#Assignment Help in seattle

[reidrum]

if you keep asking | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)

summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it

cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns

wc: 2.2k

_______

the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.

the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.

it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.

the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.

his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”

it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.

you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.

you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.

you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.

the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”

“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.

taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.

you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”

she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“

“jj, drop it, please.”

the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.

you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.

unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.

he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.

so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.

spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”

jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”

they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.

something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.

he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.

the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.

so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.

he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”

you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.

“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?

your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.

don’t they say ignorance is bliss?

you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”

he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”

“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.

spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.

“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”

spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”

“but i’m oka-“

“no you’re not.”

there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”

“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.

you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.

“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.

your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.

“i’m sorry.” you cry.

“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.

“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”

“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.

“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“

“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.

“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.

spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”

he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.

“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”

you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”

you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”

he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”

“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”

he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”

you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.

when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Together

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> The team knows something is up between yourself and Hotch, except Rossi seems to be the only one to put the pieces together.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of sick. Fluff. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The whole team knew something was up. They just didn’t know what. 

Usually, you were normal with everyone. Chatty. Smiley. Professional. Maybe a little blunt every now and again. 

But not this time. 

For the last week you had been…cold. Well, not with them, at least. 

But with Hotch? You had been as cold as ice. 

But no-one could pin why. 

Even if it had just been small things, like the feeling in the meeting room in the morning when it just seemed to be the two of you, or the small looks you both gave each other – which had started out as awkward, but then quickly turned to shame and clear annoyance, the latter being much more clear on your end. It was definitely clear now. 

From the beginning of the case, you had been quick to change subjects. Always staying on the case, which was normal. But not your abruptness to do so. And when Hotch tried to pull you aside as the others made their way to the main doors, you brushed him off. 

Hotch was someone you never brushed off. Not until recently. 

And when you all landed in Seattle, Hotch was assigning teams for who was driving. But before he could place you with himself, JJ and Morgan, you pushed past him. 

“I’m going with Rossi.”

And Hotch didn’t say a word. 

Instead, he watched you walk away with your go bag, throwing it into the trunk with Dave. He gave his orders to Prentiss on what would happen and she updated you in the car. 

However, forty five minutes into a ninety minute drive, Emily’s voice started to make you feel dizzy. Then the heat in the car felt like it was blasting. So you rolled down the window. But that didn’t help. 

“Garcia said she’s already sent over some case files- Hey, you okay?”

From the backseat, Emily leaned forward to get a better look at you. 

“I’m fine.”

But five minutes later, you changed your mind. 

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay, okay. Just hold on.”

The car had barely been put into park by the time you threw the door open, tore your seatbelt away and ran out. 

Less than ten feet from the open car door, the last three drinks and meal you ate came straight back up and soaked into the dry grass. 

You heard a second car pull up behind and then heard Morgan and Hotch’s voice. Dave had already reached you, placing a hand on your back before pulling your hair back. 

“Okay, take it easy. Are you okay?”

You could only hum before throwing up once more. He rubbed circles on your back for a moment before you finally finished throwing up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Is she okay? Y/n, are you-”

“I’m fine!” You called out, a little harsher than you had intended. 

Holding out a hand, Rossi signalled for Hotch to stop and stay where he was with the others. 

“She’s okay, she just needs a minute. Emily, do we have water in the car?”

“Yep, here.”

Making her way over, Emily poured some water onto a tissue before handing it to you. You wiped down your mouth and your hand before being handed the bottle by Dave. 

“Small sips, okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, your back still to the rest of the team. “I just need a minute.”

“Aaron, we’ll meet you there.”

It took him a minute before he moved back to the car, but Hotch eventually nodded, calling out they’d see them at the precinct. 

“Do you know what it could be?” Emily asked. 

“Probably just some bad sushi.”

Emily nodded before getting back into the car. 

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Rossi asked once she was out of earshot. 

And for a moment, you paused. 

“Let’s just get going.”

Things only seemed to get worse from there. 

You managed to hide it as best as you could from the rest of the team, but every hour you had spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom throwing your guts up. 

A couple of officers did question where you had been when they couldn’t find you but hadn’t seen you leave the building. One mention of Aunt Flow and they didn’t ask again. 

Your coldness with Hotch didn’t ease, either. It just seemed to become more frigid. And everyone saw it. 

By the third day in Seattle, Prentiss and Morgan had questioned you on it in the break room. 

“Yeah, what do you have against Hotch all of a sudden? What, one week away from us and you’ve suddenly made an agenda against him?”

“Because I love you, I’m going to ask this only once. Please don’t ask about Hotch.”

Morgan and Prentiss looked between each other, slightly worriedly, but both silently agreed to drop it. 

“But you will sort it out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know.”

A few hours later, you were coming back out of the bathroom when Rossi seemed to jump out at you. 

“Jeez. Rossi. Give a girl some warning next time.”

Dave smiled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Have we caught a break?”

“No, but I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“About the fact you’re running to the bathroom every hour to throw up.”

“Like I said, it was probably just some bad food. I’ll be okay.”

Only, as you started walking away, Rossi asked you a question. 

“What happened between you and Hotch?”

“Nothing.” You answered, your back still to him. 

“Really? Because I wouldn’t call it nothing. I’d call it strange.”

“Rossi, I’ve asked Morgan and Prentiss-”

“I know, and I heard. But, to be frank, I think you’re lying and you’re too scared to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?”

But rather than voice it, Rossi just gave you a look. It took you a moment before you cracked a little. 

“Rossi…”

“You don’t have to tell me how or what happened, but I’m asking, just find out the truth. You don’t have to tell anyone. But I think the sooner you do it, the better it will be.”

“We’re in the middle of a case.”

Rossi shrugged, “Morgan and JJ are on their way back. Reid’s got it handled here. We’ll pick up some coffee on the way back as a cover. Let’s just go now.”

You seemed to hesitate, and Rossi could see it. 

“Please, for my sanity's sake?”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, you found a pharmacy and picked up a box. 

“Can you wait outside the door for me?”

“Of course.”

And he did. 

Once you paid for the box, the cashier directed you to a bathroom in the back. Except, long after the two minutes were up, you still hadn’t come out. So, Rossi knocked on the door. 

You swung it open and he jumped back a little. 

“I can’t look at it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to at some point.”

“I’ve wiped it down and it’s got a cap but…can you look? I’m too scared.”

Rossi could see the fear in your eyes. Oh, how two little lines could instil so much fear into people who dealt with crime every day. 

Handing the package to Rossi, he turned it around and pulled it out of the packet. 

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Turning it around so you could see, you took it back into your grasp as you pushed one hand through your hair. 

“Oh, my god.”

“I think you and Hotch need to have a conversation.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Rossi smiled, holding your hand which he could feel shaking. “You have my word.”

Somehow, back in the precinct, you managed to keep your cool. You’d brought back coffee for the team and, despite the fact you caught Hotch watching you from his seat, noticing your shaking hand, you pulled it back and found a spare pen from JJ’s notepad and spun it over and over in your fingers. 

Thankfully, due to the “food poisoning”, you had been kept out of the field when it came to finding the unsub. However, this just gave you a very large sense of dread. You watched them all run out of the door, Rossi placing a hand on your arm talking directly to you. 

“I’ll look out for him.” He told you before the others could hear him. 

“Thank you.”

Possibly carrying Hotch’s child made watching him and the team run out of the door, without you, made that sense of dread practically triple. Especially considering no-one other than Rossi knew the truth, or at least a part of it, about yourself and Aaron. 

Thankfully, no-one got hurt and the unsub was apprehended in time before he could hurt anyone else. They all came back with looks of relief and tiredness when you saw them, but there was a barely visible look of confusion and perhaps, hopefulness, on Hotch’s face when your scowl at him didn’t seem so cold. 

On the plane ride back, you were quiet. Everyone was, but there was just an air about you that told those paying attention to you that you were in your own world. 

Of course, Rossi knew why. 

But it was tearing at Hotch why he didn’t. 

Pulling back into the office, Penelope greeted you all by the elevator, hugging you all. And handing you some dry crackers and a bottle of water. 

“Thanks, Garcia.”

As everyone said their goodnights, you watched as Hotch walked directly through the bullpen and towards his office. 

“I think there are a couple of things you and he need to talk about.”

You nodded, with a light smile. “You’re right.”

Rossi kissed you cheek before saying goodnight and saluting you before the elevator doors closed. You did a small one back before turning your gaze back to the dim lights coming from Hotch’s office. 

However, first, you ran to the bathroom. 

Sitting at his desk, Hotch was halfway finished with the last of his reports when a knock came to his door. 

Looking up from his desk, there was a slight look on his face that told you he wasn’t expecting you. And you couldn’t be surprised. You’d barely been able to look him in the eye for the last month and a half, and you’d been nothing but cold and if a little harsh with him for the last couple of weeks. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Can we talk?”

Hotch nodded. “Come on in.”

You nodded back, entering, but closing the door behind you. Which made Hotch stand. 

“Is everything-”

“I’m pregnant.”

A silence settled over the room that you were expecting, but still shocked you. And every possible emotion, some you couldn’t even name, passed over his face before he was forced to sit down. 

“Oh.”

“Can I sit?”

He nodded, quickly signalling for you to do so. And so you did. 

“What did…How- When did you find out?”

“Sometime in the last twenty four hours.” You answered which confused Hotch, which you could understand. It was a vague explanation. “It’s all been kind of a blur.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant. 

“Does anyone…know?”

You nodded. “Rossi.”

“Dave knows?”

“He seemed to know before I did…kinda.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess I had a feeling when I got carsick, but denial carried me through.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “No. Oh, and, um, I-I took another test to be sure. H-here.”

With a lot of nerves and a lot of awkward courage, you passed the second test across the desk to Hotch who took it in his hands and looked at it. 

Two bright pink lines. 

Positive test. 

“Just so I’m…clear. You are telling me because I’m…”

“The father?” you questioned. “Yes. There wasn’t anyone before or after you for it to be someone else.”

Hotch nodded. “Okay.”

You both sat in silence for a while, taking in what had just happened. 

“I, well, I haven’t been to see a doctor yet so I can’t know for certain but these tests are usually pretty accurate.”

Hotch could only nod. 

“You’re free to make any decision you wish,” Hotch assured you. “I’ll support you either way.”

You nodded in a small thank you. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. With our line of work, it gives you the handbook over why you shouldn’t have children. But, if I do decide to do this…I’m prepared to do this on my own. If I am going to do it, I’d prefer to have you in their life.” 

Your hand absentmindedly touched your stomach and you looked down to it for a moment. 

“But, I’m prepared to do it on my own.”

Hotch took in everything you said and nodded. “Like I said, I’ll support any decision you make but if you do decide to have our child…” 

Those two words settled over the both of you. 

Our Child. 

Our Child. 

Our Child.

“One thing you don’t have to worry about is doing it alone. I want to be a part of their life. And whatever support you need, I’ll try and help with.”

You nodded before looking back down to your stomach. 

Once again, a silence settled over the both of you and it was like he could hear your brain going into overload with information and feelings. But just as he was about to call your name, you looked up. 

Tears were being held tight behind your eyes, but a few words and they were ready to fall free. 

“I’m…I’m scared, Aaron.”

It didn’t take him a second thought before he stood up and met you where you were sitting. As he got around his desk, you stood and he embraced you tightly. 

He swallowed thickly, nodding and placing a quick kiss to your hair. “It’ll be okay.”

A week later, the team had taken notice of the change between yourself and Hotch. It was no longer cold, but it wasn’t what it was. It was something…uneasy. You had both clearly had a tough talk and were on rocky shores, but you were both finding a way to make it work. 

It was also a week later that you had made your decision. 

You were going to have a baby. 

A lot of different scenarios passed through your mind when you thought about what you were going to do. It would be hard, of course. It would be difficult to work the cases you do and not feel a little more emotionally involved. But you also couldn’t help but think that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. 

A part of you had wanted children for a long time, but the thought of actually having them was slipping further and further away the more you worked. 

And, despite you feeling selfish, you wanted a baby. You wanted to see a child, your child,  grow up and have a life of their own. You wanted to make the memories you had as a kid, but with them. 

You knew it would be difficult to do so when you joined the Academy, but part of you always wanted a home filled with the sound of laughter and joy. 

And maybe this was your only chance. 

And in all honesty, Aaron had similar feelings. 

It would be hard, sure. But he also wanted this in his life. He wanted a child. He wanted you in his life, however that would be. 

Of course, neither of you had seen this coming when you had run into each other at the Inn you had found. A halfway stop to your actual destination. Only, rather than continuing on your separate journeys for your week’s vacation time, you both found yourselves unable to leave the small town and the safe walls of the local Inn. 

It was that part of the story the team would forever speculate on once they found out you were pregnant and it was, in fact, Hotch’s baby. 

That was a piece of information they clued together themselves when Hotch called them in for an early meeting, but had confirmation on just a few moments later.

“So, what’s happening here?”

“Are you together?”

“We’re…still figuring that out.” Hotch answered, looking at you.

Neither of you had exactly had the conversation over what you were. Were you a couple? Were you friends? Were you co-workers? Were you just co-workers having a baby together?

HR weren’t exactly happy about the get-together but so long as the relationship wasn’t going to break any codes of conduct within the field, you were both still free to keep working. And more importantly, working together. 

However, over the next nine months, certain things seemed to blur. 

Aaron came with you to every doctor’s appointment, never missing one. When you had both first heard your baby’s heartbeat, you had clutched onto his hand and not let go. And when the sound got clearer, he pulled you a little closer, rubbing your arm and kissing your hand. 

It was a little odd, feeling the baby kick for the first time whilst being stood outside of a crime scene. 

Morgan had been with you at the time, quickly calling for Hotch when your posture and face changed from quizzical to concerned. Only, by the time Aaron had reached you both, you laughed and told them what was happening. 

Morgan then called JJ over as you guided Aaron’s hand to your stomach. And you both shared an intimate moment, just looking at one another, feeling your unborn baby kick at your stomach for the first time. 

JJ was able to confirm what was going on and both herself and Morgan congratulated you before you all remembered where you were and got back to work.

The cold glares you had given Hotch in the weeks leading up to you finding out had disappeared completely after the hug you shared in his office when you told him. And by the time you were entering your second trimester, they had turned into something similar to what they were before everything had changed. 

You had both become friends. 

He had also relaxed a little more around you, which allowed him space to take in what was actually happening. So, when your cravings started kicking in, he would hand you snacks throughout the days. You wouldn’t even know what you wanted at the time and he just…seemed to know. 

And at some point between him attending doctors appointments, helping you with your pregnancy cravings and reading to your belly, you had both begun to live together. 

It made sense, at least for the first couple of weeks after the birth and partly during the pregnancy. If you went into labour, it would be safer if someone was with you. And, it meant he was there when, in the middle of the night, you woke up with braxton hicks and panicked a little before getting checked out at the hospital, just in case. 

Also, small touches began. 

From you holding his hand against your stomach when your baby kicked, to his fingers tracing yours whilst they held that position. Then, in break rooms. They were quick, but light kisses would be pressed to your head or cheek whenever he handed you something. He was always close to you, barely leaving your side when in the field. His hand, always at the small of your back when leading you somewhere. And in the early hours of the morning, his arms would be across you as you both lay in bed, holding you close against his chest. 

Until, finally, one night whilst lay in bed, you asked a question. 

Both facing each other, despite your eyes being closed, Aaron traced repeated patterns from pushing your hair back to trailing his fingers down your arm to find your hand, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. 

Both of you should be fast asleep, yet you weren’t. 

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“Sleeping.”

You laughed a little. “No we’re not.”

“I’m sleep talking.”

“Aaron, I’m being serious.”

With a small laugh, Aaron sighed. “Okay, what is it?”

He finally opened his eyes and so did you.

“What are we doing? About us, I mean. We’re having a baby together, but we’re not together together. We work together, but we also live together. What happens after the first couple of months? Do we…what do we do?”

“I suppose we just have to take each day as it comes and see what happens.”

“I can live with that.”

“Or…”

“Oh, no.” 

Aaron laughed a little and shook his head, bringing his hand back to your face and brushing the hair from it. 

“Or,” he repeated, “we treat this for what it really is.”

“I don’t…” you shook your head. 

“I know I don’t regret what happened that week away. Even more so now, but before…before we both found out. I still didn’t regret it. I don’t. We say we live together out of convenience, but I know, at least for me, it’s something more. Now, if for you it’s still out of convenience and bonding for our child, then we can have this conversation when the time comes. But, you should know my feelings for you run deeper than just you being my co-worker and the mother of our child. Do you…could you see yourself…feeling the same?”

The silence that came over both of you for a moment made Aaron worry. Maybe he had gotten it wrong in his head. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you were just caught up in the emotions of carrying his child and, since you were in it together, some form of feelings, similar to that of his, were getting blurry. 

But then you blinked. 

And a light smile graced across your face. 

“I do.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. But still, your words echoed louder and louder around his head. 

“You…you do?”

You nodded. “I do.”

Aaron took a moment, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. It was like your first, all over again. Except, this time, rather than a little fear being behind it, considering at the time you were both still co-workers just on vacation, there was nothing but…

Relief. 

More specifically, relief for love. 

For months you’d both been avoiding the biggest barrier between both of you. Too scared and too fearful that the answer to each question would be some variant of “No.” 

And now…

Finally the answer was yes. 

Yes to love. 

Together.

Yes to a life.

Together. 

Yes to a family. 

Together.

[sweetercalypso]

New Gods ✩ Abby Anderson

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: The first time Abby meets seraphite!reader, she shows her mercy. The second time they meet, reader repays her kindness

Notes: minors dni; fingering and oral (Abby rec.), semi-public sex, afab reader, dom!Abby, mean!Abby, mentions of guns, brief violence, religious references, enemies to lovers

When Abby hears that she’s being put on a patrol headed for the abandoned side of town, she thinks it’s a joke.

Surely this was some form of punishment, or a test of her loyalty to Isaac’s command. Two weeks in an unoccupied base with a batch of new recruits – it has to be a mistake.

It’s not until the transport truck pulls away from the stadium that Abby accepts the reality of the situation, groaning into her hands to hide her indignation.

The only good thing about this patrol, she thinks, is that absolutely nothing can go wrong.

Abby and her entourage of WLF recruits arrive at their assigned base late in the evening, the sun already sinking low behind Seattle’s derelict skyline.

The city is silent beyond the hum of the armored truck rolling to a stop in front of an old office building. Years ago, the area had been a thriving hub of WLF activity, but the threat of Seraphite armies had shifted attention elsewhere, leaving the bases to sit empty and collecting dust.

Abby swallows her complaints as the truck’s engine shuts off, leaving a jarring silence that prompts her fellow gunmen to turn their collective attention towards her.

Her expertise is better suited to combat than to training, and the thought of being in charge of four wide-eyed rookies makes her question the sanity of whoever put this team together.

She briefly explains the patrol assignment before dolling out tasks to each of the recruits, leaving herself the duty of surveying the perimeter.

Early WLF soldiers had cleared most of the infected while the area was still active, and with the lack of excitement in the streets, Abby returns to the base with the verdict that this patrol will be entirely uneventful.

While the others are setting up camp on the second floor – five cots lined against a wall with a radio station by the windows and supply crates littered around the room – Abby keeps herself busy with watching the thick, heavy clouds rolling in the distance.

She imagines what she might be doing if she had been placed on a different patrol and she crosses her arms over her chest with a bitter sigh.

