#i knew this episode would be a nightmare to color aND YET | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibin-down-here · 1 year

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just remembered something. i used to not post my writing, so this Hello From The Hallowoods fan episode i didn’t go through with just sort of sat here. but now i’m on writeblr!

pls reblog, i don’t have a lot of mutuals yet. thx!

Intro: CHILD OF THE ABYSS

The black rain falls softly on the darkened grass of an elaborately structured garden, and the dandelions remaining alone in color dare to mirror the night sky above. A brush dives into the night's darkness, the last greens of the forest, the flowing red of life, and carves out the shapes of your world upon simple hide. And in the disturbingly unshaped depths of your sleeping mind, dreamer, one far older than me drips you little drops of his vast observation, not unlike how the work of his companions’ craft taints your world.

I hope I shall join him in your nightmares tonight. I am an artist, shaping space into crystalline forms, painting colors across skies and in the corners of your vision. I mold reality as a brush to color galaxies, a pencil to sketch constellations, a pen to bring your story to paper. I am the disloyal intern to the threshold of the abyss, and your questionably loyal host, Rithithaim, arranging the stars to spell Hello from the Hallowoods.

Right now, my greater eye rests upon a garden. Children play around bushes of black roses. Their minds shape worlds far better than their own, and they are happy. Adults in dark garbs watch over them. Their guns may be ready to kill, but their hopes craft worlds for them too. Only one sees my vision's fractal distortions, for his craft is to observe. The theme of tonight's episode is good causes.

Story 1: CARE FOR THE LAND

Jamie Gravér did not like the color red. He prefered thinking about that as he stuffed another one of the intruders into the large, black, plastic bags. It was the color of all the bad things from outside the bountiful garden. It lay in the eyes of the froggy raiders that came from the water last week. It was the color his work always got onto his pristine white dress shirts, and he only had so many of those left. It was the color of the sun above, blinding him even on this cold winter day.

He pushed down his gray cap that said groundskeeping, one of his greatest finds, and continued on his groundskeeping. The next two were barely worth removing, half consumed already by the black rose stocks. They had, in a desperate struggle, almost pushed them over. Jamie noted that down on his clipboard for later, both for work and for himself. Why were these ordinary people so desperate to hurt the children of the garden, as the prime being told him?

Those thoughts he definitely shouldn’t have had and the music on his walkman, another one of his distractions and a privilege to have within the garden, almost let him not hear the voice calling out in the now quiet morning. Oh, but he heard. And this made everything so much more difficult. Aphrodite's Child scratched to a stop in his hands. They grasped the prime’s gift tightly. He hoped it was just another child of the garden coming running with another problem.

“Walt..?”, the voice repeated in front of him.

Jamie’s heart began to race. The voice had called from somewhere in the thorny dark bushes. His gloved hand parted the planted bulwark, but he already knew what he’d find. Olive eyes stared back at him from the darkness, oddly glowing but barely focusing on him as if peering through the bi-weekly fog. In an instant, he banished all thoughts from his brain. He could say traitorous words, he could do traitorous acts, but he could have never thought traitorous thoughts. “Do not think.”, he whispered to himself through gritted teeth. Then, finally, he turned to the boy he had to save, because the prime being would have him killed.

They found themselves face-to-face. The olive-eyed boy began to move his mouth again, but Jamie was, for once, quicker than the worst path of fate. He placed a soft hand over his rescue’s beard stubbles and as softly as the wind in the leaves around them, whispered: “If you wanna live, keep your mouth shut. You can be lucky Jones is out cold from the fight, but the new driver will still shoot you if you make yourself this obvious.”

The boy seemed to release some tension, although how there was any power left in his muscles anyways was as big a mystery to Jamie as the world beyond the treeline. From the tote bag he was given for “waste disposal”, Jamie produced a pair of finely engraved silver scissors. Usually, they served to carve the garden’s terrible spawn into appreciable shapes, but today they worked instead to cut away the black claws on his mind and the grasping branches on the poor soul before him.

He allowed himself one look at the intruder now shaking and gasping for air before him and watched his mind go through the usual steps for children of the garden he had to save. Barely distorted, but malnutritioned and a broken leg. Bleeding. He’d need to get him to the Sisters of the River-

“Don’t think of that now. Get him to safety.”, he forced out to himself. His small hut, cramped in on the hillside under the common housing, wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of safety, but it was better than the common grounds, constantly guarded by the shades in dark hoods and their assault rifles, or even worse, the forests outside.

He grabbed one of his gigantic trash bags, pulled it open and with a gasp from both him and his rescue, lifted the outsider inside. Only ever handling the dead didn’t exactly make him graceful with the living, so he placed a gloved finger on the stranger’s lips before pulling the bag just short of shut. Trying his hardest to look like he wasn’t carrying a whole person, Jamie put the newly packed and luckily not squirming package under his arm and emerged into the cold wind outside the hedge.

Winter’s gust knocked the breath out of him almost as much as the realization of his betrayal threatened to. Sturdy boots left another trail of steps in the snow back to the pickup. Another three bags onto the pile on the back. Music, deep breaths of freezing cold air, calm. A heart beating slightly less blazingly fast. Jamie swung into the free seat.

“Out of bags.”, he got out, trying not to make eye contact with the new driver. She adjusted her suit’s sleeve and pushed back her hat.

“But we just got here…”, she replied, her piercing voice filled with disappointment.

“Out of bags, Marissa,” Jamie shot back with a tired glare. Her blue eyes met his, green framed in black, for a few seconds. She looked down. The ignition fired.

He may be reported for skipping work, Jamie thought as the truck began rolling across the garden’s listless winterscape, past beds of unripe fruits of power and beauty. That was the good outcome here.

Jamie Gravér did not like the color red. But, among the black and white of the garden, the outside world had shown him a color he did like. It was a vibrant olive-green.

Interlude 1: FREE MUSEUM ADMITTANCE

Nature is beautiful, dreamers. The forests truly are their own artists, creating beautiful shapes, graceful beings and scenes like from a script. Appreciate the vibrant exhibit in the background to your mundane life, and be even more glad you get in for free.

Keep an eye open especially around the western beaches of the Hallowoods, where other artists have joined nature for a collaboration. Misshapen animals, bleeding plants and lighting intensely framing one spot no matter the time of day are a good sign you’ve been charitably let in to view one of their new collections.

This is a great honor, dreamers, and you should mind your etiquette in the following moments. Screaming and running away from your distorted, dying reflection is considered extremely rude. Instead, simply stand and appreciate the work, hmm-ing occasionally. Stay quiet, and most importantly, never touch the artwork. Their art demands your respect. We go now to one who must be respectful.

Story 2: HELP ON THE BED OF A PICKUP TRUCK

Dark clouds lingered around Sammy. Literally, as they were shaping them to hang above the portrait, figuratively over the stout old farmer to be painted. They pushed back their round glasses and examined their paints. There was nothing new to be seen in the smeary spots of gray and brown, it told no stories about the motif, but even staring down at the rotting boards of the porch would’ve been more helpful than looking back up at their customer.

John T. Cald was a supremely annoying man to work with. He saw no beauty in the world, claimed it had gone bad and heaven was the only good left to be painted. All around spiteful and bitter, not least because he must’ve skipped a century to end up with his views. And today hadn’t made it any better.

Sammy looked back up, careful to avoid the old man’s sour glares. Where they found furrowed brows, they depicted a heroic gaze, where they found a slumped down posture, they sketched a head carried on high.

John had said the storm gathering on the slopes above was hurting him in the bones, but John said a lot of thruthless things. The letter had laid open on the solid-oak dinner table all morning. What part of the message from up north disturbed their patron didn’t really bother Sammy, but the man had been in the mood for colors less bright than his off-white tablecloth, so his state of mind must be dark. To Sammy, too, the news were black as crypt, but for wildly different reasons.

Another glance up let the brush color in leather vest and flannel shirt, elegant swings shrouded them in holy light. There was little to be done about the man’s terrible sense of style in dress and art. This was the agreement, and John was a rigid man. Sammy looked down at their paint-stained boots, the old green and yellow spots. Hope. There was hope to bend the agreement.

Without looking up, the painter raised their voice. Not far, mind you, but they did raise it. “I’m leaving after this piece, y’know.. Sir.”, came across their dry lips. John's expression soured from spoiled milk to lemon. “You will do no such thing, girl.” came the response from behind the canvass, the last word spat out with contempt. “You’re not running back to your little scout camp before you’re done here. Besides, without our man around, they should do just fine to survive without you.”

Sammy had been dunked into a little black stream once, as a child. This didn’t feel much different. There was too much coming at them, and they couldn’t focus on it. Don’t let him slow you down with the water, he’s still holding you down. “I’ll unload half the corn. Most of the work is done anyways. Please sir, they’re in danger!”, they yelped back.

There was a tiny lie in there, as white as a daisyflower. The truck with the motorcycle, their bags and the corn had been primed to depart since the sun crested the arc it was now ending in the shingles. Guilt had struck them last minute, and they’d unloaded half the corn already.

The farmer heaved his weight up from the lawnchair. His downward glare had no disapproval left, that dark green tone had now been covered over by the flaring red of anger. “They’ve always been. You don’t get it, do you, girl? I am not allowing you to leave. That is final.”, he indignantly yelled back. An explosion of movement followed. Sammy barely noticed him lunging forward before the paint and canvas were thrown aside, leaving a white streak like a healed scar across the graying porch boards.

unique sfx here, a bell or alarm rings, Rith gives in as if it is a command and a sort whistling can be heard

the next segment should also have slightly higher audio quality (+ ad-read tone obv)

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To sign up, simply yell at the void above you and sleep in sight of the stars. If the phrase you used includes a curse on my name, you’ll even receive your first three months free of the horrors unveiled to you by knowledge beyond your feeble mind’s limits.

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We return now to Sammy, the painter.

Story 2, Continued: HELP ON THE BED OF A PICKUP TRUCK

The sudden lunge pushed Sammy off their feet. Their vision swung from the darkening blue of the sky to the red in the clouds as their head was thrown back, and then, with a cacophony of dry cracks in the railing, from red to black.

Even dazed, enveloped in this void, Sammy’s emotions raced from worry, to fear, to panic. Not just for themselves, their own creation and their life, but also the home they left behind starving and down half their fuel to a gamble. But the void had not come to stay.

With the color’s return in a swirling, senseless ocean of hues, came also sound. It was muffled, but far less abstract than the painting before their eyes. The rushed steps of farmhands crossing the dusty yard. A pained groaning, filling them with a twisted joy.

Feeling returned next, the feeling of weathered hands pinning them down, the weight behind those hands, and the shapes of the hard, dry earth stabbing into their back. Sammy‘s mind ached trying to put everything back upright and in order. Through the chaos of sense broke a gruff voice.

“…get her inside, and make sure she doesn’t leave. Mat, the truck. Wouldn’t want her running away.”

Panic burst out of the void to join them here. If these assholes took the truck, there‘d be no way out. No way back to the people, the home that needed them. They called on all the strength they had, but they were a scrawny kid, up against more weight than they could ever lift, and they could barely move to begin with. Darkness crept back onto the corners of their vision from the strain.

Their fingers scraped in the dirty mixture of dust and paint for grip. To no avail. Again, as always in this damned life, all they could do was paint.

They let darkness back into their mind, filled this time not with fear, but with thoughts. There was some power in painting, as Cald had said. That asshole was receptive to it, that‘s what this project of his was for. It was a longshot, but it was the only shot they had left.

Dismissing the abyss, with all the world swelling over them, there wasn‘t much artistry to be done in dry earth and drying paint. Two simple motions, barely notable to the not so temporary workers rushing over to lock them away.

Their vision had not quite returned, but their other senses screamed in unison as they were thrown across the yard, slamming into every one of the dirt's many ridges and tracks along the way. Their vision went red again, and not from the glow of the retreating sun, as the uncaring eyes of the cosmos were left almost alone to glare down at them now. Everything burned, and that kept them aware. A tiny victory lap for that and the sounds of cracking wood as the farmer had smashed through the deck, would be in order, but for now they just had to push on.

The stretching shadows of the farmhands and their shouts of witchcraft had already reached them when they were finally out of the dent they had made in the side panels of a truck. No thought was left in their ringing skull on whether it was the right one, they just swung through the door and reached for the key.

The trusty leather wrapped grip turned. Short jubilation filled their heart. The motions of departure were dismally routine, and the passing glimpses of the gearstick, the gas pedal, the man with the shotgun in the window, the driveway and the man blocking it barely passed their mind as they went through it. A final meaty thud shook the truck and their soul, and then the red ford rolled down the highway, trailing red along a crimson dusk, and toward a new magenta dawn.

Interlude 2: A WILDLIFE WARNING

Dreamers, the Hallowoods forest service would like to remind you that, no matter how cute or helpful they may seem, at the end of the day, the endemic “hearses” or “black cars” are carnivores. They are dangerous, and your behavior around them should take their extraordinary ability and drive to kill into consideration.

Recommended procedure during a car encounter is, importantly, not to run or hide. You cannot outrun the animal, and hiding reveals only your weakness to its prying eyes. Back away to the grasping treeline or any other available cover and remain agile and ready to dodge if it charges. Attempt to appear large and threatening, making the vehicle less likely to see you as prey.

In these forests, a well prepared hiker's backpack should always include traffic cones, though white paint will do if you don’t have any. Pay attention also to the time of year and your surroundings. In the spring or summer, you may run into cubs or two-seaters, which, while harmless, should be treated like adults, because their nearby mothers are even more deadly. In the winter, if you find yourself near junkyards or parking lots, maintain caution. Cars may not be dangerous, resting there with their engines off, but if you wake them up, they will likely have quite the appetite. We go now to one dealing with hunger.

Story 3: SERVICE WORK

Rob was startled awake by the ringing of a tiny silver bell afixed above the glass door. Immediatly, without even having raised his head of blond hair tucked under a branded cap, he resented the customer. Sleep on a greasy fastfood resteraunt counter wasn‘t good, every part of him regretted the choice to sleep at all, but it was better than the alternative. Everlasting shifts didn‘t leave many options.

With all the energy he could muster, and against the vehement protest of his neck, he rose. The round tables, the leather couches and barchairs and the huge clouds of dust in the stuffy room’s air became faintly illuminated in golden light as his view swept across them to the entrance. There, it carved two tense, cowering figures out from the early mornings darkness. The light made them jump. The tall one in a tattered tuxedo reached for what could only have been a gun.

Robert Smith, the cashier, dug deep within him and found a smile suitable for costumers. Light flooded from deep within, and with a snap, the resteraunt awoke. Neon lights screamed alive on the ceiling, and with a voice from somewhere behind him, Rob filled the dining area with a booming, slightly radio-distored upbeat phrase:

„What can i get started for you today?“. Tuxedo raised a once-shiny revolver. His partner grabed his shoulder, bare through the tears in the fabric. „We just need spot to hide,“ that small one in the skirt managed to return. Their faces were clenched, and Tuxedo seemed ready kill.

Already exhausted, Rob simply smiled and waved them along „Right this way, you two.“ came through his bright smile. The glow began to fade already. A quick glance to the giant, 8-shaped shift clock, and he added: „And hurry along, we have a routine customer coming in shortly. We will discuss payment later.“ The smile remained on his lips, the new-arriving seriousness surely revealing it to be a mask.

He wanted to ask what these odd fellows were doing along the long quieted freeway outside, but everything left of his life held him back: The energy shortly needed, his managers watchful, though unwatchable, presence, even a tiny little fear for his life in the face of a revolver.

The customers hurried through the now dark establishment to a heavy, metallic door. Clattering could be heard behind, slowly seizing with the fading light. Suspicious glances and a barrel tracked him as the figures rushed across the open space, keeping to shadows cast by the neon sign outside. When it finally fell shut, stirring up a huge cloud of dust, Rob and the room had returned, almost, to sleep.

He paid the survivors no mind again already. They were not a threat to the brand, and the faint glow among the rafters had deemed them unimportant. His light illuminated only the clock, and exactly as the third pointer struck four a regular visitor emerged, at first as a violet dot at the end of the parking lot. It took that suited menace only three strikes of the pointer to cross that mile-wide barren landscape. And then, already, the figure stood imposing, just a bit taller than the door it peered through. Again, the front came to life, a huge letter blazing above the intruder like a twisted halo of a terrible god’s blessing. The door swung open, and the usual exchange began, every word dripping with the contempt of people perfectly capable of murdering each other, extinguishing each others history completely.

„What can i get started for you today?“

„I am here to discuss aquisition.“

„My manager will be with you shortly. Please take a seat.“

„Hurry them up, won‘t you? The Botulus Corporation would be extremely disappointed to hear that I have been left waiting.“

Outro: GOOD CAUSES

Causes. A grasp for purpose in your insignificant heart. A small thing, cascading beyond itself, or a small thing wanting to do so. You see so far beyond them in every image of your future, but they are the saplings to your dreaming aspirations. They are the drive beyond all that wishes, some yours surely wish to quench. Hold on to yours, dreamer, for among those that love and that know, they surely must be good.

Mine too are, of that I am certain, for holding some beauty when the abyss brings all to rest is the only reckoning we have in the face of its grand totality. Rest assured, dreamer, that I am letting your causes flow into mine, and that those who attract my eye shall see their strings completed for this grand tapestry. Leave now to strive on your own once more, and the string will be spun a little further on your return. For these visions grand upon your dreams diminutive, I am your loyal host Rithithaim, waiting faithfully for your return to the Hallowoods.

#writeblr #writing #writers #hello from the hallowoods #audio drama #fan episode

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l-artemisia-del-secolo · 3 years

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Too many options

Yelena Belova x reader, a lil bit angsty, a lil bit fluffy, mentions of mindcontrol, happy ending as usual, adjusting to ordinary life

You wanted this evening so badly. Dreaming about it for weeks. Finally everything was close to normal. No alien invasions or governmental missions. No nightmares or tears for both of you for almost a month. You were expecting an ordinary date. As much as it can be under your circumstances.

But Yelena wasn't there yet. You were waiting in your meeting spot for almost an hour. It wasn't something new. Out of a sudden she could have a briefing or a mandatory status report. But she always managed to at least send a text. When both of you were particularly lucky she even could call you.

But this time it was different. Not a text, not a call. You yourself tried to contact her a few times. Her number was unavailable.

You had a bad feeling about this. How could you not. You knew too well the nature of her work. The possible outcomes and consequences. The ones that didn't let you sleep at night. Horrific dreams of her possible injury, even death. Yelena tried so hard to help you fight this, while being simultaneously consumed by other fears herself.

Adjusting was hard. Especially in the first few months of your relationship. It was mere weeks when you met after she was freed of mind control.

And in the beginning it was intense. Sure, Avengers did provide the resources for needed support. But it was you who had to deal with mood swings, depressions or anger issues.

Adjusting to the real world was hard, exhausting and painful.

Yelena warned you though in the beginning. She's not used to ordinary life. But with you she'd like to try.

It was getting ridiculous, so you went home.

What you saw there shocked you.You didn't know whether Yelena was there or not so opted to use your own key.

There were piles of clothes on the floor in the hallway. Yelena's clothes. What the hell was going on?

"Lena, are you here?"

No answer. You carefully proceeded to the next room. The same thing. Piles of shirts and jeans, jackets and coats were just lying around. They were not torn or anything. Just there, waiting to be picked up and worn.

"Yelena?" You called again, hoping for at least something.

When you finally reached your bedroom you were almost afraid to get inside.

"Love, are you there?" You asked as you were opening the door.

You sighed with relief. But it lasted only a second.

Your woman was sitting on her knees near the biggest stack of staff. Her hair tangled, eyes red from tears. She was wearing a weird mix of pajama pants and her bra.

As soon as you understood the surrealism of the situation you rushed to her.

"Babe, what's happened?" You clumsily fell on your knees in front of her.

She didn't react, blankly staring at the mirror, which you now were blocking.

"Малыш, что случилось? (Babe, what happened?)" You said in your broken Russian. That was the trick that you often used to calm her down. It was her idea in fact. She taught you this language herself.

