want to pissed her off.” you coughed between mocking words that you said.

“Shut up! We're gonna take you away. She will die before she can save you.” The skinny man disguises his fears with his threat as he unties the straps to move you to the gurnee bed.

The huge iron gate bent and flew abruptly to the guards that was caused by the strong impact of the red wisps and crushed most of them to death easily.

Guns, weapons and men are flying around. Some of them are slammed to the stone walls. Some of them are thrown so hard to each other and knocked down to the ground.

Then there she is, the woman you love walks closer to you as soon as she sees you. You never saw her this furious, her eyes light up in crimson.

"Hands off!" In such fury, she commands and before you know it the red tendrils cover her hands then go straight to the two scientists next to you.

You see them scream fearfully for their lives as they are floating under Wanda's power above you. In a millisecond you hear a loud crack from their bones she crushes.

Without a doubt, they are deformed and die. Wanda throws their body to the ground like they are just a crumpled paper trash.

You feel her pain, anger and sadness yet there's a relieved feeling in her that makes you smile when her eyes slowly turn green again and catch your gaze. In a quick flinch of her finger, the collar on your neck broke and fell off your neck. You try to walk to her but your legs give up on holding your weight and you fall.

Wanda quickly catches you in her arms then lets you lay on her lap as her arms prompts your body up. "Detka? Oh my god, are you okay? I'm here, you are safe now. I will get you out here." She hugs you tight and rocks her body gently with you in her hugs, in a glance of hope it will make you feel better and safer.

“Wanda, did you find her? Clint, Yelena and I are coming with the quinjet to help you.” Natasha informed her through the comm.

“I took all the guards down. I have her with me now.” Wanda replied shortly.

After she responds Natasha, she looks at you  and runs her hand on your hair. “I’m sorry, malyshka. I should've not let you go that night. I should've told you that I was so jealous of how close you are with Yelena." Her cry sounds shaky, full of regret and guilt.

You grunt in pain after you let out a little laugh. “Wanda, Yelena likes Kate Bishop, a lot. I– I’m helping her to set up a date with Kate.”

She looks at you perplexed. “What? She likes Kate? Not you?”

You smile weakly, holding the pain as you nod slowly. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. You got hurt because of me.” Her eyes show a huge remorse. “Sssstt.. It’s alright. You could never hurt me. I just feel you.” You stuttered in comforting her.

In a cry, Wanda nods quickly. Her lips quivered, her tears dropped onto you.

"I love you, Wanda."

"I love you too, detka."

You heard an explosion, breaking the old walls to make a quicker exit path to the quinjet for you. Natasha rushed to the both of you.

“Oh my god, y/n! Are you okay? We gotta get you out of here. Steve and Tony already take down the rest of the guards.” Natasha asks and carefully examines your injuries as soon as they get to you.

“I’m okay, Nat. Don’t worry.” You smile, deep down you feel that you gradually gain your energy back after seeing two of your closest people are with you now. Wanda carefully elevates you with her magic and takes you to the quinjet as Natasha and Yelena watch the surroundings.

You float in the air passing Yelena as you get into the jet. “Geez, y/n, you look like hell. We should get your ass back to the compound.” Yelena comments with casual remarks, trying to cover how worried she is about you then follows you and Wanda.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a date with Kate tonight?” You joked around as your face weakly forms a smirk at her. Your joke lured an eye roll from Yelena.

“She canceled it.” Natasha casually answers while busy giving medical treatment to some of your injuries.

“Why?” you curiously asked.

“Because you were nowhere to be found and were in danger. Don’t worry, Kate understands the situation." Wanda hears Yelena's answers. Her eyes jump around between you and Yelena.

“Don’t worry, Yelena. I will help you set up the date for you and Kate.” Wanda’s words suddenly jump into the conversation before you can even reply.

Wanda looks at the blonde and smiles as her way to subtly fix the tension that was created between them by her jealousy.

“Really? Thank you, Wanda!” excitement is in Yelena’s tone as she smiles back.

Natasha and her sister leave you alone with Wanda on the flight back. Wanda stays next to you the whole time, holding your hand and loving you with all her heart. She looks at you dearly.

You pull her hand and lay it on your heart shortly before you ask "Tell me what do you feel, Wands."

She smiles and says "I just feel you."

A/n: Welp, that's it for today. Let me know what you think. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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[southernsolarpunk]

Hey check this out

I was making a zine (solarpunk ofc) and decided to use a bunch of old National Geographic magazines to cut up and use in a scrappy diy scrapbook fashion and of course I started reading them. This one in particular:

It caught my eye because it’s from September 1980 & talks about the Middle East. My brain wonders if they mention Palestine and they do! I copied the text for accessibility, but I put pictures at the end of the original pages.

“Jerusalem: reunited or occupied? The question has divided the city's 400,000 Jews and 100,000 Arabs since Israel annexed East Jerusalem in 1967.

