#reposting because my tag got eaten?? big sorry

[idmakeitbehave]

A Safe Place to Land (BAU x Reader)

Summary: Even the Badass Unit needs a hug sometimes.

Pairings: platonic!BAU x gender-neutral!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: literally nothing, just comfort and fluff

—————

You had made it your mission from the very beginning to discover the team’s love languages- their little comforts, their calm in the storm. People need people after all- someone to pick them up when things get bad, to help them carry on through it all.

*

Penelope’s had been easy.

The first time you met her she had enveloped you in the warmest bone crushing hug. You knew instantly that that would be the first of many hugs the two of you would share. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was clear to see when she needed an embrace- be it physical or otherwise.

During difficult cases, when you could hear her voice crack over the phone or see her start to get overwhelmed, you knew a hug was in order the moment you got back. Sometimes you would stumble upon something sparkly or rainbow in whatever town you were in that simply screamed Penelope and you would just have to bring it home for her. It was a simple gesture, but she always treated each and every gift like you were handing her solid gold. All of the hugs you shared were as much for you as they were for her.

*

Derek’s was nuanced.

It was inside jokes and knowing glances. It was looking out for one another, an unsaid understanding. It was there in the times you would joke around together, him throwing you over his shoulder while you shrieked gleefully. Other times, it was there in the quiet, in the moments of vulnerability. It had been difficult to get there at first, to break down those walls, but you had waited patiently.

There was something there, a pull that you felt towards him. He was such a strong, comforting presence. There was an immediate safeness in being in his orbit, and you were thankful that you had the privilege to know him. You found yourself sharing things with him that you had not dared tell anyone, and he had opened up to you in return. That, tempered with your easy, natural interactions, made you both lean on one another instinctually.

*

Rossi’s was seen in action, in time spent together.

There was no use in getting him gifts- he had no need for material objects. He was a man of taste and means and you knew that anything tangible you could give him would be appreciated, but wholly unnecessary. Instead, you noticed the joy he took in the moments you all shared with one another. They were moments that none of you took for granted. You all knew how quickly they could be taken away.

Whether it was a night out at a bar or a quiet evening in learning how to cook one of his classic dishes, there was a healing quality to your gatherings. You benefited as much as he did, and you made sure to make a point to reach out to him- especially when he went silent. That was when he needed it the most. It was simple: a knock on his office door, a quirk of the eyebrow, a raise of a glass.

*

Emily was a tough one to crack.

Continue on AO3

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.31

Hulk Smash (Pt.1)

06/03/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 8,188

Warnings: language?, war, fluff, smut

A/N: This one took a while to get out. I’m sorry about that but I hope you enjoy it. It’s a little longer than I’ve been doing Pseudo Princess chapters. I’ve been trying to stick to 4k-6k but this one needed the extra 2k words. I hope you love it as much as I do. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!! xoxo

Tags are CLOSED!!

Please do not REPOST my stories on any other sites. Reblogs are welcome!

“Stop. No. Not here.” Steve tries to push you away as your hands tug open the front drawstring of his trousers.

He’s been dressing lazily these past few weeks, caring little as to what he looks like since he spends most of his time here in your old rooms planning for what’s to come.

He’s been so good about obeying Grandmother’s wishes to keep his hands to himself. Too good. Your body is burning for him and you pull his cock out, still soft, and pliable in your hand.

It twitches as you take hold, Steve’s storm blue eyes shaking as his breath hitches when you stroke the length of him, base to tip as you lean over him, your breasts so close to his face.

“I want you.” You whisper, looking down at him only inches away from his lips.

You’re careful to keep your voice down as Peter is just outside the office door.

You hadn’t used this room much your first time here—most of your studying had been done in the library and the small table in your bedroom. Now that Steve needs a place to work, it has been converted into his own small den.

The large wooden desk, a solid piece of surprisingly dark wood in your father’s more brightly colored castle, is where he sits on a tall pale rose velvet cushioned seat. The tabletop is littered with scrolls and leather-bound books. Steve’s notes and plans. Strategies for the team.

“No.” Steve attempts to deny you, reaching down to place his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to push you away but his hands only flex around the muscle. “We can’t. You’re heavy with child, my flower.”

His cock seems to twitch harder at the thought and you feel him stiffen in your stoking grip. You know how much he loves your tummy. He strokes it every night. Cooing and cherishing you and his prince.

You’re eight months gone. The snow outside is finally gone. The trees are starting to sprout, and the bees begin to buzz amongst freshly grown flower buds. The castle is pleasantly cool, despite the warm day beyond the castle walls.

Steve has kept you at a distance since the two of you were rescued by Sam from Bright Rise. After a month and a half of waiting, your patience has worn thin. You want him, and you will have him.

“Then I’ll only have a taste.” You plead, dropping to your knees.

Steve sits up quickly, catching you below the elbow and almost pulls you back up, but he’s too afraid to be more than gentle with you. This makes it easy for you to force yourself back down and out of his grip.

As you lean in towards him, holding the head of his cock only inches away from your mouth, your hot breath finishes the job of making him hard as his shield.

He sighs, voice shallow, body tense as he grabs the arms of his chair. “Y/N…”

“Let me.” You plead, talking with your lips pressed against the bulb of his cock.

You flick your tongue out, running the slippery wet along the crease of his head until you reach the soft, heated tip.

With a quiet moan, you close your lips around him and give a gentle suck.

Steve falls back, breathing heavy, shoulders slumped against his chair as his chest and stomach struggle for air.

“Oh, my flower…” He whispers, allowing his hand to wander up to the side of your face to caress your cheek.

You smile, triumphant in his defeat. With gusto you take him into your mouth, struggling to take more than half of him, he’s so big.

“Mmm.” You keen, the vibrations of the sound making Steve gasp.

You begin to roll your tongue along his undershaft, when a knock sends your heart racing.

Almost as if you two share one mind, you scoot back as fast as you can (which isn’t as fast as you’d like) underneath his desk, thankfully shielded from view by the large ornately carved front.

Steve scoots his chair in as much as he can while holding his legs wide open so that you might fit there between them.

The door opens and Steve sighs with frustration, his cheeks and ears burning scarlet. You can see him. Only his face, but he spares you a glance and frowns as he looks up to see the interrupter.

With his elbows on his desk, he sighs. “What is it, Sam?”

“We’ve got the perimeter of the castle completed and Lord Coulson has sent an update on the state of the Kingdom.” You hear the drop of a letter on the desk above your head then look back down at Steve’s cock.

It’s begun to soften, and you can’t have that! He’d given in to you finally.

You reach out and take hold of it, wrapping your hand around the base.

Steve jumps, then coughs to cover the movement up.

“Are you alright?” Sam asks. “Do you need some water?”

You smile lightly as you watch Steve turn his blue eyes on you with a subtle look of shock. He shakes his head then looks back to Sam.

“No.” He clears his throat and you begin to stroke him, making him stiff again. “No, I’m fine. Is that all?”

“I thought you might want an update about Sharon.” Sam offers, and her mention irks you.

In response—and because he’s right there, pink cock erect and glistening at the tip where you’d been licking—you lean forward and press him to your lips again.

He shudders and you wrap your mouth around the head before sucking softly, moving your head forward until you’ve taken as much of him as you can.

You hold him there, tongue attempting to lap at him but unable to do more than shift around his girth.

“N-No.” Steve sighs again, this time pretending exasperation to cover the sigh of pleasure spilling from his mouth. “No. I don’t need to know about Sharon.”

“But-”

You pull back, as silent as the dead of night, breathing heat against him as you pull him out of your mouth and stroke him gently.

“Sam…can this wait? I’m very….very busy.” Steve sighs again, shutting his eyes tight as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock again.

He places his hands over his eyes, massaging them and his temples as if nursing a headache before meeting your gaze. He bites his lip, licking at them as you smile then take him in as far as you can once again.

He shuts his eyes, breath hitching as he turns his eyes back to Sam.

“Anything else?” He asks, stern and clearly in need of solitude.

“No.” Sam says, sounding a little offended. “That is all.”

“I’ll come find you later.” Steve tells him. “I might take a rest with her Majesty after I’ve finished here.”

“Very well, your Majesty.” Sam says, and his feet retreat from the room.

As the door shuts, he falls from your mouth as he stands.

He struts to the door, latches the lock, and he’s back before you in seconds.

He pulls his chair away and stoops down to help you to your feet as you struggle with the weight of your unborn child.

“I’m sorry.” You almost laugh, not really sorry one bit. “I just couldn’t let you-”

Steve’s mouth falls against your hungrily, his hands on the sides of your face to hold you still as he presses you into his desk.

He kisses you until your head is dizzy then pulls back to lift you onto the edge to sit.

“How am I supposed to resist you when you don’t play fair?” Steve asks, face furrowed with all of the repressed passion he’d had to shove down in the last month.

He hikes up your skirts, dipping low to kiss you again and you wrap your arm around his shoulders as he spreads your knees and settles between them.

“You’re making me break my promise.” He accuses you.

You laugh at him, unable to help yourself with his pouting and he stops as if you’ve frozen him in place. His hands are curled around your thighs, holding them apart as he presses against you.

He watches you chuckle, his expression shifting from frustration to a look of pure adoration.

If there’s one thing that Steve cannot get enough of, it’s your laugh.

“I’m sorry.” You giggle, reaching down to grab hold of his shirt front, holding tight. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so…”

“You’re not sorry.” He whispers, then kisses your lips softly before silencing your laughter as he buries himself in you, quenching both your thirsts.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re so happy. So satisfied.

Steve is sleeping with his head on your naked chest, his arms around your torso with one hand still caressing the side of your extended belly.

He’s been here all day, and you’ve been too happy and comforted by his presence to care that you’re so hungry you could eat an entire roasted pig.

Your little one however, protests violently, kicking against Steve’s hand.

He groans then your tummy rumbles and though he slower than usual, he’s still quick to respond to your hunger as always.

First, he picks his head up off your chest, looking at you with sleepy eyes. One closed, one barely open. His lips are curled into a small grimace as he tries to focus on your face.

“Wassamadder?” He asks groggily.

Your stomach rumbles again.

“You were so tired.” You explain, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

“Have you not eaten?!” He sits up, voice much clearer as his disapproval wakes him up.

“You’ve been sleeping so restlessly. I didn’t want to wake you.” You continue.

Steve is up and out of bed, pulling on the cord to call for assistance while he pulls on his robe.

Your heart laments as he covers himself up, but the door opens almost right away. You pull your bedsheets up around yourself and struggle only a little as you pull yourself to sit up in bed.

“What happened?” Peter asks, panic in his eyes.

“Nothing.” You assure him, sorry for the anxiety that your multiple disappearances has created in him. “We’re fine. I’m just a little hungry.”

“Why hasn’t anyone brought her Majesty something to eat?” Steve looks towards the windows to see that night has fallen. “We’ve been in here all day.”

Peter flushes and you frown at Steve.

“It’s not his fault, Steve. I asked them not to disturb us.” You chastise.

“That’s not the point.” Steve argues. “You are clearly with child. It should be our first priority to make sure that you eat.”

“I’ll fetch her a feast, your Majesty.” Peter assures him, then turns and disappears through the doors, shutting them as he goes.

“Steve…”

“I know!” He sighs, moving around to your side of the bed. He grabs your nightdress as he passes it then holds it out for you as he sits. “I know that I’m being unbearable. I’m not sorry though.”

You shake your head, pulling the night dress over your head. Steve pulls the sheets away from your legs and then offers his arm for you to use as you stand and pull the rest of your nightgown down.

When you’re dressed, Steve pulls you down onto his leg, sitting you there as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I want you well. You’re still recovering from our escapades in Bright Rise. I don’t want you to become weak again.” Steve confesses. “It took you three days to wake up.”

“You’re worrying for no reason.” You reach up and fix his bed hair, tucking the strands back with gentle fingers.

“What am I to do if you should fall ill? I cannot lose you. Either of you.” He frets, placing his hand on your stomach.

“Oh,” You chuckle softly, affection pouring out of you at his sweetness. “You won’t lose me. If my hunger had been severe, I would have said so.”

Steve frowns at you, knowing better.  “You and I both know that you would have gone hungry if it meant letting me sleep, which I am grateful for, but I want you to take care of yourself first from here on out. I’ve taken enough from you in our marriage.”

Biting your lip, you frown at first because he’s still suffering from his guilt but then you smile. He knows you well now. You hate it and love it all at once.

“Now stop arguing with me and promise me that you will do better. For our prince if not for yourself.” Steve says, playing dirty.

You feel rightly chastised and nod. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

Reaching down you place your hand over his and the two of you caress your stomach.

There’s a knock on your door and you slowly rise as it swings open.

Peter moves in holding a tray laden with simple breads and jellies for you to snack on. He’s followed by Natasha who stops by the door wearing a long and beautiful ruby red dress with an intricate golden lace pattern along her bodice.

She watches Peter place your tray on your table but waits for him to leave before she speaks.

“Have you received word on Fury?” Steve asks her.

“Yes. He’s on his way. It will be at least three days before he can get here. As for Mr. Lang and his wife, they should be here tomorrow night. Tony’s preparing a feast for them. It’ll only be us, but with what we’re asking of them-”

Steve nods. “Tony will spare no expense.”

“Nat, how is Bucky?” You wonder, moving towards her a few steps while you chew on your slice of bread.

“Better, your Majesty. He’s feeling more and more like himself every day.” She smiles, grateful for your concern.

“I’d really like to see him.” You tell her, pleading.

“Not yet.” She says sternly, then her voice softens at the disappointment on your face. “I know that you say you’re not worried about your safety with him, but we all believe we should take things slowly.”

Looking to Steve, you see that he agrees.

With a huff you move to sit by your table.

“How is his new arm?” Steve wonders.

“Stronger than his old one. It won’t be easy to break this new one.” Nat reveals.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad one.” Steve says with a smirk, Nat returns it.