Yelena heard you and slowly opened and closed her mouth.

"Лена, кто-то был здесь? Тебя ранили? (Lena, someone was here? Are you hurt?)"

You carefully examined her face, barely touching her. No blood, no visible injury. Same with the neck and shoulders.

It took her almost five minutes to properly feel you on her skin. She was confused, but she was finally there with you.

"What, what are you doing?" She removed your hand from her body. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I mean..."

"I said, I'm fine." Yelena raised her voice, but immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I know you have questions. But I did it myself."

"Yourself?" You echoed in disbelief.

"Да. (yes)" She got on her feet. And put on the nearest t-shirt. "I... It's hard to explain."

"Do you want something. Anything?" You couldn't fathom what was going on. But you were sure that Yelena thought of this as "I can handle this on my own" situations. And that wasn't a good sign.

"No." She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I've missed our dinner."

"It's fine. We'll have another one." You gave her a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, if It doesn't happen next time too." She laughed bitterly. "With me you never know, ha? Kinda like a time bomb."

You tried to approach her, but she shook her head.

"It's always like that. Aren't you tired of it? We're having a great day, week, month. But I always find a way to screw it up."

She hated herself during moments like this. Always feeling like she still didn't have control over her own life. Who knew where and when the next outburst could happen. And what could trigger it.

"It's not your fault." You once again tried to reach out to her. This time she stepped away from you.

"Right." She let out a groan. "But it's my fault. But somehow it's because of me, we're standing in this mess instead of enjoying our life together."

She was so angry, so frustrated. This was supposed to be your romantic evening. Personal, intimate. All those things she was always denied.

"We are enjoying ourselves. It's just an episode..."

"Really? That's how you call it?" Yelena was almost hysterical. "A fucking episode. Do you even..."

She clenched her fists, and the vein on her neck could burst at any moment. She started pacing the room, avoiding at any cost looking at you.

"You want to know what happened? I was preparing, you know, choosing the clothes. Started thinking about it. And I..." She suddenly stopped, trying at least to calm her breath. "I... I got overwhelmed. I didn't know what to do. You won't believe it, but suddenly I felt a burden of responsibility... What should I wear, how should I combine clothes and how others would perceive me. How you would. What color, what style...should I copy someone or I'm good enough myself...I...I was always told what to wear and now..."

You didn't care about her protests anymore. You hugged her, immediately feeling her heartbeat, her fire on your skin. She was trembling all this time, devouring herself from inside, killing another Yelena, the one that she didn't control.

"I... I..." She couldn't stop herself. Weeping and shaking, she was finally defeated by reality.

It took her a few minutes to come back to you. You felt it. She kissed your collarbone, asking for attention.

"I'm with you, babe. I can only imagine what it's like. Being overwhelmed by options, by your own responsibility, by the consequences of the actions you yourself took. But it's ok." You were gently stroking her hair. "You hear me? It's ok. We... We are gonna work on that. Simplify everything. Reduce the number of options. And it's not about clothes, it's a...about everything. We'll get there. I promise."

"You're going to throw everything away?" Yelena whispered.

"Maybe. temporary, I guess. We should have thought it through. Not buy mindlessly everything we see."

"Even my vests?' Yelena sounded so timid. She was hiding in your embrace, putting herself together again.

"Of course not. Кем ты меня считаешь? (who do you think I am?). We're keeping the vests at any cost." You could feel Yelena smiled so close to your heart.

You both knew there was so much hard work ahead. Overcoming and fighting, breaking and building. But you were ready for it. Both of you. It was worth it.

#black widow 2021 #black widow fic #marvel self insert #yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you

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army-of-mai-lovers · 3 years

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in which I get progressively angrier at the various tropes of atla fandom misogyny

tbh I think it would serve all of us to have a larger conversation about the specific ways misogyny manifests in this fandom, because I’ve seen a lot of people who characterize themselves as feminists, many of whom are women themselves, discuss the female characters of atla/lok in misogynistic ways, and people don’t talk about it enough.

disclaimer before I start: I’m not a woman, I’m an afab nonbinary person who is semi-closeted and thus often read as a woman. I’m speaking to things that I’ve seen that have made me uncomfy, but if any women (esp women existing along other axes of oppression, e.g. trans women, women of color, disabled women, etc) want to add onto this post, please do!

“This female character is a total badass but I’m not even a little bit interested in exploring her as a human being.”

I’ve seen a lot of people say of various female characters in atla/lok, “I love her! She’s such a badass!” now, this statement on its own isn’t misogynistic, but it represents a pretty pervasive form of misogyny that I’ve seen leveled in large part toward the canon female love interests of one or both of the members of a popular gay ship (*cough* zukka *cough*) I’m going to use Suki as an example of this because I see it with her most often, but it can honestly be applied to nearly every female character in atla/lok. Basically, people will say that they stan Suki, but when it comes time to engage with her as an actual character, they refuse to do it. I’ve seen meta after meta about Zuko’s redemption arc, but I so rarely see people engage with Suki on any level beyond “look at this cool fight scene!” and yeah, I love a cool Suki fight scene as much as anybody else, but I’m also interested in meta and headcanons and fics about who she is as a person, when she isn’t an accessory to Sokka’s development or doing something cool. of course, the material for this kind of engagement with Suki is scant considering she doesn’t have a canon backstory (yet) (don’t let me down Faith Erin Hicks counting on you girl) but with the way I’ve seen people in this fandom expand upon canon to flesh out male characters, I know y’all have it in you to do more with Suki, and with all the female characters, than you currently do. frankly, the most engagement I’ve seen with Suki in mainstream fandom is justifying either zukki (which again, is characterizing her in relation to male characters, one of whom she barely interacts with in canon) or one of the Suki wlw pairings. which brings me to--

“I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!”

now, I will admit, two of my favorite atla ships are yueki and mailee, and so I totally understand being interested in these characters’ dynamics, even if, as is the case with yueki, they’ve never interacted canonically. however, it becomes a problem for me when these ships are always in the background of a zukka fic. at some point, it becomes obvious that you like this ship because it gets either Zuko or Sokka’s female love interests out of the way, not because you actually think the characters would mesh well together. It’s bad form to dislike a female character because she gets in the way of your gay ship, so instead, you find another girl to pair her off with and call it a day. to be clear, I’m not saying that everybody who ships either mailee or yueki (or tysuki or maisuki or yumai or whatever other wlw rarepair involving Zuko or Sokka’s canon love interests) is nefariously trying to sideline a female character while acting publicly as if she’s is one of their faves--far from it--but it is noteworthy to me how difficult it is to find content that centers wlw ships, while it’s incredibly easy to find content that centers zukka in which mailee and/or yueki plays a background role.

also, notice how little traction wlw Katara ships gain in this fandom. when’s the last time you saw yuetara on your dash? there’s no reason for wlw Katara ships to gain traction in a fandom that is so focused on Zuko and Sokka getting together, bc she doesn’t present an immediate obstacle to that goal (at least, not an obstacle that can be overcome by pairing her up with a woman). if you are primarily interested in Zuko and Sokka’s relationship, and your queer readings of other female characters are motivated by a desire to get them out of the way for zukka, then Katara’s canon m/f relationship isn’t a threat to you, and thus, there’s no reason to read her as potentially queer. Or even, really, to think about her at all.

“Katara’s here but she’s not actually going to do anything, because deep down, I’m not interested in her as a person.”

the show has an enormous amount of textual evidence to support the claim that Sokka and Katara are integral parts of each other’s lives. so, she typically makes some kind of appearance in zukka content. sometimes, her presence in the story is as an actual character with layers and nuance, someone whom Sokka cares about and who cares about Sokka in return, but also has her own life and goals outside of her brother (or other male characters, for that matter.) sometimes, however, she’s just there because halfway through writing the author remembered that Sokka actually has a sister who’s a huge part of the show they’re writing fanfiction for, and then they proceed to show her having a meetcute with Aang or helping Sokka through an emotional problem, without expressing wants or desires outside of those characters. I’m honestly really surprised that I haven’t seen more people calling out the fact that so much of Katara’s personality in fanon revolves around her connections to men? she’s Aang’s girlfriend, she’s Sokka’s sister, she’s Zuko’s bestie. never mind that in canon she spends an enormous amount of time fighting against (anachronistic, Westernized) sexism to establish herself as a person in her own right, outside of these connections. and that in canon she has such interesting complex relationships with other female characters (e.g. Toph, Kanna, Hama, Korra if you want to write lok content) or that there are a plethora of characters with whom she could have interesting relationships with in fanon (Mai, Suki, Ty Lee, Yue, Smellerbee, and if you want to write lok content, Kya II, Lin, Asami, Senna, etc). to me, the lack of fandom material exploring Katara’s relationships with other women or with herself speak to a profound indifference to Katara as a character. I’m not saying you have to like Katara or include her in everything you write, but I am asking you to consider why you don’t find her interesting outside of her relationships with men.

“I hate Katara because she talks about her mother dying too often.”

this is something I’ve seen addressed by people far more qualified than I to address it, but I want to mention it here in part because when I asked people which fandom tropes they wanted me to talk about, this came up often, but also because I find it really disgusting that this is a thing that needs to be addressed at all. Y’all see a little girl who watched her mother be killed by the forces of an imperialist nation and say that she talks about it too much??? That is a formational, foundational event in a child’s life. Of course she’s going to talk about it. I’ve seen people say that she doesn’t talk about it that often, or that she only talks about it to connect with other victims of fn imperialism e.g. Jet and Haru, but frankly, she could speak about it every episode for no plot-significant reason whatsoever and I would still be angry to see people say she talks about it too much. And before you even bring up the Sokka comparison, people deal with grief in different ways. Sokka repressed a lot of his grief/channeled it into being the “man” of his village because he knew that they would come for Katara next if he gave them the opportunity. he probably would talk about his mother more if a) he didn’t feel massive guilt at not being able to remember what she looked like, and b) he was allowed to be a child processing the loss of his mother instead of having to become a tiny adult when Hakoda had to leave to help fight the fn. And this gets into an intersection with fandom racism, in that white fans (esp white American fans) are incapable of relating to the structural trauma that both Sokka and Katara experience and thus can’t see the ways in which structural trauma colors every single aspect of both of their characters, leading them to flatten nuance and to have some really bad takes. And you know what, speaking of bad fandom takes--

“Shitting on Mai because she gets in the way of my favorite Zuko ship is actually totally okay because she’s ~abusive~”

y’all WHAT.

ok listen, I get not liking maiko. I didn’t like it when I first got into fandom, and later I realized that while bryke cannot write romance to save their lives, fans who like maiko sure can, so I changed my tune. but if you still don’t like it, that’s fine. no skin off my back.

what IS skin off my back is taking instances in which Mai had justified anger toward Zuko, and turning it into “Mai abused Zuko.” do you not realize how ridiculous you sound? this is another thing where I get so angry about it that I don’t know how useful my analysis is actually going to be, but I’ll do my best. numerous people have noted how analysis of Mai and Zuko’s breakup in “The Beach” or Mai being justifiably angry with him at Boiling Rock or her asking for FUCKING FRUIT in “Nightmares and Daydreams” that says that all of these events were her trying to gain control over him is....ahhh...lacking in reading comprehension, but I’d like to go a step further and talk about why y’all are so intent on taking down a girl who doesn’t show emotion in normative ways. obviously, there’s a “Zuko can do no wrong” aspect to Mai criticism (which is super weird considering how his whole arc is about how he can do lots of wrong and he has to atone for the wrong that he’s done--but that’s a separate post.) But I also see slandering Mai for not expressing her emotions normatively and not putting up with Zuko’s shit and slandering Katara for “talking about her mother too often” as two sides of the same coin. In both cases, a female character expresses emotions that make you, the viewer, uncomfortable, and so instead of attempting to understand where those emotions may have come from and why they might be manifesting the way they are, y’all just throw the whole character away. this is another instance of people in the fandom being fundamentally disinterested in engaging with the female characters of atla in a real way, except instead of shallowly “stanning” Mai, y’all hate her. so we get to this point where female characters are flattened into one of two things: perfect queens who can do no wrong, or bitches. and that’s not who they are. that’s not who anyone is. but while we as a fandom are pretty good at understanding b1 Zuko’s actions as layered and multifaceted even though he’s essentially an asshole then, few are willing to lend the same grace to any female character, least of all Mai.

and what’s funny is sometimes this trope will intersect with “I conveniently ship this female character whose canon love interest is one of the members of my favorite non-canon ship with another female character! gay rights!”, so you’ll have someone actively calling Mai toxic/problematic/abusive, and at the same time ship her with Ty Lee? make it make sense! but then again, maybe that’s happening because y’all are fundamentally disinterested in Ty Lee as a character too.

“I love Ty Lee so much that I’m going to treat her like an infantilized hypersexual airhead!”

there are so many things happening in y’alls characterization of Ty Lee that I struggled to synthesize it into one quippy section header. on one hand, you have the hypersexualization, and on the other hand, you have the infantilization, which just makes the hypersexualization that much worse.

(of course, sexualizing or hypersexualizing ANY atla character is really not the move, considering that these are child characters in a children’s show, but then again, that’s a separate post.)

now, I understand how, from a very, very surface reading of the text, you could come to the conclusion that Ty Lee is an uncomplicated bimbo. if you grew up on Western media the way I did, you’ll know that Ty Lee has a lot of the character traits we associate with bimbos: the form-fitting pink crop top, the general conventional attractiveness, the ditzy dialogue. but if you think about it for more than three seconds, you’ll understand that Ty Lee has spent her whole life walking a tightrope, trying to please Azula and the rest of the royal family while also staying true to herself. Ty Lee and Azula’s relationship is a really complex and interesting topic that I don’t really have time to explore at the moment given how long this post is, but I’d argue that Ty Lee’s constant, vocal adulation is at least partially a product of learning to survive at court at an early age. Like Mai, she has been forced to regulate her emotions as a member of fn nobility, but unlike Mai, she also has six sisters who look exactly like her, so she has a motivation to be more peppy and more affectionate to stand out.

fandom does not do the work to understand Ty Lee. as is a theme with this post, fandom is actively disinterested in investigating female characters beyond a very surface level reading of them. Thus, fandom takes Ty Lee’s surface level qualities--her love of the color pink, her revealing standard outfit, and the fact that once she found a boy attractive and also once a lot of boys found her attractive--and they stretch this into “Ty Lee is basically Karen Smith from Mean Girls.” thus, Ty Lee is painted as a bimbo, or more specifically, as not smart, uncritically adoring of Azula (did y’all forget all the non-zukka bits of Boiling Rock?), and attractive to the point of hypersexualization. I saw somebody make a post that was like “I wish mailee was more popular but I’m also glad it isn’t because otherwise people would write it as Mai having to put up with her dumb gf” and honestly I have to agree!! this is one instance in which I’m glad that fandom doesn’t discuss one of my favorite characters that often because I hate the fanon interpretation of Ty Lee, I think it’s rooted in misogyny (particularly misogyny against East Asian women, which often takes the form of fetishizing them and viewing them only through a Western white male gaze)

(side note: here at army-of-mai-lovers, we stan bimbos. bimbos are fucking awesome. I personally don’t read Ty Lee as a bimbo, but if that’s you, that’s fucking awesome. keep doing what you’re doing, queen <3 or king or monarch, it’s 2021, anyone can be a bimbo, bitches <3)

“Toph can and will destroy everyone here with her bare hands because she’s a meathead who likes to murder people and that’s it!”

Toph is, and always has been, one of my favorite ATLA characters. My very first fic in fandom was about her, and she appears prominently in a lot of my other work as well. One thing that I am always struck by with Toph is how big a heart she has. She’s independent, yes, snarky, yes, but she cares about people--even the family that forced her to make herself smaller because they didn’t believe that their blind daughter could be powerful and strong. Her storyline is powerful and emotionally resonant, her bending is cool precisely because it’s based in a “wait and listen” approach instead of just smashing things indiscriminately, she’s great disabled rep, and overall one of the best characters in the show.

And in fandom, she gets flattened into “snarky murder child.”

So where does this come from? Well, as we all know, Toph was originally conceived of as a male character, and retained a lot of androgyny (or as the kids call it, Gender) when she was rewritten as a female character. There are a lot of cultural ideas about androgynous/butch women being violent, and people in fandom seem to connect that larger cultural narrative with some of Toph’s more violent moments in the show to create the meathead murder child trope, erasing her canon emotionality, softness, heart, and femininity in the process.

This is not to say that you shouldn’t write or characterize Toph as being violent or snarky at all ever, because yeah, Toph definitely did do Earth Rumbles a lot before joining the gaang, and yeah, Toph is definitely a sarcastic person who makes fun of her friends a lot. What I am saying is that people take these traits, sans the emotional logic, marry them to their conception of androgynous/butch women as violent/unemotional/uncaring, and thus create a caricature of Toph that is not at all up to snuff. When I see Toph as a side character in a fic (because yeah, Toph never gets to be a main character, because why would a fandom obsessed with one male character in particular ever make Toph a protagonist in her own right?) she’s making fun of people, killing people, pranking people, etc, etc. She’s never talking to people about her emotions, or palling around with her found family, or showing that she cares about her friends. Everything about her relationship with her parents, her disability, her relationship to Gender, and her love of her friends is shoved aside to focus on a version of Toph that is mean and uncaring because people have gotten it into their heads that androgynous/butch women are mean and uncaring.

again, we see a female character who does not emote normatively or in a way that makes you, the viewer, comfortable, and so you warp her character until she’s completely unrecognizable and flat. and for what?

Azula

no, I didn’t come up with a snappy name for this section, mainly because fanon interpretations of Azula and my own feelings toward the character are...complicated. I know there were some people who wanted me to write about Azula and the intersection of misogyny and ableism in fanon interpretations of her character, but I don’t think I can deliver on that because I personally am in a period of transition with how I see Azula. that is to say, while I still like her and believe that she can be redeemed, there is a lot of merit to disliking her. the whole point of this post is that the female characters of ATLA are complex people whom the fandom flattens into stereotypes that don’t hold up to scrutiny, or dislike for reasons that don’t make sense. Azula, however, is a different case. the rise of Azula defenders and Azula stans has led to this sentiment that Azula is a 14 y/o abuse victim who shouldn’t be held accountable for her actions. it seems to me that people are reacting to a long, horrible legacy of male ATLA fans armchair diagnosing Azula with various personality disorders (and suggesting that people with those personality disorders are inherently monstrous and unlovable which ahhhh....yikes) and then saying that those personality disorders make her unlovable, which is quite obviously bad. and hey, I get loving a character that everyone else hates and maybe getting so swept up in that love that you forget that your fave is complicated and has made some unsavory choices. it sucks that fanon takes these well-written, complex villains/antiheroes and turns them into monsters with no critical thought whatsoever. but the attitude among Azula stans that her redemption shouldn’t be hard, that her being a child excuses all of the bad things that she’s done, that she is owed redemption....all of that rubs me the wrong way. I might make another post about this in the future that discusses this in more depth, but as it stands now: while I understand that there is a legacy of misogynistic, ableist, unnuanced takes on Azula, the backlash to that does not take into account the people she hurt or the fact that in ATLA she does not make the choice to pursue redemption. and yes, Zuko had help in making that choice that Azula didn’t, and yes, Azula is a victim of abuse, but in a show about children who have gone through untold horrors and still work to better the lives of the people around them, that is not enough for me to uncritically stan her.