BEIRUT, JANUARY 1975. Armed soldiers lead me through labyrinthine back streets, up a dark stairway to a midnight rendez-vous. Only a bare bulb lights the temporary command post; Yasir Arafat, chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization, seldom dares spend two days in the same place. “Our argument is not with the Jews” He tells me. "We are both Semites. They have lived with us for centuries. Our enemies are the Zionist colonizers and their backers who insist Palestine belongs to them exclusively.

We Arabs claim deep roots there too."

Two decades ago Palestinians were to be found in United Nations Relief Agency camps at places like Gaza and Jericho, in a forlorn and pitiable state. While Palestinian spokesmen pressed their case in world cap-itals, the loudest voice the world heard was that of terrorists, with whom the word Palestinian came to be associated. Jordan fought a war to curb them. The disintegration of Lebanon was due in part to the thousands of refugees within its borders.

Prospects for peace brightened, however, when President Anwar Sadat of Egypt, most powerful of the Arab countries, made his historic trip to Israel in November 1977. A year later Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin signed the Camp David accords, a framework for the return of the occupied Sinai Peninsula to Egypt.

The former enemies established diplomatic relations and opened mail, telephone, and airline communications.

The Camp David accords also addressed the all-important Palestinian question but left it vague. Sadat insists that any lasting peace depends on an eventual Palestinian homeland in the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Gaza. Israel agrees to limited autonomy for those regions, but, fearful of a new and hostile Palestinian state suddenly planted on its borders, insists that Israeli troops must maintain security there.

Crowded Rashidiyah refugee camp, set among orange groves south of the ancient Phoenician port of Tyre in Lebanon, lies on the front lines. Frequent pounding by Israeli military jets and warships seeking PLO targets has war-hardened its population, some 13,700 Palestinians.

At the schoolyard I watched a solemn flag raising. Uniformed ashbal, or lion cubs, stood rigid as color guards briskly ran up the green-white-and-black Palestinian flag.

Ranging in age from 8 to 12, they might have been Cub Scouts— except for the loaded rifles they held at present arms. Behind them stood two rows of girls, zaharat, or little flowers. Same age, same weapons.

Over lunch of flat bread, hummus, yo-gurt, and chicken I commented to my hosts, a group of combat-ready fedayeen, that 30 years of bitter war had settled nothing nor gained the Palestinians one inch of their homeland. Was there no peaceful way to press their cause?

"Yes, and we are doing it. Finally, after 30 years, most countries in the United Nations recognize that we too have rights in Palestine. But we feel that until your country stops its unconditional aid to Israel, we have two choices: to fight, or to face an unmarked grave in exile."

AFTER CROSSING the Allenby Bridge from Amman, I drove across the fertile Jordan Valley through Arab Jericho and past some of the controversial new Jewish settlements: Mitzpe Jericho, Tomer, Maale Adumim, Shilat. Then as I climbed through the steep stony hills to Jerusalem, I saw that it too had changed. A ring of high-rise apartments and offices was growing inexorably around the occupied Arab side of the walled town. Within the wall, too, scores of Arab houses had been leveled during extensive reconstruction.

"Already 64 settlements have been built on the West Bank," said a Christian Palestinian agriculturist working for an American church group in Jerusalem. "And another 10 are planned," he said. Unfolding a copy of the master plan prepared in 1978 by the World Zionist Organization, he read: "Real-izing our right to Eretz-Israel... with or without peace, we will have to learn to live with the minorities...

The Israeli Government has reaffirmed the policy. In Prime Minister Menachem Begin's words: "Settlement is an inherent and inalienable right. It is an integral part of our national security."

"Security" is a word deeply etched into the Israeli psyche. The country has lived for 30 years as an armed camp, always on guard against PLO raids and terrorist bombings.

Whenever such incidents occur, the response is quick: even greater retaliation.

In Jerusalem I met with David Eppel, an English-language broadcaster for the Voice of Israel. "We must continue to build this country. Israel is our lawful home, our des-tiny. We have the determination, and an immense pool of talent, to see it through." His cosmopolitan friends a city plan-ner, a psychology professor, an author gathered for coffee and conversation at David's modern apartment on Jerusalem's Leib Yaffe Road.

Amia Lieblich's book, Tin Soldiers on Jerusalem Beach, studies the debilitating effects almost constant war has had on life in the Jewish state, a nation still surrounded by enemies. As she and her husband kindly drove me to my hotel in Arab Jerusalem afterward, some of that national apprehension surfaced in the writer herself.

"We don't often come over to this part of town," she said. "Especially at night."

I DROVE OUT of the Old City in the dark of morning and arrived a few hours later at the nearly finished Israeli frontier post, whence a shuttle bus bounced me through no-man's-land to the Egyptian ter-minal. As a result of the Egyptian-Israeli treaty, it was possible for the first time since 1948 to travel overland from Jerusalem to Cairo. An Egyptian customs man opened my bags on a card table set up in the sand. I took a battered taxi into nearby El Arish, to a sleepy bank that took 45 minutes to convert dollars into Egyptian pounds, Then 1 hired a Mercedes for the

200-mile run across the northern Sinai des-ert, the Suez Canal, and the Nile Delta. By sundown Cairo was mine.

