#lance x bobbi

[bruciemilf]

Fully believe the kids told Logan Twitter is a journaling app

[unholyhelbig]

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”  

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

[valenteal]

Okay but Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship really reminds me of Bobbi and Hunter from agents of shield? I just noticed that? God they were one of the first ships I got super into. I guess I’m weirdly drawn to the love/hate kinda toxic but care about each other so much dynamic. That much passion and raw emotion, it’s alien to me.

[coffeecupsandfinerwines]

Js, i would haves LOVED to see huntingbird go to space in season 5. And Enoch so could have picked them up.

[ioveskye]

Wonder| Leo Fitz x reader chapter 2

A/N: Heyy! finally the first chapter! let me know what you think <3

The ride to the S.H.I.E.L.D airbase was long and exhausting but for Y/n it was nothing but nerve-wracking. The last time she had a mission with S.H.I.E.L.D. it went horribly wrong, so she really hoped a repeat of last time would never happen again.

When she stepped out of the car she was immediately met with one of the biggest planes she's ever seen. Flying in smaller planes all her life probably changed her views on the plane even more now that she was in front of the big aircraft. After a few more moments of looking up, she saw another car approaching that stopped right beside hers. A tall man with raven black hair and a black suit walked out and she immediately recognized him as Agent Grant Ward. Coulson sent some background information that could be necessary about all the agents that would be on this team to the detective so she at least knew who she was working with.

"You must be Agent Ward," Y/n said as she approached the tall man.

Ward looked over at her and gave her what she thinks was a smile but she didn't quite catch it. It even looked like it annoyed him a little. "That's right, and you must be Y/n L/n? "

"That's me."

After the brief introduction, they both headed towards the plane that would become their home for the next few months.

As soon as she entered the plane voices of two arguing agents were heard. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch it! That's the Night-Night Gun." The curly headed man said, a Scottish accent filling Y/n’s ears.

The two new equated teammates looked at the pair of scientists that had been unloading when they arrived. Y/n observed the two for a bit, already knowing these were the two top-scientists of S.H.I.E.L.D in the past few years, agent Fitz and Simmons. Y/n may not have been an official agent but she knew enough from her past visits and cases.

Y/n crossed her arms in amusement and watched the pair, silently observing them before making herself known. To her surprise, Ward seemed to be doing the same thing.

"Well, it's on my stuff, and it doesn't work, and there's no way we're calling it the night-night gun." The brunette scientist replied, who Y/n knew to be Jemma Simmons.

The curly headed man, Leopold Fitz scoffed at her reply, not taking her comment lightly. "The bullets work. Nonlethal, heavy stopping power, Break up under the subcutaneous tissue–"

"Oh, with a dose of only .1 micro liters of dendrotoxin. I'm not Hermione, I can't create instant paralysis with that." Y/n laughed at her comment a little bit, the nerd in her coming up. Simmons grabbed a few bags and walked into the lab on the plane. "You should have run the specs by me before building the molds."

"The bullets are hollow! It's a marvel I can keep them from breaking apart in the chamber!" Fitz was getting agitated with his friend now, although Y/n wasn't sure if they were based on the bickering she was witnessing.

The pair seemed to not have noticed the two other people present with them in the cargo-hold. They kept up their bickering until Y/n saw Ward walk up to the two in the corner of her eyes, annoyance clear on his face. Right in front of the lab entrance, Ward dropped his large duffel bag on the ground- loud enough for Fitz-Simmons to hear them. The bag landed with a loud thud, and the two heads turned to him, the pair then quickly noticing Y/n behind him with a smirk on her face. Simmons seemed to be surprised while Fitz just carried an embarrassed look.

"Fitz-Simmons?" Ward questioned the two, the annoyance in his voice was just as present as in his facial expressions.

Y/n came to stand next to Ward again and pointed at the Scottish man in front of her, "That there is Doctor Fitz," Fitz gave the two a lopsided smile, putting up one hand to send them a small wave. Y/n smiled at him and then turned to the woman opposite him and then pointed at her, making sure Ward saw. "And this is Doctor Simmons."

"Hi, yea uhm." Fitz trailed off, his confidence dissipated a little when he looked from Y/n to Ward, the look he had was not welcoming. "I'm engineering and Simmons is Bio-chem."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n L/n, you can just call me Y/n though. Did Agent Coulson tell you I'd be joining you?" the woman walked into the lab, shaking the hands of the two scientists, hoping to make a good impression.

"Oh yes! Fitz and I have been reading a lot about your cases, it's an honour, truly." Simmons shook her hand cheerfully. "And call me Jemma!"

"Thank you so much Jemma, I've read a lot about the two of you when Coulson send me it. You guys are incredible. Although I think I'm the only one who did the reading." Y/n cheekily looked up at Ward who was silently judging the pair.

"Coulson said I'd need my comm receiver encoded." Ward handed Fitz the receiver which he grabbed swiftly. "Don't know if you've worked with that model before. It's.." Ward was interrupted when a loud noise filled the room. Both Jemma and Y/n looked at where the noise came from and met Fitz's gaze who had apparently just smashed Ward's receiver. "Brand new.." The agent trailed off and Y/n’s eyes widened, finding the situation kind of hilarious.

"Right, I need to find Coulson. It was good to meet you all." Y/n walked out of the lab, catching Fitz's look who gave her a small smile. Jemma had already ran off to do some scientific stuff, much to Ward's dismay. She still heard the three bicker a little bit when she walked up the stairs of the Bus.

***

After a brief introduction with agent Coulson, who had explained her role on the team- that being the private detective for their missions- she received her bunk on the Bus. It was a little small but it was really cozy which she enjoyed a lot. The brunette had found a place for the handful of books she brought along, making the place feel a little more like home after. Now all she needed were some pictures and it'd be perfect, but being the chaotic woman she was, she forgot them.

Coulson had gathered the new-found team to a briefing after they all had the time to settle in. He explained that there had been a sighting of a new enhanced person, right in the middle of the streets in Los Angeles. The hacker group- The Rising Tide- had shown up again after this ordeal and Coulson's plan was to use them to get to him. The plan itself was simple but they had to get one of them on board to interrogate, and Y/n had to admit she was a bit skeptical but since she was just a consultant she had no place to speak. While Coulson and Ward would get the Rising Tide lead they found the rest of the team would inspect the site of the incident, the part where Y/n came in.

Agent Melinda May was behind the wheel, driving the four to the broken apartment building in LA. Jemma had been sitting next to the Asian female, chatting away while May did her best ignoring her. Y/n smiled at the interaction between the two, finding the contrast quite funny. Fitz caught her look and smiled a bit, nudging her. The detective looked at the man beside her and smiled.

"So, I know we only met for a moment today, but I just wanted to say I'm glad Coulson got you on the team."

"Thank you, Fitz. I appreciate it." Her smile got a bit wider when he had complimented her, not many people showed appreciation to her besides her work so she appreciated it a lot.

"Have you ever worked with Shield before?" Fitz asked, hoping to continue the conversation before they arrived.

Y/n’s smile dropped for a moment and she avoided the mans eyes next to her, fumbling with a lose thread on her shirt for a bit.

"Yeah, once or twice." She said and finally looked back into his eyes. When she saw him already looking at her with a soft smile she couldn't help but smile back. "Coulson and I worked together before so since he was in charge of this team he asked for me."

"That is so cool. Going in the field and all." Y/n noticed how his left leg had started moving up and down out of nervousness. "I mean, the field is not always dangerous of course.." He trailed off as he finished his sentence.

Y/n put a hand on his leg, stopping it from bouncing up and down. Fitz looked at her in shock because of the sudden touch which caused her to let out a small giggle.

"Calm down, Fitz. Agent May is there with us, we'll be fine-." May's eyes looked directly at the woman in the rear view mirror after she had mentioned the agent. The look in her eyes caused her heart to sank. She forgot that Fitz-Simmons didn't know about her situation and quickly shut up.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh look! We're here!" Jemma exclaimed.

May drove straight into the street where the accident had happened. Y/n was secretly glad they had arrived before she had to talk about what she almost spilled. And if she had to tell them how she knew- that would be even a longer story to tell. And she wasn’t ready for that.

[daria1611]

well I just finished watching AOS. That’s it. still can’t believe it’s over and i am going to miss them. All of them. i have been crying for the last 30 minutes, I loved the way it ended but I will miss it. I will miss philinda, the way they both were so comfortable around each other, I will miss FitzSimmons but I am happy they’ve got their happy ending, i will miss Mack and YoYo, I will miss Deke even though I didn’t like him at the beginning, I will miss Bobbi and Hunter, I will miss Daisy, Lincoln and Enoch and Piper and don’t get me wrong but I will miss AIDA and Radcliffe and Talbot. But most of all I’ll miss the team. Their friendship. The way they would die for each other without second thoughts.. i just want to thank them all for making my life better. I will be forever thankful for the emotions they gave me. AND THE “CAVALRY” MOMENT WAS THE MOMENT, melinda may >>>>>

[wordsmithcreations]

Bobbi: I warned you that what you were doing was dangerous! But did you listen? No!