Conclusion

misogyny in this fandom runs rampant. while there are some tropes of fandom misogyny that are well-documented and have been debunked numerous times, there are other, subtler forms of misogyny that as far as I know have gone completely unchecked.

what I find so interesting about misogyny in atla fandom is that it’s clear that it’s perpetrated by people who are aware of fandom misogyny who are actively trying not to be misogynistic. when I first joined atla fandom last summer, memes about how zukka fandom was better than every other fandom because they didn’t hate the female characters who got in the way of their gay ship were extremely prevalent, and there was this sense that *this* fandom was going to model respectful, fun, feminist online fandom. not all of the topes I’ve outlined are exclusive to or even largely utilized in zukka fandom, but a lot of them are. I’ve been in and out of fandom since I was eleven years old, and most of the fandom spaces I’ve been in have been majority-female, and all of them have been incredibly misogynistic. and I always want to know why. why, in these communities created in large part by women, in large part for women, does misogyny run wild? what I realize now is that there’s never going to be a one-size fits all answer to that question. what’s true for 1D fandom on Wattpad in 2012 is absolutely not true for atla fandom on tumblr in 2021. the answers that I’ve cobbled together for previous fandoms don’t work here.

so, why is atla fandom like this? why did the dream of a feminist fandom almost entirely focused on the romantic relationship between two male characters fall apart? honestly, I think the notion that zukka fandom ever was this way was horrifically ignorant to begin with. from my very first moment in the fandom, I was seeing racism, widespread sexualization of minors, and yes, misogyny. these aspects of the fandom weren’t talked about as much as the crocverse or other, much more fun aspects. further, atla (specifically zukka) fandom misogyny often doesn’t look like the fandom misogyny we’ve become familiar with from like, Sherlock fandom or what have you. for the most part, people don’t actively hate Suki, they just “stan” without actually caring about her. they hate Mai because they believe in treating male victims of abuse equally. they’re not characterizing Toph poorly, they’re writing her as a “strong woman.” in short, people are misogynistic, and then invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of feminist theory to shield themselves from accusations of misogyny. it’s not unlike the way some people will invoke a shallow, incomplete interpretation of critical race theory to shield themselves from accusations of racism, or how they’ll talk about “freedom of speech” and “the suppression of women’s sexuality” to justify sexualizing minors. the performance of feminism and antiracism is what’s important, not the actual practice.

if you’ve made it this far, first off, hi, thanks so much for reading, I know this was a lot. second, I would seriously encourage you to be aware of these fandom tropes and to call them out when you see them. elevate the voices of fans who do the work of bringing the female characters of atla to life. invest in the wlw ships in this fandom. drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic (please, drop a kudos and a comment on a rangshi fic). read some yuetara. let’s all be honest about where we are now, and try to do better in the future. I believe in us.

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

Text

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Ten

chapter nine - Chapter Ten: Heroes - chapter eleven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky make one final effort to stop the Flag Smashers.

Warnings: spoilers for episode.6, violence, character death (major), wounds, blood, ANGST ANGST ANGST, Bucky and Y/n are a badass couple, Sam and Y/n are a badass sibling duo, everybody’s a badass, inaccurate medical care (unless you consider google legit then it’s for real lol)

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: GUYS. SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER. HOW DID WE GET HERE?!?! This one was challenging to write because I wanted to still make it mainly focus on Sam and not detract from his story while incorporating another one, hopefully I did it justice. Smaller amount of Bucky Y/n fluff purely because of plot. Imma shut up now and let you guys judge it for yourselves, hopefully you enjoy ☺️

----

I’d always wanted to visit New York, I just never thought that the circumstances in which I’d come would be so dire.

Surprisingly, flying from Delacroix to the city hadn’t been as draining as I’d thought, the adrenaline rushing through me was enough to keep my stamina up. Once I got into the state I shot up higher, the only way to pinpoint the city’s location was by sight alone. The mass of flashing red, white and blue lights served as a literal guiding light and I followed it till my feet made contact with the ground. I landed in between two buildings, a safe distance away from the commotion but close enough that I could intervene if needed. Sam had told me to go ahead of him and meet up with Bucky, the two of us would be on the ground while Sam took care of business with the senators. “Something’s different…” the voice I’d gone days without hearing announced from behind me, “New haircut?” I smirked and turned to face Bucky, “Do you get bulletproof suits for all the girls that catch your eye?” “Only the ones I really like,” he smiled, cradling my cheek in his hand and giving me an overdue kiss before pulling back to admire the suit, “Looks good on you.” The suit that Bucky had the Wakandans design for me was made almost entirely of Vibranium. It was sapphire blue, the same color of my energy with accent lines of silver running through it to define the shape. It clung tight to my body without showing off too much, the v neckline ended just below my collarbone. Hidden behind Bucky’s note in the case had also been a note from Shuri, the princess of Wakanda, listing that the suit was bullet proof and should I choose to channel my energy through a specific part of my body, the Vibranium would absorb and redistribute it to amplify my strike. The whole ensemble made me feel an official member of whatever club I’d decided to join.

I opened my fingerless glove adorned palm out to Bucky, offering him one of the comms Sam had given me and placing the other in my ear. “Ready?” he asked.

For once, I could answer feeling fully confidant in my capabilities. I reached out and squeezed Bucky’s hand, giving a single nod, “Ready.”

The two of us made our way out from between the buildings and headed into the heart of the chaos. There were news crews, police officers, soldiers and SWAT teams while innocent bystanders quickly fled the scene.

“Sam, where you at?” I said into my comm.

“I’m almost there,” he replied.

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked from beside me.

“Karli’s gotta be close, keep your eyes open.” “Well, it could be anybody…” Bucky said quietly as we passed by a group of officers.

We headed for the building in which the senators were being held, the SWAT team immediately parting to allow Sergeant Barnes and myself to enter. Whether or not he was paying attention to anything other than finding Karli, I wasn’t sure, but I smiled internally at the fact that they’d recognized him for what he should have been recognized for all this time.

“Oh, we also called in some backup,” I relayed to Bucky.

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am,” we turned to see a man in a beanie following us, “Are you supposed to be here?” Bucky looked stunned and slightly concerned while I stayed calm, recognizing the signal. Immediately, Sharon ripped off the technologically advanced mask that concealed her identity. “It’s me.” “Sharon, what the hell are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

I gestured to the woman, “Backing us up…” “Relax, no one’s looking for me here,” she said, pulling on Bucky’s arm in an effort to get us away from the crowd. “Is that Sharon?” Sam asked over the comms.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky answered, earning a light, disapproving smack from me to his chest.

“Hey, Sam, I thought I’d get the band back together,” Sharon said into her earpiece.

“Thank you, you’re risking a lot coming here.” I took a step forward towards the blonde, “If you want me to fly you out of here, now’s the time.”

She gave a little shrug, “I hear pardons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway.”

“Depends on the therapist,” Bucky grumbled.

“They’re gonna move on the building soon. Be ready,” Sam’s voice flowed into my ear.

“Same goes for you,” I replied, trying to compartmentalize the constant anxiety that ran through me in regards to my brother’s safety. Though knowing he wore vibranium wings now did help ease my fears a little. I turned my attention back to Sharon and Bucky, “Let’s split up and do a perimeter check. Front’s clear so I’ll take the back, you two take the sides.” “Wow,” Sharon smirked, “Give you a suit and suddenly you’re Miss Take Charge.” I shot her smirk right back at her as she headed down her side of the building while Bucky and I went around the other way. “Somethin’ changed while I was gone,” he observed as we walked. “You made amends,” I replied, flashing back to my visit to the graveyard, “I made peace.” I expelled energy from my fingertips to float above him and fly to the back of the building, not a soul in sight.

“Y/n, Sharon, Bucky, what’s going on on your end?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, all quiet,” Bucky answered. “Same here,” I said, taking another look around me to be sure,

“No one’s moving toward the building,” Sharon added.

“Karli’s not coming in. She’s trying to force everybody out,” Sam said, “It’s a misdirect, we gotta keep everybody inside.”

I levitated once again and headed to the front of the building, finding Bucky and Sharon waiting for me. Once I landed, we entered through the glass doors. “You guys are gonna have to do something,” Sam panted through the comm, “Don’t let ‘em out of the building.”

We passed through the building’s metal detectors one by one with no issue, till the alarm sounded off on Sharon. “Oops,” she muttered unconvincingly. “Here’s one of them,” Bucky said, gesturing towards a man in a security uniform, a Flag Smasher, “We’ll get the evac.” Bucky and I winded around the halls but didn’t get far before a woman came walking towards us with a phone extended out in her palm, “Mr. Barnes, Miss. Y/l/n, it’s Karli.” How she knew my name baffled me, Bucky reached for the phone regardless and took note of the orange handprint projected on the screen. He placed the call on speaker, “Karli?”

“Aren’t you two tired of fighting for the wrong side?” the young girl asked.

Bucky scoffed as we stepped down a staircase, “I’ve done this before, kid. I know how it ends.”

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t survive this,” she replied, “I’m fighting for something bigger than myself. With all the bodies you’ve collected, have you been able to say the same?”

“You don’t think I ever fought for something bigger than myself?” Bucky asked, “That’s all I ever tried to do. And I failed twice.” I tugged Bucky’s arm so the phone was in front of me, “Karli, all I’ve ever wanted was to use my powers for good. I respect the fight you’re fighting but this isn’t the way to win it.” “Believe me, I know all about your father’s crimes,” she spoke back, “I looked you up after meeting you in Riga, and trust me, the side you’re on is no better than the one your dad was one.” My heart clenched at her words, I knew that she was a black and white person who only dealt in absolutes, but it didn’t mean hearing it didn’t hurt. “If you wanted to do any real good, you’d have joined us,” Karli continued, “You’d have needed to get your hands dirty, but you’d have made an actual difference.” “You think your cause justifies all this death,” Bucky stepped in and took the wheel, “But in the end, the nightmares won’t go away. You’re gonna remember all the ones you killed. Trust me. Don’t do this. Don’t go down this path.”

There was a hopeful pause over the line, followed by a disappointing response. “If that’s how the both of you feel, you should sit this one out.” I glanced over at Bucky, sharing the same tired, yet determined look I was displaying. “That’s not gonna happen.” “Well, thank you,” Karlie replied, “I’m glad you took my call, you’ve been a big help.” She hung up then, the realization hitting me immediately as to why she’d called us. “The evac,” I breathed, “It was a deterrence.”

“Damn it,” Bucky growled with a clenched jaw, “Come on!”

We raced through across the floor of the building, making for the winding staircase lit up with flashing emergency lights that would lead us to the parking lot. Since we were the only two fleeing the building that particular way, it was a safe bet to make that the hostages had already been evacuated. Once we were in the parking lot, Bucky took the lead and led me to a parked row of motorcycles, quickly hot-wiring one.

“Seriously, guys, you had one job,” Sharon popped out from behind a pillar to critique us.

“You worry about your guy,” Bucky grumbled as he swung his leg over to straddle the vehicle, I promptly did the same, “Good?” Locking my arms around his torso and scooching forward so my Vibranium chest was pressed against his back, I nodded. “Good.” Bucky floored the gas pedal and we rode off with an echoing screech, finding our way through the garage’s exit. A blockade of soldiers yelled at us as we quickly approached them, shooting through the gap between barriers and whipping around the street corner. On any other occasion I’d have enjoyed clinging tight to Bucky’s body as we rode through the cool New York evening air. Sadly, there was no time to savor the moment.

“That’s one down,” Sharon’s voice came through my comm. “How’d you manage that?” Sam joined in. “Mercury vapor, amongst other things.” Bucky made a sharp turn down one of the streets causing me to clutch his middle tighter, “Any idea where they’ll be headed?” “I thought you were the one in charge,” Bucky retorted over the engine’s noise. “You better speed things up, Sam,” Sharon said, “The chopper’s about to take off.” “Bucky, Y/n,” Sam called, grunts following directly after. Bucky halted at a light, determining the rest of our course. “I don’t fly, man, that’s your guys’ thing.” He revved the bike and turned down a different street.

I pressed a hand to my ear, “Meet you there.” Placing a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder, I levitated off the motorcycle and watched him continue on his path while I turned in the opposite direction and headed back through the city. From across the way, I could see the silhouette of Sam’s wings as he jumped off of the building after the helicopter. The chopper had taken a nose dive and was headed for the street, pulling up just before it hit the overpass. I quickened the speed in which I was flying over the bay, catching up to Sam soon enough. He flew lower than me, his new wings dipping into the waters before he shot back up.

“Plan?” I called into the comms as I kept close to the rear of the chopper. “We gotta take out the pilot,” Sam answered, “Take the left side.” I flew to my designated spot and reached out a hand to grasp onto one of the bars of the plane. Reabsorbing my energy, I put full faith in my grip as I dangled off of the helicopter in mid flight. I poked my head out to the window on the pilot’s side only to be given a front row seat to his attempt to kill Sam, firing a machine gun till my brother was forced to pull back and off the chopper. The pilot whipped his head around to lay eyes on me, aiming his gun. Lightning fast, I let go of the bar and narrowly escaped the shots fired, throwing my hands out and expelling energy to resume my flight. Sam wasn’t far behind, we took off in tandem with one another with him sending Redwing ahead to see if any of the hostages had flight training. As the chopper plunged towards the water, we moved in synch with it, just a few hundred feet behind in a dance of sorts. In the distance, I could barely make out the shape of an almost identical vehicle headed towards the one we were tailing, this one bearing the logo of the NYPD. Our chopper rammed itself into the front of the police copter, sending it spinning in a spiral of smoke and fire. If we didn’t get there in time, it would crash into one of the skyscrapers or worse. Sam and I changed course and made a beeline for it. “Get the co-pilot,” Sam yelled as he swerved to my left.

I flew up to the side window and shot an energy blast towards it, smashing the glass and startling the co-pilot. I then levitated him out of the chopper and flew the two of us down to the bridge below us, Sam was right behind me with the pilot. The plane was losing altitude fast and was headed straight for our rescue party. Before I could even think to build a force field, Sam shoved me and the pilots down and shielded us with his wings. I felt the Vibranium shake as the plane bounced off of us and over the edge of the bridge. Sam retracted his wings and the two of us rose to our full heights, him in all his red, white and blue glory.

“Go, I got this,” he instructed, taking off into the skies before I could put up a fight.

I levitated high above the bridge to get a birds eye view of the city, “Bucky, where are you?”

“42nd Street, heading west,” he answered

“I’m a tourist, those words mean nothing to me.”

“I’m passing a building with white and red lights,” he modified his answer. My eyes searched for the building he was talking about, spotting it quickly and taking off toward it. I looked below me to see two humvees and multiple bodies running around them. “Found them, they’re trying to build a-“ “I see ‘em, coming in hot,” Bucky interrupted, I could see his motorcycle speeding down the street and toward the barricade the Flag Smashers had arranged. Taking a leap, or rather a fall of faith, I absorbed my energy and free fell, throwing my hands out and releasing it just before my feet hit the ground. Bucky wasn’t far behind, leaping off his motorcycle and diving forward to tackle one of the Flag Smashers. The man jumped to his feet and Bucky engaged him in combat, the two exchanging punches with Bucky having more favor. In a split second of separation between the two I shot a blast of energy at the man that sent him flying backwards into the side of a truck, creating a super soldier shaped dent in the car. A sudden explosion sounded off nearby, I turned to see that one of the humvees had been set ablaze. Bucky and I ran to the vehicle, I sent an energy blast towards the high tech lock that had been placed on the back doors. It did absolutely nothing.

“Hold on,” Bucky shouted to the screaming hostages as he used his Vibranium arm to pull on the door handle. Even he couldn’t get it open. “Help me!”

I focused all my energy on the lock, sending unsuccessful blast after unsuccessful blast. Letting out a frustrated cry, I backed away giving Bucky another chance to try. He began throwing a stream of relentless punches, his determination growing with each hit. Eventually he’d done enough damage that he switched to pulling at the door’s bar. The pain on his face as he pulled was heartbreaking, the tendons and muscles where his prosthetic met his flesh stretching to too great a length. Making one last ditch effort, I extended my energy towards the handle to help him in his efforts. Together, we strained and struggled until the lock finally broke and the doors opened. While Bucky kept his footing, I fell backwards doing a very ungraceful somersault and landed on my side. What I saw happening in front of me was almost too shocking to believe, and yet not at all.

John Walker was getting his ass kicked by the Flag Smashers.

With a replica of the iconic shield that was definitely not made of Vibranium and his suit, he was lying on the ground being pummeled by the super soldiers. With the vigor in which they were attacking him, I knew that the metal wouldn’t protect him forever. The man that I hated, who had tried to kill me, Sam and Bucky, who had shed innocent blood on Steve’s legacy…I could have let them kill him and I should have wanted to.

But even in my hatred, I couldn’t let a man die.

I rose to my feet and sent a stream of energy towards two of them, knocking them a few feet away from Walker. The third who I deduced to be Karli, came charging at me. I threw up a force field to act as a shield and met each one of her punches with the energy. She let out grunts of frustration, going for a roundhouse kick but giving me just enough time to drop the field and levitate her into the air. I held her there a second, watching her flail about trying to escape before tossing her several hundred feet away from us towards the end of the street. The two Flag Smashers that I’d knocked over came charging back toward me, it was time to test out just what the suit could do…

I focused my energy out through my elbow and hit one of them square in the jaw, the energy sending him rolling down the road far greater a distance that I’d have been able to cause without the Vibranium amplifying it. I turned around to the other one, dodging a quick punch before sending my energy down to my foot, landing a kick my attacker’s stomach that caused him to go airborne and land on top of one of the trucks. Unfortunately, the first guy didn’t stay down as long as I needed him to and came up from behind me and landed a kick to my back. I fell to the road with a groan, felt the burn of the asphalt as it shredded my cheek. I heard the man rip something metal followed by the sound of his thick boots coming my way, undoubtably he’d grabbed something to use as a weapon. As I rose to take another stand, I saw Bucky come running past me and turned to watch him knock the Flag Smasher over, the man dropping the toll meter he’d been holding as a bat over me. Bucky strode forward and they began fighting one another with punches and kicks while I looked around to see Karli welding the unattended meter. She swung it towards Bucky, his avoidance of the hit and my creation of a force field around him totally in synch. Karli took another swing at him and met resistance, unable to move the weapon as I froze it in place with my energy.

“You don’t have to do this,” I urged her.

With a yell she let go of the weapon and dove for me, being hit in the face with a chain that Bucky had picked up. Before I could stop it, the Flag Smasher who had originally intended to hit me with the toll meter landed a kick that sent Bucky flying backwards. His metal hand scraping the asphalt as he desperately tried to hold on before going over the edge of the nearby construction site. “BUCKY!” I cried as he screamed into the night air just before Karli kicked me down herself, and landed a punch to my abdomen. The Vibranium, while giving me protection, still allowed some of the blow to reach me and I was in just enough pain that I couldn’t go after the Flag Smasher that leapt down into the construction hole Bucky had landed in. I sent a blast of energy at Karli, throwing her back and allowing me the time to stand up and regain my footing. At the same time I rose, so did Walker, the two of us sharing eye contact that was oceans away from the last time we’d met on the battlefield. Separating once again, he turned to lift one of the Flag Smashers up by her throat while I landed a punch on one that was coming for me. The second van of hostages was brimming with horrified screams, both my and Walker’s attention being redirected to them. Karli, who stood a few feet away from us, made a run for the humvee and Walker and I chased after her. Walker braced himself with the shield and the two of them came face to face with one another. Giving another insignificant try, I sent a stream of energy towards the lock in an attempt to break it but couldn’t without Bucky’s brute strength. Behind me, I could hear the grunts and groans of Walker and Karli moving around as they fought one another. When the noises got too distant to still be close by, I knew I needed to go back Walker up.

I looked through the everything-proof glass window to the terrified faces of the senators. “We’ll get you out, I promise,” I yelled, taking off towards the fight.

Karli came running out from where they’d disappeared behind, I sent another blast her way that she dodged. She leapt into the air with a cry and raised a fist, I threw up a force field that she bounced off of and rolled to the ground. “This isn’t change, Karli,” I spoke up over the noise of the fire, “It’s murder.” The only response I got was another yell, Karli came charging towards me forcing me to throw up another shield to deflect her punches and kicks. I didn’t want to hurt her, I didn’t even want to fight her. It was different than with Walker where there was a mutual disliking of one another since almost the very beginning, she was just a kid looking to fight anyone who got in her way. Her cause was even something I agreed with, but I couldn’t stand by her taking innocent lives in the process.

