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bookishlilcorner · 3 years ago

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Agents of Night and Starlight - Chapter 1

A Nessian, Gwynriel and Elucien centric fanfic series (with Emorie on the side).

Modern Fantasy!AU, Fantasy action, Fluff, Angst

TW(s): mentions of stalking, dating violence, sexual violence and abuse. Violence, blood and swearing.

Word Count: 6k

I hope you enjoy the first chapter. I edited it over and over again and I hope it’s good enough and it brings you joy reading it.

Sypnosis: In another universe where ACOTAR is set in a modern fantasy world, the Valkyries are an independent group of secret agents composed of Agent Silver, Agent Ghost, Agent Nymph and Agent Ivy walking the streets of Velaris with one goal in mind: to take down the biggest criminals corrupting the City of Starlight. One night, a particularly dark mission causes them to encounter four members of a unit called the IC working under the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Despite being at each other’s throats, the rulers of Night decide to make them work together in order to stop a death lord from raising an army of the undead and launching what could become the bloodiest war in Prythian history. With trainings, missions, secrets revealed, friendships and love at the rendez-vous, they will have to work hard to bring down the death lord threatening the fragile peace in Prythian, that is if they don’t tear each other apart first.

SERIES: Part 1 - Part 2 -

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“Silver, do you have a clear view of the target?” A deep, sensually feminine voice echoed in the earpiece.

“Yes, Ghost. He is approaching the dealer as we speak.” She answered, crouched behind a wall.

The skin-tight black leather clothes she always wore were particularly unnerving tonight, and the familiar scent of spray paint coating the wall induced a small headache to her temples. The autumnal rain tonight was annoying. She felt sticky, wet and uncomfortable. She tucked a strand of light brown hair that escaped from her usually perfect braided bun behind her delicately arched ear, synonymously High Fae. She couldn’t wait to get out of here and be in her warm bed reading her romance novel with a piece of chocolate praline cake.

She surveyed the three men discussing in front of the backdoor of a tall building owned by some big do-gooder company for lesser faeries, her gun pointing right at them. It was a simple black customized handgun with silver details of thorns and flames, adapted for a variety of ammunition. Guns were a creation brought to the Fae by humans after the new peace treaty promising peaceful co-existence, protection, trade and alliance. Usually, her gun had bullets made from ash wood, particularly toxic to the Fae, but tonight, she charged it with darts containing a tranquillizer powerful enough to render a Fae unconscious for 4 hours.

“Are you sure you have the right darts this time, Silver?” A sweet, honey-like voice said through the small electronic device in her ear.

“Yes, Ivy’s right. Last time, she didn’t check and shot a Laughter at a Leprechaun. I could barely concentrate on the task without laughing my ass off. You know how hilarious a Leprechaun’s laugh can be.” Another voice, this one mystic, deep and yet so clear like a siren’s, said with a laugh.

Oh, there’s that headache again.

“Since when are there Leprechauns in Velaris, Nymph?” Ghost asked.

“They arrived from the continent two months ago. I told you about it last time at Ivy’s shop. Did you forget? Or were you too busy staring at the beautiful Elvish woman to retain any information?” Nymph answered with a cheeky tone in her voice clearly indicating tease.

Ivy’s sweet laugh echoed in the earpiece, making the crouched female roll her eyes. “Was it an Elf or a High Fae? I swear, we look too much alike.”

“Pretty sure it was an Elf. They got this-”

“Girls, shut the fuck up. I’m trying to aim here and your gossiping is making my headache even worse.” Silver said through clenched teeth.

“Well, that one’s on you. You insisted on having that damned coffee this afternoon. You know that too much caffeine-”

“Gwyn, seriously. Shut up.”

“Nesta! We agreed to use our code names. What if someone hacked into our system?”

“My system? Please. That would take some a prodigy hacker.” Ivy scoffed.

“Elain is getting pretty arrogant.” Ghost laughed. “Three months since your sister joined us and she’s already turned like us, Nesta.”

Nesta rolled her grayish blue eyes, annoyed. “Seriously, we need to focus on our mission. I’m getting tired of crouching here in the cold with sticky clothes. Emerie, do you have eye on anyone suspicious at the charity event?”

“It’s Ghost, by the way.”

“I don’t care.”

Emerie rolled her eyes and looked around the spacious, sumptuous ball room filled with guests, all lesser fairies. They all had formal attire, beautiful dresses and suits fitting the color theme of the occasion: navy blue, gold and white. She herself was dressed for the occasion, and for infiltrating, with a pearly white skin-tight midi dress and gold, Illyrian designed jewelry adorning her brown skin. Her black wings, large, wide and bat-like, characteristic of her Illyrian heritage, were tucked in behind her back. Her hair, smooth and thick, the color of a raven’s feathers, was untied, cascading down to her waist. An all golden headpiece of roses and vines details sat on top of her head, its biggest rose on her forehead.

An Illyrian queen. That’s what she looked like.

She stared at everyone, shaking her head. “No. No one here acting like a homicidal maniac with a thirst for blood. Or illegal weed, in our case.”

“Both works.” Gwyn said.

Elain giggled and Nesta sighed. “Okay, so far it’s good. From what I’m seeing on my side, Silas doesn’t have the detonator yet.”

Silas was the CEO of Stargazers without Borders, a company that specifically protects lesser faeries of Prythian from homelessness, discrimination, mistreatments and attacks. It was well known all across Night Court territory, even to neighboring courts like the Day Court and the Winter Court. He even appeared in the press after meeting the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, Rhysand and Feyre, who congratulated and gifted him for his thoughtfulness and desire to stop discrimination and mistreatment of lesser faeries.

However, what was unbeknownst to the citizens was his hideous racism towards lesser faeries and the corruption rotting the company. He never had any intentions of helping them. He was a fraud who stole money from them and manipulated their trusts to build a machine and enough Venenam weed to contaminate the whole population of lesser faeries of Velaris with a deadly disease promising a slow and cruel death. A prototype to an even larger one intended for the whole Night Court. The weed in question, a rare plant that only grows in the Prison Island, was purchased for this occasion. It can cause thickening of blood, narrow air capacity in the lungs and paralysis in the first 10 minutes after exposition and if not treated within thirty minutes, death follows suit.

‘He is trying to kill us all. We can’t turn to the authorities without proof. Help us. Help us expose his plan so that no one gets hurt. We’re sick of this. Our lives keep being threatened again and again. We’re sick of this.’ That was what their client told them in a lengthy email two weeks ago.

‘We’ll make sure he faces justice for his acts.’ Elain had responded after she and Gwyn did a long, extensive research on him, hacking into the company’s mainframe and Silas’s personal electronic devices. They always did some investigating beforehand to make sure the individual in question was indeed a criminal needed to be stopped.

Velaris was considered the best city to live in for lesser faeries in Prythian, but there were still assholes like Silas, who hide their bigotry under smiles and caring behavior.

“Silas is horrible, creating a lethal weapon to get rid of lesser faeries. He’s repulsive.” Elain said as she looked through every cameras of the company’s building from the comfort of the basement of their house. She usually stayed there with her soft violet and light pink pyjamas consisting of a tank top and shorts while the other three went out to do the dirty work. Fighting wasn’t necessarily her forte, but what she couldn’t do in terms of combat was made up by her knowledge of technology, computers. She had the mind of a genius. No one understood computers and network systems as well as she did. Furthermore, she was exceptionally skilled in the arts of poisons. Her passion of gardening opened a path to the meticulous art of crafting poisons ranging from weak to lethal.

The tranquilizer in Silver’s darts were made by her. It was also a great fertilizer for moon lilies.

A quick movement caught Nesta’s eye. “I think he’s getting it right now. I have to be quick.”

She aimed again at the three men in front of her. Silas wore a deep navy suit and a bright metallic gold tie almost matching his curly hair, his arched ears barely peeking through. It looked unnatural, almost plastic. She clicked her tongue in distaste. He looked ridiculous. This guy can’t dress for shit.

Just as he was about to touch the small detonator, she pulled the trigger. Three shots. The sound of their bodies crashing on the cold humid ground echoed like a murmur, easily heard by Faes. They were all instantly lying unconscious, the rain pouring onto their bodies.

She stood up and walked over them, grabbing the detonator. She gave one last look at the blond High Fae and shook her head. She said, her voice laced with disdain: “Mother, he fucking deserves it for dressing up like this. Where did he think he was? A fucking Kids Award ceremony?”

She heard Emerie cough out a laugh.

Nesta looked around. “I guess it’s over for me then. Nymph should have found the machine by now.”

“I did.” Gwyn said, swiftly jumping on the ground from the air vent with no sound. She grinned, her teal eyes promising malice. “It’ll be quick, considering we have the one issue being the detonator solved. I’m going to enjoy destroying this shit to pieces.”

Elain interrupted her. “Hold on. I’m seeing something else.”

“What?”

The sound of fingers pressing in the keyboard echoed through their earpieces. Her dark brown eyes simmered as she muttered, “Of course he did that.”

“Ivy?” Emerie said.

Elain cussed under her breath. Emerie’s eyebrows went up. Rarely did Elain use swear words. It was mostly Nesta and Gwyn who spew out swear words one after the other.

“He put another detonator on the machine itself. A timed one.”

Gwyn, on her side, was in the basement, her dark navy blue leather clothes reflecting the light coming from the machine in front of her. She stared at it, tall enough to reach the ceiling and large enough to fit the whole wall. It glowed a calm azure blue, so strangely at odds to the things it can do. Four large cylinder containers were attached to it, with seafoam green fumes trapped inside. She could tell those drugs were finalized in a vapor formula and, according to the timer on the screen, were five minutes away from being set off in the whole building.

Gwyn sighed. “Of course it had to be me. Remind me why I volunteered myself?”

“You wanted to prove a point.” Nesta said with a smirk, reminiscing the challenge she posed to Gwyn last night. She had always been so competitive.

Gwyn was mostly High Fae, but she was also a river nymph, her grandmother being one herself. Those fumes could be deadly to her, and to Emerie who was in the ballroom with other lesser faeries. She ran a hand through her lovely copper brown hair, tying it up into a ponytail, before reaching for the object attached to her hip. A dagger. Extremely sharp and double-edged, its hilt detailed of stars and waves. Gwyn was an excellent fighter and great at using guns, but knives and daggers were her strength. She had a staggering aim that could put any archer to shame and knew how to maneuver them with the mastery of an ancient warrior.

Walking in front of the machine’s access panel, she asked: “Ivy, tell me which wire to cut to deactivate the detonator.”

While Elain was doing a quick research, Gwyn carefully opened the panel, looking into it. “It should be the blue one.”

“Which blue one? There are three. The deep blue, the teal blue or the sky blue?”

“What the fuck?” Nesta muttered under her breath, getting herself warm inside the entrance porch of the building next to the company.

A long blonde haired waitress came up to her and asked if she had a reservation. She barely noticed that she went in a restaurant. “Oh, I don’t have one. I’m just waiting for my friends here because it’s raining.”

Gwyn and Elain, on their side, were still trying to figure out which wire to cut. “I have three minutes left. Elain?”

A short silence. And then, she said, “The deep blue one. It’s radiating a different vibration. Pretty sure it is the one.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I think.”

“There’s no ‘I think’. I don’t feel like vomiting blood and having my lungs emptied.” Gwyn retorted, her anxiety rising with every second.

“I’m inclined to agree with Nymph. It’s not tempting.” Emerie said, her bracelets jingling together.

Elain pressed her fingers on the keyboard again. “Yup. It’s that one. Cut it, Nymph. There’s only 1 minute left.”

Quickly, she took her dagger and cut the wire. A few seconds passed. The countdown didn’t stop.

“Shit. We’re fucked.” She cursed. “I can’t believe I’m going out like this.”

Nesta smiled at her dramatics.

“No, shut up.” Elain said. “It’s working.”

Indeed it was, another few seconds and the countdown stopped at 15 seconds. Gwyn and Emerie let out a relieved sigh.

“Great. Now, all I have to do is fill the containers with this…substance?” Gwyn said, lifting the bag of foul-smelling herbs that Elain told Emerie to bring from the mountains near Illyria.

“These herbs are natural neutralizers. It is the only effective solution against Venenam.” Elain said, Emerie agreeing with her as a security guard walked pass her.

A male walked towards her. Tall, long dark hair and piercing gray eyes staring into her brown eyes, his full lips curved into a flirtatious smile as he asked: “Hey, gorgeous.”

She scrutinized him. He looked like a Seraphim, with his soft feathery wings tucked behind his back. He must’ve settled here from the Dawn Court. He looked at her with a cocky grin, standing like those men who think they’re the shit because they're males.

She knew damn well that kind of men.

Looking away, she said indifferently. “No.”

“No?”

“That’s what I said. I’m not interested.”

He stayed silent for a moment. “Your loss. You’re ugly anyways. Men don’t want stuck up women like you.”

He turned around and walked away. Emerie couldn’t help but snort at his words while Nesta was laughing through her earpiece. “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”

“Not him calling you gorgeous and ugly in the space of two minutes. These males are so fucking idiotic. It’s hilarious.” Nesta said.

Emerie laughed, but then a movement crossed her vision. Two security guards went down to the basement, and she swore she saw a flash of guns and a steel staff. She immediately followed them, thankful of having her shorter black leather suit under her dress.

She warned Gwyn, pulling on her mask she hid in her dress. “Shit. Nymph, two guards are coming at you. They have guns and staffs. It might get ugly”

Gwyn, who successfully neutralized the poison and destroyed the machine, stood up, stretched her limbs. Putting her mask on, she reached for her daggers, twirling them around her fingers in both hands.

She grinned behind her black mask. “Finally. Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

The moon was high and radiant in the sky when a tall, solid mass landed on the long grass with a thud. He was standing on the top of a hill and the wind blew gently through his long, thick black hair that reached his neck, the ephemeral scent of rain floating tingling the man’s nose. It had rained earlier in the evening rather vigorously as he could tell by the wet on the grass. He stretched his black, bat-like wings and arms, his leather suit making small noises at the movement. The seven jewels that were attached on his person, a fiery crimson red, glowed slightly under the moonlight. He was exhausted by the flight he’d taken since they winnowed in the continent. It was too risky to winnow directly at the destination. They could have been caught by the enemy.

“Did you need to land that loudly? No wonder you lost the spy job to Shadowsinger.” A warm, almost captivating feminine voice said through the electronic device in his ear.

“I didn’t lose the job to him, Truth, I simply chose not to take it.” He said, his deep masculine voice echoing in the void. “Spying isn’t my style.”

“Yes, because you’re terrible at it.”

A low chuckle resonated following the jab, making the winged man roll his eyes. His friends never failed to make fun of him at the slightest chance.

“Send me a scan of the place, Thunder.” A deep, yet soft masculine voice said.

He tapped the red jewels on his hands, and a small holographic screen in the same, but muted and less opaque color, appeared. He scanned the perimeter, the data transmitted back to the headquarters.

A silence resonated for a short moment, then the same voice said, “Perimeter’s safe. No one else’s around.”

He heard the flapping of wings behind him and turned to stare at the second tall man with wings similar to his own who landed with a softer, quieter thud. His black hair, shorter than his, ruffled against the wind. He was slightly shorter than the first man, but still an impressive height nonetheless. His wings were tucked behind his back, leaving parts of his face illuminated by the moonlight, showing off his handsomely sharp angular features. He wore a leather garment with seven jewels similar to his own, but instead of the fiery red, his were a calmer cobalt blue. Shapeless moving darkness floated around him, like living shadows, as he put their friend down on the ground.

The woman beside him was holding his arm as she stepped out of his arms into the long, wet grass. Her long blonde hair, almost platinum under the glow of the moon, waved as the wind blew, revealing her arched ears. Neither of the two men had arched ears as they were no High Faes, but Illyrians. Her black leather clad legs rubbed together as she stood up beside the man who landed with her.

Her brown eyes gleamed with tease as she assessed the red jeweled Illyrian in front of her. “Didn’t bother tying your hair up like the usual?”

He pointedly ignored her. “Why were you late?”

“Smartass over here-” The winged man beside her said half-heartily as the woman protested, “-dropped her earring in the middle of her monologue while we were flying so I had to land to get it back.”

“I wasn’t- I was telling you to be careful this time because the last mission, you injured yourself. You had to stay in bed for a week.”

“Exactly. Monologue.”

The blonde Fae sighed, exasperated. “How about the next time you’re trying to get yourself killed, do me a favor and let me do the killing, Shadowsinger?”

“I was fine. It was just a little scratch.” He exclaimed.

“Just a little scratch? You’re delusional, Az-”

“Truth,” the voice in the earpiece interrupted, “You’re in the middle of mission.”

Which meant they couldn’t use their real names here, in case the enemy could hear and track them and those they care about down.

“Spell-cleaver’s right. We need to be more careful about saying our names deliberately.” Shadowsinger said, earning a deadly glare from Truth.

Thunder chuckled at their interaction despite the worry growing in his heart. He hoped this mission will go smoother than the last one.

“Let’s get in. We need to find that object before they get it.” He said, turning towards the abandoned house standing on top of the hill.

It was an old one, going back to 300 hundred years at least, judging by its architecture. The wood was chipping, deep lines on the door, and dirt and vines covered the once bright light brown exterior wall. According to Spell-cleaver, it used to belong to an old lord from the mountains and was used as a vacation house, but now it was potentially the hiding place of a dangerous object their enemy desperately wanted.

They entered the house, dust and spider webs coating the chipping painted white walls. The brown wood on the doors and steps almost looked like they were decaying. Leaves and vines managed to grow inside, intertwined with the railings. A faint sound of mice could be heard through the walls and a bizarre and putrid scent floated around, causing Truth and Thunder to sneeze. The sound bounced off in the silent as the dead atmosphere.

“Shut up. You might as well wake up the neighbor ten miles away.” Shadowsinger shushed.

“Oh, I just sneezed. Get over yourself.”

“Not you, Truth. I’m talking about him. The guy’s sneeze is a whole trumpet.”

Spell-cleaver snorted through the earpiece and the blonde Fae chuckled quietly. Thunder halted his step, turning to glare at the other Illyrian. “I don’t have a trumpet’s sneeze. I have a normal sneeze.”

“Now that’s being delusional.” Spell-cleaver said, causing the other two to laugh as quietly as they could.

Thunder walked into the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of about wanting to throw them off the cliff and shaking his head, while Shadowsinger walked to the basement and Truth took the stairs to the bedrooms. They roughly knew what to look for. Their bosses informed them that it was a small object used for magical rituals, and it was rumored to be located in that specific house. A small, glowing spherical ball. It supposedly looked quite innocent, similar to a pixie’s tiny glowing globes, but it was a far more dangerous object. It was theoretically capable of doing a lot of good or a lot of evil, and if it were to ever fall into the hands of an individual with a rotting heart and evil intentions, it would lead to catastrophic consequences to the world.

Spell-cleaver, who was in the comfort of their headquarters, worked head on and belly full to locate that object, a piece of veggies filled pastry in his left hand while his right hand typed on the keyboard. He had his long fiery ginger-red hair in a low ponytail as he watched through the three big monitors, courtesy of their bosses, his friends’ body cameras for unusual heat waves through infrared imaging. He discovered during his research that the object in question released a different heat wave than others that could be found in that house. His eyes, one of russet and one of gold metal, looked over all three cameras, searching for any sign of weird heat wave.

“There’s nothing in the kitchen, Thunder. Try the living room.” He told the Illyrian in red after a few minutes of silence, dusting off small crumbles off his brown and gold ornate blazer.

Thunder left the kitchen for the living room. Everything looked... like a tornado passed through the room. The table was turned over, pillows were on the floor, vase was knocked off, the once fresh and blooming flowers lying next to it and personal belongings lied here and there. He saw on his right a painted frame of a family. A man and his wife with his two kids wearing ancient clothes. It stuck out like a sore thumb among the modern furniture and objects, like a figure of the past time traveled into the future. They looked like some type of nymph. Strangely and disturbingly enough, only the wife’s face was visible, unscathed. The rest had their faces burned as if someone held an open flame on the picture and purposefully burned it. He swallowed difficultly, turning away from the uncanny painting.

He tried to ignore the weird, chilling feeling running down his spine. Something felt strangely cold, anormal and bizarre. He couldn’t exactly tell what it was or understand why he felt like that. All he knew is that he wanted to leave immediately. Desperately.

“Something’s odd.” He said to the earpiece before resuming to the task at hand.

Truth was in a bedroom upstairs, one that clearly looked like a little boy’s. Her body cam was recording everything for Spell-cleaver. She looked through the drawers, searching for that object, before coming across a framed painting of a little forest nymph girl sitting on modern and clean white nightstand. The girl’s face was burned and at the bottom sat a small old parchemin paper with an inscription.

She quickly took the paper and read the words in a whisper.

In death reigns no stillness, only torment remains.

She unfolded the paper, curiosity prickling her skin, only to find another painted picture, this time of a woman with uncanny blue and gold eyes, quite unusual for forest nymphs. Unburned.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She heard Spell-cleaver’s voice ask.

Truth scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not sure.”

She tucked the piece of paper in her pocket and examined the room closely. The bed was left unmade, furniture were still there and personal objects were still lying around. The edge of the carpet was turned over, as if someone stumbled on their way out. There was even a small stuffed animal toy on the ground. She noticed the same kind of havoc in the other rooms she went to earlier.

Whatever happened in that house made the old inhabitants leave in hurry.

“Guys, don’t you notice something strange? Everything is still here. All the furniture, the personal belongings, everything.” She said.

“Yeah, you’re in a house. Congratulations for finding that out.” Spell-cleaver joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up, idiot. Listen. The old inhabitants’ personal stuff are still here. Their beds’ are unmade. Their carpets are turned over. Objects are knocked over on the floor or their furniture. Something happened in this house that made its last inhabitants run away.”

“You’re right. The living room was a mess. And there was this creepy medieval painting.” Thunder said, leaving the living room after nothing was detected by the infrared camera.

“Here as well. I found paintings with burned faces.”

“I had a doubt it was going to be like this. I’ll try to research again, see if I can find more about this.” Spell-cleaver said. He turned to another keyboard and opened a new page on the second monitor, already typing.

“I have this weird feeling that won’t go away. It feels creepy.” Thunder muttered, shaking his head.

Shadowsinger, who was at the basement, stared at one closet in particular. He was barely listening to the conversation, seeming entranced by the ancient closet. Tall and wide enough for him to fit inside, the light brown wood looked burnt and the handle locked by old, oxidized chains. The moving shadows around him moved frantically around him, skittering back from the ominous furniture, seeming to whisper something to him. He felt a shiver running down his spine and the hairs on his arms raise. His head was pounding as he felt strange things, yet he stayed unflinching to the pain. He almost didn’t hear Thunder calling him, his voice getting closer, until his hand touched his shoulder.

“We’ve been calling you this whole time- Why are you looking at me like that?”

He looked back at Thunder, the same hazel eyes he has staring with a faint hint of concern, then at Truth by his side, and felt reality sink back in.

He blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Did you find anything?”

“You looked like you saw a ghost.” Truth said, concerned.

He turned back at the closet and said, “I think this house might be inhabited.”

“We’re alone here, what are you- Oh.” The long haired Illyrian realized, his eyes going wide.

“A little scared, tough guy?” The blonde woman smirked, crossing her arms on her chest.

He scoffed in return.

“Shut up.” He added after seeing her silently laughing.

“I didn’t say anything.” Her eyes were wide, but her tone suggested tease.

They heard a sigh in their earpiece. “Nothing suggests that it is haunted. Nor anything about why the family left. I only have a picture. I’ll send it to your phones.”

Their phones vibrated soon after, and upon seeing it, Thunder exclaimed, “This isn’t the same family that I saw in the painting.”

The picture showed a family of four, all High Fae. It seemed to have been taken about a hundred years before now.

“You’re right. The woman and the little girl I saw were forest nymphs, not High Fae.”

“Maybe these painting were already in the house before these people lived here.” Shadowsinger said, interrupting them.

“I had a slight doubt it might’ve been haunted upon seeing it before the mission, so I told Truth and Thunder to stay with you during this mission just in case. We all know how you get when spirits are nearby.” Spell-cleaver said as he looked through Thunder’s body cam, who went in one of the two rooms in the basement.

“I guess that’s a negative of being a shadowsinger.” Truth said, grabbing her friend’s arm and dragging him away from the ominous closet.

They walked into the only other room, looking through drawers and closets for any signs of the object. It seemed to be a laundry room judging by the large washtub and wooden board. It was the norm back then since washing machines were not yet invented.

Upon pushing a wooden cube aside to open a closet, Truth noticed a small folded paper. It had a strange, vaguely familiar seal. She quickly took it in her pocket before opening the closet.

During their search, she asked him, her voice quiet and tentative, “What did you feel when you were by that closet?”

Shadowsinger halted, thinking back at that moment. “There was... pain. And rage. I could almost hear it. I was-”

“Oh, hell no. Ask him when we’re out of here.” Thunder said from the other room. “This place is already creepy enough.”

“Aw, the big bad tough Illyrian is scared.”

“At least I can admit that. Don’t think I didn’t notice you hiding behind me when we found him by that closet acting possessed.”

Shadowsinger opened his mouth to protest, but Spell-cleaver’s voice interrupted them once again. “Wait, get closer to the right wall. I’m noticing some hot waves.”

He did as told, and a silence reigned in the room for a few minutes. Thunder walked into the laundry room, muttering that he didn’t find anything.

Suddenly, the red head’s voice was heard again, but this time he sounded alarmed, almost scared. “Get out of here. Right now.”

They all took a step back.

“There’s a bomb. It is one minute away from exploding. Fucking run!”

So they did.

They ran as quickly as they could, bumping into each other in the process. The two Illyrians’ wings could barely pass by as they ran upstairs. Running toward the door, a faint scent of smoke trailed after them.

Truth got out first, followed by Thunder shortly after.

Just as Shadowsinger stepped into the threshold, a sound echoed.

And the flames followed suit.

“Argh!” A pained sound came out of the Illyrian’s mouth as he jumped out of the house from the impact, landing on the floor roughly.

“Azriel!” Truth yelled, running towards him followed by Thunder. “Cassian, help me get him up.”

Thunder grabbed him by the upper arm, hoisting him up. The shadowsinger hissed in pain, shadows surrounding as if protecting him. Blood tainted his hand as he touched his shoulder.

“You’re injured again.” Truth said.

“The fire burned me. It’s not as bad as it seems. The fall was more painful.” He said, his gaze turning serious. “I’ll be fine, Mor.”

Flames took over the house with a loud, guttural noise as if coming out from the depths of the earth. They turned their heads at the house on fire in front of them. As the flames brightly lighted up the night, a weird phenomenon happened. They started taking shape, forming a faceless head with horns and fangs and hollow eyes. A demon’s head.

It moved towards them.

They walked backwards frantically as the shaped fire moved closer and closer, but to no avail. It was much faster than them. It swiftly moved and Cassian prepared to shield them from it, his hand on his red jewel on his chest ready.

Until it hit a wall.

A wall of flames.

The tall flames, strange and cold silvery flames, lined up in front of them, as if protecting them from the head of fire. It successfully stopped it from getting anywhere near them. And as if that wasn’t enough, droplets of crystalized water rose from the wet grass, taking the shape of a sphere that enveloped the fiery demon head and kept it trapped until it became a ball of smoke.

The nightmare now over, the three of them stood in silence for a minute, trying to process what just happened.

“Are you guys okay? What the hell was that?” Spell-cleaver asked, frustrated. His leg repeatedly bounced anxiously. He was the one behind the computer, the brains that understood computers and hacking with a genius never seen before. He joined them sometimes when long-distance technology wasn’t possible as he was a skilled fighter as well, but he knew he was helping the team the most by using his computer skills. However tonight, he wished he could have been out there physically instead of being behind a screen and having to witness them in danger without being able to help.

“I don’t know.” Cassian said. “And we were saved. Saved by- Lucien, did I just see correctly or were we just saved by silver fire and drops of water?”

“No, your eyes are right.” He answered. “Also, no name using.”

“Who cares? No one’s here anyways.”

“Look.” Azriel said, his head turned to the right.

They all turned their heads towards where he was looking at, with Lucien looking through the cameras. They could see faint shapes far away, four to be precise. They could tell by their forms that they were individuals, but not more than that. They weren’t able to see more clearly because they immediately disappeared. Winnowed.

“The universe loves proving me wrong.” Cassian said, rolling his eyes.

“Who are they?” Mor said to herself. “Do you think they heard us?”

Azriel shook his head. “I don’t think so. They were too far away even for their Fae ears to catch any sounds.”

“You need to come back. We need to report this to the bosses. The mission was a dead end. It would seem like the object wasn’t there to begin with. We were given false reports.” Lucien said.

“We’ll take care of that detail when we get home.” Mor seethed.

“We need to rest. Az is injured.” Cassian retorted.

“It’s taken care of. The bosses will arrive soon. Just leave the hill. They will come get you home. There are other objects we can find before the enemy beside that one.”

They proceeded to walk down the hill in silence, leaving the burning house behind. They expected the next meeting with their bosses to be more complicated now that they were given false reports. It’s not that they were bad, they just find it annoying that they will have to double-check all the reports that were given to them. Paper work was always such a hustle, and they were already frustrated enough with the mission being a dead end. They knew they would need to find other ways to find where these objects were and retrieve them before their enemy get them first.

But that was a problem for another day.

Azriel’s back tingled as he was walking down, and he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, getting one last look at the burning house. His shadows were enveloped around his neck and arms as a wooden bar fell from the house in a loud thud. He still felt the shivers, still felt in trance almost, and he swore he heard a faint feminine voice echoing from the ancient house. Something shifted inside him. Something ominous and dark. He couldn’t shake the feeling, didn’t know what or why he felt this dread.

Only that he knew it was just the beginning, somehow.

And he abhorred it.

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years ago

Text

I wouldn't want to spend a minute lovin' anybody else.

Warnings: this fic has some sad moments and mentions of the blip. also kind of AU because I'm completely ignoring Natasha's canon end.

Word count: 4,2k (i got very carried away with this fic)

Summary: · Meeting the right person at the wrong time can be life changing when it doesn’t work out the way we desire. But if it's meant to be it will always happen, right?

A/N: This is my fic for the "Women of Marvel xReader Exchange" created by @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest . It was created for @im-holding-ontoyou and I hope you like it! gif by @natasharomanovgifs 🌼 ALSO; i haven't watched Black Widow yet so I'm sorry if something in this fic doesn't fit the new info we got about natasha.

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

New York, 2015.

When you received the call from one of your bosses that you had a new case you would have never imagined how big that case would turn out to be.

You had been working for one of the most important law firms in New York for a year now, and you were getting kind of used to reading cases that would be narrated in the papers for months. Rich and entitled men, big divorces were they fight over who gets the yacht, one or two murder cases... if it revolved around the powerful people of New York city, your firm would get it.

When you got to the debriefing and were told that Tony Stark, one of the firm's most important clients, asked your team for assistance in the creation of some legislation with the newly created “Advanced Threat Containment Unit” you were more than surprised.

The events that the Avengers had caused (or saved us from, there were different opinions going around) in the small country of Sokovia were known all around the and it was only time before the most powerful officials asked for the regulation of ‘superhero activity’.

You weren’t important enough to actually attend the meetings that took place with the government, seeing as you had only passed your bar exam a little over a year prior, but you were deemed cheerful and nice enough to act as a nexus between the firm and the client.

For months you spent your days talking to Tony Stark and other members of The Avengers trying to explain what was being talked about. The first few meetings were a disaster, seeing as the mood was somber for the lives lost and nobody really understood your legal jargon. But slowly you started to transform your language and really tried to make the meetings as easy as possible for everyone present.

But who were you kidding, they really didn’t care about the meetings or the silly attorney being sent to explain something that was way above their paycheck. Well, at least Stark was gracious enough to set a coffee station with some pastries for the meeting. You were pouring the hot liquid into your to-go cup when your hand jerked and the hot liquid splashed your hand.

You could feel the sting of the burn but avoided further sudden movements trying not to make it worse. Before you could reach for a napkin to clean up the mess you made, a more dexterous and manicured hand reached for them and exchanged the hot cup in your hand for the bunch of papers.

“Careful, Stark always serves boiling coffee. I think it’s to mask that it’s not the best quality.”

You lifted your gaze from your hand and found a pair of deep green eyes gazing back. You would have thought that spending numerous meetings in the company of superheroes would make you less susceptible to their powerful auras, but being this close to Natasha Romanoff made your heart beat a bit faster.

“Yeah, I found out the hard way.” You joked, lifting your hand a bit. “You would guess one of the richest people in the world would actually serve good coffee...”

Seeing her crack a smile made you feel less tense. Sometimes you forget they are still normal people. Normal people who could kill you with their bare hands and had superhuman powers. She placed your cup on the food table, apparently not bothered by how hot it must have been, and pushed her hand in your direction.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff.” You wrapped your hand around hers and shook it, biting your tongue trying not to tell her of course you knew her name. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself in earlier meetings, we were all trying to come to terms with what had happened.”

“No worries, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for all of you.” You nodded and tried to show her sympathy, trying to avoid thinking about all the lives affected by the fight. “Oh sorry, I’m-”

Natasha quickly cut you off, speaking your name before you could even say it. You could feel your cheeks get warmer at the idea that they actually knew who you were, and she probably could sense your mood change because she quickly explained.

“I know who you are, you send us at least two emails a week about these meetings and FRIDAY always announces you before you arrive.”

“Who announces me?” You asked curiously at the mention of a name you recognized.

“FRIDAY. It’s the name of Stark’s AI technology. It works all around the tower and it’s there to make life easier for everyone.” She explained pointing around at the speakers strategically placed around the room.

“Oh, I get emails from Friday sometimes. Most of them are asking me to translate or explain something about the debriefing because Mr.Stark is not interested in legal terms.” Both you and Natasha laughed at the thought.

But she quickly recomposed and tried to look serious again when she heard her teammates coming in to get ready for the meeting.

“I wanted to ask you about that. Do you think we could schedule a meeting so that you could explain some things about the legislation of the A.T.C.U.?” She spoke lower than she had when the two of you were alone and you wondered why she didn’t want her colleagues to know about the meeting.

“Ye-Yeah, of course I can.” You were confused but thought it would be in your best interest, and the firm’s, to say yes to the proposal. And a meeting with a very attractive and definitely interesting woman was not something that happened constantly for you.

“Great, thank you.” She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand that you hadn’t even realized was still wrapped around hers from the introduction. “I can promise you better coffee.”

You could only hum in response, still trying to piece together what she might want from the meeting. But your thoughts were quickly cut off when Stark entered the room and you moved to start the reunion.

During the entire meeting you could feel the dull pain in your hand from the scorching coffee and the feeling of a pair of green eyes watching your every move.

Vienna, 2016.

The situation had only gone downhill from the Battle of Sokovia. The public’s opinion on the Avengers was at an all-time-low and that made terrorist groups bold. They knew that if they struck and caused enough chaos, the blame would fall on the good guys that tried to stop them.

The only thing that seemed to be a stable thing in your life was Natasha. Well, as stable as dating a superhero might be. She was busy a lot, but you understood the importance of her job and you were quite busy too gaining importance within the law firm.

And even if sometimes terrorists and criminals got in the way you still found a moment to spend together, wrapped around each other without having to think about how messed up life was.

You thought Lagos was the blow that would make everything tumble, the Sokovia accords were unveiled and it broke the Avengers, and your girlfriend. You could feel how torn she was at her decision of some of her friends to oppose the signing and go on the run, and her own decision to subordinate to the United Nations mandate. But you realized how small that had been when king T’Chaka was killed at the UN.

You had been at the UN as part of the USA legal team that participated in the writing and monitoring of the accords. Your participation in the negotiations almost broke your relationship but you were able to recover once you explained your position and Natasha actually came to an understanding of it.

Natasha was also in Vienna when everything went down, you hadn’t managed to properly see her because she was one of the signers and they sat at the assembly while other guests sat at the amphitheater watching the retransmission.