Hunter: Do you think you could save the lecture until after I’m no longer having to physically stop my insides from becoming my outsides?

[askthexmen-babysitterau]

And finally, Bobby, Kitty, Lance, Alison, Tabitha, and Kwannon are open for questions!

(FINALLY IM DONE WITH THE DESIGNS‼️)

[julietsays999]

Not a day goes by when I don't get upset that we never got a Most Wanted TV show. The sheer bisexual messes of Bobbi and Hunter plus the on the run vibes (and the potential for crossovers) would have been so much fun.

[lilsciencequeen]

drifting apart like two sheets of ice (my love) frozen hearts growing colder with time

“Daisy,��� Fitz began, his tone dropping from confusion to concern. “What is going in here?” “It was…” Daisy took his arm gently and started to guide him through the hospital corridor. “It was an ice rescue and things took a turn for the worse.” She paused for a moment, her voice breaking. “It’s not good Fitz.”

Or: A FitzSimmons 9-1-1: Lonestar AU

read below or AO3

They should have known something was wrong long before it revealed itself. Looking back on everything, it seemed obvious now.

That was hindsight for you. 

But at the time, it wasn’t something they had considered or had even thought about.

The job at hand had been what was important. 

Saving the kid was what had been necessary but they weren’t prepared for it.

Snow storms like this weren't all that common in Texas, so when they arrived at the scene it was no surprise they didn’t have any of the right equipment. But the kid needed saving and they were going to do it. One way or another.

A couple had seen the young girl, only moments ago, fall through the ice. They didn’t know who she was. Just that she had been playing hockey on the frozen lake one moment then the next, she was gone, the ice having cracked underneath her.

Really, it was a coincidence that they had been in the right place at the right time.

For everyone involved. 

The elderly couple who had called it in was sitting in the back of the ambulance, in shock. What they had witnessed was horrific, it was something that nobody should ever have to see.

There was very little time to debate, each minute passing by was one less minute they had to save the kid.

In the end, it had been Jemma’s idea to do it that way. Using the equipment they had. 

It was a stupid idea.

It was a risky idea.

It was the only idea that they had.

Bobbi found herself unable to breathe as she stood watching Jemma make her way slowly across the ice. Inching forward bit by bit on her stomach towards where the kid had fallen in.

Where the ice had frozen over again.

She didn't even have a pick to smash the ice. Just a scalpel.

It was the best they could do in the situation, they were even using bedsheets as a line. With the weather throwing everything it had at them, both Trip and Bobbi found it difficult to keep their footing. But they had to.

For Jemma.

If something went wrong, then they would be her only hope.

But at the moment, a ll they could do hope was that the ice that had refroze wasn't as thick - that it could be broken with nothing more than a small piece of metal.

"C'mon," Bobbi whispered, her words lost to the wind that was starting to whip up. "C'mon Simmons."

She was now nearly at the point of entry, calling back something to them but it was no use they couldn't hear what she was saying. The wind had whipped her words away. They could see her hitting the ice, trying to break through.

And it was at that moment the ice cracked and she went under, the sudden tug on the bedsheets almost pulling Bobbi over. 

The two of them just stared in shock at each other, unsure of what to do next.

It was Trip who made the first move, shouting out Jemma’s name. Behind him, Bobbi could hear the elderly woman from earlier once again on the phone to 9-1-1 calling for backup, calling for more help. This was a bad situation.

This was a very bad situation.

They could both feel tugging on the line, a weight pulling against it as Jemma fought to save herself. To save the kid.

And they were all helpless unable to do anything.

It felt like hours but then the surface broke. Somehow, against all odds, Jemma had somehow saved the kid.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Trip took a step forward toward the lake but then hesitated.

“Don’t!” Jemma shouted. “It’s too dangerous. Pull us in.” With some difficulty, she managed to get the two of them back up onto the ice, lying flat. Even from this distance, they could tell that she was exhausted, her chest heaving. It was clear that going under had taken what energy she had from her. The cold robbed her of it.

With the utmost care and caution, they managed to pull the two of them to safety and Bobbi lifted the kid (somehow thankfully alive), taking her to the other crew that was pulling up by this point, the elderly couple retreating to a safe distance so they would not get in the way of anything or anyone.

Trip’s attention meanwhile was focused on Jemma. He offered her a helping hand, allowing her to stand and free herself. Shrugging off his jacket, not carrying about how cold it was getting, he wrapped it around her shoulders in an attempt to try and warm her up.

“Thank you.” Her voice was low, her hair hanging damp around her face. She was drenched in the ice water but her lips tugged up into a small smile. In the distance, she could see the kid, crying out for her mum before the doors slammed closed. A good sign. Trip wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in close as they watched the other ambulance drive away.

A soft laugh escaped from Trip as he helped to guide her away from the ice. “Just don’t tell Lance what we let you do today. Your brother would kill us if we knew what had happened.” 

But she wasn’t paying attention anymore to what he was saying to her, and even when Bobbi came back and joined them, she kept her distance. Everything that had just happened, it seemed to hit her all at once. 

She was exhausted. Her focus was a million miles away at this point and everything seemed to be slower, less in focus. It was hard to concentrate and with what her teammates were saying… well it was best to stay back when she couldn’t understand.

And she was cold. She was so very very cold.

***

“Where’s Jemma?” Bobbi squinted as she looked around. Snow was falling heavier now, and the temperature was dropping rapidly.

Trip felt his heart skip a beat. Because this was bad. This was very very bad. “We need to find her.”

Following the footprints in the ground, they tried to find where she had wandered off to. Bobbi was silently cursing herself for this, they should have noticed it earlier. She was meeting all the classic symptoms of hypothermia.

Shivering.

Confusion.

Exhaustion.

And the longer they waited to get her help, to get her medical attention, then the less chance that she had of surviving this.

It must have been less than ten minutes later that they found her, curled up on the ground. Her uniform had been stripped off and abandoned and she was lying there freezing in nothing but a vest and a pair of shorts. Her lips had a tinge of blue to them.

Paradoxical undressing.

Her blood was rushing to her extremities, causing her to overheat.

It also meant that she was moments away from death.

“Jemma,” Trip said, keeping his voice calm. “What happened?” Firm but gentle for he didn’t want to spook her. He needed to be careful, to get her to trust him so that he could get her to safety.

The next moments would prove crucial.

Would be the difference between life and death.

Hearing Bobbi on the phone, calling it in only feet behind him, he knelt on the ground in front of her. Reaching over, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She looked over at him but her eyes were glazed over.

"Jemma?"

There was no response from her. Nothing at all.

She honestly had no idea where she was.

He didn’t even know if she knew who she was.

“We need to get her to the hospital now,” Bobbi said and Trip was not going to argue with her.

***

“Where’s Jemma?” he asked as he came round the corner into the small waiting area of the hospital. “You said she wanted me?”

Bobbi cast a nervous glance at Daisy who was shaking her head and was on her feet to meet Fitz. “I… It wasn’t Jemma that wanted you here Fitz, it was… it was me.”

Fitz stared at Daisy, unable to believe her. “What do you mean Jemma never asked you to call me? Have you not tried to meddle in our relationship enough?”

It took several moments for Daisy to find the words to describe this situation. It was hard. Because she knew-everyone knew- that Jemma and Fitz had broken up 3 months ago now, that the whole situation had been somewhat messy. But what they didn’t know was the why .

Why had the two of them ended a relationship everyone could have sworn would have lasted forever was something that nobody had worked out yet.

One day things had been fine, then the next Jemma had moved out of Fitz’s apartment and back into Hunter’s house and refused to even speak about him. 

She refused to talk to anyone about what had happened, something that was worrying most of the team. She seemed to have it together but Hunter had doubts. He had tried to ask his younger sister what was going on, what had happened during that period but Jemma refused to tell him.

“Something happened today when we were out on a call,” Daisy began but there was no chance to finish. 

“I’m sorry to interpret but are you the paramedics that helped to save my daughter?” It was a small voice, somewhat shaken.

In perfect sync, Daisy and Fitz turned to face the woman and it took a moment for Daisy to work out who it was.

“That… that wasn’t me. Not really. That was Jemma who saved her. I wasn’t there.” There was something in Daisy’s tone that Fitz couldn't pinpoint. Something he didn't like and it made him uncomfortable. 

The woman nodded and reached out to take Daisy’s hands in her own in a kind and reassuring way. “Tell your friend that I said thank you. Thank you for saving my daughter.”

“Is she? Is she going to be okay?” Daisy was scared to ask the question but the woman nodded.

“She is. And I just wanted to let you know that I and my husband are all praying for your friend.”

“Thank you,” Daisy told the mother, who gave Daisy’s hands a reassuring squeeze. And with that, the mother turned to head back to her daughter’s room.