Karli caught my exposed neck, gripping my neck tightly and holding me in the air. The bruises from Walker’s assault hadn’t fully healed and Karli was squeezing far tighter than he had. Thinking quickly, I swung my legs around to the back of her knees and forced my energy out of my feet as I slammed into her legs. The two of us fell in a heap, Karli on top of me with her grip loose enough on my throat that I could get out of it and flip her over. I pinned her hands to the asphalt on either side of her head using my energy, “You can stop all of this right now,” I urged over her furious cries, “Karli, please.”

Karli snarled at me before moving her knees to hit me in my back, throwing me off balance and giving her the perfect opportunity to launch me down the same hole Bucky had fallen down. I caught myself mid air and looked down to see Bucky and one of the Flag Smashers fighting with a metal beam, Bucky gaining the upper hand. I dropped to the ground and ran to him as he landed a final strike against the man, knocking him to the ground. As my hand reached out for his arm, there was a violent crash above us. We looked up to see that the humvee filled with the hostages had been driven off the road and was balancing on top of the construction. It teetered on the edge, ready to slip at any moment and finish Karli’s plan. I extended my energy to steady the vehicle, I wasn’t sure what made me think I could keep a couple thousand pound vehicle suspended in midair but the fact that I’d never used my powers like this didn’t matter. I had to try. As it rocked back and forth against my energy, I took a stance and dug my heels in the ground, sending up the steady streams I’d recently discovered I could produce. They curved around the front of the vehicle, protecting it from falling any further. The screams of terror from the hostages were my motivation to keep going, to do everything in my power that I could do save who I could.

After a few seconds of bearing my teeth and groaning in struggle, the load lessened slightly. I opened one of my eyes that had been squeezed shut in concentration to see Walker’s homemade shield near my feet, the decommissioned captain above me pulling the truck from the back. For once, we were working as a cohesive unit. Who would have thought…

All was short lived though as the second we were making progress on getting the humvee away from the edge, Karli and two other Flag Smashers jumped Walker and attacked him. Unable to hold them off, they toppled over and fell into the pit alongside Bucky and I. I cried out as the full weight of the humvee became mine to bear once again, fighting harder than ever to keep it from falling. Every muscle in my body clenched as I kept the streams flowing while also slowly rising off the ground, wondering if it was possible for my body to run out of energy with how much I was throwing into my stand. I had to save them, so long as I was able to fight, I wouldn’t allow any more innocent bloodshed. My hands shook, causing my streams to shake and I groaned as my body sent every signal that it couldn’t continue on.

As I started to falter, I felt something come up beside me and some of the heaviness was taken away. Looking to my left, Sam was in the air bracing the weight of the truck alongside me. I felt renewed with his help to rise with him as we used our combined strength to steadily raise the humvee back onto the beams of the construction site. Once it was secured, Sam and I both landed on either side of the truck and faced the crowd. I made the easy decision to fly back down into the pit, the moment belonged to Sam and no one else. Bucky was at my side at once, his hands on my arms and a careful set of eyes watching to make sure I was okay. I rested my forehead on his shoulder for a too brief second and nodded through my heavy breathing.

From in front of us, Karli launched a spear towards Bucky’s head that he easily got throwing it to the side as he stared her down. Sam’s shield came flying out of nowhere, hitting Karli and rebounding off of the other Flag Smasher before landing back on Sam’s wrist. Karli shed her mask, looking at him with disgust and shock. “You of all people bought into that bullshit?” she asked, examining his patriotic suit from a distance.

“I’m trying something different,” Sam answered, his voice steely, “Maybe you should do the same.”

A sudden explosion was set off, a grenade landing at our feet setting off smoke that blinded us. I quickly covered Sam, Walker, Bucky and myself in a large force field, as my eyes tried to make out Karli’s figure. “This way,” Sam directed, using the tech in his goggles to spot them. I dropped the shield and followed him, the only person I could make out semi-clearly in the haze. We ran down and through a nearby tunnel, weaving down underground hallways in search of the remainders of the group. “Hey Sharon,” Bucky said into his comm, “We’re underground. We entered the tunnel on William. Heading south.”

“Looks like they split up,” Sam announced, he pointed down a corridor, “Here.” Walker took off without a second thought, while Bucky paused in front of Sam and I. “I got it,” he pointed to my brother, brushing his fingers against mine before heading down the hall. Sam and I both watched them leave, my anxiety rising with each step Bucky took away from me. Shaking myself out of the spiral I knew I’d go down if I gave it any more thought, I followed Sam’s lead as we continued on our way. The sound of the Flag Smasher’s signature whistle echoed off the walls causing Sam and I to freeze, he determined where it may have come from and motioned for me to come forward.

“If something happens, you get the hell out of here, got it?” Sam whispered. “Nice try,” I replied, having flashbacks to the various times in the past week or so that we’d had conversations like this, “I’m not leaving you.” Suddenly, two shots were fired nearby. Sam and I bolted in the general direction that the sound had come from, fear flooding my body at the thought of Bucky being on the receiving end of one of the bullets. The worry caused me to run faster. We made it into a wider room, Karli standing in the middle with a gun aimed at a helpless Sharon, laying on the ground with a hand over her abdomen. I spotted the blood staining her shirt and threw a force field around her as Sam clipped his shield to his back. “Sam, stay back,” Karli warned, her eyes flicking to him briefly before landing back on Sharon.

“So, what’s next, huh?” Sam asked, taking careful steps toward her, “You kill ten this time, then, what, a hundred? Where does it end? Please,” he lowered his tone, “Let me help you.” “Don’t try and manipulate me,” Karli replied, looking between the blue barrier I shielded Sharon with and me. She twisted her body to aimed her gun at me, my resolve to protect Sharon stronger than protecting myself.

“Karli, don’t!” Sharon cried.

Sam dove forward and tackled the girl to the floor, somersaulting away from her as Karli raised a piece of cinderblock. She launched it at Sam who deflected the makeshift weapon with his shield. Karli swung at him and Sam jumped on top of a small staircase, his shield in front of him at all times. “I’m not gonna fight you!” he yelled, leaping off the stairs.

Karli continued her attack, Sam dug the tips of his wings into the concrete and met her fist with the shield. “Karli…” he urged just before she ripped the shield away and walked him backwards, Sam completing a series of jumps and flips. Karli grabbed a metal pipe and swung it at Sam, knocking him to the ground. “Stay down!” she growled.

Every instinct I had told me to go after the person who was endangering Sam’s life, anybody’s would be. But I knew that it was pointless to fight her, it was only giving her what she wanted. The serum enhanced people’s personalities, Karli had always been a fighter but now, she was looking to fight anything and anyone and would do it ruthlessly. I couldn’t buy into it.

I retracted the shield I’d built around Sharon and flew around Karli, placing myself between her and Sam. “Karli, the fight is over,” I breathed.

“No!” she shrieked, barely giving me enough time to throw up an energy shield before she threw a punch. Her fist bouncing off of it only angered her more and she began a relentless attack, banging her hands against the force field, taking swipes anywhere she could. I levitated over her head and landed a few feet away, luring her away from Sam. Karli was furious at the fact that she couldn’t touch me or get me to try and battle her. It didn’t take long for Sam to spring to his feet, throwing his shield out in between Karli and I. Karli focused her efforts on Sam then, punching the shield relentlessly as Sam walked her away from me. “Fight back!” she screamed in my brother’s face.

I extended my energy and pulled her away from Sam, throwing her a few feet away from us. Karli let out a battle cry and leapt forward, Sam and I coming side by side and holding up our respective shields. Karli’s fist rebounded off of my energy and spun around to hit Sam’s shield, he then grabbed her by the waist and turned on his thrusters, flying them across to room to slam Karli into a beam. “Stop it,” he ordered, gripping her by the lapels of her jacket. Karli replied by throwing him above her head into the ceiling, I used my energy to yank her away from Sam and in front of me.

“Listen to me, Karli,” I urged, earning a super-soldier shiner to my cheek, “We’re not your enemies.” Karli dropped me to the ground like I weighed nothing, the vibranium suit creating a dent in the flooring. I let out a groan at the shock and she ran off to deal with Sam. “Fight me!” she screamed as she clawed at the shield, “Fight back!” She flipped him over.

He fell.

The shield fell out of his reach.

Karli picked up the gun and aimed it at Sam.

He rose, accepting his fate.

Gathering the strength I had left, I got to my feet.

With trembling hands, knowing what I was about to do, I levitated and landed in front of Sam.

Karli’s face shifted, though I couldn’t read it as my emotions overwhelmed me.

A supercut ran through my mind.

Sam.

Sarah.

AJ and Cass.

Mel.

My mom.

My father.

A legacy rewritten.

Bucky.

Would he forgive me for what I was about to do? I hoped so.

“Go ahead,” I whispered, staring Karli down and blinking away the tears before she could see them, “Do it.” Karli’s face scrunched up as her finger prepared to pull the trigger when suddenly, three gunshots went off from nearby, hitting her. The gun fell to the ground and so did she. My eyes flew to where the bullets had come from, the sight of Sharon holding the smoking gun awaiting me. Sam dropped to his knees to cradle Karli’s head, the young girl staring up at him wide eyed and afraid. I knelt down on the other side of her, slipping her still warm hand into mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, staring up at Sam before looking to me. The only thought that ran through my mind was she’s just a girl, she’s just a girl…As I watched the tears well in her eyes before the life drained from them and they shut, the sudden innocence overwhelmed me. She was just a girl…

I didn’t let go of her hand even when it went limp, holding it to my heart as I wept over her. Sam cradled her cheek as we sat quietly, the only sounds were my soft sobs and Sharon’s labored breathing. I couldn’t face her right now, my feelings were too mixed about the way she had saved my life.

Eventually, once an undetermined amount of minutes had passed, Sam lifted Karli into his arms and the two of us rose to leave. When I turned to tell Sharon to come with us, she was already gone, probably having slipped out a back hallway. Sam carried Karli’s body the entire way out of the building, I hardly registered when we made it outside in the night air.

“I’ll clear the way for you,” I mumbled, extending my energy and shooting into the air, Sam not far behind me. The wind blowing against my dried my tears off of my cheeks as I flew toward the glow of ambulance lights outside the building we’d started the night at. There were crowds of news crews, there were the senators we’d saved and officers cleaning up the wreckage that had been left behind. They all noticed as I flew up, landing in the midst of it all and scanning the crowd for Bucky. Once I spotted him and Walker towards the very back near the ambulances, I ignored the reporters asking me questions as I weaved through the chaos. Bucky strode forward as I neared and wrapped me in his arms, I let go of the breath I’d been holding in my chest as soon as our bodies met. He was okay. My hands held the back of his neck as I dug my face into his shoulder. He tapped my waist and I turned to see Sam flying in, resembling the an angel with his outstretched wings as he landed. He carefully passed off Karli’s body to the paramedics who placed the girl on a stretcher, carrying her off to who knows where.

Sam walked towards the crowd, doing the same as me and ignoring the reporters flooding him with unimportant questions. He had flown in carrying the dead body of a kid and here they were, asking him if they should refer to him as Captain Falcon. He stopped in front of the senators who were busy thanking him for dealing with what I heard one refer to as ‘terrorists.’

“Are you still going forward with resetting the borders?” Sam asked.

They answered, and while I couldn’t hear their words, I could read Sam’s face well enough to know it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You have to stop calling them terrorists…” “What else would we call them?” one of the senators asked. “Your peacekeeping troops carrying weapons are forcing millions of people into settlements around the word, right?” Sam continued, “What do you think those people are going to call you? These labels, terrorists, refugees, thug. They’re often used to get around the question ‘why.’

“Those settlements that happened five years ago, do you think it is fair for governments to have to support them?” another senator asked. “Yes,” Sam said plainly.

“And the people who reappeared only to find someone else living in their family home, they just end up homeless?” the bearded senator pushed back, “Look, I get it. But you have no idea how complicated this situation is.”

Just as he prepared to walk away, Sam spoke up. “You know what, you’re right, and that’s a good thing. We finally have a common struggle now. Think about that. For once, all the people who’ve been begging and, I mean, literally begging for you to feel how hard any given day is, now you know. How did it feel to be helpless? Now if you can remember what it was like to be helpless and face a force so powerful, it could erase half the planet. You would know that you were about to have the exact same impact. This isn’t about easy decisions. Senator.”

“You just don’t understand,” the senator replied, probably the most ignorant response I’d ever heard.

Sam scoffed, “I’m a black man, carrying the stars and strips. What don’t I understand? Every time I pick this thing up, I know there are millions of people out there who are going to hate me for it. Even now, here. I feel it. The stares, the judgment, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Yet I’m still here. No super serum. No blonde hair or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better.”

Holding onto Bucky a little tighter, the tears that I shed had morphed to those of joy. There my brother stood, in front of the government and the entire country saying what we all needed to hear. He spoke without reserve, unapologetic in his stance, and I had never been prouder of him.

“We can’t demand that people step up if we don’t meet them halfway,” Sam’s voice rose with passion, “Look, you control the banks. Shit, You can move borders. You can knock down a forest with an email. You can feed a million people with a phone call. But the question is, who’s in the room with you when you’re making those decisions? Hmm? Is it the people you’re gonna impact? Or is it just more people like you?” he paused, collecting himself before gesturing to where Karli’s body lay in the ambulance, “I mean, this girl died trying to stop you. And no one has stopped for one second to ask why. You’ve got to do better, Senator, you’ve got to step up because if you don’t, the next Karli will. And you don’t want to see 2.0. People believed in her cause so much that they helped her defy the strongest governments in the world. Why do you think that is? Look, you people have just as much power as an insane god,” Sam’s voice broke for only a second, “Or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is how are you going to use it?”

With that, he walked away from the crowd that had been watching him so intently and made his way towards us. He stopped in front of Walker, the two of them sharing a look before nodding to one another, a non-verbal truce being declared. Walker also turned to me, in the end he had stepped up and done the right thing, but I knew that the two of us would never be on good terms. I’d never forget his tightening grip around my throat, nor would he forget that I wasn’t afraid of him and would tear him apart if he ever tried anything like he had in the warehouse again. But I had saved the guy’s life and because of that, his stare softened for only a second as he nodded his thanks to me. I watched as he disappeared into the crowd, off to whatever his next mission may be…

“Sorry, I was, uh, I was texting and so, all I heard was, um, “a black guy in stars and stripes,” Bucky broke the tension of the moment as Sam approached us.

The three of us shared a chuckle before Sam and I locked eyes, not having spoken a word yet about what had happened underground. I threw my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my shoulders, sharing probably the best hug we’d ever had. Our shared goal of keeping one another alive had been achieved. “Love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Love you too,” he replied, a hint of emotion choking him up. He squeezed a little tighter before releasing me, the three of us walking off together.

“Nice job, Cap,” Bucky said, patting Sam’s back that displayed the shield before sliding his hand back around my waist. A few feet away, hidden behind one of the ambulances and leaned up against the car was a familiar blonde figure.

“Sharon?” Sam called.

“Blocking my light,” she retorted, holding a gauze pad to the gunshot wound on her abdomen. “We need to get you to a hospital,” I strode forward, examining her injury as best I could.

“She’s not gonna listen,” Bucky grumbled as he looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following us. Sharon panted as she shrugged, “Hey, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“Told you…” Bucky said at my side. “Yeah, I don’t care,” I shook my head, “We’re take care of this.” “Uh, Cap?” an interruption came, the senator that had been on the receiving end of most of Sam’s impassioned speech. “I think he’s talking to you,” Sharon said before turning to both Sam and I, “Look, I’m sorry for how things ended down there. For what it’s worth,” she looked Sam up and down and genuinely smiled, “Suit looks good on you.”

Sam chuckled, “Thanks.”

Bucky nodded along, humoring the conversation for as long as he could. “All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” he asked, placing a hand on Sharon’s back to urge her forward. Giving up, she allowed him to lead her away.

“I didn’t forget my promise,” Sam called to Sharon, referring to the pardon I hoped he could secure for her.

I turned to my brother, “Meet you back home?”

He gave a long sigh, his eyes flitting between Bucky’s departing figure and me, “Why don’t you stay here a couple days?” I knew what he was offering and how hard it was for him to say the words, he was trying to give me time with Bucky. I did my best to conceal my smile, “Are you sure?” “You risked your life all week, you almost died trying to protect us,” he stated with a scoff, “I think you deserve a little time off. Now go,” he looked back to Bucky and scrunched his face up a little, “Before I change my mind.” Unable to hide my grin any longer, I reached out and clasped hands with him, bringing each other in for another hug. “Go get ‘em, Cap.”

The two of us let each other go, off to tend to our business before eventually reuniting back in the house we’d grown up in. It was crazy to think that I owed almost every great thing in my life to the boy who’d sat next to the lonely girl in first grade. Now here we were, dressed in Vibranium off saving the world, or at least doing what we could to make it a better one.

——

“Superhero, nurse…you’re full of surprises, Y/l/n,” Sharon commented before sucking in a sharp breath as I placed another suture.

I laughed softly, concentrating on my work, “I took a first aid class a couple years ago. When you’re living with two boys, trust me, it comes in handy a little too often. But I’ve never had to remove a bullet.” We were seated on the floor of Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment with me tending to Sharon’s wound using his first aid kit. Bucky was waiting in his bedroom to give us privacy, Sharon had her shirt pulled up and her pants unbuttoned to give me full access to her stomach. I’d had to place sutures once when Sarah had accidentally sliced her finger open with a knife, pulling out a lodged bullet was entirely new to me.

“I saw you tonight, with the truck,” she said as she watched me work, “You did good.”

I supposed now that I had shown my powers to the world, I’d have to get used to people paying me compliments but for now, I still didn’t know how to take them. “So are you gonna stick with it? The hero thing?” Sharon asked.

I tied another suture, closing the sterilized hole in her abdomen. “I think so. Captain America needs a right hand man, why not have it be his sister?” Sharon hummed in agreement, a beat of silence passing. “You don’t think you’ll strike out on your own? You seem a little too independent to follow orders.” “Yeah, well,” I started working on the last stitch, “Sam and I work better together than I would with anyone else. Maybe one day I’ll do my own thing but for now, I’m fine where I’m at.” “Well, I guess you’re finally in a position to do all that good you said you wanted to,” she sighed, “Just don’t forget to keep your eyes open, opportunity’s everywhere.” “Alright, Miss Madripoor,” I chuckled, sterilizing the wound one more time with an alcohol wipe, “Your hustler side is showing.”

Sharon shrugged and gave a little smirk, “All I’m saying is there’s a lot of ways to effect change, but I’m sure you’ll find that out.” Storing her advice away in my head for a later time, I placed a gauze pad on her abdomen and secured it. “Alright, you should be good. Just promise me that you’ll actually get checked by an actual doctor or whatever you have in High Town?” “Sure thing, Doc,” she replied with a smile as she adjusted her clothes again and rose to her feet, “You’re good, Barnes!” Bucky stepped back out into the room, peering around the corner carefully before entering fully. Despite the fact that he was in his own apartment, he still hadn’t changed out of what he’d worn to the fight. “What happens now?” I asked, looking to Sharon, “Hotel? Hidden apartment in some dodgy part of the city?” Sharon chortled at my suggestions, “I’ve got a plane waiting to take me back to Madripoor. The longer I stay here, the more of a chance they’ll find me,” she gave a small smile, “It was good seeing you guys again.” “It won’t be the last,” I confirmed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Sam’ll get that pardon, you’ll be back before you know it.” “That’d be nice,” she sighed longingly, clearly thinking about all the freedom that would come with coming back home. Coming back to the conversation, she patted my arm and regained her full voice, “But until then, keep them in check. God knows they need it.” “The hell does that mean?” Bucky grumbled from his position outside his bedroom, leaving Sharon and I to share a laugh before she walked to the front door. “I’ll do my best, and hey, thank you for what you did for me...” I called out just before she shot us one last knowing smile and left, the door shutting behind her. While I wanted to worry about her walking the streets of New York and possibly getting caught, I’d seen enough of her in action to know that she could handle whatever came her way.