Despite official government optimism, I found many in Cairo worried that President Sadat's bold diplomatic gestures might fail.

The city was noticeably tense as Israel officially opened its new embassy on Mohi el-Din Abu el-Ez Street in Cairo's Dukki quarter. Black-uniformed Egyptian troops guarded the chancery and nearby intersections as the Star of David flew for the first time in an Arab capital. Across town, police with fixed bayonets were posted every ten feet around the American Embassy. Others were posted at the TV station and the larger hotels. Protests were scattered, mostly peaceful. None disturbed the cadence of the city.

Welcoming ever larger delegations of tourists and businessmen from Europe and the U.S., Cairo was busier than ever-and more crowded. Despite a building boom, many Egyptians migrating from the countryside, perhaps 10,000 a month, still find housing only by squatting among tombs at the City of the Dead, the huge old cemetery on the southeast side of the capital.

Even with the new elevated highway and wider bridge across the Nile, half-hour traffic standstills are common. Commuters arrive at Ramses Station riding even the roofs of trains, then cram buses until axles break.

Cairo smog, a corrosive blend of diesel fumes and hot dust from surrounding des-erts, rivals tear gas.

Despite the rampant blessings of prog-ress, Cairo can still charm. In the medieval Khan el-Khalili bazaar near Cairo's thousand-year-old Al-Azhar University, I sought out Ahmad Saadullah's sidewalk café. I found that 30 piasters (45 cents) still brings hot tea, a tall water pipe primed with tobacco and glowing charcoal, and the latest gossip. The turbaned gentleman on the carpeted bench opposite was unusually talk-ative; we dispensed with weather and the high cost of living and got right to politics:

"Of course I am behind President Sadat, but he is taking a great risk. The Israelis have not fully responded. If Sadat fails, no other Arab leader will dare try for peace again for a generation."

Across town at the weekly Akhbar El-Yom newspaper, one of the largest and most widely read in the Middle East, chief editor Abdel-Hamid Abdel-Ghani drove home that same point.

"What worries me most is that President Sadat's agreement with Israel has isolated Egypt from our brother nations," he told me. "When Saudi Arabia broke with us, it was a heavy loss. The Saudis are our close neighbors. Now they have canceled pledges for hundreds of millions in development aid to Egypt. Some 200,000 Egyptians-teach-ers, doctors, engineers live and work in the kingdom.

"And Saudi Arabia, guardian of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, remains for Muslim Egypt a spiritual homeland."

This magazine was published before my mom was born, and yet the sentiments have basically unchanged. An interesting look at the past, and more proof this didn’t start October 7th. (But imagine my followers already knew that)

[pitufitaispunk]

Velvet Ring

Chapter Two: Florería

Pairing: Riff x Latina! Reader (West Side Story 2021)

Velvet Ring Masterlist

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I hurriedly make my way from the apartment to the florería just a few blocks away on Mulberry Street, hoping I wouldn't be late. Señora Rivera, albeit kind and generous, was a very strict woman. Especially when it came to punctuality. I sigh in relief as I check my watch just before entering the shop — 8:58am, three minutes early. I push open the door and rush inside.

"Buenos días, Señora Rivera." I say cheerily, the little bell above the door jingling as I walk in. I look around curiously as I'm met with silence, then laugh as I spot her snoring in her rocking chair behind the counter. I tiptoe to the back room and find my coworkers, Marisol and Lupita sat at the tiny circular table set up in one corner, gossiping away. They look up at me with wide eyes as if they were children who had been caught eating sweets before dinner.

"Buenos días, muchachas." I greet them, a slight smirk on my face as they giggle vivaciously.

"Buenos días, Y/N, ¿cómo están Anita y Bernardo?" Marisol asks, standing from her seat to tie her apron around her waist.

I hang up my purse on the coat rack next to the door and grab my own apron out of my cubby, "Eh, están bien. Nardo has been at the gym a lot lately, he's been coming home with more bruises and cuts. Me preocupa por el." Marisol and Lupita hum in understanding. I smile meekly and tie my apron tightly around my waist, "Pero Anita esta muy bien, she's been getting a lot of work at the dress shop. I ask her if she's tired of it, but you know Anita, she's a hard worker. Dice que está feliz de tener más trabajo."

Lupita tosses her graying curls up into a bun and laughs, "Esa Anita, I admire her really. I work with flowers for a few hours a day and then I go home, complaining to Berto that my back aches. No sé cómo me aguanta ese hombre." Marisol and I laugh. Lupita and her husband, Roberto, have been together since they were about my age and they've been married for 40 years now. Lupita always joked that Berto was probably tired of her and that one day he'd leave her for a less irritating woman, but every time he looks at her, all I see is love in his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, I still hadn't been able to stop thinking about that Jet I saw at the market today. His face kept popping up in my head, even though I have absolutely no interest in a boy like that. How could I? The Jets torment Puerto Ricans constantly, I even got a live demonstration of that today. But that didn't stop my wandering mind.