 Anything has to be more exciting than this.

 –

Abby awakens while the sky is still dark, the remaining light of dusk swallowed by the inky black threat of storm clouds overhead.

Thunder cracks viciously in the air, rumbling the dusty room and promising to crumble the building’s frame already bowing under years of neglect.

The sound of her distress is barely audible over the harsh rain beating against the windows and, for a moment, Abby can’t remember where she is.

Her mouth feels dry, and it takes an effort to slow her labored breaths. She runs a hand over her face, wiping away her momentary confusion before checking that the other patrollers are still asleep, slipping off her cot and stumbling blindly through the darkened room.

Her weapons and her pack are still resting against a nearby crate, exactly where she’d left them. She slips the strap of her backpack between her fingers, hoping that the familiar worn canvas will distract from the deafening thunder crackling in her ears.

She holds her breath and counts the seconds between the streaks of lightning and claps of thunder – a trick her dad had taught her when she was young.

Somewhere between flash and bang, the sound of footsteps overhead catches Abby’s attention. Her head jerks up towards the source of the noise and she quickly forgets about the looming urgency of bad weather.

The door to the stairwell is propped open, and although Abby knows it was left ajar to air out the stuffy office space, she can’t help but imagine something sinister looming beyond the doorway.

She grabs the closest gun and makes her way to the stairs, listening for the sounds of movement overhead.

All the floors had been checked for infected and all the windows had been secured, but Abby still couldn’t shake the thought of someone invading their base in the dead of night.

She treads up the stairs and pushes the door open, only to be met with the sight of a lonely silhouette moving through the darkness. Abby jumps into action just as she’d been taught, heart thumping wildly as she raises her weapon and aims.

“Get on the ground – now!”

She spits out the stern command, harsh but still quiet enough that it barely fills the room. Despite the anger twisting in her chest, she’s rational enough to know better than to alert the other patrollers sleeping downstairs.

From the looks of it, the intruder was here alone, unarmed. It seemed better to deal with the situation on her own than to cause unwarranted panic the first night in to a new assignment.

The sound of her voice must’ve caught you by surprise because you stop dead in your tracks, not even moving to lunge for cover from the stranger gunning you down.

Illuminated by only the sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the shadows, it takes a moment for Abby to piece together the scene before her.

You’re soaked to the bone, cloaked in brown cloth and shivering from the rain clinging to your skin.

At first, she thought you might’ve been a soldier from another patrol, separated from your group and seeking shelter in an expectedly empty outpost. Or maybe you could’ve been a straggler roaming the city in search of supplies left behind by its former inhabitants.

But when a crack of lightning catches your features at the right angle, Abby recognizes the mark stretching across your cheek, and realization washes over her.

“Fucking Scars.”

She keeps her gun steady, though her fingers flex against the heavy, steel grip.  

With eyes trained diligently on your figure, she closes the distance between the two of you in a few short steps, scowling when she’s close enough to discern the look of confusion on your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, shoving the muzzle of her gun roughly into your shoulder and spitting out a sharp “answer me”.

Her boot hits the back of your leg and you crumble into the floor with swallowed discontent.

“I’m not- I didn’t know you would be here.” You scramble to explain yourself, chancing a look at Abby standing behind you. She pushes her gun further into your shoulder, silently instructing your gaze back to the floor.

“This building’s supposed to be empty. It says so on the map.”

“You’re spying on our bases?” Her voice rises with every word, no longer concerned with who might hear. “Planning a fucking ambush?”

“No! Nothing like that. I’m not a soldier, I was supposed to collect supplies from the city, but I got caught in the rain.”

She laughs and rolls her shoulders reflexively.

“I don’t care why you’re here – Scars don’t get second chances.”

Thunder rattles the thin-paned windows lining the room. Abby’s heartbeat fills her ears. Prayer tumbles from your lips like the nervous chatter of teeth – uneasy, repetitive, instinctive.

Abby had never given much thought to prayer before, especially not that of a Scar. It’s always the same routine pleading that’ll never be answered. But it doesn’t sound like you’re begging for salvation, it sounds like you’re making peace.

Something about the situation doesn’t seem fair. You’re completely helpless, caught in a trap you couldn’t see laid out in front of you. Your people must’ve known something like this could happen, yet they sent you into the wolves’ den, anyway – a sacrificial lamb led to the slaughter.

A foreign pang of uncertainty resonates through Abby’s chest, and she lowers her gun with a shake of her head.

“Just- just go.”

A beat passes before you look back at Abby in disbelief. You gape blankly at her for a moment before mouthing a small “what?”.

She huffs impatiently and grabs you by the arm, hauling you up from your position on the floor. If anyone came in and found the two of you standing this close, you’d both be dead before you could part.

“Leave. Now. If the others find you here, they won’t be so nice.”

Her eyes flit over your face, searching for confirmation that she was doing the right thing. She expected to find fear etched into your features, maybe gratefulness, or even shock. But she’s met with only curiosity in your wide, unblinking eyes.

She pushes you away and turns to leave before she can change her mind, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.

Abby knows what the other patrollers would’ve done if they had found you first. She knows what she would’ve done if the circumstances had been different.

You should be dead – or worse. It hadn’t been that long since she’d assisted in the interrogations that happened to Scars who’d been captured and strung up in cells for the rest of their days.

When Abby thinks about those people now, only one face stares back at her.

–

The next morning, Abby is forced to bite her tongue when someone finds the upstairs window open, raindrops clinging to the wood frame serving as the only evidence of your intrusion.

She blames it on one of the other patrollers, suggesting that they didn’t do a thorough enough sweep the night before, but not everyone is convinced.  

They search the building anyway but come up empty-handed, and the situation is defused and entirely forgotten by midday.

For the remainder of their two-week patrol, Abby wonders if you had really been there at all, or if you were a product of some underlying guilt she had stored in the back of her mind. She would stay up through night and listen for the sound of footsteps, not sure if she should feel relief or disappointment when the mornings arrived without any sign of you.

When the familiar rumble of the armored truck rolls in to collect Abby and the recruits, she returns to the stadium and does her best to keep you off her mind.

She volunteers for extra shifts; she monitors the communications radio; she listens to stories of other patrollers and wonders if they’re describing you in their encounters with unnamed and faceless Scars.

When she hears about another group headed for the abandoned side of the city, she jumps at the opportunity to join their patrol. Anything for some peace of mind, she tells herself.

They’re dropped off in front of a different building, a couple blocks west of where her last patrol had been located. Abby’s chest deflates when she realizes the absurdity of her desire to find you again.

It’d been weeks since she’d let you go, and surely you’d learned your lesson about venturing near WLF bases alone. Maybe you hadn’t, and someone else had found you before Abby had the chance.

She shivers at the thought and moves to catch up with the rest of her team, abandoning her concern for something more practical.

She offers to check the upper floors while the others bring in supplies, and no one objects to avoiding the endless flights of stairs and dusty rooms waiting for her.

Four floors up, Abby stops to inspect a window that had been broken some time ago. Shards of glass and a handful of dead leaves lay at her feet, and when stoops down to look for anything out of the ordinary, the door to the stairwell creaks shut behind her.

“It’s you.”

Her head whips around at the sound of your voice, familiar but different now that you’re no longer at her will.

From where she stands, Abby can see the way your chest rises and falls with anticipation, the way your hands twist at your sides. She waits for you to speak again, but the room falls silent.

“What’re you doing here?” she hisses, praying that the others were too busy to come check on her progress.

“I heard the truck – I knew you were coming.”

Abby frowns and moves a step closer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you know how many of those soldiers downstairs would like to get their hands on you?”

You cock your head to the side, as if you didn’t understand.

“You saved my life once already. I wouldn’t have come if I thought I’d be in danger.”

She scoffs at the presumption that she would betray her people again, but a small voice reminds her that’s exactly what she’d planned to do.

She moves past you to leave but you stop her with a hand laid over her arm. Abby’s jaw tenses at the contact, but when her resentful gaze flickers up to meet yours, she’s met with the same unabashed interest you’d worn before.

“I owe you, wolf. The Prophet commands us to repay those who show mercy.”

You pause before continuing. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

Abby takes a moment to consider. What does she want?

She wants your leader’s head at her feet; she wants to make her friends proud; she wants to understand why she had let you go that night in the storm.

Her eyes trail down to your lips, to the mottled scar etched into your cheek. She wonders what you’d look like without its crooked ridges marring your skin. She wonders how it would feel under her hands.

It catches you both off guard when her parted lips press against yours, teeth clacking together from the fervency of her kiss.

Her hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, though she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away. She grunts into your mouth and slides her other hand around your waist. An unfamiliar heat licks at the base of your spine.

“I want you to thank me for letting you go,” she declares.

Seraphite leaders had spoken on end about the corrupt morals of ‘new world’ adherents, but this was not the danger you’d learned to fear. Abby was unique, addicting, and you wanted more.

You fall to your knees at her feet, almost a mirror image of the night you’d met. This time, however, you’re the one in control.

She hums and rubs the pad of her thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still wet with your spit. “That’s a good start.”

Nimble fingers work open the button of her jeans, shimmying the dark denim down her toned, freckled thighs. Her black boxers follow suit, revealing a smattering of blonde hair trailing down from her naval.

Your hands smooth over her heated skin, palming at her hips in an attempt to pull her closer. She concedes and shuffles forward until her cunt presses to your awaiting mouth and your tongue dips out to taste her.

It’s like nothing either of you have experienced – the guilt of betraying your own people, the trust that comes from such inconceivable circumstances. It’s all too much to comprehend, so you choose to ignore it for the time being.

Abby’s head tips back with a sigh, little breaths and chirps of pleasure pushed from her lungs as your tongue flattens over her clit.

It almost looks like you’re praying, Abby decides. Kneeling in front of your altar, eyes screwed shut, searching for a sign from some divine being. She cards her fingers through your hair and tugs at the roots, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s messy, greedy, downright sinful the way you press your mouth to her. Slick coats your chin and your cheeks, glistening in the dim light streaming through the windows.

You’re spurred on by the way she tilts her hips, the wet squelch of her cunt against your mouth. Her thighs flex against the sides of your face, smothering your cheeks in her arousal.

“Ah- just like that.”

In addition to your tongue roaming everywhere you can reach, your thumb comes up to rub firm circles against her clit. After a moment, you switch positions, dragging your fingers through her slick and dipping two digits inside her.

She gasps at the intrusion and bucks her hips harshly, urging you to move faster. Your fingers curl inside her, driving into that gummy spot at the top of her walls while you suction her clit into your mouth.

“Fuck,” she pants, grinding down on your mouth. “M’gonna come.”

It’s not long before she’s shuddering through her release, choking back a poorly suppressed moan while she fights to keep her eyes open. You continue to work over her mound until she releases your hair from her grip and takes half a step back on shaky legs.

Remembering her earlier request for gratitude, you lean back on your heels and lick the remnants of her slick from your lips.

“Thank you, wolf.”

She looks down as if she’d only just remembered you were there and her eyes sparkle with renewed interest. A lazy smirk tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You gonna stay so I can return the favor?”

[astralflower-writes]

how we met (prequel)

♡ pairing: mark sloan x female! reader

♡ genre: fluff

♡ warnings: slightly suggestive content

♡ read heart like yours here

♡ check out my grey's anatomy masterlist here

"so, let us close our knees and get back to our jobs. so he can get back to his job and help the people that really need it." you heard someone say as you walked towards the main lobby where it seems almost half of the nursing staff was gathered.

after them dispersing to where they're needed. you see two doctors. "hi. i was told to find you, dr. bailey." you said approaching the two of them.

"you are?" dr. bailey asked you. "oh! i'm one of the new relocated interns."

"im y/n y/l/n."

"oh! sorry you had to hear all that, dr. y/l/n."

the other doctor introduced himself. "im dr. mark sloan. head of plastics."

he was attempting a handshake but dr. bailey motioned you the other way and dragging you away and saying you have a lot of catching up and you don't need to be acquainted with dr. sloan.

you gave him a small smile as dr. bailey dragged you into the chief’s office.

you were given a ran down about what you’ll do for the rest of your intern year.

to say that you adjusted quite perfectly in seattle grace was an understatement. you easily became friends with meredith and the other interns.

“look at sloan being all dreamy but y/n still has no idea what’s he doing.” meredith said as she and christina eyes you from the table talking to mark in line to get some food.

“hey dr. y/l/n, can’t say that you have been under my service since you got here.” mark spoke to you sweetly.

“oh yeah, i’ve been mainly under dr. montogemery’s service.” you replied not even giving mark a glance as you grabbed the apple juice.

“see ya later dr. sloan!” bidding him goodbye.

few weeks passed, you were finally under mark’s service, he was giddy to see you asking for his patients’ charts.

“y/n he’s totally flirting with you again.” christina whispered which made you blush and this doesn’t go unnoticed by mark.

“well what do we have here, dr. y/l/n. happy to have you on my service.” he spoke as he smirked at you.

since that day, he pestered you more and grabbed every chance he got to speak with you. when you were assigned in the ER with him as a fellow and he called for you every time.

“heading out now dr. y/l/n?” he said as he got in the elevator with you.

you smiled at and nodded as a reply, you were getting shy as christina and meredith pointed out that mark has been flirting with you since you started to work and you didn’t notice until they pointed it out.

“wanna go grab dinner y/n?” he asked looking at you intently as he anticipated your answer.

“oh…uh sure, dr. sloan”

“just mark” he said smirking.

you started to entertain mark, in which meredith and christina warned you about mark’s history before you arrived.

“i have nothing to loose, if he wants to be with other people then ill leave him be.”

you and mark started to go out more, this started your relationship with mark.

he gave you all of his attention and you gave him yours.

you were sleeping on an on-call room when mark came in. he was quietly calling for you on each on-call room as he wanted to have lunch with you.

he found you, sleeping so soundly.

“hey…babe.”

“come on let’s get lunch.” nudging you to wake up.

you just grumbled and turned your back on him.

“come on they’re serving mashed potatoes today.”

this caught your attention and stood up, you straightened your scrubs and started to head out the door when mark grabbed you by the wrist and captured your lips and started to kiss you deeply.

you returned the gesture which made both of you catch your breaths.

“god, i love you y/n.”

“i won’t ever let you go.”

[writerslittlelibrary]

You should make one where Wanda and nat get taken by the snap and it leaves there 14 year old daughter for her to grow up alone, later when they return there surprised to see her grow up at first they dont even recognize her because she turns out to be a cold badass. You can add some angst of her not being able to trust them and so on. But over time there family dynamic falls back but they notice y/n is hiding something because she always disappears and is seen talking on the phone. One night they think they hear talk in y/n’s room so they wait a few hours before they check it out and its y/n being super cute with her gf. she introduce her gf who helped her through the snap.

5 years is a long time

masterlist requests masterlist

pairing: WandaNat x daughter reader

warnings: grieve, loss, pain

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2093

a/n: thank you so much anon for the request. I love the idea and I hope you like it 🫶

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Tears. That’s all you remember. The endless crying of that night. Your moms had told you they had to leave for a while to fight an important battle. They told you they would be back. They lied. 

You remember Steve coming to your home. The home you grew up in. The home you three had lived in for your entire life. You were excited when you heard the door open. You thought your moms had returned. They hadn’t.

Steve was standing in the door opening, and the look on his face alone was enough to make you cry. So that’s what you did. For the entire night you did nothing but cry. You couldn’t believe your moms would break their promise. You couldn’t believe your moms would never hold you again. 

Steve had taken you out of your home that night. He said he wanted you to stay with him, so you would be safe. He told you it’s what your moms would’ve wanted, but you had no interest in listening to him. You didn’t sleep that night. What happened wouldn’t leave your brain. You were devastated. 

After a few weeks in the compound, you had started feeling angry. The first few days you felt numb, and you supposed feeling angry was better than that, but in reality it wasn’t.

You would ignore Steve. You wouldn’t eat or take care of yourself. All you could be was angry, and you and Steve fought all the time. After two months, you decided to leave. You were a few weeks away from your fifteenth birthday, and Steve was trying to get you excited for it, but you didn’t want to be.

Usually, you would be so excited you couldn’t sleep, but this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Steve talked about it non-stop, and you just couldn’t take it. What was the point in celebrating your birthday if the most important people wouldn't be there?

That was when you decided to leave. 

You found an apartment in Seattle, wanting to be as far away from the compound as you could. That’s where you lived for the past 5 years. You were 19 now, and your life was different than it was when the snap happened.

You used your training to kill. You found that killing people was the only way to ease your anger, ease your thirst for revenge. 

You weren’t proud of it. How could you? Your moms had taught you how to fight to protect, not hurt. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, however. Your moms were gone. There was no reason in thinking about what they would or wouldn’t agree with. 

You were currently sitting on your couch, cleaning some of your knives. You had another successful assignment yesterday and you were exhausted. There was a lot of commotion in the world, and your assignments were flooding. It seemed that suddenly everyone wanted each other dead. You didn’t know why, but then again, you didn’t follow the news.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at your door. Besides Charlie, no one knew where you lived, and she wasn’t set to come home for another few days. 

Hesitantly, you opened your door, and you almost broke at the sight. 

In front of you were two people. Two people who you believed you’d never see again. Wanda gasped, clearly shocked by the wounds you carried on your face. Maybe the fact you’d grown 5 years shocked her too. Natasha just stared. She couldn’t believe it. Their little girl was all grown up, but that isn’t what shocked them the most. 

The emptiness in your eyes did. 

Wanda made the first move to hug you, and in your shock you didn’t react. You hadn’t thought this day would ever come, and now it did. 

Natasha seemed to snap out of her shock, moving to embrace you as well. 

They cried. You didn’t.

When they moved into your apartment you were quick to clean the knives from your coffee table. You were afraid of how they would react. You knew they would be disappointed, but you just weren’t ready for a lecture of them yet. 

Natasha and Wanda stayed in your guest room, and much like the night you lost them, you were awake. You couldn’t sleep, and you knew they wouldn’t be able to either.

The next day Natasha and Wanda had convinced you to move back into their apartment. They kept telling you how sorry they were for leaving, and how they wanted to make up for all the years they lost. You agreed, moving back into your childhood home. You didn’t know how you’d react if they ever were to return, but you never expected to feel so… numb.

You had lived together for a few days now, and you had a hard time trusting them. You fought a few times already, mainly with Natasha. You refused to call them mom and mama again. You just couldn’t. Wanda was just trying to be there for you, while Natasha was more set on getting answers.

You were frustrated. You couldn’t provide your moms with any answers. You didn’t have any. 

Last night you and Natasha fought again, and she yelled at you saying she couldn't recognise you anymore. You were lost. You didn’t know how to react.

All those nights you wished your moms would return to you, and wishing things would go back to the way they were. Now you wished things would go back to the way they were after they disappeared. You didn’t want to face them, and living with them again after so many years proved to be much more difficult than you initially thought. 

Most nights you spend in your room, talking to the only person that stayed the same through all of it. 

You spoke to Charlie most nights. She was the only person you had found comfort with all this time. The only person you felt you could trust, and the only person you felt you could be yourself around.

Charlie lost both of her parents in the snap as well, and when you were on an assignment one day to kill a dangerous man, you had found Charlie in one of the rooms in his house.

She was locked up, and she looked sick. You had taken her home with you, caring for her wounds. She didn’t speak much, only thanking you when appropriate. You didn’t mind much. You were happy you could still do some good. You were both 17 at the time, and you grew close quickly. 