Bucky slowly made his way to the door, locking it and turning around to face me. It was the first time of the night we’d been completely alone. Our eyes met, tired and traumatized but still alert and seeking one another out. Bucky crossed the room in a few long strides, taking his time in approaching me as if he was savoring the moment. I reached out once he was close enough and interlocked my hand with his, tugging him close to me. He dragged two featherlight fingers over the nasty bruise that Karli had given me, his brow furrowing as he examined the side of my face. I ran my thumb over the long red bruise across the side of his forehead, the pressure increasing when he leaned into my touch.

The night could have ended so differently. If Karli had pulled the trigger, if Bucky hadn’t fought on such high alert, we could have ended in tragedy. Such thoughts were better buried away and not thought of, but I couldn’t help it. Lucky, blessed, whatever word you wanted to use…we were it. With no battles on the horizon to fight, we could focus on figuring out just what spark there was between us.

No words needed to be spoken, not for now at least. Tonight, all I needed was to hold Bucky in my arms and remember that despite every odd and every trouble thrown our way, we were alive. And as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a tender but still passionate kiss, I had never felt more alive.

----

A/N: Oh, but we’re not done yet...We still have some time off and a cookout to attend 😉 I really can’t thank you all enough for sticking with this series the past few weeks, it means the world to me that I’ve been able to bring a little joy to people’s days. Let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be tagged for the LAST CHAPTER.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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essaysbyciara · 3 years

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It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane.

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up.

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light.

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.”

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word. She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer.

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!”

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like.

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit, social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.”

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could.

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…”

“Man, he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you.

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed.

“Aight, fave. I will. Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.”

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake.

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel.

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it.

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name.

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same.

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder.

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible.

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena.

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again.

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena.

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy…

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass.

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell.

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it.

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi.

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him?

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh.

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really-- and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days, weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request.

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot.

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram.

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection.

End of Part I

#trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #nebraska williams

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chidoroki · 3 years

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TPN - “Dreams Come True”

What better way to cheer up the TPN fandom after the second season’s final episode than with the special exhibition chapter finally being fully translated. I caught glimpses of a few pages here and there over the past couple months but seeing all the children live happily together in the human world in their own little village that they made close to Emma and Alex warms my heart. Of course I would’ve loved if we got to see more of the GP Resistance (because the anime denied us of them) but following the GF kids around the world as they experience their dreams is fair enough. We started the series alongside them so might as well finish strong with them too. I really loved seeing everyone grow up but no matter how old they get or how much time passes, I’ll probably never get used to seeing Emma without her iconic “63194.” It’s a bittersweet feeling for me, but her smiles bring me so much joy and I’m beyond happy that she accepted everyone into her life as they accepted her without her memories.

I haven’t a clue on how much time passed since everyone found Emma in ch181 to now, but seeing her call out everyone’s names is a little detail that I love so much considering she had no idea who anyone was at first. Trying to remember 60+ names doesn’t seem like an easy task to me. No doubt I was just as shocked as our girl upon learning these mere children bought a goddamn plane! We learn in a couple pages that it’s because of Norman’s company that they can afford it, but still, he’s like 15 or 16 now? He’s still a child! And I’m impressed! Not only at him, but that Oliver and Violet became pilots as well! It’s especially cute when you remember that Lucas gave Oliver a little toy plane during their time at Goldy Pond.

Speaking of GP, is it just me or does Emma’s current outfit resemble her GP one just a little bit? Sure we have no idea what color scheme this one has but come on, the short jacket, the dark shirt and jeans.. just imagine it! Jemima, Yvette, Alicia and Mark remade Gillian’s original GP outfit sometime before the Grace Field Raid arc (ch137 extra page) so I don’t doubt they could’ve done the same for Emma. Of course that’s just me being completely hopeful and missing the Goldy Pond arc to death but yeah! I’m also so happy to see Chris up and moving again! Seeing him wake up briefly in ch181 was nice but this is so much better. I imagine he and Emma have a lot to catch up on in terms of stories, with him being unconscious since ch105 and Emma not remembering anything.

But here we go, the original 15 escapees plus Norman, Phil, Sherry, I believe I saw Carol somewhere and a couple other random kiddos ready to see the entire world. They get to accomplish so much.. and in a single day too I believe? At least that’s what Phil and Alicia say a bit later about everyone’s wishes, but aahh what a lucky bunch. Hell, I’ll say we’re lucky readers too to be able to see such a great story. Can’t thank Shirai and Demizu enough y’all. I wish we got to see more of Alex though. He’s such a kind soul but I’m sure he’ll be just fine staying behind with everyone else.

This entire page where we learn about Norman as a CEO is gold. I still can’t believe this child successfully built up an entire multipurpose company not only to help their search for Emma but also because he didn’t want to live off the Ratri clan. I wish I knew about this last week when writing out Norman’s birthday post because hell yeah this deserves some praise! AND he managed to graduate school as well during all that! Well, by skipping grades which totally makes sense. I mean, if he managed to pass all the Grace Field and Lambda tests effortlessly I’m sure normal human world school was a piece of cake for him. Holy shit dude, keep on impressing me why don’t ya. Not only him but Nigel and Sonya too! I’m not surprised that Vincent helped out but I’m glad those two got a tiny moment to shine as well! Ray is another obvious choice when it comes to helping Norman, as they’re best friends and he’s always been good with machines.. but boy, I can’t take you seriously when you’re just sitting there unamused and eating chips! Hahah I love him so much! And the fact he replies to Norman’s idea with just a simple “kay” is an eternal mood.

Okay boys aside, can we talk about our fabulous girls now? Because oh my god, they’re so darn beautiful! They’re more fashionable than I’ll ever be and it’s so cute how they drag Emma along to take advantage of the 3-for-1 deal. But our girl pulls off that sporty look so well! (r.i.p. goldy pond outfit ver2.0). I’m not at all surprised that Nat wanted to go see the opera. That's perfect for him and I’d like to think the anime did something similar with that one shot we see of him in the human world. We don’t see him in a theater like this but to me it looks like he’s on the streets of Broadway? At least that’s the vibe I get from it. I’m sure there was something music related on one of those signs.

I can’t get over how adorable all the children look and how happy they are fulfilling their wishes, even if some of them aren’t as extravagant as others. Like eating a fluffy pancake and a ton of ice cream? We can do that whenever we want. But for these kids, it means everything and they absolutely deserve to experience such simple joys like that after all the harsh nonsense they’ve been through. I also love how Ray continues to be such a great older brother by still looking out for them too. The fact he remains completely unfazed by the haunted house is perfect. This boy has been haunted by his own nightmares and demons his entire life, there’s no way a couple of lousy jump scares are gonna spook him. Though I do find it funny that Alicia and Rossi still manage to get scared while Yvette is having the time of her life. I can’t help but laugh at Thoma’s “Shirai face” as well.

I find it interesting that out of all the different kinds of exhibits they could’ve shown us while Rossi visits a museum, they give us dinosaurs.. like that seems so silly to me. Y’all have seen several demons in your young lives already and yet dinosaurs manage to amaze you too? God these kids are precious. And then our boy Phil finally gets to see and ride a train! Just look how happy he is! The poor kid can’t even sit still he’s so darn excited and I can’t help but smile with him! Thankfully the anime showed us this too.

We eventually get to Ray’s wish and guys.. oh my fucking god. Tell me that this is not the absolute best and prettiest smile we get to see from him!! It honestly leaves me speechless okay? Ray never imagined he would ever get to see the outside world, let alone live past the age of 12, and yet here he is, seeing such a beautiful sight such as this, right in front of him instead of from inside a book. You can’t believe how happy and proud of him I am right now. Did you see how ecstatic I was when the anime kept Isabella alive? Multiply that feeling by ten and there ya go. That’s my level of happiness upon seeing my favorite boy smile like THAT! AAHHH!! That panel is gonna live rent free in my head until the end of time. I can’t get over how damn perfect it is. His smile is so pure and how he looks like he’s in complete awe is beautiful. He’s about to burst into tears and I swear I might do the same because I’m making myself emotional over this fantastic boy. Someone hold me.

No seriously, hold me because we’re about to get into some angst as we move onto to Emma’s wish. We all know that ever since 2039 her one dream was to ride a giraffe once they got outside, so here we are, about ten years later and the animals in question are within reach. Our girl should be totally excited, right? Ha, not quite.

That wish was something the old Emma wanted, but since demon god had to be such a bastard, this Emma doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to even feel. She hasn’t experienced the same hardships as her family. She hasn’t gone through hell and back while holding onto that one wish that would make all the suffering worth it. The amount of joy everyone else felt upon living out their dreams, she wonders if she would be able to feel it too.

They brought her here to make her happy, but is this truly want she wants as well? This is old Emma’s wish after all. What about her and what she wants? Could this wish make her just as happy as her old self? She knows her family is only trying to help, but seeing her doubt herself does a number on my heart. Even without her memories, she’s still the same Emma deep down, as she doesn’t want to disappoint her family. She spends so much time worrying about living up to her family’s expectations, to try and be that Emma they all love so dearly.

Little does she know that she acts the exact same as usual, almost as if nothing has changed when she finally expresses how much she wants to ride a giraffe. And that’s great considering when they first arrived at the giraffes, no on had even mentioned riding them. She came across that feeling all on her own and everyone else can’t help but laugh and feel relieved. Her mind may have forgotten but her heart remembers everything. There is no “old Emma” and “new Emma” to her family, just “Emma” and words can’t express how wholesome that is because they love her regardless. All that matters to them is Emma’s happiness because if anyone deserves to feel and experience that, it’s her.

I just made myself tear up, damn it. I started this series with season one okay? I heard about this precious girl’s dream within the first minute of the first episode and here I am, a little bit over two years later, finally reading about it coming true and seeing that bright as hell smile on her face. Do you know how amazing it is to come full circle like that? My heart feels so full right now. I’m beyond proud of her and love her to death. Say what you want but I believe this to be the true manga ending in my eyes.

(damn this series for always getting me emotional)

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn emma #norman #ray #emma #chidoroki used chatter

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

Text

The Reward of Suffering

next chapter

Summary: A retelling of the events of season 12 episode 13.

Gif credit to the wonderful and talented @imagining-in-the-margins

A/N: After several months of contemplation, I have finally decided to post part one of my first ever fic on Tumblr! This fic will follow the event of Spencer’s prison arc, so needless to say there will be SPOILERS. This first part is super long, but I felt that it needed to be in order to set up the plot. I hope you all enjoy reading! If you would like to be tagged on future updates, let me know!

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem! Reader

Warnings: no smut (yet), mentions of past frug use, cursing, typical CM case talk

Word count: 12.1k

“Reid is in jail.”

I felt the color immediately drain from my face and an intense feeling of dread began to wash through my body. I sat up in my chair, back ramrod straight. I briefly looked towards the faces of my teammates, Luke and JJ to my left and Penelope to my right. Their faces were all contorted, displaying varying degrees of shock and confusion. It was hard for any of us to process what we were hearing. The idea of Spencer Reid, the same Spencer who wore a mask to the office on Halloween and put on elaborate magic shows for everyone’s children, doing anything that would warrant being put behind bars was preposterous.

Surely, this is all just a big misunderstanding.

“Jail?” Penelope squeaked out. My eyes flitted to her, taking note of the way her eyebrows were drawn together in disbelief. She was thinking the same thing I’m sure we all were; that there was no way Spencer Reid had engaged in any illegal activity. Spencer was a well-educated, highly regarded FBI agent, for Christ sake. He knew the laws of the land better than any of us.

“In Mexico.”

My attention focused solely on Emily. In the few weeks since I had come to know her, I had begun to look at her not only as a sort of fearless leader, but also as a kind of fiercely loyal friend that I was incredibly lucky to have. Emily somehow managed to find the perfect balance between being accommodating and stern. She was the kind of boss you could have a drink and cut up with after a long day, but she also carried herself in a way that demanded the utmost respect in the workplace. Emily Prentiss’s bravery was unmatched, and I admired her for that.

It shook me to my core when her eyes met mine and I saw the pure, unbridled fear in them. If Emily was scared, then this must be leagues worse than we could have ever imagined.

“What the hell is he doing down there?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. The call came in to Cruz from their lead investigator.”

Luke was the next to chime in. “What’s he being held for?”

“Drug possession,” Rossi said, before taking on, “with intent to distribute.”

For the second time that day, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Images of Spencer sitting across from me in a dimly lit coffee shop, tripping over his words as he confided in me, spilling his deepest and darkest secrets in a voice barely above a whisper. His voice had grown stronger as he neared the end of his story and he had dug deep in his satchel, producing a small golden coin. We both had tears in our eyes as we looked at the writing engraved into the coin; unity, service recovery. Spencer Reid was ten years sober, and the pride on his face was as clear as day.

There was no way he would throw all of that away.

“What type of drugs?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Rossi said, his voice shaky.

Rossi and Spencer had always had a good relationship. Spencer had admired his work long before he met him, having read and reread every book he had ever published. It had delighted Spencer that he and Rossi had managed to develop rapport so quickly. Rossi was the only one talented enough at the game of chess to even think of giving Spencer a run for his money, though many of us had tried. In one of many hushed conversations shared on the jet, he had once told me that he had begun to think of Rossi as somewhat of a father figure; he didn’t quite fill the role in the same way Gideon had, but Spencer was thankful just the same. One look at Rossi’s troubled expression was enough to tell me that the feelings were definitely mutual.

“Oh my God. This can’t be happening.” JJ was positively crestfallen, clutching a hand against her own chest in an attempt to ground herself. Her other hand came up to her face as she absentmindedly pushed her hair away.

“We need Lewis and Walker here, ASAP,” Emily directed her order and Penelope, who was quick to comply.

Everyone sprang into action, but I found myself unable to move, weighed down by the deeply unsettling circumstance. It felt as if I was no longer in my own body, like I was watching everything unfold from an outsider’s perspective. Maybe I am, I thought. Maybe this is all just some horrible nightmare. Any second now, my alarm will go off and this will all be over.

I waited and waited for my alarm to sound, but that never happened. Instead, Emily crouched down in front of me, grasping my arm firmly in her right hand.

“I know how devastated you must be. Trust me, I do,” she sympathized, her deep brown eyes boring into my own. “But Reid’s going to need you now more than ever. You’re his best friend and you know him better than anyone. Did he ever mention to you that he was going to Mexico?”

I shook my head numbly, my motions feeling alien and stilted.

“Never. He told me the same thing he told you; that he was going to Houston for a few days to meet with his mother’s doctor,” I whispered. I feared that if I raised my voice any higher, tears would begin to fall. Maintaining my composure was becoming harder with every passing second, and I wasn’t exactly privy to breaking down in front of my boss. “I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought.”

Emily sighed, letting go of my arm before straightening up.

“Apparently, none of us did. But I know damn well that this has to be a mistake. We’ll get him out of this.”

The apprehension in her voice told me that even she wasn’t sure we could pull this one off.

“This has got to be Scratch,” Tara stated, her voice wafting through the speakers of Luke’s laptop. Emily, Rossi, Luke and I were currently in the jet, on our way to the jail where Spencer was being held. All of us were huddled close together around the computer, listening on with eager ears. “He was laying low, and now we know why.”

“Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk,” Luke pointed out.

“The reward is even greater. He’s been punishing the team, and now his target is Reid.” Emily’s voice was full of frustration and contempt.

“Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara’s family,” Stephen chimed in. Not even his deep baritone voice could do anything to calm my frazzled nerves. “Maybe he’s been hiding in Mexico this whole time.”

“We also have to consider that it isn’t related to him,” I murmured. Several pairs of eyes locked on me, shocked. I had been uncharacteristically quiet since this whole ordeal began, limiting my responses to one word replies and hums of acknowledgement. On a normal day, I’d be throwing in my two cents any time I saw fit. Today, I was struggling just to keep breathing.

“Who else would it be?” Rossi asked.

“Drug cartels. Could’ve threatened Reid and used him as a mule.” Saying his name was painful, because it reminded me that we weren’t just talking about a victim with whom we had no personal ties; we were talking about our colleague and beloved friend.

“Agreed,” Rossi nodded. “This could simply be a case of bad luck. Reid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Spencer’s mom is okay.” JJ’s announcement was like music to my ears. I let out an audible sigh of relief. “The home nurse he hired said all is stable.”

“How long did he tell the nurse he’d be gone?”

“Three days.”

“That sounds reasonable. After the Palm Springs case, Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom’s doctor,” Emily interjected. I nodded along in agreement. He’d told me the same thing when I talked to him the night before last.

The fatigue in his voice had alerted me to the fact that things hadn’t been going so well with his mother. Her condition had been rapidly deteriorating in the recent months, prompting Spencer to make the tough decision to remove her from the assisted living facility she was at and into his own apartment. His main argument had been that no one could possibly take better care of his mother that him; that he was familiar with her condition and how best to respond when she had an episode. When I had asked him how he was handling it all, he was quick to reassure me that it was not anything he couldn’t handle.

Spencer’s loyalty ran deep; so deep that I knew he would do anything in his power to take care of Diana, but I’d never imagined that it would land him in fucking jail.

“Well, Houston is only a five-hour drive from the border,” Tara mused. “The question is, why did he go down there?”

“And why does he have narcotics?” Rossi was the first to speak on what was at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

“Yeah, exactly. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do that. Those drugs were planted on him,” Penelope insisted.

“Absolutely, but there’s something bigger in play. That’s why he crossed the border and kept it a secret. There’s something he didn’t want to share with any of you.”

I cringed at Stephen’s choice of wording. Spencer and I were as close as two people could be, and there was nothing I withheld from him. He knew everything about me, every dark and embarrassing thought that had ever crossed my mind; yet, he accepted me just the same. I had always assumed that it went both ways, that he was just as honest and forthcoming with me as I was with him. It hurt to know that there were things he kept from me, secrets that he felt he couldn’t trust me with.

But most of all, it absolutely gutted me to think that he was dealing with something so horrible that it landed him in jail, and he that he had to do it all alone.

“Okay, so what would make him risk everything?” Emily pondered aloud.

“His mom.” My answer was instantaneous.

A ping sounded from the other end of the video call, and we all leaning in, our interest piqued.

“Cruz just sent me the arresting report,” Penelope announced, clicking away at her computer before continuing. “It says here that Reid was involved in a high-speed chase.”

“What?” I choked out, my voice coming out several pitches higher than usual. “Spencer hardly ever drives.” I could feel my stomach begin to churn, bile threatening to force its way up my esophagus. This isn’t right, I wanted to scream. Our Spencer would never get himself involved in something that would put himself or others at risk.

“None of this sounds like him,” Penelope whispered, her thoughts mimicking my own. “It says he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap and that he was really confused. According to the arresting officer, he was really high on something.”

Unity, service, respect; ten years sober. All down the fucking drain.

I shot up from my seat, bolting down the walkway and into the bathroom. I immediately fell to my knees, barely managing to push my hair out of the way before retching into the toilet bowl. I continued like this for several minutes, only pausing momentarily when I felt large, soothing hands running up and down my back. Soft murmurings of reassurance alerted me to the fact that it was Luke who was sitting with me. I let out a strained ‘thank you’ before another wave of nausea hit me, rendering me speechless. Luke held my hair back, never once leaving my side.

When I had thrown up the entirety of my breakfast and all I could do was dry heave, I slumped back against the wall, relishing in how cool it felt against my flushed skin. A stretch of silence passed before he decided to break it.

“That was an extreme reaction,” Luke pointed out, still sitting in the floor with his legs crisscrossed. I noticed how closely he was watching me, his eyes focused on reading my expressions. He was profiling me, that much was obvious. It was an unspoken rule between us all that we would never profile one another, but any fight I had left in me had long since dissipated.

“He worked so hard to get clean, Luke. I wasn’t around when it happened, but he told me about it. He was so proud of himself,” I whispered. My throat was now raw and my voice came out more than a little bit hoarse.

Luke’s eyebrows came together, confusion clear on his face.

“Get clean? What are you talking about?”

I let out a shuddery breath. It felt wrong to divulge information on Spencer’s personal life; like I was betraying his trust. Given the circumstance, I supposed he wouldn’t mind, but it still felt treacherous and left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry, Spence.