“Daisy,” Fitz began, his tone dropping from confusion to concern. “What is going in here?”

“It was…” Daisy took his arm gently and started to guide him through the hospital corridor. “It was an ice rescue and things took a turn for the worse.” She paused for a moment, her voice breaking. “It’s not good Fitz.”

It took a moment for him to process what was happening but then he realized what was going on and why Daisy had told him that he needed to come here.

That something had gone wrong today.

Something had gone awfully wrong.

Then he saw her.

Jemma.

Lying there in a hospital bed, tubes and wires coming out of her.

[unholyhelbig]

More firecrest pls & thank u

Title: Firecrest (Part 5/7)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: More bad parenting, Needles, shootings (guns and mention of death), discrimination, Politics (vaguely), and horrible grammar because we all know I don't proofread.

[A/n: Woo, okay, have finally gotten my bearings on a chapter count. Two more to go folks and then all of my attention will be focused on Fright Night!]

The bourbon burned uncomfortably when you swallowed it down in two gulps. The warmth swirled in your stomach and instantly went to your head. It was a dizzy feeling, one that replaced the despair that had settled in your bones. The oaky taste was appealing enough for you to tap the edge of the glass to signal for another.

The Rusty Nail was the definition of ‘dive-bar’, with its smoke-yellowed walls and torn booth seats that frothed with foam. The bartender had a stained towel over his shoulder and replaced the beer that was in front of a man at the other end of the bar, wordlessly.

A box television that had to be from at least the early 90’s was mounted on the corner of the wall. The news played through the speakers with a cracking static. There was roadwork in the majority of Brooklyn, and coat drives taking place at every middle school in the district.

What caught your hazy attention was a photo of Lance. His smile was intoxicating to the general public, and the graph that populated next to him with winning numbers confirmed this fact. He was pulling ahead astonishingly, and even through your misery, you felt a swell of pride.

“Get a load of that guy,” The bartender hissed under his breath.

“Not a fan?”

You’d heard everything under the sun about your step-father, pointedly ignoring the negative opinions in favor for the man that cooked fantastic blueberry pancakes. His campaign relied on dissolving what remained of the Sokovia accords, and removing the restrictions that were put on Inhumans.

For you, it was easy. While a deep and dark fire brewed within you, you still looked relatively normal. Of course, you went through your teenage phases of turmoil, just like everyone else. But, there were people out there who weren’t so lucky; Inhumans that were plagued with spikes covering their entire bodies, translucent skin that displayed the entirety of their innerworkings, or the rocks that engulfed you once, never falling away at all.

Still, with the small Inhuman marking on the edge of your license, it took three times as long to get through airport security, and renting an apartment hadn’t even been a possibility without your mother co-signing. The world still feared Inhumans, just as they feared the changes that came along with them.

It had been changing for years, and Lance wanted to push things just a little further. You held out hope, but immense love for the man who had helped raised you. Though, not everyone felt the same way. A good portion of citizens opposed the man with the golden smile and kind eyes because of his stance on Inhumans.

“He’s pretty don’t get me wrong. But his stance on those… freaks? Those accords are the only thing keeping our streets safe.”

“Oh?”

“You disagree?”

You took a tentative sip of your drink. You were bone-tired and not much into political talk. It was the middle of the night, and you had just felt the adhesive of your ‘fake-dating-band-aid” get ripped from your skin. It left a stinging discomfort behind.

You shrugged “I don’t think they’re hurting anyone.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes and scoffed. He took your empty glass and didn’t offer to refill it. He probably thought you were drunk, and while you were a little tipsy at best, your position on what you were, what so many people around you hid, stayed the same. It worried you, the target that Lance had on his back because of this.

“What about that shooting?”

“The one committed by a human?

This silenced him, though he wore his frown on his sleeve. It had been so quick, blasted all over the news. A father of a teenager had walked into the pizza place where his son worked and opened fire. He’d found out earlier in the day, that his son was an Inhuman, exposed to the same chemicals you were. Three people died, including the shooter, but it was spun in a way that was unforgiveable.

You held you tongue, instead, throwing your money on the counter. You’d come here to get away from the chaos of your own mind. It had dulled the anxieties to an extent, but what was taken away was soon replaced with annoyance.

Your apartment was, of course, empty upon your return. Keys were set on the end table by the door and you flicked on the nearest light so you could avoid the furniture that you thought about moving every single day. It was lonely here. Cold in a way that went beyond a thermostat.

Sleeping was well out of the question, so you skimmed the bookshelf placed on the far side of the room and grabbed the piece of literature that was most appealing. You saw no point in keeping books that didn’t pull you in within the first hundred pages, but there was a staple few that you kept no matter what.

You’d picked up a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You thumbed through the pages, letting it fan the sharp sourness of old paper. The last time you’d read it, you only made it halfway through, and the makeshift bookmark that fell out landed on your lap.

You abandoned the book as quickly as you picked it up in favor for the page marker. It was an old, folded photo. As if pouring salt into the wound, it was one of the only known photos of you and Kate together. Her smile beamed at the camera, one arm around your shoulder and the other holding up the middle finger. 

The two of you were standing on the docks at rented cabin that your families shared. Usually, you didn’t run into the Bishops, but one fateful year, your leisure time had aligned. Eleanor wanted to take a nice photo. You never knew if it was for the masses, or for her own pleasure, but Kate ruined every single shot with her shit-eating grin and obscene gestures.

It had been creased right down the middle, a sloppy split in the glossed parchment. A tear had dripped from your chin and landed on the edge, your throat suddenly tight. You didn’t bother wiping them away, or picking up the discarded copy of Pride and Prejudice when it hit the carpet with an undignified thump.

You were sobbing by the time you decided to fold the photo back up. That was as far as you had gotten, really. Slumped back in a worn loveseat and letting the tears that had been building all day well-up and soak your collar. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and your chest ached fiercely.

It angered you, that all of this was about Kate Bishop, of all people.

It should be Clint that brought on the wealth of emotions. And in a way, it was. It had always been. The archer had discarded you as a young child, and you supposed you should be thankful for that. You were privileged, especially compared to the poor boy in the pizza shop. But the scars still lingered horribly.

You landed softly, and most of that had been because of Kate. The anger and distress that came with the situation was always dampened by her stormy eyes and her pension for doing good. It rebelled against the Bishop protocol and after a long while, you realized she was different. Kinder. Clumsier. More dedicated.

She knew what she wanted, just as well as she knew what you needed. In moments of anger, she’d distract you with her innate ability to drive you crazy with competition. In panic, she had a softer touch that soothed you into extinguishing volatile flames.

Sleeping with her had been a bad idea. You knew if from the start, but preened at her deeper attention, at the way her hands felt against you, breath fanning warmly across your cheeks and then your chest. For her, you were a release. For you, she was everything.

You were in love, with Kate, mother fucking, Bishop.

It weighed your shoulders down, labored your breathing. But strangely, you felt no flames. The warmth that usually accompanied strong emotions such as these wasn’t there. For the first time, in a long time, you succumbed to sadness. Just sadness.

The cobalt of Kate’s dress illuminated the blue ringlets in her iris’s. They caught the light of the chandelier in the lobby. They were crystal, hanging low but secured tightly to the ceiling. Almost as tight as the dress that Kate wore.

You were clad in a tailored suit, loosely buttoned black fabric a lace corset that matched the cobalt of Kate’s cocktail dress. She’d sent you the color combination in a single word text. Blue. And you’d followed her instructions perfectly, matching her wavelength like always.

For extra measure, you put on a dainty stainless steel arrow necklace. It showed commitment, it was just short of showing your misery. Kate’s eyes canned from your toes to your own stare and you barely suppressed the shivers that came with her scrutiny.

She figured it would be better to face this on a united front and arrive together. She let out a quiet huff of indignance and folded her arm enough for you to loop your own through it. Her warmth, her comfort, no matter how scarce, was overwhelming and threatened to bring back the tears.

That wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about having a united front, about being endlessly in love to make your parents uncomfortable. You weren’t quite sure what Kate was getting out of this and she wasn’t about to tell you either.

The elevator ride up was uncomfortable. She’d never been this quiet for this long before.

“Kate,”

“No.” She clenched her jaw, voice a low whisper despite it only being the two of you and the slowly climbing lift. “For once, y/n, don’t say a word.”

Your eyes met hers in the reflective paneling and you gave her a small nod. The silence had suddenly become heavier, deeper. Your hand curled up in your jacket pocket before you diverted your gaze. The only mercy was the elevator reaching the penthouse, a muffled ‘ding’ proceeding the doors sliding open to her foyer.

The archer had pulled her shoulders back and had a soft smile on her face. There was a sadness behind her eyes that anyone else would have to dig for, but you could see it from a mile away. She was hurting as much as you were but wasn’t going to show it.

You did just the same, working the tension from your features as the scent of lamb coated your lungs and made your stomach clench. You’d always hated the dish, but it was a staple of the Bishop family chef so you powered through it every time.