You’re not sure what’s so funny, but they seem happy about Bucky’s progress, so you sit down to huff on your own.

The last thing you want is for Bucky to be angry with himself. Blaming himself for something that was not his doing.

“When can I see him?” You ask, biting your bread once more.

Nat and Steve both look at you and Steve moves to you, stooping down into a crouch to look up at your face.

He slips his hand around the back of your head, caressing it before he places his hand on your stomach.

“We should take our time.” Nat tells you.

“How much time?”

“Until the baby is born.” Steve says, and your heart falls.

“But that’s still nearly two months away.” You complain, your heart aching for the torture that Bucky must be enduring. “I can’t wait that long.”

You drop your food, reach down, and place your hands on Steve’s cheeks.

“Please? He needs to know that we’re alright. I know you’ve seen him, but he needs to see that the baby is fine.” You turn a knowing look on Nat. “He’s asked about us, has he not?”

She looks away, confirming your suspicions.

“Steve don’t let him torture himself with this guilt. I can’t stand it. Not at my expense.” You wait but watch as Steve’s resolve breaks. He takes your hands, kisses your palm, and then nods.

“Fine. But we’ll go together, you are not to leave my side, and we will be no more than five minutes.”

You beam, ecstatic for your triumph.

You meet Nat’s eyes as Steve stands and moves around to sit at the opposite side of the small table. She’s frowning, upset that you get your way but only because she’s worried for you.

Instead of fighting about what’s really bothering her, she glares at your plate of breads and jams and sighs heavily.

“I’ll go get you something more substantial to eat.” She says simply, then turns and leaves.

“She’s upset that I’m going to see him.” You lament, your heart falling a little.

“She’s worried about you and our child. They all are. We only want to keep you safe.” Steve explains.

“I know.” You nod. “But I want to keep all of you safe too.”

Steve’s expression softens and he nods. “I know. My sweet flower…” He coos.

He spreads some strawberry jam on a piece of toast then holds it out for you.

“…if you could, I think you would save the whole world from all its troubles.” Steve shakes his head.

“Is that so wrong of me?” You ask him, and he simply chuckles before placing his elbow on the table, chin in his hand as he watches you nibble.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stay there, please, your Majesty. I don’t know what else Hydra has put in my head.” Bucky pleads and you stop just inside the large doors of father’s smaller dungeon.

Though it is underground, it has been fixed up with a large four post bed, lush carpets, sturdy tables, and cushioned seats.

Steve stands beside you. On edge. Staring at Bucky so intently you think maybe he might be seeing through him.

Slowly you run your hand along his back and feel him relax, all while you stare ahead at your terrified friend.

“From what I understood, Princess Shuri had removed all of the brainwashing from your mind?” You check, knowing it to be a fact.

“She thinks she did.” Bucky relents. “Yes. But there is no way to know for sure. This isn’t exactly something that happens often.”

“No one is here to whisper into your ear this time, James.” You sigh, moving a step closer. Steve moves with you.

“Is that how it started?” He wonders, utterly confused. “I-I remember a little. Natasha told me that you’d seen Pierce with me before it happened.”

“I did.” You shake your head, placing your hands along the base of your bump, caressing the little angel within absentmindedly.

Bucky’s eyes also find your prince and are glued there suddenly, face contorting into a look of pained grief.

“Is he alright? Have-have you felt him at all?” He asks, voice so quiet that it dies out completely t the ends of his questions.

“Yes!” You assure him, a small automatic chuckle escaping your lips at the thought of your little prince being still, ever. “Yes, very much. He kicks me all of the time. He moves night and day. This morning he kicked Steve awake, demanding to be fed.”

Steve slips his arm around your waist, loving the side of your stomach.

“He does that every morning.” Steve agrees. “I told you, you had nothing to worry about. She and my heir were perfectly healthy.”

Bucky visibly relaxes, backing up until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I needed to see it for myself.” Bucky says, proving your suspicions completely correct.

You give Steve a frown and a knowing look. He returns one looking rather chastised.

“That’s exactly why I wanted to see you.” You tell him. “To show you that we’re alright. You didn’t hurt us, James.”

“Bucky, please your Majesty.” He pleads, sighing lightly.

“Then if I call you Bucky you must call me by my name too.” You tease him.

He gives you a smile before he looks down at his feet and chuckles only once before meeting your eyes again.

“Okay.” He shakes his head, then slowly his smile falls, and you can tell that his mind has gone back to the violence of the day he attacked. “What happened?”

You move closer with Steve along for your every step and stop at the first seat you come to by a small table set for two.

Natasha must be down here all the time.

Steve helps you sit—fussy husband that he is—then stands behind you, his hands on the back of your chair.

“I thought I was dreaming.” You admit to Bucky, shaking your head a little as you try to remember that day in detail. “I was still a little disoriented by the sleeping draft that Grandmother had given me, so I drifted in and out of my sleep as I watched Pierce exit a carriage. He called to Rumlow, who then brought you to him. He leaned in towards you and I could see his mouth moving as he whispered into your ear. Then I must have fallen asleep again. It could have been seconds or minutes but when I opened my eyes you were all gone. The carriage across the square stood alone and you were nowhere to be found.

“We didn’t see you again until you were in front of our carriage in the middle of the road.” You can see his mind working hard to remember or maybe to connect dots he’s collected of the happenings of that day and perhaps even his time in Hydra’s capture.

“Do you remember them messing with your mind?” You ask him, Steve stiffens behind you.

Perhaps you’re not interpreting his tense silence correctly, but you have a feeling that Bucky was never asked about his time with Hydra. Or maybe not in depth?

You look up at him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes and instead stares at Bucky intently, waiting with bated breath for his answer.

Bucky chuckles, relaxing his body with the movement.

“What?” You ask, “What have I said?”

“How can you be so fearless? Only Natasha has asked me about my time with Hydra.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you.” Steve interjects, his voice lamenting his hesitation.

“I would have told you everything if there were anything to tell.” Bucky assures him.

“So, you don’t remember anything?” You ask him.

“No, it isn’t that I don’t remember anything, it’s just that none of my memories are linear. I remember small bits. A cold table made of metal. Sharp bites to my arm and shoulder. I remember a deep laughter, then a surge of freezing wind. I remember a strange sharp burn, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

“Now that I think about it, it feels like when Thor uses his hammer and the air is full of that same energy.” Bucky tries to explain.

You understand what he means though you don’t have a word for it. “Like lightning?”

“Yes!” Bucky exclaims. “Yes, exactly like lightning. How could they channel it? Hydra…”

He drifts off into thought.

You give him a few minutes of silence, letting him think.

“Do you feel well enough to greet our guests?” Steve asks after a while.

“I don’t know…” Bucky says, standing and wringing his new metal hand. He strokes it, massaging his metal palm with his flesh thumb.

“Bucky,” You begin gently and rise.

This time, Steve doesn’t follow when you move towards Bucky, and you know that the two of you are of one mind, finally.

Bucky takes a faltering step backwards, but the bed is there, and he can’t move any further. You reach for his metal hand and step so close that he looks down at you with fearful eyes.

His hand you place on your belly, a gentle smile offered as he quickly scans your grip, Steve by the chair you’d been in, and then your face.

“You can’t hide down here forever. I know that you’re afraid. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t. But my fear is in what Hydra can do. I’m not scared of you. You were the first person from Broklin’s court that I met after Natasha and you greeted me with a smile and kind words.

“I will never forget that. You also stood up for me when I arrived in Broklin. Steve told me how you chastised him for being cruel and I had no idea. Even if it was only to save your king from himself only, you will forever have my trust, Bucky. Whether you want it or not. You will never be able to make me give up on you and I assure you that Steve feels just as I do. And I’d bet that Nat is in that list of those you will never get rid of as well.”

In your stomach, your prince kicks and Bucky gasps. He laughs once, startled by the movement but then Steve is beside you, his hands on your arms as he meets Bucky’s eyes.

“I need you with us, Buck. We need you with us. My son will need his Godfather.” Steve states, and you smile, because you’ve known his intentions for some time.

Bucky is speechless and says nothing while your prince kicks away in your belly.

Finally, Steve’s own smile peeks through when you reach back to take his hand.

“I think you might have rendered him mute.” You tease. “You’ve broken him.”

“Are you alright, Bucky?” Steve checks.

Bucky seems to regain a little of his composure as he chuckles weakly.

“Godfather?” He gasps.

“If you are willing to accept.” Steve tells him. “I can think of no one else that would protect my son with the strength and sincerity that you would. Please say that you will accept.”

“Of-of course I will!” Bucky says, cheeks flushed, but eyes beaming. “How can I deny my King and Queen anything that they desire?”

“Then you’ll come to dinner.” You tell him, an order of the most loving kind.

Bucky chuckles again, this time with true humor.

“She’s relentless.” Steve teases. “This Queen of mine.”

Bucky nods and continues to laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you so much for joining us Mr. Lang. And you too Mrs. Lang.” Tony says, smiling at Scott while his wife Hope grins pleasantly beside him.

“Your highest Majesty of Kings.” Scott says with a flourish of his hand and a grin so wide it makes your cheeks hurt.

Even sitting he attempts to bow, and you have to fight the stretch of your own smile as you’re tempted to laugh.

“Scott.” Hope says her voice even and stern.

The table is full. Tony sits at one end, Pepper at the opposite end. You are sat beside Natasha, who has taken to fussing over you in place of Steve who has been placed across from you and a few seats down.

The others at dinner are Clint, Thor, Peter, Bucky, Sam, and Harold—or Happy, as he prefers you to call him.

Happy more than anyone else in the room looks nervous but you know it has nothing to do with the current guests and more so the fact that Fury is due any time now. With the snow almost gone his journey should be quicker.

“We are very gracious for your hospitality, King Anthony.” Hope says with a kind smile in place as she puts down her fork.

As they exchange simple pleasantries, you lean towards Natasha to whisper in her ear. “Where’s Bruce? Did he have medical work?”

Nat also leans to meet you then turns to answer you. “He has taken his form as the Hulk tonight. He’s monitoring our perimeter. If something comes up, he’ll let us know.”

You’re not sure what Bruce’s Hulk persona looks like yet, but you know that he’s larger. Larger than Thor or Steve.

But if they sent him of everyone on the team, things must be serious.

“I’m sorry that we’ve brought you out here for this.” You interject, leaning forward while placing your own fork down too. “I mean, I am pleased to have you here. Pleased to meet you. But under these circumstances…”

Fretting, you lean back and wring your hands.

“Y/N…” Steve says, worry flitting across his face.

Natasha is there for him where he is out of reach and slides her hand into yours to hold it and offer a bit of comfort.

“Oh, no, your Majesty.” Hope hurries to reassure you. “Word of Hydra’s ambush has reached the furthest kingdoms and we are happy to offer assistance.”

“Hope is right.” Scott nods, his face serious and honest. “We wanted to help even before word arrived with your request for aid. People are very fond of the Queen of Broklin.”

This catches you by surprise and your eyes go wide as you look at Steve then your father, and finally Scott and Hope in turn.

“Me?” You ask in shock.

“Why does that surprise you, little bird?” Thor wonders, happy for you in this news.

“I…” You begin, unable to finish the thought.

“Your people love you.” Hope says gently, a smile stretching her pretty lips. Her slender form and angular face framed by dark straight locks gathered gently up upon her head, all adjusted for you in its softness. “Word has traveled far of your efforts to make their lives better. They notice. Other kingdoms care. You are a wonderful Queen and we are happy to fight for someone who already fights for so many.”

Left speechless, you turn to Steve who sits leaning back in his chair, eyes dazzling with admiration but a smile that tells you he expected no less.

As all of you begin to round out your meal, you’re still reeling from Scott’s words when a sudden rumbling silences the room. It’s distant, past the castle grounds but it’s unmistakable. It sounds like the round metal plate that Bucky had thrown beneath your carriage in Hydra’s first ambush.

Everyone freezes in place, Nat with her hand stretched out over yours, your hands on your belly, Steve’s elbow still resting on his chair’s right arm as he’d been leaning towards Bucky to speak in hushed tones as the rest of the room had chattered away.

“Happy…” Father begins, and Happy springs to his feet and moves out a side door, long dark cloak of shimmering silk following behind him. He’s surprisingly spry for someone so stout but you know how much he must do for father.

Steve turns to Sam and Bucky, and with a firm nod they’re up on their feet moving through a second door on the opposite side of the room.

“Steve…” You whimper, more from fear of being separated than from any fear for your life.

“It’s alright.” Natasha assures you, but she’s not even looking at you.

Her own heart has left the room and you can see her desire to follow.

“Go.” You tell her, whispering so that no one else can hear though you know Steve will know what you’re doing.

“I’m not leaving your side.” Natasha says firmly, almost angry.

“And Bucky needs you more than I do right now. He’s still recovering Nat. Go be his iron shield. I have mine here.” You point out.

Nat looks at Steve who gives her a tiny nod and she’s up and gone in a sweeping sashay of crimson skirts.

You struggle to get out of your chair and Clint is at your side helping pull it back so that you can rise.

“Allow me, your Majesty.” He says with his eyes on the large windows behind you.

“Do you see anything?” You ask him, placing your hand on your back as you stand.

“It is late. I can’t see anything from here. I need to get to a tower.” Clint states.

“There’s a tower in the wing where my quarters are located. It looks over the entire Southern front. You’ll have nothing to obscure your sights.” And it’s where you’ll be if things get risky. Knowing he’s up there will give you comfort.

Moving to stand beside him you can indeed see that trying to see anything from this height and in the pitch black of night is impossible. There are a few specks of firelight in the distance. Knights patrolling the grounds. They’re a little more frantic in their swaying with the sounds of explosions at the opposite end of the property, but they remain at their posts.

Clint reaches up to smooth his golden blonde hair, touches his ears and for a moment you see them glow a dim purple hue before they fade.