“Ten years ago, Reid was kidnapped by an unsub with DID. He kept him in a remote cabin for several days, alternating between beating him senseless and shooting him full of so much hydromorphone that he couldn’t remember his own name. At one point, he even,” I trailed off, hot tears spilling out of my eyes and running down my cheeks. Luke took my hand in his in an act of reassurance, his way of telling me not to rush. Luke hadn’t been with us for long, and our interactions thus far hadn’t gone much farther than conversations about work. Seeing the way he was offering himself up to me as a confidant and shoulder to cry on made me feel guilty for ever having written him off.

Thank God for Luke Alvez.

After a long pause, I managed to continue. “Spencer ended up having a seizure and he died for several minutes. The unsub’s more benevolent personality, Tobias, was able to resuscitate him. Eventually Spencer was able to take him down, but the trauma mixed with the exposure to such a highly addictive drug led to him developing a dependence on it.”

Luke swore and ran a hand through his hair.

“I never would’ve guessed it. The kid carries himself so well.”

A small, fond smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

“He’s amazing, really. He detoxed all by himself and started going to NA meetings. This past October marked ten years. We celebrated by going to one of those really fancy museums he likes and he insisted on taking the guided tour so that he could see how many errors the guide would make,” I let out a light laugh at the memory. “Every time they’d get something wrong, he’d lean down whisper the correct information so that only I could hear it. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that happy,” I reminisced, allowing myself to forget about the current situation for the tiniest of moments. I wondered if I’d ever get to experience a day like that with Spencer ever again.

“You two are close, I take it?”

I nodded. Luke had fit in with the group so seamlessly that I had forgotten that he had only been with us for a short time. He didn’t really know the dynamics of everything yet.

“He’s my best friend.”

Luke hummed, and I could feel his eyes looking at me inquisitively.

“And that boyfriend of yours, he doesn’t mind?” Okay, maybe Luke was a little bit more perceptive than he let on.

Gavin and I had begun dating at the end of my first year with the BAU. He and I had meet in the most cliché of ways; bumping into each other in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. Gavin was more than a little bit handsome, but what had reeled me in had been the way he taken one look at the box of cereal in my cart and immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

“Plain Cheerios? Are you some sort of masochist, or something?” he had asked, a playful lilt to his voice. Normally, if a strange man had approached me in public, I would’ve been quick to express my disinterest. If my job had taught me anything, it was that a woman being approached by a strange man was a recipe for trouble. But something about him seemed wholly unthreatening, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his forwardness, raising an eyebrow at him.

“As if your choice is any better. Lucky Charms? What are you, six?”

“Don’t even go there. Lucky Charms are magically delicious, thank you very much,” he sniffed, feigning superiority. “And if we’re touching on the subject of age, the only person I know that eats plain Cheerios is my eighty-six-year-old grandmother. You look a bit young to be worrying about heart health, and I refuse to believe that you actually enjoy the taste, so what gives?”

“First of all, I find it concerning that you are so familiar with cereal slogans,” I breezed, leaning against my shopping cart. “Second, I am curious; do you make it a habit to harass people about their cereal preferences?”

“Only if they’re cute.”

And that had been that. Several dates later he had asked me to be his girlfriend over a dinner he had attempted to make himself. I said yes and he kissed me, nearly knocking over his plate of burnt chicken parmesan in the process.

“We, uh, have an understanding. He knows that Spencer and I are just good friends.”

Gavin and I did have an understanding, but it wasn’t a very solid one. In fact, I was sure that he damn near despised Spencer’s very existence. He had done a good job at hiding it for a while, but after coming home one night from an impromptu movie night with Spencer, he had revealed to me that he had a jealous streak a mile long. I reassured him that there was absolutely nothing that he needed to worry about, but I could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. Gavin had out flat demanded that I cut all ties with Spencer, and I had laughed in his face.

“I’m not the kind of girl that likes to be told what to do. Either you learn to live with him being a part of my life, or you can find someone else to boss around, because I can tell you right now, that won’t fly with me.”

My threat had proven to be effective, and he had apologized, and that had been the end of that. He still wasn’t fond of the idea that Spencer and I were such close friends, but he hadn’t tried to proposition me with any more ridiculous ultimatums.

“That’s good to hear,” Luke hummed, squeezing my hand before rising to his feet. I could tell that he didn’t necessarily buy into what I was saying, but I was thankful that he didn’t press it any further. “What do you say we go back out there. We’ve got to be getting close by now.”

I nodded and he helped me to my feet. I bent down to the faucet, swishing some water in my mouth before spitting it out.

When Luke and I returned to our seats, I was immediately aware of the way Rossi and Emily were eyeing me; like I was a delicate thing that needed to be handled with kid gloves.

I absolutely hated it.

“Sorry about that. It won’t happen again,” I said, before turning my attention back to the video call and saying, “so, what did we miss?”

The police station was surprisingly small. The hallways were narrow and the light bulbs above me gave off an almost green tint, casting an eerie glow on the place. The sounds of disgruntled detainees calling out drifted through the hallways, sounding akin to the moaning of a ghost. My eyes darted around constantly as we walked, the uneasy feeling in my stomach growing with every step we took towards the heart of the precinct.

“Thank you for calling us.” Emily’s words were directed at the police officer, Chief Castenada, who was leading us down the hall. He was a short man with graying hair and a seemingly permanent frown etched into his face. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he wasn’t happy that four federal agents were in his jail.

“A U.S. fed in our custody isn’t something we see every day,” the man said, his tone entirely unfriendly. I grimaced.

“Have you gotten any of his tox screen panels back yet?” I prodded, quickening the pace of my strides until I was walking alongside him. He looked down at me like I was a pesky gnat that he wanted to bat away.

“No.”

Color me unsurprised.

“You’ll need to expedite that. We have cause to believe that Doctor Reid was drugged.”

“He was definitely high and driving like a bat out of Hell. Not to mention he had $20,000 worth of heroin in his possession,” he sneered, ceasing to walk and staring down at me with distaste. “Both of which put my officers at risk. You’re in our jurisdiction. Don’t forget that. The rules are different here.”

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back with some smart-assery of my own, but a hand at my elbow stopped me. I turned and saw that it was Luke, who nodded his head to the left of us. I looked in the direction he was referring to, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Just up ahead was a holding cell with several poorly constructed benches in the center of it. On the very first row of seats sat Spencer, who had seemingly retreated in to himself. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped pitifully around himself, much like you’d imagine a child might do to keep warm. Spencer’s clothes were tattered and dirty and a bandage adorned his right hand. His usually beautiful chestnut curls were flying around his head in a mess of tangles and dirt. Despite the fact that Spencer towered over most of us, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly small he looked.

Even as awful as he looked in his current state, a direct contradiction of the way he usually presented himself, I’d never been happier to lay my eyes on someone in my life.

My feet carried me forward before my brain had time to catch up. I closed the distance between me and the cell, pausing and taking a good, long look at him before allowing myself to speak. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet. His gaze was instead trained on something at the other end of the room, his eyes red rimmed and glassy and his face completely slack.

“Spence?” I called out, the nickname falling from my lips like a prayer. In a way I suppose it was; a prayer that he was alright, that the horrible things Penelope had told us about were nothing but a horrible lie. At first, I was worried that he hadn’t heard me or that he was too out of his mind to even register the sound of my voice. Just when I opened my mouth to speak again, he turned his head in way that I would have described as comically slow if the situation hadn’t been so serious. The spacey look in his eyes told me that my prayers wouldn’t be answered.

Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, but his face remained completely blank, devoid of all expression. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until it hit me like a ton of bricks; he had no clue who I was.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how could he forget me, of all people. My anger was irrational and unfair, but I couldn’t help it. While I understood that it was no fault of his own, that the drugs coursing through his veins were to blame, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I swallowed down the emotions that threatened to spill out, pushing them down into the depths of my being. I couldn’t let my emotional attachment hinder my judgment. I needed to be as vigilant as ever, no, more vigilant. The fate of my favorite person in the whole world depended on it.

“It’s me, Y/N,” I explained, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage. “It’s good to see you, Spencer. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He watched me for a moment before standing and making his way to where I was leaning against the bars.

“Y/N,” Spencer murmured when he reached me, as if testing my name out to see how it rolled off of his tongue. His stare was still vacant, but having him in front of me after worrying about his wellbeing for the last five hours was more than enough for now. I’d take him however I could have him. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we came,” I murmured, my eyes raking over every inch of his body for any signs of distress. Other than the bandage on his hand, he seemed to be in one piece.

Rossi was quick to join me, coming to a stop at my left.

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he reassured, his tone more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“We need to work out some details with the locals, okay?” Emily said, waiting for a response but getting none.

“Who was your contact down here?” Luke asked.

Spencer was quicker to respond this time.

“Rosa,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled it up. On his inner arm, the name Rosa Medina was written in what was undoubtably his own handwriting. Spencer was notorious around the office for having the worst handwriting. I like to blame it on the fact that he was a doctor, which always elicited a laugh from him. “I think she’s a doctor.”

Luke pulled his phone out from his pocket, snapping a picture of the name.

“Where did you meet her?”

Spencer shook his head and a frown pulled down at the corner of his lips.

“I… I don’t remember.”

“If you saw her, would you remember her?”

Spencer nodded in affirmation.

“You’re missing time, aren’t you?” I asked, causing him to look at me once more. His brows furrowed together and he was nodding again, slightly surer of himself this time.

“It’s peeking out. It’s coming in flashes.”

“And you’ve been drugged?”

I didn’t know it was possible for his face to fall any more, but the look of shame that manifested itself when he registered my words was absolutely heartbreaking.

“Yeah, but I didn’t take it myself,” he insisted, a spark of life burning bright in the depths of his eyes. Somewhere in there, under the haze of narcotics, was the same Spencer that had fought tooth and nail for his sobriety all those years ago. My heart broke for him.

“Of course, you didn’t, Spence. We know that,” I said, almost reaching out to touch him before thinking better of it. “We’re thinking it might be Scratch.”

Just like before, when I had first spoken to him, absolutely no sign of recognition showed itself on his face.

“Scratch,” he muttered detachedly, much the same as before.

Luke’s phone rang then and he excused himself for a moment before stepping away. I looked to Rossi and Emily, who seemed to also be at a loss for words. The silence that filled the room was excruciating, and I once again started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to cry out in frustration. The whole situation was unfair in a way that I didn’t think was possible. I was a big believer in karma; put good in and get good out, or something like that. But now, standing outside of a holding cell that looked more like a dungeon than anything, I was ready to throw away that belief entirely.

Of all the people that I know, Spencer was the least deserving of something like this.

Just when I began to consider ducking outside for a breath of fresh air, Luke returned.

“Hey, the team sent this. Is this the doctor you met?” he asked, pointing to a picture of a woman he had pulled up on his phone. The woman was of Mexican descent, with short, choppy gray hair. She appeared to be middle aged, from what I could guess.

Spencer stared at the picture before nodding.

“Her alias is Rosa Medina and her real name is Nadi Ramos. Garcia tracked her to a motel just outside of town. Does that sound familiar?”

Spencer’s brows furrowed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll need to take Castenada and his officers with us,” Emily announced, before turning and heading towards the door.

“Do you want company here?” Rossi asked.

Spencer seemed to take a moment to process before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. He turned his head and focused his gaze on me.

“Can… Can you stay?”

Rossi turned to face me too, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you okay with this?’ I gave him what I hoped was a convincing smile. Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could handle this; the this that I am referring to being a nearly catatonic Spencer Reid. I was used to the Spencer who regaled me with interesting tidbits of information whenever there was a lull in conversation. The Spencer that stood before me now was a shell of his former self, and that terrified me.

“I’ll be fine here. Let me know if you guys find anything,” I told Rossi. He nodded once to me before enveloping me in a tight hug.

“Resta forte mia piccolo colomba,” Rossi murmured in my ear. I hadn’t a clue what the phrase meant, but the words draped over me like a warm blanket. Suddenly the weight of the current situation didn’t seem so heavy, and I felt immensely thankful that a man like David Rossi was in my life.

Rossi pressed his lips to the top of my head before releasing me. He gave one last, despairing look to Spencer before hurrying off after Luke and Emily. It could’ve been the light playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion, but when Rossi turned away from us, I swear I saw tears welling in his eyes.

And then there were two.

I took glance at my watch for the first time all day, cringing when I saw the time to be 8:17PM. Quantico was an hour ahead, meaning Gavin was probably losing his shit wondering where I was. I sighed, fishing my phone out of my back pocket and turning it on.

“Spence, I’m going to make a phone call really quick,” I murmured. He offered no reply, just as I had come to expect. He was watching me, standing stock still in the same place he had been the entire time. I moved to stand in the doorway, hopefully far enough away that he couldn’t hear me anymore.

As soon as my phone booted up, a plethora of notifications came through. Seventeen missed calls and twenty-four unread text messages, to be exact. I decided to forgo reading the messages, instead pressing the return call button and tapping my foot anxiously against the floor. Gavin didn’t keep me waiting long, picking up on the very first ring.

“About time you answer your goddamn phone,” he hissed out. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I even called your office phone and no one would answer that, either. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”

“I’m… In Mexico.”

A long pause followed and I held my breath, waiting for the onslaught to begin.

“You left the country without even bothering to tell me?” Gavin asked, his voice raising in volume. I could picture him now; probably sitting on our sofa, fists balled together and jaw clenched. “Would you like to enlighten me as to why you’re in Mexico?”

I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling deep inside me. Today was arguably the shittiest day of my entire life, and I certainly didn’t need Gavin harping on about how I hadn’t been in touch. Honestly, informing him of my whereabouts had been the furthest thing from my mind.

“It’s Spencer,” I began, trying to think of the proper way to word it all. “He got into some… trouble. We think he’s being framed by Scratch.”

“Isn’t that the guy that just went after Tara’s family?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s been laying low for the past few months, and I guess he was just building up to all of this. It’s really bad, Gav,” I whispered the last bit, hoping that Spencer couldn’t hear me. If he did, he made no move that indicated it. “He’s high out of his mind and can’t remember anything.”

“How long will you guys be there?” Gavin asked, completely ignoring the fact that I mentioned Spencer at all. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from saying something I might regret. I understand that he doesn’t like the guy, but he could show some common decency and at least pretend.

“I’m not entirely sure. Rossi, Emily, and Luke just headed out to go check on a lead. I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Wait, so, where are you?”

“I’m at the jail with Spencer, why?” I inquired, running my hand through my hair and absentmindedly combing out the knots that had formed. I was sure that I looked a right mess, but I couldn’t be too bothered to care.

“Let me get this straight. They left you alone with a guy who is wasted on God knows what, not knowing how he’ll react to it?” A bitter laugh flowed through the phone speaker. “Sounds like you don’t exactly work with the smartest bunch. What if he tries to attack you or something?”

I let his words hang in the air for a moment, unable to formulate a reply that wasn’t something like you’re being an absolute fucking dick bag right now. No, I was a grown woman and I was going to communicate like one, despite the fact that his ignorant reply was making me shake with rage.

“The first thing I’m going to address is the fact that this is not some guy. We’re talking about my best friend and teammate, and his name is Spencer. Use it,” I said through gritted teeth. “The second thing is that he’s not some wild animal. He’s not going to try to come through the bars and pounce on me. What he’s going through right now is traumatic, and he doesn’t need to be left alone right now. Show some compassion.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry,” Gavin muttered. It was the most unapologetic apology I’d ever heard in my life, prompting me to roll my eyes. I don’t understand how I can love someone and want to throttle them simultaneously. “I’m just worried about you, is all. How are you holding up?”

“I’m as good as can be expected,” I sighed, bringing my free hand up to rub at my eyes. “I’m just tired of watching this guy terrorize all of my friends. First, he takes Hotch from us, then he nearly kills Tara’s brother, and now this. I’m beginning to think we’ll never catch a break.”

“I know you’re tired, baby. Just try to hang on a little bit longer. As much as I question some of their decisions, your team is good at what they do. You guys will catch him. I have faith in you.”

There it is. That’s the Gavin that I fell in love with.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s been a long day and I needed to hear that.” I cast a glance back at Spencer, who was now staring down at his bandaged hand, an indiscernible expression on his face. He looked so lost, standing all alone in the grimy holding cell. The lights cast shadows on his face, making his already angular face look gaunt. The Spencer I knew was the human embodiment of light; filling up every room he was in with his delightfully idiosyncratic presence. The Spencer in the cell was so shrouded in darkness that the room seemed to be swallowing him whole, taking his brilliance and crushing it into smithereens.

“Gav, I think I need to get back in there.”

“Yeah, alright. Just keep me in the loop this time, please. I don’t like not knowing where my girlfriend is.”

“I’ll make sure to check in whenever I can,” I promised, before tacking on a, “love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I pocketed my phone with hands that shook, no longer from rage but from apprehension. I liked to think that I was good at my job. I had done well at the academy; not well enough to have graduated at the top of my class, but I did manage to be in the top ten. After lucking into the job of a lifetime, I had fully committed myself to learning to be the best profiler I could possibly be. Two years of piecing together the innerworkings of criminal minds had taught me more than I ever could have imagined about the human psyche. I had talked many a deranged psychopath down from the ledge, and I had saved more than a few lives along the way. Unfortunately, not all cases can end favorably. Those are the ones that taught me the most.

For all that I learned, nothing could’ve prepared me to deal with the shell of a man that stood before me.

I was standing in front of him now, fiddling nervously with my hands. When Spencer had originally told me about his battle with addiction, I had taken it upon myself to do some research of my own. I wanted to be able to identify the signs, God forbid he ever relapse. While conducting my research, I had read somewhere that the best way to support someone during a come down is by remaining positive and creating a calm, safe environment.

I was currently the antithesis of calm, but for Spencer’s sake, I was going to do my best.

I took a step forward and offered him a small smile.

“I’ve never seen you in jeans and boots before,” I said. I was proud of myself when the words came out sounding relatively casual. “It’s a good look on you, but I have to admit I prefer the academic look. I suppose it’s the sapiosexual in me.”

He gave no response, but the tinniest tug at the corner of his mouth told me that he found my comment amusing.

I let my eyes drag over him again and I fixated on the bandage on his right hand, frowning.

“Do you remember what happened to your hand?”

Spencer raised his hand up, absentmindedly flipping it over and inspecting it.

“I don’t know,” he murmured. Spencer’s usually high pitched voice came out gravely, no doubt a byproduct of dehydration related to the drugs. My eyes skimmed across the holding cell and I frowned when I saw no water fountain in sight.

“M’ gonna go get you some water, okay?” I turned away and pivoted on my heel, taking one step before a hand wrapped around my upper arm. I spun around so fast I nearly caught whiplash.

Spencer’s eyes were wide and full of panic, conveying more emotion than he’d had since we’d arrived. His eyebrows were drawn together as well, contorting his face into a pitiful expression.

“Don’t go,” he rasped, his hand still firmly grasping my arm. “Please.”

The hopelessness in his voice was like a dagger through my heart. I nodded fervently and placed my hand over his, prompting him to loosen his grip. He did, and I took his hand in both of mine. I rubbed my thumbs over his skin, haphazardly tracing patterns in an attempt to calm him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” I soothed, bringing his hand up to my mouth and placing a chaste kiss to the skin. “I’ve got you, Spence. It’s all going to be okay.”

The look of panic slowly washed away the longer we stood there. He held onto my hands like I was a lifeline, the only thing tethering him to the ground. While I longed for nothing more than to really embrace him, to pull all of him into my arms and hold on for dear life, the bars that separated us inhibited me from doing so. So instead I just relished in the feel of his hand intertwined with my own.

It would have to be enough for now.

Nadi Ramos was dead.

I didn’t have to ask Emily to know that the situation had gone from bad to absolutely fucking terrible. We knew Scratch was a horrendous individual; that much had been proved by his preferred modus operandi. We also knew that he had become fixated on taking down each of us one by one. He’d tried twice with Hotch, even going as far as to target his son, resulting in the two of them joining WITSEC for their own safety. The next blow had come when he had set his sights on Tara, or, more specifically, her brother. We’d gotten lucky with that one, having located and freed her brother just in the nick of time. After the incident with Tara’s brother, we all expected the next attack to come in quick succession. When several months passed with no sign of Scratch, we all became terribly on edge. No one was saying it, but we all were waiting to see which one of us would be next, crossing our fingers and hoping it wouldn’t be us.