Charlie had told you what happened. How she lost her parents and the man had taken her. You offered her to stay with you, and she agreed. You grew closer quickly, and your friendship soon developed into something more. 

Charlie was the only person you cared about. The only person you could be yourself around. The only person you loved through those years. 

Charlie had reminded you of your humanity, and she never scolded you for doing what you did. 

It’s funny, really. All those nights you spend on your own, in the bed of your new apartment, you longed to be laying in your own bed, with your moms downstairs. Now, while you were lying in the bed of your childhood home, with your moms downstairs, you longed for the nights in your own apartment. Spend watching movies and eating cheap take out with Charlie. 

You hadn’t told your moms about Charlie yet. You didn’t know how to. You didn’t know you wanted to.

Your moms were downstairs, discussing your behavior. Wanda was crying. She felt so incredibly hurt by the fact you called her ‘Wanda’ now. She missed the days you called her mommy. When you would come running downstairs all excited because you had a random thought you felt like Wanda should know. 

Her and Natasha were talking about how you seemed so closed off. So cold. How you were always in your room and how it seemed like you were hiding something.

Tonight, while you were on a call with Charlie, Natasha had decided to check on you, wanting to talk to you about their concerns. When she reached your room, she could hear you talking to someone. She decided not to knock on the door, instead opening it to see you lying on your bed, with your back turned to the door. You didn’t notice she was standing there, to captivated by your phone call.

You were giggling, and Natasha wasn’t sure when she last heard you laugh. 

Natasha just stood there, soaking up your happiness. When you ended the phone call, you told Charlie ‘I love you’, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

When you turned around you were startled, and when you released Natasha was eavesdropping you were upset. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha told you, and you sighed, sitting up in your bed. Natasha sat at the end of your bed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by sitting too close. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it’s just been a while since I’ve seen you laugh.”

“I’m sorry too,” you told her, not wanting to look at her.

“I understand it must’ve been hell for you, and it must have been so confusing, even now we’re back. It’s confusing for us too. A few weeks ago you were our little 14 year old girl, and now you’re all grown up. I’m sorry we don’t know how to help you, and I’m sorry we weren’t there,” Natasha told you with tears in her eyes. 

You sniffled and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a terrible daughter. I was never mad at you. I’m just so angry, and I didn’t know how to handle that,” you explained to her, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Natasha pulled you into a hug, the first you’d had since the night they returned. You cried together, and Wanda, who probably heard the crying, came upstairs and sat next to you on the other side. 

You kept crying, repeating ‘I’m sorry’ until you were so tired you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

You fell asleep in their arms, and when you woke up, they were still there. 

You had all moved down to the kitchen for breakfast, and for the first time in 5 years, you were eating breakfast together, talking. There was no tension, no crying, no fighting and no yelling. Just talking.

“So who was that girl on the phone yesterday?” Natasha suddenly asked you. 

You looked up at her quickly, surprised with her question. “What?” you asked her confused. “Yesterday you were talking on the phone with a girl. You seemed really happy.” 

You looked at your plate, pushing the leftover fruit around on it. “We’re not mad, just curious,” Wanda told you. “Her name’s Charlie. She’s kinda my girlfriend,” you told your moms hesitantly.

You didn’t look at them, but you felt Wanda scooting her chair closer, engulfing you in a hug. “We’re so happy for you!” she exclaimed, and you relaxed in her arms. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Natasha sat down in the chair on the other side of you, rubbing your back. “Where is she now?” Natasha asked. 

“Still in Seattle. We lived together in that apartment,” you told her, sitting up straight again. 

“We should invite her over, if you want too,” Wanda suggested. You nodded. “I’d like that,” 

Two days later Charlie was standing in front of your door again, and she hugged you tight. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured. She nodded, kissing your forehead. 

When she let you go, she noticed your moms standing behind you. Natasha was the first one to introduce herself, telling her it was nice to meet her. Wanda was next, giving her a small hug. 

You had dinner that night, the four of you, and after finding out you had lived together for 2 years, Wanda suggested she should stay for a while. Charlie agreed, and you couldn’t be happier. The night was ended with movies, you in Charlie’s arms, just like all those other nights. The only difference was your moms sitting next to you, smiling at the wonderful young woman you’d grown into. 

[glass-apothecary]

Stand By

Chapter 4 - Kilo

AO3 | Masterlist

Abby sees you in action and learns something about you that you tried to keep hidden.

August 12th, 2035

Abby is 17 years old.

She has been at the stadium for 14 months.

Abby’s dad liked Owen. 

Owen wasn’t one of his students, but he was assigned to Abby’s Firefly unit so they were around each other a lot. Abby liked Owen too. He was funny. He didn’t have that rage in him that a lot of men had. He felt safe. 

He held her while she reached for her father’s corpse. He’d played interference when people wanted to offer Abby their condolences. He didn’t speak for her, but he stood up for her when she didn’t have the strength. And on the road to Seattle, he let her take it out on the corpses of infected and didn’t judge her for it. He had lost his family before Utah. He knew how it felt

And in return, she let him kiss her. It wasn’t bad, just… clinical. It was nice, for someone to want you. She felt valuable when she was with him. Abby didn’t realize just how much she was going through the motions until she started spending more time with you.

It was movie night. Everyone from Salt Lake was there minus Leah, who was on duty. You were all packed together in their room fighting over popcorn while the lead actress confessed her love in the rain. 

Abby was sitting between you and Owen. When the two actors in the movie kissed and the music swelled, Owen put his hand on Abby’s knee. Objectively she knew that was sweet, and she didn’t let herself think about it past that, sweet. 

Abby had invited you for two reasons. First, the two of you had become friends in record time and she wanted to spend more time with you. Second, You had been working through the night recently and you needed some off time. They had been looking for someone to cover the radio on night shift but so far no one could figure out your shorthand and people kept screwing up the channel settings.

So it was no surprise when you started nodding off during the movie’s third act miscommunication. And Abby had to admit, it was kind of cute, the way you tried to fight through it. When your head fell softly against her shoulder and you let out a small puff of air, Abby had this feeling. Like excitement, but more internal. A fuzziness in her chest. Like when you’re holding an impossibly small kitten. Every muscle in her body tensed with the effort to stay still, to not disturb you. 

When the movie finally ended and everyone started getting up to leave, you woke up. 

“Oh shit, Abbs I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I- ” you were cut off, startled by the buzz from your walkie.

“Tower, come in. This is Kilo. Towe-” the voice cut off, they sounded frantic. Abby sat up. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. You did that sometimes, switching from calm to serious the moment a transmission came through.

Silence on the other line. 

“Go ahead, Squad Kilo. Are you in need of assistance?”

Leah was on Squad Kilo. Abby felt sick.

You stood, rushing toward the door as quickly as you could in your post-sleep haze. Abby followed. She wanted to help but she knew she shouldn’t get in the way. And god! How were you so calm? 

Abby noticed in her periphery that Mel and Nora split off to go to the infirmary and that Manny, Owen, and Jordan were taking her lead and following you to the tower.

“-oldiers down, Tower. Immediate evac requested!” there was commotion on the other end. Something that sounded like gunshots. 

You were at the elevator now and Abby watched you pause before running to the stairwell instead.

“Roger that, what’s your 20,” you said.

Confused, Abby followed you, motioning for the rest of the gang to take the elevator. 

Abby knew you weren’t the most athletic person in the stadium, she had really only seen you move quickly when the kitchen was serving those garlic butter things you liked. So she was truly astonished to see you book it up the stairs like someone’s life depended on it. Maybe someone’s life did. 

As Abby reached the landing a step behind you, she saw everyone else had already made it there. So the elevator was faster, why had you taken the stairs? Abby wasn’t an angry person, or at least she didn’t think she was. There were a few people she’d had a reason to be mad at. Her boyfriend, on occasion, her friends when they treated her like a child despite being her age. But she had never been mad at you, so it came as quite a shock when her brow furrowed in consternation over your dumb choice. A dumb, time-wasting choice you made while Leah was in danger.

You moved past everyone to the map table with the walkie still in your hand. What followed was a series of coordinates and street names you had to ask them to repeat twice. Once you located it, you sighed with relief. 

“Squad Kilo, there is a safe house the next block over. The old warehouse. Can you make it there?”

Silence, while you waited for a response. Abby was buzzing; with anger at you, with fear for her friend, and with something else as she admired your one-minded focus. 

“Copy, Tower. We should be able to make it.”

“Good. Squad Apollo should be in that area. Stand by,” you switched channels to speak with who Abby assumed was squad Apollo. 

There was a break in the commotion as Leah’s team was moving to the warehouse and squad Apollo was shipping out to meet them. 

Her friends had been heatedly whispering to each other while she had been looking at you and their conversation was growing louder to fill the science. It was Jordan’s voice Abby heard first. 

“I’m going out there!” he protested, pushing at Manny’s chest. 

“Don’t be stupid, man. There’s nothing you can do. You really think you can move faster than Apollo squad?” Manny was trying to talk Jordan down and Owen wasn’t helping.

“Manny, Leah’s in trouble. I don’t want him to go either but if it was Abby, you couldn’t stop me.”

That pissed Abby off. There were a lot of things Owen did to annoy her. Holding his hand at the small of her back when they were walking like she needed guidance, kissing her in public like she was an accessory, bringing up her dad when she was upset with him, but this… Acting like she was better than everyone else, different. Like she deserved to have someone risk their life for her?

“Owen-” Abby gave him a look she had given him before. A look that meant stand down and we’ll talk about this later. 

She looked at Jordan.

Abby knew that feeling. Knowing something was wrong. Knowing someone you love is in danger, and rushing towards it anyway because what else can you do? She saw the energy in his body, like a coiled spring. She put her hand on his shoulder and said something that maybe only the two of them would understand. A choice she hadn’t had the chance to make.

“If this goes really bad… If she dies, Jordan,” she saw him flinch and caught his eyes again. “Do you want to be running around trying to find her or do you want to tell her how much you love her, even if it’s over the radio?”

She watched the reality weigh down on him as he considered. But she knew he was listening to reason now so she simply repeated what Manny said and what Jorden already knew. 

“You’re not going to reach her before Apollo does. But you can be here for her.”

Jordan nodded solemnly. With emotion in his eyes and the detached stature of a soldier, he went to stand next to you. Abby watched as you nodded at him and handed him an extra transmission microphone, giving him soft directions and telling him not to speak unless he needed to. You looked at her with appreciation and Abby almost smiled back.

The next twenty minutes were tense. Sporadic messages updating you, and you acting as the intermediary so the teams could communicate. Once you were given the all clear that they were on their way back to the stadium you sighed, collapsing back into your chair, sending the boys downstairs to wait for the rescue team to arrive with Leah.

Abby spoke up then, “I, could you ask… Were there any casualties?” 

“I did, earlier. I was using shorthand though,” You looked at her with characteristic patience despite your exhaustion, “No WLF deaths. A few injuries, one critical.”

“Right,” of course you’d asked. 

She shouldn’t have said that. Stupid.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, laying a hand on Abby’s. “We’ll know soon. Actually, let's go down to intake so we catch them on their way in, yeah?” you sighed, getting up from the chair like you’d miss it.

God you were sweet. 

“Yeah,” Abby replied, before remembering she was supposed to be mad at you. 

“Why didn’t you take the elevator?” she asked, her anger building up before you could answer. “Leah could have died. Do you not care?”

Abby knew you cared. Of course you did. But she couldn’t stop that bitterness from rising in her chest. She trusted you, but she could be wrong. She couldn’t trust her own idea of you. Maybe you were just in the right place at the right time for her to project her loneliness onto.

She couldn’t look at you because she knew if she did, she’d fold. 

You didn’t reply right away, which made Abby feel dumb, like the answer was obvious and she just hadn’t gotten it. 

You sighed and took her hand, “Abby, sometimes I lose signal in the elevator. The entire stadium is made of concrete, which is why the tower is up so high, but the elevator is worse. Concrete and steel. I made a split second decision; either lose signal in the elevator and miss something important, or make it to the tower a couple seconds later with all the information I need.”

When she met your eyes, she felt… guilt. You were so tired. She could see the shadows under your eyes. And more than that, she could see the weight of this job. Someone always needed help, and the only thing you could do was listen. She wondered then, how often you had done this, how many times had it gone the other way, how many times had you listened to someone die? 

You were so young, you both were. Abby had no words, so she just held you.

Leah was hurt, badly. 

When you arrived at the med bay, she was already in surgery. Over the past year, Abby hadn’t told you much about her time in Salt Lake, but you knew she avoided the infirmary. The waiting room was crowded, all of Leah’s friends from Utah and the many people she’d gotten close with once she got to the stadium were all packed into a small room with uncomfortable benches. You were beyond exhausted but you wanted to be there for Abby. Every ounce of will you possessed was being used to keep your eyes open and your head straight. You couldn’t tell if the fluorescents were helping keep you awake or just giving you a headache.

Instead of closing your eyes, you catalogued the range of emotion in the waiting room. Manny was talking to Jordan in hushed tones, whatever he was saying must have been helping because Jordan seemed more scared than reckless, which was an improvement. Leah’s squad members that had already been medically cleared were, similarly to you, just trying to stay awake. Abby was staring straight ahead, her leg bouncing at an unforgiving pace. She didn’t seem to see Owen who was sitting a few feet away, trying to catch her gaze. Between Abby’s nervous energy, the lights, and the low murmur of tension, you were well on your way to a migraine. 

“Abby, my room isn’t far from here, do you want to wait there? I can have someone radio me with any updates,” you offered. 

Abby looked at you. At first, she was openly relieved at the alternative offered, but her look was quickly swallowed by shame.

“I… shouldn’t,” she looked around at her friends. 

“Look Abbs, if you want to stay, I won’t blame you, but Leah won’t be able to have any visitors until tomorrow anyway,” you laid a gentle hand on her still bouncing knee, “And your nervous energy isn’t helping.”

You spoke gently, non-judgmentally. You just wanted Abby to take a moment for herself, let herself feel grief and anger and fear without letting them become her. 

You watched the tension leave her face as she decided to stop fighting herself and trust you. You stood and let one of the med assistants know to radio you if anything changed and went to gather Abby. 

You were about to leave when a low authoritative voice behind you spoke your name. The voice made you freeze in your tracks. And from what you could see, everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing and stood, or sat as the case may be, at attention. 

You turned to face Issac.

“Hello, dear Niece.”

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 4 [Mack x David]

A/N: *inhales and exhales heavily* Here we go.

I'm sorry...... & good luck. Would love it if you came to talk to me in my asks about this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

Rangers Looking To Make Moves, David Carlson could be one of them.

Insider Sources Hint at Huge Deal Between Stars and Rangers.

Rangers In Search Of Forward Depth: Potential Move Involving David Carlson?

“Mack? Ready in about five?” Her editor, Sonja, asks as she power walks by Mack’s cubicle. 

“Yep.” Mack answers back absentmindedly. She is currently scrolling through her newsfeed, scanning the ballooning elephant of David’s trade rumors. 

Mack tried to talk herself out of looking, but she hasn’t been able to put her phone away. Social media is a dangerous drug. Mack considers herself an expert navigator, but these rumors involve her life outside of 280 characters. The line between reality and rumor has begun to blur. While this happens in her brain, David says nothing. He probably has his reasons, but Mack can’t help but feel betrayed. Why isn’t he talking to her about this? Doesn’t he trust her? This feels like something they should be talking about, even Lucie said as much at breakfast last week.

Mack finishes reading over the comments of speculation. The rumors seem to be trending towards Dallas or Seattle. Mack’s stomach drops out when she realizes how far away both those options are.

“Ready?” Andrew, her colleague asks. Mack nods, putting her phone into her desk and gathering her notebook. The entire walk to the glass enclosed conference room, Mack tries to shed her personal life. Normally, she steps over that threshold and she can become whoever she needs to be to tell a story. Not today.

Today, Mack is quiet, listening to her team members add productive discussion for next quarters issues. Several locations are floated around that should make Mack excited and jumping to go for them. None of them do. Instead, she finds her focus trailing out the window to the building across the street. The world moves around her, but Mack feels stuck in place. Her least favorite thing.

“Mack, how is your hand not up?” Cecilia, another team member, asks. Mack turns back to her.

“What? Sorry?” Mack’s eyes divert to Sonja who looks back at Mack with a neutral face.

“Would you like to volunteer for Ireland?” Sonja repeats.

Mack has been dying to go to Ireland. There is so much to do there, so many different directions she could take her story, and although she has lived in and traveled all over Europe, she hasn’t made it there yet. She is constantly chatting with her coworkers about how she wants to do a story there. But now her hand stays in her lap. How could she leave the country with it being such tumultuous times at home? What if she leaves and David is traded? Coming back to New York and him not being here would slice her open. 

“When?” 

“Three weeks, but you could go as early as Thursday if you want more exploring time.”

“Oh. Um.” She anxiously rubs at her thighs. “I-”

“You could go after Cabo too.” Sonja answers. Cabo is the Allstar trip she has put together for the Rangers with recommendations from her colleagues. Everything is scheduled including a huge house right on the water. It has multiple pools, a hot tub, a private beach, and exclusive access to the Yacht club. 

“I’m gonna have to say no.” She hears herself say. WHAT!?She shakes off her inner demon who wants to launch a ‘just kidding’. Her whole team looks back at her with surprise. “I just need to stick around here right now. If that’s okay? I’ll take something close.” 

“We have that story on hidden gems in America? A lot of them are on the East Coast. Easily day trips.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Mack answers with enthusiasm she doesn’t actually feel.

The meeting moves on, but Mack can’t. Did she really just turn down Ireland for New Hampshire? With everyone’s assignments in hand, the meeting ends. Again, Mack is slow to react. Sonja stays behind.

“Are you okay?” She asks when it’s only the two of them. “You are not yourself.”

“I am a bit distracted.” 

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. Thanks for letting me stick around though.” Sonja laughs, shrugging.

“Something is definitely up if you’re missing out on Ireland. Let me know how I can support you, okay?”

Mack nods then Sonja power walks off to her next meeting. After swiping her phone from her drawer, Mack avoids sitting down at her cubical and heads straight to the bathroom at the back of the office. She walks into the last stall, letting her back hit the cool tile. Mack’s head finds her hands, awkwardly shoving her nose to the side due to her phone.

What the hell is happening to me?

Her phone starts to vibrate against her face. She pulls back, seeing David’s picture.

“Hello?” She answers quickly.

“Hi, are you home?”

“No.” Worry settles into her voice.

“Oh okay, no worries. I left my wallet at your place. Just figured it out, now Woody is buying me lunch.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, you can go grab it after lunch?”

“Okay, can I wait for you to get home too? Kinda miss ya.” 

“Yeah.” Mack smiles to herself. 

“I’ll take a look at your bathroom sink too. The water pressure is horseshit.”

“I put in a maintenance request.”

“Why? They didn’t fix it right last time? I hope they come up while I’m working on it so I can teach them what to do.”

“Please don’t.” Mack sighs, but she can’t help a little giggle.

“When will you be home?” He asks her. Mack can hear traffic whizzing by him as he presumably walks along a sidewalk.

“Probably a few hours.” She mumbles. 

“Alright. I’ll entertain myself.” He assures her.

When Mack gets home, she realizes that means he cleaned her entire apartment, fixed her sink, and has dinner in the oven. 

“Wow…” Mack trails off as she walks in. She puts her work bag on the counter and smiles at him by the stove. “Thank you. I haven’t had much time to clean.” She murmurs.