She smoothed her hand over your jacket sleeve as the two of you stepped out of the elevator. It almost scared you how perfectly she fit into this role. It was the flip of a switch. You were uncomfortable with the thought of it being in your favor. You couldn’t feel the love behind her gestures, because they were just that. Gestures.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.” You replied.

The mechanical whir of the elevator had attracted the attention of those who had already arrived. You’d been in Kate’s house once or twice, enough to count on only one hand. But, you knew the layout fairly well. Her apartment was open concept, and this had a million intersecting walls and corridors.

The two of you passed the dining room and entered something you could only describe as a sitting room, maybe a study with the large oak bookshelves, dusty and untouched. The walls were a Spanish moss green and the hardwood covered by an oriental rug.

Eleanor wore a blood red dress, and Jack had a matching silk pocket square. Clint was the only one that stood out among all of you. He wore a nice dress shirt that was tucked into black pants, he looked cleanly pressed and perfect for a Bishop dinner party.

He held a glass of whiskey, and Jack was pouring one more. He gave you a beaming, and wholly innocent smile, his mustache lifting at the sides. “Miss Morse! Katie!”

You felt Kate stiffen next to you at the name, her jaw clenching. Instinctively, your hand covered hers, thumb ghosting over the scarring on her knuckles. Her shoulders seemed to lower, and that breath smelled of the familiar wintergreen.

“Darling,” Eleanor moved forward and placed phantom kisses against both of Kate’s cheeks before moving to do the same with you. “Let me get a good look at you both.”

“Mom, you’ve seen us before.”

“Not like this. It’s different. Before it was just rumors, and speculation. Annoying, isn’t it? But now, we can spin this anyway we want to.”

Kate gave her mother a tight smile. “We’re not a press opportunity”

“Not so easy to say when you’ve already been all the press can talk about.” She shrugged and took the glass from Jacks hand. “You know, at first, I thought this was horrible. But people seem to like you both.”

There was something on the tip of her tongue that wanted to escape. A God Know’s why or a couldn’t be me. But she said neither and an uncomfortable silence fell over you all. Kate subconsciously tightened her fingers against your arm once more, and the pressure was nearly soothing.

Your eyes met Clint’s across the room, and you got hit with the familiar feeling of your world tilting in a nauseating way. He offered up a small smile, the only one he could muster within these last few chaotic weeks.

He waved at Kate, not enthusiastically, a neutral and awkward expression of affection. Kate let out a long breath, retracting her arm and similarly placing her hand on the small of your back. She needed a grounding technique, just as much as you did.

Eleanor sensed the tension and announced that it was time for dinner. The scent of the lamb came rolling back in crashing waves. Upon entering the dining room, you were positive that the woman hadn’t cooked this meal herself.

A linin table cloth was punctuated with candles, bathing the room in a dull yellow light. There were different platters piled with dripping meat, and steaming mashed potatoes. Glasses of red wine rested next to the salads situated on gold plating.

Fire crackled within the large stone hearth that you’d never seen lit. It seemed almost directed, sitting in front of the warm, smoldering flames. Across from you was Eleanor and Jack, Clint right in between them. Jack seemed particularly fond of the man, similarly entrapped by his accomplishments as the rest of the world.

“Everyone, dig in” Eleanor prompted “No need to be so formal.”

“Right,” Kate cleared her throat, picking up fork and chasing a cherry tomato with the prongs. “How is everyone?”

You winced at the pathetic attempt at small talk, staring down at your own wilted greens. It was a valiant effort that was promptly ignored by everyone else at the table.

“Y/n, why don’t you tell us more about yourself?” Eleanor asked.

Kate gave you a look that intimately read as you don’t have to entertain her. “You know all about Y/n. We grew up together.”

“From fifth grade onward. I remember when your mom enrolled you. You kept deliberately ripping your uniform until she agreed to pants. Same thing happened with Katherine. But now that you and my daughter are involved, I’d like to know more.”

She took a sip of her wine, and your fingers brushed over the glass base of your own glass. But you didn’t pick it up. You’d decided last night, sometime between showering off the scum of the dive-bar and propping a window in your apartment to get some fresh air, that you needed a clear head for something like this.

You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, what would you like to know?”

“Where you grew up!” Jack cut in fantastically, talking around a mouth full of vegetation, waving his fork around like a madman “Your favorite color, if you have any pets!”

Your stare flicked to Clint, but he was staring down at his untouched food. He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions and the stinging bile that threatened to push past your lips was instantly swallowed back down in favor of your dignity.

“I moved around a lot as a kid, my mom traveled for work a lot so we were never in one place for too long. Amsterdam, Delhi, Perth. The best place though, was a small desert town in Arizona. There weren’t many people there and it could get to about a hundred degrees by the time the sun was at it’s highest point. But it was peaceful, and beautiful.”

Clint was watching you carefully now. He’d been there too. It was one of the last places you’d traveled together as a family. There was a small strip of old wooden structures that reminded you of the wild west, cutting through the orange of the desert. Murals were painted against the rocky structures, writhing snakes, swallowing the sun, and fire shimmering over it’s scales.

It was captivating during the day, but even better at night. It was the clearest you had ever seen the stars. Blankets of twinkling constellations and milky ways that you’d never seen before. Your neck started to ache from staring up at it for so long, and it was Clint who had laid a blanket in the bed of his truck and laid next to you to view them.

He’d taught you about the different formations, and of course, his favorite, the Sagittarius. An archer that sacrificed his own mortality for the sake of his sons. It seemed ironic now. But then, it had made you feel like the most important girl in the world.

“A dusty old desert town over the streets of Amsterdam?” Eleanor seemed to find amusement in this, piercing a slice of carrot with the prongs of her fork. It gave a satisfying snap. “Interesting.”

“It was peaceful” You shrugged, finally giving in and taking a warm sip of wine. “The last time we were together as a family.”

“Is that right?”

Eleanor was enjoying herself too much and Kate’s hand nervously went to the charm around her own neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, trying to be respectful. Trying not to let your eyes wander during an irreparable time.

She looked best in gold and knew that from a young age. The chain was dainty, and the pendant was a whisp of a flame. It made your mouth go dry and you wondered if it was a conscious decision, just like the one you had made to grab the only necklace with an arrow.

“I remember that place.” Clint spoke up for the first time. “It was called Chloride. Weird name for a town.”

You were too transfixed on Kate’s fingers running over the curvature of the necklace to care. Her cheeks took on a red tint in the glow of the candles. She removed her hand and found yours on top of the table. It was damp, but a solid force.

“You were afraid of scorpions in your shoes and made me and your mom check and double check them before you even thought of putting them on. You usually went barefoot, which was more dangerous than just wearing the shoes.”

“Is this your idea of an olive branch?”

The words left your mouth without thinking, and they were pumped with venom. You couldn’t help it. Your stomach was already rolling unsteadily and his words, though soaked with kindness, were far from merited. Kate’s mother sat back with an almost giddy look on her face. She’d been expecting this.

Kate tightened her grip inadvertently, and you could feel the small sting of her nails carving crescents into your palm. You wholly expected her gaze to be narrowed at you, but it was transfixed on Clint. There was a hardness there that she had harbored for you earlier in the week.

You let out a strangled breath and stared down at your salad. It wasn’t worth it. None of this felt worth it. In a strange way, you were absolutely defeated, and the wilted lettuce was much more interesting than satisfying Eleanor Bishop’s sick need for chaos.

“No. of course not.” His expression betrayed a sadness that pulled uncomfortably at your chest. “Just a memory, is all.”

“Do you know what I remember?”

Kate rumbled softly, a noise that was every bit the warning to you. Let it go. She worried incessantly about the fire under your fingertips. Possibly more than yourself in moments like these. But there was no itching beneath your skin. For once, it was just a storm of sorrow. Sweat was forming on your brow and Kate’s grip shifted to your wrist, finger pressed plainly to your pulse.

“The look in your eyes when you walked away. I was just a kid, but that was the first time I ever learned about betrayal. For months, Clint, months I would sit by the window and wait for you to come back. It didn’t matter where we were, what country, what city, I would wait. I was certain that you would find us and we could be a family again.”

He clenched his knife and fork on either side of his plate, his knuckles turning a sickly type of white that nearly echoed yellow, his whisper was broken. “I’m… sorry. I understand that you need someone to blame, kid.”

“Blame?” You let out a dry laugh, standing with enough force to push the chair back with a strangled screech. “You think this is about blame? That’s a simple emotion to work through. This is about which one of you was willing to stick around when things got hard, and which one of you ran to a new family.”

The silence was deafening. Eleanor lifted her wine glass and hid her vicious smirk behind the seductive red liquid. Jack had directed his tender stare to Kate, no-doubt deciding then and there to be a good stepfather for more than a few moments at a time.

You sucked in a heavy breath before shaking your head and leaving the room. It wasn’t difficult to navigate the Bishop penthouse, with it’s dark open-concept layout. You needed air. It was much too hot in the dining room and you’d begun to sweat through your layers of clothing.