I knew that none of us were exempt from Scratch’s wrath, but for some reason, I’d never imagined him targeting Spencer.

And target him he fucking did.

“We know you didn’t do this,” Emily spoke for the group, knowing good and well that we were all on the same page.

“How did it happen?” Spencer’s back was to us. His shoulders were slumped and his face downturned.

“She was stabbed multiple times. It looked personal,” Luke answered, his voice low and careful. It was obvious to us all that he was being extra careful with his wording, making sure to broach the subject carefully. We all knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Spencer was innocent; but that didn’t mean that Spencer did.

Chief Castenada trudged into the holding cell, the portrait of all things cranky and unpleasant. His presence acted as a proverbial storm cloud on an already shitty day.

“We got the results of your blood work. There’s cocaine and heroin in your system.”

“What else?” Emily asked, causing Castenada to give her a confused look.

“He was in possession of cocaine and heroin when he was arrested. I found what I needed.”

I felt myself bristle and before I knew it, my mouth was open and I was spouting out pure venom.

“Thanks so much for doing the bare minimum, but we’re going to need a full tox screen panel. We’re looking for scopolamine.”

Emily’s eyes cut over to me and if I hadn’t been fighting on Spencer’s behalf, I would’ve withered under the weight of the shut the fuck up look she gave me. Instead, I continued on, silently praying I’d still have a job after today.

“It’ll take longer, but we need it,” I explained in what I hoped was a slightly more accommodating tone. Castenada gave a curt nod in reply before exiting the room, grumbling something in Spanish that had Luke and Emily shooting daggers at his retreating figure.

“Do I want to know?”

Luke shook his head, shooting a small smile in my direction.

“Let’s just say he’s not your biggest fan, and we’ll leave it at that,” he offered, before straightening out his expression and turning back to Spencer. “You were given a speed ball. The opiates block the dopamine in your brain. That’s why things go from clear to hazy. The combination of the drugs causes a dissociative state and explains the memory loss. Are you coming down now?”

“I think so,” Spencer said. His cadence wasn’t as slow as it had been earlier, which was a relief.

“Do you think you could do a cognitive interview?” Emily’s voice was hopeful, and if Spencer was one thing, it was a people pleaser. It was obvious that he was overwhelmed; I had taken note of the fact that he was displaying one of his nervous ticks. Spencer was touching the pad of his thumb on the tips of his other fingers in rapid succession. Despite his obvious discomfort, he nodded his head in agreeance.

“I’ll try.”

Rossi took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to hold up the plastic bag in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at it inquisitively. There were five vials of a murky, dark brown liquid in the bag.

“There were five of these in your bag at the motel. Do you recognize them?”

Spencer’s eyes zeroed in on the bag and its contents, his brows furrowing. It wasn’t long until a look of partial recognition flashed across his face. It was so faint that if he hadn’t been in a room of profilers, it would’ve gone unnoticed.

“What is it?” I asked from my place at his side. He’d been somewhat clingy since the incident that had transpired while everyone was at the motel, gravitating towards me as soon as we all had been granted entrance to the holding cell. I knew that he needed familiarity right now; he was in a very vulnerable state and he needed something that made him feel safe and secure.

Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I had realized what he was doing, that I was that thing that made him feel safe and secure.

Spencer opened his mouth once before closing it, as if trying to put his thoughts into words was difficult. He did this a few more times before settling on,

“Whatever’s in those vials, I was giving it to my mom,” he said, his eyes darting around the room as he spoke. “That’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

“I’ll have them run it through the lab,” Rossi said, before leaving and heading towards the direction in which Castenada had retreated.

Emily and Luke were quick to hop into a rushed conversation, leaving only Spencer and I still in the cell. I looked up at him, at the way his forehead creased as he bit his lip in quiet contemplation.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a cognitive? I know the effects may be wearing off, but you’re gonna be cloudy for a while. If you don’t want to do it now, all you have to do is say the word,” I murmured, keeping my voice low so that only he could hear it. “I can tell that you’re a bit overwhelmed, and that’s okay.”

Spencer’s response came in the form of a shrug of his shoulders.

“I want to try, because I know it’s important. I just don’t know that it will be of much help,” he replied, casting his eyes down to me.

“Yes, it is important, but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’ll figure this out even if you can’t remember it all right now.”

Spencer nodded once before running his tongue across his chapped bottom lip.

“I don’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill her,” he whispered, barely audible. Even though his words were quiet, I could hear the desperation in them; almost as if he was begging me to believe them, begging himself to believe them.

I made the irrational decision then to throw professionalism aside and wrap both of my arms around his torso, my grip tight and assured. Spencer’s aversion to touch was common knowledge amongst us all, but for some reason that never seemed to apply to me, and I could see in his eyes that the way we were all treating him like he was fragile was wounding him more than he would ever admit. I hoped to remedy that with my embrace, and the speed in which he reciprocated was so fast that I was certain he was thankful. He wrapped his injured hand around my waist, the other finding purchase in my hair. I felt his chest move as he let out a shuddering breath.

“I know you didn’t, Spence. Everyone on the team knows you didn’t,” I reassured him, my words muffled as my face was pressed against his chest. “And we’re not going to stop until everyone else knows it, too.”

I was well aware that our embrace had garnered the attention of our teammates, but Spencer’s hold on me hadn’t faltered in the slightest, so I didn’t let mine either. Instead, I gripped the fabric of his flannel shirt tighter in my hands.

When Emily exited the room in which they had conducted the cognitive interview, the look on her face was grim. I visibly cringed at the sight as I felt the sliver of hope that I had left die a miserable death.

We are so beyond fucked.

“How’s he doing?” Rossi asked, obviously taking note of the distress on Emily’s face.

“He’s made some breakthroughs, but I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be,” she sighed, running a hand through her jet-black hair. When none of us spoke, Emily’s eyes flitted around, finally noticing that our expressions were a direct reflection of her own. “What is it?”

“They just charged Reid with the murder of Nadi Ramos.”

Hearing it said aloud wasn’t any easier the second time.

While the rest of us had taken it upon ourselves to lean against the cement walls, Luke had begun pacing down the short hallway. After about ten minutes of unbearable silence, he decided he’d had enough.

“We can’t get him out of here, can we?” he finally spoke, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

“I don’t know how.”

“He didn’t kill her,” I reiterated, speaking more to myself than the three of them.

“If all I had to go on was the evidence, I would swear he did,” Rossi sighed. I knew he was right; Spencer’s personal belongings were all over the hotel room, which was about as incriminating as you could get. “But knowing Reid, hearing the cognitive…”

“Yes, he said there was another person in that motel room, but,” Emily pressed play on the audio recording, and her voice proceeded to flow through the speakers.

“Who has the knife? Who is stabbing Rosa?”

“I don’t know. It’s in my hand.”

Emily pressed the power button and the screen went black.

“Right now, this is just more evidence against him.”

“So, what do we do now? Do we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until the consulate agrees to the extradition?” I asked. “There’s got to be more we can do. We can’t let them take him to jail, he won’t survive in there.”

“I called in some help from IRT. Clara Seger and Matt Simmons will be arriving at any moment,” Emily said, checking her phone after hearing it ping. “In fact, that would be them. They’re here.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as we all fell into step beside Emily. Having people from other areas of expertise that are willing to help is a good thing. Maybe they’ll be able to see something that we didn’t.

“We come bearing good news,” I announced, leading the group as we all entered the holding cell. Spencer was quick to turn around and the corners of his lips pulled upwards as he set his sights on all of us. “Back up is here.”

“Hey Spencer,” Matt greeted, offering up a small smile before crossing his arms across his chest.

“Hey,” Spencer replied, moving to stand up from his spot on the bench. He was still a little wobbly on his feet, but he was doing much better than he was when we had arrived. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course. Jack and me are finishing up a case in Costa Rica, so we hopped on a commercial plane to get here,” Clara explained.

“We’re trying to stop you transfer to El Diablo.”

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me and he swallowed hard before speaking.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Hearing the hope in his voice tugged at my heart strings. The way that he could manage to stay optimistic at time like this was a true testament to his character.

“Yes,” Clara began. “Lab reports on the vials came back and some of what was in there hasn’t been approved by the FDA, but there aren’t any illegal substances.”

“That’s great news,” I sighed, letting out the breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“Is there anything else you remember about your time here?”

“I remember what happened to the vials at home. My mom threw most of them out.”

“So, that’s why you were here. To get more,” Clara said in an attempt to clarify.

“It must be,” Spencer murmured, shuffling anxiously from one foot to the other.

“Well, you’re off the hook for that. There’s no contraband involved,” Matt announced. Okay, this is good. One less thing to worry about.

“Yeah, but we’re still looking at the planted drug and the murder charges, which could keep you here for a long time.”

“Can we do anything to delay the transfer?” I wondered aloud. Clara took into account what I said and sighed, before turning towards Spencer once again.

“You said that you met Nadi, who calls herself Rosa, in Houston. Why didn’t she just give you the vials in the U.S.?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer said, running his uninjured hand through his hair. “I don’t know, but she helped us and I trusted her. I was right to. I still believe that.”

“Well, she convinced you to cross the border multiple times. She had you risk your life,” Matt argued.

“Because she must have something to lose, too,” I mumbled, eliciting a series of fervent nods from Clara. “Family, maybe?”

“We need to know more about her,” Clara said.

And then, something glorious happened. It was like a switch had flipped inside of Spencer’s head, and all of the sudden the lights were back on. I could tell that he had been struck with an idea, and it was a wonderous sight to behold.

“What was in those vials?” Spencer asked, only solidifying my observation.

Matt produced a paper with the lab results and began reading off the results.

“There are so nootropic compounds like Ampalex, uh, but also some more natural stuff; coral calcium, jimson weed, coconut oil, a variety of vitamins. B12, D3-”

“Where are we right now?” Spencer interjected.

“Matamoros, Northern Mexico.”

“Jimson weed, otherwise known as the Devil’s Snare, originated in Mexico but its natural growing region is further north or south of the border,” Spencer said, his words flowing out rapidly. I felt my heart soar and I didn’t even try to suppress the smile that fought its way to my face.

“Boy Genius is back,” I announced, and for just a moment, the mood in the room lightened for the first time all day.

“So, if it isn’t from here, then were did she get it?” Clara asked.

“Let me get Garcia on,” Emily murmured, dialing the number and tapping her foot as it rang. On the third ring, Penelope’s bright and cheerful voice filled the room, a sunbeam shining through on a cloudy day.

“Please tell me you’re calling to tell me some good news.”

“Garcia, I have some questions for you.”

“Hey, Penelope,” Matt greeted, earning a pleasantly surprised gasp from the woman on the other end.

“Oh my God, it’s the dulcet tones of Matt Simmons,” Penelope gushed. “Are you there to save the day?”

“I’m trying. Clara’s here, too.” A relieved sigh floated through the speakers.

“Knowing we have you guys as backup is providing me some much-needed hope, and I work better this way.”

“Hey, lady,” Clara greeted. “We’re trying to catch up on a few things. Where is Nadi Ramos from?” Before Clara even managed to finish her sentence, the sound of Garcia’s acrylic nails tapping away at her keyboard could be heard.

“Mm she lives with her family just north of Matamoros.”

“That must be where she got the jimson weed,” Emily pointed out.

“What’s weird in she crosses the border, like, a lot.”

“Why?”

“Well, she works in Houston at that clinic, but she also helps at a low-income healthcare center. I can’t find a visa on her, which is double weird. And, in finishing the weird trifecta, there’s a social security number on her W2 form.”

“Social security? She’s an American citizen?” I asked. Matt confirmed my suspicions with a nod of his head.

“Yeah, she had dual citizenship. She was born in Houston, and her family had to move back to Mexico. She lives with them and she works in the U.S.”

“This changes everything. We need to talk to the consulate,” Emily stated.

Just as things were beginning to look up, Chief Castenada decided to grace us with his presence once more; and this time, he had an entourage.

“It’s time for his transfer,” Castenada announced, looking pointedly in my direction.

“We’ve had a break in the case,” Emily argued, shaking her head at him. “The victim was also American, and that calls for extradition.”

Castenada merely shrugged before walking past us all.

“I’ve got orders, sorry,” he muttered, making Gavin’s apology from earlier in the day sound heartfelt in comparison. Castenada wasted no time in beginning to place handcuffs on Spencer, locking them in place with a definitive click. Spencer and I shared a look of panic before both of us looked towards Emily in a silent plea.

One of the men roughly grabbed Spencer by the arm and led him from the room. I watched in horror as they led him away, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I barely registered the fact that Emily was now on the phone. I just stood there, staring blankly at the entrance to the cell.

“With the victim having dual citizenship, we now have concurrent jurisdiction. It was my understanding that the official order to extradite SSA Spencer Reid would be evaluated,” Emily damn near snarled into the phone. She paused for a moment, listening to the voice on the other line, before a look of relief washed over her face. “I understand, thank you.” She promptly hung up the phone before turning to face Luke. “They’re taking it to their brass. Go get him.”

Luke took off in a rush, not needing to be told twice.

I only wished I could be there to see the look on Castenada’s face.

“We’re working on all channels here. Matt Cruz is on with the consulate right now. We could get an immediate extradition, but it’s just the beginning,” Emily explained, her voice stern.

Spencer regarded her with a weary expression. The drug induced haze had finally lifted, leaving him painfully aware of how dire the situation was.

“I really screwed up and I’m so sorry,” he choked out, resulting in a crack forming in Emily’s hard exterior. I couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Spencer Reid. Spencer’s eyes were like kryptonite to most; big and brown and full of emotion. I’m sure if you searched ‘puppy dog eyes’ in the dictionary, a picture of Spencer Reid would be found in example.

“It was for the right reason.”

“I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t kill anyone.” It was obvious in the way that he kept repeating the words that he was desperate for us to believe him. No amount of calm reassurance from us could quell the voice in his head that was surely telling him that we thought him guilty.

“We do, too.”

Clara was first to enter the cell, immediately followed by Matt.

“Hey, they approved the extradition,” Clara announced, smiling brightly at the three of us.

“Effective immediately,” Matt added on.

We all exchanged relieved smiles before Matt and Clara led Spencer from the cell. Emily and I were quick to follow, right on Matt’s heels when we were stopped by Castenada.

“I must point out that I feel like justice isn’t exactly being served with this move.”

I pursed my lips together. In the short time we had been in Mexico, my feelings towards the man had grown from distaste to almost a full-blown hatred. That being said, I couldn’t help but understand where he was coming from. If Spencer hadn’t been a federal agent, he wouldn’t be granted the privilege of the extradition. Nor would he be allowed to fly home with us. I hated to admit it, but Castenada made a valid point.

“I understand, but I can assure you that this has gone to the highest ranks and there will be a full investigation,” Emily reassured him.

“Thank you for working with us,” I offered in an attempt to smooth over the rift I had created earlier. Now that my judgement wasn’t so clouded by my need to defend Spencer, I could see the error of my ways. I hadn’t been the most professional.

Castenada nodded once in my direction before turning his attention back to Emily.

“For our reports, I would like to have the recording of that cognitive interview.”

I felt my blood run cold. That interview would just add to the list of things that could be used against Spencer in court. He had openly admitted to holding the murder weapon in his own hands, an admission that would surely earn him twenty to life.

We cannot give him that recording.

Emily seemed to be on the same page as I was.

“I didn’t record it.”

Castenada’s face contorted into an ugly frown.

“But that was our agreement,” he squawked angrily.

“I determined he was still under the influence. Anything he said wouldn’t have clarified matters.”

Castenada’s gaze never faltered, eyeing Emily in an attempt to discern if she was giving him the run around. Luckily, Castenada was unable to find a hint of dishonesty on Emily’s face, and he nodded in resignation.

Years of profiling will teach you how to control your micro expressions.

“You’re committed agents. And I’ve worked with the IRT before. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“We do. I promise,” I stated, my voice giving off more confidence than I felt. Yes, I thought to myself, there’s no doubt that we’re good at what we do.

But so is Scratch.

All was quiet on the jet, the steady thrum of the engine being the only sound that could be heard. Rossi had been the only one able to fall asleep, something that I would be sure to tease him about later. Next to Rossi sat Emily, who had busied herself with flipping through Spencer’s arresting report. Clara and Matt sat across from them, engulfed in their own hushed conversation.

Spencer had opted to sit on the couch, but he didn’t allow himself to sprawl out like he normally would have done. He was visibly exhausted, wiping at his eyes frequently in an attempt to keep the fatigue at bay. It was almost like he was punishing himself; like he didn’t feel he deserved the solace that sleep would bring.

“You should go talk to him. See if you can’t get him to lay down,” Luke whispered encouragingly from his seat beside mine.

“I have no idea what to say to him,” I confessed. I tore my gaze away from Spencer and turned my attention to Luke. “There’s nothing I can say that will make this any better.”

“You’re not wrong about that, but maybe just letting him know you’re here for him will help. Just go and sit with him, I’m sure he could use a friend right now.”

Luke was right. I let out a dramatic sigh before shooting Luke a pointed look.

“Since when did you get so insightful?”

A grin stretched its way across his face.

“Always have been, sweetness. It’s part of my charm. I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

“And on that note, I’ll be going,” I announced, standing up from my seat and walking the short distance to the couch. Luke’s chuckles sounded off behind me and I couldn’t help but smile; note to self, make more of an effort to get to know Luke Alvez.

I approached slowly, hoping not to startle him as he seemed to be lost in his own world. He didn’t notice me until I came to a stop in front of the couch. Spencer’s head shot up suddenly, the worry on his face melting away to form a small smile.

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile tenfold. “You looked like you could use some company. Do you mind if I sit?”

Spencer gave me a soft smile and scooted over, patting at the space next to him. I lowered myself onto the couch, angling my body so it was facing him.

“You’re tired,” I observed, leaning back into the soft cushions. Spencer shrugged in reply, opening his mouth to argue, only for a yawn to slip out. I let out a light laugh. “Don’t even try to argue. There’s no telling how long you’ve been up. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

Spencer’s eyes reluctantly met mine and I felt almost paralyzed when I saw the sheer vulnerability in them.

“Researchers from the University of Cardiff conducted a two-part study looking at whether people’s daily frustration or fulfilment of their psychological needs, such as feeling autonomous or competent, affects their dreams. The results from the first study showed that people who were frustrated with their daily situation tended to have recurring dreams in which they were falling, failing or being attacked,” he rasped out, his words jumbling together as they fell from his mouth in rapid succession. “The lead author on the study concluded that negative dream emotions may directly result from distressing dream events, and might represent the psyche’s attempt to process and make sense of particularly psychologically challenging waking experiences.”

“And you’re worried your dreams will reflect what happened today.”

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek before nodding in affirmation.

“I can’t promise you that you won’t dream about those things,” I began, my voice coming out soft. “But I can tell you that sleep deprivation can cause lots of very unfortunate symptoms like impaired memory, reduced physical strength, and inability to concentrate. Do you know how I know those things?”

A light flush dusted over the tops of his cheeks.

“Probably because I’ve made it a habit to bore you with my information dumps.”

I shook my head adamantly, reaching a hand up and ruffling up his hair. He batted my hand away, ducking his head to try and hide the smile tugging at his lips.

“Never a bore, Spence. But yes, I know those things because of you and that remarkable brain of yours. And we’re going to need that remarkable brain in tip top shape if we want to get you out of this mess, understood?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented.

I patted a hand on my lap, an invitation for him to use me as a pillow. He seemed hesitant, eyes flitting from my face before going back down to my lap.

“Don’t act shy around me, Pretty Boy. I know better than anyone that you’re a secret cuddle bug,” I teased, earning a snort from the man next to me.