“I know.” He nods, toweling off his hands with the one over this shoulder. “I’ve been keeping you at my place a lot. I figure if I created the problem, I should clean it up.” He puckers his lips for her. “Hi.” He greets her after their kiss.

“Hi.” She smiles. It doesn’t quite brighten up her face or reach her eyes, which David takes notice of.

“You okay?” He tilts his head at her.

“Yeah. Tired.” She lies. 

Well, maybe not fully. She is tired, but the things that are keeping her up at night are things she could be discussing with him. Yet, Mack believes that if he wanted to talk to her about any of this, he would have already. She swallows hard, trying to will the anxious energy in her body away. David’s hands on her hips hold her in place when she tries to move around him. 

“I’m not believing that.” He smiles sympathetically. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Mack nods. She brushes her hand over his stomach as she walks past. She heads to the fridge to grab a sparkling water from inside. David watches her as she cracks the cap open, taking down a few gulps. She hiccups as she pulls the bottle down from her lips. “Why don’t you go change? That outfit looks great, but you should be comfy with the weather we are having.” He points to the window where sheets of snow fall down. 

“Oh that escalated.” Mack murmurs. She walks to the window, looking out at the droves of swirling snow flakes. She sighs, happy to be in here watching it than still commuting home.

“Mack.” David calls softly to her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Go.” He encourages her, head tilted towards the hallway. She nods again, doing as he asks and wandering down to her bedroom. 

She knows she is spacey and acting weird. But she isn’t quite sure how to act with him right now. A giant elephant is sitting on her chest and he is behaving like everything is normal. Mack quickly changes into a soft sweatsuit in a sage color. She pulls her hair back into a pony tail, then pulls on new, warm socks with reindeer faces on them that her mom put into her Christmas stocking.  When she walks into the main area again, the TV is playing local news. The sports section is on but it rolls through without any mention of David, other than his goal a few nights ago, the last time the team played.

“It’s weird you’ve had so many days off.” Mack says, leaning against the counter by the bar stools. 

“Yeah. I hate it.” David shakes his head. He pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Spatchcock chicken and asparagus.”

“Fancy.” Mack smiles at him. He stares back at her. 

“Why are you over there? C’mere.”

“You’re so sensitive today.” Mack rolls her eyes. “If you wanna cuddle just ask. No need to get grumpy that I’m standing across the room from you.” She tries to keep her tone light, but it’s a little snippy.

“Kay, get over here I want to cuddle.” He begrudges. Him and Mack both know she is deflecting. She doesn’t want him looking at her too closely right now.

Mack walks across the kitchen, sliding her arms around his waist. David crushes her into his chest and she can’t help but melt into him. Her shoulders drop, jaw unclenches, and mind quiets completely. The trade rumors dissipate. The worry about what could happen to them floats away. It’s just the two of them holding each other in her kitchen. David’s hand smooths over her pony tail, then begins to rub long strokes up and down her back. Mack turns her nose more into his chest. David tightens his grip on her, then drops his mouth to her hair.

It’s clear they both needed this hug. 

They don’t break away until the timer for the chicken goes off. David pulls it out. As it rests, he roasts the asparagus. Mack puts together a salad with leftover vegetables in the fridge. Then they sit down and eat dinner together with a glass of wine each. When it’s over, Mack and David move through the apartment in sync, cleaning up the main space. As the dishwasher roars to life, Mack flips all the lights off and takes David’s hand to lead him down to her room. 

There, they make love to each other. It’s soft and slow, filled with gentle smooches and quiet moans of pleasure. Afterwards, they tangle their limbs together. David falls asleep first, surprising to Mack. She studies his face as he sleeps, seeing the lines on his face soften in his slumber. With David out, a familiar monster begins to awaken inside of her. 

It comes out in the quiet, darkness of night. It confuses her and brings back all the things that had melted away when she was in David’s arms. A huge lump fills her throat. She rolls over to her other side. Doing so makes David’s hand fall off her hip. A cold shiver rolls through Mack as she buries her nose into the pillow case beneath her face. 

During sex tonight, David had murmured really sweet things to her. He told her he loved her. He told her how beautiful she looked today. He told her how much he missed her while they ran through their different, separate days, that the world gets quiet when she is in his arms. But he didn’t say anything about the rumors that swirl around him in his professional life. Every time he has an opportunity to tell her and he doesn’t, Mack can feel herself retreat a little more. 

Right before he drifted to sleep, David had sleepily murmured that he couldn’t wait until they find a place together. The memory of that now has a single tear dragging down Mack’s cheek.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like her and David are on the same page. He is already thinking about them moving in together. She’s never thought of that. She’s never thought of anything beyond the current day with him. Now he sees a future for them that Mack isn’t sure she wants this way. A future outside of New York isn’t of interest to her. If David isn’t in New York, there is nothing tying them together anymore, therefore if he leaves New York nothing ties him to her anymore. 

Meanwhile, she has stupidly turned down assignments to stay with him. Her brain is consumed of thoughts of him even when she is away. Panic begins to thread through Mack’s body. She’s too in love with him. This is all way more than she signed up for. She never wanted this. He’s changed her entire life and she went along with it.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have let it go this far?

Mack rolls to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears race from the corners of her eyes, falling into her ear canals. This has gone too far. She can’t do this with him. With perfect timing as always, her monster starts to whisper:

You’ll never be able to keep him. You can’t pretend all the time to be good enough for him anyway.

Mack shudders at the words that slice deep into her soul. She wipes her tears then wills herself to sleep. 

In the morning, this will all look different. She is sure of that. 

Long before the sunlight streams into her room, David awakens her to make love again. He is above her, dragging his cock through her core with soft strokes that set her on fire. When she shudders through her orgasm, he fills her up with his own, then collapses into the bed next to her. As his breathing evens out, he brings her into his side, holding her close to him.

“I’m excited about our future.” David murmurs, fingers getting slower. “We’re gonna give Lucie and Connor a run for their money.” He kisses the top of her head. 

Guilt swirls through Mack’s body. 

David continues planning for a future with her while she is choking in fight or flight. 

A tear slides silently down her cheek. David’s soft breathing behind her tells her he has fallen back to sleep. 

Mack blinks more tears down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling.

He deserves so much better than this. So much better than her. Those words are no longer the dark monster from before. Instead they’re just the truth.

And she’s going to make sure he is free to find what he deserves.

In his arms, attempting to memorize his touch, she starts to make her plans. The Ireland assignment comes to mind.

On Thursday, she’ll go there. Do what she was always going to do.

Run.

Or fly… like the humming bird he compares her to.

He won’t be surprised. He’ll be hurt, sure. But he’ll move on. He has to.

She tells herself this is all for his freedom. 

But deep down, the monster reminders her its for her own.

- - - & - - -

(David)

On Thursday, David looks down at the burger he ordered, mouth salivating at the big, half pound patty dripping cheese and bacon grease. Now this is a damn burger. One he might even find in his home state. Props to the place for sticking to the owner’s midwestern roots. He assess the sandwich, deciding two hands on this one would probably be best.

“That looks fire.” Connor murmurs. He opted for a French Dip sandwich and fries. 

Between the two of them, there isn’t a green vegetable in sight. 

“I’m going to crush this.” David confirms. He unrolls his silverware set, putting the napkin in his lap just in case some drippage misses his plate. Connor does the same.

“I’m so excited to have beef. Haven’t been able to have it at home since…” Connor trails off. David raises an eyebrow. Connor grins then shakes his head. “I can’t tell ya.”

“Slut.”

“Can’t get enough of her, man. Don’t act like you don’t get it.” 

David smirks. He does get it. In fact, he almost cancelled on this lunch so he could stay home and bury himself between Mack’s thighs again and again. But Mack said she had to get some work done, so here he is for the second time in two days eating lunch with his D partner. Mack and David had transitioned over to his place last night to meet up with the Woods. He loves that she is comfortable working from his place when he isn’t there.

David swipes a tater tot through some ketchup then pops it into his mouth. He hopes by the time he gets home Mack is doing better. She was weird when he left this morning, weird last night too. He is glad they have some time together before he goes on the road this weekend. Mack has an assignment in New York that is keeping her home with him during that time. All he wants to do is go to the rink, order glutinous take out and fuck. 

Connor hulks down a huge bite of his sandwich as David digs into his burger. He needs his napkin immediately, swiping it across his covered lips. 

“So how you doing with everything, man?” 

David swallows.

“What do you mean?” He asks, then goes in for a second bite.

“With the rumors.”

“Oh. I’m not listen.” David dismisses. “I can’t worry about that shit and play. It’s too hard.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same. Where are you at with your contract?”

“Doug said we would talk about it after the season. My agent doesn’t think here is any concern. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for the bank.”

“No, but get what you’re worth. I need you around here with me. Can’t handle the Hischier girls by myself.” David chuckles. Silence fills the space between them as they both take a few more bites. “How is Mack taking it all?”

David pauses mid-chew. He shakes his head slightly, then answers when he swallows.

“We haven’t talked about it since none of it is true.”

Connor looks up quickly from his fries. They hover in his pile of ketchup as alarming blue eyes look across the table at David.

“Yeah, but you warned her and everything right?”

David’s tongue runs along his back molars as an awkward silence fills the table.

No, he didn’t.

“I mean, no? She knows that shit out there isn’t true.”

“Sure, but you told her that right?” Connor clarifies, pointing at the center of David’s chest.

David stares back at his defensive partner. Slowly, Connor’s mouth falls into a cringe.

“That is not the person to leave in the dark on those rumors, man.”

As if Connor’s words are the final puzzle, it all clicks for David. The way Mack was this morning. How she turned away from him immediately after sex last night. How quiet she has been, almost to the point of calculated. His heart hammers to a stop in his chest then a big intake of air raises his huge shoulders.

“Oh FUCK!” He yells. 

She’s running.

He knows it and the awareness cools his blood, sending a chill down his spine.

“What?” Connor asks, concern etching his brows together.

“She wanted me to go to lunch with you so she can run. I’ve gotta go, Woody.”

In a calmer moment, David would pull out his wallet and throw down a few bills. But a glance at his phone tells him he doesn’t have time. He’s been gone for over a half hour. She might already be packed and he’s gotta stop her. His long, athletic stride carries him the five blocks back to his place. He rushes by Philip without a greeting, then pounds the up button on the elevator.

“Come on!” He shouts when it takes too long. He eyes the stairwell, but his heart might explode if he runs up all those flights of stairs. The doors open and he almost barrels over a couple and their kid as he rushes in. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing the button for his floor, then the ‘close door’ one repeatedly until it does. He bounces on his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he attempts to catch his breath. The doors open, he flies into the hallway, not seeing her. He tries the door on his place and finds it open. 

Fuck, he hopes she is still here. 

“Mack!” He yells. 

No answer. 

His sneakers slap hard against the wood floors as he heads down the hallway. He can see her pony tail floating in the doorway. Instant relief flowing through him.

She’s still here. 

His relief is short lived when he walks forward and sees her packed suitcase on the bed.

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

Mack is zipping up her suitcase when she hears the apartment door open. Her gaze snaps to the doorway. David’s hurried foot steps rush down the hallway. She frowns, then goes back to stuffing her phone charger into the side pocket. This is not ideal, but she planned for it. She is ready for this interaction. Ready for him to beg her to stay here with him and prepared with an army of reasons why they are never going to work, now or in the future. 

“Mack, stop packing.” He calls to her from the hallway. Mack freezes. Of course he already knows. She keeps going, putting the suitcase on its wheels. They meet at the door of his bedroom. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I talked to management. None of this is real. I’m not being traded.” Disappointment has Mack sighing internally. She wishes he had told her this days ago.

“Okay.” Mack shrugs, keeping a blank face. David frowns. His eyes move to the right, looking over his room. Every single thing of hers is gone, down to the collection of hair ties on her side of the bed. “I’m heading out of town for awhile on a long assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” David chews on the inside of his cheek, searching her face. He shakes his head slightly, looking confused and hurt.

“Mack, what are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She swallows hard, hating the way her voice wobbles slightly.

“You’re going out of town. Why do you need your house slippers?” He motions to where they used to sit by the door.

“Because I want them at my place.”

“So, you going out of town means you aren’t going to keep anything here either?”

“I don’t see the point to that.” Mack shrugs. “Like I said, I am heading out on a long assignment. I’m going to be gone for awhile. I’m not sure when I will be back, so I’m taking everything with me.” 

“What?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

“Ireland.”

“Since when? You just told me two nights ago you were here in New York through the Allstar break, and suddenly you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time?”

“Yeah. That’s this business.” She says flatly, unemotional. David shakes his head.

“What is happening?” He whispers, getting closer to her. He reaches out for her cheek and Mack immediately pulls away. “Is this about a few nights ago? I didn’t mean-“

“No. It’s not. But that was a reminder to me how… different we are. And I think we should be realistic about our shelf life.” David’s eyebrows furrow together. That hurt him. Mack looks away, not wanting to see the sting on his face.

This is inevitable, the monster reminds herself. She’s just pulling the plug before they go back to hating each other and make this harder for everyone around them.

“Shelf life?” He sighs heavily, stepping aside for her to pass by him. He is hot on her heels into the main area of his place. “What the fuck, Mack? We love each other.” 

“For now.” She shrugs her shoulder, going to her purse and double checking she grabbed everything she needed from the main area. She finds her water bottle and phone where she put them a few minutes ago. She’s officially packed. Mack grabs the key to his place, trying to ignoring the light up, corn key chain and the way it burns her skin in her hand. “I can give you your key back.”

“Stop.” David snaps, enclosing her hand with his. He grabs the keys out of her hands. He shakes his head, looking at her, panic all over his face. “Just…” He licks his lips, looking out at the city. “Talk to me.” 

“I am. You don’t like what I’m saying.” She retorts. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. We literally had an incredible night and I make a comment about how I’m excited to move in together someday, and you’re running now? What are you afraid of?” He emphasizes the last line at her, pausing with his hands out to the side. The Iowa keychain in his hand is blinking red, green and blue. Mack stares at it, pursing her lips. A huge lump swells in her throat. She tries to swallow but can’t. 

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What?”

“You and me. So I think we should.” She moves her hands apart. “Go in different directions.” 

Stunned, David straightens. He blinks, trying to absorb the blow of her words. He runs the hand without her keys in it through his hair then blows out a heavy sigh. His hand roughly rubs at the stubble from where he shaved his beard off yesterday, leaving only his signature mustache. Mack blinks off the slight hitch of his breathing on the inhale. 

“Okay.” He nods his head, taking another deep breath. 

David stands on the other side of the island, green eyes intense with emotion as he pins her to the cabinets behind her. He shakes his head then stands to his full height. The keys in his hand slide across the counter to her. They skid to a stop next to her right hand. His arms cross over his chest.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back then.”

“David.” Mack rolls her eyes, throwing the keys into her purse.

Why won’t he let her go easily? How can’t he see what she sees? How different they are? How this started with them hating each other and grew into this thing that was never supposed to happen? How she isn’t meant for this WAG, farm wife, American lifestyle that he wants? She needs to be free- wings wide open so she can breathe. Not turning down assignments and worrying about moving to Dallas.

David doesn’t say anything else to her, just stares her down. Mack can tell he is holding everything he can inside. For her benefit or his, she can’t tell.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She reiterates.

“Okay.” He is eerily calm now.

“So we should go separate ways.” 

“No.” He says clearly and assertively. “You wanna run from me, baby? Then just run. Go. But when you’re done with that, and you come back home, I’ll still be here, loving you. You can move your shit back in then too.”

Mack swallows, looping her arm through the handles of her bags, looking down at them because she can’t look at him. 

“It’s for the best.” She repeats. 

“Mack. I love you. So much.” He whispers, words rough and callused like his hands from working the farm his whole life. The words sound painful as if they rip up his body when he says them. Nothing like the ones he whispered to her last night when they made love. 

It almost gets her to stay.

She hesitates for three more seconds, but her mind screams go. So she does.

“Goodbye, David.” 

He puts his head in his hands as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. She can hear his heavy, uncontrolled breathing behind her until the closed door cuts them off. 

Mack doesn’t breathe the entire ride down the elevator. A numbness comes over her as she tries to convince herself to keep moving forward. She thought she would feel better after doing this. That she was holding them back, him mostly, and cutting the tie would give her back that feeling of freedom she craves. The freedom that he deserves too.

All she feels now is dead inside.

Mack walks out of the building, strutting across the sidewalk with her hand high in the air to hail down a cab. She isn’t sure how her feet are moving so fluidly with how violently she shakes.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hischier.” Philip calls cheerfully behind her.

“Bye!” She calls, waving over her shoulder. She can’t turn around. If she turns around, her feet are going to go right back through that door. 

And she just can’t.

This is not who she is.

She isn’t a WAG. She isn’t a farmer’s girlfriend. She isn’t anywhere close to wife material or a forever kind of girl.

She is a runner. A lone wolf. Who should have taken that elevator home a year ago instead of jumping into bed with her brother-in-law’s teammate. 

The words continue on like a self-deprecating mantra she can’t silence. 

David deserves better. He deserves a wife. Someone who wants to settle into that small country life with him, or in Dallas, and stands next to him through the storm. Not someone who can only see this working if all the cards are stacked in their favor.

Mack, I love you. So much. His voice rings through her brain.

“Fuck.” Mack sobs, shakily trying to breathe in the back of the cab as it pulls away from him. 

Over her heart, her fingers clutch his number on her neck. She pulls, snapping the necklace off her body.

“Ow.” She whispers to herself as her head falls back to the head rest.

If this was what she needed to do, then why does it hurt this damn bad?

Read more Mack and David here.

[adrealucia]

enemies to lovers with sean? 🫶🫶

I am going to be really honest this was fucking hard. I love enemies to lovers but it is so difficult to really bring out the tension in a short drabble like this. But still thank you so so much for the req and I hope you like what I did here :)

Canvas of Conflicts

The sun hung low over the Seattle skyline, casting long shadows through the windows of the art department at Blackwell University. Sean Diaz stood in front of a large canvas, his hands stained with a mix of acrylics. He was deep in his zone, creating a piece that blended surrealism with street art—a signature of his evolving style.

Across the room, you sat hunched over your laptop, typing furiously. Your focus was on an in-depth analysis of Baroque art for your Art History presentation. The sharp clacking of keys was the only sound that could rival the scratch of Sean's brush on the canvas.

The class was a melting pot of creative minds, and your professor often encouraged debates. But when it came to you and Sean, these debates often turned into heated arguments.

“Diaz, you can't just slap some paint on a canvas and call it art,” you snapped, glancing up from your screen. “There's no substance, no historical context!”

Sean paused, turning to face you with a smirk. “And you can't just analyze art to death, Y/N. Sometimes it's about feeling, not just thinking.”

The tension between you two was palpable, sparking almost every class. It wasn't just a clash of specializations—it was personal. You both carried an undercurrent of competition that bled into every interaction, whether it was a classroom debate or a chance encounter at a campus party.

One evening, the head of the department, Professor Henderson, called both of you into her office. Her stern expression was enough to make you both fall silent.

“I’m assigning you two to work together on the upcoming art exhibition,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your task is to combine your skills—Sean’s fine art and Y/N’s historical analysis—to create a cohesive presentation. I expect nothing less than excellence.”

The news hit like a bombshell. As you exited her office, you and Sean exchanged a look of mutual disbelief and dread.