I snap out of my thoughts as Marisol pinches my arm teasingly, "¿Y tú, jovencita? Has Bernardo still been trying to find your future husband?" Lupita cackles at this, making me frown.

I sigh in exhaustion and nod, "He won't give it a rest. He's tried setting me up with at least 5 of his friends these past few months! They're all nice boys, pero... Bernardo me trata como una bebé."

Lupita pats my back, "No te preocupes, nena. He'll come around and see that he doesn't need to be so protective of you anymore." I give her a small smile and nod. I hope she's right.

Just then, the break room slams open. Señora Rivera stands there in the doorway, rubbing her tired eyes, "Muchachitas, ¿están aquí para trabajar o para hablar todo el día?" We all laugh and hurry out of the break room to get to work.

I take my usual place behind the counter, so that Señora Rivera can continue napping. Lupita begins putting the freshly delivered flowers into beautiful arrangements, while Marisol grabs her watering can and starts pouring into the pots of the flowers in the windows. It's this kind of perfect harmony everyday and although it can be a bit mundane at times, I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

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After a busy day, at 3:00, Señora Rivera sends us home, half an hour earlier than we usually get off. I guess she was feeling generous today. Lupita, Marisol, and I hurry to put our aprons away and grab our purses before walking out the back door into the alley behind the shop.

"¡Hasta mañana, Y/N!" They call to me as they walk towards the opposite end of the alley. Lupita and Marisol live a bit further away from the florería than I do, so they take the subway to and from work together.

"Hasta mañana." I call back before turning to walk away.

I then bump into a hard chest.

My heart drops. I feel too terrified to even look up at whoever I just bumped into, but then, I notice the familiar tattoos on their arms. I slowly lift my gaze and am met with those same blue eyes from earlier today. I don't say anything, I just stare up at the Jet. His face was curious as he looked down at me, it frightened me a little. I've heard that the Jets were unpredictable and in this moment, I couldn't tell if this boy was about to kiss me or kill me. At this point, I don't know which would be worse. His face breaks into a soft grin and he finally speaks to me.

"I saw you earlier today, didn't I?" He asks, his expression turning smug now. I quickly shake my head, not daring to speak. He laughs and it sounds strangely warm, "No, I did. I'd remember those big eyes of yours anywhere. You're like a deer in headlights. You usually like that?" He cranes his neck, trying to lower himself to my height. I shake my head again and he straightens up, smirking softly, "Well, I'll see you around, chica." He says those words with such confidence that it makes my brows pinch. How was he so sure he'd see me again? And what gave him the right to talk to me at all?

I huff softly and begin walking past him, clutching my purse tightly, just in case he tries something. I hear him chuckle behind me and I just know he's watching me walk away. The thought makes my cheeks flush furiously.

As I turn out of the alley, I bump into yet another hard chest. I huff a laugh, feeling a bit stupid now, before looking up. Luckily, it was a familiar face this time.

"Hola, Manuel. ¿Cómo estás?" I greet Bernardo's friend politely with a smile, softening my grip on my purse.

He smiles sweetly down at me, rocking on his heels, "Hola, Y/N. Estoy bien, what about you? You look a little startled." He quirks a brow at me, taking in my still pinched brows.

I relax my face and laugh awkwardly, quickly thinking of some absurd story in my head. "I'm fine, I just had a... uh, little scare with a stray cat in the alley. Pobrecito, deberías haberlo visto. He was all bones, chewing on an old shoe, but being skinny didn't stop him from nearly clawing my face off." I laugh again, Manuel laughs along with me, but I can tell he's just doing it to be polite.

He clears his throat and tucks his hands into his pockets nervously, "Y/N, quería preguntarte algo..." My lips quirk into a thin line. I had a feeling Bernardo would try and get another one of his friends to ask me out again, it had been too quiet lately. With the dance coming up in just a few weeks, I figured that's what Manuel would ask me about.

I quickly pretend to check my watch and suck in a breath of air through my teeth, "Ay, Manuel, perdón. I really have to go, Anita needs help with cleaning the apartment today and I promised I'd help her. ¡Adiós!" I wave to him and quickly run down the block. Sure, it was immature and rude, but I just couldn't deal with another one of Bernardo's insane matchmaking attempts today.

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I rush into the apartment and close the door behind me, slumping against it tiredly. At this time of day, Nardo was at the gym and Anita was at the dress shop. It was a small window of time in the apartment that was just for me.

I kick off my flats and hang my purse up on the key rack next to the door before waltzing into my bedroom. I kick my door shut and flop face down onto my bed, snuggling into my blanket. Thankfully, the heat had gone down just a bit and the yarn in my blanket didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as it did this morning. I turn over onto my back and sigh contentedly, staring up at the ceiling. My moment of peace is then interrupted by a flash of the Jet's face in my mind. My smile drops. I turn onto my stomach again, bury my face in my pillow and groan in frustration. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? Maybe there's something wrong with me.