“Am not,” he harrumphed, before deciding to take me up on my offer. He laid his head down on my lap before stretching his legs out across the expanse of the couch. My heart lurched pitifully when he nuzzled his head into my leg before letting out a loud sigh.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, voice thick with emotion. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, casting tiny shadows on his face. I smiled at the sight and began carding my hands through his hair.

“No need to thank me,” I murmured, raking my nails against his scalp and eliciting a pleased hum from him. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re going to get you out of this. I know we will. And don’t worry about your mom, either; I’m going to check on your mom every day, I promise.”

Spencer’s breathing stuttered at the mention of Diana, and I worried I had crossed a line. He stayed silent for a moment, before moving his hand up and squeezing my knee.

“You’re entirely too good to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’d do the same for me. That’s what friends are for.”

No more words were exchanged, and within five minutes Spencer’s breathing evened out and he was asleep.

Several hours later, we were all filing out of the elevator and into the bullpen. I shivered slightly as the cool air hit my bare arms, but I tried not to show my discomfort. I’d shrugged off my sweater and offered it to Spencer the moment we stepped off the jet, draping it across his cuffed hands in an attempt to conceal them. Spencer had thanked me with a pitiful smile and I returned the sentiment, blinking several times to try and stifle the tears pooling in my eyes.

JJ was the first to greet him, with Stephen, Tara and Penelope following closely behind. I watched on for a moment before my attention was pulled elsewhere. Stephen’s phone had rung, prompting him to slip away from the group and retreat further down the hall. I furrowed my brow at this, taking advantage of my colleagues’ distraction as I wandered towards Stephen. I strained to hear his whispered words, but just as soon as I neared, he ended the call.

“What was that about?” I asked quietly. The look on his face told me that the news couldn’t be good, and I didn’t want to ruin the reunion going on just down the hall. They all deserved a few moments of relief.

Stephen let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his hair before speaking.

“I, uh, just got a call. Reid isn’t eligible for the bureau’s legal assistance.”

Stephen’s words sent a jolt of white-hot dread through me. “How is that even possible?” “Spencer went without being briefed, and he wasn’t in Mexico on government business. They refuse to represent him.”

I let my wary eyes drift down the hall, towards the group of wonderful misfits that I had grown to think of as family;

Penelope, whose optimism never wavered, even in the face of the absolute worst that the world had to offer.

JJ, a devoted mother with a heart of gold and a fierceness that inspired me every single day.

Tara, one of the most intelligent and caring women I had ever had the privilege to know.

Rossi, a father figure to all with enough wisdom to create a legacy that would inspire generations of profilers to be.

Emily, a fearless leader whom I trusted with my life and would follow into battle without question.

Luke, a newcomer who took special care to comfort me when I was at my worst.

Spencer, a man too remarkable to even try to describe with words. A man that anyone of us would defend until our very last breath.

That undeniable truth gave birth to the tiny sliver of hope growing inside of me. Spencer Reid was innocent, and we are all hellbent on proving it.

I nodded once in affirmation, more to myself than to Stephen, before allowing myself to meet his gaze.

“We’re on our own.”

And if anyone could pull this off, it was this team. My team.

There is a point when facing the unknown stops being a longed-for adventure and becomes a terrifying reality.

-Storm Constantine

#spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds self insert #prison spencer #prison!reid

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moriarty-bibliotheca · 3 years

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— 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ✉

𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔: Welcome 👋 can ask ? about Albert and Sherlock, what would they do and how they would react if their fiancée / wife were harmlessly shot during the mission? Thank you 🍀

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 , 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬 ❞

— 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

— 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗴𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁!

— 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀!

— 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱!

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: thank youuuu for such an interesting request! this is a little similar to BBC’s Sherlock Holmes in Season 4, Episode 1! if you’ve seen that show, you probably know which scene i was referring to. this will be written separately by character! anyway, let’s proceed! go ahead and check the story out! hope you’ll enjoy, dear!

❝ 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 ❞

Despite Albert's hesitation, you accompanied them during a mission and reassured him that you will be unharmed. You’ve been on several missions with them since the beginning, which is why you were confident that you’ll come back safe and sound.

But it looks like the outcome was entirely different.

You and the brother stood face-to-face with the man you were targeting, the atmosphere of the room felt heavy as you held your weapon that was inside your pocket. “What is the meaning of this?” questioned the man as his intense gaze stared at you and the brothers, “you could get arrested for trespassing my property!”

“You could get arrested for kidnapping children,” stated William as he held on his cane, “but that isn’t necessary, you will be receiving your punishment soon enough.” It seems he knew what William meant by “punishment” for his eyes grew wide as a saucer and his face drained of color, it was like he saw a ghost.

His fearful expression turned into a smug one as he gave William a smirk, he took out his gun and held it, he wasn’t pointing it towards anyone, but it was an indication that they had to be careful or one of them could get shot.

“I’m not dying alone,” said the man as he pointed the gun at Albert, your eyes immediately widened as well as William and Louis’, “goodbye.” After bidding farewell to the older Moriarty, the man pulled the trigger and the loud sound of the gun echoed into the building.

But then, Albert never felt the impact of a bullet piercing his chest or anywhere in his upper torso. “Y/N!” Louis’ voice yelled out the woman’s name as Albert opened his eyes, the reason he hadn’t felt the shot was because his beloved wife blocked his way.

“Y/N!” yelled the male as he kneeled and held you close as you clutched on the side of your arm. Luckily, it hadn’t hit any vital organs that could cause you immediate death. The man let out a laugh as soon as he saw how worried everyone else in the room was, William glared at him and immediately stabbed his chest. The man let out a scream as William pulled his sword away from his wound, causing the blood to seep out and stain the carpet and the man’s clothes.

“Why did you do that?!” exclaimed Albert as he inspected your wound and clutched it tight, “I told you not to do anything impulsive!” You gripped your wound to prevent yourself from bleeding too much, “I... didn’t want him to shoot you...” Your voice was merely a whisper, and your breath hitched as tears kept falling down your cheeks. “Let’s go back and treat your wound,” said Albert as he carried you and stood up, “please don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you rested your head on his chest, the sounds of his heartbeat calmed your nerves and made you feel relaxed. It lets you know that you were currently in the arms of your beloved, holding you close and showing no sign of letting go.

“It’s alright,” whispered Albert as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead, “I only do not wish to lose my beloved wife.” He looked at you as you relaxed yourself in his arms, “don’t close your eyes, my love, you’ll be okay.”

❝ 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬 ❞

You were helping Sherlock and John solve a case that Lestrade passed onto your beloved husband, you insisted on helping as you thought it will be quite the thrill to solve mysteries with your husband, and maybe you could be of help to him, even if it seems like he doesn’t need any help.

Hence why you were standing in front of the suspect who had a gun pointing at the three of you, you and John were unarmed whilst Sherlock had a revolver inside his pocket for he knew that there will be a time when he needed it.

“Looks like you caught me, Sherlock Holmes.” The grin on the man’s face sent chills down your spine, it was utterly eerie and it looked like he was the epitome of the man in your nightmares. “But, it’s not over yet.”

Then, the man pulled the trigger, and the sound of a gunshot echoed across the room. Sherlock’s eyes widened as he saw you jump in front of him and took the bullet, the small bullet hit you and the pain was immediately present. The Scotland Yard was waiting outside of the area, and after hearing the gunshot, they immediately rushed in to restrain the man and arrest him.

“Y/N!!!” Sherlock yelled as he kneeled and inspected your wound, John kneeled beside you and helped prevent any more bleeding. Lestrade immediately called for a medic to help treat you as you panted heavily, trying not to cry from the pain. “S-Sherlock,” you stuttered as you looked at him and cupped his left cheek with your bloody hand, “I’m okay, as long as you are safe.”

“No, you weren’t supposed to take the bullet for me!” Sherlock exclaimed as he and John helped you stop bleeding. The male let out a frustrated groan as he carried you and carefully laid you on the couch. “Damn it, Y/N,” said Sherlock as his free hand clutched yours, “don’t do that ever again.”

“I am willing to take a bullet for you anytime, darling,” you mumbled as you held his hand a little tighter, “I’ll be okay.”

Sherlock was sure that you will survive. He knew that your vital organs were not affected and the bullet did not penetrate you too deep to cause any internal bleeding, he held your hand and planted a kiss on your forehead before saying, “you will get through this, please don’t close your eyes.”

☎ 𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚'𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆: thank you for the wonderful request! this seems a bit rushed, i’m sorry! i hope you enjoyed, as always, read the rules and check the request status before sending in a request! have a nice day, loves! visit the bibliotheca again for we are always open for a good read!

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harryspet · 4 years

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could you write something where harry or sebastian is an officer at a prison and takes advantage of an inmate? maybe he threatens to postpone her release date?

you’ve got time | sebastian stan

[Warnings] dark sebastian stan x reader, noncon sex, oral (female recieving), prison au, CO sebastian, manipulation, blackmail, mom reader, little editing

A/N: I pretty much did your request straight forward! I hope you like it. Reader is 18+ TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD

In which you’re in prison and a CO named Sebastian Stan takes advantage of you.

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.5k

You were finally starting to make it in there. You hadn’t had to join a gang or find a girlfriend that was willing to protect you. You’d made friends, actually, and you were surprised by just how nice they were. You could do eight more months. That was no time compared to the girls who had twenty years left on their sentences. You could survive here.

“He likes you,” Leah said, shuffling the deck of cards you were all playing with. It was recreation time and your group liked to sit around one of the picnic tables, in the shade, because of the hot summer.

You looked around the table and the girls all nodded. They were all shapes and sizes, different races, and a lot were older than you.

“What?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Officer Stan,” She nodded in the direction behind you and you turned your head. Across the cement courtyard, you saw him standing in his navy blue uniform. He was classically handsome, his muscles protruding through the fabric of his shirt, but the look on his face was completely monotone.

You’d noticed him before but you didn’t think that he had noticed you. Not until your eyes connected and he didn’t let go of your gaze until you turned back around. It was like he was staring into your soul and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“See?” She continued.

“All he did was look at me,” You insisted.

“He’s been looking at you for ten minutes. He’s supposed to rotate every five,” Leah spoke as she passed out all the cards around the table.

“Go talk to him. Ask him who he’s gonna give the TV remote to in the day room,” An older lady spoke up, “If I looked like you, I’d made all the CO’s do whatever I wanted.”

You were sure that wasn’t how things actually worked. You couldn’t just use your looks to get what you wanted. Ultimately, they were the officers and they had the power, “I can’t get written up,” You responded.

“It’s just flirting, baby,” Leah grabbed the cards from your hand and slammed them back on the table, “If we miss another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, we’ll never catch up! You want to play, go talk to him.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line of frustration, “I have someone on the outside.”

“Don’t we all,” The older woman sitting across from you said, “What your man doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

You had lied and stole on the outside for your family and yet the act of walking up him was making your heart race. You stood up from the table and all the ladies began to clap and cheer you on. You looked back at them with a scowl as you made your way, the sun beating down on you, and your palms sweating.

You tried to look your best in prison. You made sure to shave when you could, you used color pencils to make eyeliner and you had a girl who painted your nails in exchange for packets of ramen.

Few things surprised Sebastian but, he had to admit, he never expected you to make a move. He’d had plenty of girls who tried to get things out of him from passing notes to sex and drugs. He’d turned them all down but you … he had no idea what he was going to do with you.

You rolled up your white sleeves, your bright orange top wrapped around your waist.

“Good morning,” You greeted him, unsure of how exactly you were going to accomplish this.

“What can I help you with, inmate?” He spoke calmly, his New York accent thick.

Inmate, your mind thought over the word. You had almost forgotten the rest of the world had forgotten you were still human.

You began to regret even letting them convince you to do this, “I-I … Uhm. I was wondering-” You cleared your throat, “I was wondering how your day was going. It must be hard … standing out in the sun.”

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, trying to narrow down your motives, “I don’t recall you ever being interested in my day before, inmate.”

You smiled awkwardly, “Well, today you just look especially … approachable.”

“And I don’t normally look approachable?” Your mouth dropped open a little bit as you struggled to find the words to respond.

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna go,” You turned to walk away and you heard him chuckle.

“What’s the real reason, inmate? Why are your friends staring me down?”

You liked his laugh. It made him seem more human. You turned back to him, playing with your nails as you tried to think of an excuse, “They want the remote control in the dayroom on Tuesday,” You explained, deciding not to lie.

He nodded his head, understanding, “I see, and then sent you to convince me?” You nodded, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment, “They’re smart, I’ll give them that.”

“I understand if-”

“They can have the remote. On Tuesday,” Your eyes widened and a real smile spread across your face. Sebastian noted it, how beautiful you were and how you were trying so hard to keep your group of friends. He knew how hard it was for the inmates who isolated themselves, “I hope you can make it up to me some time, Y/L/N.”

You didn’t think much of it at the time but you only thanked him, hurrying off to tell your group that you had made a huge score. By the time you looked back, Officer Stan had shifted his position and he was gone.

From then on, you noticed CO Stan everywhere. When you were in the cafeteria when you were leaving the showers, and especially when you were working your job in the laundry room. Your friends told you over and over that he probably had a crush on you but you never believed them.

He started talking to you more and more and part of you, that part of you that was missing a man’s touch, enjoyed his company. He watched as you did hours and hours of folding laundry which was more strenuous than it looked but it earned you ninety cents an hour.

“How much time do you have left?” He asked you.

“Eight months,” You answered, still hard at work, noticing him out of the corner of your eye.

“What are you going to do when you get out?”

You’d had plenty of time to think about is but you hadn’t even admitted it out loud. No one could afford to come and visit you and your friends only talked about gossip, “First, I’m going to get my son from his Dad’s mom. She thinks my kid is hers … she’s a nightmare. Then I’m going to move in with my sister and get my life together. She has a salon now so I’m gonna work there.”

Sebastian nodded, thinking your plan sounded decent. He still knew in the back of his mind that it was more likely you’d re-offend in a couple of months but it seemed like you had a good head on your shoulders.

“You should do makeup too,” He said, “You always seem to make yourself look good, even without any tools.”

You glanced back at him, a soft smile on your face, “You think?” Sebastian nodded, a smirk on his lips, and you turned back, “Thank you.”

“Call me Sebastian,” You hesitated before nodding. Even though there were two other workers in the room, it seemed like it was only the two of you in the universe.

“Thank you, Sebastian,” You said instead, “Did you always want to work in a place like this?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit, “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little,” You laughed at that. You never dreamed big like that. You never even thought you’d make it to the age you were now, “But, now, I just want to do something meaningful, you know?”

“I think that’s great,” You told him, “A lot of the CO’s don’t even wanna be here and that’s what makes them assholes. But you … you’re nice.”

You felt him move away from the wall where he was leaning, his steps getting closer. He rested his hand on the metal table you were working on and you heard him say, “Kelly, Torres, you’re dismissed. Go to dinner,” It was moments like this that you remembered the difference between the two of you. You watched the two other women scurry off and you flashed him a confused look.

He was grinning at you but there was something dark in his eyes, “We weren’t even done yet-”

“What about your baby’s Dad?” He asked which caught you off guard, “You didn’t mention him in your plan.”

You took a step to your side, creating more space, as you continued to fold uniforms, “He’s the one who gave my son to his mother. It’s hard for me to trust him so I … we’re not together right now.”

“But you want to be?” Sebastian continued, taking a step closer to you.

“Maybe when we both have our lives together … I think I would want that,” You spoke honestly, your heart starting to pound in your chest.

Sebastian hummed, “... What if you met someone who already had their life together? Someone who could take care of you and your son?”

You looked over him, frightened at what he might be implying, “Sebastian … what are you saying?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of your hand behind your ear. You froze but, as he leaned into you, you panicked. You pushed him away, and he fell back a step, looking up with frustration in his eyes, “I’m sorry!” You covered your mouth as your eyes widened, “I didn’t mean-”

Sebastian’s head turned to the side, “You’re saying that because you don’t want a write-up.”

“You tried to kiss me ... “

He shrugged, “You pushed an officer. That’s more than a write-up, Y/N.”

He stalked closer to you, grabbing you roughly by the arm and pulling you into him, “You wouldn’t … not after everything, right?”

“I’d do it to protect you,” He insisted, “If you got out, you’d probably run back to your boyfriend, and then what? You’d end up back in here a few weeks later.”

“You don’t even know me!” You tried to pull away from him and he only held you tighter. You were sure he was going to bruise you.

“I know enough,” He growled, pressing himself against you. He leaned down and you felt his breath tickle your ear. You cried out as he bit down on your ear and then started to place kisses there. You struggled even more, almost getting your knee high enough to nail his private parts but he slammed you against the table, “Assaulting a correctional officer, that’s a class four felony. I wonder how long they’d add to your sentence. A year? Two? How old is your son again?”

You thought your heart might stop.

You shook your head, “O-okay, just p-please … ,” You began to beg, stuttering over your words and you felt his grip loosen a bit, “I-I’ll do what you want.”

You felt him relax and, as if he hadn’t just turned into a cruel monster, he began to kiss your neck gently. He was psychotic, you were sure of it, and you were now at his mercy. If you wanted to go home in eight months, you’d do anything he said.

You could sense how hungry was for you as he kissed your skin. You tried not to think about how handsome he was, how you’d be interested in him if he wasn’t an officer. As his lips pressed against yours, you were still and he hated that. He grabbed your hair, pulling it back and causing you to yelp, “Kiss me back,” He commanded against your lips.

You nodded, moving your lips against his, hoping his grip on your hair would loosen and it did, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He said, lifting you onto the metal table like you were a sack of potatoes, “Take your shirt off. And your bra.”

He started to unbutton his navy shirt as he watched you. You tried to keep your breathing steady and tears from falling as you lifted the orange top. He was already hard for you and, pretending that you were willing, was making him want you more.

You looked away from him as you began to undo your bra. It wasn’t anything special, a boring shade of white that someone grandmother would probably wear. He didn’t seem to mind as your breasts were exposed to him.

You noticed his muscular chest as he slipped off his uniform shirt and his white undershirt. Then, he was taking off the belt that held all the weapons they allowed him. As he dropped them to the side, he went back to ravishing you, grabbing at your breast as he kissed you.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N,” He spoke as he started pulling at your pant bottoms. He pulled your panties with them, exposing your bare bottom to the extremely cold table, “You won’t need anyone else.”

As soon as your bottoms were off, he spread your legs open, grabbing tightly onto your thighs as he lowered his body. He pulled you to the edge of the table, his head dipping between your legs, and placing kisses on your thighs. You bit down on your bottom lip, thinking about how long it had been since anyone had touched you that way.

He kissed all the way down your thigh until he reached your sex, then his tongue danced between your lips, licking up and down your slit. You tried to run from it but he only gripped you tighter. He lapped at your sensitive bulb and you felt your breathing getting even faster.

You gripped the edge of the table as he easily brought you over your cliff’s edge. The moan escaped your lips, you couldn’t help it, and that only encouraged Seb, “So responsive,” He stood back up, positioning himself between your legs as he undid his zipper, reaching into his underwear to grab his hard member.

You didn’t look down, your face already showing your embarrassment but Sebastian grabbed your face in his strong hands. He made you watch his face as he positioned himself at your entrance, sliding into you. His blue eyes narrowed into yours as he began to push himself in and out.

He let go of your face, wrapping his arm around you so that you pressed into him as he thrust into you. He wasn’t gentle for long and began to pound into you. You found yourself holding onto his bicep as claimed you fiercely. You lost track of time, track of your entire reality, as the pleasure clouded your mind.

You yelped with each thrust and Sebastian tucked his head into your neck as he grunted, “You’re. Mine. Y/N,” He moaned each word with each final thrust, before pulling out, and covering your thighs with his warm serum. He leaned against the table, breathing heavily as he placed his lips on yours once again.

“Fuck,” He breathed, knowing he was going to enjoy you for a long while. Until your sentence was up and then he’d make sure you were his on the outside too.

I hope you enjoyed! Check out my master list for more of my works!

#sebastian stan x reader #dark fic #dark sebastian stan x reader #mcu smut #mcu #au #prison au #criminal au #marvel smut #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #marvel #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #harryspetrequests #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky

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