The balcony connected to the family room lacked decoration. It was a stone ledge that caught the cold drafts of high winds, drying the sweat against your skin instantly. You swallowed enough frigid air to burn your throat, but the tears refused to come. You couldn’t cry anymore.

Your head hung over the edge of the balcony, a strange dizziness washing over you as you stared down at the passing traffic, hundreds of unblinking eyes that lit up the night. You wish you had the foresight to grab the glass of wine, or something stronger from Jacks secret stash.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time you heard the sliding glass door open. You didn’t bother turning around. Not with the subtle evergreen scent. “Tell Eleanor I’m sorry for ruining dinner.”

“Ruining?” Kate chuckled softly. Warmth engulfed you as she draped a blanket over your shoulders. You grasped the frayed edges out of habit and tugged it closely around you. “She lives for the drama of it all. She expected this, I think you’ve actually made her year.”

She leaned against the balcony, letting her hands hang over the edge. She looked ethereal in the moonlight, pale and beautiful. The tell-tale anger that had been etched into her features earlier was surrendered. You caught the glint of her bracelet and nervously brought your own hand up to the cool arrow charm that rested against your collarbone.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Waiting for someone to apologize?”

The corner of your lips lifted into a smile. “Very subtle, Katie.”

“I’m giving you an opening here.”

You sighed heavily and turned just enough to get a better look at her. She always knocked the breath out of you in an almost cruel way. Her eyes held a tenderness that was unmatched. She was patient with you, just like she had always been.

“This entire time, I’ve been chasing after an apology from Clint., one that he’s too proud to give. It’s easy to be consumed by something like that, but that’s no excuse to hurt you in the process.” You swallowed heavily, trying to curb the dryness in your throat.

You couldn’t look at her. The mere sight of the curve of her jaw, the softness of her demeanor despite her deep seeded anger, would be too much. Kate effectively knocked you off your feet every single time she spared you a glance. If you were going to get this out in the open, you’d much rather stare at the traffic below.

 “Katie, I can’t begin to describe how much you mean to me. We’ve always had this unspoken rivalry and for the longest time I couldn’t figure it out. Why couldn’t we both just be good at the same things without vying against one another?”  

You let out a wounded sigh, fingers digging into the stone balcony. “I never understood why I wanted to beat you so badly, and I don’t know where along the way that changed. But I’ve realized recently that it was never about beating you. It was about making you proud.”

Her breath had caught, a subtle noise that you noticed due to proximity. Her hand was atop yours, much like it was at dinner, somehow warmer than your own. She didn’t say anything, and you didn’t lift your gaze to meet hers. Your cheeks were enflamed with blush that you could blame on the two sips of wine you had.

“Deep down, I’ve always known that I’ve been in love with you since that first kiss at archery camp. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I was doing more damage hiding it from you than putting it out there. You have to understand, Katie, I never meant to hurt you the other day. I’m just so used to burying it down, to keeping my emotions stifled for the greater good, that I didn’t know what to say… how to say it.”

She was rendered speechless herself and you could feel your vision start to blur at the edges, the lights from lines of city traffic suddenly fuzzy. You were never a fan of heights, but the sudden sloppy confession was much more daunting than the prospect of falling thirty stories.

“Oh,” Kate rasped.

You clenched your eyes shut until you saw stars. She’d never been a girl of little words, and you felt your heart rate increase. It pounded listlessly, preparing for rejection that you knew typically followed her silence.

None of that came, however, instead was the slightest pinprick against the side of your neck. You would have figured it nothing more than a mosquito if the weather hadn’t taken an icy turn. But this was different, this alerted your senses in one fail swoop.

Your eyes snapped open and narrowed at Kate in time to register the emptying of the syringe she’d pushed past your skin. A sickly green liquid that already stung terribly as it started to pulse through your veins.

“A lovely sentiment, I’m sure.” She pouted in a mocking way, lilting her head to the side as she pulled the needle from the side of your neck. Your fingers pressed against the area to quell the foreign sensation.

You were suddenly incredibly dizzy, the pulsing of your vision matching with the frantic beating of your heart. You were losing strength quickly, clinging to the stone balcony for some type of solace. You fell all the same, collapsed at its corner with quick breaths of panic.

Kate was suddenly crouched in front of you. She lifted your chin until you could stare into her eyes. They were cold, emotionless. “Maybe one day, you’ll be able to tell her.”

Her thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. It was so familiar, yet incredibly foreign. Your thoughts were muddled, non-existent as the heavy sensation took over. She seemed to revel in your confusion, in the pain that she’d so easily inflicted.

Kate’s disconnected stare was the last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you whole in an odd type of comfort, the world ceased to flicker, like the edges of a flame.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16

[skyler10fic]

To Have and to Hold: Ch. 3 Taste of Success

By Skyler10

Read on Ao3

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

Daisy had a slow week at work and was able to launch a simple wedding website by the following weekend. One page included their story, ending with their coincidentally mutual Christmas proposal. She uploaded photos of the two of them at various stages of their relationship and one of their rings. Daisy remembered with a start that they hadn’t taken engagement photos. Oh well, that shoot could come later even if they just had a friend take a few on a nice day. On the location page, she added a few photos of the chapel she had taken on their visit and typed its address. The registry page would have to stay blank for the moment. Eventually, she’d make a digital RSVP option as well, but before they could decide on and send invitations, they needed to decide on a caterer to know if there was a meal option—and whether they wanted a meal at all or just hors d’oeuvres. 

There were still so many decisions to make. Late one night as she stressed about their long to-do list, Carol reminded her that not every conversation they had at the end of the day had to be wedding choices and researching their options. They needed to also just relax together and talk about other things. Carol had said it gently, trying to avoid a fight, but Daisy surprised her by being relieved at the reminder. They had time. Not much for some things, but enough to still live their lives outside of planning and decision-making.  

They decided to keep the wedding itself small, and the wedding party even smaller. Carol’s lifelong best friend, Maria, would be her bridesmaid with her young daughter, Monica, as flower girl. Daisy’s bridesmaid would be Jemma, with her husband, Fitz, on piano and Elena on violin playing, ���She Keeps Me Warm” by Mary Lambert.

“But just the two instruments,” Daisy clarified. “No karaoke track cheese, please.” Which Fitz teased her relentlessly about, especially saying that he was going to program a drum kit. Daisy reminded him she had earned her black belt before graduating high school, and that put an end to the teasing… for a while. 

The question of who would walk them down the aisle came up during a video call with Daisy’s parents, during which Phil offered both arms if they wanted to walk down together, but Carol reassured him that her Aunt Wendy would do it. Melinda would walk down first, escorting her parents to their seats, then Wendy and Carol, and then Phil and Daisy. 

Elena’s husband, Mack, was ordained as a minister in their small, progressive church, so he volunteered to officiate. And Elena would help their adorable toddler son, Alfie Jr., in his ringbearer duties. 

That left the people they would need to hire, including catering for the reception, a bakery for the cake, and a photographer. 

—----------

The second Saturday in March, they had a cake tasting at a small but renowned bakery across town. Daisy shoved her laptop into her bag as Carol pulled the car into the bakery’s parking lot.

“Okay, we only have one shot if this is the one we go with, so we have to each pick our top three possibilities, not just what sounds good today,” Daisy said like she was a coach at timeout. 

They got out of the car and walked up to the bakery, but before they went inside, Carol pulled Daisy to the side of the door.

“Hey, let’s enjoy this okay?” She took Daisy’s hand. “It’s a cake tasting! Possibly the most fun part of wedding planning. Just breathe with me, okay?”

Daisy took in deep breaths, as instructed. “Right. You’re right. It’s just cake.” She turned and saw a sample wedding cake in the window with two grooms. “Oh thank god.” 

Carol noticed too. “Is that what you were really stressed about?” 

“Well!” Daisy shrugged. “It’s been in the news for years with the courts and stuff, I just, I don’t know, didn’t want to get yelled at when they realize I’m not your bridesmaid or something.” 

Carol squeezed Daisy’s hand. “I promise. I made sure every bakery I called knew this wedding cake is going to have two little brides on it and they were fine.” She gestured to the two-groom cake on display. “Can we go try sample bites of cake now?” 

“Yes, please,” Daisy said in a bashful voice. Carol opened the door and they went in, determined to enjoy the moment. 

And they did, for the most part. A few of the flavors were not to their taste.

“Hm.” Daisy scrunched her nose. “Not that one, sorry.”

Carol’s eyes widened as she put a different flavor in her mouth. “Ooo! This one.” She pointed with her fork and then had a different idea. “Here.” She put a bite on her fork and lifted it to feed it to Daisy. Daisy helped guide Carol’s hand so they didn’t make a mess. 

“Oh! Wow. Yes.” Daisy reacted once she’d had a moment to taste it. “That might be the one?” 