I climb out of my bed and walk over to my bedroom window, opening up the lace curtains to soak in the sunshine. I open up the window and climb onto the fire escape, hoping the fresh air would help me ease my mind. I sit on the steps and close my eyes, basking in the fresh air and sun rays. Then, I remember what that Jet said to me and it makes everything worse!

"I'd remember those big eyes of yours anywhere..."

I scoff to myself, my cheeks flushed. What did that even mean?! Was he trying to flirt with me? Did I like it? No. This is not happening. I don't even know his name! But I do know one very important thing. He is a Jet. That should be enough reason for me to drop this silly idea... but it isn't. That Jet was flirting with me and some sick part of me liked it. There is no denying it, no matter how hard I try. Just then, an idea strikes my mind. A way to get the Jet out of my head for good. A solution that's been staring me in the face, presenting itself to me time and time again. Well, now I will finally give in. Now, I will let it happen. I am going to let Nardo set me up with one of his friends.

This is sure to work! Most of Nardo's friends are handsome and fun. How could I possibly think of the Jet when I'm with a Shark? It's a foolproof plan. When Bernardo and Anita come home, I will surrender. After three long months of dodging dates left and right, I will tell Nardo that I've been considering his words and I've decided to go to the dance with one of his friends. Nardo will most likely choose Manuel. I wouldn’t be upset about it being Manuel. He's a good looking boy with his tan skin, curly brown hair, and perfect teeth. Yes, this is a good plan. A solid plan.

I smile triumphantly to myself before climbing through the window back into my bedroom. I sigh softly and begin tidying up a bit. I need to busy myself, I can't think about this too long or I'll regret it before it even happens.

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When Anita and Bernardo get home at around 5:00, I usher them to sit with me at the dining table. I smile at them, they both give me a look like I'm crazy, then I clear my throat, "I've decided on something. I think this will satisfy you both."

Bernardo quirks a brow at me, "Well, spit it out, pollita."

I laugh softly and nod, "Okay... I am going to let you choose my date for the dance."

Anita's eyes widen in surprise and Bernardo grins broadly, "¡Finalmente! I've been waiting for you to say this, it's a miracle!"

Anita rolls her eyes at him as he continues going on his rant of triumph. Nardo then stands from the table, "I'm going to tell Manuel!" He runs out of the apartment in excitement, shutting the door behind him.

Anita quirks a brow at me in suspicion, "So... why have you suddenly given up? What's going on with you?"

I pinch my brows, "¿De que estás hablando?"

She stands from her seat and circles the table until she stands before me, "You know what I'm talking about. Just today you were whining to me, saying that you didn't want to go to the dance because your brother would try to get you to go with one of his friends. What made you change your mind?"

I laugh, shaking my head, "Nada, I'm just trying to be a good sister and make life easier for my brother."

Anita gives me a look like she doesn't believe me, but backs off anyway, "Okay... if you say so, Y/N."

I give her a soft smile, "Don't worry about me, Anita."

She laughs, gently pulling me into a hug, "I always worry."

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[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 1

The heat of the flight line radiated up through your flats as you raised your hand to shield your eyes, tracking the contrails of the incoming jets - the newest batch of F-35 Lightnings. The DoD had recently increased the number of planes they had ordered from your company, and as one of the contract writers based on the West Coast, you had the pleasure of being on the flight line when they were delivered. After inspecting the merchandise, the Navy pilots jumped into the cockpits to take their new jets for a joy ride. You smiled, watching one tip the wings before climbing steeply. To this day, feeling the roar of an engine in your chest and seeing the beauty of the afterburner made you think of your dad. Snapping a quick picture to send him later, you turned to join your coworkers in the shady hangar. 

The small crowd had grown, circling and ducking under the planes to get a closer look. When you lifted your phone again to take a picture of the tail code, you heard someone behind you. “Want me to get one with you in it?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you said before turning to face him. His green eyes snapped up to your face - he’d clearly been checking you out. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you plastered on your customer service expression. “Are you one of the Lightning crew?” 

“No, just coming to check out the new toys. I fly a Super Hornet.” 

“Nice,” you replied, eyes drifting down to read his name badge - Seresin. When you met his gaze again, he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and drawing attention to his biceps - you’d seen that move used too many times - and nodded to the plane.  

“You one of the engineers?”

“No,” you replied, feeling a slight twinge of regret. “Just a paper pusher.” 

“That right?” 

“Yup.” 

“Any idea what the top speed for one of those is?” he asked, tipping his chin towards the F-35. 

“A little less than the Super Hornet - Mach 1.6 with a full weapons load. Better stealth capabilities, though.”

“More expensive, from what I’ve heard.”

“Well, upgrading old tech comes with a price tag. And they’ll be less expensive to maintain than the F-18.”

“The Super Hornet isn’t old tech,” he replied, the corner of his mouth tipping down. 

“Of course not. For a fourth-gen fighter, it’s holding up well, but times are changing and so is air warfare. For example, the F-18 would have difficulty doing an ISR mission whereas our F-35 would be well up to mission parameters.” 