“Great,” Sean muttered sarcastically. “Just what I needed.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

The next few days were filled with awkward meetings and forced politeness as you brainstormed ideas. It was clear neither of you were thrilled about the partnership. However, as the deadline loomed, the gravity of the task began to sink in.

One late night in the studio, surrounded by sketches and notes, a breakthrough finally came. Sean was experimenting with a new technique, layering colors in a way that seemed chaotic yet intentional. You watched, intrigued despite yourself.

“Try using a bit of chiaroscuro,” you suggested cautiously, stepping closer. “It might help highlight the depth.”

To your surprise, Sean didn’t snap back. Instead, he nodded, adding a darker hue to the canvas. The effect was immediate, adding a new dimension to his work.

“Not bad, Y/N,” he admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You smiled slightly, feeling the ice between you begin to thaw. “Thanks. And I have to admit, your work has a certain raw energy that’s hard to ignore.”

As nights turned into early mornings, the studio became a place of shared ideas and mutual respect. You found yourself laughing at Sean’s jokes, and he began to listen to your critiques without defensiveness. The friction that once defined your interactions gave way to a synergy that neither of you had anticipated.

One night, as you both sat on the floor amidst scattered sketches, Sean handed you a cup of coffee. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Maybe we’re not so different after all. We both want to understand art, just in our own ways.”

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I guess we do. And maybe… just maybe, we can learn from each other.”

The final days before the exhibition were a blur of activity. You and Sean worked tirelessly, fine-tuning every detail. The end result was a stunning fusion of artistic expression and historical context, each element enhancing the other.

On the night of the exhibition, as you stood side by side in front of your collaborative masterpiece, the applause from the crowd felt like a distant echo. You turned to Sean, your heart pounding.

“We did it,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face.

Sean’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “Yeah, we did.”

In that moment, the competitive tension that had defined your relationship melted away, replaced by something warmer, something more profound. As the evening wore on, you found yourselves gravitating closer, the unspoken feelings finally surfacing.

Later, as you walked together under the soft glow of the campus lights, Sean reached for your hand. “You know, Y/N, I’ve grown to really appreciate your perspective. And… well, I’ve grown to appreciate you.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart swelling with affection. “Same here, Sean.”

And as the night enveloped you both, the journey from rivals to partners, and finally to something more, felt like the most beautiful piece of art either of you had ever created.

[oneshotnewbie]

Hey wondering if you could do another Natasha Ross fic. Loved the first you did when I requested. Again I give you full creative liberty because how good you did last time.

Authors note: Ugh, there are no gifs of Natasha Ross. I hate it!! But here you have a slightly different story of Natasha, which doesn't really have much to do with Station 19 and might even be considered as an au? I'm sorry if it doesn't suit your taste- it was the first thing I thought of when I read your request 😊

Summary: Natasha is recruited by a secret government agency to take part in an undercover operation dealing with arson and terrorism in Seattle. You are an investigator, or rather a former soldier, who is assigned to help her.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The smoke rose in thick clouds into the Seattle evening sky and the pungent smell of burnt wood hung in the air. Natasha Ross wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a deep breath. Her muscles burned with exhaustion, but she was glad that they had managed to get the fire under control. The last few hours had been a nightmare, but now that the flames were contained, she could finally relax a little.

"Good job, guys. We did it," Captain Sullivan called, patting Natasha on the shoulder. "Now everyone go back to the station and get the cars back in shape." Natasha nodded exhaustedly and looked at each of her team members. "You heard the captain. You did a great job today, I'm proud of you."

When they got back to the station, she was about to go to her locker when she noticed someone standing at the entrance to the fire station. An older man in a tailored gray suit.

"Ross?" The man's voice was firm and authoritative, his serious gaze directed strictly at Natasha. She raised her eyebrows and walked towards him with slow and careful steps. "Yes, I'm Natasha Ross. Can I help you?"

"My name is Alex Carter,“ the man pulled out an older ID card holder and showed Natasha his Homeland Security badge. "I need to speak to you. Urgently."

Her heart immediately started beating faster and her palms began to sweat. What could a Department of Homeland Security agent want from her? "What is it about, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not here. Follow me, please." Alex Carter turned around without another word and led Natasha to a black SUV parked not too far from the station. Natasha hesitated for a moment, but then decided to follow the request. She couldn't deny that the situation had piqued her curiosity.

There was a tense silence inside the vehicle until they finally reached a nondescript office building on the outskirts of the city. The agent led Natasha through a labyrinth of corridors and security gates until they finally arrived in a small conference room. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a table and a few chairs. On the walls hung various old maps of the whole of Seattle with red circles on them and photos of various fire sites.

"Sit down, Ross," Carter said coldly and closed the door behind him. "What I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential and must not leave this building. You are bound to secrecy."

Natasha sat down and looked expectantly at the agent while resting her hands on the wooden table. "Okay, I'm listening."

"There have been a number of arsons in Seattle over the last few months," Carter began, laying an open file on the table that contained the same pictures that were on the corkboards. "These fires were not accidental. We have evidence that they are the work of an organized terrorist cell."

Natasha frowned and couldn't help but grunt. "With all due respect, but what do I have to do with this?"

Alex Carter leaned forward and straddled the table, his hands gripping it tightly as he looked Natasha straight in the eyes. "We know that you have demonstrated exceptional firefighting skills during your time with the fire department. Additionally, you were previously part of a special task force in the Marines. Your experience and skills make you the perfect candidate for a covert operation."

Natasha felt her pulse rate exceed normal. She had left her time in the Marines more than a decade ago and vowed never again to be involved in such dangerous missions that could drag her and her family into the abyss. "You want me to go undercover?" she asked incredulously and the agent nodded with a straight face. "Exactly. We have reason to believe that the terrorist cell is planning to carry out a large-scale attack in Seattle. We need someone who can infiltrate their structures and gather information. Someone who is inconspicuous and competent. And that's where you come into the game."

Natasha leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath. Her leg was shaking nervously under the table. "I don't know... I've left that world behind me." She spoke in a whisper. "I understand," Alex Carter said calmly. "But remember that your skills and knowledge are needed now. You could save countless lives."

The fire chief was silent for a moment. The idea of ​​returning to a world full of danger and uncertainty was frightening. But the thought that she could actually make a difference and put a stop to it made her hesitate. "Who is my contact?" she finally asked, determined to help.

A slight smile, the first since the meeting, crossed Carter's face. "Your old comrade, y/n y/l/n. She now works for Homeland Security and will be your partner on this mission." Natasha's eyes widened, her pupils dilating to the maximum. "Y/n y/l/n? I thought she had quit her service."

"After her time in the military, she decided to pursue a career in the secret service," he explained quickly, getting back to the important topic. "She will be your main contact and will provide you with all the information you need."

She took a deep breath and finally nodded. They hadn't seen or heard from each other for years. Contact was lost shortly after she herself had quit the service and started a new career as a firefighter. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

ᕚ---ᕘ

Two weeks had passed since you and Natasha had gone undercover. You had integrated yourself into the structures of the terrorist cell, got used to your new identities and put your lives on the line every day. The fine balance between your roles as firefighter and Homeland Security agent was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. But you both knew that any carelessness could blow your cover.

Inside the building, chaos reigned. Flames were blazing from the walls and the sound of crackling wood and collapsing structures filled the air. Natasha knelt behind a stack of boxes and observed the scene. She could feel the adrenaline flowing through her veins as she waited for the operation to begin.

"Are you alright, 'tash?" Your concerned voice came through the piece of technology in her ear, clear and precise. You were on the other side of the hall, monitoring the operation from a safe distance. "Yes, everything is fine," she whispered back and took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

The task was clear: infiltrate the group responsible for the arsons, gather information and prevent their next major attack. But that also meant that you were both in constant danger and your every move had to be carefully coordinated so as not to attract attention or worse.

Natasha forced herself to remain calm as she heard the hall door being pushed open. Several more figures entered, including her first target: a man named Victor Delgado, the right-hand man of the head of the terrorist unit.

"Guys, have you prepared everything?" Delgado asked in a sharp voice. He was tall, muscular, and exuded a menacing presence. "Yes, sir," a younger man answered nervously, probably a new follower, since you had never seen him before. "The fire will spread quickly, as planned. We made sure of that."

The fire chief pressed herself even deeper into the shadows, waiting for the signal from you. She knew you only had one chance to overpower Delgado and his men without anyone getting hurt, and to get him to talk at the headquarters.

"Now!" you whispered into her earpiece, and Natasha jumped out of her hiding place, her borrowed Homeland Security gun drawn. "Don't move!" she shouted loudly, aiming directly at Delgado. "Homeland Security!"

For a moment, time seemed to stand still for her, then more chaos broke out. Delgado reached for his own weapon, but you were faster. A precise shot from your hidden position hit him in the shoulder, and he fell to the ground. The other men also drew their weapons, but you were both prepared. A heavy exchange of fire broke out, and Natasha felt the wave of adrenaline hit her.

When everything went quiet again and the men were lying on the ground all around you, you stormed towards Delgado and overpowered him. "Get down on the ground! It's over for you."

While the two of you, with backup, arrested and secured the men, Natasha felt a rush of relief. But this calm was short-lived, she knew that this was only a small victory in a much bigger game.

Four hours later, Natasha was sitting in a safe house that Homeland Security had prepared for the two of you. The room was spartan but functional. She had sat down on the sofa, exhausted, and rubbed her eyes. But she couldn't go to sleep yet. She was waiting anxiously for you to come back and for news that she hoped you could squeeze out of Delgado.

When a key turned in the lock of the old door and the squeaky wood sprang open, she was suddenly wide awake again and stood on her feet, nervously walking towards you. "Have you found out anything?"

You nodded, also tired, and kicked your shoes off your feet. "I have a name: Thao Lord. He is the real mastermind behind the attacks. We have to catch him tomorrow night, otherwise the whole of Seattle will burn down."

Natasha felt the nervousness fading from her body. Finally you had a name, a goal. But the danger was far from over and a return to her old life was not yet done.

"Delgado was just a small cog in the machine. This Lord is far worse than we had imagined," you said, sitting down next to Natasha, that meanwhile haf sat back down. She leaned back and nodded as she sipped her wine glass. "Probably. But we took an important step today."

"You were great out there today. Like old times, huh?" you finally said after a moment of silence, looking at her with a soft smile. "I knew I had chosen the right one with you when we were looking for someone suitable for this mission."

Natasha felt the surprise overcoming her, her eyes widening. "You... chose me? I thought this was Carter's idea."

Another silence fell, heavy and full of unspoken words. "We should rest," you finally whispered and stood up. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

Natasha nodded silently and watched you go to your room. She sighed and leaned back again, her mind racing. Why were you still thinking about her after all these years? Why did you choose her when you could have chosen any other chief from all the fire departments in Seattle?"

ᕚ---ᕘ

The following night there was a tense silence as you and Natasha approached the spot where Thao Lord was supposed to meet Delgado. An abandoned industrial building on the outskirts of the city, similar to the one where you had confronted Delgado. This time, however, you knew it was all or nothing.

"Are you ready?" Natasha asked quietly, looking at you. You nodded, your eyes sparkling with determination as a smile spread across your lips. "I'm always ready, 'tash. You know that."

With a mischievous wink, you began to move silently through the shadows until you both reached the building. She hesitantly opened the heavy door, trying not to make a sound, and you entered the interior a few seconds later. There was an eerie silence inside, only interrupted by the occasional drip of water from the leaky pipes.

"Thao Lord must be here somewhere," you whispered, holding your weapon ready to fire. "We have to be careful, it's too confusing."

You made your way through the dark corridors, always on guard. Natasha could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared for the unexpected. Finally, you reached a large room with a table in the middle, loaded with explosives and plans of the city.

Suddenly you heard footsteps and quickly ducked behind a wall as a man with graying hair and cold, calculating eyes approached the table - Thao Lord.

"Everything is ready," he said firmly to himself and laughed. "Tonight Seattle will go up in flames and destroy everything that needs to be destroyed."

Natasha felt her blood boiling. She had to stop him before he could put his plan into action. She exchanged a brief but determined look with you, then you both nodded at each other. It was time to act.

"Homeland Security! Hands up!" Natasha shouted, staying in cover and keeping her gun pointed at Lord. "Nothing is going to blow up here! The only thing that will happen is that you'll see the inside of a cell."

Lord laughed coldly and fired wildly. "You think you can stop me? You're just two women against an entire organization!"

But you and Natasha were not intimidated. You fought with all your strength and skill, and finally you managed to overpower Thao. He lay on the ground, his hands handcuffed, and she stepped closer to him. "You lost," she said in a firm voice. "Seattle is safe. Delgado ratted you out."

Thao Lord looked up with hate-filled eyes and a brief, cold shiver ran down her spine. "This isn't over yet." Natasha ignored his words and helped you get him to his feet before you both made your way to the headquarters.

The night passed quickly and the next morning you and Natasha were sitting in a small cafe, away from the hectic city. The case was closed, Lord and his men were behind bars, and the danger to Seattle had been averted. In the quiet moments after the storm, you could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad it's all over," said Natasha, taking a sip of her coffee. "It was a tough time that somehow reminded me a lot of the Marines and I'm honestly glad to be back with my team."

You nodded and looked her deep in the eyes. "Yes, it was. But I'm also glad that we got through it together. I couldn't have imagined a better partner for this case."

There was a moment of silence, and the fire chief could practically feel the depth of it. "Y/n, I want you to know how much what we have achieved together means to me," she said quietly and you smiled, gently running your finger along the rim of your coffee cup. "And not only that. I also realized how much you mean to me and how much I have missed you all these years."

"I feel the same way. You became my friend again so quickly. If not more... and that in such a short time even though the distance has separated us for so long."

Natasha felt a wave of joy as she took your hand and squeezed it tightly. "I want us to keep in touch. Let's see where this leads."

You nodded and squeezed her hand once too. "Yes, let's do that. Together." you said and in that moment you knew that you could get through anything together, like in your previous life. The danger was averted and a future full of possibilities and further collaborations lay ahead of you. You and Natasha had found each other not only as partners but also as friends, and nothing could separate you again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Bezzle excerpt (Part II)

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Today, I'm bringing you part two of this week's serialized excerpt from The Bezzle, my new Martin Hench high-tech crime revenge thriller:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Though most of the scams that Hench – a two-fisted forensic accountant specializing in Silicon Valley skullduggery – goes after in The Bezzle have a strong tech component, this excerpt concerns a pre-digital scam: music royalty theft.

This is a subject that I got really deep into when researching and writing 2022's Chokepoint Capitalism – a manifesto for fixing creative labor markets:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

My co-author on that book is Rebecca Giblin, who also happens to be one of the world's leading experts in "copyright termination" – the legal right of creative workers to claw back any rights they signed over after 35 years:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/26/take-it-back/

This was enshrined in the 1976 Copyright Act, and has largely languished in obscurity since then, though recent years have seen creators of all kinds getting their rights back through termination – the authors of The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High Books, Stephen King, and George Clinton, to name a few. The estates of the core team at Marvel Comics, including Stan Lee, just settled a case that might have let them take the rights to all those characters back from Disney:

https://www.thewrap.com/marvel-settles-spiderman-lawsuit-steve-ditko/

Copyright termination is a powerful tonic to the bargaining disparities between creative workers. A creative worker who signs a bad contract at the start of their career can – if they choose – tear that contract up 35 years later and demand a better one.

Turning this into a plot-point in The Bezzle is the kind of thing that I love about this series – the ability to take important, obscure, technical aspects of how the world works and turn them into high-stakes technothriller storylines that bring them to the audience they deserve.

If you signed something away 35 years ago and you want to get it back, try Rights Back, an automated termination of tranfer tool co-developed by Creative Commons and Authors Alliance (whose advisory board I volunteer on):

https://rightsback.org/

All right, onto today's installment. Here's part one, published on Saturday:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

It was on one of those drives where Stefon learned about copyright termination. It was 2011, and NPR was doing a story on the 1976 Copyright Act, passed the same year that was on the bottom of the document Chuy forged.

Under the ’76 act, artists acquired a “termination right”—­ that is, the power to cancel any copyright assignment after thirty-­five years, even if they signed a contract promising to sign away their rights forever and a day (or until the copyright ran out, which was nearly the same thing).

Listening to a smart, assured lady law professor from UC Berkeley explaining how this termination thing worked, Stefon got a wild idea. He pulled over and found a stub of a pencil and the back of a parking-­ticket envelope and wrote down the professor’s name when it was repeated at the end of the program. The next day he went to the Inglewood Public Library and got a reference librarian to teach him how to look up a UC Berkeley email address and he sent an email to the professor asking how he could terminate his copyright assignment.

He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to answer him, but she did, in less than a day. He got the email on his son’s smartphone and the boy helped him send a reply asking if he could call her. One thing led to another and two weeks later, he’d filed the paperwork with the U.S. Copyright Office, along with a check for one hundred dollars.

Time passed, and Stefon mostly forgot about his paperwork adventure with the Copyright Office, though every now and again he’d remember, think about that hundred dollars, and shake his head. Then, nearly a year later, there it was, in his mailbox: a letter saying that his copyright assignment had been canceled and his copyrights were his again. There was also a copy of a letter that had been sent to Chuy, explaining the same thing.

Stefon knew a lawyer—­well, almost a lawyer, an ex–­trumpet player who became a paralegal after one time subbing for Sly Stone’s usual guy, and then never getting another gig that good. He invited Jamal over for dinner and cooked his best pot roast and served it with good whiskey and then Jamal agreed to send a letter to Inglewood Jams, informing them that Chuy no longer controlled his copyrights and they had to deal with him direct from now on.

Stefon hand-­delivered the letter the next day, wearing his good suit for reasons he couldn’t explain. The receptionist took it without a blink. He waited.

“Thank you,” she said, pointedly, glancing at the door.

“I can wait,” he said.

“For what?” She reminded him of his boy’s girlfriend, a sophomore a year younger than him. Both women projected a fierce message that they were done with everyone’s shit, especially shit from men, especially old men. He chose his words carefully.

“I don’t know, honestly.” He smiled shyly. He was a good-­looking man, still. That smile had once beamed out of televisions all over America, from the Soul Train stage. “But ma’am, begging your pardon, that letter is about my music, which you all sell here. You sell a lot of it, and I want to talk that over with whoever is in charge of that business.”

She let down her guard by one minute increment. “You’ll want Mr. Gounder,” she said. “He’s not in today. Give me your phone number, I’ll have him call.”

He did, but Mr. Gounder didn’t call. He called back two days later, and the day after that, and the following Monday, and then he went back to the office. The receptionist who reminded him of his son’s girlfriend gave him a shocked look.

“Hello,” he said, and tried out that shy smile. “I wonder if I might see that Mr. Gounder.”

She grew visibly uncomfortable. “Mr. Gounder isn’t in today,” she lied. “I see,” he said. “Will he be in tomorrow?”

“No,” she said.

“The day after?”

“No.” Softer.

“Is that Mr. Gounder of yours ever coming in?”

She sighed. “Mr. Gounder doesn’t want to speak with you, I’m sorry.”

The smile hadn’t worked, so he switched to the look he used to give his bandmates when they wouldn’t cooperate. “Maybe someone can tell me why?”

A door behind her had been open a crack; now it swung wide and a young man came out. He looked Hispanic, with a sharp fade and flashy sneakers, but he didn’t talk like a club kid or a hood rat—­he sounded like a USC law student.

“Sir, if you have a claim you’d like Mr. Gounder to engage with, please have your attorney contact him directly.”