You hadn’t been able to properly see her all day, seeing as she took a detour before flying to Austria. You were only able to communicate through texts where you tried to make the situation more comfortable for her and she promised a peaceful european trip to celebrate the signing.

When the bomb went off and all hell broke loose the first thing you tried to do was look for her, she was at the epicenter of the explosion and you just wanted to see if she was okay. You saw her from afar when you were being pushed to the outside of the building while they swiped the perimeter.

She sat with T’Challa before he jumped from the bench and stomped away. Natasha looked around and your gazes crossed, immediately melting away some of the worry. You tried to push your way through the crowd to get to her, but police and security didn’t budge.

You never took your eyes off of her, scared that if you did she would disappear. But she did move her gaze to her phone and the look that crossed her face when she heard the voice at the other side told you it was a very important call.

Once the call was over and she looked at you again you knew that would probably be the last time you would see her in some time. You hadn’t known Natasha as long as some of her colleagues had, but you could proudly say you could understand what she wanted to say with just a look. And the look on her face in that moment read close to a goodbye.

New York, 2018.

It had been two years since the fall of Helmut Zemo and part of the Avengers was still on the run. And it maybe wouldn’t have had that big of an impact on you if it wasn’t because Natasha had also been on the run for that long.

You had heard about what happened at the Leipzig airport and how Natasha had changed alliances to join Captain America’s fight. You had been heartbroken at the news knowing that any resemblance of normality that you still hope for was destroyed.

You had spent months wondering what had made her change her mind. Had she thought about your conversations about the accords? Had she even remembered you, waiting for her back in New York, when she decided to go on the run?

A part of you tried to convince you of how selfish thinking about that was, why would she think about you when the future of her team and friends was at stake? But also you were her girlfriend, she should have thought about the implications that might have had for you.

In those years you had mourned your relationship and after the grieving period you tried to rebuild your life. New friends, a new position and new chances to take. And it went okay...at least until someone opened their mouth to talk about superheroes or The Avengers. Years down the line and it was still on people’s minds.

On special occasions you would receive anonymous gifts at your office or your apartment. The first birthday after the war you sobbed for fifteen minutes when you saw the bunch of flowers. There was no name or indicative of who might have sent them, that was until you looked better at the card and saw the small red hourglass painted in the corner.

The gifts continued. Every case you won, promotion, birthday or holiday a bunch of flowers would be delivered to you with the same note.

In a way it gave you a sense of peace knowing she was okay and still thought of you. But the more you thought about it the angrier you got at how she had left you.

You didn’t expect a message from your boss to run to the Avengers compound and assess some situation between Coronel Rhodes and Thaddeus Ross. Although the team had crumbled, your company was still hired to legally represent the remaining members and moderate situations that might arise with the government.

You entered the compound expecting another bureaucratic complaint about their activity but you found a trickier situation. The meeting room was filled with people you thought you would never see again.

Captain Rogers was sitting on one of the chairs sporting a new look that made you almost not recognize him and a tense demeanor. Next to him was Sam Wilson, looking around at the smallest of movements and trying to assess the situation. Wanda Maximoff was standing on the furthest corner of the room playing with her rings, meanwhile Vision was apparently being checked out for a wound. What kind of wounds a synthezoid could get was beyond your understanding.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, I might have angered Secretary Ross during a meeting.” Rhodey came up to you with a nervous smile.

You had gotten closer to him thanks to your job seeing as he was the one doing the dirty superhero work.

“Yeah, I got that much from the text. Nothing new then.” You tried to joke to diffuse the tension in the room. “It would have been nice to know you had guests though.”

“We are not guests. Last time I checked this was our home too.”

That voice made your blood freeze. You should have expected her there, all her friends had returned and the chance of her being back too was almost 100%. But hearing her voice again after two years was not something you expected.

You bit your tongue before you could talk about how it’s not a home if you abandon it, but decided against it. This was a fight between them, not Natasha and you.

“I need you to work with the government to avoid this situation becoming a disaster.” Rhodey explained and you scoffed.

“Rhodey, I’m a lawyer not a politician. I have as much power in this as you might have.” You tried to lay your point across but it was difficult with all eyes on the interaction. “Hell, I have even less power than you do.”

“Then I need you to distract them enough to get them off our shoulders.” He pressed. “Something big is coming and we need all the strength we can get.”

You thought about it for a moment. If it was true that something big was coming, the Avengers were the best option to fight it.

“I’m in.” You scoffed at his smile and sat down in one of the chairs of the meeting room. “I’m not ready for the world to end yet.”

The meeting went on for a while. You called bosses, government officials and everyone that would listen to your distractions. You sent emails that would flood their inboxes for days so that they couldn’t read any news that might reach them about what the superheroes had in mind.

It was late at night when a cup of steaming liquid was placed next to you. You looked at it and saw that it was some kind of herbal tea, probably made to relax the drinker. You followed the hand that was still holding the mug until you reached Natasha’s face.

You had done your best to ignore her looming presence in the room but now there was no distraction. Looking at her you could see tiredness in her face. She was platinum blonde now, a look that weirdly suited her, but her face still looked as welcoming to you as it always did.

You tried to stop the flashbacks to the last time you saw it in person in Vienna, but they kept replaying in your head until her voice broke you out of the loop.

“I thought you might need it, I remember how nervous calls used to make you.”

She was smiling but you could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I got over it since I got my promotion. Now I spend a long portion of my day making calls.”

She hummed and sat down next two you, but leaving a chair in between you as a safe space.

“I read about it in an article, I sent you flowers to celebrate.”

“I got them. And the Christmas ones. On my birthday too.” You enumerated the times you had gotten the plants in the past two years. “You must have spent an awful amount of money buying me so many flowers.”

“You deserved it, you still do.” She shrugged and that’s when you noticed she had her own mug of warm tea in her other hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate with you.”

You laughed into your mug sarcastically. Out of everything you expected her to say this wasn’t one of them.

“Did you really? Because you didn’t seem to consider me much when you went on the run for two years.”

Natasha paled when she heard your tone. She probably wasn’t used to situations like these but you weren’t going to let her go without an apology at least.

“I was trying to do the best for-”

“-for the world. I get it, Natasha, I do.” You tried to contain your emotions but it was getting harder with every word. “Relationships are supposed to be teamwork. I know you are always too busy playing heroes and I never judged you for that, I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me before you disappeared.”

She was silent and knowing Natasha it’s because she was probably overwhelmed with the display of feelings. But she needed to hear how bad you had felt.

After minutes of waiting for an answer from her and getting nothing but sighs you shook your head and looked back at the computer screen.

“I guess it was a case of the right person, wrong time.” You shrugged trying to find distraction in the flurry of letters in your email inbox. “Or at least it was for me.”

She got up from her seat without a word and you grew exasperated. Why had she even approached you if then she wasn’t willing to have an adult, two sided conversation? She was almost at the door when you heard her voice again.

“Please never doubt how much I love you. I made some bad choices but dating you was not one of them.”

New York, 2024.

Time apparently flies by when you are erased from the face of the earth. One day you are in your office working late and the next you appear five years in the future with no recollection of what might have happened.

You were taken by authorities to impromptu camps and one by one examined to check your identities. The entire thing seemed to be something out of one of the dystopian novels you used to read as a teenager.

When it was your turn you gave them all the information you had on what had happened. You had given them your name and personal information and apparently had been a very searched person because the computer started beeping as soon as your name was introduced in the database.

You were moved to a secluded part of the camp and kept in an isolated room for god knows how long. Your stomach was in knots during the entire situation and you could feel the cold sweat on you. That mixed with the metallic taste on your tongue you knew this time your anxiety was justified. You were almost dizzy because of how hard you were thinking about the entire situation and trying to make sense of it.

When you heard the door of the room open you jumped up, discarding on the floor a makeshift blanket that had been placed on your shoulders when you got there. Your legs almost gave out at the movement and your heart felt like it was going to burst out.

The door opened enough for you to see who had been searching for you. Natasha stepped through the door still dressed in her tactic gear and with tiredness written all over her face. But that feeling seemed to almost disappear when she finally saw you.

With quick movements she stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around you tightly. For some reason that action was the trigger that you needed to let all your emotions consume you.

You started sobbing uncontrollably at the unknown. You didn’t understand what happened or how you are here, but feeling her embrace helped you feel safe in a way. It had been years since you last hugged her but it still felt as good as back in 2015.

You could hear Natasha’s soothing shushes in between your sobs and you moved to hold her tighter.

“You are here. I can’t believe I found you again.” She spoke softly and you didn’t know if she was speaking to you or herself. “It’s okay darling. I’m here and I’m not letting you go again. I promise.”

And with that promise a ray of hope made way between all the fear you felt.

Missouri, 2025.

Soft music could be heard all around the ground floor of the house. The soft beat was upbeat enough to get the morning started but not enough to be overwhelming if you had just woken up. You were sitting on the kitchen island looking at the news on your phone and having breakfast.

Mornings were usually very calm around the homestead and you couldn’ be more thankful for that. It allowed you to silently prepare your breakfast and coffee and get a headstart on Natasha’s breakfast too.

Since she had retired, Natasha had discovered a newfound love for sleeping in and you didn’t dare to take that away from her. She deserved it from all the work she had done in her life.

You, meanwhile, tried to get up early to scroll through the cases that you got in your new and smaller job and schedule meetings or emails.

It was a Saturday so work wasn’t a thing and you could actually enjoy your toast and coffee in peace. Or at least until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle and pulled you back against Natasha.

“Good morning baby, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You could feel her smile when she kissed your cheek from behind. “You weren’t there when I woke up though.”

You shrugged before moving to get a bite out of your toast. Natasha tried to do the same but you quickly moved it away from her with a smile. She tried again and you moved as fast as your reflexes allowed you.

“C’mon baby, give me a bite” “No, it’s my toast. You can make your own.” “But it tastes better when you make it.” “No it doesn’t, don’t be lazy.”

The playful fight continued for a few moments until she got close enough to get a small bit but you moved it again.

“Don’t make me bite you, darling.”

You chuckled at her threat and plopped the remaining toast on the plate in front of you. Breakfast didn’t matter much anymore. You threw yourself into her arms and pressed your lips against hers. It wasn’t a slow and sensual kiss, it was closer to how small kids smooch their parents. But you knew it would convey your love more deeply.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Nat.” You spoke against her lips and squaked when you felt her playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Is now a good time?”

That question had become recurring in your household, a nod to the phrase you said when you found eachother again after being separated the first time.

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect time.”

And you couldn’t. The rest of your life spent in a homestead with your girlfriend and whatever life might bring? It sounded absolutely delightful.

Taglist: @tagehaya @flyforeverfree @rooskaya-yelena @evalynanne @insanitybyanothername @princessayveke @yelenabelovasgf @kyli314

#natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel x reader

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

Friends in High Places

Summary: When Spencer comes home with files to a case that has his team stumped, he's surprised when you- his neighbor for a couple years now- is the person who gives them a new lead to follow. That and that you're ex-SHIELD.

Words: 8K Warnings: This is what I get for starting a rewatch of Criminal Minds and then watching Marvel movies all in one day. Fml. I've never written for Criminal Minds, so please excuse the mediocre-ness of their characterization. I have no idea what I'm doing; I just knew I wanted a crossover between these two fandoms. Also timeline? What are those? All you gotta know is that this is an AU where Bucky's joined the team and Steve DIDN'T ruin the life Peggy Carter would have had. As for the CM side, this is sometime after Hotch has left and Emily took over. Idk.

Having the night off and wanting nothing more than to just be lazy, you're sitting on your couch in your most comfiest clothes and mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr as your TV plays some program on Animal Planet. You're not even paying attention to the program, but the low sound is perfect for background noise.

You're queuing up some art posts that catch your attention, as well as some gif sets of the TV shows you've become a constant viewer of in the past few years, when there's a knock at your door. But not just any knock. It's a specific knock that you and your neighbor came up with after you got to know each other and became fast friends, and it was to let the other know they were home and wanted company. You mostly worked nights and his work schedule was always all over the place, so it's surprising you're both home at the same time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot him a quick text that you'll be over in five.

Spencer Reid is literally the man of every woman's dream, even if they didn't know it. He's cute and adorable and sometimes dangerously hot all rolled into one, and the best thing about it all is that he doesn't even know it. You had met him on one of your first few days in the apartment complex, but unfortunately it was during one of your slight panic attacks when a thunderstorm had caught you off guard while you were sitting in your car and you didn't have an umbrella.

He had seen and heard you freaking out as he was passing by, and knocked on the passenger window. You had collected yourself just long enough to roll the window down a few inches when he asked if you were okay, then proceeded to answer his own question by stating you obviously weren't. When he realized you lived in the same complex and asked if he could climb inside your car and out of the storm, you had stared at him in confusion until he realized that might have been a bit weird since you were strangers. He stammered his way through his explanation of being an FBI agent and after showing you his badge you had let him in.

You didn't have to tell him what was making you panic and he proceeded to keep your mind occupied. He asked about you and where you had moved in from, and spewed random facts about anything to temporarily make you forget about the storm raging outside. But the torrential rain wasn't letting up and the lightning was only getting closer and closer. He made you realize you had to make a run for it and even offered up his umbrella for you. You had thanked him with tears in your eyes and made a run for it on the count of three when you were settled just enough.

Inside the lobby of your apartment building, you had stood there trembling while Spencer nervously gripped onto the strap of his messenger bag as he stood across from you. When you were shaking the water off his umbrella, you hesitantly told him your reasoning for your freak-out. It wasn't necessarily the thunderstorm, but rather the torrential rain that wasn't letting up. A few years back you had a drowning incident and too much water on your face tended to bring back those memories. He said he understood and then with a sympathy tinged smile he offered to walk you to your apartment. It was a pleasant surprise to learn you had only lived two doors down from him.

Weeks turned into months and months into a couple of years, and you and Spencer were nearly inseparable when you both had the same day/night off.

So after quickly fixing your already messy hair so you don't look like a complete slob, and pulling on a loose hoodie, you grab your phone from the sofa and then head on out. Your socked feet keep your footsteps quiet as you head down to Spencer's door where you knock three times on it before opening it up and stepping inside.

But before you can greet him with a cheesy welcome, he's already calling out, "Hope you haven't had dinner. I picked up some burgers on the way home."

On cue, your stomach grumbles. "God bless you, you beautiful, beautiful man!" You hear him laugh from a room that's not where his kitchen is, so you make a beeline for the kitchen instead of accidentally walking in on him changing. There are two paper bags on the table and you quickly grab plates from his cabinet to separate the food on. Spencer enters the kitchen in a shirt and some gray joggers, and you greet him with a beaming smile. "You're home and in one piece! Yay!" He laughs and you quickly lean in to peck his cheek, not saying a word when you catch sight of his pink tinged cheeks. "You have any beer?"

"Yes. Grab two, please."

"Got it." You hear one of his kitchen chairs creak as you open his refrigerator to grab two beers, you then searching a nearby drawer for the bottle opener. Once you find it, you walk back over to the table and open each beer before handing one over to him.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." Taking a seat, you set your beer down before unwrapping your burger and dumping your fries out onto the plate. "So what's up, doc? You're home surprisingly early."

"We've hit a wall on our latest case," he says, keeping it vague. "There was nothing for us to do while Garcia did her thing, so Emily sent us home for a bit."

"Nice." You take a bite of your burger and your eyes widen when Spencer's eyebrows raise in surprise. When you realize how your words sounded, you're quick to backtrack. "Wait! It's not nice that you hit a wall, but nice that you got sent home! I got free food out of it. That's why it's nice. Not because, you know, you haven't found the-"

"Y/N, you're rambling," Spencer says, lips twitching. "I understood what you meant."

You sigh, shoulders dropping, and grab half a fry to toss at him. "Eat your food, Reid. It's getting cold."

It surprisingly doesn't take long for the two of you to eat your dinner, you both being hungrier than you first thought. After you're done, Spencer turns down a second beer but tells you to help yourself. You do. And on the way into his living room, you bump into one of his chairs and knock his bag over. You gasp and set your beer down on the coffee table, falling to your knees to scoop up his files that had spilled out.

Chuckling, Spencer crouches next to you as you profusely apologize.

"It's okay. It was an accident." A few pictures had slid out of their files and normally you'd just shove them back in because his work wasn't any of your business, but the face staring back up at you makes you pause. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little heavy on the eyeliner, and a lip piercing. You know her. "Y/N?" You gulp and flip to another picture- brown hair, brown eyes, mole above the right eyebrow. You know her too. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

With trembling hands, you flip back to the first picture and show it to him. "Is Lilian dead?"

Spencer's eyes widen. "You knew her?"

Knew. Past tense. She is dead. Showing him the second picture, you nod sadly. "Kyndall too."

He seems to stop breathing then and from one moment to the next he's opening files and pulling out picture after picture. As you stare at each of them, you grimace and swallow down the bile that's threatening to climb its way up your throat. "Y/N, do you know any of the others?"

Shakily exhaling, you point at each picture. "Desiree, Celeste, Maria. I don't know this one, but I think her last name was Valdez? And then the male is Tim."

Spencer falls on his butt, staring at you in surprise. "That's right. We know their names and their current line of work, but that's about it. Their files only seem to go back a few years. Everything between the end of their high school career and current line of work seems to be scrubbed clean. Do you- do you know of any connection between these people? Any little thing you know can possibly be a big help to my team."

Your gaze darts up to him and your heart sinks. You've managed to keep your past mostly hidden, but now it seems the time has come to tell him what you did before. "They, uh, they're all ex-agents of SHIELD. The real SHIELD, not HYDRA."

"What?"

"If I remember correctly, they were computer analysts or paper pushers. They had gun training as one would think an agent would have, but they were agents who didn't really have to train in hand-to-hand since they never made it out into the field."

"You're positive? How do you know this?"

You gulp. "Because I'm ex-SHIELD too."

Spencer blinks at you, but then in the next moment he's up on his feet and reaching for his phone. He places a quick phone call, stepping into another room and leaving you alone. Your stomach sinks and you have a feeling that this confession might have just put a wedge in your friendship. After all, though ex-agents were being picked up by other different branches of the government, you weren't sure just how exactly trustworthy all ex-agents were being treated.

Spencer reappears, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. "Do you mind coming with me back to work? My co-workers could really pick your brain about this."

You blink at him. "W-What? You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" He chuckles. "Why would I be mad? I mean I wish I had known what you did so I didn't have to worry about you being alone when I left for a case, but I can see why you would keep that underwraps. HYDRA made a lot of people paranoid."

"Tell me about it," you mumble. Then after a few seconds, you finally climb up to your own two feet. "Um, just let me go put on some shoes. I'll meet you in the hall."

Spencer's smile and nod eases some of your worries, but you still quickly make an escape to go put on some shoes. Your front door bangs open and you hurry to your hall closet. Yanking open that door, you pull on the first pair of Converse you come across. Then taking a moment to think, you grab a pair of knee high boots that you use every once in a while. Reaching inside, you grab your old badge and a USB stick, sticking your badge in your back pocket and the USB in your front pocket. Then grabbing your keys from the hook by the front door, you shut the door after exiting and lock it. Spencer is waiting down the hall for you and you jog towards him. He tightly smiles and then leads you downstairs, towards his car, and you sit quietly in his passenger seat while he drives.

On the way towards Spencer's place of work, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly did you do with SHIELD if you don't mind me asking."

You shrug. "Cat's out of the bag now, so I don't mind." You chuckle though it kind of falls flat. "I was, uh, a computer analyst for a while. But then I was taken on a field trip with a few agents and we ended up trading bullets with several not so nice guys. The field agents liked the way I handled myself and requested I level up, so to speak."

"And you never thought of trying to get hired on with anyone else? If I recall, the FBI and CIA were picking up ex-SHIELD agents after the fall."

You shake your head. "Remember that drowning incident I mentioned? Or the reason why I can't take baths anymore and have to turn my shower on and off between washing?" Spencer hums, remembering what he thought were odd quirks until he realized it was all because of your fear of certain amounts of water. "That drowning incident was HYDRA's fault. I spent months in rehab and just- well, no one wanted a damaged agent."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of glad they didn't. I quite like my neighbor who picks up take-out and bakes sweets for me after a rough case."

You try not to think too much about his words and instead choose to smile at him before looking out your window. The drive is only about twenty minutes and fortunately the radio fills in the semi-tense silence.

When you get to the FBI building, Spencer escorts you inside with a hand at the small of your back. You're given a visitor's badge and you quickly clip it onto the hem of your hoodie. The elevator ride up to the BAU's main floor is a short one and it opens up to a wall of glass where you can see several desks behind it.

Spencer opens the door for you and you can't help but make yourself seem as small as possible. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself as you enter the room. There are several people milling about, but no one pays you any attention. Only one female, dark bangs covering her forehead while the rest of her hair falls just passed her shoulders, heads towards you once she spots you and Spencer.

"Y/N," Spencer says, introducing you to the woman as she nears, "this is our Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Emily, this is my good friend Y/N Y/L/N."

Emily is all smiles as she reaches to shake your hand. "Hi! It's nice to finally meet the girl who takes care of our boy wonder after cases."

Spencer nervously chuckles and you find yourself genuinely grinning. "It's nice to finally meet you too. I've heard some funny stories about all you guys."

"I will neither confirm nor deny any of those."

Emily then leads you towards a room where three others are waiting. "Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Friend of Spence and ex-agent of SHIELD. Y/N, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau, and our very own technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

Everyone happily greets you and Jennifer even gives you the go ahead to call her JJ. You're offered a seat at their round table and you glance at their board filled with pictures of people you used to work with. Spencer sits next to you and you offer him a feeble smile when he reaches beneath the table to squeeze your knee.

"Alright, guys, I know we're all interested in the girl who lives next to Spence, but we need to get down to business." Spencer groans as his teammates all chuckle. "So Y/N, is there anything else you can give us about the victims? What exactly did they do? Did they all personally know each other or just enough because they were coworkers? Even the smallest bit of info that you think is inconsequential can help us."

"I, uh, I can do you one better," you say. You shift in your seat and reach into your front pocket, pulling out the USB stick. "Since I figure all those NDA's we signed are now null and void thanks to Agent Romanoff's data dump, and because you're Spencer's friend, I feel comfortable handing this over. It kind of made me nervous keeping it in my house anyway."

You slide the USB towards Penelope and she gasps, snatching it up and holding it as if it were the holy grail. "Is this- are these files? Because let me tell you, I tried to download those files as soon as they hit the net but there were just so many and not even our WiFi could download it fast enough before they were scrubbed clean."

You grin and nod, chuckling at Penelope's squeal. "I started collecting everyone's files that I could get my hands on. I started with the baby agents- agents whose files wouldn't toss up red flags when their files were opened. The more clearance I was granted, the more files I was able to download."

"Oh my god. Yes! You are my new favorite person." Penelope rushes around the table, bending down to kiss your cheek with a loud mwah! "Reid, keep this one. I'll be in my lair."

The group all chuckle as you blush, but then Agent Morgan is clearing his throat. "Not that I'm not grateful about what you're giving up, but isn't what you were doing illegal?"

You shrug. "It possibly was, but then Director Fury realized I was memorizing it all and didn't have a problem with it so long as those files didn't leave my office."

"But you have them on you now," Morgan says.

"Yeah. The USB was hidden within my belongings in my office. My office surprisingly survived unscathed after Captain Rogers crashed the helicarriers into the Potomac, and my stuff was packed up and shipped to me while I was in rehab."

"If you don't mind me asking," JJ wonders, "but were you at the Triskelion when HYDRA came out or..?"

"I don't mind the questions at all," you say. "It's actually quite nice to talk about it with people who aren't eyeing me suspiciously." The group flashes you small smiles. "I was actually on a consulting job with a recently formed SHIELD team whose base was a humongous plane that was constantly on the move. Anyway, one of those trusted team members ended up being HYDRA. He led a group of his men onto the plane, killed half of us to get control of it, and then locked me and two scientists into a holding pod before dropping us into the middle of the ocean."

"The drowning incident," Spencer suddenly realizes.

You smile sadly at him, nodding. "We sank to the bottom of the ocean floor. There were three of us and only one little oxygen tank." Spencer grabs your hand beneath the table and you're grateful for the grounding pressure. "We gave it to Jemma. Fitz and I were going to attempt to swim, but we didn't make it. Fitz blacked out first, then me, and then- then nothing. We woke up in a trusted SHIELD facility, and Fitz and I couldn't operate like we used to. With our brains having been deprived of oxygen, it messed us up for a while."

"Wow," Emily says. "I am so sorry."

You shrug at her with a small smile. "It was all part of the job."

"What do you do now?" Morgan asks. "I hate to say it, but with all our victims being ex-SHIELD, and you as well, we have to rule you out as-"

"I get it." You smile in reassurance at him since it kind of pained him to admit that you could be a suspect and have Spencer glare at him for even thinking it. "I'm a bouncer at a bar most nights."

Morgan chuckles. "A bouncer? You!?"

"Hey! I might not look like much, but I did train with Avengers. I could probably give you a run for your money, agent Morgan."

"Okay, okay," he muses.

"I also work as private security for Stark Industries when they throw galas. If you need the exact dates I've been working, I can get that for you."

"Please," JJ says. "Spencer's already vouched for you, but protocol and all that. You understand."

"I do. I'll just- I'll text my bosses to email my clock-ins and clock-outs."

Pulling out your phone, you immediately text your boss at the bar and Pepper Potts. You keep the explanation vague as to why you need it, but assure them it's very much needed for a case the FBI is working on. They completely understand and you even have to make Pepper swear not to get Tony involved.

The emails come in not even ten minutes later and JJ happily takes your phone to run the dates with Penelope, promising to be quick about it. You remain in your seat, watching as Morgan and Emily walk towards the board and start tossing their thoughts back and forth over what they've learned so far.

Your hands are atop the table, thumbs chipping away the already chipped nail polish you have on. The second you raise your hand with the intent of chewing on your thumb nail, Spencer catches your hand. "You okay?" He quietly asks and you stare at him. He then lets your hand go as you pull them back into your lap.

"Yeah. Just getting kind of tired. And a bit anxious. Someone's targeting ex-SHIELD agents and I- well I'm one of those people."

"No one is going to hurt you, Y/N. I promise."

You feebly smile, not taking his words to heart because you know he can't actually keep that promise. He might want to, but you know better than to take these types of promises seriously in situations such as this.

JJ reappears, a bright smile in place as she hands you your phone. "I'm pretty sure Penelope programmed her number in there."

"That's fine." You chuckle. You lay your phone on the table, giving your attention back to Emily and Morgan who's now being joined by JJ.

"Guys, Garcia is having a ball right now. There's so much information she wasn't privy to before, but I'm not sure how any of it is going to help more than Y/N already has." Emily and Morgan look at JJ, waiting for her to explain. "We already know victims weren't the best at hand-to-hand, which the unsub clearly took advantage of. But we need to know what they were presently doing and if they were checking in with anyone because there are a lot of dead ex-agents. That's not a coincidence. Either someone who's ex-SHIELD or HYDRA is picking off ex-agents one by one, or someone who has a grudge against SHIELD found a list of ex-agents and is working their way down the list."

"Where do we even start?" Morgan asks, incredulous. "SHIELD technically doesn't exist anymore and those who are operating in the shadows are nearly impossible to track down thanks to the Avengers. None of them are exactly easy to get a hold of after General Ross made it his personal mission to bring in James Buchanan Barnes for crimes HYDRA made him commit. They like working on their own."

"We'd have to jump through a bunch of hoops just to get a face to face," Emily says, sighing. "If we're lucky they'll want in on the case since it's related to SHIELD."

"Um, actually.." You nervously raise your hand, calling all attention on you. "You can bypass all those hoops."

Emily stares at you, sitting on the edge of the table as she crosses her arms over her chest. "You still have connections, don't you?" At your sheepish grin, she huffs in amusement. Every other team member straightens with hope in their expressions.

"Agent Prentiss, I am the connection." As you pick up your phone once more, JJ and Morgan step closer to the table. You scroll through your contacts, finding the one you need and tapping on it. Then putting it on speaker, you try to soothe your nerves as the ringing through the speaker seems to make the atmosphere of the room become tense.

The ringing stops as the connection is made and then, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my second favorite human on God's green Earth." You roll your eyes at the charm oozing from him. "What kind of trouble are you in now, doll?"

Emily and JJ's eyes widen, and you shake your head in amusement. "Put your boyfriend on the line, Barnes. I'm calling in a favor."

"Are you calling to finally take us up on that offer of joining us for a night?"

Everyone in the room seems to freeze, although Morgan is highly enjoying where this seems to be going. You close your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You can't believe they just heard that. "Steve really needs to put a muzzle on you."

"Well if you're into that-"

"Bucky!" You bark. "You're on speaker." Morgan finally loses the battle with his laughter and you wish you can sink into your chair. Instead you have to settle for just insanely blushing and covering your face with one hand. "I'm currently with the BAU of the FBI. They have a case that they could use some help on."

"Oh." There's a beat of silence. "Christ, Y/N. You should have stopped me sooner. Stevie's gonna lecture me again. Hold on. I'll go get him."

The line goes silent and you nervously meet Spencer's gaze. He's the only one who doesn't seem as amused which is why you don't find Bucky's greeting as funny as you normally would. Something about his expression actually makes you wish Bucky hadn't said anything.

"Y/N?"

You sit a little straighter in your seat. "Hey, Cap."

"What's going on? Buck mentioned the FBI."

"Uh yeah. I'm with Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Doctor Reid," you tell him. "They've been dealing with a case that had gone cold and well I kind of made a connection they hadn't seen before because they couldn't, and uh I'm sure they could use your help."

"What was the connection?"

You look at Emily and she nods, letting you tell him. "Steve, all the victims are ex-SHIELD. Specifically agents who wouldn't have had too much training; who couldn't hold their own without a gun in hand."

There's a sharp inhale. "What do they need?"

Emily's eyes close in relief and she holds her hand out for your phone. You happily oblige her and hand it over. "Captain Rogers, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I'm the one in charge of my team here."

"Hello, Agent Prentiss. How can my team and I be of help?"

"Well we mainly need to pick your brains and ask some questions. We're aware that SHIELD is still operating to an extent, even if it is in the shadows, so we'd like to know if the victims were still affiliated with you. If we're dealing with someone who is or was from SHIELD or HYDRA, we'd like to have you involved since you have more experience with how they operate."

"That's fine. I'll gather my team and set up a room. Are you okay to set up base here in the Compound?"

"Yes!" JJ says, starting everyone. She clears her throat and calms herself. "Yes."

Steve chuckles. "Very well. Gather everything you need. I'll be sending a quinjet for you all since it'll be faster. Y/N knows the pick-up location."

"Thank you so much, Captain Rogers."

Emily hands you the phone and seeing that the call is still connected, you say, "Hey, Steve? Thanks for this."

"It's not a problem, sweetheart. Are you okay though? You're an ex-shield agent yourself."

"I know, but nothing has been out of the ordinary. I'm okay."

"Good. You coming too?"

"I was actually planning on going home after driving the agents to the location. I'm not an active agent anymore, bub."

"I know you're not, but with that agent neighbor of yours coming here I rather have you here as well so we can keep an eye on you." You sigh at his protectiveness. "Bring a change of clothes for a week. I'll have Nat get a hold of your boss and let him know some of what's going on so you'll have a job to go back to once all of this is over."

"You're a pain in the ass, Rogers."

Steve laughs. "See you soon, Y/L/N."

The call ends and you set your phone down. Glancing up, you smile sheepishly at the team staring at you. "So, uh, I guess I'm tagging along. Sorry about that."

Emily opens her mouth, her words getting stuck as she shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be. You got us working with the Avengers within minutes as opposed to taking hours, possibly even a day if I had to put in a request."

Morgan whistles appreciatively. "This is insane. I'm gonna give Garcia a heads up about our field trip. Expect another tag a long. I don't think she'll pass up this opportunity."

You chuckle as JJ says, "Rossi is going to be so pissed he took a vacation and missed out on working with the Avengers." Then looking at you, she adds, "Do you think Spider-Man will be there? My son absolutely loves him and I would be the coolest mom ever if I got a picture or video with him."

"I'm sure Pe- uh, I'm sure Spider-Man will make an appearance," you say. "He's always hanging around after his classes are done for the day."

JJ's eyes widen. "You totally know who he is."

"I do. And let me tell you, he absolutely adores kids. Ask and he'll happily oblige."

"Guys. Guys!" Emily says. "Case first, fangirl later."

Spencer snorts and you elbow him on reflex. He grumbles, Emily and JJ grin, and you innocently smile at Emily. "Sorry, Agent Prentiss. I'll just- I'll go sit on that couch over there so I'm not in the way."

Emily starts telling her team what needs to be done, repeating herself again when Morgan returns with a clearly excited Garcia. Morgan informs everyone he'll go gather the boxes of files while Spencer immediately sets out to disassemble the board of pictures and post-its. Garcia excitedly rushes back to her own office to pack up a few things, while Emily and JJ figure out what all they'll need to be taking with them.

To keep yourself occupied, you waste a few minutes by playing a game on your phone.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but someone hesitantly sitting next to you takes your attention off your phone. Glancing up, you see Spencer sitting there and realize everyone else has cleared out of the room. "We should be ready to head out in about ten minutes."

"Oh. Okay."

There's a moment of silence and then, "Soo.. Bucky Barnes." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, and you can tell his amusement isn't exactly genuine. "He's- he's not the type of person I pictured you with if I'm being honest."

"Barnes?" You snort. "Ew. No." Spencer seems surprised by your reply. "Bucky likes to flirt with me because he knows it won't go anywhere. He's well aware of the actual person I have a crush on and he respects that. Mostly."

"O-Oh? So there is someone in the picture then?"

"Well, not really," you say. Squirming in your seat, you're not totally comfortable with the direction this talk has taken until you see you're not the only one squirming. Spencer is avoiding eye contact, but he's also clearly awaiting your answer. There's also a telltale flush up the side of his neck to the tips of his ears, and- oh. Oh. Seeing how nervous Spencer suddenly is makes you feel better. So better, in fact, that you feel you should speak up about something that you've kept secret for a while. "Well I mean I'd like there to be," you say, grinning when he freezes. "The thing is, he actually lives down the hall from me." Cue him holding his breath. "He's totally adorable, but also secretly hot which is so unfair, and he works for the FBI." Spencer's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide. You smile sheepishly and shrug. "The only downfall is that he's way too good for someone like me, so I settled for friendship."

Your heart is beating terribly fast and the only thing keeping you glued to your seat is Spencer grinning bashfully, cheeks pink. "If you ask me, I don't think he's too good at all. I-If anything, he probably thinks you were too good for him which is why he never made his own feelings known."

Relief washes over you and you laugh. "We're idiots, huh?"

Lips pressed together, he smiles wide. Then, "A little."

"Rain check on this discussion? We've got Avengers to greet and you have a case to solve."

"Of course!" Spencer hastily stands, offering you a hand up. Grinning, you take it and let him pull you to your feet while shoving your phone into your back pocket. "Wherever we're going, is it okay to leave our vehicles there?"

"Yeah. It's private property and pretty secluded. No one gets in without codes."

"Okay then. We'll swing by our building for your bag and then you can direct one of the drivers while the other follows."

"Sure. Sounds like a plan."

Because of the connection between the list of victims, you have an escort up to your apartment while you pack a bag. Emily and JJ happily accompany you, leaving Spencer to fend for himself with Morgan and Garcia.

In your apartment, the two female agents waste no time in subtly trying to figure out your exact feelings for their dear friend and you take great amusement in skirting around the answer they so desperately try to pry out of you. And it's only after your duffel is packed do you tell them you and Spencer had admitted some things to each other, but you are planning to talk about it further after their case is closed. JJ seems oddly giddy and Emily coos about their boy genius growing up. You blush, relieved that they've taken a to liking to you. Then when you get back to the vehicles, you know Spencer has been questioned as well given the smirks being sent your way.