“If they’re sending in the F-18, the time for intel and surveillance is over and it’s time to get down to business.” 

“Of course…for air-to-air combat. Or the F-35 can continue the mission with its wide weapons array and ability to do air-to-air and air-to-ground combat.” 

“Not certified for a nuke, though.”

“Not yet, but we’re working on that certification,” you shot back. “The ability to take off and land vertically is a nice trade-off, though. How long of a runway does the F-18 need again?”

“Less than a thousand on a carrier.” Behind you, you heard someone call ‘Hangman!’ and Seresin lifted his head in acknowledgment. 

“Exactly.” 

“You sure you’re not an engineer?” 

“Just a good saleswoman. Give it a few years, and you’ll also be in one of our jets. You’ll have to tell me how it compares to the Super Hornet.” Glancing at his collar and clocking the double bars, you smiled and tilted your head. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lieutenant Seresin. I’ll let you get to your friends now.” With that, you turned and walked to join your colleagues. 

“Nice chatting with you, Ma’am,” he called out. You felt his eyes on your back but, as a woman in the male-dominated defense contracting industry, it wasn’t uncommon. This was exactly why you dressed in slacks and loose blouses more often than not - no need to draw more attention than necessary. That hadn’t stopped you from updating your resume more than once after a rough day at work, ignoring one too many comments from old men who thought you were a secretary instead of someone in charge of multimillion-dollar negotiations. At least the pilot had called you an engineer. 

“Happy hour?” your boss asked, throwing an unwelcome arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side. You pasted on an uncomfortable smile and nodded, wanting nothing more than to go home and open a bottle of wine on your own.

Growing up, you’d never imagined being a defense contractor. While other little girls dreamed of being a teacher or president, you dreamed of being in the Air Force. Your dad had been a jet engine mechanic for the Air Force and loved nothing more than bringing you to the test cells to see what the squadron was working on. When your family moved to Japan, he would sit on the back patio overlooking the flight line at sunset, pointing out each plane landing to you. He quizzed you on the tail codes until you could identify where most planes were based. Back stateside, you went to every airshow nearby, watching the beauty of physics and engineering lifting the plane from the ground, the acrobatic twists of the jets, and the majestic thrumming of the C-130’s turboprops. Once you got your license, there was no greater thrill than driving your dad’s Mustang with the top down on the base and seeing the jets descending on the flight line next to you. 

For a long time, everyone in your family thought you would follow in his footsteps. You’d taken the ASVAB and SAT’s to keep your options open. When you qualified to go into mechanics, recruiters from every branch called and pressed you to come to sign papers to enlist. You kept pushing them off, wanting to keep your options open as long as possible as you waited for the responses from your college applications. And besides, it was blue or bust - there was no way you would go into any branch other than the Air Force. In the meantime, Dad worked with you to prepare for basic training. Running, push-ups, and pull-ups became your after-school workout. He took you on base to talk to some of the women in his squadron. They were frank with you about the benefits and downsides of the military - the pay was okay and the travel was great, but you had to put up with a lot of shit. Being away from family was hard, and there was no control over where you moved. Too many of them had stories about sexual harassment. But if you were going to join a branch, the Air Force was the way to go. 

After that talk, you went to lunch with your dad. He wanted you to know what you would be getting into if you joined. While he loved his time in the service and what it had given your family, it would be different for you. You would face things he couldn’t imagine being a woman in the military. He assured you that he didn’t want you to decide based on his feelings but only what you wanted. 

You enrolled in college two hours from home that fall and decided to pursue engineering. If you weren’t in the Air Force, you could at least be near planes. Sure, the math was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. There were lots of nights spent huddled in the library, working through your physics and thermodynamics homework instead of hitting up the bars with your roommates. The hardest part of school was dealing with your classmates. Most of the time, you were the only woman in the class. Sexist jokes came from classmates and professors. 

“If you’re just trying to get an MRS degree, I’d be happy to make that sacrifice for you,” one guy said, winking over the top of his laptop. 

You made sure to study extra hard for the next test and smirked in his direction when you set the exam curve.  

College wasn’t all work, though. You found time to date, trying to avoid STEM boys in favor of social sciences and humanities (finance and business guys were too arrogent). You lost your virginity after a night at the club where your boyfriend used his fake ID to get banded, chasing shots with horrible gin and tonic. It was okay - the touch was nice but you hadn’t gotten off. When recapping with your friends the next morning, they assured you that sex got better. It didn’t with that particular guy and you broke it off before the end of the semester. 

After twenty-six years in the military, your dad announced his retirement. You traveled home for the ceremony, crying with your mom when he thanked you both for going on the adventure of a lifetime with him.

Less than a year later, he was diagnosed with colon cancer.

Angry that something like this could happen to him, you dove into researching what could have caused it. And, buried in a journal online, you found a study linking jet fuel to colon cancer. 