Stefon looked this kid up and down and up, tried and failed to catch the receptionist’s eye, and said, “Maybe I can talk this over with you. Are you someone in charge around here?”

“I’m Xavier Perez. I’m vice president for catalog development here. I don’t deal with legal claims, though. That’s strictly Mr. Gounder’s job. Please have your attorney put your query in writing and Mr. Gounder will be in touch as soon as is ­feasible.”

“I did have a lawyer write him a letter,” Stefon said. “I gave it to this young woman. Mr. Gounder hasn’t been in touch.”

Perez looked at the receptionist. “Did you receive a letter from this gentleman?”

She nodded, still not meeting Stefon’s eye. “I gave it to Mr. Gounder last week.”

Perez grinned, showing a gold tooth, and then, in his white, white voice, said, “There you have it. I’m sure Mr. Gounder will get back in touch with your counsel soon. Thank you for coming in today, Mr.—­”

“Stefon Magner.” Stefon waited a moment, then said, for the first time in many years, “I used to perform under Steve Soul, though.”

Perez nodded briskly. He’d known that. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Magner.” Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared back into his office.

ETA: Here's part three!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/19/crad-kilodney-was-an-outlier/#copyright-termination

[scarrabear]

QUOGAN HEADCANONS PART 1

Hi hello <3 first time post from me on this account. I realized I had a lot of thoughts of my own on these two dweebs and I LOVE reading everyone else's thoughts, so I'm being brave and sharing my own. :)

Yes it's long and there will be a part 2. I talk a lot lol. Feel free to send me asks or recs if you want more :)

While Secretly Dating

They would text each other every single morning with Logan saying things along the lines of "good morning beautiful <3" and Quinn saying "good morning cutie :)". Sometimes these messages would cause them to giggle and/or blush leading their respective roommates to question what they were looking at.

Meetings at their secret hiding spots would take place nearly every morning, in between most classes, and every night. This was both of their favorite parts of the day because it's where they could talk, flirt, vent, and yes, make-out. (Michael & James notice that Logan always shows up to their first class completely giddy and when they try to tease him about it, Logan simply shuts them down with a snark comment.)

While at meals with their friends, the two would secretly try and play footsie or touch fingertips under the table.

Around the second or third month of them secretly dating (show canon: in-between Coffee Cart Ban and Chasing Zoey), they start experimenting with kissing, i.e, French kissing, necking, ear kisses, and even leaving small hickies. Quinn is the one who wants to try the latter to which Logan was nervous, excited, and turned on. Hesitant, they leave small ones on areas of the shoulder that can be covered by sleeves. Logan really likes having his ear nibbled and neck kissed especially while Quinn touches his head. Quinn realizes she loves being spoiled with kisses all over her face and neck.

Sometimes after basketball practice, if Logan is sore Quinn would insist on giving him massages.

Logan realizes how turned on he gets whenever Quinn talks about science or shares a fun fact. One day Quinn is helping Zoey fix her Jet-X and Lola almost catches him drooling.

Yes, dating Quinn doses cause Logan to improve his grades. This is something he does willingly because he truly wants to be the best version of himself for her. I imagine the first Michael & James walk in on him truly studying they are visibly shocked. Every time Logan gets an A or B on an assignment he proudly tells Quinn to which she is equally as ecstatic.

^^ Quinn also finds Logan studying hot.

They leave little notes for each other in their backpacks or textbooks.

For prom, when they agree to take different people as dates, Logan begs Quinn to tell him what color dress she plans to wear because he wants to match his pocket square. (You can see in the show that he's wearing one to match even while he was with Stacey.)

Openly Dating: JR Year Summer

Lola/Zoey and Chase/Michael/James sat Logan down separately and made sure his intentions were not to take advantage of Quinn. Both of those sessions lasted about 5 minutes until they realized that Logan was truly in love with her.

Yes, their friends (lovingly) teased them about their relationship. Lola and Zoey made sure to shut down anyone around campus that judged them or made harsh remarks.

Chase and ESPECIALLY Michael were beyond happy for them (Michael apologized for laughing in their faces when they tried to tell him they were dating months ago).

Logan cried when Quinn went back home to Seattle.

Quinn asked to take one of his t shirts with her back home to which Logan requested one of her jackets.

They spoke on the phone every single day, usually in the morning and at night. Quinn liked to fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

Quinn works as a camp counselor for a science day camp for children.

Quinn visited Logan (Malcolm Reese & Chauncey remembered her which made her happy) mid June for a week to which she got to meet Lyric (age 5-9 years old) for the first time.

Quinn brought Lyric a few Magic Tree House books and a mini science kit as a gift.

While in California, Logan, Mr. Reese, and baby Lyric showed Quinn around Los Angeles (movie sets, Disneyland, museums, and shopping.)

Logan and Quinn take Lyric to see Kung fu Panda in theaters.

Lyric is immediately fond of Quinn and wants to be as smart as her. She even draws a picture of Quinn as a scientist and gives it to her before she goes home.

It makes Logan's heart all fuzzy and gives his stomach butterflies seeing Quinn and Lyric interact.

Malcolm and Chauncey catch Logan drooling over Quinn multiple times and never fail to tease him.

Logan takes Quinn on a romantic dinner date on the beach and gives her a heart necklace that has their initials and the date they officially started dating engraved.

Quinn gifts him a portable hand held mirror that she quinnvented before she arrived. The mirror also has his name engraved along with the date they shared their first kiss. It has adjustable lighting and various settings such as a zoom feature and background blurring to focus more on his reflection.

For 4th of July that summer, Logan visits Quinn and her family in Seattle. She was nervous at first because her house is notably smaller than what he is used to but Logan was quite happy and comfortable and assured her that he didn't care about her wealth.

Logan is nervous as hell to meet Quinn's parents and her Bubbe (she had to explain to him the meaning of the word and is surprised and flattered how much Logan wants to know about her family's history.)

The Pensky family shows Logan around Seattle and he's shocked at how cool the Washington air is. He loves the trees and the mountains. His favorite activity is going whale watching.

Bubbe teaches Logan some of her Jewish recipes. The two form a close bond.

Quinn shows Logan photos and videos from her beauty pageant days but he's more interested in seeing the collection of her childhood science experiments.

SR Year - SR Year Summer

Logan replaced the photo of himself he normally kept on the dorm wall with one Bubbe took of him & Quinn in Seattle. (They're smiling at each other while he's hugging her from behind.) On the wall next to his top bunk are a collection of smaller photos. Some of just him, some of just Quinn, but mainly solo ones of Quinn.

Quinn keeps a mini scrapbook in one of her bed cubbies that has her favorite photos of Logan and notes that he wrote her from last year.

Lola & Vince break up at some point which leads to Lola & Zoey having a moment where they are jealous of Quinn & Logan's relationship. They get over it...eventually.

Quinn is granted early acceptance into Caltech and Logan takes her out to celebrate (also they make-out in a hammock)

Logan gets into UCLA on his own accord (his dad did not buy his way in) to major in business and minor in chemistry. PCA's head chemistry teacher wrote Logan a stellar letter of recommendation. He also took a few science ACTs (and did exceptionally well) at the beginning of senior year to help boost his chances.

For Logan's birthday, Quinn gifts him his own golf club set that she quinnvented. The clubs are perfectly designed for his height, grip, and other golf terms I don't know enough about.

For Quinn's birthday, Logan rents out sushi Rox for the night and and throws a surprise party for her. He has the party end 30 minutes early so he and Quinn can have the place to themselves so they can slow dance. Michael plays the flute for them.

For their one year anniversary, they have a moonlight picnic. Quinn makes him a personalized cologne (one of you lovelies said this and I 100% agree!!!) and his own zap watch but with baby settings with their anniversary date and the message "I love you" engraved.

Logan bought her a personalized lab coat, a designer lab bag, and dozens of flowers.

They do it *stream ChloexHalle* on their anniversary weekend in Logan's dorm room (he paid Michael & Chase to stay out of the room that night).

They're both nervous at first but as soon as they're in each other's arms, love and a whole lot of lust takes over. All they want to do is please the other.

Quinn is obviously valedictorian and her speech makes Logan the proudest he had ever felt up until that point.

Logan sent Quinn's mother and Bubbe flowers for mothers day (to which he would continue to do in the future)

In the summer, Quinn visited Logan's family again for a week to which Lyric was beyond excited.

At night, the two would sneak into each other's bedrooms for intimate moments. This is when they would really discover their pleasures and what they like/don't like in bed.

So yeah. Thanks for reading if you got this far!!!!! Sending everyone love <3

[disregardcanon]

thinking about a npmd characters yellowjackets au and oh boy it's fun

okay so the premise is, the hatchetfield high school nighthawk football team is going to nationals. i'm pretty sure that doesn't exist for american high school football but we're suspending disbelief.

solomon lauter is trying to build up goodwill with the community for this election cycle, so not only does he charter a private plane for the football team, he makes his daughter go with. HE doesn't have time to go to seattle and it's not like most people will see him there anyway, but if he puts his daughter on the plane with them and says oh look my daughter is so kind and supportive! she's taking time away from HER own schoolwork and HER own life to support our fighting nighthawks! what a kind and involved citizen she is!

and then of course he pressures her teachers to just. let her off the hook for activities in classes that week. because she's such a kiiinnnddd person who's supporting the football team.

richie, of course, is essential for an excursion such as this. he's zeke the fighting nighthawk! he's on that plane. ruth has some overlap with misty quigley that i find interesting, so we're making her the equipment manager. this is half to get her on the plane and half because i think she'd use that as an excuse to be a pervert. like oooohhh i'm so sorry! i didn't think there would be boys CHANGING in here right now! myyyy mistake.

max and the football team and brenda and the cheer squad are all there. now however do we get our dearest spankoffski on that plane? (ruth says that she needs help with equipment management duties and pete's already the salutorian of the class... so she's able to sell him just missing this second to last week of school alright to the teachers. he doesn't really WANT to, but steph, who he's been bonding with since she got him to help her cheat and then actually helped her study... asks him to. because she says she's going to be bored out of her mind without someone to hang out with... and he's only HUMAN, okay?)

now how do we get grace temperance chastity on a plane full of horny teenagers for an activity that she doesn't do? why making her the president of the FCA (fellowship of christian athletes) of course! she is the self-assigned chaperone of such an important and potentially very horny and drug-ridden activity in such a den of sin (seattle). SHE is the only thing standing between the students of hatchetfield high and total anarchy. as valedictorian (peter, if you just applied yourself and maybe went to chuuurrrcchhh you might have beaten me! grace will you just shut up-) she is not worried about her grades in this penultimate week of school. oh BOY was she wrong.

they of course crash in the canadian rockies. the coaches die, and we're left with absolute fucking anarchy. everyone save our favorite quintet listen to max for awhile as he dictates the ways that heeee, max jagerman, think things should be run. it's bad! it doesn't work! they're gonna fucking die!!!!!!!

jagerman is more worried about how to keep his power and where steph keeps disappearing to than figuring out how to stay alive in case of... not getting rescued.

ruth has GAD and is just freaking the fuck out in the corner, richie is doing the same, and pete is trying to figure out. how the fuck to survive in case of no rescue coming. steph's on team I Think We Should Prepare, Jesus Christ! and grace enjoys survival situations so she's over here. she also thinks that the act of god might be that they're stuck out here and have to build a new jerusalem (tehehe)

the combined powers of steph's charisma and kindness, pete's problem-solving, and grace's intensity and sureness in herself, they convince the rest of the group that they found a safer spot... a lake, where they might find water and food and not die here by the plane while waiting for a rescue that might not come.

the rest of the group listens, showing the first crack in max jagerman's power, and he has a very ugly blowup but eventually follows.

he IS going to die out there. he IS going to be the first to die out there. and they are going to eat him :) but it's also max jagerman who's in the narrative role of jackie. so he's gonna haunt this fucking narrative! OHHHHH YEAAAAAAHHHHHHH

other tidbits: max deciding to for real pursue grace is mainly about trying to break her power base because he's pissed she's the one everyone's listening to now, but he also... does think that's hot. :3

grace IS going full girl-prophet. lottie tempered her girl-prophet ways in season 2 because she realized that things were going wrong... grace thinks she's god's anointed so she is not going to do that. not at all.

stephanie HAS got a gun. a hunting she will go. a hunting she will take pete. (we're out here starving in the woods and you think that pete and i shouldn't... sleep together? with fucking CONDOMS!?!?! what is your prOBLEM? he's a loser and you're COOL! we're not in fucking high school, max! grow! up!) they're getting some of that Narrative Conflict With The Superstitions that defines natalie's character.

ruth WOULD find the porno mags she WOULD show everyone and when grace tries to confiscate them for Jesus Reasons ruth would find one to squirrel away just for herself. i am also assigning ruth butcher because i think she could handle the guts, and also.. i'm sorry the idea of ruth throwing girls' nights with jagerman's corpse in the freezing cold meat shed just works in my brain.

i'm gonna give richie van's How Do We Make Sense of All These Times I Almost Died and this ABSOLUTE Bullshit!??!! plot line, along with assigning him group morale and Person Who Tells the Stories.

when it gets to the card pull grace WILL be rigging it to get rid of "dirty dudes". jason gets got first. and grace keeps giving lautski and ruth cryptic warnings about cleaning up their sexual act or else and they're just like hahaha i'm in danger...

somehow grace thinks that this is all compatible with her christianity! i love her <3

[infamoussparks]

Chapter 11: Missed Signs (Rosaline)

Approx. 2,200 words; 15 minute read

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57940441/chapters/167194381

A chill quickly worked its way down my spine. I did recognize that name. It was plastered across the newspapers and television screens as the list of assumed deceased members of the Stratego building fire were amassed.

A year can change you, given the chance. That is, if you can’t stop that chance from entering your life, like a 4-year old child who enters your world as unexpectedly as a meteor. It can… really have an impact.

After the altercation between Team Paper and Team Warehouse, I was left sort of holding the twine of lives I didn’t realize I had been tied up in. It felt like walking into a spider web and being unable to see the thin strings to remove them from yourself. I had friends who understood the fact that I needed to keep a low profile to keep my integrity in place and they had taught me new ways to expand my power. I used my powers to help reunite the team after two were lost and locked beyond mirror tricks. I used it to help strengthen my bond with Caly.

I used it to quit my job as a doctor for the maternity ward. I didn’t feel like that was the right place for me any longer. After all of that, I finally felt that my calling was bigger than telling secrets I shouldn’t share from those who could not even speak yet. I was dooming their fates. Well, not all of them, luckily. But it still felt wrong and it tugged at my heart harder now that Caly was in my life.

Where does that leave me? Opening my own practice in the heart of Seattle as a full time Therapist for conduits and those without powers as well. I get to hear secrets and stories from those who are willing to tell me and I can hold those dear to my chest in both confidentiality and in relatability. It feels… right. Good. As though this is where I should be right at this moment in my life.

Of course, this also opens channels that are not too pleasant for me but I work through them. Beyond the trauma and teaching people how to cope or get through things, I’m also working with the local police force and visiting conduits (or suspected conduits) who have found themselves behind bars. This has been an interesting twist of employment for me and while I am not exactly thrilled that I was given high enough marks to do this line of work, it is somewhat gratifying to be able to offer help for those who may be soon-to-be-released and simply need guidance and support with managing life after their powers have gone awry or had been used in a sort of bad karma deal in their lives. Often the ones within the cells are the most grateful for my help and I always find I am humbled by their experiences.

One case I am currently assigned to is the Stella case. I can’t say much on it right now other than the fact that Orion is pushing my buttons on purpose while he remains under a full lockdown. He believes his tether to his sister will save him but after speaking with Lucky on my own I believe he is very misguided on this. Time will tell how that shakes out for him. Or for the Warehouse crew.

Speaking of time, my new job gives me a lot more personal time as I can make my own schedule. I get as much time with Caly as I want and as much time with my partners as I can squeeze in. Every now and then I feel like my power fills up–like it’s some sort of bucket with a lid that can be reached. When I feel this gentle brush at my ceiling I call Garrett and spend time with them. It’s strange in a way, actively seeking a person to help you offload your power, but they haven’t complained and their aura reads in a way that tells me I am not bothersome for needing help navigating my limits. These are, after all, new to me entirely.

I try to keep my abilities quietly locked away for the most part, only tapping into them during working hours. But now and then I get triggered in a way that screams for me to open those gates and those times have been helpful in reading a situation before something bad happens. It’s not quite a premonition as Lucky would call it, more like “mother’s intuition” based on things I’m learning from being around Caly so often. I can’t say I dislike the extra sense though sometimes it’s a hassle and I’d rather be able to turn it off and just be purely human for once.

But I’ve never been one to shun my gifts, no matter how late in life I received them. Benji told me once he also feels the same in regard to his abilities and that’s a bit reassuring. Makayla on the other hand just thinks I’m crazy for not pushing my limits on the daily to see what else I can do. I have to constantly remind her that I am not going to cross that line and especially will not be telling her about my experiences if I ever do.

So that leaves me with a new job, a practice I love, surrounded with the support of those who love me (and some who simply tolerate me). It’s been a wild year, for sure, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

“Doctor Hutch?” The speaker on my phone startles me from my computer and I press the call button to connect to my receptionist.

“Yes, Meg?” The nurse from the children’s hospital had quit as soon as the news of my last day was announced. I scooped her up for my personal practice and she was thrilled to work alongside me once again, even if it was a bit of a pay cut to start. I made the difference up to her with gift cards for coffee and lunch dates. She was my only employee and my favorite one at that.

“You have a walk-in. Can you see her now? She’s a little bit… impatient.”

I checked my calendar, saved my password-protected journal entry and shoved it to the bottom of my screen. “Yes. Did she give you her name?”

Meg was quiet for a moment and I could hear murmuring through the speaker. Then she cleared her voice as she got back on the phone with me, her voice sounding a little strained in a strange way. “Cindy Signet. She said you would recognize her name.”

A chill quickly worked its way down my spine. I did recognize that name. It was plastered across the newspapers and television screens as the list of assumed deceased members of the Stratego building fire were amassed. I also knew from the warehouse team that Cindy was supposedly the niece of the late Brooke Augustine and also her assumed killer.

And now this ghost was supposedly haunting my office.

I debated calling the police to relay this information but instead I found myself speaking into my phone, “Send her in, please. And go on break.”

“Break? I just got back from lunch an hour ago and I–”

“Meg. Go on break. Leave the office and flip the ‘welcome’ sign to ‘closed’. I’ll be in touch.”

“Oh,” Meg breathed, finally catching my drift, “Yes, of course. Please text me. I’ll send her in now.” The call disconnected and I collected my favorite pen from my hair as I still had a habit of shoving them into my messy bun of red hair. I turned to a fresh page in my notebook and stood from behind my desk with a deep breath. Whoever was about to come through that door would not be using that name without realizing that I would understand the implications of it.

I did not have to wait very long.

The woman who stalked into my office space closed the door behind her without a glance. Her prussian blue eyes were entirely focused on my face and narrowed with a mix of distrust and… anger. I pushed my powers toward her, her aura blooming into reds and violets and golds. This woman was clearly on a mission and I was hoping to just be a stop along the way. But a ripple of yellow around her figure reminded me that this woman was also dangerous–she was absolutely flaring a power I could not identify yet. She was a conduit.

