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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Note

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

#i call this fic how many commas can i use in one sentence?#i think this is by far the most crack thing ive written #poor jess #in this house we worship and praise jess the secretary and her thrity second cameo in that ONE scene #if u see a typo no u didnt #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts

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iliterallydecepticanteven · 2 years

Text

Material Mech Chp. 2: Fresh Claws

Here, have some more of Megatron being a Material Girl 😌💅✨ You know those claws have to be a nightmare to keep up with but it's worth it 💅

AO3 link here and link to Chapter 1 on tumblr here

The labs always have a chaotic energy to them, even more so now that Blackarachnia has claimed Bumblebee as a lab assistant and Bulkhead is trying to configure his ground bridge tech.

Optimus hesitates for a moment before walking in. The doors swish open and immediately he’s hit with a combination of heat from the machines, the noise of glassware clacking against glassware, a hint of chemical fumes, and music quietly playing on the speaker.

Blackarachnia is hunched over one of the lab benches, a beaker on a hot plate before her bubbling every time she slowly drips something into it. Bumblebee is watching her from where he’s scrubbing test tubes at the sink and Bulkhead is focused fully on something in the fume hood.

He walks towards the femme. Without looking up, she says, “What do you want.”

“I need the reports from the Opulus soil samples,” he said, “and I also need to know how much longer those shuttle fuel additive purity reports are going to take.”

“Purity reports will be done by tomorrow morning, so long as someone doesn’t cross contaminate all the reagents again,” she says, not so subtly shooting a glare at Bumblebee.

He rolls his optics at her. “Not my fault someone put a dirty scoop back in the drawer.”

“Actually it is,” she replied, setting the dropper back into its bottle and standing up straight, stretching as she did so. “Finish this for me. Add in the remaining acid slowly.”

Bumblebee abandons the half cleaned tubes in the sink, taking her place as she walks to the back of the lab, waving for Optimus to follow her. He did so, noticing the large board on the back wall as they passed it. To do was written at the top with a series of checkboxes with tasks beneath it, all various things to be done like Empty chemical waste and Check that scales are working. The boxes were checked with either purple, yellow, or green.

“Can I assume you’re all getting along?” he asks carefully as she walks behind her desk, rummaging through a shelf in the back.

“Eh, more or less,” she replies as she grabs a stack of datapads and dumps them on her desk. “I like having help in the lab, even if it does talk back and contaminate twenty kilograms of silicon powder with magnesium chloride. Still better than working with Oil Slick or any of those glitches in the Academy. Oh, you can take a seat. This is gonna take a cycle.”

He sat down in the chair across from her, looking about the office. She had gotten it a little under control since the last time he had been in there. The datapads that had been strewn about on the floor were now on the shelves behind her or put into neat stacks in the corners. Her desk, save for the datapads she was shuffling through, was clearer, with styluses kept in a tin by her console and what he suspected to be wire scraps morphed into a tiny jet.

The board along one of the walls, which had been covered in indecipherable nonsense the last time he had been there, now had clear columns for reminders on executing experiments, reports to be written, chemicals and equipment to order, and upcoming meetings. He spotted Bumblebee’s scribbled handwriting along Blackarachnia’s own neat print.

“Ah-ha! Found it,” she said as she held a datapad out to Optimus. He snapped out of his thoughts, taking it and turning it on to double check it was the right one.

“Thank you,” he said. “Anything I should know about before I hand it over?”

“Most of the soil is severely lacking in nutrients and needs to be replenished before the next round of energon farming,” she said. “Of the thirty-six samples we were given, Bulkhead and I agreed that we can only recommend five plots for immediate farming. All others need some form of nutrient replenishment. He included his recommendations in the report.”

He looked up to ask her a question but stopped when he saw Blackarachnia look over his shoulder. “What do you want, my liege.”

He turned to find Megatron standing in the doorway, looking between the two of them. “Sorry to interrupt. I came to ask if you have a dremel with a 240 grit bit?”

“For polishing, grinding, or sharpening?” she asked.

“Sharpening and polishing,” he replied.

She stared at him in confusion for a moment, about to ask what he would need a dremel set for before it dawned on her. “For claws?”

“Obviously,” he replied, sounding almost insulted she would think he would need it for anything else. “Is the mechanical lab open?”

“Yes, and if you give me just a moment, I’ll show you where I keep the bits and sealant,” she said. She turned back to Optimus, asking, “Do you need anything else?”

“No, this is good,” he replied.

“Wonderful. Purity reports should be done by tomorrow morning,” she said, walking around the desk and into the hallway. He followed her, watching as she walked with Megatron down the hall, away from her lab, saying something about how he needed to clean up his dust when he was done.

He didn’t see Megatron again until later that evening when he dropped by his quarters with the most recent financial reports and two energon cubes.