The drive to the field isn't long and the team is impressed by the level of security for a seemingly abandoned airfield. There's an unmanned gate which you get off at to speak for voice recognition, punch in a specific code, give a hand print, and then secretly have your forefinger pricked for a blood sample. Then when the gate swings open, you quickly climb back into the car and instruct Emily towards the second gate where a guard sits. The guard greets you warmly and, after you introduce those in the vehicle with you, he assures you he knows all about the impending pick-up.

"So what exactly are we in for?" Morgan asks. You're all waiting in an opened hangar, the boxes they'd packed sitting on the ground.

"Your perceptions about them are about to be changed," you admit. "I'm sure you've all told yourselves that the Avengers are just like you and I, but you have no idea how true that it is until you meet them."

"Who is the nicest?" JJ wonders.

You take a moment to think about. "Honestly? They're all nice, but if I had to choose I'd choose Spider-Man. It's hard not to like him. The kid's a puppy."

"Who gives the best hugs?" Garcia quickly adds.

Everyone chuckles at her eagerness. "That's a tough one," you say. You ponder on it for a moment. "I say it's a tie between Steve and Thor. They hug full on, chest to chest. None of that half-assed, one arm hug nonsense."

Garcia practically swoons. "Oh to be wrapped up in those beefy Asgardian arms." You snort and shake your head in amusement.

Another twenty minutes pass and you regale Spencer and his friends about some of your work with SHIELD. But all too soon the telltale sound of a quinjet reaches your ears and when you look up you see one incoming.

"Well that was hella fast," Garcia muses when she spots the quinjet herself.

JJ grins. "Stark technology. Gotta love it."

Emily nods in agreement. "We definitely need an upgrade."

Whoever is flying the quinjet lands it with ease, and Spencer, Morgan, and JJ immediately pick up their boxes. Shouldering the strap of your duffel bag, you start heading towards the quinjet when the ramp is being lowered and the team follows a few steps behind.

Clint Barton walks off the ramp and you chuckle, hurrying your steps. Both your arms go around his neck and one of his arms wraps low around your waist. "Short stack," he says. "What trouble did you get into now?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm in trouble?" You pout as you pull back, pinching his cheek and cooing before stepping back out of range. "And what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on the farm with those precious little heathens?"

"I was, but Laura had leftovers for Nat and Wanda. I was just dropping them off when Steve rounded up the team."

"Oh nice." Then turning around, you gesture to the BAU team. "Clint, meet Special Agents Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the brains of the beauty of the team Miss Penelope Garcia. Guys, meet Clint Barton formerly known as Hawkeye."

Everyone shakes hands, with the exception of Garcia who slaps his hand away and pulls him into a hug.

"Baby girl," Morgan laughs, "what are you doing?"

She squeezes a chuckling Clint before letting go, she then whirling on her own friend. "This is my first time meeting the Avengers. Do not take this from me!" Morgan's eyebrows raise in amusement, the whole team and Clint chuckling.

Then not wasting anymore time, Clint ushers everyone on board. He shows them where the boxes and your bag can be stowed before taking the pilot's seat up front, only to be joined by Morgan moments later in the co-pilot seat. You show Emily and Garcia how to buckle in, and then take your own seat between JJ and Spencer.

Clint counts down for lift off and you grip your harness as you feel the quinjet take flight. Spencer nudges you with his elbow and you glance at him, grinning to assure him you're okay. But when you can feel the quinjet picking up speed thanks to the feeling in your gut, you close your eyes and are thankful that no one brings up the fact that you're actually really nervous right now.

Your left hand is grabbed and gently pried from your grip on the harness, and your eyes fly open in surprise. You look towards your left and JJ smiles at you reassuringly as she squeezes your hand in comfort. Then when your right hand is grabbed and given the same treatment, you glance over at Spencer and can't help but blurt, "I-I've never been nervous about flying before."

"It's perfectly normal to subconsciously be nervous or anxious after we trudged up your past earlier," he says. "Just close your eyes and relax. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nod, smiling shakily and turn your head to rest it against the headrest of your seat. Then closing your eyes, you're grateful for the team not asking you anything for the duration of the ride. Instead, they save their questions for Clint who's all too happy to answer what he can.

You know the Compound's come into view when Morgan whistles in appreciation. Clint lands to quinjet with ease and then everyone's unbuckling themselves when he gives the go ahead. Before you can grab your bag, however, Spencer is grabbing it and beaming at you when you sigh with mock annoyance.

One by one the BAU team disembarks after Clint, leaving you and Spencer to bring up the rear. You hear Clint introducing everyone and notice everyone's congregated around in a circle. Then just as you and Spencer join, you notice that Garcia is petting Bucky's vibranium arm. You snort, catching an amused Steve's attention.

"Y/N," he greets.

"Steve." You step forward, briefly hugging him and then Bucky. As you step back in line, you gesture towards Spencer to introduce him. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid. Spence, this is Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes."

Steve leans in for a handshake, but then pauses mid-shake. "Wait. Spencer Reid? The Spencer Reid?" He grins. "Are you- are you and the agent neighbor one in the same?"

You sharply inhale, eyes widening when everyone turns to stare at your rapidly blushing face. Steve's grin turns rather teasing and your eyes narrow at him. "Two words; octopus dick." Steve's amusement vanishes, and everyone turns towards a now blushing Steve as Bucky guffaws. You turn your gaze on him next. "I don't know why you're laughing, dolphin boy."

Bucky immediately shuts up and Steve shakily grins before addressing the team. "Okay! Now that we've all been introduced, lets get inside before Y/N starts a war she can't finish."

Morgan and JJ are the only two to follow after Steve, Bucky, and Clint. Emily and Garcia remain with you and Spencer, and both females look to you with pleading eyes.

"Please tell me how four innocuous words got two supersoldiers to blush like that?" Garcia asks, Emily nodding along with her. "I need to know!"

"Sorry, girls," you tell them. "Those stories get out and I'm dead meat."

The both of them grumble about not getting answers, but move on without fuss. Before you can follow, however, Spencer steps closer to you. "You won't even tell me?" He asks, voice quiet.

You huff. "You already know."

Spencer's answering smile is enough to make you roll your eyes and he's quick to keep pace with you as you enter the building. There are numerous people milling about, but since it's late most of the trainees are in bed. Every piece of furniture and fixture still seems brand spanking new, so you don't blame the BAU team looking around in awe.

Heading into the chosen office, you lead Spencer inside before catching Steve's attention. "I'm gonna let you guys get to work. I'll be setting up in my room if anyone needs me."

No one objects, so after taking your bag from Spencer you take your leave. You leisurely make your way towards the living quarters of the compound and find your room with ease. Opening the door, the familiarity of it brings a tired smile to your face. The lamps have been turned on, awaiting your arrival, and even the TV has been turned on with its volume on low. The walls and bedding is the same as everyone else has, but you know it's your room because of the personal pictures on the dresser and bedside tables.

Since you're going to be staying until the case is over and then probably a couple days more after, you decide to put your clothes in the dresser rather than leave it in your bag for the entire time. After that's done and you've switched your TV to a movie you like, you pick out a standard set of black sleep pants and a blue/gray shirt that every trainee at the compound wears to bed so you can shower before crawling into bed yourself.

You're grateful for the private bathroom and even more grateful to see the products you use already waiting for you. You turn on the water to the shower, grab a towel from the bathroom closet and set it on the counter along with your change of clothes before you start to strip.

You keep your hair in a topknot as you shower since you had washed it earlier that morning, so your shower is over within ten minutes. Then by the time you're dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, and your teeth are brushed, you exit the bathroom.

Stepping into your room, you startle at the sight of Spencer sitting on the small cushioned bench at the foot of your bed. He's staring up at the moving playing, the corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. But at your small gasp, he looks towards you, lips spreading into a fond smile.

"Captain Rogers said it was okay that I wait for you. I don't mean to intrude."

"Spence," you huff a laugh and then continue on towards your bed, "we have keys to each other's apartments and sometimes barge in without warning. I think you waiting in here is more than okay."

"Just needed to make sure," he says, "what with this being a new place and all."

"Mhmm." You sit on the edge of the bed that's right behind the bench, putting your feet on the cushion beside Spencer and practically hug your knees as you stare at him. "How did everyone settle in?"

"E-Everyone's good." Spencer turns sideways, grinning up at you. "We got our own rooms here so we don't have to be back and forth from a hotel. When we left, Garcia was being introduced to the holographic tables and now I don't think she's going to sleep tonight."

You chuckle. "I knew she'd fall prey to all the pretty tech here." He chuckles along with you. "And how did everyone take the news to hearing the details about the case?"

"They're taking it very personally," Spencer tells you. "Mr. Barton even asked to stay on as a consultant. He and agent Romanoff are not very happy."

"Well they might not be as smart as you, Doc, but I think they're going to be a big help. You guys will be out of here in no time with the bad guy in cuffs."

"Is that so?" He muses. You grin and nod. "And if we're out of here in no time, are we still waiting until you go home for that discussion we still need to have?"

"We can table the discussion," you say, "but I really need to do this before I chicken out."

"Do what?"

Without thinking too much more about it, you reach out to cradle Spencer's jaw in the palms of your hands. You bring his face closer to yours, pausing with barely an inch between your lips. It seems he's held his breath in surprise, but when he notices you're waiting for some sort of unspoken permission it's him who closes the gap.

There's nothing heated or rushed about the kiss- it merely being a chaste kiss of several little pecks before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. You smile, your lip popping free from where it stretches, and you giggle as he leans up to chase your lips.

"Ahem." The interruption causes you to jerk back from Spencer, eyes wide when you catch sight of Bucky leaning against your door jamb and looking quite smug. "Hope I'm not interrupting." You groan, laying your forehead on Spencer's shoulder while he quietly snorts. "So with this new development, does this mean our threesome will now be a foursome?"

You can't help but laugh and sit straight once more so you can see your friend. Unfortunately, the question actually gives you pause and there's a split second where you actually give it thought. But in the next moment your nose wrinkles and you shake your head. "What? No!"

He points at you, eyes gleaming. "You paused! You paused which means that no just turned into a maybe. I'm gonna go tell Stevie we're back in the game!"

"James!" Spencer finally laughs and you groan again when Bucky pushes off the door jamb, whistling as he walks away. "I hate my friends."

"Just wait until Morgan finds out. It'll be worse." Spencer chuckles as you sigh, and he gets up before walking around to the side of your bed. He places his palms down on the mattress, leaning over you to kiss you once more. "I'm gonna go to my room before Sergeant Barnes brings back reinforcements."

"Okay. I'll probably see you around the compound, but I'll do my best to stay out of your hair while you're looking for your unsub."

"Are we still talking after?"

"Of course. Well we can either talk or order in some Chinese and hole up in one of our apartments for a weekend. Your call."

"I like the second option," he says.

"I figured you would." You kiss him one last time and then push against his chest. "Now go. We'll figure things out soon."

#spencer reid x reader #marvel gen fic x reader #avengers imagine #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #marvel imagine #spencer reid #steve rogers #bucky barnes #clint barton #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #derek morgan #fanficimagery

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years ago

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Heart by Heart | Chapter IV | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the fourth chapter, you can find the first one here. This one's a bit shorter but I still hope you like it anyway. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 2.9K+.

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, mentions of weapons (barely any), slight angst (if you squint).

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: July 22nd, 2021.

-*-

Raul was fucked.

He learned that ages ago, but every passing day, it just seemed to get more and more fucked.

Y/N was the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on, he knew that the day he met her all those years ago, while she was still a kid like him. And as the time went on, she proved him wrong every single day, every time he looked at her, in his eyes, Y/N surpassed her own beauty and taking her own title as the pretties one. Raul knew he was a goner the first time he made her laugh, truly laugh, throwing her head back as she almost lost her breath, he knew he would have to do it all over again for the rest of his life just to hear the most beautiful melody ever created.

And maybe he was a fool, and obvious one for not even holding back whenever she was hurt or needed him. He would give Y/N anything in the world and he could be pretty reckless about it. Sure, Raul was capable of keeping it to himself all these years, even from his spy family and her, but Peter was slowly catching onto it and he knew it. There was a reason why Peter wasn’t a field agent and his not so subtle approaches only proved that right. But he honestly didn’t care, as long as he got to have her as his best friend and best girl, he didn’t give a fuck about what the rest of the world thought. He only cared about Y/N.

So watching her progress on the ring (hell, having his ass kicked by her was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him), watching Y/N taking part of such an important role as to plan the mission that would take down one of the biggest criminals on the world left him so proud. He couldn’t even describe it. Watching her sleep peacefully among his bedding, the glimmer of pure and utter happiness whenever she watched one of the marvel movies or ate her favorite cake made butterflies go wild in his stomach.

And as Aaliyah would say, he was probably a simp for her. As sappy as that sounded, it was probably true.

“Still with me, champ?” Y/N’s voice ringed on his coms.

Raul had to hold back a smile as Jack smirked at him on their watching point across the street “Always, doll, see anything?”

“Not really” she muttered annoyedly “think the package is late”

“Oh, sorry the bad guy didn’t show up on the perfect time according to your planner”

“Fuck you, darling, before I forget”

Raul huffed a chuckle as he changed channels on the surveillance system she hacked the night prior.

He was with Jack sitting on his apartment watching Y/N from the perfect window. The initial plan was pretty simple, Y/N would be dressed in casual common clothes, going through her computer on Genoff’s favorite coffee shop, to possibly catch him after coming back, so he could be used to some of their faces on his absence justifying new people around. Her undercover role was as a graphic designer that pretty much had a home office, which would justify her always being around that area. Tommy was the local barista trainee, summer job to pay for his scholarship, and this way he could hear some stuff and also be ready to jump and protect whoever was undercover there that day.

Celine was working on the front desk on Geonoff’s cover up business building, she was replacing the other girl that just left due to maternity leave, so it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. James got the work as an executive driver on a company that often was hired to transport Geonoff himself and his people, and Raul would also be on home office as a free lancer photographer, he’d be in an untitled relationship with Y/N which would be a good cover for them always being out and about together.

They would all be living in the same neighborhood, Peter and Celine would be living in the same apartment complex, which was just next doors to the one Jack, Y/N and Raul were placed. This way it would still be safe and pretty low profile enough to not draw curious eyes. And since the mission didn’t exactly have a precise deadline, they didn’t have a precise date to actually leave, so their flat was poorly furnished and decorated, filled with the ultimate basic things they could need in a month period. And of course, heavily armed in every corner and drawer anyone could think about.

“He just left his car two blocks away, think he might be just a bit behind your schedule, Y/N” Jack called from his place behind the screens she had set up the night before “Tommy, grab the cash register as soon as you can”

“Yes sir” Tom mumbled under his breath.

Raul inched a bit closer to the window on a spot no one could see him from bellow, watching as Geonoff himself entered the shop with two other man right behind him. Probably security team. He had to hold back his breath once he noticed the way the man had his eyes fixated right on Y/N’s table, before quietly muttering something to the other with him.

“Hm, excuse me miss?” a deep slightly hoarse voice caught her attention from the fake project displayed on her computer screen, Y/N looked up to find Geonoff right next to her booth.

“Oh hi”

“Why is he talking to her? He wasn’t supposed to just approach her!” Raul practically growled to Jack as the other just shrugged in response “fuck”

“Dude, calm down, Tom is literally just across the bar and she’s a fucking spy, chill, she knows how to handle this” Jack said shoving Raul’s shoulder playfully, to which he just rolled his eyes huffing in annoyance.

“I know, I know that”

Jack arched his eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips “Is this your way of admitting you love her?”

“Shut up and pay attention to their conversation, you idiot” Raul said pushing his friend off of his sit.

“I'm sorry, I just had to ask, I haven’t such a pretty girl like you around in a while, are you new in town, darling?” Geonoff asked leaning his hip against the sit across from Y/N.

“Oh no, not new in town” she responded with a giggle, trying to ease the nerves and slight nausea from talking to him and his half attempt of flirting “I moved to this neighborhood last month though, used to leave on the other side of the town”

“Oh, was it for work? How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s nice, I thought it was going to be quieter but it doesn’t really bother me” she said with a soft smile on her features “I moved here because I work from home, so I needed to get out of my last place cause my roommate was not exactly quiet, and my boyfriend said there was an available apartment on his floor, so it just seemed like a great opportunity”

Raul’s heart raced a bit more on his chest when she referred to him as ‘boyfriend’, which was completely stupid. Y/N was his best friend and this was only for a cover. But sometimes his feelings got the best of him.

“Boyfriend? Is he here?”

“Oh no, I think he’s at work now, he’s a photographer”

“It makes sense, he has the prettiest muse at home” he added with a wink, which made Y/N’s stomach twirl in her tummy, this man is absolutely gross and she just wants to find a way out of this conversation “is he joining you today or should I keep you company?”

“Tell him I’m on my way, sweetheart, don’t want this man any closer to you” Raul said through coms, Jack already grabbing his backpack with the material they had separated to be Raul’s cover as he threw a denim jacket and a pair of glasses.

Y/N gave Geonoff a gentle smile as she shrugged before adding “he told me he’d be coming here, something about the cupcakes being the best he’s ever had”

“Oh shut up, this is the worst excuse to get me to buy you cupcake ever” Raul muttered through coms as he jogged across the street and Y/N had to cough to hid a little giggle that threatened to escape at her best friend’s comment.

“Yeah, they’re really good, I think you’d like the chocolate one”

“Okay, thank you for the tip” she said, quickly noticing the mop of curls clumsy coming into the shop, a big grin blossoming on her lips as she waved at the heaving figure of her best friend “oh, there he is!”

Raul’s eyes found hers and he could only smile, forgetting only momentarily that one of the most wanted man in the country was just beside her, he shook his head to gain a bit more focus as he shortened the distance between them with every step “hi baby”

Y/N got up from her sit and was quick to throw her arms around his neck, as he did the same with her waist, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “Hi, honey this is… Oh my, just realized I never caught your name, I’m sorry, that was so rude”

“Geonoff, darling” he said with a smug smile on his lips, probably waiting some sort of reaction and proud of it.

And to Raul’s amusement, Y/N didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t give a single reaction, only offering a polite smile “Oh, nice name, I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend, Raul”

“Beautiful name, suits such a gorgeous girl like you” he said, eyes on Raul waiting for some sort of response.

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like it but I’ve always found it beautiful” he said softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys alone now, nice meeting the two of you” Geonoff said as his guards approached him with a paper bag “and Y/N, let me know if you need anything, I’m always around”

“Thank you” she said before pulling Raul to sit by her side on the booth as Geonoff walked out of the little shop “how was your day, honey?”

“Good, angel, got a couple of photos I think you’d like to see whenever we get home” he said throwing his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“You two are gross to watch” Jack grumbled through the coms making them both laugh.

Y/N turned her head to face him “you wanna go home to show me or you want to grab a cup of coffee first?”

“I think I want a bit of coffee, but we can order it to go, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever you want” Y/N said before sliding off the booth and pulling him with her, before stuffing her computer on her little backpack, which Raul promptly took from her.

“Come on, baby, can’t wait to lay down a bit” he ushered her to the register, where Tom waited patiently for them “hello there, I’d like an espresso please”

“Sure, anything else?” Tommy asked as he clicked on the little screen.

“Do you want anything, baby?”

“A red velvet cupcake to go, please”

Tom nodded looking a little nervous before speaking up “the other man with the security guards left this note and cupcake for you, ma’am” he then grabbed the little pastry and a fancy business card alongside it.

“Oh, I- are you sure it was for me?” she asked in disbelief as Raul tightened his arm around her.

Tom only nodded in response “positive, do you still want the red velvet one?”

“I- yes, please” Y/N let out before almost chocking on air, gently grabbing the card that contained the business information from his company (that she already had) and a little handwritten phrase next to a phone number, the note read ‘if you’re ever looking for a real man, let me know’.

“Someone’s got a crush on you” Raul teased trying to mask the anger bubbling up on his throat, but he knew she saw right through his facade. After all, Y/N knew him better than anyone else.

“Well, I feel bad for him, because I’m already taken, yeah?” she giggled at herself, lightly poking his chest to try and loosen his nerves a bit.

“Yeah, since I have you, know that I’m never letting you go” Raul pressed a kiss to her head huffing a small chuckle.

“Here it is, sir” Tom cut Raul out before handing him the paper bag, and he placed the money on Tom’s hand.

Raul offered a smile as he lead Y/N back to their place “Thank you, take care, kid”

As they were crossing the street, Y/N dropped the cupcake from Geonoff on the sidewalk, making it look like an accident as she cried out an ‘oh no, I can’t believe I dropped it!’ before tossing it on the bin. On the elevator to their apartment, Raul still seemed tense and too quiet for his normal self, but Y/N decided to drop it, maybe give him some time to deal with today.

Just as they opened the door, Jack was quick to pull them inside, grabbing the card from Y/N’s hand and tossing it into a special bag and running downstairs, probably to deliver it to a team so they could take it to the lab to run some tests. Celine was stretched on the couch, a knowing look in her eyes as she signaled for them to join her. Raul went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water in complete silence as Y/N sank down on the soft cushions with Celine.

“What’s wrong with him?” she muttered quietly, since there were no walls separating the rooms on this flat, only the bedroom and bathroom and Raul was standing pretty close.

Y/N sighed with a shrug “No clue, maybe just didn’t expect the interaction to go like that, I don’t know”

“By the way, you did great, he even got interested in you”

“Ew, no need to remind me, seriously that man is just gross, there’s something about him that’s just creepy, and I’m not even bringing up his criminal record” Y/N added grabbing a bottle water that Raul tossed at her after she nodded at him.

Celine nodded in understanding “Don't blame you, I think I would’ve punched him five seconds into talking”

“You wouldn’t last a single second with him talking” Jack said as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N and Celine laughed as Raul joined them on the couch, sitting on the armrest right behind Y/N as she leaned her weight on him. He threw an arm around her.

“I think we should order a pizza and have some beer, yeah? This was a successful day, Tom’s gonna be here any minute now and Raul didn’t die out of jealousy in 24h, only reasons to celebrate!”

“Don’t start celebrating now, Jack, he might combust at any second now” Celine said with a laugh and Y/N giggled shaking her head, looking up at him only to see his serious expression and a light pink tinting his cheeks.

“So, pizza and beer it is?” Jack asked pulling his phone.

“I think it’s a great idea” Tom said as he climbed through the back window.

“Okay, Jack, order the pizzas and grab us the beer” Y/N decided and Jack stared at her in shock.

“Why me?!”

“So you can do something useful for once instead of gossiping” Raul said playfully and Y/N smiled at that as Jack feigned hurt with a dramatic gasp.

“Well, there’s that and the fact that this genius idea belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Y/N asked

Jack stared at her and nodded “Well yeah but-“

“Then make it happen, darling” Y/N only threw a wink at him and he shook his head, but grabbing his phone to start ordering.

“Hey Tom, can I see the piece you brought back?” Celine asked without moving from her place on the couch.

Y/N took the opportunity to properly face Raul since the others were seemingly busy, so she cupped his face gently bringing his attention down at her “are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am, doll” he said turning his face to place a kiss at the palm of her hand before looking back at her.

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem fine five minutes ago”

“I just didn’t think he’d take such an interest on you so soon, I mean, you’re insanely gorgeous so it was obvious he was going to notice you, I guess I was just unconsciously hoping he wouldn’t” Raul sighed leaning his head against her hand and she let it slide on his face until she was able to curl her fingers on his hair “it’s stupid, I’m sorry, I was just being stupid yeah? Let’s focus on something else and relax”

“Are you sure?” she asked tugging on his hair a bit as he closed his eyes, nodding his head softly and she sighed “okay”

-*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

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cabensonsgirly · 3 years ago

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👼These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends (Multi-Char)[NSFW]👼

Multiple SP characters x fem!reader

Xandra, Billie-Dean, Ally Mayfair, Anne Gillette, Audrey Tindall, Wilhemina Venable, Ellie Staple, Diane Sherman, Mildred Ratched.

👼Slice 2👼

Co-authored with @billiedeannovak even though she’ll deny it.

👼Wordcount: 1530👼

👼Published on AO3: Read Here👼

👼 Taglist: @mrsdeanhoward @okpaulson 👼

👼 Content (some for later parts): Super Au, dubious consent, slow-burn, manipulation, face-slapping, drug-use, alcohol, smut, cunnilingus, strap-on, cum, choking, degradation, sex-work, court, bruises, spit, mommy kink, daddy kink, humiliation, public sex/teasing 👼

👼She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married. 👼

Rita leads Anne from the courtroom, the pair laughing quietly and talking amongst themselves as they made their way to an elevator. Rita gestured for Anne to enter before she went to herself, “Rita!” the older woman fights the urge to roll her eyes, telling Anne where she was to go and how to get there before she closes the elevator door. She turns to face the woman who yelled her name “Oh what a pleasant surprise, Detective Benson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Olivia shakes her head, jaw set firm as she stops in front of Rita “What the fuck are you doing? The evidence shows that she was the one that set the crime up! Who cares if Prestwick was blackmailed!? Gillette killed her damned parents and you know it. Just because you have some vendetta with my team doesn’t-“

Rita laughs, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face “How many times must we do this, Olivia? It is my job to defend people regardless of what they do, just like it is your job to investigate crimes ethically. I know I’m doing my job to the books; I can’t say the same about you. My advice, lie back and pretend like you’re enjoying it. You’ll last longer.” She steps into the elevator after the doors ding open, she turns to give the detective one last cursory glance “You lost, Benson.” She states before the doors close.

It doesn’t matter whether she believes Anne killed her parents or not, the woman had paid her generously to defend her and she was going to do just that. Nor does it matter the two have history, it didn’t impact the case or her ability to do her job. She was looking forward to the end of it though so she could finally actually enjoy a quiet drink without the guilt of knowing she should be working instead.

Once the doors open, she makes her way quickly to where Anne should be, letting out a breath of relief when she sees Anne sitting back in one of the seats, her blazer draped over the back of it. “You really think I’d risk doing a runner after the absolute field day you had out there? Ms. Calhoun I’m offended” she laughs, a coy smirk tugging at her lips “I’m saving the energy for once I’m cleared of my charges. How does that sound? You come back to the estate and unwind, just like the-“

Rita hushes her, swatting her arm lightly as she takes a seat opposite the blonde “Ms. Gillette! The walls have ears.” She shrugs her blazer off as well and leans back in her seat, propping her elbow up on the armrest before leaning her head against it, a small smile on her face as she looks at the woman opposite her.

“I never thought I’d be defending you in a murder case too, Anne. It’s one thing helping you get out of minor assault charges, but for a double-homicide?” She lets out a laugh, shaking her head “That is something else entirely. You were always one to make a grand show of things though, hm?” Rita quirks a brow at the blonde, a faint smirk tugging at her lips which earns an eye-roll and scoff from the blonde.

“Oh please Rita, I’m hardly as dramatic as that Tindall woman. Now, after this is all over, would you like to join me for drinks? Nothing else will happen, just an extra thank you for your hard work.” Rita sighs quietly “I can’t- I owe Novak a round after being so rough on her in court. She’s an amazing lawyer and a hard-worker, I’d rather not burn that bridge.”

Rita’s phone buzzes against the table and she immediately grabs it, turning the screen on to see the message before her eyes dart to Anne’s “They’ve reached a verdict, Ms. Gillette” she breathes out, a very faint hint of a nervous waver. “Well then, let’s get this over and done with.” Anne stands up and puts her blazer on, doing a button up in the middle then brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She follows Rita out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, this is the first time since this case started that she feels genuinely nervous- Not that she committed the crime, anyone would be nervous if they were in court.

Rita gives Anne’s arm a gentle squeeze before they exit the elevator and make their way into the court room, both ignoring the glares coming from the prosecution as they take a seat behind their table. “All stand for the Judge.” They do just that, Rita glancing at Casey out the corner of her eye, noticing how tense she appears before they take their seats again once the Judge has sat down.

Court: Will the jury foreperson please stand. Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?

Foreperson: Yes.

CLERK TAKES THE VERDICT FORM

AND HANDS IT TO THE JUDGE.

Rita rests her hand on Anne’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze upon noticing how anxious the woman was before returning her hand to rest on the table with her other one.

Judge: The jury find the defendant not guilty. The defendant is free to go home. Lets hope we don’t see you in this court again, Ms. Gillette. The jury is thanked and excused. Court is adjourned.

Anne lets out a shaky breath before standing up and throwing her arms around Rita in a tight hug, repeatedly mumbling thank you to her. Rita returns the hug before pulling back slightly, gently wiping away the few tears that had spilled onto Anne’s cheeks, giving her a soft smile “I told you that I’d make sure you were found not guilty, Ms. Gillette. I’m a woman of my word, you should know that by now.”

Anne smiles back and lets go of Rita before running a hand through her short blonde hair “A miracle worker.” She glances over Rita’s shoulder and sees Casey watching intently, a disheartened look on her face before returning her gaze back to the woman in front of her “I should get going, it looks like Casey wants a word with you and she definitely looks like she needs a few drinks. I’ll see you around, Rita.” She kisses the woman’s cheek in farewell before taking her leave, feeling considerably lighter and more free now that the case is over.

Once she is out of the courthouse, she takes out her phone and calls her boyfriend- well, he thinks he’s her boyfriend, but she really couldn’t care less. “Hi darling, you’re talking to a free woman. No I’m not upset you couldn’t be in court, it would hardly be a good look for a detective to be seen on the alleged criminal’s side. You can make it up to me tonight when you take me out for dinner- Yes Yn can come along too, she is your daughter after all. I will take her shopping for something nice- I won’t be spoiling the girl. She needs nicer clothing to go to the restaurant I have in mind. Don’t worry- I already told you I am not going to spoil the girl. I don’t like repeating myself so it would do you some good to actually listen. I’ll pick her up from university and we’ll go from there. Mhmm, love you too. See you tonight.”

She rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh, she was not interested in this man in the slightest and he wasn’t even that good in bed, it was his money she was after, and she would leave the relationship with all of it after they get married. He had been talking about marriage for the past few months seeing as they had been together for a few years, completely unaware of how disinterested she actually is. Anne was not a woman to fall in love, nor was she the type of woman to settle down and get married.

“You better not fuck this family up too, Ms. Gillette” Anne turns to find Olivia walking towards her, thoroughly pissed off “Yn is like a daughter to me, so if I find out you do anything to upset her-“ The blonde gives her a bored look “Do you have nothing better to do, Olivia? Were you not listening to what the judge said? I’m an innocent woman, so no, I didn’t fuck my family up, daddy did when he killed my mother before himself.”

She takes a step closer to the brunette, a smug smirk settling on her face “You may be like a mother to her, Olivia, but unlike you… I actually am her step-mom, something you will never be. Now, this may be a surprise to you, seeing as you’re someone that never works, I have things to do including taking Yn clothes shopping for our celebratory dinner tonight. You’re not invited.” She fakes a pout “How unfortunate” before laughing and making her way to the car that was waiting for her before getting in, telling the driver where to go.

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #anne gillette #anne gillette imagine #anne gillette x reader #rita calhoun #olivia benson #casey novak #Audrey tindall #audrey tindall imagine #audrey tindall x reader

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andyet-here-we-are · 3 years ago

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I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 4 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first three chapters please~)

"Wow. Either we're going to host a pasta eating contest this evening, or they have spread some news about an incoming pasta shortage in the country," Ciri teases as she looks at the mass of pasta boxes on the counter. "Or in the world," she corrects when she realizes he is still not done taking the pasta boxes out of the grocery bags. "Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"Then why?"

"Can't a guy buy pasta as much as he wants simply because he wanted to? Does there need to be a reason for that?"

"So, you're telling me that I cannot buy as much as candy I want, but you can buy a ridiculous amount of pasta. And you can do that because?"

"Because I'm an adult, and you're not. End of the discussion."

"But that's not fair!" Ciri huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I can't wait to be an adult so I can get whatever I want and be unstoppable."

Geralt reaches over and ruffles her hair before he asks: "What kind of pasta do you think we should make?"

"Can I ask something, too, before I answer to that?" When Geralt nods, she continues, "You've said that you met someone special, but you didn't let me know anything more than that. Is... Is this special person going to join us for dinner today?"

"Yeah, someone's going to join us for dinner, but it's not someone you don't know. Just Mrs. April."

"Oh. Okay. Nothing came out of it, I guess."

Ciri looks so disappointed that Geralt feels like telling her the truth. But no, he won't ruin the surprise and let it go to waste after keeping his mouth shut this whole time.

She picks up the penne one and shakes the box to make her point.

"With chicken, heavy cream, and—"

"And sundried tomatoes."

Geralt doesn't know why he couldn't think of that. It's both his and Ciri's favorite pasta recipe after all. For a second, he feels extremely stupid for buying every kind of pasta he could find. But then he thinks: "This won't be the last time Jaskier comes here," and finds himself imagining them trying to choose what kind of pasta to make together, and shakes his head a little. No need to feel stupid, he will have to deal with not only one, but two pasta monsters soon if he is lucky.

He smiles at the thought.

***

After setting up the table, Geralt takes a shower and starts to get ready. He nearly asks Ciri which button-up shirt he should wear, but then decides against it since he knows that she would put two and two together and ask something like:

"Since when you use your most expensive perfume at home just because our old, lovely neighbour will come over for dinner?"

Nope, he'll pass, thank you very much. He takes a look at his gray and white windowpane shirt, then at the other shirt he is holding in his hands as if making the hardest decision in his whole life. He doesn't want to look like he is trying too hard, but doesn't want to look like he's not trying at all either. It has been so long since the last time he was on a date that he—

"That's a... date," he whispers to himself because it only occurs to him now.

And suddenly he can understand why Jaskier sounded anxious about meeting Ciri.

This is technically their first date, and Geralt simply invited him over like that's something they have been doing for years. Most people don't even mention their kids on the first date— let alone introducing them.

But it's not the same thing, right? Jaskier already knows about Ciri, and the musician loves kids.

Jaskier didn't back away when Geralt talked to him about his daughter for the first time.

No, he didn't back away and didn't give him this "Oh no, he has a kid, that's such a deal-breaker” look like most people do. What he did was listening to him with interest instead, a warm smile on his face.

Maybe that's why it felt only natural to invite him over for their first date.

Still, even though he knows that everything will go perfectly fine, maybe it wasn't fair to put such pressure on him just yet.

Well, too late for thinking stuff like that now. Geralt doesn't think he will regret this though. He is somehow sure that he won't.

Smiling, he decides that the basic black button-up shirt and beige trousers will do just fine.

A few minutes later he gets a text from Jaskier:

[I'll be there in a few. Don't forget to leave the door open~]

***

Ciri is busy lying on the couch and watching Jaskier's cover again when he finally arrives.

He closes the door behind himself, being careful so as not to make any sound even though he doesn't have to do that since Ciri's watching the video at full volume and wouldn't hear even if he just hit the door shut anyway.

When he sees that Geralt is standing only a few feet away from him in the hallway, his whole face lights up like he has just seen a million fireflies hovering above them.

For a while, they don't even move.

They don't blink or utter anything.

They just simply stare at each other like they cannot believe this is really happening.

Jaskier looks so perfect with his dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with blue small anchors pattern that Geralt swallows—as always, he seems like he doesn't even accept the existence of the first four buttons.

One second later Jaskier mirrors him and swallows, then takes small, silent steps towards him until they're barely one step away from each other.

"It's good to finally see you, Mr. Handsome Nurse," whispers the musician, never taking his eyes off Geralt even for a millisecond.

"You call me 'Mr. Handsome Nurse' so much that I'm this close to thinking that you only talk to me because you have a nurse kink or something," Geralt whispers back, and Jaskier's lips slowly curve into a lopsided, mischievous grin as he slowly tilts his head to the side—the space between them closing.

He isn't sure which one of them is responsible for that, but he nearly feels the man's warm breath against his skin—they are so close that he can see his pupils react, and his heart skips a beat.