Carol gave her an “I told you so” look. “I think I could eat that every day and not get tired of it.”   

The baker, a middle-aged man with twinkling dark eyes, returned just in time to see their impressed reaction. He clapped his hands once and inquired, “How are we doing over here, ladies? Have we found a winner?” 

Carol and Daisy exchanged glances and both said, “Yes” at once. 

“What is this one?” Daisy asked. 

“Ah, that flavor is called Happy Ever After. It’s a vanilla with a hint of raspberry and almond and my secret ingredient.” 

Carol took this as a challenge. She leaned her elbows on the counter and narrowed her eyes. “Hmm, butter?”  

The baker laughed and winked. “That’s no secret. Plenty of real butter here. And our traditional recipe buttercream, also with a special ingredient, of course.” 

Carol couldn’t tell whether there really was a secret to the buttercream or if he was just teasing her, so she just nodded. “Ah. Of course.”

“Now.” The baker plopped a heavy photo album on the counter. “Let’s talk design.” 

None of the designs were exactly what Daisy had been picturing so she showed him some photos on her laptop, and he flipped to a different section. In 20 minutes, they had exactly what they wanted all planned out. The baker took notes on each part, from flavor to decoration to a topper. As it turned out, the little brides cake topper would be metaphorical, as they decided on a cascade of flowers wrapping from the top down around the sides of the three small tiers and to the base. 

“And what are your colors?” the baker asked, writing and sketching on his notes. When they hesitated, he looked up. 

Daisy blurted out, “Lavender, silver, navy, and gold.” She looked to Carol for approval. 

“Yeah!” Carol blinked in awe at how easy that was. “That was the palette I picked, though. Are you sure?”  

The baker turned his sketch around so they could imagine the colors on it. 

“I’m sure.” Daisy placed her hand on Carol’s on the counter to assure her it really was what she wanted too. “It’s us.” 

“Excellent,” the baker hummed, more to his notes than to them, lost in his artistic visions. 

And so that was two decisions down, with a million more to go. 

As Daisy and Carol left the bakery, Daisy’s phone rang. 

“Hey, is this Daisy Coulson?” a young woman’s voice asked. 

“That’s me,” Daisy answered as she got in the car and closed the door. “How can I help you?” 

Carol waited to start the car until Daisy could tell her what was happening. Daisy noticed and put the call on speaker.  

“This is Nadia, from Delights Catering. I know this is super last minute, and I told you before that we didn’t have any tasting spots open today, but, um, we’ve had an opening.” 

Daisy picked up on her stress. “Rough day?” 

Nadia admitted, “Not as rough for me as for the couple whose whole wedding party got the flu last night and just now called to cancel. But their order of nearly everything on the menu is almost done, and it might as well be used. We’ll have everything ready if you can be here in the next half hour. And bring family or your wedding party if you want. We’re prepped for 100 over here. And I’ve only got five other couples left on my list to call.” 

Daisy raised her eyebrows in silent question to Carol who nodded enthusiastically. It was past lunchtime and they were getting hungry. Those little cake samples hadn’t been filling. 

“Sure thing, Nadia. We’ll be right over.” Daisy programmed the address of the convention center the catering company operated out of into Carol’s phone and used her own to send a group text to the wedding party, at least their friends in town. Phil and Melinda were too far away, but she sent them a separate text updating them on the cake and colors decision and telling them they were headed over to the caterer. 

Melinda sent back a thumbs up, a sunglasses smiley face, and a cake emoji. Phil sent a gif that said Great Work! and said to let them know how the menu tasting went. 

Carol neared the exit and realized they hadn’t ever decided on what time of day the wedding would be exactly, which would determine what food they decided on from Delights Catering’s menu. 

“We have the venue all day,” Carol reasoned, “so it would be up to us.” 

“What if…” Daisy hesitated to say it, as unromantic as it was. “What if we see what Nadia has on the menu and pricing, and that determines the timing?” 

“Okay, besides food though, when are you picturing this? Evening ceremony with dinner and a reception where we dance into the night? Or more like early afternoon so we can see the park around the chapel with an outdoor reception? I could go either way.” 

“Before I answer that, here’s another factor.” Daisy paused to point to the side street Carol needed to turn down. “Do we want to leave for our honeymoon that night or spend our wedding night at home and then leave the next day? And also, where are we going?” 

“Or, we could stay downtown in a fancy hotel honeymoon suite, so we wouldn’t be far from the airport, and then leave the next day. To wherever.” 

“Yes! Oh. I like that.” Daisy added “find honeymoon suite and destination” to her to-do list. 

Nadia’s cooking and her team’s friendly service didn’t make the decision easy. The basic dinner menu, especially for a small wedding with their approximate guest list number, was definitively in their budget, and the hors d’oeuvres were also delicious. 

“Okay, this lemon pepper chicken, though,” Daisy said to the table, but mostly Carol. 

“And this pasta is amazing.” Carol picked up the menu to see what it was called. “Pasta Barbara.” 

A blonde woman at the table observed them with an amused smile. 

Daisy noticed and caught her eye. “Is it that obvious we are new to this?” 

“No, no,” the woman assured. “It’s just a new menu item inspired by an idea I had. I’m Barbara. Or, well, everyone calls me Bobbi.” 

Carol and Daisy introduced themselves as well. 

The man next to Bobbi spoke up with an English accent. “And you can call me Hunter.”

Carol finished her pasta and put down her fork. “Are you two getting married soon?” 

Bobbi and Hunter laughed. Bobbi explained, “We’ve been married.”

“And divorced,” Hunter added. 

“And married again,” Bobbi concluded. “Now we do the wedding thing professionally. We’re photographers, and I got in the decorating and floral business so I could have more input on the backgrounds and settings for the photos. The photos are what hold your memories of your day for generations to come, so I take it pretty seriously.” 

“And I carry all the equipment.” Hunter smirked. 

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “And he shoots the video. We’re a team. And are you two here to plan a wedding or just friends of Nadia’s called in to help with leftovers?”

Carol slipped an arm loosely around Daisy’s shoulder as Daisy replied, “Planning our wedding. But it’s coming up pretty quick, so we have a lot of decisions to make.” 

Carol looked to Daisy and then back at Bobbi. “We’re actually looking for everything you said you did. We’ve got this great wedding chapel through the parks department on a pond, so it’s a great setting, but the chapel itself is bare bones plain inside.” 

“And the reception hall is just a big empty room, basically,” Daisy explained.

“So,” Bobbi jumped in. “You need a photographer who could do outdoor shots in the park and indoor, and you need a decorator and florist who could handle a small wedding on a budget?” 

Hunter relaxed back in his chair, looking even cockier as Bobbi read their situation exactly. Daisy could tell that though he hid it behind bravado, he was smitten with his wife and partner. 

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.” Daisy blinked in surprise at fate landing them at this table with the very people they needed to meet. “You can do all that?” 

Hunter raised his glass to her. “That’s our specialty.” 

“Well, I contract out with florists, but I’d handle all the details.” Bobbi searched in her purse and pulled something small out. “Here’s our card.” 

She handed over a business card with their logo, website, phone, and email address. 

“Take a look, rates are all online, and we can work something out,” Hunter said.

“Thank you,” Carol replied. “This is a huge help.” 

Bobbi shrugged. “It’s why we’re here. Nadia helps us and we help her. The wedding business can be pretty cutthroat, all about the right connections, so we formed our little alliance with those we like to work with. She gets the job done right every time, and we get better photos when everyone is fed and happy.” 

Daisy hadn’t considered this, but it was smart. Bobbi’s dedication to her craft to the point that she’d expanded into other areas, formed networks, and knew something about people impressed Daisy before she’d even seen a single photo. And Daisy suspected, if Bobbi had chosen Hunter not only as her husband but business partner, he must be good at his part as well to earn that smug look on his face as he glanced around the room searching for more couples to introduce themselves to. 

Nadia made her way over to their table. “How are we doing, Daisy and Carol? I see you’ve met my friends, Bobbi and Hunter?”

“They were just telling us about their business,” Carol informed her. “Also, I have to tell you, I love this pasta.” 

“And the chicken,” Daisy reminded her. “We have to have the chicken.” 

Nadia got out her notepad. “Okay, so that’s a dinner menu then, we’ve decided?” 

Bobbi spoke up. “Definitely do dinner. Hors d’oeuvres are great, but—no offense, Nadia—it’s easy for people to get skipped over or miss out on their favorites, or they feel like they are chasing plates around if you have wandering waiters.” 

Hunter added, “And if you do a buffet, people wonder why not just do the real food.”

Nadia said, “It’s up to you two, though, and time of day I know was still a question.” 

Daisy and Carol decided together silently, and Carol said aloud, “Dinner, for sure.” 

Nadia wrote down their picks from the menu and promised to follow up on Monday more formally. She called to one of her assistants, who brought them to-go bags of leftovers to take home. It was far too much food for the two of them, so they texted Jemma and Fitz to come over for dinner that night. 