“Clint?” You check, waiting for him to say anything. “The tower?”

Two hands run the length of your arms and you lean back, knowing he’ll be there.

“Go, Clint. And check on the other two as well. See if they’re ready.” Steve tells him.

Clint meets his eyes and with a quick bow to the two of you, he turns and leaves.

Heavy footsteps stop beside you and Steve, and you turn to see Thor also staring out the windows with a furrowed brow.

A quick glance back at your father and you see that he and Pepper are in deep conversation with Scott and Hope.

“I will stay with her.” Thor says.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I need you with us down in the fight. Peter is coming up to be with her. And we have contingencies for her safety. Don’t worry. Your strength is better served in the fight.”

Thor looks as if he wants to disagree, looking down at you with a furrowed brow and agonized bright blue eyes.

“Go.” You tell him, trying to look as strong as you can.

You want to tell him to be safe. To stay out of too much danger. For your sake. Because you can’t stand the idea of his being hurt. But you don’t. Because Thor needs to know that you believe in him and you do. He saved you and now he must save everyone else.

“I’m fine.” You promise him and with clench of his jaw he turns and thuds his way to the Southern balcony.

The doors thrown open allow a rush of warm air to fill the room. Only the hint of a chill in the new spring air. Soft gauzy curtains are thrown up to wave and weave as Thor holds out his hand and his hammer flies readily into his hand. He holds it up into the air and a crackle and boom of lightning hit the spot he stands in.

You gasp, shocked by the sight never having seen him transform on the spot into his own unique outfit. He’s always been normal around you and this God that stands before you is not the Thor you’ve seen before.

His arms are plated quickly, each piece landing and stitching together like the sky is sewing him in. The plates run along his shoulders and torso. Six round plates, thick and with Asgardian runes burned into the metal fall into place along his front from large to small. His bottoms are thick black leather, boots large and reinforced with more glistening silver iron.

Along his shoulders a long red cape with golden threads begins to flow, down to his feet as his hips are shrouded in more thick leather armor.

On his head a helmet begins to take shape. Strong and crackling with more sizzling blue lightning that flows along the shape of it until two silver wings stand erect on either side of his brooding face.

As the lightning dissipates merely seconds after its hit him, he spins his hammer, adjusting his stance to brace himself against the floor. With a mighty thrust into the air he’s lifted off the ground and disappears into the sky with a small crack as he picks up speed.

Your terror begins to subside. Embracing the majesty of his transformation and the clarity of just how ready for battle he is soothes your nerves and you look up at Steve who stands watching you with an agony similar to that of Thor’s only moments ago.

Reaching up you place your hands on the sides of his face, caressing his cheeks as he wraps his arms around you more tightly.

“Go.” You whisper, voice shaking because you might be able to put on a brave face with Thor, but Steve is an entirely different story.

“I will come back to you.” Steve swears, leaning in closely until he can rest his forehead against your own.

His hands wander down to your lower back and the other comes around to press into the side of your belly.

“I will be back for both of you.”

“You’d better.” You whisper in return, trying to at least keep your tears from falling. “I’m not finished with my studies yet and I can’t run a Kingdom on my own. I can’t even spell acquisition without looking it up.”

Steve’s face relaxes as he chuckles at your little joke and it relieves your anxiety for only a split second.

“My son will have both his mother and father to raise him. You and I are forbidden to die until he is at least married with his first child.”

Steve smiles again, nodding before leaning in to kiss your lips.

Two quick pecks is all you good before he’s pulling out of your grasp. Your hands hold onto him as long as they can but he’s out the door after Sam, Bucky, and Natasha before you can even take a breath.

With your fingers pressed to your lips, holding that last kiss to your lips in worship, you watch as Father sends Mother away.

She gives you one last glance before she’s hurrying off to her own post in the war room to give out commands whilst Father is out with the team.

Father, Scott, and Hope get to their feet.

“Do you need to change?” Father asks.

“We are always ready.” Hope says and she quickly peels off her dress—one whole piece despite how much it looks like a traditional gown.

Beneath is revealed a sleek gray suit unlike any you have ever seen before. Along the torso is a framework of yellow fabric that you don’t recognize but it all looks like armor. Leather, but more pliable. She reaches along the back of her neck and pulls from there a hood that she draws over her head then attaches to her front a silver mask.

Beside Hope, Scott has also peeled away his nicest tunic and trousers to leave him standing in a similar suit of black and red, his own hood and mask also placed over his face.

Hope hunches forward, her eyes straining for a moment before four silver wings appear out of thin air attached to her back. They unfurl in a wisp of smoke like magic. With a subtle twitch of her right hand, she’s suddenly gone, replaced by a miniscule version that you have to squint to make out.

“Don’t worry.” Scott tells Father, place his hand on his shoulder. “If things get worse, I have a way of making sure they see the point we’re trying to make. They couldn’t miss it even if they tried.”

With a subtle move to his hand too, he also appears to shrink. As he finishes, you see the smaller Hope catch him and out the window they go with the sound of a tiny buzz of wings left in their wake.

“They were essential, I think. Hydra won’t be expecting them.” Father tells you, moving over to stand beside you as you reel from witnessing not one but three magical transformations in one night. “This is all because of you, you know.”

“Please don’t say that.” You beg, heart racing as you turn to look at the frantic little flames below again.

“No, I mean it.” Father says.

“Father-”

“I don’t mean this fight. I mean, this team. We’re together again, because of you. Even have some new faces too.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Not just because you married Steve, but because of the things you’ve done. The Queen you’ve become. The woman you brought us all back together.

“Even Clint returned.” Father says.

There is a beat of silence in which you think about everything you’ve done as Queen for Broklin and it has indeed been quite the learning experience. You’ve learned so much about what makes the world work and where adjustments can be made to benefit everyone.

You’ve learned how to open yourself to weakness and you’ve found strength within yourself that you had no idea you possessed. You hadn’t known before how much someone else could mean to you and how that love could grow even further for your son.

You hadn’t known how freeing it would be to trust someone so completely and to have someone trust you so completely too. You’d never known what it was to share a friendship so deep that it became more than friendship. It became family.

“I wish this wasn’t happening.” You whisper, struggling to bottle up your emotions again.

“They were going to come back one way or another.” Father assures you. “At least this time we know what they want. Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

Reluctantly you go with him and let him lead you back to your quarters where you take the seat at your table.

The quiet is unbearable until…BOOM!

The castle shakes and you yelp as you’re startled.

Before you can understand what happened, your window is thrown open from the outside and into your room flies a large body of black and silver armor. It looks almost exactly the same as Father’s Iron Man suit, the only difference is the coloring.

“You’re up, Tony. They need you down there.” Rhodey’s voice says.

“Rhodey?” You gasp, standing from shock.

“Where’s Parker?” Father asks, “We need you out there too.”

“He’s on his way. His Aunt’s home was set ablaze, he’s escorting her out of the city.”

“You should both go.” You tremble.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Father says.

“Not a chance.” Rhodey says.

“Do not leave her side.” Father says then moves towards you to plant a quick kiss to the top of your head before he’s also gone out of sight probably to change into his suit.

“What’s happening down there, Rhodey?”

“It’s not good.” He states solemnly, “But we’ve got more skills than they do, though they have the numbers. We’ll have those soon though. Hopefully by morning.”

“Lord Fury?” You realize.

“Yes. He’s bringing every retired or decommissioned S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that he can find that is still loyal to the cause.” Rhodey says, moving to stand by the open window again.

You follow and gasp at the angle your room provides to the fighting.

There must be a hundred Hydra soldiers marching on the castle with swords drawn and shields up. A dimly illuminated mass of black disappearing to the left where you know they must be trying to storm the gateway.

As you watch, you occasionally see a flash of bright red and swirling magic that you don’t recognize or the blue flash of Thor’s lightning.

You strain to catch sight of Steve’s shield or the gleaming shine of his helmet and sword, but you can’t see any of them. You can only hear the battle only just out of sight.

“Distract me Rhodey, please or I might go mad.” You gasp.

“How?” Rhodey asks, completely on edge. He clearly wants to be back in the fight where he belongs.

“What is S.H.I.E.L.D.?” You wonder, having read the name a few times but never understanding what it was.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. was an agency created from talented knights and other individuals dedicated to the protection of every human life from those who would seek to corrupt or harm them. They dealt with all sorts of threat from military threats to those that were…special.” Rhodey explains.

“Magical attacks.” You realize.

“Yes.” He agrees. “But they were infiltrated by Hydra and we destroyed it. All of it. Many people lost their posts in that initial coup, but Hydra was exposed, and we prevented an attack similar to this one on a much larger scale.

“The bad thing about it is that Hydra retained many of the scientists, witches, and warlocks that have since created many strange and highly damaging weapons for them. The sounds of destruction tonight are a direct result of that.”

“How many do you think will come to our aid? Do you think it will be many?” You wonder, desperate for any sign of hope.

Rhodey is silent, busy thinking it seems to answer your question. Just as you’re about to press him, the doors of your quarters are thrown open roughly and you gasp, jumping behind Rhodey and shielding your belly.

Through your door moves a large—no—an absolutely massive form a green and rippling muscles. He’s without a shirt, body glistening with sweat and sporadic splotches of dirt and what appears to be dried blood.

On his left breast is a circular etching, a shade of angry red with strange and unfamiliar runes and symbols. His hands are also covered in what looks like dried blood.

Around his waist is a long layered dark plum set of pteruges, held together at the front by a heavy iron belt with three skulls to shut the clasp. His feet are bare and that’s where you look first.

With wide eyes, you follow the form up to its face where he huffs once then moves in further, frowning at the way you’re cowering into Rhodey’s side.

“Won’t hurt you.” The massive figure says, and then you realize who he is and why he’s there.

“H-Hulk?!” You gasp, surprised by his enormity.

“Queen of Flowers.” He states, smiling for a moment proudly before moving over to the fire in your hearth where he then pushes the chairs aside, making them scrape loudly against the floor. He sits down facing the flames, sighing with contentment before he reaches behind his head to scratch.

“Banner what are you doing here?” Rhodey asks.

“Hulk sent to watch Queen Flower. War Machine must go back to fight. Go.” Hulk says, ignoring that he’s addressed as Doctor Banner.

“I don’t-” Rhodey begins but you reach down to grab his arm and meet his masked glowing eyes.

“Go. They need you. Please make sure Steve is safe.” You beg, then release him so that he might go.

“Hulk, don’t leave her side until Peter gets here, do you understand?” Rhodey checks, staring at Hulk until he responds.

“Hulk understands. Queen safe. You go.” He waves him away as if he were an annoying fly before Rhodey sighs and moves for the window.

“If something happens,” He begins, “Pull the cord by the fireplace and it’ll let Pepper know to get one of us up here.”

“Okay. I’ll pull it if something happens. Go.” You push him a little towards the window and with one last look at you, he steps on the ledge then leaps out into the air.

He falls for several seconds before a burst of stunning blue light erupts from his hands and feet and he goes soaring towards the fight you can’t see.

“Hulk hungry.” Hulk says after what feels like an hour but must only be minutes.

“I’ll ask them to bring something.” You move to the cord by the bed and pull it. A few moments later, a maid appears looking frightened out of her wits. “Food please. D-Hulk is hungry. Bring lots.”

“R-right away, your Majesty.” The girl curtsies and hurries away to fetch what will hopefully be a substantial meal

“Hulk?” You try, moving to stand closer to him.

He grunts.

“What’s it like down there?” You eye the blood on him, torso, face, and finally hands. “is the fighting very bad? Shouldn’t you be down there to help them?”

Do you really need to be looked after like this? He could be doing more good on the ground!

“You don’t need to stay with me.” You whisper, attempting to persuade him for everyone’s benefit. “The maid will come back and she’ll stay so, shouldn’t you go fight again? You should help them. What if they’re-?”

“NO!” Hulk shouts, slamming his heavy fist into the ground making the stone and wood shift with crackles and creaks.

You jump, surprised by his booming voice.

“Hulk told to stay and watch Queen. Hulk will watch Queen. Keep Queen safe! Hulk’s job!” He huffs, quieter but still upset.

You gasp quietly, but he doesn’t miss it. He turns to look at you where you stand by the bed staring down at the ground by your feet where a small puddle of water grows as it flows, hidden beneath your skirts, down your leg and onto the floor.

“Oh my…” You squeak, suddenly much more terrified than you were a second ago.

[scullysexual]

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

You can read chapter’s One and Two here or alternatively you can read all three chapters on ao3.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @improlificinsarcasm @enigmaticxbee Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this!

- - - 

Chapter Three

She extends her hand instead and Mulder gawks at it before his own hand grips hers and they shake. An electric buzz goes through her- one she can’t say she’s ever felt before as she beholds the man in front of her.

She’d seen him before, earlier, near the gate, felt him staring at her and when he wasn’t looking, she’d stares back at him.

She didn’t believe in fate, it was just coincidence that they would meet again, after all they’re stuck on a ship- a big ship but a ship all the same, they’re paths were bound to cross again and probably again another time.

But that buzz. Dana couldn’t explain it, she didn’t think anyone could.

They break contact, arms falling back to their sides.

“Scully…” Mulder says, testing her name out on his tongue. It sounded weird to be called by her surname; she was Dana to her family, sometimes Dee to Charlie, and Girl for the family she’d worked for briefly in London, but never was she Scully.

She liked it. And she liked it coming from him.

“I saw you earlier,” she says. “Staring.”

He looks away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Scully shrugs, smiling slightly. “It’s fine. You get used to it.”

Mulder looks at her shocked. “I wasn’t staring because you’re…you’re…” He struggles to find the words.

“Poor?” Scully offers, not feeling as offended as maybe she should be.

He shakes his head quickly. “No! Because you’re…”

“Fox!”