"I mean, I don't not have it," Jaskier lifts one shoulder in a half shrug "You're the one to blame. Oh wait, do I hear my own cover?"

Just like that, they are not standing too close to each other anymore, and it's probably for the best, considering they aren't alone and he doesn't want to give his daughter a heart attack.

"The very same. She watches your video again and again. I stopped counting after the fifth time."

"And yet she doesn't even know that she lives with the 'jabroni' she is mad at. Poor thing." The musician clicks his tongue before he grins again. "Or poor you. We shall see. Anyway, my time has come."

After hanging his paper bag on the hall stand, Jaskier silently steps into the living room and makes a beeline for the back of the couch Ciri is lying on.

"Gosh, what a handsome man," he comments as he leans over the back of the couch. "Eh," he says, scrunching his nose, "his nose doesn't look that great in the left bottom box from this angle, but well, what done is done."

Ciri practically jumps out of her skin when she turns her head to the source of the familiar voice. She screams, yeah, actually screams, and falls from the couch to the floor with a loud thump.

"Well, my fans usually prefer to hug me instead, but that's an option as well."

Ciri doesn't look like she is going to say something anytime soon. She just stares at Jaskier with owl-like wide eyes, and Geralt tries his best not to laugh as he leans against the door frame and watches them. The keyword is "tries" though because he is clearly failing.

"...why Jaskier is standing in our living room?" his daughter asks, eyes still on the musician.

"You can thank my hacker friend for that," looking pretty amused, Jaskier answers before he could and holds out a hand to help her to her feet, "he gave me access to all of my fans' addresses so I could surprise them one by one."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm quite sure that I'm dreaming." Ciri blinks twice like trying to come out of a dream, then frowns as she gets up, "Also, that's the worst idea I've ever heard, what if one of your fans turns out to be a psycho and traps you in their house for the rest of your life? Never lets you leave?"

"Well, I wouldn't have any objection to being trapped in here. Feel free to try. Let me know though if you guys are planning to keep me here forever, so I can grab a few essentials from my home."

"You mean your lute?"

Jaskier turns his head to Geralt before sitting on the couch and saying: "She is really a smart one, Geralt. Just like her dad."

"Even smarter than me, believe me."

If someone would tell Geralt that he would have to say "Ciri, please stop poking our guest," to his daughter ever, he wouldn't believe them, but he finds himself warning Ciri with the exact words since she sits next to Jaskier and disbelievingly pokes the man's cheek with her index finger with a determined and curious expression as if she is examining E.T. The musician doesn't seem like he minds it, though.

"You're real. And you're really here," she eventually decides.

"Yeah, as real as that delicious smell coming from the kitchen."

"This doesn't make any sense. I just can't understand why— I mean how is that even— Can someone please explain to me what's really happening here?"

"Why don't we do that while having dinner before it gets cold?" Geralt offers, and Jaskier must be really hungry because he immediately stands up from the couch and pulls Ciri with him before she can resist.

***

"So, basically, my dad was your nurse for nearly a month and I learn about this just now?" Ciri has this 'How could you do this to me?' expression on her face, so Geralt turns to link eyes with Jaskier and mouths the word, 'help' in his direction. Yes, he can deal with even villain-looking, probably dangerous criminal patients without any hesitation, but he can't deal with the way his daughter stares at him right now.

"It's not your dad's fault, Ciri. I told him not to tell you anything about it so we could surprise you."

Geralt loves how he says "we could" like they are a team, to be honest.

Jaskier keeps talking about how Geralt would let her know if it wasn't for him, and Ciri doesn't look that mad anymore until Jaskier adds: "It's not my fault that he is a handsome jabroni who didn't even send me a text and kept me waiting for too long though," while casually stabbing his salad with his fork a few times. "If he didn't call me today, my next cover was going to be 'Call Me Maybe' probably."

Geralt almost chokes on his water. He was so wrong about this whole "team" thing apparently. He knows that some people say "A first date is chaotic by nature", but he wouldn't think it would be this chaotic.

"This salad is pretty good, Geralt." Jaskier completely ignores his reaction, "And the pasta makes me feel like there's a festival in my mouth. It's fantastic. You weren't kidding when you said you could show me how a proper dinner looked like, I see. Kudos to you, gorgeous."

Geralt feels the heat rushing to his whole face, wishing the ground would swallow him up right now and here.

Seriously, someone please bury him.

If someone was told to look mad, surprised, and happy at the same time at an audition they would exactly look like Ciri—or Harrison Ford since he's excellent at that as well—because that's exactly how she looks right now.

"...this song was for my dad? He's the one who kept you waiting? He's the him in 'It Must be Him' ?"

"Uh-huh. That's correct, dear," Jaskier confirms before shoving some pasta into his mouth. "I think he's worth waiting for, though. Still, it was a bit mean of him to do so, don't you think so?"

"Any sane person would agree with you, Jask. Of course, it's mean and inconsiderate."

Jask? Did Ciri just call him Jask?

They are already teaming up against him, oh God.

"Right?! Thank you!" The musician exclaims, flinging his hands in a wild gesture. "I mean, he could just send me a simple text at least, it would take him only a few seconds."

"Don't even mention it. So... Since he finally called you and you're here now, does this mean that you're this special person he—"

"Do you want some more pasta, Jaskier?" Hoping to change the subject, Geralt cuts in, but it's in vain since Jaskier just replies with a quick "Sure, please," and apologizes on behalf of Geralt because he interrupted her, signaling her to continue. The nurse can't help but think that he looks like a fox digging beneath the snow for voles with these curious, hopeful, and focused blue eyes.

"It's okay," thank God his daughter doesn't continue with her question because Geralt really doesn't need to feel more ashamed, "I forgot what I was going to ask anyway."

Ciri gives Geralt her "This isn't over yet," look and asks the man something about one of his original songs instead.

Jaskier looks a bit disappointed at not being able to hear the rest of the question at first, but he answers Ciri's question wholeheartedly all the same.

***

They take their time eating as they have no reason to hurry, talking about whatever Ciri and Jaskier bring up. Geralt is proud of himself that he didn't actually choke in dinner, because with the amount of flirting Jaskier is doing in front of Ciri, he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Ciri's eyes sparkle whenever Jaskier says something flattering about Geralt and flirts with him, and she looks extremely happy—like she is living in a dream.

As much as Geralt says: "Sit down, you're our guest," Jaskier doesn't listen to him and insists that he helps clear the table after they are done with dinner, because: "We can be done with it faster if I help, I'm a guest with working hands, aren't I?"

So he helps with clearing the table, and also with drying the dishes Geralt washes by hand because they aren't supposed to be washed in the dishwasher. He answers Ciri's questions meanwhile and asks her some questions about her as well— her favorite color, her favorite animals, favorite subject in school. Geralt can feel that he is not asking just for the sake of asking, he asks because he wants to know. Because he actually wonders.

Even though Jaskier is here for the first time, it feels domestic in a way that isn't unwelcome.

When they go back to the living room, Jaskier disappears for a while and returns with that paper bag he had hung on the hall stand.

"Thought I'd surprised my biggest fan not only with my presence but also with a little gift," he explains, handing the big bag to Ciri with a smile. "I hope you like it."

"You shouldn't have," Ciri returns the smile, astonished.

"I wanted to," Jaskier says as he sits on the armrest of the couch, watching her carefully opening the gift. "I think you should just tear off the wrap, dear," he suggests after a while, clearly excited to see her reaction.

"Not gonna lie, I also thought about getting flowers for your dad, but then I thought: 'Nah! Why would I do that after I suffered because of him for fifteen days?' You know?"

Geralt lets out a long sigh, running a hand over his face. Jaskier will never let him live this down, will he? Geralt can picture him going "Remember that time you didn't call me for fifteen days five years ago? When you kept me waiting after I left the hospital? I still think of that time sometimes and it makes my heart bleed," five years later, simply because he refused something Jaskier wanted him to do.

"You did the right thing. He should be grateful that you're even here right now," Ciri agrees. Well, fuck Geralt I guess. It's not like he is Ciri's father who loves her more than anything and who needs her to defend him currently or anything after all.

She immediately goes for a hug as soon as she finally opens the gift, cheerfully declaring how much she likes it and thanking the musician.

"Geralt has mentioned that you love drawing," Jaskier hugs her back gently, happy with her reaction. He had bought her a huge, professional art set. It looks so beautiful that even the nurse feels like taking a shot at drawing again despite knowing too well that he sucks at it.

"I don't get gifts or flowers, okay, no problem, but can't I get a damn hug, too, at least?" Geralt feels like asking, because they look adorable and he wants in, dammit.

As if he is reading his mind, Jaskier motions for him to join them and says: "C'mere you emotional cactus—don't stand up over there like a sad spare tyre."

"I'm not a sad spare tyre," he grumbles a little but joins them in seconds, one arm hugging his daughter, the other hugging the musician.

"Yeah, now you're not," is what Jaskier says as he hugs them tighter.

***

About two hours later Geralt offers to watch a movie together and Ciri is busy setting up a movie—ninety percent "I, Robot" because she is crazy about that movie—before Jaskier can refuse.

Ciri talks about how mad she was when she first watched the movie with Geralt because she thought the movie would be about the short stories in the book, but in reality, the movie had very little to do with the book.

"It's okay though," she adds, "because this movie rocks anyway."

That's how they find themselves watching "I, Robot" with Ciri sitting between them with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap.

"Geralt, can I ask you something?" Jaskier asks before he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You look like a squirrel stuffing his little cheeks with walnuts," Geralt can't help but tease, "sure, ask if you don't get choked before you can."

"That's how you enjoy popcorn, you peasant."

"I don't know much about that since I don't like popcorn."

Jaskier gasps at that as if he said: "I bathe in the blood of the innocent every single day to maintain my health."

"How come someone doesn't like popcorn is behind my comprehension," he huffs like he is personally offended by that. Ciri warns them to keep it quiet with a loud "shhh," since she is fully focused on the movie.

"God, it's the same reaction every time I tell someone this," Geralt complains, "it doesn't even taste good, what there's to like?"

"You can always add some salt so it tastes good."

"It makes me feel thirsty then."

"Everyone loves popcorn! Everyone!"

"Well, not my dad," Ciri rolls her eyes as she pauses the movie. "If you weren't here he wouldn't even let me have popcorn even if I begged. 'It's not healthy, Ciri. And it doesn't even taste good. Let me peel some apples for you, instead.' " she imitates him, causing Jaskier to look at him in horror.

"Can you please stop looking at me like I'm a circle freak? I just don't like popcorn. Even that one pizza with peanut butter and gumball Crazy Eyes orders in 'Mr. Deeds' sounds more delicious than popcorn."

"...ew, just ew. I'm concerned for you if you actually think that. How about caramel popcorn?"

"I feel the same about caramel popcorn."

"You're impossible, Geralt. Totally impossible. Well, what can I say? Your loss, our gain. Right, dear?"

"Right!"

"Give me a high-five then!" The musician says with a grin, raising his hand. They share a high-five proudly as if they have just saved the world together from earth-threatening asteroids.

"What were you going to ask?" Geralt asks curiously, but Jaskier just blankly looks at him instead of answering.

"Let me guess. You forgot? See, you wouldn't forget it if it wasn't for all that popcorn questions of yours."

"Don't talk like that in front of our popcorn, Geralt. Ciri, can you please keep playing the movie?"

"Gladly."

***

"I think she fell asleep," Jaskier informs him with a whisper when there are about twenty minutes left of the movie.

Geralt pauses the movie and smiles when he sees that Ciri had fallen asleep on the musician's shoulder—the sight warming up his heart especially when Jaskier looks at her fondly.

"Figured out so. Usually, this is where she announces her dislike for V.I.K.I and rants about Sonny's wink."

"Can't blame her, V.I.K.I is so diabolic."

"We're all on the same page about that," he agrees. "Hey, it doesn't seem like you made her go 'meh' like you were afraid that you would, huh? I told you that she already adores you. I think she likes you even more now."

"Well, I was afraid that I couldn't prove that I was worthy of her gorgeous dad. And I hope her dad shares his daughter's feelings," Jaskier pokes Geralt's arm with his elbow teasingly.

"Oh, please. If anything, it was me who should have been afraid. You two teamed up against me, 'Jask'."

"It's because she's a defender of truth, not because she was playing favorites or anything."

"I better tuck in this defender of truth," Geralt says as he stands up, and if his eyes aren't fooling him, Jaskier watches him affectionately when he picks up Ciri so he can carry her to her room.

He gently carries her to her room and tucks her in. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin," the nurse plants a soft, small kiss on his daughter's head before heading back to the living room, feeling happy that he has seen her smile and laugh a lot today. And truth be told, he feels a bit excited that he can be alone with Jaskier for a while.

"Wanna finish the movie?" he asks after settling on the couch and plays the movie again when Jaskier nods.

"I've forgotten how cool this scene was." Jaskier says when Spooner screams "Save her! Save the girl!" and Sonny listens to him, trusts Spooner to apply the nanites. "Gosh, I've got goosebumps. Seriously. It's not even just a figure of speech."

When Jaskier holds his arm up to show it, Geralt gently strokes the other man's arm by instinct, feeling goosebumps along his skin. As soon as he does that, he feels that he gets goosebumps himself, but it has nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with the beautiful man sitting next to him right now—even though, yeah, Jaskier is right, this scene is so cool that no one can claim otherwise.

Without Ciri between them, they sit close to each other now, their thighs touching.

Geralt looks at Jaskier's surprised face; his incredibly blue eyes look so luminous in the reflected light from the TV. So luminous, and intriguing.

A moment later, Jaskier makes himself more comfortable on the couch. He then points at Geralt's right arm: "Is it okay if I— you know."

It amazes Geralt how he shamelessly flirts with him in front of his daughter but gets shy over this. He holds back a chuckle, gladly wrapping his arm around Jaskier.

He wonders if Jaskier can hear his heartbeats quickening when the musician leans his head on his chest.

"You make a comfy pillow."

"Thank you, I guess?"

"No, Geralt. Thank you."

And with that, they focus on what's left of the movie. Or more like Jaskier focuses on it while Geralt is busy focusing on him.

He knows that Jaskier is really focused on the movie because he hears him sniffing lightly when Sonny asks "Does this make us friends?" to Spooner five minutes later.

"Are you seriously crying over a robot right now?" he chuckles.

"He has a name, you heartless man," Jaskier argues, getting rid of Geralt's arm and wiping his tears away. "You don't understand," he holds a hand up in defense, "he made a friend. Sonny made a friend, Geralt. For the first time in his life."

"...so?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? It's an emotional scene." The musician lets out a frustrated sigh, "You're unbelievable."

"I'll let you know that even Ciri doesn't cry at this part."

Instead of making a comment, Jaskier turns to look at the TV again, so Geralt does the same, but he soon finds himself looking at him again because of his lack of comment when the movie is about to end. And that's how he realizes that the other man is busy trying to blink away the tears that have started to well up in his eyes once more.

As he watches Jaskier wrapping his arms around himself as if he's trying to hold himself together, he feels like this isn't really about Sonny anymore—maybe it never was.

"Jaskier..?" he calls his name, but the musician doesn't reply, looking lost in his thoughts. So Geralt puts his hand on Jaskier's shoulder and calls his name again, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks when Jaskier finally snaps out of his own head and confusedly looks at him.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just— I don't know what came over me."

Not buying Jaskier's answer, Geralt presses his lips together and just stares at him in a way that screams: "We both know that this is not true and I'm gonna keep staring at you until you tell me what's the matter."

"Seriously, it's nothing important," Jaskier gives a dismissive wave of his hand and tries to smile.

It isn't his usual, warmer than the sun on a summer day type of smile. It isn't his spectacular smile that makes Geralt think of everything beautiful in the world; makes him think of the most beautiful, colorful flowers, makes him think of a sweet wind that gently caresses your face just when you need it, making you feel at peace.

No, it isn't Jaskier's kind of smile that makes Geralt feel like watching the waves while listening to calming melodies, and he hates this heartbreakingly apologetic and tight smile the other man gives him.

"Doesn't seem like it," Geralt says softly as he squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, "Why don't you tell me what it is? I've been told I'm a good listener."

"It just—" Jaskier takes a deep breath and keeps his head low as he avoids looking at Geralt, his shoulders slumping as if in defeat. Geralt's mind is already racing with possible things that the musician could say.

"It reminded me of someone I used to know. Of my first real friend," he explains. "She had asked me the exact same question when I saved her ass from his so-called foster parents. 'Does this makes us friends?' I can still remember the look in her eyes when she asked that. I was the first friend she ever had, as well. We didn't get along when we first met, truth be told. But after that, we were simply inseparable.

"We weren't liked by most adults—and also by the other kids actually, because well," Jaskier chuckles dryly, "we were both pretty handful kids. It didn't really matter though, we could handle everything together. At least we felt like we could, and did so for nearly fourteen years, and then turned out we—"

Jaskier swallows the tight lump that has formed in his throat. He can hardly utter the next words, and when he does, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Turned out we can't handle too well with muggers with knives."

Feeling his own eyes brimming with tears, Geralt can't even react at first as he watches Jaskier crying openly.

After a while, "I'm so sorry," is all he can say before he wraps his arms around Jaskier's slightly shaking frame and pulls him into a hug. The other man welcomes the hug and snuggles up to him as Geralt repeats the same words again: "I'm so sorry, Jaskier."

"She was my best friend, Geralt," he whispers brokenly, burying his face in the nurse's chest. "She was like the sister I never had."

Geralt doesn't know how long they stay like this; with Jaskier quietly crying and holds on to him like he is his lifeline and Geralt resting his chin on top of the musician's head, caressing his soft hair with his left hand, and rubbing small, soothing circles on wherever his right hand can reach—on his arm, his back. It can be half an hour, it can be only fifteen minutes. He doesn't really care.

He just wants him to give Geralt his usual, heart-warming Jaskier Smile; wants Jaskier to feel better. Better and not lonely anymore.

He highly doubts that Jaskier has let anyone in after he lost his friend—let them really know him and get close to him. Anyone besides Geralt. And he can't help but wonder if that was why no one visited Jaskier at the hospital; if that was why he most likely didn't even let anyone know about the accident.

" 'm sorry for ruining our first date," Jaskier eventually mumbles. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

Geralt gently grabs Jaskier's chin and lifts it up a little so their eyes meet. Jaskier has a guilty, ashamed expression on his face, his eyes are red from crying.

"You're not ruining anything, you don't need to apologize," Geralt looks into his eyes and assures him, wiping the tears away from the musician's face.

Frowning, the other man mirrors his action and reaches for Geralt's face to wipe the tears away with his thump. "Making you cry is pretty much considered as ruining our date in my book. And to think that I just broke down because of something a bloody robot said—"

" 'A bloody robot'? He has a name, you know. It's Sonny. You heartless, beautiful musician. Shame on you."

Surprised by Geralt's comeback, Jaskier laughs and hides his face in the nurse's chest once again—but in embarrassment this time— as he complains: "Oh lord. You're the worst."

"Well, you probably shouldn't have dedicated that impressive, amazing video to me if I'm that bad. Seemed like you really spent so much time on it."

That makes him look at Geralt and give him a smile. And Geralt finds himself smiling back, too, thinking: "Here it is. His Jaskier Smile."

"I think you meant to say 'bearable musician', before" Jaskier teases. "That's the second time you've mentioned it, you really like it then I guess."

"That was one of the nicest things someone ever has done for me. And the same thing goes for your drawing, speaking of which," Geralt admits as Jaskier pulls himself away from him a bit. He finds himself missing his warmth already. "I didn't think you would do something like singing a song for me though, so imagine my surprise when I got home and saw that video."

"Wait, for real? Don't tell me that I'm the first patient who tried to serenade you. I mean— you're just so..." he vaguely gestures to him, "So you."

"You're not the first patient who tried to flirt with me, but you're the first one who took it that far. And the first one who went full 'here's my number, so call me, definitely,' on me."

"No regrets. Well, actually, I take that back. One regret. I regret that I didn't ask for your number that day. Uh, Geralt?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel terrible about before. I mean it, I shouldn't have brought it up and I'm really—

"If you say 'sorry' again I'll lock you in a room filled with popcorn without any salt and let you rot there."

"That's your idea of torture?"

"That's my idea of hell."

"I must say that your idea of hell is pretty sweet then, if only it—" Jaskier's eyes suddenly widen when Geralt lets out a tired yawn, "Oh shit, what time is it?" he asks, frantically searching for his phone on the couch, then looking at the coffee table to see if it's on there.

"I think you left your phone in the kitchen," the nurse replies, not understanding why he is panicking. “Maybe he was supposed to call someone, but he forgot about it,” his mind suggests, but then Jaskier asks the same question again with a bonus, "When are you gonna go to work tomorrow?" question.

"You're gonna wake up early tomorrow, right? I'm sorry that I kept you this— I mean, please accept my apologies that I kept you up this late. And please don't let me rot in the Popcorn Room just because I said 'sorry'. It's late, isn't it? It's probably already past 1 a.m, and yet here I am. Good God," the musician shakes his head and stands up, clearly frustrated with himself, "how inconsiderate of me."

Finding his reaction to the situation adorable, Geralt chuckles and reaches out to the other man to pull him back on the couch, but Jaskier resists.

"It's okay, calm down. I'm on the night shift tomorrow," Geralt lets him know. "Also, I thought you had no problem with the Popcorn Room since you love popcorn."

"Oh. Glad to hear that you don't need to wake up that early tomorrow then," Jaskier says, looking like he feels suddenly stupid. "Still though, I'm sure you had a tiring day at work today, so I better get going already. And for the record; I don't have any problem with being locked in a room filled with popcorn, I have a problem with not having you there with me. Anyway, thank you for having me today, Geralt. I'm so happy that I could finally see you again and finally met Ciri. She is such a sweetheart."

Geralt pats the empty space next to him, but Jaskier taps his wrist twice like he's wearing a watch, trying to emphasize the time.

"Wow, you're trying to get rid of me already, I see," the nurse jokes, hoping it would make Jaskier convince to sit down again. "I thought it would take three days at least. Is it because I'm not wearing my work clothes? Am I not attractive enough without them?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes at that before saying: "You could wear a rubbish bag and still look attractive, Geralt."

"Then can you please sit down?" Geralt insists, "For a minute at least?"

The other man finally gives in and sits down next to him with a sigh.

"You're aware of the fact that Ciri will tear me to pieces tomorrow because I didn't wake her up when she fell asleep, right?" Geralt wonders, facing Jaskier and propping his elbow on the back of the couch so he can prop his hand against his cheek as he talks. "Besides, yeah, it's late. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

Jaskier opens his mouth—probably to kindly refuse, but Geralt doesn't let him speak and continues: "If you're thinking about replying with 'I don't want to bother you,' or something like that, you better get ready to say hi to the hell because it's nonsense."

"Hmm." The other man copies his sitting position on the couch, "By 'hell' you mean the Popcorn Room again, of course."

"Damn right."

"Well, I think I'd like to stay away from hell tonight," Jaskier shrugs one shoulder lazily. "Only if you promise to go to sleep soon, though. Otherwise, lead the way to the hell, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I think you missed the part where I said I don't have to wake up that early tomorrow," Geralt snorts. "How about we go to the kitchen now so I can make us hot chocolate?"

"No, I heard it loud and clear," Jaskier stares at him with a neutral expression, "but you still need to rest, love."

Geralt hopes Jaskier cannot see he is blushing because of the way the musician chose to finish his sentence.

He is about the resist when Jaskier holds up a finger in warning, "I mean it. I'm outta here if you decide to argue with me on that."

The nurse can't help but sigh in disbelief and disappointment. It makes his heart flutter in his chest though, because he is sure that Jaskier would love to stay up for another hour at least and just keep talking, too, and yet, he puts Geralt first.

As much as he wants to argue, he knows Jaskier is right—he needs to rest, and if he stays up for another hour he won't feel well-rested tomorrow.

"No wonder why Ciri gets annoyed whenever I tell her to go to sleep," he thinks aloud, causing the other man to grin at him.

"So, what do you say? Have you carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions? Shake my hand to check the box," Jaskier holds out his hand.

Geralt picks up Jaskier's hand with grace and lightly kisses the back of it without any hesitation. Not expecting this, the musician gapes at him—looking adorable as ever.

"Yes, Jaskier," the nurse smiles, "I have carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions."

They finally met! Yasss! A coin for your thoughts? I seriously wonder what you think about this chapter, dear Witchlings.💛 What part did you like the most? Did any part make you laugh or smile? I'd be SO grateful if you let me know 😅

I had so much fun while writing this chapter, by the way—well except for that one particular part. And the thing is even I had no idea. Jaskier just got emotional suddenly and here I was, wondering what the hell was happening. And it didn't feel natural to cut that part out, because it just happened.

And another thing is, I didn't think this chapter would be this long. I was just thinking "They will meet and have dinner together, then Jaskier will leave. That's it."

And I'm not gonna lie, I kinda wrote most of these two chapters in the same week instead of humaning and at one point I seriously started to wonder if Jaskier was planning to leave Geralt's home at all. I was planning to end the chapter when he leaves, so it was like:

-Okay, you met them, you had dinner, time to leave. Ciri, out of nowhere: Time to watch "I, Robot!" Me: No no no, that wasn't my plan, Jaskier is supposed to le— Jaskier, already eating popcorn and watching the movie: I'm going nowhere yet. *** Jaskier: *finally says he better get going* Geralt: Hell no! Me:

Joking aside, it's not up to me what he does and I love my precious, silly Dandelion. He can live there forever for all I care, I'm done with trying 😂

(Oh, if any of you have any ideas, feel free to let me know because I'm not sure what's gonna happen in the next chapter for now ><)

Thank you so much for reading 💛

#the witcher #jaskier #geraskier #geralt #my writing #nurse geralt au #jaskier x geralt

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yoongi-sugaglider · 4 years ago

Text

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2640

Part 15===Part 16===Part 17

The next handful of days became a blur of activity. Well, more so for the others than for me.

Hoseok and I had been ordered to strict bedrest, which only one of us actually took seriously. While I sat in bed most of the day, watching movies on my laptop or vegging out on as many snacks as I could convince Jeanette to bring me, Hoseok on the other hand snuck by Jimin as often as possible to help the boys with various projects around the house.

The only reason I even found out is because every few hours I’d hear Jimin fussing at him all the way up the stairs and back to the bodyguard’s bedroom.

I sat with Jeanette, Rose, and Jimin one afternoon, chatting away with them while Jimin checked my leg wound when Jungkook wandered into the bedroom, a stoic look on his face as he sat at his computer desk and turned to stare blankly at my injured leg.

“Something on your mind boss?” Jimin asked as he cinched the bandage tight and turned to begin putting his tools away in his bag.

“Mmm…”

The noncommittal sound drew my attention and I frowned at him, worry creasing my forehead as I reached my hand over to the small throw pillow I’d been using to prop up my injured leg.

“Oi! Earth to Jeon!” I yelled, tossing the pillow overhand at him. He caught it midair, never breaking eye contact with my leg as he tossed it onto the floor beside him.

“We can’t let Eun Kwang get away with this…” He muttered, the stoic look dissolving into a frown when he finally met my eyes.

“We’ve talked about this Kookie. There’s no point to trying to retaliate. We have no idea where they’re holed up. Nor how many of them there are or what kind of fire power they’re packing.” I leaned forward, pulling my pajama pant leg down and leaning back into the headboard.

“If we had even a sliver of that information…”

“Jungkook please…” I whispered, eyes pleading with him to drop it.

He growled, shoving his way out of the chair and to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides he glared at me, though the moment didn’t last long as his gaze softened.

I shook my head, nodding to Jeanette and Rose. “We have far too much on the line to risk even one of us getting dropped because of some half thought out revenge scheme. Jungkook, going out there would be suicide.”

“You wouldn’t leave a girl widowed before you’ve even gotten a chance to marry her boss, would ya?” Jimin’s quiet words seemed to do the trick.

Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as if he’d had half a mind to argue with the words from the wise doctor. But after a moment of fish bowling he shut his mouth, shaking his head with a resigned sigh.

“No...you’re both right. It’s hot headed and foolishness that’d get me killed before I even made it halfway there.” He bowed his head for a moment, eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

“See, Tae said you were a smart man.” Rose grinned at him, standing from the bed and patting him on his arm. “Come on bud, let’s get some food in ya. I bet you haven’t eaten all day have ya?”

I snorted at the two, waving them off and thanking Jimin for his hard work. The room quickly cleared out, leaving just me and Jeanette to ruminate in our thoughts for a bit while I shifted around in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to mope in.

“Hey y/n?” Came the whispered voice of Jeanette, causing me to pause in my movements.

“What’s up?” A smile came to my lips as I watched the timid woman worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“Well umm… I was talking to Jin this morning while we worked on breakfast...about the pantry and stuff?”

I nodded as she paused, motioning for her to continue when she glanced over to me with a look of worry.

“Well, it’s just that… Yes, we have an amazing pantry. MRE’s keep for ages and so do canned goods. But like...wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh produce?” When I remained silent and smiling at her words her face lit up.

She began talking faster, turning in place to sit cross legged before me. She pulled the pillow I’d discarded earlier into her lap to protect the tiny protrusion of her belly as she spoke at length about her plans.

“Since there aren’t that many of us it wouldn’t have to be that big at first. And of course it would take a while for anything to grow. But just imagine, come fall we could have all kinds of amazing fresh veggies. Corn, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes. I could even manage cucumbers and watermelon if we could find things for the vines to climb.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine and running my thumbs reassuringly across the ridges of her knuckles as she spoke, watching the idea grow bigger and bigger within her. The passion in her voice alone had me picturing the enclosed area, teaming with life and greenery and her tiny plump form tending to the plants as she coo’d at them as if they were her own children.

As she began outlining plans for bird proof netting she paused though, mouth curved into a gentle O of surprise and if I didn’t know any better, fear as her head whipped to the door to stare at Yoongi who’d been watching us...well her, talk this whole time.

“Oh...Yoongi I…” She bowed her head, seeming to shrink in on herself as if seeing the man had taken the wind out of her sails.

“Go on…” He whispered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an encouraging smile.

“It’s just….Jin told me to ask Hoseok, who pointed me to Jungkook, who told me to ask you...and well.”

“Jeanette…” My smile only grew when her gaze finally mine. Hope began shining in her eyes and it seemed that the entirety of her frame lit up with our shared excitement.

“I love the idea. Honestly. We can get Namjoon to draw up your plans. He’s basically a genius so I’m sure he could engineer it to be the second safest place in Daegu. And since we’ve been having issues with Hoseok sitting still for long enough, he can be on duty for helping you till the soil or anything else that you might need.”

“I’ll be there to help as well…”

I glanced over to Yoongi and he grinned at the shocked look on my face.

“All of my end of things is done. You can’t exactly expect me to sit on my thumbs while cleaning my weapons all day now can you?”

Jeanette giggled at his words, gingerly lifting herself from the bed and smoothing out the black YG shirt that drowned her figure, another of Yoongi’s favorite shirts.

“Thank you y/n. Really I mean it. I was worried that I wasn’t able to contribute enough to everything that was going on and well...with this…”

“Hey now, we talked about this.” Yoongi walked over, wrapping her in a side hug and tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “You’re doing plenty enough. Between laundry and helping Jin cook all the meals?”

“Exactly.” I chimed in, shifting to my side a bit so I could send her a less pained smile. “Nobody in this house thinks you’re a burden in any way. And if they even think it I’ll tell Jungkook to beat them up on the spot.”

Yoongi snickered, sending me another grin. “He’d do it too, no questions asked. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Well, alright then. It’s settled.” He began steering her towards the door, shooting me one last grateful smile. “Let’s get those plans started on. Let the boss lady get herself some rest.

As my bedroom door shut behind them, I couldn’t help but to wonder when and how they’d gotten so close.

***

By dinner time I’d managed to convince Jimin to let me down to the basement. Everyone was off doing their own thing and frankly sitting alone to eat in the bedroom again had made me so nauseous just thinking about it that I’d almost opted to skip dinner all together. But he’d seen the desperate plea in my eyes and relented, barring that I allowed Jungkook to carry me down there.

I sat with Taehyung and Rose, munching away at my meal as I watched them giggle over stories they shared of when they’d first met.

“It was a coding nightmare. I’d only been working for the main office for two months when they put his case in my lap. Some young kid that’d managed to bully his way into the Seoul Police department’s criminal database and posted all of the corrupt politicians with arrest warrants and speeding ticket fees to every news site that he could get his grubby little hands on.” Rose cackled, throwing her head back as her entire body shook with the force of her laugh.

“Hey! That was some of my best work!” Taehyung pouted, tossing a wayward green bean in her direction and causing her to snort harder.

“Best work? You had everything so scrambled from that little backdoor snipe that it took their tech department 2 years to set everything straight.” She shook her head, popping the betrayed green bean in her mouth before tossing one of her own in his direction.

He caught it in his mouth easily, smirking all the while before continuing his rant. “It was the art job that did me in.”

“Art job?” I leaned forward, almost instantly regretting the movement when a rib shifted and sent a spike of pain shooting through my chest.

“Shit, you good?” Tae asked, looking as if he was half way to dropping everything to come to my rescue.

I waved him off, shoving a hand over the cursed injury and grinning despite the pain.

“I’m fine. Now come on, tell me about the art job!”

Rose snorted, placing her plate beside her and leaning back on her hands to give Tae a coy smile. “It was why I call him Art Nerd. He decided it would be a good idea to hack into the archives of one of the biggest art museums in the world.”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Tae tossed up his hands, all angst and agitation as he stood abruptly and began pacing the room. “Of all the places you would think that would be trustworthy about their pieces and whether they were authentic or not. The Louvre!!” He paused in his pacing, pointing angrily to his computer before spinning on his heels to scowl at me when I began snickering.

“Did you know…” He paused, stalking closer and bending forward to glare in my face, “that 87% of all the art in the Louvre is fake?”

I gasped, feigning shock at the revelation.

“That’s right! It’s a travesty! They spit on the names of the greatest artists to have ever walked the face of this planet!” He growled, turning from me to begin pacing again. “The nerve of those imbeciles. Displaying Van Gogh forgeries as if they were the real deal.”

“Needless to say when he tried to tell the world what he found out he got caught.” Rose shook her head, picking at the last of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

She glanced over at me, sly smile broadening into a full grin.

“Did you know he was wanted in 27 countries for that little debacle?”

“Tae!!!” I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at him in awe.

He shrugged, literally beaming at this point with pride though he tried to play it off as bashfulness.

Rose pointed behind me and I shifted around to stare.

“Wait…” My eyes widened with equal parts horror and pride as I whipped my head around to glare at Taehyung. “Tae...you didn’t!!”

This time he couldn’t disguise the pride. He bounded around the sofa, skidding to a stop before what I had previously thought was just a bunch of band posters. There, hanging on the wall was what Tae had told us long ago was a quilt that his grandmother had given him.

He’d sworn that he’d remove the hands of anyone who ever dared touch it. Hell he’d chased Jungkook halfway to downtown Daegu once for nudging it with his shoulder during one of the boy’s many playful basement wrestling matches. But as he slowly and reverently lifted the blanket I quickly realized the real reason why he treasured it so much. Right there on the wall, hanging between two trashy band posters was…

“Tae is that Starry Night?? Like… the actual real fucking deal Starry Night?????” I screeched.

“I couldn’t help it. When I found out they’d hung it between two forgeries I just knew I had to save it.” He lovingly traced his fingers above the protective glass, never actually touching it but making the motions nonetheless.

Rose muttered behind me, snickering into her hand as Tae dropped the quilt back into place and turned to frown at her.

“What was that Jangmi?” he growled, his already baritone voice dropping as he walked back to stand over her.

She squeaked, shrinking back as he crouched down and lifted her chin with a single finger so that she was forced to look him in the eyes.

“I said...I...hnnggg…” The brilliant blush rushing to her cheeks had me bursting with laughter, gripping my sides as I pressed myself into the sofa.