She stood behind the chair I swept my hand toward as I offered her a curt hello. “Please, have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Whatever is comfortable for you,” I state without moving my eyes from hers as I round my desk to lean against it instead of seating myself, “Miss Signet, would you like to tell me what brings you into my office today?”

She studies me right back, running a full sweep over me from head to toe and back again. I notice her right hand twitch as though she is testing a reflex to reach for a weapon of some sort. I’m not sure if she is unarmed but I am seeing danger mix with her colors and I am doing my best to appear as disarming as possible.

���It took a while to track you down. I didn’t even know you were who I was looking for until I pieced together the clues I was collecting,” she was choosing her words carefully, slowly. “You have her.”

I remained as blank faced as possible though I would be lying if I said my heart did not leap into my throat as a vision of Caly flashed through my minds’ eye. “Miss Signet, I have many clients. You’ll have to be more specific and also understand the rules of my practice; I cannot share personal information about my clients.”

“She’s not your client.” Her voice was so sure, so confident. “I want the girl. Project 42. And you will give her to me.”

I hadn’t heard the codename for Caly in over a year and the thought that this woman before me knew Caly by that name made me feel sick to my stomach. I felt the color drain from my face. Lying was the first thing I could think of to do to protect her. “You must have me mistaken for someone else. I don’t know who you are referring to.”

She narrowed her eyes further at me as though seeing through my words. “My mistake. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” Her combat boots slowly crossed the space until she was standing directly in front of me. She bent down slightly to be eye-level, something flashed in my peripherals and a sudden noise to my left caused me to jump slightly. “You have one week to hand her over to me.”

I swallowed thickly but my mouth felt dry. Her aura mixed with mine–her reds and purples spilling into my yellows and blues. Her anger and strength bleeding into my fear and caution.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take her from you, without remorse.”

“I’ll see what I can find out about this ‘Project 42’ and let you know what I find out in one week.” More lies. I am building a steel wall in my head, fortifying my mental strength as Garrett has shown me. At the moment it doesn't feel like it will be anywhere even close to enough.

She smirks and shakes her head slowly. “One. Week.” 

Then she’s gone from my personal space and at the door to my office in a flash of white that feels hot against my skin. She leaves without a look back at me and I listen for the main office door to close, the beep of the door alarm signaling that I am alone. I release a shaky breath and move to better sit against my desk, my legs weak from the stress of that exchange. As I glance down to practice a deep breathing technique I notice a glinting to my left and realize that the noise I had heard earlier was a single dagger now buried in the wood of my desk. The hilt of it has a single number engraved, “9”. I’m able to remove it from the desk and then I cross back to behind my desk, opening one of my drawers to drop the weapon inside before I drop into my office chair, adrenaline coursing through my body.

Caly was in danger. Again. I needed to review what I knew from between the last catastrophic event one year ago and try to prevent this oncoming one. I had to protect this child and I was determined to do so with my whole heart. I pulled up my client files and started to sort through them, working backward from today until I found the first few sessions from the opening of my practice.

“Something has to be here, somewhere,” I whispered to myself. “How could I have missed Cindy being alive this whole time?” Except I already knew how I had missed it; I had made the worst assumption: that her death was the truth despite the lack of a funeral. 

I would not make this same mistake twice.

[nerdieforpedro]

Pleasure Principle

Chapter 1: Intriguing

Dave York x plus size OFC

Fanfiction 18+ read at your own risk

Masterlist / Dave York Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, jobs go sideways and one of the guys ends up at the hospital. Dave happens to find a new project to work with one of the nurses on while awaiting his next assignment.

Warnings: brief mention of gunshots and wounds, bad patient behavior, borderline bad nurse behavior, intimidation

Divorced and his two daughters living with their mother in Seattle with her new husband of three years, David York only focused on his work. Sometimes in a suit, usually in a bulletproof vest and semi-automatic rifles. Every so often he’d get to use his trusty sniper scope. Different jobs, different targets, same team. Until one of his men was shot in the shoulder and had to go to the hospital. They were able to get him to University of Maryland where they had shock trauma. As team leader he smoothed things over with the administrators about reporting the GSW with some government persuasion. From the hallway he heard his colleague getting a tongue lashing:

“She’s not gonna hold your urinal for you sir. You were able to eat your own ice chips and watch soccer on your phone, use the bed to help you position yourself and put the call light on when you need it emptied and you’ve covered yourself up.” The woman stated clad in navy blue scrubs with both hands on her wide hips, her glasses had slipped down her face toward her nose, her hair in a poofy updo. The second woman was in gray scrubs looked scared and unsure, like she was in a principal's office.

“Can I get some real food? You know instead of ice chips… and my pain meds.” he scoffed, moving the bed with the controls on the side rail, he was now sitting up at a 45-degree angle. He muttered, “You likely ate it all you fat bitch.” Dave was about to enter the room himself, sure his team were assholes, York knew he was an asshole that’s why he didn’t have a wife anymore, but causing trouble like this is not what they needed with a damn gunshot wound, least of all him being a dick to the staff. Navy scrubs waved her hand for the younger woman to leave and walked up to the side of the bed.

“The doctor will clear you for a diet after they examine you again. You’re free to act like an asshole. Just know the nurses are the ones who draw your blood, give you meds and let the doctors know if and when something is wrong with you. Meds also include pain meds, which given your condition and activity, you can wait after I see my other patients who have more severe wounds and missing limbs. I’ll be back later.” She states and walks out the room, she noticed Dave, “Is he yours? Tell him to simmer down and get his head on straight. I’ll be back but I have work to do instead of arguing with him. All things considered, he’s lucky it didn’t hit any nerves.”

“You sure you should tell me all that Miss?” Dave asked, glad that at least after he mended, he could be right back at work. The nurse shrugged and smiled, her hands back on her hips.

“I notice he hasn’t said anything else since you’ve been in this doorway so clearly, you’re in charge of him. I just let him know the situation. Good luck.” With that she walked down the hallway, pumped some hand sanitizer and entered another patient’s room, greeting them with an unfamiliar cheery voice. Dave appreciated her saying he was in charge, he also liked that she didn’t take any shit from his colleague. Dave stayed for a bit and told him he can’t be talking to the staff like that, they don’t need any heat on them. They had completed their job but caution never hurt.

The same nurse returned, scanned his wristband and asked how much his pain was. John Doe said a 7 and now a 9 with her back, Dave slapped his leg and then he said a 10 out of 10. The nurse shook her head and asked the locations and explained that she needed to chart it.

“My shoulder and leg.” He stated, trying to hit Dave back but he groaned in pain when he moved too much. She checked his IV and gave him some Dilaudid for his pain, within a few minutes he was out like a light.

“Honestly that’s better.” She remarked, getting rid of the needle and syringe in the sharps container, Dave spotted her name on her badge, Kiara. It was pretty and suited her, her badge reel was pinned to the front of her scrubs and pulled the top down a bit exposing her cleavage as she moved about the room tidying up and emptied his urinal he had used. Dave just watched her move, clearly, she wasn’t a new nurse and had a method to what she was doing. Color him intrigued. She cleaned her hands again and went back to her computer, taking a few items and setting them on the bedside table. “When he wakes up, tell him he can eat these until the dinner trays come up.” Two sandwiches with some graham crackers and two puddings were placed on the table, York looked quizzically at the amount of food. They were followed by two ice waters. “You’ve been sitting with him for the last few hours and haven’t left the room. I assumed you needed something to eat too. I don’t know your allergies though, so if you feel odd let me or someone else know. Your friend didn’t have any allergies listed; does he have any you know of?”

“None that I’m aware of, he should be happy with it, if not I’ll eat his too.” York grinned and started unwrapping his sandwich. It had been a while since someone had been kind. It was within her scope sure, but still it was nice. “Thank you, Miss Kiara. And I am sorry about before, I spoke to him about that.” The assassin looked up at her and smiled softly.

A small blush came across her face. She felt like she could pet him he looked so harmless. It was usual for family members or visitors to apologize for something a patient did. She had been a nurse for ten years now, Kiara knew the deal. Most people were going to assholes, just because they were in the hospital. It was a fact of healthcare. She did not, however encounter devilishly handsome men who looked like a cinnamon roll despite having the very strong feeling that he was anything but apologize. It was clearly a facade but one she appreciated. “You’re welcome. You don’t have to call me miss. Just let me know if you need anything else,”

“David, you can call me Dave.” He added taking a bite out of his sandwich and licking the mustard from his lips. Kiara let out a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding.

“Yes David, just let me know if you or John Doe over here needs anything.” She pointed to the patient still knocked out in the bed. York nodded and held the call light up, so she knew that he knew where it was. Nodding, the nurse went to leave before giving a quick glance back to see David eating the sandwich, further licking mustard off his lips, slowly. Kiara put a hand over her stomach and went back down the hallway, he was going to draw her back in that room, and she needed to round on other patients.

“His tongue is criminal.” She whispered to herself.

Subsequent shifts went by just fine. John Doe’s shoulder improved, and Dave kept coming to see visit him or rather her. He’d ask Kiara for updates despite the doctor just leaving the room to explain things to the patient. Kiara did not mind the attention, though it was when John Doe was going down for another x-ray to see how his shoulder was progressing, that things got slightly heated. The nurse tech hadn’t mentioned that Doe had gone down for a test, she went to round on him, and David was sitting in the room, it looked as though he was focused on whatever he was reading in a folder, she tried to creep back out of the room, but her foot bumped the trash can.

“Ah, shit.” A laugh came from across the room. A full set of pearly whites smiled at her, she decided to enter the room.

“Good afternoon, Kiara. How are you today?” He asked, it didn’t see today was as busy, he learned from the nursing staff already, never say quiet. All hell breaks loose. The nurse leaned against the door and smiled meekly.

“I’m doing fine today, Dave. It looks like John is…”

“Down at a test. X-ray think, they’re looking to see if most of the soft tissue damage has healed.” He replied and stood up, setting his papers and folder on his chair. “You don’t have to stay near the door. I wanted to ask you something.” Walking toward her slowly, he stopped when he got to the middle of the room, she looked nervous and tried to portray some semblance of calm. Her twitching lips gave her away.

“I see.” The nurse swallowed her spit. “Well did you need another update? Nothing has really changed in the last two hours.” She stated, trying to head off him asking, she needed to get out of the room. It felt like he might be able to smell her desperation to taste those lips. Her hands went back to her hips, she didn’t know what else to do with them. “Did you need anything before I leave?” Kiara needed to leave now, take 5 min in the bathroom with some deep breaths, again. She needed to do so every time she rounded on this room and saw Dave in here. Always licking his damn lips.

“I do.” York took a few more steps toward her, his long legs bringing him a foot away from her, while Kiara backed up against the door. She didn’t feel fearful that he would do anything to her, more like she would be fine if he did. “I need some updates on you, I don’t think you’re always okay after shifts.” He saw that she was cornered and her confidence all but gone. David leaned toward her ear as she put a hand to his chest as a reflex. A smirk formed on his lips.

“Are you Kiara? You like what you feel Peaches?” David sings deeply in her ear, the nurse’s breath hitched, turning her head in the opposite direction, the assassin’s hand cupped her cheek and turned her to face his, he placed his forehead on hers. “You always have an answer for me, something bothering you?” He cocked an eyebrow. “It might be something I can help you with after work. I want to see you out of those scrubs.”

Kiara was at a loss, of what to say to him. A nickname, this touching, which she initiated but he certainly set the stage for it. He wanted her out of her scrubs. Who says that? Too many things to consider and try and figure out. She was overwhelmed. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan which made her snap them back open. “…Dammit. Dave I…It’s…”

“Too much? Way too soon to say that, Peaches. Stay sweet and keep your phone on tonight.” York commanded, he kissed her cheek before placing both his hands on her generous hips and moving her to the side of the door. John Doe was back and the stretcher needed to come in the room. “Stay calm like your normally do. But make sure you leave at a decent hour to answer your phone.” He touched the small of her back and running his fingers over her belly upfront, once again assaulting her ear with his voice, “You’ll regret it if you don’t Peaches and so will I. Talk to you tonight.”

Kiara simply nodded and moved away from Dave to sign the transporter’s form that they had dropped of the patient. John Doe was too busy chatting with them to have seen them on the other side of the room. The nurse scrubbed on the form and swiftly left the room. York had a wide grin on his face, it was going to be an enjoyable phone call tonight.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @grogusmum , @mandoisapunk , @beefrobeefcal , @nissaimmortal , @morallyinept , @iamasaddie , @goodwithcheese , @fhatbhabie

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters and stories. 🤗

[abbatoirablaze]

Criminal Minds, Season 1, Episode 1

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings:  mentions of murder/death, cursing, angst.

Anastasia Garcia

“What about Gideon’s team?” another team leader asked, “why aren’t they going on the assignment?  We just got back a few hours ago.  We shouldn’t be heading right back out to the field.  Hell, Silverton and Garcia haven’t even gotten the paperwork on the last one done yet.”

“Because they are on assignment in Seattle for the time being,” Strauss growled, “now, are you going to follow my orders, or should I replace you with someone who will?”

“You’re already doing that, Erin!” your former team leader grumbled.

“You’re right,” she smirked, turning her attention to your new team leader, “Amanda.”

Your new team leader grumbled his response, but looked at you nonetheless as she took the file from Chief Strauss, “play time is over, Garcia.  Kick your sister out of the bullpen and back down to her dungeon and get the team together.  Here’s the file.  Make the copies and meet up at the round table.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your sister Penelope gave you a sad look and a half frown, “I guess that means it’s time we split up again, huh?”

“It’s for the best, Pen.  Your team’s probably going to be landing soon anyways...and they’ll be calling for your help in doing some research on the vics soon enough.  I’ll see you when I get home?”

“Oh, that’s already done,” she laughed, waving her hand at you before pulling you into a hug, “be safe out there, Ana...”

I will,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around your younger sister.  She gave a sad sigh and leaned into your thinner, more wiry frame, “don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“No promises!” she smiled as she pulled away and did a little hand gesture as if to say ‘rock on.’

“I mean it, trouble maker!” You called after her.  You shook your head and watched her walk off.  That was, until Chief Strauss cleared her throat and gave you an expectant look while Amanda held out the folder to you, “Sorry ma’am.”

“You should consider yourself lucky for how much I let you and your sister get away with here.  I’m not nearly as tolerant with other sibling sets as I am with the two of you,” she commented dryly, “the jet leaves in two hours, so make sure everyone is prepped accordingly.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“So how did we manage to pull the short straw?” Jerrod, one of the older gentlemen on the team asked, “I thought both Gideon and Hughes’ teams were ahead of us?”

“Gideon’s team is on assignment and Hughes’ team is in the briefing room on the other side of the bullpen as well, so they’re going to be out on assignment soon enough.  Luckily for us, they are staying on the East Coast which means we don’t have to share the second jet,” you reminded him.  He huffed and rolled his eyes, and you held onto your folders a little bit tighter, “look Jerrod, I know that you aren’t happy, and that we were supposed to have our week-long break, but this case is too big.  And the cases are falling in at higher rates to the BAU than they were in years prior.  The other liaisons have been pushing this case off because of the lack of involvement and procedure followed from the home department, but now, we can’t ignore it.  It came directly from Strauss.  I didn’t pick it.”

“I’m just saying, you could-“

Your own team leader, Amanda Silverton, held her hand up as to shush her subordinate, “Anastasia isn’t the one to blame for this, Jerrod.  She was going to finish up the paperwork with me on the last case and we were going to leave the office.  Erin tried to hand it off to Jack, and he passed it on to me.”

The supervisory special agent looked across the table to the team lead who would be stepping down at the end of the month, “that true, Jack?”

McGowan nodded, the Bostonian looking even more grumpy as he talked about your chief, “you know Strauss...she’s got a bug up her ass when it comes to our team.  Hates that I only agreed to step down and not retire.  But Amanda is telling the truth.  She handed it off to us.  Said that Gideon’s team was already out on assignment and that it was on us.”

Jerrod shook his head, muttering on about how he had to miss time with his family, but you looked back to your screen, “as I was saying...there’s been a lot of struggles with the Las Vegas PD.  They are stretched pretty thin between the strip as it is, and with this unsub managing to charm people right into his vehicle despite the numerous warnings out there, the mayor was pressing the department to ask for our help.”

“Reid, ain’t you from Vegas?”

She sighed, nodding her head, her loose blonde curls bobbed along with her as she nervously tucked some behind her ears, “yes, Michael, I’m from Vegas...but the unsub isn’t targeting locals, is he, Ana?”

“No... he’s targeting tourists!” you confirmed, “which is why we’d been pushing it off.  We had initially informed the Vegas PD that so long as they actually followed procedures by putting out alerts to everyone on being vigilant and by alerting the media, his victim pool would hopefully dry up.”

“Well, that’s just it,” she frowned pointing out the inaccuracy in the statement, “tourists aren’t spending their time watching the news when they’re in Vegas, they’re exploring the strip.  They’re out there on the streets.  They are seeing live shows and gambling away the money they spent months saving up.  They aren’t going to look at police warnings.  And with how many taxis are on the main drag on a daily basis picking up and dropping off fares, the unsub is going to have an unlimited supply of victims.  It was never going to dry up.”

“I think deep down we knew that,” you admitted, “but we hoped there would be enough of a deterrent there that the local station would be able to get some sort of suspect pool or that the abductions would dry up!”

“We should have been out there after the second victim,” Reid huffed, shaking her head as she wrote down some notes on her copy of the file, “stubborn cops though...don’t wanna play ball when they’re in over their heads til it’s too late.”

“And that’s why we need to get out there as soon as possible,” you reminded her, “now that they are actually following procedure, the mayor had reached out to Strauss personally.  The unsub takes his victims right off the street without anyone even noticing they are gone.  And according to the medical examiner, they are usually gone anywhere from two to four days, during which time they are tortured and raped, before being dumped just outside of the city limits.  He’s left samples of his DNA inside the women, which has shown the cops that he’s not currently in the system.  He’s an opportunistic offender, but he manages to stay organized, which means he’s especially dangerous.  This unsub has managed to accumulate a high body count in a short amount of time.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Jack asked, looking around the table, “get your go-bags kids.  Wheels up in twenty!”

“Twelve vics... in three months.  That’s wild,” Michael whistled as he watched the board being taken down.  You gave him a frown and he cocked his head to the side, “what?”

“This isn’t a game, Michael.”

“I know it ain’t,” he drawled, his Texan twang coming out, “just surprised is all...”

“Trust me, the surprise stops getting to you after a while,” William added in as he crossed his arms over his chest, “but thankfully, we got that son of a bitch before he got even more...just a shame we didn’t get here sooner.”

You felt a pang in your stomach, guilt taking over as you were one of the liaisons that had overlooked the case in search of ones with more immediate need.  You hadn’t felt that it warranted the team’s time, not when there were things like child abduction cases, and cases with a higher body count than the one you’d just finished.

“Who would have thought that chick would be right about how to find him though,” Michael scoffed as he looked between you and William, “how’s she on the team anyways?  Bit young, idn’t she?”

“The bureau made exceptions for her and her twin brother Dr. Spencer Reid.  They’re both geniuses.  Have multiple doctorates.  The whole shebang.” You pointed out, “and another thing we’ve noticed...she’s rarely wrong when she profiles...”

“She was awfully quiet for most of the time,” he admitted, “but she did also have homefield advantage.  She knew the city.  Boy if it’d been Hous-“

“Samantha Reid could run circles around you in Houston, too, Tex!” William teased, “she’s one hell of a woman.  Smart as a whip and wittier than anything I’ve ever met.”