Scully turns to find an entourage of people walking towards them. An older Mulder leads the pack as the rest follow.

“I thought you’d gone back to your room?” the older man says.

“I went to get some air, see if that would help,” Mulder explains.

Scully watches the scene unfold in front of her, her eyes flicking back between Mulder and who she can only presume is his father.

“Well, we’re all heading back now, perhaps you would like to come with us?” It wasn’t a question.

Mulder nods and Scully doesn’t miss the way they outwardly ignore that she’s even there. She’s not naïve to what the upper class, English upper class especially, think of her, of her country and her ‘outlandish’ ways so she stands in silence, glad to be invisible for this moment.

“Let’s go then,” the father says, reaching for Mulder’s arm.

Scully doesn’t miss the way Mulder tenses for a second then relaxes. She wasn’t always the best at reading people but she can see here that there’s no real relationship, no love, and as she watches the two she realises she has no affiliation with this type of dynamic. She may not of always seen eye-to-eye with her parents, her own father especially the older she got, but there was love there, that was one thing she had a lot of.

She watches Mulder begin to walk off, feeling for him in that moment and maybe he’d felt that sympathy, turning back to look at her, a sad smile across his face.

The next day brings Charlie dragging her down the corridor. He’d made a few friends last night it seems and he seemed anxious for her to meet one of them.

“Charlie, where are we actually going?” she asks, slightly annoyed, she had better things than be dragged down a hallway by Charlie.

“Hugo,” Charlie says turning back to her. “He mentioned last night that his daughter had come down with something and he was worried.”

Scully sighs, rolling her eyes. “So you mentioned me?” she huffs.

Charlie shrugs, stopping as they reach Room 52. “I just said I had a sister who was good at medicine and she might be able to help.” He knocks on the door twice then begins to walk away, Scully notices, catching his arm and pulling him back before he could go any further.

“You’re not gonna stay with me?”

“You’ll be fine,” Charlie says, taking his arm from her grasp. “Just do what you do.” He walks off then leaving Scully alone in the long corridor.

The door opens and a large man stands in the doorway, towering over Scully.

“You are Charlie’s sister?” the man, who Scully assumes is the Hugo her brother mentioned, asks.

“Aye. Your daughter is sick?”

Hugo nods, stepping out of the way to allow Scully into the small space.

A girl no older than eight lies in a bed, from where she stands Scully can see the sweat dripping down her face, hear her ragged wee breaths. Dana steps into the room, donning the Doctor Scully persona she’s already made up and walks over to the bed.

She sits in the space near the edge. “Hello. I’m Dana, what’s your name?”

“Agnes,” the little lass splutters.

Scully smiles, “That’s a pretty name.” She touches Agnes’ forehead feeling the heat radiating off her. Turning to Hugo, she asks, “How long has she been like this?”

“Three days,” Hugo answers holding up three fingers to indicate. “They said they would not let us on ship but we begged and we told them Agnes would get better but she has not.”

Scully nods, looking back down at the girl.

“Do you know what is wrong with her, Doctor?”

A thrill ripples through Scully to hear be referred to as a doctor. She pushes that thrill aside, however, there’s time to bask in that later.

She moves from the bed to the wash basin in the corner. Grabbing a cloth nearby she runs it underneath the cold water before rinsing it and returning back to Agnes, placing the cloth against her forehead.

She thinks back to the journals, to her own gathered knowledge of caring for Charlie when he was sick.

“It’s just a fever,” Scully says. “It’ll break soon and I’m sure Agnes will be back to normal.”

Hugo looks as though he’s about to cry. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, thank you.”

Scully smiles, warmth spreading through her. There’s a knock on the door then and Hugo’s sincere expression turns to one of confusion. He turns back to the door, opening it slowly.

On the other side stands Mulder ducking slightly in the short doorway and looking entirely lost.

Scully stands, dumbfounded at why he’s here.

“Mulder?” she asks.

“You know this man?” Hugo asks.

“He’s a friend,” Scully clarifies. “Take Agnes out to the docks as much as you can, the fresh air will do her some good.” Hugo nods as Scully leaves, her hand grasping Mulder’s as she pulls him away from the door.

“What are you doing down here?” she asks now that her attention isn’t divided.

“I was looking for you,” Mulder says. “Your brother said you were in Room 52 so…”

In his other hand, she notices he carries a black book. Still holding his hand she guides him along the corridor to the exit.

“Come on, you cannae be seen down here.”

They pass through the Galley on their way to the deck, many people gawking at Mulder and his fancy clothing on the way out. Scully tries to get him out of there as soon as possible but not missing Charlie’s frowning questioning look as she goes.

Once outside, she lets go of his hand.

“You’re a doctor?” Mulder asks, completely surprised.

Scully blushes, trying not to let it show. “Not really,” she admits. “Though I’m trying to be. It’s why we’re here, everywhere else said no so we thought maybe America would be better.”

It still pains her to remember the looks of disbelief she got when she went into the schools and hospitals asking for a place. Some had looked at her like she was seriously ill, others thought she was joking and some even laughed in her face. She was ready to give it all up, to sail back to Ireland and forget about it all, marry some farmer’s son and have some children, all until Charlie won the tickets.

“That’s amazing,” says Mulder. They begin they’re walk down the deck to the gate that separates third class from second.

Scully smiles, not quiet sure she’d heard the words right, and tucks a piece of her behind her ear.

“It’s worth trying, I suppose.” They pass through the gate, ignoring the incredulous looks the second class passengers give them as they witness the rules be broken so poignantly and a clearly first class passenger conversing with steerage.

“What’s this?” Wanting to steer the conversation away from her, Scully reaches for the black book in his hand. She gasps as her hand touches real leather, feels the material under her fingers tips.

“That’s not…”

She opens the first page and is completely taken away by the image that stares up at her.

A drawing of a girl between seven and nine stares back at her, her hair in pigtails and the biggest smile on her face as she jumps in the waves.

Scully stops frozen, staring at the drawing in complete amazement.

“Mulder…” she says, unbelieving what she sees before her. “Did you…did you draw this?” she asks.

Mulder nods. “I was eleven,” he says, redness forming on his cheeks. “It was the first one I drew.”

“There’s more?” Scully asks, wanting to see more of this beauty. She flips the page- an old man sitting on a bench in the park, flips another page- a girl playing with a skipping rope, a boy playing football. “Mulder, these are…” She flips more pages, finds more drawings, each one increasing in detail. “These are incredible.”

“Here,” he takes the book from her, sitting down on the bench and Scully follows. “Let me show you my favourite one.” He flips the pages further along, Scully catches glimpses of each piece of art, more and more impressed with his talent. He stops on a page that shows a woman sitting in a restaurant or diner. Mulder hands the book back to Scully and she takes it, staring at the drawing, all its intricacies.

“There was this restaurant in New York that we used to go to all the time and every time we would go there, that woman would always be there.” He points to the clothing. “See how her clothes are all moth eaten? I thought, maybe, something had happened to her husband and she went back to the first place they met, or the first place they had dinner together, and she was just waiting for him to come back. Waiting in that same spot, never moving, as the moths eat her clothes…”

Scully gazes at the drawing, lulled by Mulder’s voice and story, completely enraptured by all of it. See could see it. See the restaurant, see the woman as though she was real, see the story being true.

“That’s beautiful, Mulder,” she says, turning her head slightly to look at him, her heart filling up with something unexplainable for a stranger she had only met last night.

“Do you have anymore like that?” Before receiving an answer she flicks through more pages. She catches a glimpse of the next set of drawings, and a glimpse is all she needs before Mulder snatches the book away and Scully just Ohs.

“Sorry,” Mulder apologises, nervously. “You weren’t meant to see them. Nobody’s ever seen them.”

Scully doesn’t care though, she’s interested, having got a small peak at another part of Mulder’s mind, she wants to see it fully.

“Show me,” she says, daring him to.

“Are you sure?” she asks, the book clutched firmly between his fingers.

“I want to see them.”

Slowly he hands the book back to her. She reopens the page she was on and is met with a full-bodied drawing of a naked woman.

Scully isn’t jealous, she can’t be, Mulder is just a person she barely knows (but also knows everything about) and he’s entitled to his life, to draw who and what he wants, but while she looks at the drawing, Scully can’t help but wonder who this woman was to Mulder. Was she someone he once cared about? Or was she just something to draw? Scully glances to Mulder, hoping that empathy, that connection the two seem to have with each other, is strong enough to read minds, strong enough for him to answer her silent question.

It isn’t.

And it doesn’t.

Scully moves on, to the next page. This one a series of close-ups consisting of breasts and vaginas, but it’s the page next to it that Scully becomes interested in. A series of hands, some the same hand and others different, all from different angles.

“Why hands?” she asks.

“They tell who a person is,” Mulder says. “Like yours…” He takes her hand off the page, holding it close to his face. “I noticed they’re always clean.” He thumb runs along her fingers, gliding across her nails and sparks shoot through her, from fingers to toes. “And you cut your nails regularly. They’re soft, too.” He turns her hand over, palm now facing him as his thumb runs along there too. “Despite your poverty, you’ve never been forced to do hard labour.”

With his analysing done, Scully takes her hand back and looks at it.

“How wrong was I?” He asks, waiting for her to tell him he was very wrong.

Scully smiles, moved but slightly scared. “You’re not,” she whispers and a smile breaks across his face.

“You have a real skill, Mulder,” Scully says, she looks back down at the drawings. “You see people, for who they really are.”

“I try to.”

Scully stares at him, frustrated at how modest he is but also humbled by it. He honestly doesn’t see what a rare gift he has.

“What about you then?” he asks, taking the book back and closing it. “Aside from fixing people, what skills do you have?”

A mischievous smile appears across Scully’s face. Perhaps he’s expecting something along the same lines as his, but there is only one other skill Scully can think to show him.

She stands up. “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

Curiosity now replacing his modest expression, he follows Scully along the deck and through the final gate to first class, once again thrilled by breaking the rules but feeling completely free of the consequences. She finds the most secluded area and looks out towards the sea.

“Now,” she begins capturing Mulder’s full attention. “This is a skill that I’m very proud of.”

“Okay…”

She gives one last mischievous smile, fully planning on shocking Mulder, ready to gauge that reaction.

Just as she was taught, she gathers up as much spit as she can, puffs her lips out, pulls her head back and shoots forward over the railings as a ball of spit flies out into the ocean.

She looks to Mulder when she’s done, finds him completely awe struck.

“Miss Scully,” he admonishes with a smile and light of voice. “And I thought you were above your kind’s crude ways?”

Scully laughs, pleased with herself and pleased he isn’t offended by such a minuscule thing.

“There are some things I have in common with them. You try.”

He looks at her for help. “I don’t…?”

“It’s easy,” she says, shaking her head. She begins the process again. “Get as much spit as you can, gather it together, lips puffy, head back, swing forward and shoot.” Another ball of spit shoots into the air and falls into the ocean again.

Mulder tries, doing as she says, and his attempt is pitiful, most of it falling down his chin. Scully laughs.

“You can do better than that.”

She watches his second attempt, watches him try his hardest to get as far as her spit went.

Not quite there but better than the first time.

Lost in teaching him how to spit far, Scully doesn’t hear the group of people approaching, continues to gather spit, making less than appealing noises to do so, it’s only when she’s sees Mulder has gone rigid beside her that she stops and turns towards the four women who stand there.

“Fox?” The oldest woman says. “What are you doing?”

“I was just, um…”

The woman’s eyes fall to Scully, her gaze strong and unforgiving.

“Rules are set to keep order,” the woman begins to explain. Scully thinks she’s saying them to Mulder but her stare doesn’t weaver from Scully. “They keep things as they’re supposed to be, nothing out of place, nothing in the wrong place.” Her eyes move to Mulder. “You know that, Fox.”

Mulder nods. “I do, Mother. But I thought this could be an exception. See, I invited Miss Scully onto the deck.”

His mother’s lips pursue at the mention of Scully’s last name, a thin line forming.

“Scully.” The woman’s eyes fall back to Dana. “A very old Irish name, isn’t it?”

Scully shifts uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than any of the women to not acknowledge her presence, but she’s on their deck and that is a wish that is soon not to be granted.

“Aye, Ma’am,” says Scully.

“What does it mean?”

Dana thinks for a moment, her mind backtracking from it’s anglicised form to the Gaelic form and translated form.

“Student,” Scully answers, unsure of the relevance of this question.

The mother only huffs in reply.

“You know the rules, Fox.”

They make eye contact, her and Mulder, a promise that they’ll see each other again sometime.

“I need to get back to my brother anyway.”

As she goes to leave, she catches Mulder’s eyes once more. He glances down to his hand and her eyes follow. The book.

She leans closer into him, using her arm to conceal the book and takes it, quickly moving it in front of her.

“Miss Scully!” A younger, more clear-cut voice rings through the air and Scully turns, moving the book to behind her back.

“Yes?”

The youngest girl steps forward, standing next to Mulder’s mother.

“How would you like to join us for dinner tonight?”

“Phoebe…” Mulder whispers through gritted teeth, even Mrs Mulder turns to the girl in utter shock- the other two women stand watching.

Surprised too, Scully thinks for a second. “You want me to join you for dinner in first class?”

“Yes,” Phoebe says, a grin itching across her face. “My invitation since you seem to be a friend of Fox’s, I think it’s worth getting to know you.”

Scully knows how this works, knows she’s in a catch-22; she can’t deny this request but by agreeing she’s submitting herself to a night of humiliation and cattiness.

Scully supposes she’d just have to be catty back.

“Of course I will, Miss…?”

“Miss Green,” says Phoebe. “Soon to be Mrs Mulder.” Her left hand moves in front of her right, the gigantic engagement ring that could no doubt feed her and Charlie for years if they got their hands on it, shines on her ring finger.

Scully looks briefly to Mulder who, quiet accurately, looks away. The mention of a fiancé would have been grand, Mulder.