“Damn you two are adorable.” I wheezed, wiping at my tears as I watched the two hackers spring apart as if they’d forgotten I was there.

Tae gathered up our dishes, muttering to himself all the while as he disappeared upstairs. But not before I spotted his own crimson cheeked grin.

“Huh…” Rose muttered. I returned my attention to her, realizing quickly that she was now staring at the security feed pulled up on the tv before us.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyes darting over the various live images before settling on one that showed Jeanette and Seokjin talking in the area they’d decided would be the future garden.

“I thought I saw something.” Came Rose’s absent minded reply. She clicked on the video I’d been watching, bringing it up to fill the screen and squinting at a corner of the shed beside the unaware pair.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, straining to make anything out in the depths of the shadows.

“Maybe not… Tae’s better at security monitoring than I am… Let me just…”

She began typing rapidly, a series of commands appearing on screen before a top down view of the area appeared.

“Is that…”

“A live satellite view, yeah. I figured, I’ve got access to them, why not use them…” She clicked again, zooming in rapidly before suddenly screaming. “Oh shit! There’s chatterers outside the fucking gates!”

“The fuck did you just say!?”

We both screamed as Jungkook charged around the sofa, appearing as if from nowhere and grabbing Rose’s arm in a death grip.

“What do you mean there’s chatterers outside the gates?” Jungkook glared at Rose, the hardened criminal in him causing her to cower as far back as his grip would allow her.

“Kook…”

“I’m sorry okay! I was wondering what it was that I’d seen in the backyard, and when I switched to the satellite feed I saw them. It’s at least 30 of them. Jungkook, we’re surrounded!”

#bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook #bts gang au #bts zombie au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #bts x reader #bangtan boys imagine

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yami-writes · 3 years ago

Text

The Underworld - AoA Mythology Event

(✨) paring(s) — Hades Shouto Todoroki x f!reader

(⚠️) warning(s) — some angst, talk about devils, hell and stuff, mentions of execution, fires and buildings burning down, major character death (nothing graphic)

(💌) yami's note — my contribution to Attack on Academia’s Mythology AU event! hope you enjoy- even though i know close to nothing about mythology :sob: also this isn’t a specific AU/theme or anything, i was pretty lost on what to do so i just went off what i knew + a bit of my own shit ( this is my first work in a while, i'm a bit rusty lmao )

Y/n, never to be held back by the rules. You always preferred to do things your way, bending and breaking rules to do what you wanted.

“I’m supposed to be executed next month.” You took a bite out of your mashed potatoes while Denki choked on his. “What!? How could you say that so casually!?”

“I don’t care. They’re supposed to be executing all the lifetime prisoners here as some sort of offering to the Devil or some shit.”

You spent the better half of your life as a wanted criminal, committing acts left and right at your will. You never had a reason to commit crimes, it was more or less the ‘You Only Live Once’ mentality, as well as your own curiosity that drove you to be a bad person. For better or for worse, you enjoyed your life of crime. It was a never-ending adventure, a game. What crime will you commit this time? How many cops would show up this time? How far will you have to go to escape them? It was all a fun game to you.

“I’d rather be executed than spend the rest of my life in this place. We’re not even treated like humans. More like rabid animals that could attack at any moment. At least if I get executed I’ll be dead.”

“At least if I eat food I won’t starve.” Denki mocked. “But is it true? Are you really going to be executed?”

“Yeah.” you take another bite out of your lunch. “The guards hate us, they’ve been wanting to see our heads on a stick for a long time.”

“What!? But if you die I won’t have anyone in here to keep me sane, y’know!! We’ve only been talking for a few days but I like you!!”

You merely nodded.

“Hey, Y/n!” Mina poked your cheek. “What is it this time?”

“Have you ever heard the term ‘yolo’?”

“The fuck is a yolo?”

“I said it’s a term!” Mina laughed. “It’s an abbreviation for ‘You Only Live Once’.”

You Only Live Once. Those four words touched your soul. They told you to go, do the things you never thought you’d do. Commit the crimes you’ve never even thought of committing. They told you nobody, not even the law could tell you what to do, only you could tell yourself what to do.

Time was passing fast. Minutes, hours, days passed and your execution only got closer.

You didn’t care, but word sure did get around fast. Two weeks until the execution and everyone knew. You received weird looks wherever you went, which was normal, but these were different. You couldn’t explain what made them so different though. Maybe it was the way they lingered for longer than you’d like, as you had gotten used to the quick glances.

They were getting cocky.

You ate your lunch in silence, Denki was nowhere to be seen but you couldn’t be bothered, you just hoped he wasn’t doing anything stupid. As your execution came up you had been thinking, mostly of your past, your decisions, your life. Specifically, that one night...

It was a quiet Sunday evening. After being passed around in foster homes, enduring abusive foster parent after abusive foster parent, you were put into an adoption center, where you were finally being taken care of. You never made friends with anyone, you were scared of them. You thought they’d hurt you, abuse you, call you names. You didn’t want to go through that again.

“Hey!” A girl called out to you. She sat in front of you on the floor. “My name’s Mina!” The girl had messy pink hair, it was hard to tell if it was natural or not. You stared at her for a second, unsure of how to respond. “Hello.” Was all you could choke out.

“You’re y/n, right? I think you’re cool, wanna do this puzzle with me?” She took out a puzzle of a cat wearing a wool hat.

“Sure.”

“Yay!!” Mina cheered, quickly dumping the pieces on the floor.

From that point on your friendship with Mina flourished. Countless days and nights spent together. Laughing, talking and gossiping, together. You didn’t want it to end the way it did.

Months later, you never imaged standing in front of the adoption centre, the building ablaze and falling apart due to fire damages. Your friend, Mina, nowhere to be seen outside of the building. Was she still inside? The entrance to the building had already caught fire and looked about ready to collapse. You weren’t quite sure if the emergency exits were available, but if they were Mina would’ve used them by now, she was always quick-witted.

“y/n..” The adoption centre staff that had escaped with you puts her hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but… They’re gone.”

You understood the concept of death very well, you’ve experienced losing someone before, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Hello, y/n.” A lady walks up to you, waking you out of your daydream. Her hair is up in a tidy ponytail and she’s wearing a prison uniform, she’s a prisoner too? “What? I was hoping to enjoy my lunch alone.”

“My apologies.” She sits down beside you. “I just wanted to talk to you before your execution, I think you’re very interesting.” You continue eating your lunch, minimalizing socializing with your prison mate. “Have you ever heard of ‘The Underworld’?” The lady asked.

“The Underworld?”

“Yes. It's where lifetime prisoners like us are bound to wind up. Lemme tell you about it.” She makes herself comfortable on the bench.

“If he deems you to be a bad person, the Devil will bring your soul down to The Underworld as a way to punish you for the sins of your past life. It’s a large, dark place, filled with the souls of people like you and I, who have committed horrible crimes and now have to deal with the consequences forever.”

“I see... And why are you telling me this?”

“I’ve been telling everyone about it! We’re all gonna go there!! It's good to be informed. Anyways, I’ll leave you to your lunch now. It was nice talking to you, y/n.”

“Okay.”

You pondered for a while after listening to that woman. She seemed pretty nice but it was obvious she had some screws loose.

You also thought about her teachings of The Underworld. If you enjoyed your life to the fullest, did it really matter what happens in the afterlife? You asked yourself that question often. You were more curious than you were afraid of the underworld.

You’ve heard many different interpretations of it, although the most common seemed to be one of suffering. Eternal suffering at the hands of Satan. The supreme ruler of Hell torments your soul for longer than the human mind can comprehend as a means to pay for the sins of your past life. The cold-blooded Devil rests on his throne as he listens to the tortured screams for mercy, to be set free.

The thought left your mind soon after, although you never seemed to get that woman off your mind. She was interesting, to say the least.

Two days. Two more days until you’re to be executed. As the days went by you became more and more curious. You had been thinking of the woman often.

She was a kind, yet mysterious lady. You’d gone around and asked other prisoners about her, but they all had nothing. Some people said something about her being pulled from a mental hospital and into jail but those seemed to just be rumours. Who is she? Where could she have gone? The prison was relatively big, so finding a specific person would prove to be pretty difficult, but almost two weeks of searching should’ve yielded at least some sort of information. You had given up on finding anything about her, she was just someone who wanted to speak to you, there was no need to spend the last few days of your life on her.

You never stopped thinking of The Underworld, or whatever it was called at this point. You wondered what it was really like. What really happened down there? Are bad souls really tortured for eternity? Is there even an afterlife? You wanted to know.

You went to bed thinking about it. About your afterlife.

You opened your eyes, a dark blue sky looking back at you. Outside? Your head was pounding and your throat was dry. Your body ached.

You could hear an eerie ambiance in the distance, this was truly an odd place. Ignoring the pain, you got up, taking a good look around you. The ground was made out of a mix of rock and dirt, around you seemed to be lakes of water. The sky was a dark blue colour, almost like a night sky, although there was no moon, stars, or sun.

“Hello.” a voice called out to you. You turned in the direction of the voice, a hooded figure stood before you. “Who are you?? Where am I??”

“Woah woah, calm down.” a hooded figure tried to calm you down. Their voice was rather kind, leading you to believe they weren’t a threat to you, they seemed to calm you down a bit. They wore a black, hooded robe and grasped a long stick with a red gem on the top. Behind them was a river, as well as a boat. “Was it a rough fall?”

“...Yeah,” you looked up at the gloomy sky, “I guess so.”

“I’m sorry about that, I'll ask him to add some sort of cushion here.” the mysterious person takes off their hood, revealing green hair and a rather cute freckled face. “I’m Izuku, I’ll be bringing you to the mainland.”

“Mainland?? Wait where even is this place, why am I here?? I’m supposed to be in prison right now-”

“Oh! You’re in The Underworld now. You’re dead, I'm sorry..”

“Dead!? How!? I wasn’t executed yet!”

“Your questions will be answered once we get there, so come with me into this boat and I'll take you to the mainland.” Izuku leads you to the boat, preparing it to sail once you get in, and soon enough, the boat starts to move onward.

“We might be here for a while, mind telling me about your past life? He never tells me anything about the souls that wind up here.”

“Uh sure, I guess. My parents died when I was still young, so I was tossed around in foster homes until they just stuck me in an adoption centre… One day one of the ladies that worked there caused a fire and it got burnt down, only me and that lady survived. After that I moved to the next town over and started a life of crime, I enjoyed it. Eventually, the police caught me and I was sentenced to jail for life for all the crimes I committed, they planned to execute me tomorrow but.. Y’know, I’m dead now.”

“Hm.. what an unfortunate life you’ve lived, although that story isn’t very new around here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard the stories of most of the souls down here, their lives began to tumble after a traumatic event. The loss of a loved one, car crashes, tragedies, I've heard it all before, but it doesn't get any less saddening.”

“I see..” you sigh, slumping over the side of the boat. You stare down at the water, watching your reflection. The water was almost as dark as the sky, tinted a greenish colour. ‘I’m kinda tired…’

“And~~ we're here!” Izuku announces, stopping the boat. “Sure did take a while.” You step out of the boat, taking a look around. It looks identical to where you first woke up.

“Follow that path, it’ll take you to Hades. He never asks to see anyone so you’re special!”

“He asked to see me!?”

“Yeah, I'm not sure as to why, but you better hurry! He doesn’t like waiting.”

“Oh, okay! Thanks!”

You immediately make your way down the path, concerned as to what Hades himself wanted from you. The path seemed to stretch on forever, turning corners before another straight, long extension. It almost left like you were going in a long circle.

At this point you had been in The Underworld for 30 minutes, although the sky hadn’t seemed to change at all, was there no time here?

After a long 15 minutes of walking, you made it to a large palace, tall gates of steel keeping unwanted guests from entering. A button rested on the side of the gate entrance. You pressed the button, unsure of what it would do. You wouldn’t be surprised if it summoned another hooded figure like Izuku to escort you into the palace, this place was unpredictable.

A loud ‘buzz’ sound erupted from the button upon being pressed, followed by a “Who’s there?” The voice on the other side was definitely different from Izuku's. It was deeper, but pleasant. “I’m y/n, Izuku told me Hades wanted to see me?”

You heard another buzz sound before the front gates opened. You anxiously walked in, not sure what to expect next. Your mind raced with thoughts as you wandered through the halls of what you assumed to be Hades’ palace. It was surprisingly bland on the inside, though. Maybe he wasn’t good with interior design.

After making your way through the halls, you were met with a surprisingly small room, with the classic long, expensive red carpets you would only see in movies. You felt somewhat bad for stepping on it, it looked expensive.

You looked up to see someone, a humanlike being sitting upon a throne.

“Hello?” you called out to them, inching closer.

“Ah, you must be y/n.” They acknowledge, standing from their throne and walking up to you. Was this Hades?

He looked more human than you thought he would. His face is what caught your attention, he was incredibly handsome. The type of man you’d only see in your dreams. His hair split in the middle, his left red and his right white. There also seemed to be a red mark on the left side of his face, it looked like a burn scar…

“Uhm, why’d you call me here? Shouldn’t I be like... Suffering? With the rest of the bad souls that ended up here?” you questioned him, trying to ignore his beauty.

“No. I’ve been watching you for a while, y/n. If I'm getting to the point, I want to marry you. I killed you prematurely so those awful people didn’t get the chance to, and so I could get to see you early.” He smiled. His lips looked incredibly soft, the kind you’d want to kiss forever.

“What!? Marry me!? But-”

“You mustn’t worry about the details, y/n. I love you, everything from your beauty, to your personality, I feel drawn to you. I would like you to be my wife. We could live happily together.”

The way he never elaborated didn’t make it any easier to take in, but an idea came to your mind. “If I marry you, will I still have to suffer? Like to pay for my sins…”

“Of course not, my love. Let’s say marrying me is enough to pay for them.”

You were curious to know what would happen if you didn’t marry him, or if you had a choice at all, but you decided you were better off not knowing for once.

“Alright, I’ll marry you.”

“Wonderful. Please feel free to explore the palace, and pick a room. I know you’re probably tired.”

“Thanks.”

After exploring the palace, you settled for a cozy room on the second floor. You liked the colours and arrangement of the room.

You lie in bed, pondering what had happened in the first few hours of your afterlife. You spent your life thinking you’d be sent down to meet Satan, an unforgiving force meant to punish evil souls for their wrongdoings, but was met with Hades instead, a God that was not only kind, but had at some point, fallen in love with your character. He had promised you an easy afterlife with him, an eternity you could spend however you wanted. Do the things you never got to do in your past life as a spirit.

You were beyond grateful to him, choosing to not only have mercy on you, but make you, a criminal who’s committed many crimes, his wife, another ruler, God of The Underworld.

Everything turned out quite different from how you originally thought.

#shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #reader insert #mythology #mha x mythology #bnha x mythology #mythology au #hades #shouto todoroki x reader

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cherryrogers · 4 years ago

Text

➸ protector

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | mob au

warnings: swearing, mild violence + assault, stalking, mentions of illness + death, fluff.

word count: 7.4k

synopsis: Ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with.

a/n: mob au’s are top tier so of course i had to write one at some point. i hope that this one is even a smidge as good as every other one out there !! please enjoy and any feedback is appreciated !!

A dark blanket had encompassed the city; swallowed the highest of skyscrapers and narrowest of alleyways. Engulfed shamrock green parks and swept through empty office buildings. Allowed for the busy city to sleep, ironically — this was New York, after all.

Below it, along a quiet street bordering Central Park, walked an unlikely duo. One who’d only ever known violence. The other hoped never to come across it. Yet under the deep ink sky, indulged in each other’s company, no two people seemed to harmonise so well.

“I thought you were walking me home, not taking me down every street in Manhattan.”

“What, have you had enough of me for the night?”

Furrowing your brows, you stopped in your tracks. “Is that what you’re doing? Stringing out the walk back so that the night doesn’t end so soon?”

Bucky looked back at you, a grin pulling at his lips. “Maybe.”

You smirked, poking a finger into his chest. “Tell me, Barnes — do your mob friends know that you’re such a sap?”

Eyes glimmering under the moonlight, Bucky shot a glare your way before slinging an arm back around your shoulder. “I guess I better get you back then — obviously you have better things to be doing...”

“And a drama queen,” You teased, leaning into his embrace. “Some big bad mob boss you are.”

“Yeah, yeah — give it a rest.” He rolled his eyes, only pulling you closer.

It wasn’t often in his line of work that Bucky met someone who could make him momentarily forget about the life he led. In fact, you weren’t in his line of work at all, and that’s why it was so easy with you. Frankly, everyone around him either worked for him or wanted to kill him; it was difficult to find anyone between the two that he could simply be himself with.

While he had power over Hell’s Kitchen, that didn’t mean it was safe for him to roam the streets freely. Ever since he was a child, his father had told him to always assume that he was being watched, whether it was by the cops or members of other mobs looking to cause trouble. Everyone he ever associated with became a target; a weakness. Someone whose death would throw him off his game. That’s why he never made friends, always sticking to the few ones he had who’d been in the crime world as long as he’d been.

Following a messy run-in with another mob on a night which felt like centuries ago, Bucky wandered into a random bar in hopes of clearing his head with as much whiskey as the cash in his pocket would pay for. But the bartender that night, well, she wasn’t having any of it. As it turned out, a conversation lasting until 2am with her did more for him than the strong liquid in his glass had ever done.

That night, he decided that perhaps he could have one none-criminal, none-mob, none-person that has a weapon on them at all times friend. Just one; just a friend.

He was honest with you about his work. At first, he wasn’t even sure you believed him. Because why would you? You couldn’t count the amount of times guys had made up horribly unbelievable lies about their occupations in an attempt to make an impression. ‘Mob boss’ would certainly be a new one, but not any more or less convincing than a supposed world-renowned doctor or a highly successful entrepreneur that had trouble adding up their bill total.

There was certainly something different about Bucky; in the way he carried himself, in how he talked. Plus, his eyes tended to always drift back to the entrance, as if he was anticipating someone’s arrival. While a doctor is a more common career for the average man than a mob boss, if anyone happened to be one, your guess would be the guy that was able to drink on weeknights without worrying about having a hangover for work the next day.

“It’s pretty dark around here, that’s all,” You shrugged, eyeing the star-scattered sky. “And muggers don’t make exceptions for the mob, unfortunately.”

“You don’t think I could take on a mugger? What do you think I do for a living?”

“You know, you’ve never actually told me...” You shifted your gaze to him, watching as his brows pinched together and the smile slowly disappeared from his lips.

Any knowledge you had of mobsters and gangs was from the movies. All the crime, killing, money — it seemed insane to even speculate that it was happening right under your nose. You’d only known Bucky for a few months, not once had you even questioned his work because you’d convinced yourself that it was better not to. That you liked the person he was with you, and whoever he was at work wasn’t any of your concern.

It spiked your curiosity, though. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done anything that’d horrify you if you saw it on the news. Being a bartender, you met new people almost every day — you had a skill in distinguishing good and bad people. Bucky had a good heart; there was nothing about him that signalled as a red flag. He genuinely cared about you — why else would he walk you home from work every chance he got? As well as being the reason for your full tip jar most nights, and simply spending most nights with you when he could be anywhere else in New York City.

A sigh fell from Bucky’s lips as he stopped the two of you under a lit street lamp. He brought a hand to your face, gently tucking your hair behind you ear. “It’s complicated, dollface.“

“Is it?” You asked quietly, uncertainty evident in your expression. “Or are you afraid of telling me in case it’ll scare me away?”

Bingo. A guilty grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Not many people can read me like that.”

You let out a laugh. “Well, not many people have the pleasure of talking to you for hours almost every night.”

“Yeah, you’re a pretty lucky girl.”

Scrunching your nose, you softly whacked at his chest. Honestly, picturing Bucky as a leading mobster in the city was difficult sometimes. Almost always, there was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes — nothing like the stereotype at all.

Within moments, he’d pressed his lips into a narrow line, tracing his hands down your arms before clasping your hands in his. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, or about this city. If you asked, I’d explain it all to you, but I don’t think you want that on your conscience. I was born into this life; I do what I do because I have to and it’s nowhere near an easy job. It’s a scary world to get caught up in, babe — one that I’ll protect you from for as long as I can. That is, if you’ll let me.”

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let your eyes drop to his chest, covered by the white dress-shirt and dark blazer that he always tended to sport. It occurred to you that his work had to be far more dangerous than you’d imagined. Truthfully, it worried you. What was so bad that he didn’t want on your conscience? Who would want to hurt you if you happened to get caught up in his world?

You agreed with him; it was a scary world, and you were a completely stranger to it. However, something else occurred to you as well. In the time that you’d known Bucky, that he kept you company on your late shifts, that he walked you the distance from the bar to your apartment every time without fail, you never once questioned your safety with him.

There was a time when you’d spend most of your tips from the shift you’d just finished to hire a cab to take you home, afraid of what hid in the shadows on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Alternatively, you’d wear a large winter coat on warm summer nights so you could carry pepper spray in your pocket and access it easily, not to mention the hand cramp you’d develop from carrying your keys between your knuckles for the entirety of the journey back.

With Bucky, you never needed to worry about being vulnerable, being a target — you’d happily let him protect your from the terrors of the world for the rest of your life.

“Bucky, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for walking me home every night.”

“You thank me all the time, and I always tell you it’s not a bother—”

“No, I mean really thanked you,” You cut him off, giving his hands a squeeze. “I used to dread leaving the bar every night. The thought of having to walk back to my apartment alone in the middle of the night, every night... it made me feel sick. And out of nowhere, this really gorgeous guy starts showing up at the bar every night and gets me home safely without fail. I— I don’t think you realise how safe I feel with you, Bucky. I feel so safe that I couldn’t ever be scared of you. You’ve looked out for me for this long out of the kindness of your heart — you’re a good person, you care about me. Your work might be scary to me, but you’re not, and I’m not planning on losing a good guy who happens to be caught up in a not-so-good world.”

Panic flared in your chest when you stopped speaking. You and Bucky weren’t exactly... an item, yet. Yes, he cuddled you to his side when he walked you home, he made you laugh like you never thought you could, he called you pet names that had your heart bursting with adoration. But between his hesitation about getting too close to you and your fear of asking him questions that he didn’t want to answer, an invisible boundary had set its place in the middle of you. Perhaps you’d been too forward, he only asked if you’d let him keep you safe and then you went on an unnecessary tangent—

Oh, he was kissing you. Okay, okay.

His careful hands cradling your face felt like the only thing stopping your legs from giving out; Bucky was kissing you. And fuck, it was a good kiss. One you’d been anticipating since the first time he walked you home. God, if your mother knew you were kissing a mob boss right now—

It didn’t matter — not to you. The job didn’t define him, even if everyone else around him told him that it did. You’d make sure he remembered that; you’d protect him in your own way.

Bucky pulled back first, anxious to see your reaction. It was impulsive, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when you were telling him how safe he made you feel, not when you said you didn’t want to lose him. Because he didn’t plan on losing you either.

“Listen, I’ve done things in the past that I’d rather forget...”

You shook your head at him. “Bucky, you don’t have to explain anything—”

“Please, just one thing,” He urged, watching you give him a nod before continuing. “I don’t— I don’t kill for fun, or steal from anyone out of greed, or hurt anyone just because I can. I know a lot of people who do all three without remorse; those guys are the ones I’m trying to take down. I just don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of monster—”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” You offered him a genuine smile. “I think... you’re doing the best you can with the life you’ve been given.”

In a rare moment of demureness, a light blush coated Bucky’s cheeks; he couldn’t have put it better himself. A kiss was pressed to your forehead before he was tugging at your hands.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

* * *

To put it lightly, you were not happy.

It was a Sunday; the only day of the week where you were able to spend the evening binge-watching nearly half a season of a show in the comfort of your own living room. The only day that you could spend alone — no social interaction whatsoever. After a week of dealing with (usually tipsy) strangers, God knows you needed a day to wind down.

However, this Sunday night, you were right where you didn’t want to be — behind the bar, pouring out another glass of rum to a man who really should’ve just started a tab, waiting for the blessed hour of 2am to arrive because a co-worker called in sick at the last minute. To top it all off, Bucky wasn’t there to accompany you. You’d thought about calling him, but your mind told you he was probably busy with ‘mob stuff’, whatever that was. Plus, he spent almost every other night at the bar with you; you could survive one night alone.

It wasn’t such a busy night; Sundays never were at such a late hour. By the time you were closing up the place, there was only one person who’d stayed the whole night. He left without a fuss when you asked him to, which was reassuring. It was going to be your first time walking home alone in months — you didn’t need something to be paranoid about.

Still, you’d came prepared — a can of pepper spray hid in your left pocket, while your keys remained between your knuckles in your right one. Sometimes, you wondered if you were being dramatic. When you walked home with Bucky, there was barely anybody on the streets, never mind anyone that was looking to attack someone. But your paranoia won over that rationale; you could never be too sure.

You didn’t take the long way home like Bucky tended to have you do. Unlike with him, you wanted to get home as fast as possible, not waste time dawdling around the streets.

And still, within minutes of your departure from the bar, you felt someone’s eyes on you.

Surely, the odds weren’t that against you. It was your first time leaving work alone in months — it couldn’t also be the night that something... bad was going to happen because of it.

Don’t think like that, you thought to yourself, huffing quietly. A few more blocks and you’d be at your apartment building. Nobody was watching you, nobody was following you. Paranoia was unnecessarily powerful; it had to be your mind playing tricks on you.

However, after a short internal argument with yourself, you decided that it couldn’t hurt to take a glimpse behind you — just in case. And maybe sometimes trusting your paranoid thoughts was the right thing to do.

Because with one look over your shoulder, your heart rate had doubled in speed — there was someone following you.

The man from the bar, you were sure it was him. Not that you were good with remembering faces, but you’d just seen him not even ten minutes ago. Is that why he waited till the end of your shift? To follow you? You specifically?

He was around fifteen feet behind you, purposely keeping his distance. Fucking hell; what did he want? What could you give him that forced him to sit in the bar for hours waiting to get you on your own?

Bucky was going to kill you, but you’d rather that than, well, someone else having the chance to before him. Within moments, you were dialing his number, ignoring the sense of helplessness you felt in your chest.

The phone rang, and rang. Too many times for your liking.

...

“_____?” Thank fuck.

The sound of his voice alone was reassuring; it’d be even more so if he was there with you. He didn’t sound groggy, at least you hadn’t woken him up. “Are you okay?”

“Hey...” You let out a nervous laugh. “Where are you right now?”

“Just at home, dollface...” He answered cautiously, obviously sensing your unease. “Are you alright?”

Approaching the corner of the street you’d been speed-walking down, you took a left turn, eyes darting behind you before you disappeared down the next street. He was still there, still close behind you.

Bucky heard your breath hitch. “Babe, what’s going on? Where are you?”

Fuck. “I’m walking home from work.”

“What? You don’t work on Sundays.”

“Someone called in sick, I got called in last minute,” You gripped the pepper spray in your pocket impossibly tight, fear coursing through your veins. “Bucky, I think someone’s following me.”

There was a moment of silence; you worried he was already mad. But soon enough, you heard the fumbling of boots against a wooden floor. If you weren’t so terrified, you would’ve told him that coming to find you was unnecessary.

“Stay on the phone, okay? I’m gonna come and get you. Keep walking, don’t go down any alleyways,” He instructed, as you heard the click of a front door shutting over the speaker. “Do they know you’ve seen them?”

“I— I think so? Fuck, I don’t know...” You uttered, panic laced in your voice.

The sound of a car starting up provided you with some relief. He’d find you soon; Bucky would keep you safe. “You’re okay, I’m right here. How far away from the bar are you?”

“Uh...” You quickly took in your surroundings — hopefully you weren’t appearing as panicked as you felt. “There’s a nail salon on my right. Next to an Italian restaurant, and there’s a Starbucks on the corner.”

Luckily, Bucky knew Hell’s Kitchen inside out. His boots pressed hard on the gas instantly. “I know where you are. Just keep moving, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, too afraid of provoking the man who was following your tracks. Was he even still there? You couldn’t bring yourself to check.

You imagined Bucky must’ve been breaking speed limits left and right on his journey to you, considering that it’d barely been five minutes since he’d got in his car before you heard a vehicle not far behind you.

Working up the courage to take a look back, you noticed that the man following you had been distracted by Bucky’s car. It was a large, sheer black SUV with blacked out windows; the perfect car for someone in his profession. Perfect enough that your stalker of sorts realised he was in for it, and immediately spun around to walk the other way.

However, he wasn’t getting off that easily.

The car door flung open, making you flinch even from where you were stood fifteen feet away. A figure dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans jumped out, catching the man by his jacket sleeve before he could make his escape — Bucky. He mustn’t have had time to switch to his regular attire. In different circumstances, it’d be nice seeing him in such casual clothes.

Within seconds, the man was slammed against the brick wall of the bank you’d just passed, Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. All you could do was watch, paralysed with shock.

Coughing and spluttering, the man looked up to identify his attacker; his eyes widened. “B— Barnes?”

“You know me?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth, his grip on the man not wavering in the slightest, even when he nodded furiously. “You’re sure as hell not one of my guys — who you do work for?”

Stupidly, the man continued to squirm, desperate to get out of Bucky’s clutch. His throat was only clasped tighter. “Tell me who you fucking work for.”

“P— Pierce! I work for Pierce,” He panted.

Fucking hell. “Did he send you here?

“Yes.”

“Why?” Bucky growled, yet again tightening his grasp when there was a pause in conversation. “I swear I’ll crush your fucking windpipe—”

“The girl,” He answered breathlessly. “Someone told him you’d been seeing a girl— one that wasn’t part of your mob. He— He thought he’d be able to get to you through her, so he sent me to spy on her, work out who she was to you. I was just following her, I wasn’t gonna hurt her—!”

“But Pierce is planning to, isn’t he?” Son of a bitch. This, this was exactly what he was afraid of. Pierce has been looking for a way to take him down for as long as he could remember. But with no outside connections, no obvious weakness to him, it was impossible. You were just what he’d been waiting for — a loose screw in the framework, a crack in the pavement. Someone that would throw Bucky Barnes right off his game if you were dragged into the mess that he was trying to keep you out of.

But he’d made a promise to keep you safe; he wasn’t planning on breaking it.

Jaw clenching, eyes narrowing — Bucky rammed the winded guy into the wall for the last time. “If I see you around here again, you won’t live long enough to report back to your bastard boss.”

God, he could just do it. Squeeze this bonehead’s throat until he was unable to grant his lungs the pleasure of a singular breath of oxygen. Leave his pathetic ass unconscious on the ground for someone else to find — for Pierce to find. He’d be furious, but he’d be scared. Scared of how easy it was for his nemesis to take out one of his men. Scared of what lengths he’d go to ensure your safety.

But you were still there, watching him, unsure of his next move. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to let you be the witness to a murder, especially one on his part. The one pure thing in his life — he wasn’t going to ruin you.

With reluctance, he snatched his hand back, letting the man fall to his knees and instantly gasp for air.

“Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll change my mind on letting your sorry ass live.” He snarled, not waiting for a response before he began jogging in your direction.

Lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes glossy — you looked like you’d seen a ghost (or just heard that a mob boss was planning your murder).

Concern contorted into his features, Bucky quickly approached you, stopping himself from grabbing your face in his hands in fear that his touch wasn’t what you wanted. Had he just ruined everything? Even though you’d claimed that he could never scare you, he wasn’t sure that after that performance that your statement still stood.

Your eyes zeroed in on his chest, cogs working in your mind to try and process what the hell was going on. And Bucky worried that this was it — he’d dragged you into something you never wanted to be a part of and now, there was no getting out for you. You hated him for it, didn’t you? Fucking hell.

But after a few moments, his doubts were proven false when you crashed into his chest, enveloping his waist and shoving your face into the crook of his neck. He’d saved you, just like you knew he would.

Letting out a breath of relief, Bucky drew you closer by encircling your shoulders. Behind him, the pathetic man who he’d just about let live scurried away from the scene, allowing you to peacefully bask in the safe place that was Bucky’s arms.

Still, he feared that being out in the open wasn’t such a good idea. Pressing a lingering kiss you the crown of your head, he pulled back to meet your glazed eyes. “I’m taking you back to my place, is that okay?”

Without a word, you gave him a nod. If whoever was keeping tabs on you knew where you worked, there was a chance that they knew your home address too — the thought sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

The car ride back to Bucky’s was quiet. Buildings blurred together as your eyes remained glued to the window, a dismal look on your face. In the driver’s seat, Bucky stole glances at you — he’d never seen you so silent, so down. The crime world was not something he was a stranger to. Being at the top of someone’s hit list was nothing new to him. Nobody could get rid of him; that’s why he was despised by so many, and he didn’t care to mind these days. Shooting his way was a waste of bullets, men sent to find him with knives and crowbars in hand were using their time poorly.

But you weren’t him. No, you were the bubbly bartender that got whisked into his mess simply because you’d been nice enough to ask him about his sullen mood the first night you’d met. This life was never meant for you. Only a sick, emotionless person would’ve sought to harm you, even to spite their worst enemy. Even as ransom, as a way in to seek out Bucky’s weaknesses. He’d told you little about his work, and for good reason. The less you knew, the less important you were to those against him. Knowledge was power in this business.

A clanking noise emerged from in front of the car, managing to pull your eyes from the window. The car had stopped momentarily to allow a grand, silver gate to open, cushioned between the start and end of the black metal fence surrounding the land. Bucky had reached a hand out of his window to punch a code into the keypad next to the gate without you even noticing.

You knew that Bucky was well-off, but fuck.

The house was smaller than you’d imagined. Definitely still large, especially in comparison to your studio apartment. But taking into account the designer suits he styled every night, the stupid amount of money he’d tip you for a single drink, even the confidence he carried at all times — not cockiness, but self-assurance — had you thinking that when he went home at night, that it was to a multimillion dollar mansion. All glass, taking up acres upon acres, all for one man to live in.

However, it wasn’t that at all. It had a maximum of two stories, along with a garage to the left of the main building. It was modern, for sure. Monotonous with its black front door and window frames, the rest blinding white — more subtle than celebrity mansions shown off on social media. It was very Bucky; impressive and eye-catching, but not too flashy.

He opened the car door on your side, allowing you to climb out of the SUV, taking his outreached hand even though you didn’t quite need it. You would’ve uttered a joke about chivalry being dead if it weren’t for your dull mood; perhaps another time.

On a more positive note, you definitely felt safer enclosed in the towering fence surrounding Bucky’s house. At home, you’d be scared to blink in fear that it would declare you vulnerable to an attack.

It wasn’t long before he’d guided you into his home, tapping another code into another keypad as you entered the place, examining it in awe. The scruffy black boots on your feet juxtaposed the gleaming checkered flooring underneath them. A silver chandelier spread light across the foyer-like area, making you squint after the drive through the dark night.

Bucky watched as you took in your surroundings, noticing the way you crossed your arms over your chest, bowed your head — you were curling in on yourself, as if you didn’t belong there. He didn’t like that.

But after a minute or so, you diverted your gaze to him, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “This place... it’s amazing.”

You’d only seen one room, sparse of furniture and lacking personality, but you didn’t need much more convincing of its splendour.

As confident as he walked, Bucky couldn’t say he took compliments well. It was the modesty that he didn’t even realise he had. Flashy watches and perfectly tailored suits littered his closet, sure — but not to reel in ego-feeding comments. He wasn’t the one who tailored his clothes, or carefully sculpted his wristwatches; he merely had the cash to splash on them. Many could only dream to have what he did — they’d take it in a second if it was offered to them. But for what? To maintain by being on the wrong side of the law and trusting that you woudn’t mess up? To be constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly having a target on your back?

He had a good life, he wasn’t denying that. Fear wasn’t the issue; he wasn’t scared. But he wondered if this was all there was to his life. Being someone’s enemy, the object of another’s hatred. No sense of normality to cling onto when things began to get messy. Maybe that’s why he became so attached to you; his sense of peace, a normal life. Which was ironic, since there was nothing normal about you. If you were normal, you’d be forgettable. And that, you were not.