—-------- 

After dinner that night, the four friends moved to the living room and settled in front of the TV after dinner. Daisy sat on the couch near the end table with her laptop and started it up. 

“Mmm wow,” Jemma groaned, “that pasta was so good but now I’m so full.” Fitz patted her hand as he settled in next to her on the couch. 

“Right?” Carol agreed as she set up the TV so Daisy could cast her laptop screen to it. Carol plopped into their Papasan chair and set a pillow on her lap so she could write their impressions of Bobbi and Hunter’s skills on her tablet.

“Ready!” Daisy said, navigating to Bobbi and Hunter’s website. She clicked on their wedding portfolio first and opened just one slideshow of many demonstrating their talents. “Ooo, I like that one.” 

Carol took note of the poses and ideas they oohed and ahhed over, as well as ones she or Daisy didn’t like or Jemma and Fitz warned against from experience just a year before. 

Daisy clicked on more slideshows—some with more creative shots and some more cliche—and they continued until they got to one with outdoor photos, including some at sunset, with two brides. 

“Ohhh,” Daisy exhaled as she paused on one. The sunbeams highlighting the couple’s silhouette were perfect. The couple touched foreheads, with one’s fingers entwined and loosely resting on the back of the other’s neck, and the other’s hands at her bride’s waist.

“Gorgeous,” Jemma said softly. 

Daisy looked over to Carol with hope shining in her eyes. They had to have one like this. 

“Already got it,” Carol confirmed. She squinted in thought. “Sun sets around 8 in June, so if we want it as a wedding shot, we would have to time it right.” 

Jemma reasoned, “Or, remember, we did wedding photos in advance. We didn’t want to have to worry about it the day of, and I didn’t mind if he saw me in the dress ahead of time.”

“I said it was bad luck.” Fitz shrugged. 

Daisy made a pshh sound. “The rain was a sign of good luck. Plus you’re both British, aren’t rainy wedding days sort of the standard where you’re from?” 

“Yes, but see, we live here now,” Fitz pointed out.

Jemma took his hand. “Rain the day of is all the more reason I’m glad we did them in advance.” 

Carol was still distracted by the photo on the TV. If she had a shot of Daisy and her like that, she’d have a print done for their bedroom. She could already picture where to put it on their wall. 

“Moving on,” Daisy announced. “Yes, we’ll try to get some shots with Bobbi and Hunter scheduled in advance.” She added that to her to-do list, which seemed to grow every time she took something off of it. 

Jemma pointed to the screen. “So it sounds like you’re decided then. You’ve got a photographer. And all the other things, yeah?”

Daisy worried her lip. It was a multipoint commitment—and not a cheap one. She caught Carol’s hopeful, subtle nod from across the room. They were doing this. 

“Yeah,” Daisy confirmed as she clicked through to the florals and decorations pages. She had to admit, Bobbi was good. “We’re doing this.” 

Jemma elbowed Fitz, who let out a little “ow!” of surprise. 

“Tell them,” she insisted. 

“Oh, alright,” Fitz sighed. “My cousin Deke is a deejay who does wedding receptions. If you’re looking for someone.” 

Jemma jumped in. “He was the one who deejayed ours, as you might remember, but he’s very popular. He’s probably done 100 since he started a few years ago.” 

Fitz added with a tone of derision, “He wants it to be his full-time job, and he dropped out of NYU to ‘build his business.’” He did air quotes around the last part. 

“Very successfully!” Jemma defended. “Fitz is just jealous. Deke sold his virtual reality simulator to a video game company so he doesn’t really need the work, but Fitz thinks he’s wasting his potential.” 

Fitz rubbed at his neck. “He’s also very … perky.”

Jemma translated, “He’s American and a bit enthusiastic, even for over here. But exactly who you’d want in a deejay.”

Daisy and Carol exchanged amused glances. Carol spoke up, “Sure, send us his contact info and we’ll get in touch.” 

Having a baker, a caterer, a menu, and leads on a photographer/decorator and now a deejay was a lot for a full day, but it also helped them feel like it was really happening. Their wedding was not just a dream but a real event they were hiring vendors for and making decisions about—decisions that would become their lifelong memories.  

[veryace-ficrecs]

X-Men Found Family Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Scott's Life is Hard by yellow_caballero - Rated G

Scott cares a lot less about leading the X-Men then he does about getting the kids to school on time. Wrangling a mansion full of teenagers is the work of a lifetime, but Scott's not going anywhere. Sometimes love has to be enough. And somehow Scott's father of the year. In which bees are a novelty to ex-brainwashed apocalypse assasins, rotating groups of teenagers makes breakfast increasingly complicated, Magneto reads the daily newspaper, and Scott is the supreme god king dictator of 20 frightened mutant teenagers.

We Are Not Alone by WhiteravenGreywolf - Rated T

After escaping their cage, the group struggles to find their place in the world, all the while being pursued by the Essex Corporations who does not like to lose assets, even if those assets are a couple of rebellious teenagers.

When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open by versaphile - Rated M

More than anything else, David wants to believe he's not sick because that means he isn't crazy. It means he can fall in love and live happily ever after. But if he surrenders to that hope and he's wrong, then there's no coming back. The Shadow King is victorious, but the battle for David Haller’s soul has only begun. David fails to escape Division 3's intervention and is forced into therapy. With his relationships ruined, his mind split, and his past a lie, death seems like the only choice left. But Farouk is pulling the strings to keep him alive. As David's friends and family work desperately to save him, David must reclaim his past and present to avoid losing his future to the monster who destroyed him.

I'll Close My Mouth (I Won't Say a Word) by Shaderose - Rated T

"Knowing that he doesn't belong. Because he doesnt, doesn't fit into the clean, sleek environment, with his too sharp frame and his dirtied, ripped up sneakers. His old tattered clothes, and his skin riddled with scars. Imperfections. Flaws. A man of loud, harsh words and bruised knuckles, quick fingers and slick feet, in a world of softness, gentle and quiet. Of course he doesn't belong. Why would he? This isn't his home. And yet, Mrs. Kaplan, with her too warm eyes and her too gentle smile, tells him, "Welcome home," anyways. Yeesh." -- A story about friends, family, insecurities, truth and, most importantly, the true meaning of love.

A Day in the Life by SeaSpectre160 - Rated G

Amidst all the discussion and controversy over the 'mutant threat', one reporter goes to the mutants themselves to get their perspective.

(Take It) All Away by Sweetbriar15 - Rated T

Certain they would turn him away, but knowing nowhere else to go, Lance approaches the X-men for help when his team is stricken ill.

Hold my hand and float back to the summer time by caughtinanocean - Rated T

Julio and Shatterstar learn how to come home, and what you do after. “‘Star, have you ever thought about...doing something else?” “Well, there was televised combat in an arena,” Shatterstar says, “and we just led a revolution.” Julio looks at the floor underneath his socked feet. He feels sort of stupid saying this aloud. “I mean, like. Normal stuff.” “Normal stuff,” Shatterstar echoes. “Huh.”

Ringer by Crewe - Rated G

"Guess what I just did," Bobby said, ignoring him to reach around and get a finger on the side of the bowl. With a little concentration, frost spread out from the point of contact across the bowl and the ice cream inside refroze. Warren begrudgingly lowered his shoulder to give him another bite in exchange for services rendered. "What," he said flatly, elbowing Bobby until he slid off of him and onto the stool beside. "I got Scott to play a game," he said archly. "He's outside being, like, really intense about horseshoes." -- Scott starts playing horseshoes, and he just doesn't think to stop. His friends don't notice, until they do.

Lost and Found by ManicRavingsofaLunatic - Rated T

Alex rescues a kid from one of Trask's facilities; a kid that trusts him implicitly and looks to Alex for protection. The last time Alex was trusted with a such a burden he failed. But that Scott and this Scott are definitely not the same person. And Alex won't fail again this time. Basically, this is the story of how Alex found Scott

Don't Be Afraid by flightinflame - Rated T

A lot of people fear Jean for her telepathy. But Charles never will.

Home Sweet Home by PUNK_MENACE - Rated G

Set after "Greetings from Genosha". X-Men are trained mutants, ready to fight whatever evil may try to hurt humankind or mutantkind. Which means that instead of sulking around the mansion they detected Mystique's presence on the island and managed to save Kurt. He wasn't left unscathed, though.

In These Ever Changing Times by saekhwa - Rated G

There are two things Armando knows, even one death and twenty years later: he's an X-Man, and he'll always have Alex's back.

For Just One Day Let's Only Think About Love by Duck_Life - Rated T

Sometimes, even a runaway bride isn't enough to deter a wedding after-party. Set immediately following X-Men Gold #30. Welcome to Rogue and Remy's reception.

Christmas Traditions by Ava_DAlain - Rated T

It’s the time of year that brings people together to celebrate, reflect, and create lasting memories…Maybe even some new traditions. A fluff-filled collection of one-shots, ficlets, and drabbles featuring Rogue, Gambit, and the rest of the X-Men, just for fun. Tags will be updated to reflect new chapters.