“Of course, Miss Green. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[authoressskr]

What Happens When You Don’t Listen

Characters: Gabriel, Sister!Winchester Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline, Balthazar, Gadreel   ::   Word Count: 1396   ::   Warnings: Language, Nudity (Not Described), Not Listening To The Woman In Their Lives, Subpar Writing and No Beta - The Usual

@sdavid09‘s Daily Writing Challenge - Prompt #11: “I’m sorry,” They snickered, “You got attacked by what?” (Prompt is Bolded and Italicized) 

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

When Dean, Gabriel and Sam went in before the rest of you to investigate what you thought was a succubus, you’d told them it was a bad idea.

Nearly a whole day had gone by without hearing from them, prompting you and the angels that were babysitting you to head down to Texas to see what the damn hold up was.

After flirting with the front desk clerk for the key and as much information as he could give you, which wasn’t a whole lot, you strut across the parking lot with a trail of angels flanking you.

“He said he saw them head out last night, around ten, just the three of them. But they came back almost two in the morning with several women.”

Balthazar and Cas exchanged a look over your head as you slide the key into Room 31.

Nothing prepared you for the sight inside though.

Sam’s long, lanky naked body was sprawled out on the closest bed to the door, with one foot brushing the floor.

Gabriel was lying stark naked and spread eagle on the floor, his left arm thrown over his eyes.

You could only see Dean from the nipple up, but he was grinning in his sleep.

You sucked your teeth as Jack stood at your right, face wrinkled in concentration.

“Why’re they naked?” He whispers, stepping a little further into the room.

“Probably because the succubus got to them. And from all the hickies and blood red lipstick covering all three of them, I guess they had a very good time. Lucky they didn’t get eaten.” You nudge Sam’s foot and when he doesn’t respond you make your way over to the kitchen sink. “Pitcher.”

“I don’t think that is the appropriate way to -” Cas begins, looking at his family spread around the room.

“Pitcher.” You repeat, Gadreel snapping to make one appear. You turn on the tap, thrumming your fingers against the cheap countertop as it fills. And once it’s full you head back to the door, standing over Big Brother #2 before thinking a second and setting the pitcher down and withdrawing your phone. After making your way around the room, making sure to get compromising pictures of all three, you return to your pitcher of water. You dump half onto Sam, watching him shoot up sputtering and reaching for a gun you knew wasn’t anywhere near before covering himself with his hands.

You carefully pick your way around Gabriel, heading for Dean who receives the other half of the pitcher of water.

“Sonofabitch!” Dean sputters, looking around wide-eyed until his green eyes fall on you. “Shit.”

“Uh-huh.” You reply before returning to stand in front of the door, arms crossed over your chest.  “GABRIEL!” You shout the archangel’s name before tossing the empty pitcher at his feet. He pops up with a deep groan, holding his head.

“Well, now that everyone is awake and, ya know - alive, I think we should discuss the case.” A look at Sam has him easing across the room towards Dean and their duffles, as Gabriel snaps, but only manages to dress the top half of his body.

“Fuck!” He mutters loudly, snapping again which only added a Sheriff’s Deputy badge and a military style cap with the same type of badge. You sit on the end of the bed Sam had been sprawled across as your brothers tug on boxers and flannels, raising an eyebrow at his additions to his outfit. “Listen, gumdrop…”

“Nah. I want to talk about the case. How’d it go?”

“We, uh, we went to the bar where we knew most of the victims had been taken from.” Sam begins, looking to Dean. “And then we started trying to figure out who it was.” He shuffles from one foot to another, wrinkling his forehead after he finishes.

“And then you don’t remember?” You guessed as Cas rolled his eyes.

“You should have waited for our assistance.”

“Yeah, they should have, Cas. But, hey, if we did anything like that...we’d be idiots and subjected to mountains of strained silence and disappointed looks.” You’re more than a little perturbed and you don’t attempt to hide it like you usually would.

“Look, you’re pissed - we get that…” Dean starts, gesturing with his hand towards you.

“I passed pissed around the eighth phone call to Sam.” You lean forward, putting your elbows on your knees. “Now, back to the case.” Gabriel keeps attempting to snap himself something to cover himself before looking exasperatedly at Cas, who ignores his pissy older brother’s looks.

“Once we got to the bar and narrowed it down, it’s honestly kind of a blur.” Dean sits on his bed with a heavy sigh, rubbing his forehead.

“Wait - wait I, uh, remember there was more than one?” Sam offers and even Jack is perplexed.

“But, Sam, all of the lipstick on your various bodies are the same shade.”

“Kid has a point.” You agree with a click of your tongue.

You think she’ll forgive me if I get her a puppy? Gabriel sends to all his brothers in the room.

Oh buddy, you are so, utterly, stupendously fucked. Balthazar answers with a chuckle.

I second that sentiment. Gadreel agrees, raising a doubtful eyebrow at Gabriel.

You’re an idiot, Gabriel.

“We were attacked!” Gabriel explained, covering his manhood once again with his hands.

“I’m sorry,” They snickered, “You got attacked by what?”

“Succubus triples.” Gabriel answers as Sam and Dean nod eagerly in agreement with him.

“Succubus. Triplets.” Gadreel repeats, looking over at Castiel doubtfully.

“Yes, Gadreel of the forever having a stick up your ass tribe, succubus triplets.” Gabe snaps out as you stand, holding your hand out to Cas who snaps a pair of boxers into your outstretched hand. You toss them at Gabriel, part of you gleeful you hit him in the face. He pulls them on quickly, since he can’t trust his grace fully before attempting his own puppy eyes.

“Seems like once you found that out, you should have called. Text. Angel radioed it in.” You pause, pursing your lips to think. “Emailed.”

“Smoke signals!” Jack adds as you nod approvingly.

“Jack.” Dean warns.

“I’m worried and I’m worrying them and you three are here getting laid!” Tears come to your eyes, out of anger rather than sadness. “Well,” You stand up, clenching your jaw to try to will away the tears. “I mostly just came to make sure you weren’t dead. And now you know what your up against, it should be easier to find them and deal with them.” Pulling three little hex bags out of your jacket pocket, you toss them onto the bed you’d just been sitting on. “I was up late after you left, digging up a spell with Balthazar’s help to keep you from suffering any effects of the succubus...But that was the call you ignored before you discovered the succubi, wasn’t it Dean? Oh well. I’m going home with Jack now, so be safe.” You slip your hand carefully into Jack’s and nod, disappearing from the room.

Gabriel groans, sliding his hand down his face.

“And I was so close to getting her to say yes to a date.” He slumps down into one of the rickety dinette table chairs, groaning again.

“Mmhmm. I would kiss that endeavor goodbye.” Cas observes before he bent down to pick up Sam’s cell. Eleven missed calls and twenty-eight texts. He tosses the cell to the younger Winchester, who looks down at it with a short huff.

“Dean.” Sam gives him the puppy eyes, Dean grabbing and tossing the cell into Sam’s duffle.

“We’ll apologize after we get the damn succubuses - succubi? - those three soul-sucking bitches.”

“You should apologize before.” Balthazar points out, picking up the badge Gabriel had snapped up and examining it. “Or don’t.” Gabriel glares at his little brother. “Since we’re all attempting to make our move -”

“Wait - all of you?”

“Your sister is very attractive, caring and seems to have gotten the better Winchester traits.” Gadreel answers, staring at Dean who is glaring back.

“That’s it.” Gabriel stands up with a shake of his head, “I’m getting her a puppy.”

“You’re still an idiot.” Cas mutters, Dean shouting “Oh hell no - there will be no puppy in the Bunker!” at Gabriel, before disappearing along with Balthazar and Gadreel.

“Corgi or Labrador?”

Yes, he got her a puppy...

Her name is Valkyrie, Val for short.

No, they’ve not been totally forgiven yet...

The Sequel: Clumsy

Tagging: @sdavid09 @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @sumara62 @clockworkmorningglory @lucis-unicorn @galaxiesinmymind @sakurablossom4 @chelsea072498 @keepingcalmisoverratedgoddamnit @ourloveisforthelovely

[bastardnev]

Steal Your Heart Ch. 1

so for whatever reason when i shared the first chapter it didn’t show up in nev’s tag, so im gonna repost it because i can (i’ll be putting chapter two in another post bc if i put them together then this post would be Too Long)

also i am SO sorry to anyone on mobile lmao

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, Professional Wrestling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wade Barrett/Pac | Adrian Neville, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added Characters: Wade Barrett, Pac | Adrian Neville, Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Thieves Summary: Random happenings in the lives of Wade, a detective, and Neville, a thief who took a liking to him and decided to tag along with him during his investigations.

Ch. 1: Buddies

Why could Wade never be assigned to a simple case?

Even though he had been busting his ass for years, Wade's rank as a detective was still fairly low. Maneuvering has way through Manhattan to get to the office was no easy feat due to the traffic and groups of pedestrians everywhere he turned, and it was a miracle that he even showed up on time some days. His efforts were constantly being overlooked by his boss, however, who was far too preoccupied with the higher ranked sleuths to pay attention to him. Wade was forced to watch his superiors be assigned the easier cases, the boss claiming that they'd been working 'far too hard' lately and 'deserved' something less complicated. The cases that they should have been given were handed over to Wade and everyone else who wasn't 'deserving' of a break, lack of qualifications be damned.

This time, a man had been murdered in his room at a fairly prestigious hotel in Miami. At first glance, it looked like the suspect was easy to pinpoint -- an ex-business partner was apparently staying in a room on the same floor. There were rumors that he had been jealous of the victim's success, going on record saying that he felt like he should have gotten that big promotion, but no one ever thought he would resort to murder. He was 'too nice of a guy' for something like that. Wade, however, wasn't buying such a cheap and overused excuse, and he was ready to bring the suspect into custody and call it a day.

There was more to this case, though, as Wade soon learned once he further looked over the file. Everything was far more complicated than it really needed to be. In addition to the rumors of the suspect's jealousy, there was also some speculation that a few members of the hotel staff were in on the killing. The victim had died due to poison, and it appeared likely that one of the workers had slipped something into his food once he ordered room service. Despite all of that, there was still no concrete evidence, and Wade was required to find irrefutable proof that they were involved.

To do so, he needed to go undercover, which he hadn't had to do in quite some time. Wade reserved a room on the floor directly below where the murder had taken place, pretending to be a delivery person who was staying in town for the next few days. It wasn't the best occupation that he could have chosen, but it was better than nothing. Better than being a murderer, that's for damn sure. Wade thought to himself.

The first day on the job was relatively uneventful. Wade's flight had been delayed due to poor weather conditions and he didn't arrive to the hotel until late in the day. All that he had been able to do was scribble down a few points in his notebook, outlining what he would do on the second day of the investigation. As of that moment, Wade was planning on keeping an eye on anyone involved in delivering room service. If he chose to believe the rumors that a staff member was involved in the poisoning, then the most appropriate choice of action would be to order food and learn just who he was possibly up against.

It was while he was plotting that Wade remembered that he hadn't eaten anything since he had gotten off the plane. It was too late at night for him to be getting room service, so he settled on a snack from a vending machine down the hall. He kept telling himself that he needed to start packing extra, more healthier snacks in his suitcase so that he wouldn't have to rely on junk food all the time, but in the end he couldn't be bothered. Besides, he loved Doritos too much to give them up.

The vending machine was in a small room that served as a sitting area of sorts. Wade remembered passing by it on his way to his room and spotting a few couches around a coffee table. He had made a note to himself to spend some time there once his work the next day was done, compiling whatever new information he had gathered. Hopefully no one would be there and he would be able to work without fear of getting caught.

When he arrived at the machine, Wade inserted the money and punched in the number for his chips, crossing his arms as he waited for it to fall down. Once it did, he crouched to get it, pausing when he saw the slot. How the hell was he supposed to get it open? He couldn’t push it in like he usually could.

“Who the hell designed this?” He wondered aloud, sighing frustratedly. The genius who built this damn thing should be fired. He was going to find away to get this bag even if it killed him. Trying a few more times to push the slot in, he gave it a light smack. “Fuck you.”

And someone laughed.

Wade jumped, hitting his head against the machine in a somewhat embarrassing fashion. This just caused the person to laugh again. Once he had composed himself, Wade stood up, turning to face whoever had been watching him. He found a man not too much younger than him sitting on one of the couches, covering his grin with his hand. Wade could see that there was a DS sitting in his lap.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but that was really funny,” the man said, giggling. “The machine tricked me up when I first got here, too.”

All Wade could do was stare at him for a moment. Aside from being embarrassed as hell at the fact that someone had witnessed the whole scene, he was also confused. How had he not noticed that someone was sitting there watching the whole time? “Yeah, it’s… it’s a pain,” he responded, averting his gaze and looking back towards the machine. “Stupid.”

“Here.” The man put the DS down on the couch and stood up. “I’ll get it for you. Watch and learn.” Wade watched as he crouched in front of the slot and pushed it down from the top, pulling out the chips and handing them over with a smile. “See? Easy!”

“You had to pull it down?” Wade’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah! A bunch of machines are like that nowadays.”

“Who decided that?”

“Someone who’s clearly lost in life.” The man made his way back over to the couch, plopping down and putting his feet up on the coffee table. He crossed his arms behind his head and asked, "So, what's your name? I'm Neville."

"Neville?" Wade repeated. If he was being honest, it was a bit of a dorky name, but Wade kept that thought to himself. Now wasn't the time to be rude. "I'm Wade."

"What brings someone like you 'round these parts, Wade? You on vacation or something?"

"Uh, not exactly," Wade replied. Whatever he did, he absolutely could not give Neville any hints about his real profession. "I'm a delivery person."

"You're a delivery person? Seriously?" Neville looked confused. He appeared to eye Wade up for a moment, his eyebrows quirking up briefly. "That's... interesting."