As a thank you, he shot you a grin, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you need a drink? Or somethin’ to eat?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m more tired than anything, honestly.”

“I’ll take you upstairs then.” Usually, he’s take hold of your hand, or wrap an arm around you to escort you somewhere — he had a feeling you needed your own space right now, so instead, he let you follow his steps up the sheeny marble staircase.

It was true, you were tired. Exhausted, even. But you didn’t want to close your eyes, or be left alone, be left vulnerable again.

Bucky led you into a darker room, one that clearly wasn’t used so often. Still, it was large for a bedroom. A queen sized bed was pushed against the far wall, draped in royal blue sheets which complemented the grey cushions sat atop of them. A closet built into the wall took up one side of the room, and a plain, white wooden desk sat under the window on the other side. The door to an en-suite bathroom just peeked out next to the closet. Minimalistic, but lovely nonetheless.

“This is the guest room, usually where my sister stays when she visits every once in a blue moon,” He commented, moving to switch on the lamp standing on top of the desk. “There’ll be some clothes you can change into in the closet.”

A sister; you were even aware he had siblings. That was something he’d never talked about — family. Neither did you, so much, but it was as if Bucky didn’t have one at all. He said that he was born into the mob, so you assumed that his parents (or at least one of them) led the same life that he did.

With a small smile, Bucky acknowledged your thankful nod before leaving you to your own devices. It was obvious he didn’t want to pry, ask you questions that he already knew the answer to.

And you weren’t exactly sure what to say to him either. The situation was completely out of your control; if someone was after you to spite Bucky, how were you supposed to protect yourself? You couldn’t just move in with Bucky to ensure your safety, and it’s not like your apartment building with its rusty locks and lack of security detail put you out of harms way.

Sighing defeatedly, you stripped out of your work attire and kicked off your boots before taking a look in the closet. There weren’t too many nightwear options anyway, but you decided on a faded vintage Metallica shirt, cracks in the logo from the amount of times it’d been washed, along with a worn pair of baggy sweatpants. Not exactly an outfit that you were eager for Bucky to see you in, but given the circumstances, that was the least of your worries as you stepped out of the bedroom. You’d been alone for barely five minutes, but an uneasy pit was still beginning to form in your stomach.

The mob boss came into sight once you’d wandered back downstairs. Freshly poured glass of whiskey in hand, lounged back on a pristine white couch through an archway to the right of the foyer. Probably a lot more expensive that what he chugged down back at your bar, shipped directly from Ireland or Scotland. He didn’t notice as you stood idly in the archway, simply taking in his appearance — comfortable clothing, still sporting an extravagant Rolex (of course), slightly disheveled hair that’s been brushed back by his fingers — before slowly approaching the couch to take a seat next to him.

“You’ve never mentioned your sister.” His eyes flit to yours upon hearing your voice, tentative in case it was a sore subject.

The corner of his lips curled, not used to seeing you in anything other than washed-out jeans and a simple black tee. Shuffling along as you seated yourself, Bucky let out a breath. “She’s lived in Syracuse with my mom since she was barely a teenager, her name’s Rebecca.”

It brought you a sense of relief that Bucky still had family; since he never spoke of them, you worried that he’d lost them because of his lifestyle. “Does she visit much?”

“Nah, only a couple of times a year,” He shook his head, swirling his drink around in his hand. “It’s safer if she keeps her distance from the this part of New York. I used to never let her visit at all, but then— then my dad died a few years back, and after that she insisted on coming down here from time to time — said she couldn’t handle losing me too.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the job that killed his father. Lung cancer did it before another eager opposer ever got the chance to. Bucky had never been a smoker; never saw the appeal, especially after witnessing his father go through packs upon packs of cigarettes with the purest tobacco he could find to deal with the stress of the job.

And of course once he’d passed, it was up to his son to take over an organisation he wasn’t at all prepared for. Gone too soon, his father hadn’t been able to teach him everything he needed to know. Everything he needed to survive. Luckily, the Barnes kids were smart — Becca currently working on her nursing degree and Bucky, well, learning how not to die in his occupation.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” You sympathised, not wanting to keep pressing. There was a reason he’d been so intent on keeping you safe — his sister had already been driven away from the dangers and risks of being close to the mobs of Manhattan. He didn’t want that for you too. Not when this was your home, when he didn’t feel like he could lose you along with his sister because of the life he led. “I— I hope you know that tonight doesn’t change anything.”

His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

Fiddling with you fingers in your lap, you met his eyes dubiously. “I’m not scared— well — getting followed home from work by a guy sent by a mob boss to spy on me was pretty scary. But it hasn’t scared me away from you.”

Admittedly, he was happy with your words. The last thing he wanted was to see you running in the opposite direction. He wouldn’t have taken it lightly, even if he understood exactly why you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Throwing down the rest of his drink, almost numb to the familiar burn in the back of his throat, Bucky discarded the empty glass on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Pierce has been after me for as long as I can remember; he was after my dad before that. He’s a coward, I can tell you that. Gets his men to do his dirty work. Carries a gun but never uses it. He won’t hurt you, but he doesn’t have a problem ordering every guy he knows to do it instead.”

A timid smile tipped your lips, as your clammy palms pressed against your thighs. “Is this supposed to be comforting?”

He huffed out a chuckle, but apologised upon seeing the worry behind your eyes. He’d been desensitised to violent threats and things alike; he wouldn’t let that happen to you. “I’m sorry, dollface. What I’m trying to say is... those guys are puppets on strings. They’re not smart; they don’t think for themselves. None of them have enough brain cells to get past me, which means they’d never be able to get to you.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that. Good, that meant you trusted him. Because he’d never lie to you. When he said he’d keep you safe, he meant it wholeheartedly. Now that he knew Pierce was meddling in his part of town, that made things a little easier. He’d let the rest of the guys know in the morning. Form a plan of action to force them to stay the fuck away.

In truth, Bucky wasn’t afraid. With his whole chest, he’d say that he had a higher IQ than all of Pierce’s men combined. And he’d say the same for you. Having a gun in your pocket of a knife slipped into your boot didn’t make you clever; it didn’t inherently make you a threat. Not when your target was never in your line of sight, never able to be spied on unknowingly. You’d known you were being followed within minutes, and you had Bucky in the phone not long after the realisation. You trusted your gut, always — that’s what was going to keep you safe. And him, of course.

“I believe you,” You reach a hand across the lavish couch, curling your fingers around the top of his hand. “I really do trust you, Bucky. I hope you don’t doubt that. I meant what I said the other night, about feeling safe with you.”

He tensed slightly in his seat — he really was a big sap, wasn’t he? The head of a mob who had a countless amount of blood on his hands was getting nervous at a woman’s touch. Your touch, however.

“I know,” Bucky eyed you fondly, savouring they warmth of your hand cupping his. “Just... please, next time you’re covering a shift, call me—”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you grinned. “I knew that was coming. It was one night, I didn’t think—”

“But look what happened—!”

“And what would’ve happened if you were walking me home?” You quirked a brow. “That guy still would’ve followed me from the bar, he might’ve even followed us to my apartment and— and tried something once you’d dropped me off.”

You were right. It seemed like they only knew where you worked, not where you lived. Bucky would’ve liked to think if someone was following the two of you that’d he’d notice, but he couldn’t lie — an elephant could’ve followed you down the street one night and he still wouldn’t have realised because he was so caught up in you.

A crease formed between his brows; what if they had found out your address? Without him knowing, which worried him even more—

“But I don’t wanna think about that,” You added, seeing his features falling. Feeling brazen, you shuffled closer, your thigh pressed against his. His breath hitched; you noticed. Heat pooled in your own cheeks. After all, you’d only kissed him once. Being in such close proximity to him still had your heart pounding. “What matters is that I’m here, and I’m with you, and I’m safe.”

Like music to his ears, your words put the shine right back into his eyes. And again, he couldn’t resist pulling you into him — kissing you. Tugging you by the hand still clutching his, basking in the feeling of your other hand moving to rest against his jaw, and moulding his lips with yours. A perfect fit, he thought.

The bitter tang of whiskey was prominent on his tongue; you’d never been one for spirits, but the taste on his lips was impossibly addictive. Something you could get used to. Under the soft pads of your fingers, his jaw was freshly trimmed, dark and rough. Lips honey soft in contrast.

He took you upstairs after that. After you’d both pulled away, lips swollen and eyes hazy, still holding hands like letting go was a crime — the only crime Bucky would shy away from. You were tired, he could tell. If you’d been at home, you would’ve fallen into a slumber long before now; that was if no one had been following you back. While he trusted that you felt safe in his home, it was clear you were still a little shaken. Even more so when he guided you to the guest room, closing the curtains for you as you scrubbed your teeth in the en-suite bathroom.

You felt like a child again; hurrying to spit and rinse so that you could escape the cold, tiled room and fall back into the arms of someone you felt safe with.

By the time you were done and padding back into the bedroom, Bucky had changed into yet another outfit you had yet to see. Now in a white shirt that clung to his torso and biceps, along with grey sweatpants matching yours, he looked... he looked gorgeous. Maybe you were being dramatic; the suit was certainly attractive, but seeing him in his casual wear— it was so domestic. It spread a fuzzy warmth from your fingertips to your toes.

As you pried your eyes from where he was stood in the doorway, shooting you a gentle smile, you began to curl up against the headboard of the large bed. And before a ‘goodnight’ could leave his lips, you hesitantly asked—

“Can you stay with me?”

Brows raised, Bucky swallowed nervously. Of course, he wouldn’t say no. “If you want me to, sure. I can set up on the floor—”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Bucky,” You grinned, knees pulled to your chest. Always a gentleman, he was. “I’d... prefer it if you were next to me.”

Sparkling with hope, your eyes pierced into his. If anything, he was sure you’d want to be alone for the night. Gather your thoughts, consider cutting him out of your life for getting you involved in something so dangerous. That was his doubt talking — he knew that you trusted him. And if sleeping next to you would put your mind at ease, he’d never let you sleep alone again until you felt you could.

Moving under the thick quilt, you observed Bucky as he tentatively made his way over to the bed, suppressing a chuckle.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He questioned, just about to pull back the quilt on his side.

A smirk played on your lips as you reached forward, pulling the sheet back for him. “We just made out on your couch; I’m okay with you lying next to me. Are you okay with this?”

He scoffed softly. In that moment, he knew that a bullet to the chest or a knife in his stomach wouldn’t be the death of him — you would.

“Just making sure.” He sighed, eventually climbing into the bed beside you, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

The pillow underneath your head felt like a cloud as you laid down on your side, Bucky mirroring your position soon after. He’d left the lamp on; the dim light casting a shadow over his features. It hit his eyes perfectly, however. Ocean blue, inviting you to drown in them — you’d do so in a heartbeat.

“Thank you.” You murmured, eyelids already heavy. If you weren’t drifting into unconsciousness, you would’ve pressed your lips to his yet again, craving the taste of that priceless whiskey. As a thank you, another one — you couldn’t thank him enough.

All those nights he could’ve spent in his million dollar home, drinking the purest of spirits on his plush couch, perhaps with company that was a little more used to his lifestyle. All those nights he could’ve spent in the safety and comfort of his own abode, he spent in a cold, austere bar drinking alcohol less expensive than his shoelaces, with you.

And he’d do it every night for the rest of time to watch over you, make you laugh, smile — ensure that such a vibrant girl was never exposed to what truly lurked in the shadows of Manhattan. He’d do it because without you, he’d be lost in those shadows. Trapped in a life of crime and violence and misery. Nowhere to turn to simply breathe.

Finding your hand under the silk sheets, Bucky pulled it close, brushing his lips against it ever so softly. And he replied with a smile. “You too, dollface.”

Watching as you fell asleep, gentle breaths hitting the pillow beneath your cheek, lips still a little swollen, hand grasping back at his ever so slightly — he sighed. One of relief, of content.

Your Bucky, always watching over you. But you — you were protecting him too. Protecting the worn-down soul of a complicated man from being truly lost in such a brutal world.

For that, he’d be more thankful than you could ever imagine.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #mob!bucky #mob au

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years ago

Text

No Regrets

Fantasy AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part Two - No More

Part Four - No Death

A/N: Forgive me, I wrote this within four hours and have not edited it so it’s probably not-too great. Read it. - Nemo

Summary: After a meeting with Zeke, Levi confronts his Queen. There he finds out that she is in a lot worse shape than she wants to admit. He takes her health into his own hands.

Warnings: Blood. Injuries. Many, many broken things. Death threats. Again my bad poetry.

Listening to: ‘I’LL SHOW YOU’ by K/DA (slowed) - ‘That was the battle but this is the war.’

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

‘Blood turns to sweat, use it to repay your debt;’

He did knock. He did. The lack of an answer was what made him open the door without permission. In hindsight, he probably should have waited.

He shut the door immediately, narrowly avoiding your anger - displayed by the smashing of glass - and watched the dark amber liquid seep under the doorframe. In the dark of night, under the candlelight, the alcohol looked as dark as the blood your hands had spilled.

After waiting a few more moments, he opened the door again, hearing the glass scrape under the door, and crunch under his feet as he stepped into your room.

As his eyes adjusted, he took in the messed bed, sheets, duvets and pillows alike thrown aside and ripped to feathery shreds. The giant mirror and divider in the corner were both smashed to pieces, reflective glass shards littering the floor, and the paper punched through. Candlewax was left to harden, the walls had their fair share of the damage too. Among it all was you, facing away from him with a crystal glass cracking under your fingers - a threat to remind him that the bottle wasn’t the only projectile you had on hand.

Aside from the bright glowing runes on your sword - which was laying discarded against the far wall - and the red light of yours eyes reflecting back at him from the window it was completely dark.

There was one other light source in the room, however - coming from the original cut Zeke gave you.

What he had last seen as a so-so injury, was now something that would’ve had anyone else passed out. It was glowing, cracking and flaking at the edges, and deeper than he’d ever seen a cut like that be before. And it had grown.

The corruption of your sword had taken ahold of you, both hands wrung around your neck and it was not letting go. With every beat of your heart, the cut pulsed light, drawing his attention to how far up your neck it had gone. Nay, not your neck - your face. It drew an ugly red path up your jaw, cheek, and straight through your eye up to your hairline. He didn’t dare think how far down it went, instead only noting how you held at your side - just under your ribcage.

“Go away.” your voice came out rough, sounding as corrupted as you looked.

“You need help.”

“Leave!” You yelled, turning and throwing your glass right at him. He lifted his arm, shielding himself with the guard on his arm. His eyes never left you though, now with a clear view of the damage Zeke inevitably caused.

In short - it was very, very bad. You were weeping, and he couldn’t tell if it was blood or your actual tears.

“Do not tell me what you think you know, Little Captain,” you said, “Because I already know it and I will not be told again by the likes of you.” As you spoke more blood seeped out of your injury, leaving your nightshirt to deal with another cascade, making it stick to your skin even more.

“You need to calm down!”

“I am calm!” The hand on your ‘good’ side whipped around and grabbed him firmly on the throat, pushing him until his back hit a post of your bed. “Your ruling monarch is dying, you should be the one to be told to calm down, yet here you are as serine as a meadow brook.” You were holding him nose-to-nose with yourself, looking down at him with one eye brighter and redder than the other. Despite your shallow breath, chest heavy, and the look of pure murder in your eyes, your hold on his neck wasn’t making him fear for his life.

He could see in your eyes that he was the last person whose death was what you wanted. You were biting at him, snarling like a dog trapped in a corner with nowhere else to go - and he was daring to bite back at you.

“You were hardly this feeling when you killed our old king.”

“He was nothing but a puppet for Zeke. I’m surprised you hadn’t figured that out yourself.” you spat, “He was destined to ruin this land, and so help the gods you would have sat back and watched.”

You looked at him for a long while, waiting for his reply, or maybe for your body to pull away. Who was he to tell? However you surely were not the criminal you first were thought to be. Quickly looking back he could see those signs. The things old king Friz did with and for Zeke. Things that he could not see you doing.

“Let me help you.”

“I do not need your help.”

“You’re dying!”

“And if I do then you and many others will rejoice in it!” you said, your fingers flexing against him in anger. “But until then I’ll bide my time. The closer to death I am the more powerful I become.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowed, and teeth stained red with your own blood.

“Zeke will not be able to stop me if I can hold onto this for long enough.”

“You won’t be able to do it. I know you won’t.” He said, and then spoke again - quick enough to cut off another of your stubborn remarks. “Your hands are shaking. You can’t look yourself in the mirror anymore - how long do you think that will last before you kill yourself instead of Zeke? Do you really think you’re strong enough to do all that on your own?”

You stepped back, now only resting your hand on his throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

Before he could answer you broke into coughs. Wet and nasty ones. You doubled-over, turning away and kneeling on the floor as you pawed at your chest, staining your fingers with the blood on your shirt.

Levi decided then and there. He would make sure you lived.

He took his sword from his side, and joined you on the floor. You immediately recoiled at the white light, weakly pushing his shoulder away with the hand that wasn’t at your chest. Instead he took your hand, wrapping your fingers around the hilt, and the sword glowed even brighter.

Streams like white wisps came from the blade, and Levi had to hold you into his chest to keep you still so they could reach you. They entered your mouth like smoke, and almost as soon as they did your coughing stopped. Followed by your breathing. Then the tears stopped.

And then, there in his arms, on your floor, surrounded by broken glass, you were lulled into a sleep.

If someone told Levi he would be watching over you as you slept, he would never have believed them. Not three years ago, not two, and definitely not a few months ago.

But here you were, laying among fresh sheets, with your fingertips grazing his sword. You were healing and he was making sure you were getting that rest.

Most of the time he was, anyway - the mess you made in your room could not be ignored, not by him.

It was after breakfast by the time you woke up, bleary eyed and groaning. You turned over away from him, no longer touching your once source of healing, and rubbed your ‘bad’ eye. Sitting up, you turned back to face him.

You said nothing.

Shifting again to pull yourself out of bed from the other side. He watched you as you traced along where your injury used to be, fingers only reaching a long scar from your chin that reached under your shirt collar.

He thought about making a comment about your eye, but snappy comments never got either of you anywhere. Both of you had learnt that after last night.

“I will kill Zeke.” you said. He shivered.

You’d never once sounded as soft and caring as you just did - even with such threatening words. He was very unsure how the tone made him feel.

“I will release the iron and unyielding grip he has on his land. His resources. His people. I’ll set them free.” You faced him again, and he was shocked at how human you looked in that moment.

Levi knew Zeke was a bad man. His hunches and intuition had never once failed him when it came to telling what kind of person someone was. Zeke was one of the few people who left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d never trust Zeke.

You were asking him to trust you. To side with you. To make a choice he would never regret. But you also left a bad taste in his mouth. Unlike with Zeke, however, he was slowly getting addicted. Like the way a bubbling drink would sting your nose before you drank it - he was coming to enjoy the evil that soaked through all your good intentions.

Looking into your eyes, now more (e/c) than red, those human eyes, he fell then and there.

You were not just his Queen.

You were not just someone to obey.

You were not just a murderer.

Looking into your eyes, he knew he would do whatever you asked him to - no matter what it was.

“Will you help me?”

“Yes.”

‘Make the golden threat, choose the path you won't regret.’

#no feelin' timeline #fantasy au #knight levi #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #knight au

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years ago

Text

This Is the Time of Our Great Undoing

“Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?” Jesper whispers, more to distract Inej from what’s on the screen than anything else, but still—the idea won’t leave Kaz alone.

5.8k | modern AU | Kaz[/&]Jesper, part of a polycule

content note: despite the premise this is about cuddling, gambling addiction and existing during climate change

It starts the way most things used to start: with all of them piled onto ancient couches on the fifth floor of an otherwise empty building on the edge of Amsterdam, also called the Slat. These days, it’s harder and harder to get everyone together. Nina and Matthias are both in Rotterdam now, doing associate degrees that Kaz doesn’t care about. Wylan’s got room and board and a plan for the future and a social worker, and she already disapproves of Jesper as a bad influence so it’s not worth it, generally, for Wylan to come back to his old squat and hang out with the whole gang of ex- and current reprobates.

And Inej—fuck, Kaz wishes she was just a little less righteous, less concerned with how the world’s going to shit. She’s faced off against more cops now than he has, probably. Water cannons and charging horses and riot shields. She knows criminals all over the country, Europe, probably the world—but they’re the kind of criminals with morals and worthless targets, with bandanas and badly sewn patches, who will talk about Federici and sea levels and the Invisible Committee and use value if you don’t leave quickly enough. The kind that live on trees, as Inej’s going to do in a few days. The kind that don’t make any money. The kind that have even less of a chance of making it out of a job alive and free than Kaz does—and with the enemies she’s talking about, politicians, banks, Shell, he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to extort her out of jail next time.

For now, though, they’re all together in the big room, watching some ancient movie on the massive 8k screen with mood lighting, etc, the works, that’s in the Slat courtesy of some MediaMarkt manager desperate enough to save her marriage to bribe Kaz into silence, but not so desperate she wouldn’t fuck two other women in the breakroom.

It’s impossible to know whose fault it is that they’re currently watching Pulp Fiction.

Kaz is inclined to blame Jesper, because most things are his fault in some way or another, and he’s supplying the login data for an old uni flatmate’s streaming accounts, which is where they found that film, front and centre, paid to rent until tomorrow. Who even pays for films? If that’s the calibre of people they send to university these days, it’s no wonder the planet’s going to the dogs. Jesper, though, swears he wanted to watch some goofy horror flick, so he’s splitting the blame with Nina and Matthias: Matthias, for growing up in a cult and having never heard of what’s apparently a film classic and mentioning that to Nina, who of course cooed over her boyfriend and insisted on it, even though actually none of them have watched it before either so it’s not like it’s an important cinematic milestone. Or just not b horror, crime, some weird arthouse thing with complicated morality… It’s weird and has crime but there is nothing to figure out, so Kaz is bored. It’s Inej’s fault, because instead of vetoing it she said yes, just because she has a heart-shaped soft spot for Nina. Wylan could have done his oh I’m still an innocent barely-two-years not a minor this looks bloody thing, and Kaz might not even have mocked him this time if he'd insisted on Jesper’s pick instead just so he could hide in Jesper’s arms for the most minor decapitations.

Jesper’s been talking through the whole film. Kaz got used to that a long time ago: the landing and failing of small non-sequitur jokes like rain against the window, whispered to Wylan who’s cuddled into his side on the left, or to Inej who’s burrowing under Jesper’s outstretched right arm. Sometimes Jesper thinks a quip will land better with Nina, so he shouts it over to the futon where she and Matthias are always just shy of engaging in heavy petting, and the really mean and bleak jokes he saves for when he’s made eye contact with Kaz.

Now, though: in this scene Mr Motorcycle and the gang boss are captured in a pawnshop and dragged into the basement, and Gang Boss gets raped. Inej’s hand is white-knuckled on Jesper’s arm, and Jesper’s talking non-stop. He’s talking about the flooding, and asking whether Inej thinks Doggerland will happen again but here, soon, you can never know when the scientists are so wrong about the speed of climate change, and apparently it all flooded in a day because something broke off Norway, and then he abruptly pivots to some demo where he bashed in a shop window and got new shoes, and then if she’s got dates for more street fights because then he’s in but please, don’t trick me into another book club, I don’t care about why the cops are bad I already know I just want to hit them—not topics Kaz would have chosen, exactly, but he’s rooted in his red leather armchair off to the side, not even able to hold her for comfort, not like Jes does now, and why didn’t they think to look up the content beforehand, why did they assume it was tame just because it’s an old film—and then, long after it’s over, Jesper idly asks, “Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?”

Wylan groans. Kaz wishes a sound existed that could express his own current emotion.

“You saw the guy, right?” Jesper turns over to Wylan, while still stroking Inej’s hair. “There was no skin on him. All leather. And that’s the trigger, so—might solve all our problems. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“I don’t see a huge difference,” Nina snipes. “Kaz is already in all-black, with gloves. Though I guess, that hood would hide his atrocious haircut…”

“Stop being so mean to Kaz, Jesper,” Matthias mumbles. “Although he does deserve it.”

Kaz downs his entire glass of vodka. When he tops his drink up for the second time—he exed the first refill right in the kitchen—he brings the bottle and some maracuja juice over and refills Jesper’s, too, because Jesper’s been anxiously glancing over at him, every moment he thinks Kaz has turned his head away, since he shot his stupid mouth off and actually, it’s—Kaz isn’t thinking about it now but it just might—maybe it could work—well, he fills up the glass to stop Jesper from worrying himself into yet another mental crisis and also so he can bend over Jesper’s ear and whisper lovingly, “I’m going to make the leather for the suit out of your skin.”

“We should look for an Ed Gein film next!” Jesper laughs, much more brightly than the joke warrants, and Kaz refuses to interpret the look on his face.

By the time Kaz gets back to the Slat, on a day roughly three months later, it’s long past two in the morning. He’s in a foul mood: of course Haskell won’t even reimburse him for the taxi he had to take because he missed the last metro. Of course he just told Kaz to take a night bus. Haskell won’t even apologize for the last minute details he wants included in his casino’s tax returns. The old man’s not even mentally capable of understanding the extra work he caused. Yes, Kaz is good at filing taxes creatively, exactly tailored for the business to pay nothing whatsoever and meticulous enough to never arouse any suspicion, but that takes work. Things have to balance. Haskell thinks Kaz just has to press a button, and that he’s paying Kaz so he doesn’t have to press the button himself, and that it’s only worth it because he doesn’t want to sully his mind with ‘the Spreadsheet Program’. Which is also why he’s loaning Kaz out to a friend of his, which he just remembered to mention today, for that guy’s mattress store slash money laundering business, so that’s even more work for nowhere near enough money.

Sometimes, Kaz amuses himself with the idea of sneaking in small ‘mistakes’. Enough for even the stupidest tax official to unravel the whole sordid scheme and land Haskell in prison for tax fraud, whereupon he’ll also be discovered to be involved with drug smuggling, blackmail, murder, … none of which will ever trace back to Kaz. But the one time he was livid enough to try, nothing happened. He’ll never manage to plunge the true depths of stupidity of an average bureaucrat, apparently, and is thus doomed to failure.

And anyway, it’s good regular money for little work. Usually. He can’t really complain. Especially not to his friends, because three are going legit, Inej will just rant about the uselessness of defrauding the Belastingdienst for a few measly million euros a year when the world’s being set on fire every day, and Jesper’ll tell him to quit, again, because they live in a squat after all. It’s not like they’re paying rent. Jesper’s never heard of forethought, or gratitude. He doesn’t know how many of his bills Kaz has paid off.

Kaz’s leg aches after the climb to the third story. Two more to go. As usual, right at this point he remembers the joke Jesper made eight months ago about fooling someone into installing a stair lift, and as usual, he dismisses it in disgust after two more steps. Stomps harder on the next flight of stairs, with grim satisfaction at the shooting pains in his knee. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need to move to a house with a working lift, and he doesn’t need a stair lift, either. Fuck you, Jesper. I’m the actual functional adult with a job in this household. I don’t need a stair lift.

That’s what he would throw at Jesper’s head, but it’s nearly three o’clock, and Jesper’s probably out. Over at Wylan’s, if he knows what’s good for him, but given how evasive he’s been all week, how manic… Inej’s still camping high up in some forest to save the frogs or something, but no news there is supposed to be good news. If the cops had chucked her off a tree house, it would have been on tv. About everything else, he can worry after he’s slept.

He doesn’t bother with the lights in his room. The streetlight coming in through his open curtains is more than enough, and anyway, he found the empty tenement he turned into the Slat five years ago, fully moved down here three years ago when he met Jesper, and he knows every single thing in his room by heart. The antique dresser he made Jesper and Matthias carry up with the threat of cutting off a finger for every scratch it received is next to the door, the place where he leaves his gloves and wallet and phone and cane. The coat rack beside it, where the hangers for his suit are, then the hamper, and at the foot of his bed the long black linen nightgown that Jesper’s never, ever allowed to see, and—

There’s a black shape on top of his bedcovers, Kaz realizes when he’s pulled on his nightgown.

Kaz takes his cane back. He hasn’t made any new enemies recently as far as he’s aware—none who know his name—but he was careless, brutal, desperate when he was a lone kid getting by on the streets, and those victims had gangs, families, business partners. Just because no-one’s ever traced little Kazzie the bastard rabid dog back to the Slat-that-wasn’t-then doesn’t mean a thing. The fact that the friends he started collecting press-ganged him into doing more behind-the-scenes embezzlement and fewer turf wars because ‘they’re watching us, they have all our faces and fingers and DNA on file and cameras everywhere and did you hear about that informer having kids with the activist he spied on?’ or the more pragmatic, ‘If you don’t stop fucking up your leg on purpose I’m going to send you to a kink party you fucking masochist’…

None of it means safety, not really, and Kaz is glad he’s alone now. They’ve all moved on, and even Jes… well, if he’d been here tonight then the whole squat would be trashed because Jesper doesn’t come quietly. And now, if he comes back to find Kaz gone or his throat slit… Jesper’s going to fucking collapse. He’s been one phone call away from going hysteric all week. Who knows, though—he has Wylan now, and maybe it’ll be the push he needed, the path none of them could ever find, to get his life back on a solid track.

All of that is presupposing that Kaz loses, of course.

And he does not intend to.

The weird black ninja on Kaz’ bed hasn’t reacted yet. They’re curled into a foetal position and they’re snuffling, quietly, because they’re asleep.

Not even assassins dressed up as b movie henchmen expect the toll taken by Per Haskell’s technical naïveté and utter disrespect for Kaz’ work-life balance, apparently. He got back home so late he missed his own murder. Well, then. Kaz hasn’t tortured anyone in two years and he may be out of practice, but the films he’s been forced to watch in the meantime have, if anything, made him more creative. He’ll teach them not to underestimate the brutality of Kaz Brekker, even when he’s moved up a few rungs in the ladder of Amsterdam’s underworld and landed a desk job.

He’ll—but Kaz hasn’t had to stalk silently towards his prey in two years, either. He’s underestimated the extent to which his lame leg’s gotten worse.

Also, someone’s pulled a box out from under his bed.

Kaz stumbles, and in the split-second before he catches himself on the edge of the mattress he wonders—will they have a gun? I can still bash them in the head before they fire, I haven’t gone that soft—and then the would-be assassin stretches out their lanky body as they wake up.

With their arms raised over their head, Kaz can see the bright white light of the street lanterns outside reflect off the gleaming black PVC fabric they’re wearing. Sleek and skin-tight, no ornamentation except a few steel buttons glinting at the crotch, and a full-cover leather hood over their face adorned with one-euro-sized rivets at the jaw, the forehead, the bridge of the nose, the large buckle around the neck. More buckles, at the back of the head and hanging off the right side at eye-height. The open silver zipper at the mouth reflects the streetlight, too, as does the padlock that hangs off it.

Oh no. Kaz knows that mask. Not even shoving it all the way back to the furthest corner under his bed allowed him to forget the way it looks.

Oh no.

Jesper yawns loudly. “Morning, boss. Evening. One of those. I thought you were finishing work early?”

“Haskell had some last-minute revisions to his tax returns.” Kaz sighs. “Don’t cook tomorrow. I’ll be out late for the whole next week—don’t expect me before three am. New client. I need to create a whole year’s documentations from scratch.”

“Just fuck him over, boss. He doesn’t appreciate you, and you don’t need the money. We live in a fucking squat.”

Sweet, financially illiterate nuisance Jesper, who probably doesn’t even know what that awful mistake he’s dressed in right now cost. The thing he’s dressed in. Which was hidden under Kaz’ bed. In Kaz’ room. Which they are inside right now. “You broke into my room,” Kaz rasps. “Again.”

“You know, Kaz,” Jesper replies with poorly feigned innocence, ”this thing is a little big for you. Fits me pretty well, though.”

“I told you I don’t keep cash under my bed. I told you that, the last time you tried to steal from me to pay off your gambling debts. I like my room organized as it is, and so I don’t keep any money here. Not under the bed, not in the wardrobe. And you won’t find any of my actual caches, because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“You’ve stolen from me before. Remember last year? Remember you made Inej cry? I though you were clean. I thought you promised Wylan, when you asked him out, that you were done gambling. Maybe we all had too much trust in you.”

Jesper pulls his PVC-clad shoulders up to his en-leathered ears: a ridiculous sight, and Kaz doesn’t know what’s worse. That a bondage sex slave could actually look this dejected and humiliated and alone, or that Jesper does. He’s almost ready to call off the assault. It took a while to figure out, but as usual Inej was probably right, because she’s been researching and discussing the mental health industrial complex in general, and the traumatizing nature of modern life, with her comrades. Even though Kaz is neither the kind of person to touch people with kid gloves, and nor does he like thinking of Jesper as someone who needs that kind of handling—when Jesper’s in a shame spiral this deep then any criticism will drive him even deeper into the arms of the next casino. So the adrenaline and dopamine can wipe out everything else, or to feed his self-loathing even more by being exactly the person he’s terrified people think he is—Jes couldn’t quite explain it himself during the Intervention, except that everything is too much sometimes, even more too much and faster than usual.

He’s a pitiful creature. Kaz almost has pity. Then, though—

“It’s not working, boss. I know why you’re reminding me I fucking relapsed, again, and tried to steal from my best friend, again, and that I’m going to beg you to lie to Wy, again, but I still haven’t forgotten I’m wearing a bondage suit that you’ve been keeping under your bed for—two months now, is it?”

It’s just one month, actually. The manufacture and shipping took six whole weeks.

Two can play that game. Kaz might be very slightly embarrassed, but Jesper’s relapsed into the combination of addiction, theft and deceit that destroyed his life three years ago, and nearly did so again, two-and-a-half years ago and one year ago. “Careful. I haven’t even yet agreed to lie to Wylan, Jesper. About your problem. That you promised you’d tell him about.”

“Also, I notice it fits me, not Inej. Not Nina. Not Matthias. Not even Haskell, I bet. Me. Almost like it was made for me.”

Kaz ignores his insinuations. The answer’s obvious, anyway: yes, he did take clothes from the main washing pile in Jesper’s room and measured them. Yes, he used the measurements when he ordered a bondage suit. Yes, that’s creepy. Yes, a decent person would have asked. No, he’s not sorry. Jesper knew who Kaz was when he moved in with him. And it’s not like Kaz is the one who’s really at fault here. If Jesper just stopped gambling, he’d never have found out.

“Even attempted theft is illegal, Jesper. Completed robbery is worse. I cover my tracks, but you… you should be careful what you say now. They’re still looking for whoever robbed that jeweller last year.”

“Inej’s gonna cut off your head if you try. It’s like you never read her hoodies. All cats are beautiful, et cetera, Kaz. Thirteen-twelve. Keep up.”

Sometimes, the only thing that keeps Kaz from tossing Jesper out of the Slat is that Inej hates landlords and landlord-adjacents just as much as the pigs. If only he’d known back when he let the drunk penniless fancy uni boy who jumped into a fight to defend Kaz from some thugs—a fight Kaz would have won regardless—if only he’d known, before he let Jesper crash on his floor for a night or two, where all of this would end. “I’ll never mention anything about tonight again if you don’t either. Forget it. It was a bad idea. A failed plan. That’s all.”

“Without even trying it?”

“I will zip your mouth shut,” Kaz rasps. “I’ll lock it. I’ll throw the key into the harbour. Fuck you.”

Jesper, though, somehow got even mouthier when he put the bondage suit on. Less respectful. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “Come on, Kaz,” he wheedles. “I put it on, right? So I’m fine with it, if you’re worried. Aren’t you curious? If our places had been reversed—well, if you’d found it in my room you’d have murdered me, so we’re not exactly identical, but still. Come on, sit down next to me. This is—PVC right? Good job choosing me. Inej would hate it. So much plastic.”

“It’s less like skin than leather.”