Your parents were confused when you changed your major. Your advisor tried to talk you out of it - your grades were decent, and you were halfway through the program. Desperate to graduate on time and avoid STEM, you switch to English and turned your analytical brain to rhetoric and editing. 

Dad breezed through chemo, walking miles around the hospital during his sessions. You picked up an extra shift at the grocery store when he asked you to see an airshow with him. When you came home for Thanksgiving, he tossed you the keys to the Mustang and said it was time for a cruise on the beach. You put the top down while your dad collected the list of things to pick up from the base commissary on the way home. 

The breeze off the Gulf was cold but you didn’t care - Dad cranked the heater and music, grinning at you as you easily navigated the slower traffic. When you first got your license, he’d nicknamed you his fighter pilot with how you forced your way into spots between vehicles. You were never sure if it was a compliment or not. But today… today he was happy, and you could ignore the chemo port on his chest that tented his shirt and try to forget why he was bald.

You switched in a parking lot, and he drove you onto the base. But rather than go straight to the commissary, he followed the road to his old squad headquarters. When you asked what you were doing there, he shrugged while putting the top up, said he needed to drop something off and motioned for you to come inside. You refused. But when he was inside for over half an hour, and the car started to swelter, you got out and followed him. When you tentatively knocked on the door he’d gone through, it swung open and an airman smiled before handing you a pair of ear protectors and motioning you in.

Dad stood at the observation deck, watching the engine cycle through the start-up and cool down, the glow of the afterburn reflecting in his eyes. You could smell the jet fuel and felt bile rise in your throat. When the engine stopped screaming, you grabbed your dad’s hand and asked to leave. After waving goodbye to his friends, he led you outside. Rather than going to the car, however, he pulled you into the hanger. Grinning, he walked towards the F-35 and raised his hand to run it along the wing.

“I miss this,” he said, turning back to smile at you. “Where’s this one from?” 

“Cannon, New Mexico,” you replied after glancing at the tail code, the fuel smell choking you. “Can we get out of here?” 

“Come on, kiddo, let your old man have a moment to relive his glory days.”

“Your glory days are what’s trying to kill you,” you snapped without thinking. Dad’s arm dropped, and he turned to face you, raising an eyebrow. His calm expression was so frustrating that you couldn’t hold it in any longer - it didn’t matter that two men were sitting on top of the plane next to you. “This is what’s trying to kill you, Dad! The fucking jet fuel you breathed in every day had carcinogens, and you want to stay here longer to breathe more of it in?” 

A few tears escaped your tight control as you turned on your heel and stormed out of the hanger. Your nails dug into your palms as you collapsed back into the car passenger seat. It was a few minutes later that he joined you. Rather than turning the ignition, he stared out the windshield. “Is this why you dropped out of engineering?” You stayed silent. “Honey, talk to me. Your mom and I are worried.” Slowly, you nodded, feeling his eyes on you. When he reached for your hand, you let him take it. “Look at me, please. I need you to hear me when I say this to you, young lady.”

“What?”

“We’re never gonna know what caused this cancer, okay? Yeah, it might have been the fuel or a million other things. But you don’t get to give up your dream because of this, alright? You don’t get to give up something you love because of something that happened to me.” 

“It’s not just happening to you, Dad,” you whispered. 

“I know, sweetheart. But I’m okay, and I want you to be, too. And if that means you never get near another plane again, I’ll be sad to lose my co-pilot, but I’ll support you. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to, but don’t lose your passion because of me.” 

True to his word, Dad hadn’t asked you to attend any airshows with him but would mention them in passing when you called to check-in. When he got his clean bill of health, they threw a party and some of his airmen dropped by the house to celebrate, bringing him a model of the F-15s he’d worked on as a gift. He returned to work as a defense contractor and was back on the flight line doing quality assurance checks after repairs were finished. And he stayed in remission. With each clean bill of health his oncologist gave him, the more you found yourself looking at his memorabilia around the house - pictures of the planes he’d worked on, model airplanes, and squadron plaques. It was too late to return to engineering, but you found yourself wandering to the university career center to see their suggestions to combine your love of aircraft with writing. They helped you draft your resume, and when you graduated with your degree in english with a minor in engineering, you’d secured a job with one of the largest defense contracting companies in the US in their contract writing division. 

“To another successful delivery!” Dutifully, you and your coworkers raised your glasses to toast the latest success. While they tossed back their drinks to make the most of the happy hour special, you nursed your beer while picking at the pretzel bites you’d ordered. They’d chosen a bar not far from the base, but on the opposite side of town from your apartment. Your eyes drifted across the other patrons, not really taking anyone. 

When your beer was almost gone, you excused yourself and walked to the restroom to wash the pretzel salt and oil from your hands, ready to escape for the evening. But when you walked back into the bar, one of the servers stopped you. “A guy over there wanted me to give this to you,” she said, handing you a fresh beer. Glancing at it, you frowned, wondering if one of your coworkers was playing a joke on you. 

“Who?” you asked. Turning, she pointed to a man in khaki leaning against the bar and talking to someone. As if feeling your gaze, he turned and smirked, lifting his drink and nodding. 