Raising Laura by LucasGreenX23 - Rated M

What if Project X-23 had been delayed several years? Beaten and abused to breed out all emotion, lead to believe that she was nothing more than a weapon to be used, a much younger X-23 has never known the concept of kindness. Then the man known as Wolverine arrived with his X-Men, and suddenly, the little mutant is faced with her greatest challenge yet… being part of a family.

The Brotherhood of (very nice) Mutants by AetherBunny - Rated G

“Pete? Can I ask you something?” “Sure, anything.” Scott looked at him for a moment and then seemed to change his mind. Scott and Pietro miss their siblings and Pete is a very good surrogate big brother. Scott gives Pete a good idea and Pete gets his sister back. This is going in the "I'm just going to keep adding Wanda" collection, but it has nothing to do with the other fics in it. It's just, you know, I added Wanda...

Desperado, Why Don't You Come To Your Senses by WretiaBlue - Rated T

Come down from your fences, open the gate It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you You better let somebody love you Let somebody love you before it's too late. Desperado, Eagles 1973 ~~~ Or: Gambit joins the X-Men. Maybe things won't turn out so bad after all.

Uncanny X-Men 1943 by stellarose - Rated M

X-Men AU. Emma Frost runs Division X, a classified squad within the secretive Special Operations Executive based in London. It isn't their job to win the war, only to save those they can. Emma's squad of Psylocke, Angel, Logan and Fantomex set out of rescue three mutants trapped in occupied and increasingly hostile France. But when the mission takes a turn for the worse, Emma and the team must decide if they cut their losses, or fight twice as hard to bring everyone home.

New Moon by digeridoo - Rated M

Logan is left to babysit a mansion full of mutant kids for the weekend while the rest of the X-Men are on conference to boost mutant acceptance.

Eulogy by Secret_Pizza_Party - Rated G

The mansion is too full of ghosts—the dead ones, and the living. The inhabitants move through rooms, move past one another as if they’ve become insubstantial, incapable of interacting. A haunting that no one can find a way to fit to words. ------ After the events of Episode 5, the X-Men gather together to say final farewells to those they've lost.

Familial ties by Multifandom_damnation - Rated T

Peter knows his father is Magneto no matter how much he tries to deny it, and even though Kurt doesn't know who his mother is, Professor X is more than happy to help him figure it out. I think it's about time we rejoined some families, don't you?

BROTHERS AND CATS by Honmyo_Seagull - Rated T

The one where Gabby gets to meet Gambit’s cats, where the Cajun fears Daken might be his evil twin and quotes Shakespeare, where Bullseye would just like people to let him do his job, where Laura might remain oblivious of certain events but still spends a pretty good day.

Sweet Home Alabama by Rachel_Martin64 - Rated T

On the way back to Alkali Lake, Scott saves a life along the highway and gets his own life saved in return. This story starts at the beginning of X3, when Scott leaves the mansion, and immediately goes AU. If you hated the way X3 treated Scott, this story's for you.

[coffeecupsandfinerwines]

Every time I watch Agents of Shield ep 3x13 Parting Shot I post about it.

You know the music didn’t have to go that hard in a spy’s goodbye scene.

I cry every time.

Hunter and Bobbi should have been brought back in some way.

I loved them.

[ioveskye]

Wonder | Leo Fitz x reader Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone, after more than a year I am finally going through with this series that I had planned. Since there is a lack of aos fics out there i wanted to make one myself. On my AO3 there is a version of this fanfic with my OC as well (in case you don’t want to read an x reader, its @ioveskye as well) Please let me know if you like the series and let me know if you want to be on the taglist.

"These are all the files the department could find about the experiments you requested." Lucia, the newly hired intern said to Y/n as she was handed the files she asked for. She smiled at the young girl and thanked her. Lucia made her way back to her own desk and Y/n immediately began to do her research.

Y/n L/n, a well-known detective all around the world. She has solved numerous mysteries and was even the first person to be right about the 'Thor theory'. A recent turn of events has caught the attention of the young detective lately which led her to read all the files that the department could find. Numerous hospitals in the area around Los Angeles all had encounters with patients that died of similar causes. The biggest pattern between these deaths was that the cause of death was never discovered. After some more digging Y/n found out that all the patients had all undergone special treatments at the same medical clinic.

Sadly that was as far as she got. An address. It wasn't a well-known clinic and they only specialized in physiotherapy (that's what the website said at least). So she decided to check it out to just 'ask some questions'. The moment she grabbed her gear however she was stopped by the ringing of her phone. It wasn't her work phone so she was very confused about why an anonymous caller was calling her. When she pressed accept she never would've believed to hear the voice of an old friend.

"Y/n L/N, it has been a while since we last spoke hasn't it?" The voice of Phil Coulson said at the other end of the line.

Y/n couldn't help but smirk. Of course, Phil Coulson would call her randomly after three years like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Well well, Phil Coulson. In what do I owe the pleasure? Does S.H.I.E.L.D. need my help again with something?"

"You could say that. But it isn't just S.H.I.E.L.D. it's also a friend asking for a favor."

She turned to the two co-workers that were waiting for her at the side of her desk. She held her phone to her shoulder so she could talk to the two men. "Guys go back to your other assignments I don't think we'll be heading out for a while."They nodded at her and walked back to their own desks once again while Y/n turned her attention back to her phone.

"So, what kind of favor is this and how do I benefit from it." She asked the man with a smirk knowing damn well it didn't actually matter since she'd always help out.

"I've been setting up a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that are focused on missions with potential 0-8-4's. I think you're familiar with those right?" The line went quiet for a while, Coulson waiting for an affirmation that the young detective still remembered what he meant. When the girl hummed in familiarity the man continued. "Well, I hoped that you would be a part of that team. I know your last team up with S.H.I.E.L.D a few years ago didn't go as planned and that you've decided that working on your own was better but I hoped you could give us another chance. I think you'd be a great asset. If not for S.H.I.E.L.D then just as a consultant. I'd like to hear about your decision soon."

The girl sighed when Coulson didn't say anything else. Of course, she wanted to help Coulson with his team but teamwork wasn't something she was specialized in. The last time she went on a mission with S.H.I.E.L.D it went horribly wrong and she told herself she wouldn't make that mistake again. But now that Coulson asked for her help she couldn't refuse.

"All right, ill do it. But they better pay me for this."

"Don't worry, I've already made sure of that."

[a-roguish-gambit]

Turn of the century au thoughts: dog days of summer

So it's been hot as heck here for a good week and that gave me some thoughts.

During 1912, air conditioning and refrigeration were still a very new thing and expensive as hell. There's no way the brotherhood of mutants could afford that, especially when mystique disappears for a while. So the boys are suffering horribly, sweating like pigs.

When Pietro comes up, pissed as hell because he saw the x men having lemonade with ice and ice cream of all things. There's no way on a day like this they could have that with a normal ice box. They must have some refrigerator unit.

Bitter and jealous, the brotherhood decide they are going to break in and steal it. Xavier can probably afford another. It's practically an act of charity!

So that night they sneak over, planning to be in and out quickly....but unfortunately not so. Cause no matter where they look, they can't find any sign of a refrigerator.

Finally they are cornered in the kitchen as they try to come up with what to do next by wolverine who has been tailing them since they got there, gambit who noticed them sneaking around the garden, and scott who woke up planing to drink whats left of the milk before they get their delivery in the morning.

There's a solid minute of silence before the brotherhood resort to a food fight to try and make their escape but end up waking up jean and Bobby in the process, to which jean stops them in their tracks.

Gambit: what da hell ya doin here???

Wolverine: mystique probably set them up to steal our records on mutants....

Toad: what? No we actually don't know where she is. We want your refrigerator

Gambit: what.

Lance: don't play dumb we know you have one!

Scott:...those are thousands of dollars and barely hold anything! Why would we have one??? Look there's a regular ice box right there. *Pulls the milk out to prove his point* why would we have an ice cabinet if we had a fridge???

Blob: but....you guys had ice cream....an ice box can't keep that on a day like yesterday.....

Pietro: yeah! It's not physically possible...unless you guys have air conditioning? How did you afford that for this whole place it's huge!!!!

Scott:....bobby.

Bobby: on it *opens the ice cabinet and refreezes the tub of ice inside*

Brotherhood:......ohhhhhhhhhhh

Gambit: seriously y'all knew Bobby and Ororo live here and ya think we needed air conditionin or a fridge box?

Toad:...i mean when ya put it that way...

Lance:....can we borrow Bobby tomorrow

Scott: NO!

Jean: What is wrong with you?!

Wolverine: Absolutely not!

Bobby: I charge a dollar an hour for my services.

The x men:.....

Gambit: non bobby ya worth more Dan dat. Tree dollas an hour or nothin

Scott: GAMBIT-

Pietro: Deal. just put our house on ice please.