“Her?”

“Seems surprisingly well adjusted, doesn’t she?” William asked, “she got all the social skills and she’s good about hiding how smart she is...not like her brother.  That kid’s an unbearable know-it-all.”

“She don’t seem all that smart...well, I mean-“

“Trust me when I say she could run circles round me and you,” William admitted, “she’s got her medical degree, and doctorates in psychology and criminology.  Her brother is a wunderkind and she’s just a plain god given wonder.”

“Ignore William,” you advised, elbowing the thirty-six-year-old, “he’s been in love with Sam since the day he was one of her instructors at the academy.  Made sure that Jack picked her for the team the second she graduated.”

“Oh...is she-“

“No...no...we’re not together,” William said quickly, “she’s just a hell of a woman.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen her with a significant other...or even talk about one.”

“It’s because she’s a private person, Bill!” Jack chuckled, smacking the agent upside the head, “will the three of you stop talking about Dr. Reid and get to the cars?  We’ve closed the case, and that nasty son of a bitch is halfway to being shivved in county for killing them kids when we surrounded him.”

“What about Reid?”

“She’s staying behind a day or two...”

“Her mom?” you asked sadly.

Jack nodded, “yeah.  It’s been a while...and I told her it’s fine.  We’re due for a break anyways.”

“What’s that sadness for?” Michael asked, “most people would be happy to-“

“Not that it’s any of your business, but her mom’s insane, kid!” Jack said firmly, cutting him off.  He turned and started towards the doors of the station, “come on.  Jet’s taking off in an hour.”

“W-what about he-“

“We don’t ask,” you said solemnly, “but when we have a case on the West coast that’s close enough, Sam stays for a day or two before she flies back...”

“Garcia, you better make sure that when we get back you and Silverton hide from that wicked bitch while you’re doing your paperwork.  I want my break to resume as planned.” Jack ordered, “I only have til the end of the month as the lead agent, and I want it to go easily.”

“Yes sir.”

Samantha Reid

“How’s she doing?”

“Dr. Reid...a pleasure to see you,” one of the nurses smiled, “we haven’t seen you or your brother in quite a while.  Been busy at the bureau?”

“Ye-yeah...I just-we have had a really heavy caseload lately,” you answered softly, “H-how’s she doing?  Have you guys had to make any more adjustments to her meds?”

“She’s having her good days and her bad.  The meds have been the same since the last time you were here and suggested the change...but she appears to have more good days,” she smiled softly, placing a hand gently on your shoulder, “you know...she asks about you and your brother a lot.  She’s over the moon when she gets your letters every day.”

“Can-Can I see her?”

“I-I’m afraid today is one of her bad days, sweetie,” she frowned, “your mom-we had to sedate her about an hour ago...you can try to sit with her for a bit if you like, but I don’t believe she’ll do much in the way of responding.”

You sniffled, quick in the way that you wiped your cheeks, “O-okay...”

“Dr. Reid?”

You looked back, not realizing that you’d already taken steps towards her, “y-yes Nurse O’Neil?”

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart!” she answered, “you know that she’ll just be happy to see you, even if she can’t quite express it.”

You nodded, trying to take it in stride as you made your way over to your mom.

“WH-what are you doing, Spencer?”

“Samantha, you know it’s the logical thing to do,” he said nervously, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he refused to meet your gaze.  You noticed his nervous tick as his hand tried to push the hair back again.  You watched as your older twin brother tried to look at you, but averted your gaze when he saw your unquestionable stare at him, “sh-we can’t look after her anymore, Sammy.”

“SPENCER LOOK AT ME!” you wailed, unable to stop the tears that were falling down your cheeks, “sh-she’s our mom.  We can’t do this to her.  We-“

“You’re being emotional, Samantha,” he said quickly, cutting you off as he tried to distance himself emotionally, “w-we can’t make this an emotional decision.  We’re both too busy now and we can’t support her.  She needs actual doctors.  Not just us playing doctor.  S-“

“I’ll watch her then!” you answered quickly, trying to look between him and the two men behind him, “I’ll take care of her.  I-“

“You’re not giving up our dream, Sammy,” he said quickly, finally meeting your gaze, “we-we always talked about how we wanted to be part of the FBI together, and I’m not-“

“I’m not putting mom in a hospital, Spencie!”

“I’m the eldest.” He said firmly, “and it’s not your choice, Samantha.  She gave me power of attorney when she started to really lose it, not you.  Not both of us.  She needs round the clock care.  And we can’t provide that.  She knew that I’d be able to make the decision when the time came.”

“S-so you’re just going to abandon her?” you whimpered, shaking your head at him as you stayed standing in front of her, “y-you’re just going to let her rot in some state run hospital and-“

“I’m doing what’s best for her, Sammy...I’m doing it because if I don’t do it now, then neither one of us will, and it’ll be too late!”

“Mom...”

Your heart ached as you walked around her.  She barely paid you any attention as she continued to stare out the window. 

You sat down in the chair beside her and reached over, taking her hand.  A heavy sigh left your chest as you looked at her.  She gave a soft whimper in response but didn’t say anything.

“I-it’s going to be okay mom...I-I’m here!” 

“Samantha?” she asked softly, cocking her head to the side, “Oh sweet Samantha, is that you?  Where’s your brother?”

“It’s just me mom,” you said sadly, leaning forward to brush away some of the hair from her face with your other hand, “I’m here...d-do you want me to read to you?  I brought your favorite!”

“That sounds lovely, Samantha,” she sighed, looking back to the window, “go get your brother though...you know how he feels when we read without him.”

“Yeah mom!” you whimpered tearfully as you reached into your messenger bag to retrieve the book, “just close your eyes, and I’ll get Spencer so we can read the book of poems...”

S1, E2

[shegeekery]

Splintered — Chapter 4

Chapters: 4/5 Fandom: Doctor Who, Loki TV series (crossover) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: N/A, but I plan to keep it as friendly to both Lokius and Sylkie as I can. Characters: The Doctor, Ruby Sunday, Mobius, Ouroboros, B-15, Casey, Sylvie, Natasha Romanov Summary: The Doctor and Ruby find themselves in a strange universe where the timelines are controlled by the God of Mischief. Is it any surprise that the TVA needs help from a Time Lord? Tagging: @teal-astronaut2846 (anyone else who would like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know)

Chapter Index: Chapter 1: I Have a Bad Feeling About This — Length: 2906 words Chapter 2: Ghost Squirrel — Length: 2738 words Chapter 3: Splintered — Length: 2852 words Chapter 4: Getting the Band Back Together (this post) — Length: 2496 words Chapter 5: Intervention — Length: 2496 words

“So, how does this work?” Ruby asked.

She was outside the War Room with B-15 and Mobius while they discussed the best way to convince Sylvie to help them. The council had given its blessing to Mobius’s plan and assigned him and B-15 to recruit Sylvie. In the meantime, the Doctor would work with O.B. to modify the Tardis’s trans-dimensional capabilities to allow Sylvie access to Yggdrasil’s roots. 

B-15 was still determined to keep Ruby under her watchful eye, so she would be going with them on the mission.

“I have the coordinates here,” B-15 told her, holding up her TemPad. “This will create a time door. We just step through, into Sylvie’s timeline.”

“What’s she up to these days?” Mobius asked. He had changed into a standard TVA-issue business suit before meeting with the council.

B-15 smiled. “She’s on Earth-1321. Seems she gave up on the whole ‘quiet life’ thing and joined the Avengers there.”

“Maybe they don’t have McDonald’s,” Mobius joked.

“Every timeline has a McDonald’s at some point in its history. Can’t get away from it no matter where you go.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I could go for one of those apple pies. Maybe a shake…”

B-15 smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. We’re going straight to the Avengers Tower. Which, in her timeline, is the Space Needle in Seattle. Their billionaire-genius runs a big software company.”

“I do love retro futurism.”

“Sounds like you’re missing the TVA already?”

Mobius grimaced. “Maybe I am, a bit. Still, being able to get out on the waves whenever I want is a bonus.”

Ruby tentatively raised her hand. “Excuse me, but what are Avengers, exactly?”

Mobius answered. “Superhero team. A lot of timelines have them, but the membership varies.”

“Like, honest-to-goodness superheroes? Are they all gods, like Sylvie and Loki?”

“No, most of them are human, or sometimes mutants or aliens.”

“Like Superman?”

“Something like that.” B-15 tapped on her TemPad and a doorway appeared in front of them. “Alright, we should get going. The sooner we can get in contact with Loki, the fewer timelines we’ll lose.”

Mobius stepped through the doorway and vanished. B-15 gestured to Ruby to follow him. Ruby held her breath, closed her eyes, and walked through the door. Opening her eyes, she found herself on a raised platform. Below her and Mobius, two women sparred in what was clearly a training room, with weights, punching bags, mats, and a variety of weapons hanging from the walls. A curved floor-to-ceiling window on one side of the room looked out over an ordinary-looking city, with a body of water and mountains in the distance.

Behind Ruby, B-15 stepped through and tapped on her TemPad again. The door vanished.

One of the women on the floor below wore a black, tight-fitting outfit with a utility belt fastened around her waist. Her red hair flew out behind her as she spun and kicked at her opponent, who was dressed in a similar tight-fitting outfit with leather chest armor in black, gold and green. The second woman’s hair was very dark, almost black — except for the tips, which had been bleached. She flipped backward to avoid the redhead’s kick and then, moving so quickly that Ruby could barely follow it, she crouched low and swept her opponent’s leg. The redhead fell to the floor, laughing.

“Not bad,” the redhead said, then, looking up past her companion, noticed that they weren’t alone. “Hey, who let you in here?”

The dark-haired woman looked up to see who she was talking to and froze. She said nothing for a moment, then turned to her companion. “It’s alright, Nat. I know them. Catch you later?”

‘Nat’ continued to stare suspiciously at the three people on the platform. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?”

The dark-haired woman, who Ruby decided must be Sylvie, shook her head. “No, I’m good. Same time tomorrow?”

The other woman smiled. “You know it.” She picked up a water-bottle and headed for a door opposite the window, casting another suspicious glance over her shoulder at the intruders.

Sylvie stayed where she was on the training floor. As soon as the door closed behind Nat, she said flatly, “The answer is ‘no’.”

“Oh, come on,” Mobius answered, grinning. “You haven’t even heard what it is yet. Love the hair, by the way. It suits you.”

The corners of Sylvie’s lips turned up slightly. “It’s good to see you too, Mobius. Now please leave.”

“I’m afraid we can’t. See, we have a big problem, and you may be the only one who can help us fix it.”

Sylvie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine, what’s going on? And who is she?” she asked, pointing at Ruby. “She doesn’t look much like a TVA agent.”

“This is Ruby,” B-15 answered. “She and a friend are helping us with the same problem.” Ruby smiled and gave Sylvie a small, shy wave.

“It might be better if we discuss this back at the TVA,” Mobius added. “It’s a bit complicated, but the short version is that we’re losing branches at the root and it’s likely to get worse if we don’t put a stop to it.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened. “Is Loki alright?”

“We’re…not sure. That’s why we need your help.”

Sylvie sighed and resignedly made her way up the stairs to the platform. B-15 reactivated the time door, and the four of them stepped through, back to the TVA.

--------------------------------------------------

“So you don’t think he’s actually aware of what’s happening?” Sylvie asked, prodding her fork at her untouched slice of key lime pie. Mobius had already finished his.

At the next table, B-15 and Ruby consumed their slices at a more dignified pace. Ruby watched Sylvie, surprised at how utterly human the goddess seemed. Maestro — and the other Pantheon gods the Doctor had told her about, like the Toymaker — were larger-than-life, in behavior and presence if not in size. Sylvie, in contrast, seemed small, almost fragile — and despite her no-nonsense attitude, there was a certain vulnerability about her.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Mobius answered. “But my guess is no.”

Sylvie nodded. “He may have slipped into a trance state. That’s something his mother probably taught him. It would make things easier for him out there, but it could also let his subconscious run wild.”

“I’d rather believe that than believe he’s doing it on purpose.”

Sylvie nodded. “Me too.” She shook her head and looked around the automat. “Last time I was in here, Loki told me that it was okay for us to play god because we are gods. Honestly, I didn’t really believe that. What kind of goddess spends her life running scared from a bureaucracy?”

“To be fair, you had us pretty scared for a while there,” Mobius answered wryly.

“But then, Loki went out there and…” She smiled ruefully. “I guess maybe he was right.”

“Yeah.”

“The thing is,” Sylvie continued. “We’re not just…abstract archetypes. We’re also people, and people are…messy, and full of contradictions, and we make mistakes. Some of us more than others.”

Mobius chuckled, and added, “And people need people”.

“Yeah. I’m just starting to understand that myself.”

“You have friends on your timeline?”

Sylvie’s expression softened. “Yeah. Good friends. People I would trust with my life, and vice-versa. That’s new for me.”

“Well, hopefully we can get this sorted out quickly and then you can go back to your timeline.” Mobius paused. “And me to mine.”

“Even if we can get through to him, get him to stop it, what’s to keep it from happening again?”

Mobius shrugged and shook his head, then gestured to her plate. “If you’re not gonna eat that, we should probably get down to O.B.’s workroom and see how they’re doing.” --------------------------------------------------

“O.B., hand me that spanner, will you?”

The Doctor and O.B. sat on the floor of the workroom, cobbling together a device that looked like a cross between a large toaster and a floor lamp. Tools and odd bits of hardware lay scattered on the floor around them.

O.B. reached across and handed over the tool in question. “So what’s that for?” he asked, gesturing to a separate component built into an old radio casing that the Doctor was attaching to the larger device. “Why do we need a wavelength analyzer?”

“Just something I think may come in handy.”

“Okay.” O.B. said cheerfully.

“Hey O.B., look who we found!” Mobius leaned over the counter. “How are things coming along here?”

Looking up, O.B. grinned. “Sylvie! Great to see you again! We’re really getting the band back together now.”

Sylvie, arms folded across her chest, smiled and nodded. “Hi, O.B.”

“We’re just about finished here. I wanted to put on at least one coat of paint, but the Doctor said it’s not necessary.”

“Correction,” the Doctor put in, as he tightened a zip-tie around the radio. “We’re done. Let’s get this into the Tardis.”

“The Tardis?” Sylvie asked.

“You’re gonna love this,” Mobius told her as the Doctor and O.B. hefted the device and the four of them joined B-15, Casey and Ruby in the hallway. The group made their way to the Tardis.

“Wait,” Sylvie complained, eyeing the police box warily. “We can’t all fit in there.”

The Doctor grinned and opened the door. Sylvie, frowning, stepped in — and stopped cold. B-15 and Casey edged in around her, the three of them looking around, dumbfounded.

“I stand corrected,” Sylvie said.

Mobius and Ruby joined them, followed by the Doctor and O.B. carrying the device, which they set down next to the door. The Doctor opened up a hidden cabinet in the interior wall, rummaged around, and pulled out a long cable. He handed one end to O.B., who plugged it into the device, while the Doctor took the other end and attached it to the Tardis console.

The Doctor remained at the console and rubbed his hands together. “Alright, I think we’re good to go, yeah?”

Mobius and O.B. nodded, and Ruby joined the Doctor at the console. The others just looked at each other, wondering what, exactly, was about to happen.

“Here we go,” the Doctor called, pulling a lever on the console. The Tardis groaned as it dematerialized.

“Yeah, it does that,” Mobius told the others.

A few moments later, the Tardis rematerialized, and the Doctor fiddled with some switches. “Ready, O.B.?”

“Ready!”

O.B. opened the door. They found themselves looking out at the roots of Yggdrasil.

“Is that safe?” B-15 asked.

“I’ve extended the Tardis shields out beyond the doorway. Air stays in, chronon radiation stays out,” the Doctor explained. “See that shimmery area there? Energy platform. We can walk out there a little ways. Once we get the dimensional equalizer working,” he indicated the device he and O.B. had built, “I’ll nudge us over a bit so Sylvie can reach the root. Mobius, any sign of Nidhogg?”

Mobius tentatively poked his head out the door, scanning the area for the serpent. “All clear.”

“Perfect.” The Doctor ran down the ramp to the doorway. He and O.B. carried the device outside and set it down near the far edge of the shimmering platform. The Doctor flipped switches on the top and on the radio-shaped gadget, then scanned the area with the sonic.

He smiled. “Yes! We’re standing outside of spacetime, in the same dimensional space as Yggdrasil and Loki. Ruby, twist that dial the way I showed you, one click at a time. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

At the console, Ruby did as instructed. The Tardis moved closer to the nearest root.

“A bit more…more…” he held up the sonic and pointed it toward the root as they moved. The sonic buzzed, and as they drew closer, the root pushed through the shield to hover over the platform. “There, stop!”

The Doctor looked back at Sylvie, who hovered uncertainly near the doorway. “Come on out. There’s room for everyone here.”

Sylvie and the others filed out through the door. Sylvie reached up, and seemed surprised when she was able to grasp the root.

“Okay,” Mobius said, encouragingly. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sylvie closed her eyes. A trail of green energy traveled from her hand and into the root. Her brow furrowed. After what seemed like a minute, Mobius quietly asked, “Anything?”

“I’m still trying to find him,” Sylvie answered. “This thing is massive. But he has to be connected to it at some point.”

Another minute went by, then another. Finally, she spoke again. “Got him.”

The silence stretched out again. “He’s blocking me. I don’t think it’s intentional — his mind did the same thing when he was sleeping. In fact, it feels like he’s sleeping.”

Mobius looked like he wanted to ask about that, but he stayed quiet.

“Loki, it’s me,” Sylvie whispered. “Please let me in.”

“What’s that?” Casey asked in alarm. He was looking past Sylvie and the root, at a strand of green that seemed to be moving toward them.

“Nidhogg!” the Doctor yelled. “I need to reinforce the shield. Sylvie, keep doing what you’re doing. Mobius, stay with her. Everyone else, back in the Tardis!”

With that, he dashed inside, followed by Casey, Ruby, B-15, and O.B. The Doctor flew up the ramp, flipped some switches on the console, then ran back down and opened another hidden cabinet, pulling out a length of rope and some clamps. He tied one end of the rope to the railing nearest the door and ran out onto the platform. “Mobius, catch!” He tossed the length of rope to Mobius as he ran past, heading for the dimensional stabilizer. “Tie that around your waist — keep it taut — and hold onto Sylvie. This may get bumpy.”

While Mobius tied the rope around himself, the Doctor knelt by the device and attached the clamps to its base, then used the sonic to activate them. “That should hold it. I hope.”

He looked up. The serpent was almost upon them. The enormous head looked big enough to swallow the Tardis whole. The Doctor ran back inside.

“What kind of weaponry do you have?” B-15 asked as he flew by her.

“None,” the Doctor replied without slowing. “Ever.”

“Great.”

The Tardis gave a violent shudder, knocking everyone inside the Tardis to the floor, except the Doctor, who clung to the console.

“It just rammed us!” Mobius shouted from the platform. He held Sylvie by the waist while she held tightly to the root with both hands. She continued to channel her magic through the root.

“Hang on!” the Doctor shouted.

“Yeah, thanks for the tip!” came the reply from Mobius.

The Doctor frantically ran around the console, manipulating the controls.

“It’s coming around again…” Mobius yelled.

They all looked at the doorway to see the serpent flying toward them, mouth wide open.

“I think it’s going to do more than ram us this time.” Mobius said, staring up at the creature’s enormous maw.

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