Seresin. 

Taking a deep breath and steeling your shoulders, you thanked her and took the beer. Glancing at your coworkers to ensure they weren’t watching, you walked toward the bar, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. You would return the beer, thank him, and then head home to relax. As you neared, he pushed off the bar with a smile and wink before retreating towards the dartboard where a group of Navy guys were congregated. Debating the merits of confronting him in front of a group or sucking it up, you swallowed your pride. You took a sip of the beer, and resigned yourself to at least another half an hour there, listening to some truly atrocious stories about dating and time in the military from your coworkers. 

When the second beer was finished, you quickly said goodnight to your coworkers and went to the bar to close out your tab. “Looks like it’s already covered,” the bartender said when you flagged him down.

“What do you mean? I didn’t leave my card with you.”

“Looks like someone picked it up and left this,” he shrugged, passing you a napkin. Nothing sexier than a woman who knows her way around a jet. Dinner? You looked at the phone number and took a deep breath. 

“I’d like to close out that gentleman’s tab,” you said, handing over your credit card. While he rang you out, you grabbed one of your business cards from your wallet, crossed out your office phone number, and underscored your job title. On the back you wrote 1) Thank you 2) Not a tag chaser 3) I don’t date boys in bags 4) CONFLICT OF INTEREST

When he handed you the receipt to sign, you asked him to give the card to Seresin. Then, leaving the napkin on the bar, you turned and saw him frowning in your direction. Smiling, you waved before making your way outside. 

Your pajamas were calling.

-----------------------------------------

Author's note: The connection between jet fuel and cancer is my dad's story. He's thankfully fine. Tag chasers are people who actively try to date military members (usually for the benefits), and boys in bags is a reference to men in flight suits.

Read Chapter 2

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SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

The SR-71 Blackbird

The SR-71 reconnaissance aircraft was the world’s fastest jet-propelled aircraft and the most advanced member of the Blackbird family developed by Lockheed Aircraft Corporation’s clandestine “Skunk Works” division.

The Blackbird was in a different category from anything that had come before. “Everything had to be invented. Everything,” Skunk Works legendary aircraft designer Kelly Johnson recalled in an interesting article appeared on Lockheed Martin website.

The speed of the SR-71 exceeded 2,000 mph. Other planes of the era could, in theory, approximate that speed but only in short, after-burner-driven bursts. The Blackbird maintained a record-setting speed for hours at a time.

Cool Video Explains how SR-71 Blackbird’s J58 Turbo-Ramjet Engine Works

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

One of the most entertaining stories about flying the Blackbird comes from Lt. Colonel William Burk Jr., who shares about a particular mission he flew [according to SR-71 pilot Stormy Boudreaux, Tom Henichek was Burk’s RSO for that mission] over Lebanon back in 1982 in the book Skunk Works by Ben Rich.

Blackbird over Lebanon

‘In the fall of ’82, I flew from Mildenhall on a mission over Lebanon in response to the Marine barracks bombing. President Reagan ordered photo coverage of all the terrorist basis in the region. The French refused to allow us overfly, so our mission profile was to refuel off the south coast of England, a Mach 3 cruise leg down the coast of Portugal and Spain, left turn through the Straits of Gibraltar, refuel in the Western Mediterranean, right turn into Lebanon and fly right down main street Beirut, exit along the southern Mediterranean with another refueling over Malta, supersonic back out the straits, and return to England.

‘Because Syria had a Soviet SA-5 missile system just west of Damascus that we would be penetrating (we were unsure of Syria’s intentions in this conflict), we programmed to fly above 80,000 feet and at Mach 3 plus to be on the safe side, knowing that this advanced missile had the range and speed to nail us.

SR-71 pilot recalls when his RSO Flipped Off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot (Then They lit their Blackbird’s Afterburners and Outran him)

‘As we entered Lebanon’s airspace my Recon Systems Officer in the rear cockpit informed me that our defensive systems display showed we were being tracked by that SA-5. About 15 seconds later we got a warning of active guidance signals from the SA-5 site. We couldn’t tell whether there was an actual launch or the missile was still on the rails, but they were actively tracking us. We didn’t waste any time wondering, but climbed and pushed that throttle, and said a couple of “Hail Kellys.”

SR-71 crew flipping off a French Air Force Mirage III Pilot

‘We completed our pass over Beirut and turned toward Malta, when I got a warning low-oil-pressure light on my right engine. Even though the engine was running fine I slowed down and lowered our altitude and made a direct line for England. We decided to cross France without clearance instead of going the roundabout way.

‘We made it almost across, when I looked out the left window and saw a French Mirage III sitting ten feet off my left wing. He came up on our frequency and asked us for our Diplomatic Clearance Number. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I told him to stand by. I ask my backseater, who said, “Don’t worry about it. I just gave it to him.” What he had given him was “the bird” with his middle finger: I lit the afterburners and left that Mirage standing still. Two minutes later, we were crossing the Channel.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X