As he was handed his, he immediately noticed the change in Megatron’s digits.

“Did you sharpen your digits?” he asked, staring at them as the mech slowly pulled his servo back.

He smiled smugly and splayed them out in a display. “Yes, I did. They were getting rather dull and I can’t have that happening. I could have gotten them sharper if she had told me where she stashes the Seekers’ dremel sets.”

Optimus set his cube to the side and grabbed one of Megatron’s servos, pulling it closer for inspection. The ends had been filed and polished to a pristine tip that poked into the pad of Optimus’s digit when he pressed down on them. He could also see a sheer shine to them that appeared to be the same color red he accented himself with but diluted so as not to be obvious against the metal.

“How often do you do this?” Optimus asked. He had come to learn that there was this weird custom surrounding flyer’s digits that grounders did not participate in. He had seen the seekers picking at their own digits before and had noticed how Slipstream hid metal files around the flying practice room for herself and the other clones to use. He could even faintly remember Blitzwing whining about his own claws after the first battle the Decepticons had aided them in.

“Whenever they get dull or the polish wears off. Whichever comes first,” Megatron said, offering his other servo for Optimus to inspect. “You know, you could sharpen your own digits as well.”

“I don’t need that,” he replied, inspecting the offered servo. He had already been talked into getting a full strip and replacement paint job. Knock Out had at least been willing to do a low shine coat instead of the high gloss he had tried talking him into.

Megatron frowned and twisted his own servo around, capturing Optimus’s and splaying his digits out. The mech protested but Megatron ignored him, instead holding his digits up to examine.

“They certainly don’t need to be sharpened completely,” he said, inspecting them. “But putting an edge on them could give you an advantage during battle. And a nice sheen would be good for looks and practical for keeping grime out of the joints.”

Optimus thought to protest for a moment before considering it. Getting the paint job redone was nice, both in that it looked good and the fresh clear coat cut down on drag when he was flying.

“I’m free tomorrow after the meeting with the Elba representatives,” he said hesitantly.

Megatron smiled and released his servos. “Perfect. Now, we do actually have to review the financial reports so they can be officially approved.”

He handed him a datapad and Optimus began reading through it, occasionally stealing a glance at Megatron’s digits. They were actually quite nice.

Bonus:

Blackarachnia had walked into some weird slag during her time as a Decepticon. Everything from accidentally seeing three ‘Cons interfacing in a storage closet to an assassination attempt to Oil Slick ruining all her experiments. She had since learned that the most dangerous thing aboard any Decepticon warship was not any of the soldiers, weapons, or chemicals. It was a closed door.

So, as a habit, and to protect her optics, she left every door without a window in it in her part of the lab complex open unless she was doing something that was a fire hazard or involved corrosives. And even then, the second she was done, she opened the door back up.

So when she saw that the door to the mechanical engineering lab, a door she remembered programming to stay open, was closed, she hesitated for a long moment.

She began mentally running through places where she could get a ⅜ wrench that wasn't the lab in front of her. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anywhere else and they really needed it in the main lab.

Blackarachnia took a deep ventilation and walked within range of the sensor.

The door slid open and she was hit with the sounds of a dremel and the smell of metal shavings. Which wasn’t a bad start, all things considered.

She walked in and turned to her left. Megatron stood at the one of the lab benches, a dremel in one servo and Optimus’s digits in the other. Optimus sat across from him, inspecting the servo not being worked on. They both looked up when she walked in, surprised to see her there.

They all stared at each other for a few clicks before Blackarachnia remembered the mess she had to clean up yesterday after Megatron was done with the dremel.

“The vacuum is right there,” she said, glaring at him and pointing at the shop vac on the far wall. “Clean up your metal shavings this time, my liege.”

“Tell me where the Seekers stash their 3000 grit dremel bits and I’ll consider it,” he countered, turning back to Optimus’s digits.

She glared at the side of his helm. That dremel set had been a gift to Slipstream that she alone used. There were other sets that the other Seekers used as well, but she had been asked by the femme to keep them hidden away and she was trying to be nicer so she did.

Blackarachnia said nothing as she walked around behind Optimus, getting into the toolbox by him and pulling out the wrench she needed. As she passed by, she glanced down at his digits, pausing to admire them.

“They look really good,” she said before leaving the lab. She missed how her compliment made Optimus gleam and Megatron smirk.

#tfa #transformers animated #megop #tfa megop #megatron #optimus prime #optimus #blackarachnia #bumblebee #my writing #as always don't take this too seriously

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officer-calhoun-official · 2 years

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Everyone’s clocked out now except for the real keeners. I managed to keep the place from burning down, so... I guess it’s a job well-done. I don’t really know what this means for the future. I’m still hoping I’ll wake up and I’ll all be a bad dream, one of those nightmares you wake up from and need a few minutes to cry about, but you can still go about your normal day after.