"Yep. I've got some, uh, packages and things to deliver in this area. I'll be staying here for a little while."

"How much do you have to do if you gotta stay in a hotel for a few days? Seems like a lot."

"Yeah, well... It's part of the job. I don't get a say in it." Wade shrugged. Now that he'd said it out loud, the whole 'delivery person' thing was the worst lie he’d ever come up with, and that was saying something since Wade had had his fair share of bad lies in the past. Neville didn’t even look like he bought it. His eyes were slits and he was pouting, deep in thought. Wade could almost see the gears turning in his head.

Then Neville snorted, a smile returning to his face. "Sounds wild. I'm a professional thief."

"Oh, that's nice--" Wade stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. "Hold on, you're a what?"

Neville shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal. “I’m a thief. I steal shit. Oh, son of a…” He was looking down at the red light on his DS. He switched the system off. “I need to charge this damn thing.”

Neville had already moved on to the next subject, but Wade still couldn’t believe what he had just been told. This man who he’d met only a few minutes ago just admitted to being a thief as if it were nothing, like it was a regular 9 to 5 job. How was Wade supposed to react to that? Seeing as he technically worked with the police, should he bring this guy in? Or should he let him go? Neville might not even be worth the force’s time.

“What’s with the look?” Neville asked when Wade hadn’t said anything for a little while. “You’re making a weird face at me.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Wade assured. “You… are a very interesting person, you know that?”

"I do know that, actually." Neville grinned cheekily. "And I'm also a pretty honest person. I don't feel the need to lie about my profession like you do."

Wade froze up, and he swallowed. How did Neville know that he'd been lying?! He knew that his excuse was lacking, but he didn't expect to actually be called out on it. "W-What makes you say that I'm lying, huh?"

"Because you are." Neville had begun to fiddle with the DS stylus, casually slipping it in and out of its slot. "I can tell."

"How?"

"Your badge is sticking out of your pocket. It has been the whole time."

"Are you serious?" Wade looked down. Sure enough, Neville was telling the truth -- his badge had been on display the entire time they were talking. Wade stuffed it back in, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets. "I, uh... Listen, you didn't see that."

"But I did!" Neville looked a little cocky.

"Neville, I'm being serious. You cannot tell anyone about who I really am, do you understand me?"

"Wade, don't worry. If there's anything that I'm good at, it's keeping things secret," he said. "How the hell do you think I've been living here for as long as I have?"

"Wait, you live here?" Wade cocked his head to the side. "How long have you been here?"

Neville thought his answer over, looking up towards the ceiling before looking back to Wade and saying, "About a month or so."

"How have you gone this long without being noticed? Does the staff really pay that little attention?"

"You would not believe the amount of unfilled rooms in this place. I just hole up in them and come out at night when no one's around. The patrons all think that I'm a really accomplished businessman since I always tell them that I'm here for a conference. They buy it every time."

"What about when someone reserves a room? What do you do then?"

"Then I move on to the next one. It's not that complicated." Neville stood up. "So, now that I've told you all about what I do, do you think you can fill me in about what your job really is? Pleeease?" He clasped his hands together, wearing puppy dog eyes. "If you have a badge, then it must be super interesting!"

"I really shouldn't..." Wade sighed, tapping his foot. Telling Neville the truth would defeat the whole purpose of going undercover. It was true that Neville had told him some pretty incriminating things about himself -- he admitted to a detective that he was a thief! Someone who was that brutally honest couldn't possibly have any malicious intent, could he? Besides, those eyes... Wade was weak for that sort of thing.

"Come on! At least tell me a little bit?"

"Well, if it's only a little..." Wade took a deep breath. "Okay, so you know that murder that took place here not too long ago? The one on the floor above us?"

"I know of it, yes. People were freaking out about it."

"I was sent here to investigate it, but I had to go undercover. The suspect is still staying here, and I need to gather information on him and a few other people who might be involved. There, are you happy now? I told you everything you need to know."

Neville pursed his lips, closing his eyes and crossing his arms as he processed what he'd just been told. "So you need to get some dirt on people, huh? Who else besides the suspect?"

"Some hotel staff members."

"Ooh, scandalous!" Neville rubbed his hands together, suddenly looking excited. "Lemme see the case file! I wanna know some names."

"I can't show you that," Wade said firmly. "That's confidential information."

"How do you expect me to help you if you won't even let me see the file?"

"You-- When did I say I wanted your help?" Wade's mouth fell open. "I never said anything like that!"

"Wade, I'm serious about helping you. This is a pretty big case. I've been staying here for awhile now and know the schedules of pretty much all the employees. If you need a second set of eyes to keep an eye on a suspicious staff member, then I'm your guy. So, what do you say? Are we buddies?"

"I'm not sure if 'buddies' is the right word to describe it..." Wade had to admit that Neville was onto something. There was no way that he would be able to keep an eye on so many people on his own. Even having just on extra person to help him would make things easier. Then again, could he really trust a thief? This definitely wouldn't look very good...

...Then again, his boss never gave a shit about anything that he did, so what would it matter?

"Fine..." Wade finally gave in, gesturing for Neville to follow him out into the hall. "Come to my room. You can read the file in there."

"Yes!" Neville pumped his fist into the air, hurrying after Wade. "Believe me, you won't regret this!"

"I'm sure I won't." Wade knew he would.

A day had passed since Wade and Neville were first introduced. Wade was seated at the writing desk in his room, his prior plans to work in the seating area thwarted by a family of five who insisted on hanging out there at that ungodly hour. It's too damn late for these little kids to be running around... Doesn't anyone have a bedtime anymore?

Wade tapped his pen against the page, propping his head up with his left hand. The second day of investigation bore a little more fruit than the first one, though Wade still didn't have any substantial leads to go on. After ordering room service for breakfast and dinner, all that he had learned was that the hotel had really good buffalo wings. Those things should be illegal... But I can't charge someone with murder for food.

He hadn't heard from Neville since last night. If he really only came out when it was dark, then that must mean that he spent the whole day lazing about in his room doing nothing. Why was Wade so worried about giving him the case info if he didn't seem to care too much...

Wade suddenly looked like he'd made a breakthrough, and he hurriedly wrote something down, smiling. He then crossed it out a few seconds later, frustratedly tossing down his pen. Those little kids aren't undercover spies, Wade. Get over the seating room thing and focus.

A knock on the door snapped Wade out of his thought, and he slammed the notebook shut. It wouldn't look very good if a staff member showed up and saw him speculating about their involvement in a crime. Then again, what would any employee want with him this late at night? He didn't order anything.

Then Wade remembered that there was only one person who would want to speak with him at that time. This should be interesting.

Wade stood up from his chair and went to unbolt the door. Sure enough, Neville was waiting for him on the other side, leaning up against the door frame with one hand and the other one on his hip. "Howdy," Neville greeted him with a wink.

"Alright, kid, what'd you find?" Wade stepped out of the way and allowed him to enter, shutting and re-locking the door. "Assuming that you actually found something and aren't just here to screw with me."

"I found out some top secret info." Neville leaned in close to whisper in his ear. "You ready? I learned... that this hotel..."

"Yes?"

"...has really good quesadillas." Neville pulled away with a cheeky grin.

"Are you kidding me?" Wade rolled his eyes, bumping Neville with his shoulder as he walked back over to the desk and sat down. "You're not taking this seriously at all."

"Oh calm down, would you? It's only a little joke to lighten the mood."

"Look, if you don't have anything relevant to add, then please leave." Wade came across a little harsher than he intended to. Neville didn't really mean any harm... Still, this was important. Now wasn't the time to be screwing around.

Neville sighed, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out some printed documents. "Okaaay..." He said, sauntering to the desk and showing the papers to Wade. "If you don't want me here, then I guess I'll have to leave and bring these with me."

Wade read over the contents of the papers. They were a series of emails, each one of them containing instructions.

Instructions about the murder.

"Holy shit--" Wade reached for the papers, but Neville pulled them away.

"You don't seem to want me here, so I'll just be taking these with me. Haaah..." Neville let out a dramatic sigh and slowly walked towards the door. "Maybe I'll catch up with you later."

"Hold on, kid!" Wade stood up again, grabbing his shoulder. "Where did you find those?"

"A thief never reveals his secrets." Neville winked at him from over his shoulder, but the look on Wade's face forced him to continue. "I, um, snuck behind the front desk when no one was around and printed these out."

"It was... that easy?"

"Mmhmm! You need to stop overthinking things. Sometimes the solution is right in front of you! Just like how I am right now." Neville patted Wade's arm. "But, y'know, you don't seem to want me here so... I'll be taking this back to my room with me."

"Nev, please. Stick around. I need that info."

"'Nev'?" Neville repeated, a smirk spreading across his face. "Is that gonna be my new nickname?"

"I guess." Wade shrugged. He didn't even mean to call him that -- it just slipped out.

"So am I like your little sidekick now? Are we... buddies?"

Wade took in a deep breath. He didn't really have much of a say in the matter, did he? He slowly let the breath out through his nose before responding, "We're... buddies."

"Hell yeah!" Neville grinned broadly and plopped down on Wade's bed, lying on his stomach and saying, "I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship."

"It's certainly the start of something, alright..." How does Wade keep getting himself into these situations?

[verratensduo]

The depths of one’s guilt/drabble(one shot)

Rules of the drabble

Likes and reblogs are okay, reposts are not

Do not steal my work and claim it as you own

This is nothing personal, these rules just exist to protect my writing from thieves. Tagging people who would like to read, or I hope would enjoy it. Oh and spoiler warning for anyone who does not want spoilers.

 @oilyraven @eren–gayger @likeahbraus @definitely-not-normal  @sugirandom @behutend @gemma53 @amusewonderland @freckledbodtsoldier @glitchcloud @speek-the-unknown @horsefaced-demon-from-hell @unfortunxtesoldier @bisexual-nishinoya @starrysparklesandshit @raw-ravioli @flxgelderfreiheit @deimpetueux @timid-warrior @salbelni

I hope you all enjoy this.

~Drabble start~

Everyone had surrounded Armin. The blond had just eaten Bertholdt and obtained the power of, presumably, the Colossal Titan. At least so logic would stand to reason. Eren ran right to him, hugging Armin’s body near his. He couldn’t believe this had happened. His best friend in the world, had almost died. Thankfully Levi had gotten some titan serum into him, at the cost of commander Erwin Smith’s life. So many people where surrounding Armin as they waited for the blond to wake. They wanted to know exactly how it felt to become a titan shifter, and what he remembered from the events leading up to it. Would he remember anything at all?

Everyone jumped when Armin suddenly woke up all panicky. He thrashed about as if in some sort of danger. It took both Eren and Mikasa to finally calm him down and get him into a sitting position. He sat there with a look of complete and total horror on his face.  As if he had witnessed a life time of atrocities within the last few minutes alone. Eren was completely and totally shocked by all of this. And he wasn’t the only one, Jean’s face grew  paler by second, especially after the horrible revelation about how Marco died.

The poor boy had overheard Reiner and Bertholdt talking about how Bertholt had done a good job at kicking the wall down. They tried to pass it off as a joke, but the freckled male hadn’t bought it. They stole his three d maneuver gear and left him for dead. After hearing that, both Eren and Jean shot off in opposite directions, tears streaming down their cheeks. Neither seemed to intend to return to the group at any point.

“Eren! Jean!” Armin and Connie yelled simultaneously, preparing to shoot off after them in pursuit of their angered and sorrowed comrades. They where not about to let them be devoured by the titans in a weakened emotional state. 

Levi stepped in front of them. “Enough both of you, Eren and Jean are big boys. They can take care of themselves,  They need time, not pity and people telling them not to mourn or trying to keep them from being human. They both have excellent awareness, leave them be for now.” The boys didn’t protest. They knew Levi had a point. Eren and Jean had always been more independent, but nobody had seen Eren actually legitimately cry out of anything other than anger before, and those sure as hell didn’t look like angry tears. 

The brunet landed on a roof, alone thankfully. He now allowed sobs to accompany those tears. He was feeling a mix of emotions. Anger, fear, hatred, sorrow, guilt, and several others he could not quite describe even if he tried.

“Damn it! If only I hadn’t lost control of my titan form, if only I had been stronger, or quicker, if only I had not been so careless I could have prevented his death! He would be safe with the MP right now!” Eren yelled pounding his fist to the roof tears rolling faster with more sobs between.

He started to get a familiar feeling in his stomach, working it’s way up to his throat. “Oh god, not now, any time but now.” He thought as he tried to hold it back.

His tears, however, had other and quite different plans for Eren, and they definitely where not what he wanted. He went to sob, but it turned into a heave. And out it came.

The vile, disgusting, offensive taste of his own vomit filled his mouth. He coughed between moments, tears still flowing hot, with some sort of emotion which he could not describe with his own limited vocabulary, darn  his bad eye site and lack of time to actually study. He wished he could describe this, despite the vile taste in his mouth and the constant pain of pushing the vomit out of his system.

He was relieved when that torture finally came to an end. His tears kept rolling, an d he sobbed, the after taste was unbearable, it only made this memory worse. He was now thinking back to every one that had died because of him.

“Mom, I was to weak to move the wood piece. Thomas Wagner, Mina Carolina, Mylius Zeramuski, and Nac Tias, I led them to their deaths with my terrible leadership. Petra Ral, Eld Jinn, Gunter Schultz, and Olou Bozado, I killed them with my indecisiveness. And now I know, Marco Bodt, I killed with my lack of control.” His thoughts echoed as he continued to cry and sob, another dry heave and more vomit came out, just chemicals this time, he had nothing left in  his stomach to push out.

He managed to stop again, still sobbing, and barely able to keep his body from collapsing down into his own vomit. The scene really looked quite grotesque, there where tears dropping into the vomit Eren was almost laying face first in, and there was mucus leaking out of his nose, running down his face, dripping from his chin to the roof. Almost as if he where a walking bag of contamination he was releasing every disgusting nose and mouth fluid known to man. Ironic, as he hadn’t ever gotten sick since before he joined the cadet corps, probably thanks to the effects of the titan serum on his body.