“Not complaining, Kaz. I have some juice with a straw over there to keep me hydrated in case I sweat like a pig, but I haven’t, yet. I can probably camp out in this for a few more hours.” He tries a patented Jesper I’m flirting in an over the top way to make you laugh which is my flirting style for when I’m genuinely worried about the reaction because this way I can pass off exasperation and mockery as the response I intended look, probably with fluttering eyes, but since Kaz can barely make them out through those open zippers and the rest of his face is a complete mystery, it falls flat. It looks ridiculous, though, so it also works, and Jesper has the nerve of complaining about Kaz’ eight-dimensional chess plans. He’s worse. He’s worse, and animated by Jesper’s ridiculous, familiar movements the bondage suit doesn’t look like a pathetic attempt anymore. Not like the desperation of an emotional cripple. It just looks like Jesper, with an extra layer on his skin. Jesper, probably making a duckface, purring, “Don’t you think I’m sexy?”

Kaz looks away. “Are you serious right now?”

“Of course,” Jesper replies instantly, as if there was never any reason to doubt him. As if he doesn’t blame Kaz for doubting, simultaneously. As if Kaz is allowed to try. To fail. To fuck up, risk hurting him. There is a reason why Kaz never even considered someone else for the suit. “Come on, get on the bed.”

“We have to talk with Inej first. And with Wylan.”

“One-track mind,” Jesper replies, and just like that Kaz is ready to murder him again. “We’re not fucking. We’re not doing more than normal, except maybe touch. We don’t even know yet whether this helps you. I’m not risking it. We’ll just try touching, and if you think it’s triggering, we stop. We’ve got all the time in the world to work up to more. Until this city sinks into the ocean and the grid collapses from heat, which might be tomorrow, so. Or the fascists win.”

“You’ve been listening to Inej.”

“I do try to keep up.”

“Well, stop. Or listen more carefully, until the end, when she gets to the doomerism is the opiate of the masses part.”

“Just get on the bed, Kaz.”

Kaz puts his bent good knee onto the mattress and pulls himself over to Jesper. The fabric of his linen smock rubs against his heated skin: not like corpses, not like that, not like Jordie and he won’t even think about him or this will be over but—it just feels like his own familiar coarse age-softened nightgown that Jesper hasn’t even made fun of yet, his thin nightgown that in a second will be one of only two layers between him and Jesper.

He rolls over so he can sit down next to Jesper, at first. Daringly, he leans an arm against his best—well, they’ll figure that out later.

“Okay?” Jesper asks. He has to crane his head a lot to look through the thin eye slits of his bondage mask at Kaz’ face, and even then he’s probably mostly seeing the gleaming teeth of the eyehole zippers. And still he leans forward forty-five degrees and twists his torso and neck so he can look up into Kaz’ face, carefully keeping the arm that’s touching Kaz as motionless as possible, because he’s being careful with Kaz. Kaz has told him a thousand times he hates being coddled. He’s not a poor little abused dog, he’s a vicious murderer who destroyed his leg and his ability to be close to people while he was murdering, that’s all he ever told Jesper. That lie. And yet—even if he’s only fooling himself because this scene is so patently ridiculous, and the psych ward he got sent to once for the crime of rough sleeping while underage would stamp every single thing about what they’re doing as deeply unhealthy, and he can’t see Jesper’s soft concerned expression under the hood… Whatever it is, Kaz feels warm all over. He feels good. Safe.

Jesper can tell, apparently. “Want to touch my chest? Or climb into my lap?”

Kaz moves over, carefully smoothing down his nightgown before he sits down on Jesper, angled so he can lean with his left arm pressed against Jesper’s chest. It’s safer, somehow, than giving him the back, but perhaps someday…

Jesper loosely wraps his arms around Kaz. They’re just there, barely touching, the hands lax on top of Kaz’ right knee. You can leave at any time, they say, I’ll let go as soon as you’re uncomfortable, and Kaz would have known that regardless. Jesper’s never usually this still, unless he’s lost in concentration: and Kaz, who’s seen how gambling can destroy someone’s life, how it is currently destroying someone’s life, would still bet everything he has ever owned that Jesper’s concentrating on every single aspect of Kaz’ body language right now.

It’s not necessary, though. Those hands are gleaming black PVC. They don’t look or feel anything like Kaz’ memories.

He drops his own naked right hand onto Jesper’s gloved one. Joins them. Anchors Jesper. “How much do you owe this time, Jes?”

A beat. Jesper’s face drops down towards Kaz’ lap. Trying to hide his shame, and he’s forgotten that he’s wearing a full bondage mask, that Kaz can barely make out his eyes through the slits of the zippers. If he’s trying to deny everything, Kaz will just beat it out of him. He’s done it before. A year ago, when it was bad, but Jesper promised he got it under control. But Jesper’s promises were never worth much, not for this. If they were, they’d never have met.

“Four grand.”

“To?”

“Tom Geels. One of Big Bol’s old friends—”

“So he put you up to—”

“I was already playing when he walked up to me, Kaz,” Jesper grinds out. Aware that he could save himself from at least a little of Kaz’ disappointment by casting Bollinger as the tempter. Simultaneously aware that Kaz promised to feed Bollinger to a marine propeller last year if he ever took Jesper gambling again. Noble, to try and save Bollinger’s life—or to save Kaz from committing another murder—not that either of them deserves his loyalty. “I’ll pay you back, Kaz. I’ll have the money. Give me—give me half a year, Da’s still sending me—sending me rent money, Christ, he’s—I’ll save it. No, you’ll get it straight as soon as I get it, and in six months, you’re paid back in full. I promise.”

“We’ll figure it out. I have some jobs I could use you on. Nothing big. Intimidation, mostly. Some breaking, some entering. Boring stuff, not even worth mentioning to Wylan I should think.”

“Thank you.” Jesper’s forgotten all his restraint. He’s kissing Kaz’ forehead, or rather kissing the inside of his mask that’s pressed against Kaz’ forehead. He��s wrapped Kaz tightly in his long bondage arms too, painfully twisting Kaz’ shoulder and elbow and wrist because Kaz is still holding onto his hand. It’s that welcome pain, and the texture of the bondage suit that Kaz still isn’t completely used to, that keeps him from breaking Jesper’s nose. Keeps him—he isn’t back in the North Sea. He isn’t with Jordie. He should be, but he isn’t, and even if it comes…

Inej taught him about grounding. None of them trust the system as far as they can throw it, so she didn’t send him to a shrink when they started dating, unlike he feared, but—she said they helped her, those grounding exercises she found on the internet, and so Kaz has been diligently practicing breathing techniques and focusing his awareness on details of the present moment. Five things he can see: well, it’s dark, but the way what little streetlight gets through reflects off the folds of the suit on Jesper’s bowed stomach is quite interesting. His own knees. His hand, still clutching Jesper’s. The cane, on the floor. The floor. Five things he can hear: early morning traffic, Jesper’s breath, Jesper trying not to sob out loud in relief or shame or a mixture of both, the rustling of fabric, the squeaking of fabric. Five things he can feel: The old ache of his leg, always. Jesper’s hand. Jesper’s thighs. The hard buttons at the flap over Jesper’s crotch, digging into his side.

Somehow, Jesper’s noticed his shift in focus. At least he’s stopped crying now. “You know, you could have just asked how big I am if you wanted a suit with a dick pouch,” he teases in a voice that almost manages to sound happy. “I wouldn’t even have been suspicious.”

“Just because you have no boundaries, Jes, doesn’t mean I have to sink down to meet you at your level.”

Jesper takes a big breath. To forestall the whole Who bought this bondage suit argument Kaz elbows him in the stomach, hard. Once Jesper’s done coughing—a wriggling movement against Kaz’ side that he’s never even felt before—he mumbles something else, though. “I texted Da my new number. He called last week. Wanted to know how I was doing,” and oh. That makes sense. That’s what did it. “Apparently I’m graduating in seven months, according to that fake schedule you made me so I could keep my lies straight. He wants to come to the graduation. He asked me whether I have a job lined up.”

“I could hire somebody to fake you a degree,” Kaz offers. This should be Inej’s job. She shouldn’t be off somewhere, saving grasshoppers. She should be here. She’s the one who tried to talk Jesper into coming clean to his father, last year. All Kaz knows, all he has ever done, is to keep digging, and it’s worked for him. So far. “It’s all the rage now I hear. Cheap, too. No-one will find out. Just don’t become a politician in Germany.”

Jesper sighs. The air kisses the back of Kaz’ neck. “I don’t even care anymore. I could have a degree, or not, it all doesn’t matter. Universities are a scam to regulate economic class relations anyway. I don’t know that I can keep lying forever, or get a job, just so I don’t have to tell Da I betrayed him. Because nothing matters anyway. We’re collectively throwing the future down the drain. It’s not like anyone needs another mechanical engineer when we hit four degrees. I don’t know what we need. I just know everything I know is pointless.”

“I’m sure Inej can hook you up, if you want to blow up a coal power plant.”

“But what about you, then? What would you do?”

“I could have you kidnapped,” Kaz says. That’s not what Jesper meant. Kaz refuses to think about what Jesper meant. “Fake your death. Colm will be so relieved when they find you that he won’t even care you failed all your studies so you could become a live-in human blow-up doll.”

“That’ll only keep Da happy for a year at most and you know it.”

“Well, then Colm’s just going to have to get used to it. Get used to you, like we did. Real, annoying, good-for-nothing directionless screw-up Jesper.”

Jesper rubs his leathered cheek against the crown of Kaz’ head. “Fuck you. Thanks.”

Kaz runs his fingers over the squeaky PVC on Jesper’s forearms, steeling himself before he whispers idly against Jesper’s neck, “If Inej’s right about the warming and the sea level over the next decades, it won’t just be refugees from the south we’re letting drown, people it’s easy to lock out. Maybe you’re right about the Doggerland thing, and we all get flooded.” He swallows. The words are high up in his throat, trying to spew out. “Then it won’t just be one stupid child with a stupid family going out boating in the North Sea when there’s a storm coming. Not just that one kid thrown out of a sinking boat nearly drowning and clinging to his brother’s corpse. Your blow-up doll skills will be in high demand if everyone else gets triggered by skin contact too.”

Jesper, miraculously, reveals a talent Kaz didn’t even know he possessed: he shuts up. He ghosts his gloved hands over Kaz’ shoulders, and then he starts carding his fingers through Kaz’ hair. Kaz can feel the static electricity building up, the crackles and the safety, and then he realizes his eyes have drifted shut. He realizes he doesn’t know how long Jesper’s been petting him.

“Take off your hood,” he mumbles.

“Kaz?”

“Take it off. Scuttle over so your head’s on the pillow.”

Jesper obeys, like Kaz always knew he would. He looks up at Kaz with something that might be confusion but might also be—trust and deep joy and more, something Kaz can’t quite admit anymore now he’s in his bed, and Kaz puts his head down on his chest. His legs will still fit, and this way, he has the squeaky PVC right where he needs it. Squeaky, rhythmically rising warm dry plastic under him. The exact opposite of a waterlogged corpse.

“I don’t have time to call you an ambulance when you get into a bondage suit erotic asphyxiation incident, just so you know. I have a full schedule for today, remember. I’ll be at Haskell’s until after midnight. I have to break Bollinger’s thumbs. My alarm is at seven. Turn it off and I’ll send you to Colm in bite-sized pieces,” Kaz rasps, and then, with a movement that no-one would call timid if they wanted to keep their tongue attached, wraps his arms around Jesper. “You’ve kept me awake for two hours, so be a good pillow. If I kick you off the bed while I’m dozing, remember. This is your fault.”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #kaz x jesper #dimtraces makes things #shadow and bone #shadow & bone

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 years ago

Text

“The Harshest Future We Could Have Imagined” - Lumity Future AU Fanfic Part 1

This is set about five years in the future after “Agony of a Witch.” Luz returned home through a broken portal and couldn’t return, but in four years, without the portal being fixed, Amity and the others had to focus on their lives in the present, including the rebellion they started. Now, what will happen when Luz returns to the war-torn world she used to love?

(Link to Ao3 --- https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305051/chapters/69356406)

----

“You really have to go?”

“I do.”

Luz squeezed Amity’s hands, standing before the portal with her backpack and her cloak. Amity kept her eyes down. She struggled to fight back tears, clutching Luz’s hands like a lifeline. They knew this was going to happen. Both had dreaded it all summer, ever since Luz revealed her exact situation to her friends. Willow and Gus already composed themselves - well, Gus was attempting to - and Eda and King were trying and failing not to cry downstairs. Lilith was somewhere rolling her eyes and hiding her emotions. The twins waited outside to bring Amity home once all their goodbyes were said.

Amity glanced at the fractured portal. After finding that Emperor Belos had managed to put it back together, yet another espionage mission was mounted to steal it back. Now, Luz could get back, but she only had this one chance. It killed Luz, having to leave but knowing he was still in power. Especially with Eda and Lilith rendered magicless after the failed petrification… nothing was certain now. Nothing but the fact that Luz had to leave.

Reading Amity’s mind, Luz touched her cheek and turned her head away from the portal. “Amity, I’m going to come back,” she said. “I promise I will.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I know that I will, though. I got here before, right? I can do it again.”

“When the portal worked. What if we can’t put it back together? What if there’s no way to fix it, w-what if Belos gets it again, what if-”

“Hey, don’t think about that.” Luz pulled her in, wrapping her arms tight around her. Amity buried her face against the crook of Luz’s neck. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry, okay? You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” She pulled back and pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t go soft on me just yet, Blight.”

Amity giggled through her tears. “In your dreams.”

“Look after this place for me, okay?”

“I will.”

She cupped the witch’s cheek. “And Ami?”

Amity blushed at the nickname. “Y-Yeah?”

“Don’t forget me.”

“Never.”

Luz planted a quick kiss on Amity’s cheek and pulled her into a tight hug. Amity held onto her hand as long as she could as she turned to the portal. Hiding her tears, Luz waved and flashed one last bright smile over her shoulder. She disappeared through the wall of light.

The shaking portal collapsed into a pile of smoldering pieces. Amity collapsed in a heap of silenced sobs.

****

Amity took a deep breath as she approached the Owl House. Hooty, distracted by a bug, perked up when he spotted her.

“Hoot! Hi, angry green haired friend! What’s that? Cupcakes? I looooove cupcakes! Hoot!”

Amity bared her fangs. “Don’t touch me, bird tube!”

“Alright! Hoot!”

“Sorry. Here, that one’s for you.” Amity tossed the treat in the air and cringed when Hooty swallowed it whole. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, you can! Wait, was the cupcake a bribe?”

“It’s a peace offering.”

“Okay!”

The door swung open. Eda and Lilith sat at the kitchen table, chatting idly, while King slept curled into a ball on the couch. They paused and looked up when she took a step inside. She swallowed her fear and waved.

“Hi, Eda. Ms. Clawthorne.” The latter greeting was delivered with just a twinge of venom. After hearing about how Eda was captured, about what happened to Luz, Amity still harbored a touch of resentment, even if everyone else seemed to have forgiven it. “Is it alright if I come in?”

“Sure, kid,” Eda said. Any hatred towards the Blights as a whole had been forgiven in Amity’s case. Amity attributed that to Eda’s constant subtle teasing about how she acted around Luz. Although now it just sounded like pity in her voice.

Amity stood beside Eda and set a pack of apple blood boxes on the table next to her.

Eda frowned. “How did you get your hands on this?”

“Emira.”

“She’s one of the twins I almost died with, right? The smart one?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Well, thanks, kid.”

“You’re welcome. Luz mentioned it.”

Eda nodded and turned aside. Amity swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped over to the couch, kneeling beside King. She gently shook him until he woke with a quiet, “Weh?”

“Hi, King.”

The little demon scowled. “Hello, offering killer.”

“About that.” Amity set the cupcake on the couch in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

He sat up, inspecting the offering. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What? Nothing. It’s to make up for your cupcake I squished. I’m sorry.”

King tilted his head. He looked between Amity and the cupcake for a minute before pulling the sweet closer to him. “Offering accepted. I retract any curses I laid on you.”

“I, uh, thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Eda beckoned to Amity as she stood. “C’mere, kid. Come sit. Now, not that I’m complaining, but I have to ask. What’s up with all this.”

Amity took the offered seat and bowed her head. “Luz. She… she wanted me to stick around. She told me to before she left, so I figured it would be good to at least try to make up for what I’ve done. You are her family, after all.”

Eda sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Right. That’s right. Well, look, you don’t have anything to make up for anymore. You and the other two troublemakers are always welcome here. I know Luz will want to see you all when she gets back.”

“Do you think she will come back?”

“Of course. I mean hey, it’s already been what, a month? And we’ve already got all the books possible on fixing the old thing.”

“Four weeks, two days, and five hours,” Lilith interrupted. Amity and Eda stared at her. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been keeping track.”

Eda smirked and squeezed her sister’s hand. She turned back to Amity, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Amity flinched beneath the gentle pat. Eda paused, just long enough for Amity to relax, and tried again. This time, Amity just sighed as Eda rubbed her back.

“She’ll come back. It’s Luz, after all. Knowing that kid, she’s already got a new portal halfway finished in the human world.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

****

“Absolutely not!”

“But Mom, I-”

“Amity, that is enough!” Odalia Blight slammed her hands down on her desk, looming over her youngest daughter standing across from her. “You are forbidden from returning to that den of criminal activity ever again. Do you understand me? If I ever hear about you so much as heading in that direction again, you will be sorry. Titan, I should have known this would happen after that fiasco at the petrification. That Clawthorne woman never should have been in the Emperor’s coven to begin with, considering her criminal sister.”

“Eda isn’t a criminal! Okay, well, technically, but not for any good reasons! And Lilith isn’t bad either, not anymore. She’s better than she was when you approved of her!”

Odalia scoffed. “Please. I know what is best for you, young lady, and I have made my decision. You are not to return to that place ever again or associate with anyone connected to it, including that half witch and the reporter’s runt.”

“But Luz-”

“Oh, the human! That’s where this began! I should have put a stop to this behavior as soon as Boscha’s parents told me you were hanging around her. This is what is best for you.”

“No it’s not!” Amity hollered. Odalia froze at the outburst. “Luz is my best friend and I’m not going to let you talk about her like she’s nothing! Not her, not Willow, and not Gus! They are better than anyone you ever picked for me and care about me more than you ever did.”

“You will do what I say! I am your mother!”

“I want what is best for you!” Odalia protested.

“You want a perfect daughter as head of the Emperor’s coven,” Amity retorted. “I’m not abandoning them like I already abandoned Willow. And I’m not abandoning the Owl House, either. You can’t make me.”

“I don’t care!”

Amity regretted the words the moment they left her tongue.

Odalia froze. Her face went deadly cold, eyes like ice as she leveled a vicious glare at her daughter. Amity shrunk.

“You don’t care that I’m your mother?”

“I-I… I didn’t mean…”

“Hmph. Fine. Then our name shouldn’t matter to you. If you are going to keep associating with the Clawthornes, you can take their name instead. Anything but Blight.”

“What?”

“Get out of this house, Amity.”

“Mom!”

“Get. Out.”

Amity took a step back. Tears burned her eyes. She clenched her fists and scowled.

“Fine.”

She spun on her heel and marched out. Flying to her room, she slammed the door behind her and grabbed a bag. She shoved a few regular outfits inside, along with her books, her school uniform, and her box of keepsakes with her Grom tiara in it. She shouldered the pack and bolted out of the house.

The twins intercepted her before she reached the door. Their ever present smiles disappeared when they saw her face, streaked with tears.

“Mittens, what’s wrong?” Emira asked.

“Ask Mom.” Amity shoved past them.

“Wha- Amity, wait, where are you going?”

“The Owl House!”

The massive doors of Blight Manor slammed shut behind her.

Casting a light spell, she ran through the Isles all the way to the Owl House. She never stopped or looked back, even as hot tears poured down her cheeks. When she reached her destination, Hooty let her in without so much as a hoot.

Eda gave her just a passing glance as first when she marched in, then whipped her head around when Amity’s appearance registered. Amity stood in the doorway, shaking and panting, clutching her pack to her chest. She scrubbed at her face and scrambled to regain some of her composure.

“Eda, Lilith, I, um… C-Can I…?”

“Kid, what happened?” Eda asked.

Amity shook her head. “My mom kicked me out. She told me I had to stop coming here and said I had to do what she said because she’s my mother and I told her I didn’t care so she kicked me out. I just… Can I stay here? Please? I-I don’t have anywhere else to go right now.”

“Of course. Come on, you’ll stay in Luz’s old room. Lilith, help me get her set up.”

That night, Amity cried herself to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor, clutching her pillow and cursing all the years she spent in that controlling hell already.

The next day, the twins came by with the rest of her belongings, most of them dirty and broken.

“She threw them out the window?” she asked when they told her what happened.

“Well, she had the servants do it for the most part, but yes,” Edric replied. “Look, Amity, if you just apologize-”

“No,” Amity snapped. “I’m not apologizing to her. I’m staying here.”

Emira put a hand on her twin’s shoulder. “Ed, drop it. Look, Mittens, we’re here if you need us, okay? We’ll see you at school.”

The two hugged their baby sister and waved to Eda and Lilith sitting in the living room. Amity watched them disappear down the trail before shutting the door silently. She leaned her head against the wood for a quick moment before straightening.

“You okay, kid?” Eda asked.

“I’m fine.”

The next morning, Amity approached Lilith with a pair of clippers in hand. “Lilith?”

“Yes, Amity?”

“You do your own hair, right?”

“I dye it on occasion, when the orange roots start to become noticeable.”

“Will you help me cut my hair, please?”

“Of course.” Lilith closed her book and stood. “How did you want to cut it?”

“Cut off all the green dye.”

“Are you sure? That would make your hair quite short.”

“I’m sure. I just want it gone. I’m not going to let anyone force me to dye my hair again.”

Lilith frowned. “Your mother-”

“Please help me cut it.”

“Alright. Come here.”

****

“Okay, these are the outposts we know of so far.”

Gus spread a map over a rickety table. Orbs of light hovered in the tunnel above them, illuminating the little meeting place dug beneath Hexside. Willow and Amity knelt on either side of him and watched as he gestured to little markers on the creased parchment. Emira stood behind Gus, watching over his shoulder with Viney and the rest of the detention kids.

“Belos has squads of guards here, here, and here, and then multiple roving patrols through the marketplace and around Hexside. As long as we stay in the tunnels for meetings, we should be fine.”

Amity idly ran her hand over the short sides of her undercut, with the long part on top pulled into her normal short ponytail. With Lilith’s help over two years ago, she cut out all the green dye and never touched it with a drop of pigment afterwards.

After the meeting, the group said their goodbyes and took off down different tunnels of Gus’s making. Willow and Emira hung around with Amity as she extinguished the light orbs.

“Has Eda made any progress on the portal?” Willow asked after a moment of silence.

Amity sighed. “No. Nothing. We haven’t even gotten a flicker from it. I…” She shook her head and extinguished another light, trying not to think about the missing human. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“How long has it been?”

“Too long.”

Willow nodded and touched Amity’s hand. “They’ll find a way to fix it.”

“I hope.”

Willow took off, leaving Amity alone with her sister. Emira leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. Amity stopped and turned to her sister.

“Have you heard anything from Edric?” the elder asked.

“Nothing. Has he been talking to you?”

“Not a word. He hasn’t told Mother and Father, I know that, but he stopped talking to me as soon as he learned about this. He doesn’t even play pranks with me anymore.”

Amity scoffed. “He’s trying to become their favorite child.”

“I think he is, at this point.”

“Right.” She held a light orb between her hands. “I heard they made Dad the leader of the emperor’s coven.”

“They did. It’s no wonder Edric is trying to get in so badly. I still can’t believe he’s doing all this.”

“Me neither. Look, I have to get back to the Owl House and keep helping Eda with the portal.”

Emira bowed her head with a tight lipped grimace, watching Amity with pity in her eyes. “Mittens, do you really think you’re going to get her back?”

“I know I will!” Amity snapped, but the anger faded quickly. “She promised she would come back.”

“Not all promises can be kept.”

“I know that, but we’re going to find a way. We have to.”

“Okay.” Emira hugged her sister and kissed the top of her head, still so much taller than her even after the years that had passed. “You’ll figure this out, Mittens. They can fix it.”

Amity just nodded and hugged her sister tighter.

****

Edric stood on the edge of a crumbling roof. Fires raged around him in the burning marketplace, littered with the bodies of fallen Emperor’s coven soldiers and wounded rebellion fighters fleeing the scene. His white cloak was stained red, and his sharp beaked mask hung around his neck. He leaned heavily on his staff.

In the street below, Amity wielded her own staff with its snarling tiger palisman. She growled at her brother while her friends fell into line behind her. Emira stood at her side, watching Edric not with anger, but heartbreak in her eyes.

“Ed, please!” she called. “This isn’t you!”

“Enough, Emira!” he roared. “I’m done being the stupid twin. Now it’s time for me to do what you and Amity failed to. I’m going to lead the Emperor’s coven after Dad and my career is going to start with ending your stupid rebellion!”

“You know Belos is wrong!” Amity protested. “This isn’t going to end how you want, Edric. Please just come with us.”

“Never!”

Amity shook the tears from her eyes and cast a spell circle. “Fine.”

A pink flame lit in her hand. Emira grabbed her arm.

“Mittens, no!”

“If he’s not going to join us, he’s against us! Belos is going to fall, Edric. Belos, the coven system, all of it. Including you.”

“Grow up, Amity. It’s time all three of us started acting like Blights. If you two won’t, I will.” Edric lifted his head. “Soldiers, retreat!”

Amity watched her brother flee with the rest of the soldiers. She gripped her staff and turned to Willow and Gus and the others standing behind her. “Everyone out of here!” she ordered. “Before they send reinforcements back. At least we know our enemy now.”

“Our brother,” Emira said quietly.

“Our enemy,” Amity repeated. “Willow, Gus, let’s go.”

The pair followed Amity back to the Owl House. They walked in silence, all three contemplating the day’s battle and the new development. There were suspicions of Edric’s involvement, but they hadn’t known the extent. And the fact that he was leading a command…

Amity, although hiding it beneath her rage, wanted to weep and curse at the sky. Her own brother! After all those years of him and Emira goofing off, never conforming to their parents’ expectation, leaving all the vicariously realized dreams to fall upon Amity, she never could have imagined him becoming so fed up with Emira’s jesting that he would turn his back on the both of them. She cursed under her breath thinking about it and forced the thoughts from her head. She couldn’t afford getting stuck in her thoughts now. She had the rebellion to think about, the rebellion that Willow founded and the two of them now led together. The rebellion, keeping the Owl House hidden, fixing the portal…

Titan, she couldn’t even afford to think about the portal anymore. Four years passed without anything working, and then the rebellion started with Willow’s attempted assassination of Belos a year ago.

Amity glanced at Willow beside her. A long scar wrapped around her eye from her forehead down to her jaw. She cut her hair short and wild to display it with pride. They all bore scars now, but Willow’s scarred face had become a symbol of the rebellion with her wanted poster plastered all over the Isles. Amity, although a leader herself, didn’t envy the responsibility Willow gained. Her speech all those years ago is what sowed the seeds, after all.

Hooty greeted them when they returned and flung the door open. Amity sighed and rubbed her eyes as they stepped inside, keeping her head down. She hadn’t noticed Willow and Gus stopping in their tracks by the door.

“Eda, Lilith, we found the new commander Belos has,” she said.

“Amity,” Eda said, rising from her seat. “Look up.”

She did.

Standing across from her was a tall girl with rich dark skin and fluffy brown hair pushed out of her face. Wide, fiery brown eyes locked with her golden stare. She was taller now, finally overtaking Amity, and her weak nerd arms had developed built and defined muscles. Her gently rounded ears were pierced with multiple golden rings. Despite everything, her bright smile was still the same, and it still sent Amity’s heart racing.

Amity sucked in a sharp breath.

“Luz?”

The girl grinned.

“Hey, Amity.”

57 notes · View notes

gravelyhumerus · 4 years ago

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 4

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily’s alarm wakes JJ up.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Jennifer Jareau awoke in her bed to the sound of her alarm. She groaned as her body refused to cooperate, with the fog of sleep clouding her brain and the desire to just roll over and sleep in sounding very appealing.

It was such a late night last night with Emily and JJ had already set her alarm to nine thirty, giving her less time in the morning to get to her eleven am class than she would normally like. JJ liked eating breakfast, and with being an athlete, her body needed as much fuel as she could get.

She rolled over, slamming her hand onto her phone, attempting to turn off the beeping. It wasn’t working, forcing JJ to open her eyes against the sunlight. She grabbed her phone, unplugged it, and stared at the blank screen before realizing that it was only eight and her alarm wasn’t set for another hour.

JJ frowned, realizing that what she was hearing wasn’t her alarm, nor was it Penelope Garcia’s—her roommate who had a cheery jingle as an alarm—either. It must be coming from another room.

She looked over to the other side of the room where Penelope was sleeping peacefully, on her side with her chest slowing rising and falling. Lucky, JJ thought. Penelope, unlike JJ, hadn’t been rudely awoken by someone else’s alarm.

JJ pulled her pillow over her head, rolled over, and tried to fall back asleep. She was desperate to catch that extra hour of sleep.

She sighed, tried to relax and fall back into her slumber, but the blaring sound continued, and continued, without fail. Whoever was responsible for that god-awful noise apparently was not waking up.

JJ sat up, tossing her pillow aside. Quietly, despite her frustration, she threw back her comforter and blanket, slipped into her fuzzy slippers and walked to their door, peering into the hall.

She was wearing her pink pj bottoms and a grey cotton t-shirt from a soccer camp she went to in high school, and the cool air after the warmth of her bed made her shiver. Their dorm was either too hot, or too cold most days, never really reaching a comfortable living temperature.

Looking left and right, JJ tried to narrow down the sound of the incessant alarm. She held her breath for a moment, listening hard.

The beeping was coming from straight ahead. She looked at the door, staring it down, begging the other girl to simply wake up, turn off her alarm, and continue with her day.

That did not happen.

JJ slipped back into her room and grabbed her lanyard, to avoid getting locked out of her room with the annoying automatically locking doors.

She closed her own door quietly, as much as she was mad at Garcia for managing to sleep through the noise, she didn’t really want to bother her. JJ started with knocking lightly on the other girls door, rapping on the wooden door right next to the construction paper sea turtle that their RA had written Emily’s name tag on.

“Emily,” JJ said quietly, “Your alarm is going off.”

JJ checked her watch. Eight ten. Emily’s midterm for Clinical Psychology was at eight-thirty. She knocked louder.

No response.

She must be a very heavy sleeper.

JJ knocked louder, scared she would wake up the whole floor, but more worried about Emily’s education than disturbing them. Their walls were thin, but the fact that Emily could sleep through an alarm that could wake JJ up, across the hall, and sleep through JJ’s knocks, was borderline concerning.

After a few minutes of near-panicked knocking, she finally heard movement in the other room, with a muffled “Whaa-” coming from Emily.

She opened the door, rubbing her eyes and holding her phone.

“Your alarm was going off,” JJ said, sheepishly as she took in the taller girl staring at her in complete confusion. “And you have a midterm.”

Emily looked down to the phone in her hand, looking at the time and said, simply: “Shit,” before spinning back around.

“You have twenty minutes,” JJ pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Yes I very much do,” Emily replied, “And it’s in the psych building which is on the exact opposite side of campus. Dammit, the alarm must have been going off for a half hour. I have no idea how I slept through it.”

JJ, unsure at the protocol of what was happening, stood in the open doorway. She found herself somewhat overwhelmed at the sight of Emily. Instead of the t-shirt and pj pants that JJ had seen on her before, Emily was instead wearing a delicate, semi-transparent cotton camisole and silky looking shorts that were quite short and showed off most of Emily’s long legs. Her skin was pale, and even, without any freckles or scars marring the porcelain-like limbs. JJ, on the other hand, knew her tanned skin revealed the scars from the endless cuts and scrapes she’d acquired being a sporty child.

What caught her eye most was something poking through the fabric of the thin camisole. JJ blushed as she realized that Emily had her nipples pierced.

Emily’s ensemble showed off much more of Emily’s body than JJ had ever seen before, but it wasn’t the body that shocked her (Jennifer Jareau played sports her whole life, she wasn’t shy about nudity), what shocked her was the fact that she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.

JJ had planned to wake up whoever was disturbing her with their alarm, then immediately go back to bed, but now she felt as if her feet were glued to the floor.

With her hands grasping her keys, clutching them tightly, JJ stared at her friend as Emily dug through her chest of drawers and stormed around the room in a frenzy.

She was not simply staring, JJ realized to her own personal confusion, she was ogling her. Emily’s typically perfectly straight black hair was wavy and messy, mussed by sleep and her bare face had a classic beauty that made something tighten in JJ’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Emily muttered, throwing a pair of sweat pants over her shorts, not really having any time to get dressed. “Thank you for waking me JJ.”

This roused JJ from her thoughts, forcing her to come to terms that she was checking her friend out. She felt her face warm in a blush, and stared at the floor so she would no longer be looking at Emily like that.

“We use the same alarm,” JJ said, dumbly. “I thought it was mine.”

She gulped, watching Emily yank a hoodie over her head, and smooth her hair down with her fingers. Emily yawned, letting out a cute noise that made JJ smile.

“Well,” Emily replies, smiling at her sweetly, “I would have fully slept through this midterm if it wasn’t for you. You saved my life. Merci.”

Emily grabbed her backpack which was hanging off the back of her chair, and slings it over her shoulder. From atop her dresser, Emily picked up a red apple, rubbing it off on her shirt in lieu of washing it.

“Thank you again,” Emily says, pulling her into a quick hug. JJ found herself engulfed in Emily’s warm arms, the smell of orchids and coffee, for a short, amazing moment, before Emily pulled back.

Emily shut her door, took a bite of her apple with a wink at JJ, then ran down the hall on her way to her class.

JJ stepped back, left behind standing in the centre of the hall, alone with her thoughts. She remained there for a moment, processing the mixed bag of emotions.

She turned back around, unlocked her door, then sat back onto her bed. It was still warm from her body, and beckoned for her to return to its warm embrace. JJ, on the other hand, was still reeling from another embrace, that of her friend and neighbour.

Her friend, she reminded herself. They were friends.

JJ stared into the distance, breathing deeply and trying to process her racing thoughts. Her break up was fresh in her mind. She was still reeling from her break up, was overtired, and had just spent the entire evening with Emily listening to her speak to her in the literal language of love, no wonder why her brain was all mixed up.

JJ shook her head and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. She put her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

Instead of her normal anxious thoughts about her midterms, her upcoming game and the end of her almost two year long relationship, her brain flashed to Emily. How patient she was last night explaining all the possible conjugations of the verbs, how she told her funny stories about her childhood in France, how she tried to catch the M&Ms in her mouth, and missed every time.

Emily could speak French fluently, and it was probably one of the most attractive things that JJ had ever experienced. She rolled her r’s so perfectly, and spoke with a clarity that she struggled to find in her professor’s strange accent.

JJ rolled onto her side, tugging the blanket around her, lost in thought. Emily was so nice, JJ really liked her. She liked her as a friend, right? That’s what this was?

She thought about Emily, who bakes cookies in the middle of the night, who gets way too into beer pong and who smiles wide every time she saw JJ and held her hand tightly as they walked home last night.

Did JJ like Emily? Like-like her? She didn’t know. She doesn’t like girls. She hadn’t really liked that many people before. She dated Will for two years, two nice, normal, comfortable years where she didn’t have to think about these things, about crushes or feelings.

She was always a very focused child, focused on school and on soccer and on getting to college. It was Will who pursued her, who was the first to text, who invited her places and encouraged her to be present. JJ was always reacting to the boy's affection, every time.

Her mom had The Talk with her when she was thirteen, which was awkward and tense, but instead of the typical discussion about the birds and the bees, her mom talked about love and consent and JJ’s future partner . At the time, JJ thought her mom was being silly because JJ liked boys;, she had crushes on boys like all the other girls in her grade. She always would pick the nicest one, and select him as her crush when the other girls would ask. But now, looking back, maybe JJ’s mom saw something JJ hadn’t seen herself.