God... where are they?

I wanted to be alone for this, so Gordon let me go. I need to be alone for this. I need to just see the places that remind me of them, that will always remind me of them, and be alone to feel what I do. I walked the maintenance tunnels, thinking of all the times I’d wave to Jamison on my security rounds, she’d probably be covered in grease and working on something or other that had broken. We didn’t say much to each other before that day in the Bio labs, but she was always here, she was a constant, she was a presence I could rely on, and I never thought she’d be gone unless she retired by choice. But even then, I could still see her... still hear that laugh, see her smile, the way it just lit up a dark maintenance tunnel when she’d throw it at you, make your day a little less grating. I’m never going to take anyone in my life for granted again, I’m never gonna assume I’ll have all the time in the world to get to know them. Because now she’s gone, along with her smile, and her wave, and I’ll never get the chance to get to know her again. She showed me so much kindness and patience yesterday, she told me she was excited for me... I want her back, I want her to see how bad things are without her. Maybe she’ll come back if I could tell her. But thems the brakes, ain’t it? Dead women tell no tales.

That walk took me here, to Mikey’s office. I’ve spent all day here, taking calls I didn’t know the scripts to and dealing with administrative people I had never met before, who had no patience for the new guy who was holding himself together by a thread. They kept asking after him: “where’s Harding? Harding knows how to do this, why can’t you do this like Harding? Just put Harding on the phone, you’re useless!” I had to break the news to about 7 different people, is what I counted by clock-out. I’ve held myself together all day in here, and I hate to say that I hate it because of that. This place used to be a safe haven, a place where we could go and know that the guy behind the desk would understand us, would listen to us, would always know exactly what to do, no matter how fucked the situation was. I can’t be that guy, Mikey. I’m flying blind here. I’m sorry I couldn’t make you proud... I’m sorry I can’t fucking look at this shit anymore after today, I just-

Y’know what? Fuck this shit! I never asked for this! I never asked for you to put me in this position! You fucking PLANNED this, didn’t you?! The timing is too goddamn perfect, you set up that specimen breach because you KNEW I’d be there, you’d have an excuse to promote me! And then you could DIE on me, and ABANDON me just like my REAL dad did! But you didn’t have the fucking balls to be as blatant about it as dad did, you were too much of a coward to just say you couldn’t stand the sight of me or give me cigarette burns like a REAL man! So you get me promoted, and you go ahead and DIE knowing I’d be stuck in the most miserable position of my fucking life! Well, you got your revenge for the crime of my existence! YOU WON! ARE YOU HAPPY N-

...What’s this? This looks like yesterday. There’s machine grease all over my face and in my hair, and Jamison and Mikey are laughing about it with me. That was when I had crawled out from under the maintenance tracks after Jamison showed me how to do basic repairs on them and wanted me to demonstrate. We all thought it was funny, and they got one of the other engineers to take a photo. I didn’t think he’d print it, let alone frame it... this... fast...

Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Mikey... I didn’t mean to blow up like that, I didn’t mean to t-trash your office... Here, I’ll clean it up again, I promise! I clean up the messes I make, see? You can still trust me, you still made the right choice! I can handle it for both of you, don’t worry! I’ll-I’ll find a way, I’ll figure something out. Let’s just get this chair back up, and... holy shit, I need to sit down. I really need a hug from you, guys. Can I please just have a hug? Just one? Please? I’ll give anything for one hug, to just see Jamison’s smile again and hear Mikey’s voice telling me what to do, just one more time. That’s all I want...

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imagines4thefandoms · 3 years

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F*K idk what to name this (Leroy Jethro Gibbs x reader

Word count:4k+ um by bad

summery: Y/n come back from vaca looking different. will it change Y/n and Gibb’s relationship?

requested: no

"So how was your vacation," Ziva asked.

"Great, i saw my family and i only wanted to shoot myself once," you replied.

The elevator doors opened and y’all walked to y’all’s desk. Tony and McGee looked up from their desk and welcomed you back. You walked to your desk behind McGee and put your stuff down. You grabbed your bag of souvenirs and walked over to Tony.

"Welcome back (Y/n)," Tony said. "What did you get me.”

"Tony my nephew is more mature than you and he is five," you said throwing a tie and a baseball to him.

You walked over to Ziva and gave her a purple scarf and match hat. McGee caught the new computer game you got him.

"How this game isn't out yet," ha asked.

"My brother in law works for the company and he owed me a favor.”

"Thanks (y/n)," Tim replied.

You walked over to your desk, grabbed the coffee cup you got Gibbs and filled it at his coffee shop for him and placed it on his desk.