“Oh quite it Eren. That is more than enough, on top of making a mess, you look like a mess.” A familiar voice sounded behind him, causing him to freeze up. He processed the sound of the voice, it took a few moments, but he turned around, his face looked like hell, it was disgusting, eyes red from crying, mucus on it, vomit had splashed onto his cheeks. “Clean your face up while you are at it.” The person standing before him continued.

Eren wiped his face as instructed, not like his clothes had feelings, but his eyes where glued to the face standing above. “N-No....it....it isn’t possible.....y-you can’t be here......Y-You died back in Trost.” Eren thought, but was unable to speak. He looked at that face, a face that he could never get out of his memory, not that he would ever want to forget it.

“M-Marco!” Eren ran at the freckled male to hug him. Maybe this was all just a horrible nightmare, maybe he would wake up and be in his barracks, with Thomas, Armin, and Marco trying to wake him up for combat training, something which was the only thing he was the best in, but was always late for it. Then, he went right through the freckled male. 

Marco sighed. “Eren, I am happy to see you too, but unfortunately you cannot hug a ghost. It is most impossible. I am not made of hard material anymore. I was bitten in half in Trost remember?”

Eren felt his eyes water again. “I know, I just got hopeful that somehow this had all been a horrible nightmare, and that it would end very soon. I guess I have no such luck.”

Marco had a hard facial expression, something that appeared almost foreign to Eren. Then the ghost spoke again. “Eren, do you have any clue why I am here? Any clue what I have to say to you?” 

Eren’s knees started to knock together. Fear was evident in his eyes, and tears started to roll again.  “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose control Marco. I know you should be here, just like my mother, just like Thomas, Mina, Mylius, Nac, Petra, Eld, Gunter, and Olou. I’m sorry. You deserved better than what you got. You all did.” He whimpered.

“Eren, shut up.” Marco gave him a harsh look. “My death is not even a fraction of why I am here.” The freckled ghost had another purpose entirely for this little surprise visit. Which of course left Eren wondering what this blast from the past meant. It was a few moments of a silence before the void would once again be filled. “Eren, I am here because of what you said, taking the weight of those deaths, including my own on your shoulders. It isn’t healthy, it will harm you, not help you.”

Eren had only a broken, defeated look in his eyes. As if he had given up a fight on his inside a long time ago and just accepted it. “But they are my fault Marco. My mom died because that would plank, and my inability to move it. Thomas, Mina, Mylius, and Nac died because I led them right to the slaughter like lambs. You died because I could not control my titan form. Petra, Eld, Gunter, and Olou all died because of my indecisiveness, it is very much so my fault Marco.” The answer was almost....rehearsed, as if he had practiced saying this before. 

“Eren that is not it at all!” Was the snappy reply from the freckled ghost. How could Eren think like this?

“It is Marco! I could have saved all of them. If I had just been stronger, smarter, faster, smarter....”

Marco could only feel frustration as Eren said this. “Eren that is only partially true, is it possible you could have saved us in that case? Yes, but you’ll never know now! Stop living in what if.”

Eren shook his head. “I would have! There is no way I wouldn’t have!”

Marco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had hoped not to take this. “Okay Eren, I will tell you what I really think, are you sure you want to hear it?”

The titan shifter’s eyes said no, but his mouth wished to tell a different story. “Yes, please Marco. I need to know.”

The ghost’s expression suddenly changed, and became dark. “I do think it is all your fault Eren. Tell me Eren, why did I have to die? Why did I have to die instead of you? Why did your squad have to die for you Eren? Why did your mom have to die for you? Why couldn’t you just give in and die? Why did so many others have to take or your place? Why couldn’t you have just stayed dead? Why did so many have to die trying to help you?”

Eren felt tears rolling faster now. So this was how Marco really felt.....at least he was being honest, even if it was brutally so.

The expression became harsher as the fallen freckled cadet continued. “I think you are the worst kind of person  Eren, a coward that fakes bravery. I was one too, the difference is I didn’t let people die for me, or lead people to death senselessly.  If I am being honest, I hate you Eren Yeager.”

Eren was bawling at this point. Once again he was a total mess. “Why would you say that? Marco, please, please, please, please, please don’t hate me!” He pleaded with the freckled angel? Ghost? What ever the heck he was now.

The ghost face palmed. Of course, Eren was not all that bright, he should have known that reverse psychology would never work with Eren. This was a stupid mistake that he could not afford to repeat.

“No Eren, I did not mean that. I am sorry. I was just trying to get you to see how stupid you sound. I promise I don’t hate you.” The freckled one tried to console the shifter as he started to fade.

“I don’t have much time left, I should have told you sooner, but here, this is a message, from all of us. Dwelling on the what ifs was never meant to be done, please, for all of us, especially your mother, try to stop blaming yourself for our deaths.” Marco pleaded.

“I-I will.” Eren said tears rolling down his cheeks again. He would ask for more time, or to see his mother, but that would be selfish of him. They where supposed to be resting for a reason, their time in hell was over, so now they got to sleep in the stars.

Soon the ghost was gone, as if it had never been there. All that stood on that roof now, was Eren Yeager, staring at the sky as the rain came to wash away the filth his fit had left behind, and washing away all evidence that Eren had ever been crying, or that he talked to anyone.

[idmakeitbehave]

Play Along

Summary: Spencer’s being pursued by an annoying, rather persistent woman at the bar and he needs a way out. Cue his perfect escape plan- you.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: literally nothing, just absolute fluff

Spencer looked anywhere but at the woman next to him. He could feel her eyes on him as she persistently tried to buy him a drink, her hand reaching up to touch his shoulder. He grimaced, trying to shake her off as politely as he could. This woman was just not getting the hint. She had been following him around the bar for the last fifteen minutes.

Spencer turned to look at her, quickly ascertaining that she had to be ten years older than him, at the very least. She wasn’t necessarily unattractive, statistically speaking, but the way she drunkenly leered at him as her nicotine stained fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt made him wince.

Leave it to fucking Morgan to harass him into a night out and then be twenty goddamn minutes late. He wouldn’t have come if he had known this was going to happen- he had barely come at all.

Spencer’s eyes darted all around the bar, looking for an escape. All of his attempts at politeness had failed to deter this woman- he needed another plan. He considered just calling it quits and leaving, but Morgan had texted promising that he would be there in twenty minutes. Something about getting stuck with paperwork from one of his latest renovation projects.

Finally, he saw you on the other side of the bar, all freckles and slight smiles. You were flipping through a book, a notebook and pen sitting beside your half-finished drink. You looked to be alone and seemed harmless enough.

Spencer stood up from the bar suddenly, turning away from the woman next to him.

“Where ya going, angelface?” she slurred at him, pulling at his tie slightly.

Spencer yanked the tie from her hands. His patience was wearing thin. “Found my girlfriend,” he replied tersely, crossing the room at a quickened pace. He tried, and failed, to make his mind stop overthinking what he was doing. He could feel the older woman’s drunken gaze following him as he walked away.

Spencer slipped into the booth that you were sitting in, moving close. You looked up at him, mouth opening as if about to say something.

“Can I ask you a really big favor?” Spencer whispered, cutting you off before you could say anything.

Continue on Ao3

[idmakeitbehave]

This I Know {Spencer x Reader}

Chapter Three

masterlist

series table of contents

summary: you’re finally released from the hospital. time to go… home? wherever that is.

word count: 2.0k

The snow-covered trees zoomed by, blurring in the distance. You leaned forward in the passenger seat and pressed your nose against the glass as you studied the outside world. The doctor had released you earlier that morning, expressing hopefulness at your recovery.

Spencer was taking you home- to the apartment you shared together. You had balked at the thought at first, the notion of sharing a home you didn’t know with this man you barely knew, but you had warmed up to the idea. Just the sweet look on Spencer’s face put you at ease. If you were going to remember your life, the one you shared with him, this was a step you had to take. And oh, how you desperately wanted to remember. The hours you had spent yesterday with him and Penelope, laughing together and looking through old photographs just strengthened that desire.

Your life before, as you had come to think of it, had been fine, pleasant almost. You were not particularly close to your family, having cut off contact with the majority of them years ago for a handful of reasons, and you had only one or two people you would even consider friends. You had a job you thoroughly enjoyed and you were friendly enough with your coworkers, but you had never considered them more than close acquaintances. These people, the one in the photos, they were different. You were sure of it.

The idea of the two lost years still shook you, but the thought of these strangers, these friends, anchored you. You had the job you had so intensely wanted, you had a team that you appeared to be undeniably close with, and you had a brilliantly beautiful boyfriend who apparently loved you. What a good life to stumble into.

Spencer parked the car and you got out, closing the door softly behind you. You stared up at the apartment building with wide eyes. “We live here?” Spencer nodded nervously, clutching your bag in his hands.

You followed him through the doorway into the apartment. The familiar scent hit you, the smell of… home? You looked around frantically, eyes trying to take in everything all at once.

“Welcome home.” Spencer shifted from foot to foot as he watched you gazing around the apartment. You walked immediately to the large bookshelf, and he almost laughed at your predictability.

You ran a finger along the spines of the books, noting which were familiar and which were not. There were a good deal in other languages, and you realized that they had to be Spencer’s. He really was an entire genius.

Spencer continued to observe your exploration with a small smile as he put on the kettle for tea. It looked almost like you were looking for something in particular, though he had no idea what it could be.

You turned away from the bookshelf, looking instead at the small end table that sat besides the couch. It was a hollow, wooden thing, and you pulled the lid off almost automatically. “Aha, here!” You triumphantly pulled a thick book out from inside, a large volume of works by Edgar Allan Poe. The book was well-worn, dogeared in places with passages underlined here and there.

“How-” Spencer’s wavering voice broke you out of your trance. “How did you know that was in there?”

You looked up at him slowly, your eyes wide. “I… don’t know,” you admitted. There was a moment of silence as you stared at each other, the heavy book still in your arms. The tea kettle whistled and he turned away from you, into the kitchen. You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware that you were holding.

This was a lot. You had no idea how to explain to Spencer that you knew the book was in there. You didn’t know why you knew, but you just did. It was like there was something deep inside of you telling you exactly where it would be.

You set the book down, determined to return to exploring the rest of the apartment- your apartment. The rest of the living room was unfamiliar, though it captured that same homey feel. You wandered down the hallway to the bedroom and cracked open the door tentatively. Your heart caught in your chest at the large bed in the middle, clearly slept in on only one side. You supposed you had known deep down that the two of you shared a bed, but it didn’t hit you until it was right in front of you.

The side with the rumpled blankets was Spencer’s, that much was obvious. You sat down on the edge of the bed. There it was again. Vanilla.

You eyed the bedside table on his side. There was a framed photo of the two of you, a birthday cake in front of you. Spencer had frosting on his nose and a luminous smile. You grinned mischievously next to him, frosting on your finger as it hovered dangerously close to his face. Next to the photo sat his watch, a wallet, and a small stack of books.

You turned to the other side of the bed- your side. Your bedside table was messier, a similar stack of books on it. There was a purple lamp, magnets attached to the base. Beside it sat a small dish of rings and earrings. You picked up the dish, thumbing through the jewelry. You recognized a few of the pieces, but there were some new ones there. A garnet ring caught your eye and you held it between your fingers, studying it. It was beautiful, a simple silver band adorned with an engraved leaf.

“That’s from me,” Spencer spoke softly from the doorway. You turned to him and he had a small, almost nostalgic smile on his face. “Orange garnet, because we met in October. And for our shared love of fall and all things Halloween.”

“Oh man,” you exhaled. “I do love Halloween. Wow, Spence. You’re a true romantic.”

His face flushed red and he stammered a little at your words. “Tea’s ready.”

You followed him back to the kitchen, turning side to side as you walked, trying to see everything. This was your home. You didn’t recognize it, didn’t know it, and yet somehow it just felt right. It felt right in a way that your Atlanta apartment never had. That apartment was just a place for you to keep your things, to lay your head down at night. This felt different, like it was so much more.

Spencer motioned for you to sit down at the kitchen counter, and you perched on one of the red gingham stools there. It was adorable, exactly your taste.

He caught you looking at them. “We picked those out together at the flea market.”

You smiled, turning your attention to the grocery list on the counter. You recognized your own handwriting, but there was another set of writing, slanted and slightly wobbly. The domesticity of a shared grocery list tugged at your heart. “Oh my god, you have genius handwriting.”

Spencer let out a deep breath as he sat down beside you.

“What?”

“You- you always say that.” His eyes were watery as they met yours and you offered him a small smile. He handed you a cup of tea, warm beneath your hands.

You recognized the mug instantly, it said World’s Greatest Dad on it. “Oh wow, I still have this! This was a gift from-”

“Mia. Your best friend from the Academy.” Spencer finished for you, smiling almost apologetically at interrupting.

“Oh,” you whispered. Of course he knew that. He must know everything about you. The thought of someone knowing you so intimately unnerved you, but you took one look at his eager face and immediately felt at ease again. This was what you had always wanted, had always dreamed of. Sharing a life with somebody who accepted every part of you without reservation.

You talked and laughed together easily over your cups of tea. Spencer told you stories that made you snort with laughter, and you loved the gleam in his eye as he watched you giggling. There it was again. That same, strange urge to keep that look on his face forever.

Day turned into night, and, after curling up in the dim light with a much-loved book, you moved to stare out the living room window, curling into the loveseat. The apartment- your apartment, you reminded yourself- was on the third floor, and you had a clear view of the night sky.

“What are you looking at?” Spencer’s voice was soft again as he watched you gazing out the window.

“The stars.” You shifted in your seat, making room beside you. “Do you want to sit with me?”