No. That couldn’t be.

Jennifer, she scolded herself, don’t go down the rabbit hole. You just went through a messy break up. You’re confused is all.

It was true, just yesterday JJ fought with Will and it ended in, well, an ending of their relationship. Over the phone. He told her that he needed more from her, from them, and JJ told him that she was giving all she had. That was not enough for him.

She hadn’t even had that much time to think about it, and him, let alone tell her friends and family that it had happened.

She had hung up the phone and immediately had to go to a class. Before she knew it she was in a study room with Emily Prentiss forgetting all about her break up.

Her mind flashed to the girl in her class who had come out in eighth grade, how after she had, the other girls had told JJ to make sure she had turned around so the girl wouldn’t look at her inappropriately. JJ had protested at the time, arguing that the girl probably didn’t even find them attractive anyway, but that hadn’t convinced the others. They had shunned the girl for the rest of the semester.

JJ remembered feeling a bit sick at the thought of being that other girl, who’s identity had been shamed by her peers. She went home that day and cried in sympathy. She didn’t know why she did.

After that she, on a private browser, looked up the acronym: LGBT. She discovered the term ally, and decided that that was what she was. She had cried because she supports people who are gay, or bi, or transgender, not because she likes girls. She was always told that she was a sensitive child, she cried because she was empathetic.

She had been confused about her feelings before, and had sorted them out. She could do that again easily. She didn’t like Emily that way. She was simply grateful for her company, for her friendship. She was a nice new friend, and JJ was just over excited as she got to know the girl across the hall.

JJ sighed. That made sense to her. She was a tangled mess of feelings and she needed some time to untangle them.

With that resolved, JJ tried to close her eyes and catch a few minutes of sleep but before she even closed her eyes, her alarm woke her up. Her real one.

She groaned.

To her right, Penelope woke up to the sound, yawning and rolling over at the sound.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Penelope murmured with a sleepy smile. “Late night last night?”

Penelope was probably her best friend at university, and her roommate. They were randomly placed together last year and had immediately become best friends. She was studying computer science, which was surprising because from what JJ could tell, Penelope could hack the FBI if she felt like it. She wasn't sure what else there was to study. Her side of the room was decorated in an explosion of colour, with endless trinkets on all of the available surfaces, and her walls covered in a rainbow of art, photos and miscellaneous ticket stubs and various moments of her life.

“Yeah,” JJ replied, sitting up in her bed and resigning herself to being awake. “I have that French midterm today.”

“Then the game!” she interjected, “I know! Spence and I will be there waving the flag.”

JJ smiled, grateful for her roommates' endless support.

“We should do trivia again this week,” Penelope says, “Reid is basically an encyclopedia and I think if we bring him we’ll win hands-down.”

JJ hummed in response, not really paying attention.

“I mean,” Penelope continued, “It’s probably unfair to drag a boy with an eidetic memory to a trivia game but I think it’ll be worth it.”

JJ was focusing on getting dressed, but tried to give her roommate enough reassuring nods to make sure she was active listening. She had to dress for her exam, then for her game so she chose track pants and her school windbreaker.

“Jayje, where’s your head at?” Penelope said and JJ frowned, she could read her like a book and could tell something was wrong. “You’re never this quiet. Is it about Will? We never really got to talk about what happened.”

JJ didn’t have the time to explain her tangled web of emotions.

“I’m fine Pen,” JJ assured her, “Just tired and worried about this midterm.”

“Okay,” she said, still looking worried, “You know I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Go get ‘em tiger!” Penelope grinned at her, “Just remember: voulez-vous coucher avec moi? That’s all you’ll need to know!”

JJ cracked a smile and wished Penelope a good morning, grabbed her bag before leaving. She waved goodbye and headed out into the morning, trying to shake her thoughts of Emily Prentiss away.

She had enough time to grab coffee and breakfast from the cafe before heading to her class a few minutes early so that she could look over her notes.

Forgetting Emily was hard when she was taking her French midterm, as the conjunction was coming to her, pronounced in Emily’s voice and explained in her clear, knowledgeable voice.

JJ sped through the midterm, a strange feeling tugging at her stomach as her focus was pulled two ways. One part of her, the one focused on the test, pictured Emily in front of her, her bangs getting in her face, her eyeliner drawn over her lid thickly coming to a sharp point on either side of her eyes, imagining her lips as she mouthed the words out to her. The other part of JJ, terrified of these thoughts and feelings, pushed her out of her mind, trying to compartmentalize the knowledge from the person.

Then her brain was filled with Will: of his kind smile, of how he hugged her tight and kissed her softly. Her brain desperately wanted to hang onto some sort of normal feeling of loss at the end of her relationship, but the majority of her feelings were unsatisfying and confusing.

The verb endings blurred together, and as she looked over her work before submitting, she found herself making stupid mistakes. JJ was in the middle of erasing an answer when her Professor called out to announce that time was up.

JJ walked out of the midterm frustrated. She was sure she did fine on it but was mad at herself for being distracted by her own personal issues.

She cursed Will for breaking up with her in midterm season, because she couldn’t focus on anything. She knew she was being distant, she knew it was her fault they were over, but the timing was overwhelming. Her status quo was crumbling and she was not quite sure how to keep the pieces together.

It’s over Jennifer, she said to herself, you finished your midterm. Time to focus on soccer and you’ll feel better.

That afternoon, JJ played an aggressive game, forcing her feelings out in her gameplay, running faster, tackling harder and hogging the ball more than she typically would.

She fought hard for the ball, barrelling towards the net, and setting up a perfect goal for her teammate. Who missed. It took JJ everything to not yell at her teammate, because she did not want to be red carded at a home game.

Next time she was on, instead of passing, she made sure she set herself up for a goal, charging past her opponents. She kicked. She scored. The roar of the crowd, the feeling of her team jumping upon her felt great.

In the stands, Penelope Garcia and Spencer Reid jumped high, cheering for their friend.

The adrenaline of the game wiped away the feelings of the day and JJ felt better. She felt normal. She could deal.

JJ could be happily single. She didn’t need Will and she certainly didn’t need to be distracted by anything right now anyways. She still had three midterms to go, then an away game next weekend.

After that, JJ could worry about her feelings. Until then, she had more important things to do.

In the locker room, JJ dried off, still buzzing with the win.

“Hey Jennifer,” a voice asked, coming up behind her. It was Kennedy. “Are you ok?”

Kennedy was a nice girl, in third year, who played defence. She was probably JJ’s closest friend on the team but outside of games, practise, and the occasional mandatory team social, JJ and she didn’t really talk.

“I’m fine,” JJ replied, stuffing her uniform into her locker. “Why do you ask?”

“You played a hard game,” Kennedy says, “I was impressed. You brought the heat.”

“So what’s the problem?” JJ says, hearing the terseness in her voice.

“Woah,” she says, stepping back and raising her hands in surrender, “Is something wrong? I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I’m fine,” JJ says, slamming her locker harder than she meant to.

She walked out of the locker room, feeling slightly embarrassed at her outburst. It had started to rain again, the cold, sharp droplets hitting her face and soaking her hoodie. Making a mental note to apologize to Kennedy later, JJ walked straight home to her dorm with tears stinging at her eyes.

As soon as her door closed, JJ jumped onto her bed, laying with her pillow on her head to block out the afternoon sun, as tears leaked out of the sides of her eyes. Letting go, JJ cried. She cried for the end of her relationship, for the fact that it was her fault for it ending, for the fact that she didn’t feel sad about the end of her relationship and because she didn’t know what to think about Emily.

---

That week, everywhere she turned, Emily Prentiss was there.

For a girl that she never seemed to run into at the beginning of the semester, Emily seemed to make up for that with this week.

First thing the next morning, JJ walked into the bathroom with bleary eyes. She hadn’t slept well and had trudged through her morning routine. As she put some toothpaste onto her toothbrush, the door swung open and Emily wandered in, with her own toiletries in hand, wearing only a robe. JJ found herself brushing her teeth harder, not making eye contact and focusing on her own reflection in the mirror. JJ stared herself down, not allowing her eyes to stray or herself to think about the naked Emily Prentiss behind the curtain. JJ didn’t want to see her. JJ was straight, and that would be silly. She did not want to think about that girls god damned nipple piercings, or the fact that they made her blush to think about.

On Tuesday night, JJ looked out of her window into the courtyard, only to see Emily Prentiss, smoking a cigarette near the streetlamp. JJ closed her curtains. She had to study for her midterms.

Coming home from class on Wednesday, Emily had her door propped open as she read a book, with some music playing off her record player. JJ pretended she was in a rush to get somewhere, grabbing a random book out of her room before leaving for the library. She realized after that she needed a different book for her essay, but it was too late after she had rushed down the hall to go back.

Leaving her Media Studies midterm on Thursday, she passed Emily in the hall on her way back from practise. Emily touched her arm as they crossed paths and asked her, in her sweet voice, if JJ needed any more help on her French homework. JJ hurriedly said that she didn’t, and that she would text her if she did. Pointing out that JJ didn’t have Emily’s number, she then insisted that JJ add her as a contact. She did not text Emily.

That weekend, JJ relished how an away game took her off campus, and away from her issues. All JJ had to focus on was soccer.

Except, news had finally gotten to her mother about Will. JJ spent most of the weekend fending off phone calls and from her concerned mother, who wanted to be there for her. JJ felt incredibly guilty avoiding her calls, because her mom had loved Will.

As soon as JJ was back in her room, she was forced to finally return her mom's call, as she had run out of excuses. It was a long coversation. After hanging up, JJ laid on her bed, exhausted by her mother's distress. It felt like her mom was going to miss Will more than she would. JJ had assured her that she was fine, that she would call again soon, and, yes, she would like a care package, because that would mean she’d get a box of snacks, including Cheetos, which she was desperately craving.

After a few minutes of laying on her bed, with her packed bags still on the floor next to her, and still wearing her school branded windbreaker, there was a knock on her door.

She ignored it. She was sick of people being worried about her. Sick of everyone asking her if she was ok.

The person knocked again, more insistently.

JJ rolled onto her side, looking at her wall. There was her ex-boyfriend, on the wall in her once treasured prom photo, looking at her. She tore the photo down.

Her eyes wandered up to her other photos taped to the wall: her and her sister at Christmas when she was eight. JJ was holding up her new shadow box containing a blue butterfly (morpho menelaus) and standing next to her was her sister Rosaline, grinning wide and hugging her tight.

She wanted to ask Ros what was going on with her. Why she felt so untethered. Why she felt relieved that her boyfriend broke up with her. Why she simultaneously wanted to run towards and away from Emily Prentiss.

But, she could not ask her any of these questions. She tugged at her sister’s necklace, which was around her neck, resting over her heart, as always. Hoping for some kind of direction.

There was another knock on her door.

JJ opened it, finding the meek face of Spencer Reid on the other side. He waved awkwardly, and did not seem to notice her disheveled state.

“Garcia said that we could eat without her,” he said, “She’s in a lab this evening and is ordering pizza.”

Dinner. The trio always ate together when JJ was in town.

“I’m starving,” JJ admitted, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach flipped in protest.

JJ opened the door for him and turned back to the mirror. Reid sat down on the edge of Penelope’s bed. Of all the people on the other side of the door, he was probably the only one who wouldn't force her to talk about her feelings if she didn't want to.

“How was your game?” he asked politely.

JJ made a noncommittal noise.

“You know,” he continued without a pause, “Around two hundred countries or territories in the world play soccer, depending on what you consider a country, as the UN only recognizes two hundred and fifty one countries and territories while the US recognizes less than two hundred. You could play this game with more people than you could speak to in English.”

JJ ran a brush through her hair, hoping to make herself look presentable for the cafeteria. Spencer continued, barely coming up for air let alone wait for her response. Normally, JJ would fight to get a word in edgewise, but today, Spencer’s monologue was soothing her.

The rain had slowed to a slightly annoying drip, with dull clouds hanging low onto campus.

Together, they walked down the street to the cafeteria, which was in a dull concrete building near most of the residences. Spencer transitioned from discussing the impact of sports on global diplomacy, to talking about his day and chatting about how he has started hanging out with Derek Morgan more often.

JJ blinked at that, trying not to let her thoughts wander from Derek to Emily and her current turmoil.

Her minor reaction unheeded, Spencer discussed how Derek discovered that he could lift him, and had bench pressed him. Spencer, despite admitting that he was nervous around football players like Derek, given his rough time in high school, smiled as he told her this. She forced herself to be present, to engage with her friend, which was a welcome distraction.

Grabbing their trays, they both wandered around the buffet style cafeteria, peeking at the specials and deciding their preference. JJ steered past the vegetarian option, which was simply three pieces of tofu on some plain rice, and walked up to the burger bar. Comfort food was the plan. Reid, walking in her wake, joined her in her dinner choice. Soon, the two of them were eating burgers in companionable silence, both tackling mediocre, yet somewhat tasty meals. JJ sipped her water and felt Reid’s eyes on hers.

“You seem distracted,” he comments.

JJ looks down into her water.

“Penelope told me about Will,” he says, nervously, “I’m sorry?”

It comes out as a question.

“Look. I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I’m fine, she thought to herself, I’ve said that a lot today.

JJ softens, reminding herself that the boy only wants to help. She reaches her hand out and grabs his.

“Thank you for asking,” she smiles at him.

He perks up. She looked at him and while he was only three or so years younger, he looked so young. He was taller than her but still likely to keep growing, his gangly limbs awkward still in his adolescence. Still, he dressed like a professor, his outfits filled with cardigans and tweed.

They stood and made their way back to residence. JJ was starting to feel like herself again.

But, about thirty feet ahead of her was Emily Prentiss, fumbling with her keys as she tried to unlock the door to their building. It was really hard to push someone out of your mind when they lived across the hall.

Spencer noticed her hesitation.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” he asked.

JJ nodded, relieved at the offer. They turned to the right, and walked down the steps that lead to the lower part of campus, towards the nice graduate residences and the park. JJ stuck her hands deep into her jacket pockets, the fresh air making her feel a bit better.

“Will broke up with me,” she says to Spencer, not looking at him as she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, following suit.

“I’m…. not,” she admitted.

She found that in the cool, fall air, the words flowed out and after she started, it didn’t seem to stop.

“I’m not and I should be. I should be crying about my breakup, eating chocolate and watching shitty romcoms with Penelope. I should be calling my mom and getting advice about my heartbreak. I should be getting drunk and trying to rebound. For some reason, I’m just… angry.”

She stood, raising her arms into the air.

“I feel embarrassed that he was the one who broke up with me when I didn’t even like him that much.”

She sighed. He looked at her with wide eyes, listening intently without any judgment, or reservations. He wasn’t pushing her to share, or judging her for her words.

“And I think I like someone else.”

JJ did not mean to say that. She looked back over at Spencer, who didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Emily?” he guessed.

JJ fell silent. She did. She liked Emily. She spent the week running from that, and it had been staring her in the face the whole time. She nodded.

“That’s great!” he replied with a smile. “I think you would be really good together.”

JJ was struck with this. She wasn’t expecting the homophobia she remembered from high school, but she was not expecting this.

“We would?” She found herself smiling as she said this.

“Yeah, I think she likes you too.”

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds tv #jemily #emily prentiss x jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #gravelyhumerus cm college au #my post #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #jemily fanfiction #WOOO chapter 4!!!!!#enjoy #tell me what u guys think #sorry its late i struggled #the fic is almost 20k now!!!

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chiefladylightyay · 3 years ago

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Dragons of Vytal World Building note 3

Hopefully this will be the last world building notes post for a while so I can actually write something concrete for the au. Finally have a name for the thing!

Part Two located here

The Branwen-Rose-Xiao Long Family

Taiyang Xiao Long, charmed the pants off of his team, father of Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long. Contester for Dadliest Catch(tm) and Pungeon Master(tm). Teacher at Signal Preporatory Academy.

Raven Branwen-Xiao Long, got her pants charmed off by Tai, mother of Yang. Left the family for a little while due to untreated postpartum depression, returned in the nick of time to save Yang and Ruby from a wandering Grimm. Low key huntress, takes no shit from anyone. Currently MIA.

Summer Rose-Xiao Long, got her pants charmed off by Tai, mother of Ruby. Keeper of the Silver Eyes(tm) and Winner of the Super Mom(TM) award, slayer of Grimm and baker of cookies. Went on a dangerous solo mission and almost died, spends her time being a stay at home mom and occasionally teaching at Signal.

Qrow Branwen, got his pants charmed off by Tai, uncle of Ruby and Yang. Winner of the coveted Coolest Dude(tm) and Best Uncle(tm) awards, hobbies include turning into a bird and charming the pants off any gay and bisexual man he can get his hands on. Conquests include Specialist Clover Ebi and General James Ironwood. His semblance is the same as Raven's. No bad luck this time around, no sir. Had too much to drink once, never again.

Ruby Rose-Xiao Long, daughter of Summer and Tai. Keeper of the Silver Eyes(tm) and winner of the Cookie Nomster(tm) award. Dead set on becoming a huntress, despite all the terrible stories told by the adults in her family. Age 15 years and 10 months when she stops that famous criminal from robbing a random dust shop. Geekiest weapons nerd that ever geeked over a weapon. Has yet to suffer the gay mojo, but she will. Oh, yes, she will. Trans.

Yang Branwen-Xiao Long, daughter of Raven and Tai, punchiest blonde this side of the galaxy and junior Pungeon Master(tm). Hobbies include punching things, flirting with both guys and gals (succeeding too) hanging out at dive bars and riding a mean motorcycle. Has a masters degree in history. Age 16.

The von Schnee Family

Nicholas von Schnee, founder of the family line, got ennobled for saving the Kaiser once. Frame for the Arma Gigas. Long since dead and buried.

Wilhelm von Schnee, father of Willow von Schnee, grandfather of Winter, Weiss and Whitley. Founder of the Schnee Dust Company, think Scrooge McDuck, lived long enough to see the birth of all his grandchildren.

Edelweiss von Schnee, wife of Wilhelm and mother of Willow von Schnee, grandmother of Winter, Weiss and Whitley. Died in child birth.

Willow von Schnee, wife of Doctor Jacques von Schnee, mother of Winter, Weiss and Whitley von Schnee. Retired huntress, member of the Convention of Twelve. Spends most of her time at home, making sure her children are well cared for.

Doctor Jacques von Schnee, doctor of robotics, business and finance. Brother of Doctor Arthur Watts. Hired by Wilhelm to replace the workforce in the dust mines and refineries with robots. Hated by the working class for this feat. Husband of Willow von Schnee, father of Winter, Weiss and Whitley. Member of the Convention of Twelve, spends most of his time at the company hq. Still makes sure to spend time with his family.

Winter von Schnee, eldest child, has no desire to inherit and so passed the mantle of heiress off to Weiss. Combat Instructor at Atlas Academy and one of the primary advisors for the headmaster. Has a harsh but sisterly love towards her siblings because she wants them to be safe. Wants something more out of life, but does not know what. Age 22.

Wiess von Schnee, middle child and heiress to the family fortune and the SDC. Famous around the world for her singing career, currently set to attend Beacon Academy to become a huntress. Very, very, very much a lesbian. Currently dating Penny Polendina, a fact she has somehow managed to keep hidden from the rest of the world. Has a masters degree in finance and business. Age 17 and change.

Whitley von Schnee, youngest and softest child. Very loved by his family, famous around the world for his music, specifically his piano pieces. Very fond of crepes, and heaven help you if you take them from him. Currently working on his doctorate. Age 14 and change.

Klein Sieben, head of household staff at the Schnee manor. Literally studied up his family fortune, but has no actual results (a bunch of Almost Doctorates are useless to an employer) from this. Had to turn to his old friend Willow to get himself a job. Much loved by the family and the rest of the staff.

The Belladonna Family

Shere Belladonna, the Red Maws operative who assassinated the Heir Presumptive of the Atlo-Mantelian Empire, thus sparking the Great War. Died unmourned in prison due to the horrific deaths in the war he caused. Very much a black mark in the family line.

Warchief Ghira Belladonna, father of Blake, ruler of Zion. A good man, spent his youth fighting for Faunus Rights. With the direction the White Fang has taken in recent years he's currently working on damage control.

Kali Belladonna, mother of Blake, like Ghira she spent her youth fighting for Faunus Rights, but her pregnancy put a firm stop to that. Spends her time advising the Fang on less violent methods, with mixed results, and teaching at Zion Preporatory Academy.

Blake Belladonna, daughter of Ghira and Kali, fighting for Faunus Rights is in her blood. Spent her youth fantasizing about being the Next Big Thing(tm) in the Good Fight(tm). Almost went off gallivanting with Adam Taurus, but a firm taking in hand by her parents scrapped that plan. Blake is very bitter about this fact. Intends to attend Beacon, just to get away from her parents whom she sees as too controlling. Age 16. She/Her nonbinary.

The Polendina Family

Doctor Pietro Polendina, father of Penny Polendina, and doctor of robotics and applied systems engineering. Due to an accident in his youth he's unable to father children. The same accident also left him paraplegic. Don't let the chair fool you, he's completely capable of laying the smackdown on anyone who threatens or bullies his daughter. Member of the Convention of Twelve, spends most of his time with Penny or building new military hardware for the Atlo-Mantelian government.

Penny Polendina, daughter of Pietro. Very cute, very curious and very gay, her free time is spent mostly with either her father or with Weiss. The first artifical human, her original purpose was to be the first of several, but the costs involved has left her as an only child. Sees Winter and Whitley as her siblings, much to their delight. Age 16 and change.

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sasarahsunshine · 4 years ago

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Criminal Obsession | Prologue

Warnings: Rated M for Mature. Murder, drugs, alcohol, sex, swearing, the whole shebang.

A/N: I’m finally getting around to my mafia!AU for Criminal Minds! I’m very excited, because unlike my other fics where I write whatever comes to mind, this one is actually planned out. I’m already almost done with chapter 3, and I hope to have an upload schedule for this one. We’ll see! This is a HotchReid fic.

You can also read this on AO3.

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The leader of America’s largest Crime Ring is lonely. He’s surrounded by his friends; people who he trusts with his life. He has his son. But he's lacking something more meaningful in his life. He’s lacking companionship. After the death of his wife a year ago, maybe it’s time to find someone new?

How did he end up there? Standing at the top of a marble staircase, blood splattered across his face as he watched his first kill tumble and roll to a stop on the red carpet below, eyes vacant of life. Nothing but the echoes of their dying breaths in his ears, a memory he won’t ever forget. Their blood drips from the knife in his shaking hand, his grip tightening. He’s only 14 years old. Only 14.

A pat on his shoulder, a glint in his father’s eye, a pearly white smile. “You did well, son.”

You did well.

He did well.

He didn’t feel well.

He spun around, vomiting over the railing to the floor below. Just another mess for the Help to clean, he thought glumly. That wasn’t his intention.

The cold hand on his shoulder gripped him tighter, malice in the voice which only seconds before was praising him, “You’re weak! I am so ashamed to have you as a son! You can’t even handle a little blood on your hands- how do you expect to survive in this world if you can’t even defend yourself in a fight? Pathetic.”

Ten years later, he thought over those words as he twisted the knife in his father’s gut, making sure to watch the light fade from his eyes. His father coughed, blood seeping from his blue lips, “Why?” He asked, his voice a whisper. He leaned closer, humming into the old man’s ear, “Not so pathetic now, am I, father?”

Twenty years later, on the anniversary of his father’s untimely death, he sits at his desk, his throne, and nurses a glass of the finest whiskey. It tastes like shit. Like every other alcohol that’s touched his tongue throughout his life. But it gets him drunk, and it burns his throat in the way he needs.

His suit is black, form-fitted, custom-made. His fingers tap an unknown beat on aged oak, his eyes set on the door. His office is enormous. Practically a library. But as he stares, it begins to feel smaller. The walls close in on him, his lungs aching for the oxygen he is being deprived of. He could open the window. But that would require him to turn around. So instead, he sits, he drinks, and he stares.

He’s very aware of who is on the other side. He knows what they want. He waits for them.

And, eventually, the door opens, creaking on old hinges as it’s pushed open with little care. The man who saunters in is not who he was expecting, and he finds himself allowing the smallest twitch of a smile to grace his lips.

He is thankful, for this man is his friend. He is thankful, for this man is his left-hand. He is charismatic. Charming. A breath of fresh air after the week he’s had.

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he takes a seat in the chair opposite of the desk, one leg going over the other as he leans back. He chuckles, running his hand over his shaved head. There’s dried blood speckled on his knuckles, on his disheveled button-up. The top two buttons are undone, and his tie is nowhere to be seen. There’s a brief moment where he wonders where the tie and jacket had gone to, seeing as his friend was wearing them both earlier in the day.

“You don’t need to worry about the threat anymore,” his left-hand says, flashing his white teeth in a smile that reveals small dimples. He pulls out a pocketknife, flipping it once in his hand before setting it on the desk, offering it as a gift. It’s covered in blood. The blood is going to stain the old oak of the desk.

“You’re sure?” He asks, finally setting his now empty whiskey glass down on a coaster. He can’t help as his eyes flitted behind his friend, taking in the large hallway behind him. A dead man is being dragged away by someone in a black suit, blood smearing on the floor behind him. “There was only one?”

“There were two,” he replies, holding up two fingers, “The first was in the kitchen. But don’t worry, I made sure they were the only ones. You’re safe. Jack’s safe.”

He allowed a sigh to escape. He didn’t need to be as stoic, as stern, in front of the left-hand; he knew that. He could finally relax. The room didn’t feel so small anymore. He could breathe again.

Sitting up a little, the vertebrae in his back cracking as he did, he nodded his head once, “Thank you, Morgan.”

“No problem, Hotch,” Morgan replied with a grin, “I had fun doing it.”

I’m sure, Hotch thought to himself. If anyone liked beating people to death, it was Morgan. That was probably why he discarded his jacket. Beating was messier than just shooting someone. He could never understand the so-called thrill of being covered in blood. He’d rather stand further away and just shoot someone between the eyes. Cleaner. Colder. Easier.

“Feel free to take the rest of the day off,” he replied, finally turning his chair around to look out the window at his expansive property, “But I want two men posted with Jack for the rest of the day. Just in case.”

“Right, boss,” Morgan said. Hotch could hear him stand and leave, not closing the door behind him. How irritating. Typically he would have called after him, but instead, he stayed silent, watching the soft breeze blow fallen leaves around in the yard. There weren’t that many yet, as it was only September, but the colder months were fast approaching. It wouldn’t be long before the auction season starts again.

“Door’s open,” he said as footsteps approached. He hated when people knocked. Turning his chair around, he found himself looking at the last person he wanted to see. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” The older man scoffed, walking into the office with an air of confidence. His hair was greying, salt and pepper sprinkled in his beard. He arched an eyebrow, “I was just told that there were only two assassins in here this year. Are you sure that’s the end of it? It’s only 2pm, you know.”

Hotch drummed his fingers on his desk, scowling, “Morgan said that was it. He double-checked the property. But if you’re so concerned, Dave, why don’t you just make yourself at home here in my office? Be my babysitter?”

Dave smirked, sitting down in the authentic leather seat with a chuckle, “Why, thank you, Aaron. I think I will.”

Hotch rolled his eyes, pulled the bottle of whiskey from his cabinet, and poured it into his glass. Dave procured another glass from somewhere, holding it out for Hotch to fill. He did so, but not without shooting his oldest and dearest friend a glare of disapproval. Dave was the only person who could get away with such blatant disrespect. And he knew it, too. That was why he did what he did so regularly: getting on Hotch’s nerves.

The two allowed silence to fall over them as they sipped on their alcohol, Dave smirking at the furrowed brow of Hotch when he tasted the burn. They shared several minutes like this, enjoying the quiet. Their lives weren’t often slow, so when it was, it was nice.

Perhaps ten minutes passed, maybe a little more, before Dave spoke, his eyes studying the swaying oak tree outside the window, “Have you gone to see Sean and Haley yet?”

Hotch peered over the rim of his glass at him, frowning, “No. My priority was making sure Jack was safe.”

“Yes, I know that. But normally, you would have gone by now. What is really keeping you locked in your office?”

Hotch scoffed. Damn Dave and his ability to read people. He shrugged his shoulders, his fingers once again drumming along the table. He chose not to dignify his friend with an answer. He decided to stay silent.

David sighed, leaning forward a little, “Is it because today isn’t just your father’s death-versary?” The use of that word was one only the two of them shared.

Hotch’s frown deepened as he stared at the whiskey in his glass. Thirty years ago, he killed someone for the first time. Twenty years ago, he killed his father. Ten years ago, his brother was murdered in retaliation. One year ago, his wife was murdered. He was not going to allow this year to be the year his son was taken from him too.

He didn’t need to say anything. David nodded in understanding, a thoughtful look to his eyes. He let a beat of silence fall between them before he spoke again, “It’s been a year since Haley. And longer since you two were intimate-”

“Dave,” Hotch warned, his eyes growing dark as he glanced at his right-hand man. David shrugged, choosing to continue speaking anyhow. He could get away with it. He was the only one who could. “All I’m saying, is that you can’t hide your loneliness from me. It was there before she died, and it’s there now.”

“I won’t bring anyone else into my life who can be ripped away just as quickly,” Hotch responded, setting his glass down. He no longer wanted alcohol. He wanted to punch someone. Probably Dave.

“Since last year, your empire has doubled!” Dave argued, leaning forward with interest, “And with that, so has your personal guard! Nobody is going to touch you, Jack, or anyone else you might find love with. Aaron, please, I’m begging you, you’re a miserable old man who is letting your emotions control your business sense.”

“My business sense? Old man? Watch it, Dave, you’re older than me,” Hotch scoffed, rolling his eyes, “And since when has my empire growing been a bad thing?”

“I’m not saying it is,” Dave countered, “But don’t you want someone to share your wealth with?”

Hotch let his shoulders slump a little as he leaned back, swiveling his chair from right to left, “I’ve had plenty of women to spoil in the last year-”

“Not escorts,” Dave scolded, “someone more permanent. Someone you can have hanging off your every word when you speak. Someone to take with you to the galas and the auctions. Someone like Haley used to be for you.”

Hotch was about to retort, but the echoing of little feet running down the marble-laid hallway broke his concentration. He smiled as his son came barreling into the office, dark hair wild and unkempt, giggles and squeals coming from him as his nanny was on his heels. Her face was that of exasperation, but she smiled at her boss upon seeing him, “Sorry, sir,” she said as Jack climbed into his father’s lap, wrapping his little arms around his neck and shouting, “Daddy! For Halloween this year, I want to be Spiderman!”

Dave chuckled. Hotch widened his eyes, “Oh yeah, buddy? Why do you want to be Spiderman?” Jack leaned in and whispered into his father’s ear, “‘Cause we just watched Spiderman, and he can swing from webs in the air. Kinda like when we’re in the ‘copter ‘cept he doesn’t need a ‘copter! He can just do that!”

Hotch smiled, planting a kiss on his son’s forehead, “Wow, that sounds super cool, buddy. Halloween is still almost two months away, though, so you have time to think about it if you want to change your mind.”

“Nope!” Jack shook his head proudly, “I’m going to be Spiderman!” He then turned and smiled wide at Dave, his front two teeth missing, “Uncle Dave! What are you going to be for Halloween?”

David laughed, setting his glass down and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, “I don’t know yet, kiddo. Maybe I’ll be Superman.”

“You can’t be Superman,” Jack scrunched up his nose.

“Oh? Why’s that?” David asked, peering from him to Hotch then back.

“Cause daddy’s Superman,” Jack said matter-of-factly. His nanny gave a tight-lipped smile at that, “That’s right, Jack,” she said. Hotch just smiled warmly at his son before picking him up and setting him down on the floor, “Well, Superman is still very busy right now,” he said, “so why don’t you go with Miss Clara and finish up your schoolwork, okay? I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Okay,” Jack nodded, smiling back at Miss Clara, “I only have some coloring left!” He declared. Miss Clara nodded, “Yep, so let’s go back to that, okay?” She looked up at Hotch, “Sorry again. He was just so excited to tell you.”

“It’s fine,” Hotch waved her off, watching her and his son hurry back down the hall. Thank goodness the Help was quick at cleaning up the bloody mess Morgan has left behind. He didn’t need Jack seeing that. He was only five.

Dave chuckled to himself, shaking his head a little, “Don’t think our conversation is over, Aaron,” he warned, “I’m not done trying to convince you to find a good woman to love.”

Hotch frowned. Of course, Dave wouldn’t drop it. He sighed and rolled his eyes, standing from his chair for the first time all day. His knees protested. “I don’t really have time to date, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Then pay for a girlfriend.”

“But you said no escorts,” Hotch knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

“Not escorts,” David used his hands for emphasis, “But what about a Sugar Baby?”

“A what?”

It was Dave’s turn to roll his eyes, “Oi, you’re younger than me, and you don’t know what a Sugar Baby is? Jesus Aaron, you haven’t been out of the game that long, have you?”

Hotch made a pointed look at Dave, expecting an explanation, not a taunting tone. Dave sighed, “Sugar Babies are girls who are paid for sex, but long-term. And not always with cash, although some take a certain amount upfront. They get spoiled by their Sugar Daddies with gifts, dinners, money, cars, whatever it is they want. A girlfriend you pay for. Someone to be your arm-candy at events. Someone to keep you company and to get your rocks off so you’ll stop being such an ass.”

Hotch scowled a little, leaning against his desk, his hands folded in his lap, “How is that different than an escort?” He was tense.

“Escorts are temporary. You fuck ‘em and dump ‘em,” Dave shrugged. Hotch furrowed his brow at his friend’s language. After a beat of silence, he exhaled, “That isn’t exactly a true girlfriend, either,” he pointed out.

Dave stood up, pulling a cigar out of the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket, “But it’s a step closer. Plus, you can shop around until you find one you like. You got money, Aaron. Might as well spend it.” He lit the cigar before inhaling on it deeply, blowing the expensive spice-scented smoke into the air. Hotch hated when he smoked inside.

He waved his hand in a motion to tell Dave to leave. Dave shrugged again, “Think about it, Aaron. I bet Penelope could put her feelers out there for you.”

“I can’t bring anyone in here,” Hotch warned, “With the business and all.”

“That’s why you have Penelope check them all out first. I’m sure there’s plenty of bad girls out there who have been Babies for other Crime Lords.”

Hotch flinched. He didn’t like being compared to other “Crime Lords.” He wasn’t like them. He didn’t deal in people. He didn’t murder for fun. He did what he needed to survive. This was survival, nothing more. Even though it was illegal.

Dave started walking out, waving his hand in farewell, “Think about it,” he said again, his smoke following him.

Hotch scoffed, going back to his desk and pulling out a file. He glanced it over, sitting down slowly. Financial reports from the last year. Boring.

He couldn’t help his mind from wandering a little, debating on the idea of a ‘Sugar Baby.’ A girl that had to be interested in what he said, what he did. Someone to wear extravagant dresses that he bought for them, custom-made, tailored to their body perfectly. Someone to hang off his arm at every event of the year. Many were coming up. The amount, he wasn’t sure, but he would have to ask Penelope. She would know.

Maybe it would be nice to have someone pay attention to him again. Someone to have in his bed for longer than one night, even if it was a paid arrangement.

His eyes flickered to the phone on his desk.

He hadn’t wanted a girlfriend before now because he couldn’t fathom the idea of even finding one. His life was too busy. If he wasn’t at an event in New York, he was in D.C. or Vegas. He just didn’t have the time. The only eligible woman on the property was his son’s nanny, and even though she was pretty, she was not his type.

But, if he could skip the formalities? If he could just have someone there for him without needing to date them first?

He picked up the receiver and dialed. After a beat, Penelope answered on the other end, “Yes, sir?”

“Garcia,” he started, “I need you to look into something for me.”

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