Spencer nodded, sitting down cautiously, trying to keep some space between the two of you on the tiny sofa.

You turned back to look out the window. “The stars are the same. That’s what I keep reminding myself. I woke up in a different place- in a different time, for fuck’s sake. Everything about my life is different. But the stars- they’re the same stars here as they were in Georgia.”

Spencer sighed, leaning back on the loveseat. “‘The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.’”

“Carl Sagan,” you noted with a nod. He grinned at you, nodding minutely. You stared at his face for a second, again studying his bright hazel eyes, his sharp bone structure, his cute button nose that you noticed he scrunched up from time to time. You looked at his full lips, noting that he seemed to often lick them before he spoke, his tongue darting out quickly.

You didn’t know this man. And yet, somewhere deep down, it felt like you did. It felt like you had known him all your life. You shook your head at the impossible thought and turned your body towards him. “Can I- can I touch you?”

Spencer swallowed, and you noted proudly how he licked his lips as he did so. You were right. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He nodded silently instead.

You reached up your hand slowly, bringing it to rest on his cheek. He inhaled sharply at the touch, eyes closing. You traced his cheekbone with your thumb before moving your other hand to the other side of his face. The two of you sat like that for a moment, his face held in your hands. The room was silent, the air still. It felt like both of you were holding your breath. You trailed a finger down his nose and across his lips, the other hand studying his jawline. You could feel his breath on your face, the scent of vanilla intoxicatingly close.

“You really are beautiful,” you whispered, your voice shaking. A tear slid from his eye, and you wiped it away instinctively. His eyes fluttered open, and the sudden eye contact shook you. You stared at each other as tears welled up in your own eyes. One slipped down your cheek. Spencer reached up and wiped it away, mirroring your motions. This familiar, comforting touch broke the dam, and suddenly you were sobbing.

“I- I want to remember you,” you stuttered, your breath catching in your chest. “I want to remember you more than anything.”

Spencer began to cry harder, the tears coming fast down his cheeks. You laid your head reflexively on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in close. As your sobs subsided, you felt the exhaustion wash over you and your eyes closed as your head dropped to his chest and you curled tighter into Spencer. You felt the vaguest sensation of fingers running through your hair as you drifted off to sleep and it felt as though you had been there many times before.

“I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes.“ -Vladimir Nabokov

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[idmakeitbehave]

Punch Drunk in Love

Summary: You’re lost in a haunted house, hiding from a clown, and ready to lose it when something grabs your arm. You hit them instinctively, only to realize the person you’ve just punched isn’t the clown at all. Oops.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: just fluff and like maybe 3 swear words

You were not scared.

You were not scared.

You were not scared.

Alright, so you were terrified. And a really goddamn bad liar. You cursed yourself for ever thinking it was a good idea to go to this haunted house with Connor and Ryan. Not only had you been a third wheel to their sickeningly adorable couple from the very beginning, you were fairly certain they had ditched you to go make out somewhere like a pair of lovesick teenagers.

Now you were alone in this stupid goddamn house. Not even a house, more like a mansion. You were all for Halloween and ghost stories and even true crime, but you had to draw the line somewhere. And it turns out, that line was being abandoned in a ridiculously creepy, actually old as hell, maybe even legitimately haunted mansion.

You crept through the long hallways, muttering under your breath. Of course neither of the boys were answering their cell phones. Very convenient. You had managed to hold yourself together for a little while, but you soon realized you were lost. It didn’t help that you kept hearing footsteps and seeing shadows in your peripheral. This was all a part of the gimmick. You repeated that thought to yourself, but it didn’t help much. Walking through the halls, you passed flickering candles, stupidly realistic ghosts, and someone dressed as an evil clown. That last one did it for you, causing you to turn on your heels and bolt in the opposite direction.

You stood in a darkened corner, completely alone. Even looking around, you couldn’t make out any other guests, much less any creeps in the night. Your entire body was tense, and you had no idea how to get out of this maze of a house. You had just decided to make a run for the next corridor when you heard slow footsteps behind you and quiet breathing. The fucking clown. If it was the fucking clown you were going to scream. There was suddenly something touching your arm and you spun around quickly, your hand straight out in front of you. Your fist connected with something hard- not exactly what you had expected upon hitting a clown costume.

“Ow.”  

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the offender, only to realize it was not the clown at all. Standing in the dark in front of you was a tall, lanky man. He was wearing an orange cardigan and an adorable tie dotted with bats, definitely not the outfit of someone trying to terrorize you in a haunted house. You snapped out of your stupor of staring at this handsome man as you realized his hand was holding the side of his face. The face that you had just punched.

“Holy shit, holy shit. I am so sorry. Oh my god.” You spoke quickly, panicking. You had just punched a random stranger in the face.

The man laughed quietly as the shock on his face wore away. “It’s okay, it was my fault for sneaking up on you.” He pulled his hand away from his cheek and you saw blood. Your ring. You hadn’t even realized that you had hit him with the hand that was wearing the ring.

Your mouth dropped at the cut on his face, feeling even more guilty. You rummaged through your bag, pulling out a packet of tissues. “Oh my god,” you repeated. “I am so sorry. Please don’t kill me.” You pressed the tissue to his cheek instinctively to stop the bleeding, only realizing how far into his personal space you were when you heard him inhale sharply. You stepped back, the bloody tissue still in your hand. “Fuck,” you muttered. “I’m doing the absolute worst right now. Let’s start over. I am really sorry for punching you in the face. That was totally not cool of me.”

Continue on Ao3

[authoressskr]

Misery Business

Pairing: Dean x Reader  ++  Warnings: Language, Mentions of cheating, Lisa Braden (Does that count?)  ++  Word Count: 1712

This was written for @idreamofhazel Hazel’s Throwback Challenge. My given song was: Misery Business by Paramore.

Note: Do NOT repost, copy and paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION. -+- REBLOGGING is fine! -+-

A/N: I rewrote this twice. This is the version that sucked less. Enjoy! 

When she’d left home for college on the west coast, she had kissed him in the airport, stunning not only himself but their combined families.

“Couldn’t leave without doing that.” Her smile was infectious - making a slow, wide one creep onto his face to mirror hers before his big hands came up to cup her face and pull her into a deeper kiss, ignoring the loud coughing of her dad at this development.

“That’s how you kiss someone goodbye, kiddo.”

“Noted.” Licking her lips, her eyes shifted over to Sam with a promising smirk. “Wanna say goodbye to me too Sam?” Dean’s lips were on her again, firm and chaste as his arms pulled her tight against him.

“Don’t even think about it, Sammy,” Dean muttered afterward, Sam rolling his eyes as Dean released her - watching her hug his parents and then her own as she fought back tears.

“I’ll see you guys at Christmas for sure.” She promised before handing her ticket to the clerk and with a short wave, boarded the plane and flew off to her new adventure.

---

When she’d come home for Christmas, her bright eyes landing on him as Dean entered the house for dinner that night - having been dreaming of coming back and falling into his arms - was suddenly dashed as he tugged a petite brunette into the house behind him. His eyes had dropped when they’d met your own, slightly ashamed. Turning promptly around and heading back into the safety of the kitchen, you ignore your mother’s questioning looks, simply pointing to the living room as you tug on your snow boots and then grab your heavy jacket, fighting back tears once more.

“When I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth.” You mutter to yourself, heading towards your best friend’s house as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks.

---

She’d gone without saying goodbye.

Hadn’t even answered his texts or calls.

He didn’t mean to...Lisa just came into the shop one day. And the one night stand turned into a few times a week sex and then into something else.

Sex with Lisa was good. Really good. But, Jesus, dealing with Lisa had been an experience. Dean couldn’t blame her for liking the nicer things. He liked nice things too, but, the shit she was always pointing out constantly - Dean couldn’t even hope to afford at this point in his life. A few weeks later, she suddenly wants him to move in with her and her five-year-old son, Ben. They’d compromised by him spending Friday through Monday at her condo, which was nice at first.

Everything was nice at first.

Then it evolved into subtly dropped hints that her grandfather’s factory needed some help. And “Besides, you don’t want to work as a mechanic forever, Dean,” mentioned a few times.

That morphed into “Granddaddy said he’d be willing to bump you straight to a supervisor since you’re taking care of his baby and Ben.” Three months later: “I don’t see why you won’t take it, Dean. It’s more than generous. Being a mechanic will never pay you as well as this will” and finally to “You’ve only been staying with me because you got attached to BEN?! I can’t believe you, Winchester! I am NOT money hungry! I want a lifestyle, Dean. One you’ll never man up and provide me and Ben with. Get your shit and get out, please.”

Pretty fucking harsh words from a woman who cheated on him...

---

When his kiddo finally came back home again, she’d granted him one wary look at the airport arrival gates before dropping her worn, purple carry-on and wrapping her mom in a crushing hug. Dean could hear her say how much she missed home and them as she reached out to repeat the process with her dad. Giving everyone else a bright, but slightly watery smile, she linked arms with her mom as they all left shuffled out of the airport.

After they’d all eaten lunch, she’d gone upstairs to take a short nap - hoping to help rid her body a little of the Dramamine she’d needed to down to combat the motion sickness. When his sharp ears had heard her moving around upstairs, he headed up. Pausing a second to take a deep breath, Dean knocked on her bedroom door.

“Got a minute, kiddo?”

“Sure.” Her body language said she clearly didn’t want to speak with him, but Dean wanted - no, needed - to lay everything out for her. Best to start simple though...

“How was school?”

“Fine. I took an extra class and it kicked my ass.”

“Don’t overdo it, princess.” Dean shook his head with a wry smile. “And don’t try to compete with Sam. Dude was born an overachiever.” Okay, she’s smiling - now or never. “I, uh, I broke it off with Lisa.” She just raised an eyebrow before looking down, fiddling with the throw tossed over her legs.

“I can’t lie to save my life Dean, you know that.” Nodding, even though she isn’t looking, trying to guess at what she was going to say next as he attempts to calm the sudden rapid beating of his heart. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Lunging forward, hands pulling her as close as possible while lips molded to lips. “Same, kiddo, same.” Dean smiled, stupidly happy at the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

---

You’d transferred schools after that, deciding that the University of Kansas, Lawrence was just as good - grumbling in defeat that yes, your father had been right. Yes, dad, it was easier to be at home. Yes, dad, I should have listened to you initially. And cue good-natured eye roll.

When you’d been in Oregon, you had kept mostly to yourself. Your days consisted of going to your classes, going to the library and then going to your dorm room. Which was usually empty due to your hippie-light roommate, Paisley, crashing at her brother’s apartment nearly every evening. However, being that alone had made your homesickness at least double, so transferring had been an easy decision. Did dating Dean significantly added to the ease of that choice? Yes.

You had waited until your semester was up to switch schools, which had been a long three months. And to celebrate getting everything signed over, you were having lunch with Dean at Lafitte’s Bar and Grill, close to his dad’s mechanic shop. After you two ordered, you saw Charlie - part-time bartender and lifelong friend - behind the bar, excusing yourself to chat with her until the food arrived.

That’s when Lisa sauntered in, her eyes almost immediately landed on Dean, raking over the snug heather gray shirt (the one you’d bought him) that fit oh-so-nicely. You were leaning against the bar when she’s nodded her bright red-head towards where Dean sat. Quirking your head to one side before turning your eyes widen to a near-comical level. Well damn, you had to give Lisa one thing - she had balls to chat up the very loving, very loyal man whom she cheated on.

“Long time, no see,” She cooed behind him, placing a tanned hand on his strong shoulder as he turned, his food-lust-filled gaze at the arrival of his burger snapped quickly to tight and uneasy.

“Lisa! Uh, yeah. Long time.”

“You know, Dean, I’ve missed you.” Oh, you bet your sweet ass she did. You thought as you pushed away from the bar and eased up behind her.

“I’m seeing someone.” Dean shuts her down, giving the burger that’d just been placed before him a long look at it that made you smile.

“We don’t even deserve a second chance?” Dean’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer.

“Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change. Once a whore, you're nothing more, I'm sorry that'll never change.” She whipped around to face you, her three necklaces tangling in her hair as her eyes burned into your furiously.

“What did you say to me?!”

“Well, there's a million other girls who do it just like you, you know? Looking as innocent as possible to get to who they want and what they like. But you fucked up and suck your fingers in too many pies, Lisa. You had Dean Winchester, a grumpy teddy bear of a man whose loyalty knows no bounds, and you decided that wasn’t enough?”

“You know what, little girl? You’re a class A bitch!”

“But God, does it feel so good!” You call after Lisa as she storms out, sitting down across from Dean with the smuggest of smug grins on tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Benny!” Dean calls over his shoulder. “Box!”

“What are you doing?”

“You verbally handed Lisa her ass. I’m taking you home to fuck you senseless for everything you just said.” Benny appears from the kitchen, tossing Dean a box with a shake of his head and a deep chuckle. “Don’t drop this.” Dean shoves the box into your hands as you wrinkle your forehead. Why would he want you to - oof! He tossed you over his shoulder, earning a startled cry and then an eye roll as he waved to Benny and Charlie. “Add it to my tab!”

He sets you down more gently in the passenger seat of his ‘67 Impala than you thought he would, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before closing the door with a crooked smile gracing his handsome face. Once he’s slid in, the key in the ignition, he stops to look over at you with all the adoration and love you’d glimpsed a handful of times before.

“What?” Your voice is soft, searching his face for some hint.

“You. You make all my wildest dreams come true.”

“I never meant to brag, buuuuuut - ya know - I am the complete package.” You slide over until you’re pressed firmly against his warm side, his emerald eyes are so bright and, at the same time, so soft as they lock with your own. “Wanna go make some more of your wildest dreams come true?”

“Fuck yeah, baby.” He manages to get out prior to your lips meeting for a quick, hot kiss - the car rumbling to life before he pointed her towards his apartment.

Tagging: @lucis-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @idreamofhazel