"Welcome back (l/n)," Gibbs said walking into the bullpen and sitting at his desk.

He threw away his empty coffee cup and looked at the one on his desk. It suddenly got a little too hot so you took of your NCIS hat letting your hair fall from under the hat. You looked around the bullpen and noticed everyone was staring at you.

"What is something on my face," you asked.

"Your hair," Tony stated.

"Oh right. My baby sister is in cosmetology school,” you explained running your hands through your now red hair. “She needed to practice for her test and I drew the short straw. It was supposed to wash out by now but she mixed up her temporary and permanent hair dyes,”

Everyone kept staring at you even Gibbs which was weird but they stopped when Gibbs’s phone rang. Tony and Ziva were looking at Gibbs while Tim and you were grabbing y’all’s bags but when you turned around Gibbs was still looking at you. He grabbed his gun and shook his head as he hung up the phone.

“Lets go. We have a dead marine in a park,” Gibbs said leaving the bull pen.

We all followed Gibbs to the elevator. There was this tension in the air once the elevator doors closed. Gibbs usually was so comfortable around you. The two of you were the closest out of the team; but now he was avoiding you. When the elevator doors opened he couldn’t wait to get out; of course he could just want to hurry up and solve the murder of the marine. Tony and Tim raced to the car to get shotgun but when they opened the door Ziva sat in the seat.

“To slow boys,” she said buckling her seat belt.

Gibbs as always drove while you were sandwiched between DiNozzo and McGee. The drive consisted of Tony playing with your hair, Tim messing with some gadget, Ziva was asking you questions about your vacation. Gibbs was silent the entire drive but he kept looking at you in the rear view mirror; but every time you locked eyes he quickly looked back on the road. Once you got to the crime scene everyone got out and you put your hair up in a pony tail.

The park contained a large grassy plain, a decent sized play ground for kids, and two acres of trees. The marine was one the bench in his civilian clothes. The marine was Sargent James Brian McMatthews. Aside from the fact that he was dead, he looked heathy. Sargent McMatthew didn’t have any obvious wounds explaining how he died. Ducky pointed out the same thing.

“Jethro I can’t tell you how this poor man died til I get him on my table. You know that,” Ducky said.

“Thanks Duck,” Gibbs said.

Before Gibbs even had to tell you, you decided to look around the area for clues. As you were looking you noticed Ducky call for you. Ducky gave you a hug once you got to him. Jimmy was bringing McMatthews into the back of the Medical Examiners van when he stopped and looked at you.

“Your hair (y/n),” Jimmy pointed out.

��My little sister did this,” you replied twirling your hair around your finger.

“It suits you my dear. I’m curious has Jethro seen your new hair do,” Ducky asked.

“Yes but he has been acting a bit weird this morning,” you informed Duck.

“Well it’s nice to have you back my dear, but I must go I have an appointment with Sargent McMatthews,” Ducky said giving you another hug.

You went back to looking around the crime scene to look for evidence. While looking around the trees your saw a foot print. You measured the show print and took pictures but before you could look around more Gibbs called you.

“Did you find anything,” he asked.

“Just a foot print about 2 klicks west of where the Sargent was found,” you informed your boss.

He gave you nod and walked away. After about twenty minutes you and everyone else collected all the evidence you could and headed back to the office. This time on the car ride you got shotgun while the three musketeers sat in the back. Tony as usual was speculating on how Sargent McMatthews was killed, while Ziva slapped him because he was insensitive.

“Hopefully since we collected a bunch of clues at the crime scene we can solve this crime fast,” you said to no one in particular.

“Clues,” Gibbs asked looking at you sideways.

“Sorry evidence. I have spent a whole week watching nothing but Scooby Doo,” you said holding your head in your hands.

“Zoinks,”Tony said laughing.

Ziva slapping Tony while Tim was hiding his laugh hoping that Ziva didn’t slap him too. Gibbs looked over at you and gave you a small smile. You could just tell that you were not going to live this Scooby Doo thing down. At the office, Ziva and I brought the evidence down to Abby while Gibbs when to see Ducky and Tony and Tim were gathering information on the victim.

“(y/n) you're back,” Abby yelled as she ran over to you. “And your hair. It’s hot.”

“I missed you too abs,” you replied hugging her.

“So besides the hair. What’s new Scooby Doo,” abby asked laughing.

“Seriously. Was it Tony or McGee.”

“I can’t reveal my source.”

“My guess is Tony,” Ziva said placing the evidence on the table in the lab.

“Just let us know when you have something Abby,” you asked as you left the lab.

“I always do,” she called.

Once the elevator doors closed Ziva asked you what Scooby Doo was. After explaining that it is a kids show about solving mysteries she let out a small laugh. You laughed along with her. Ziva and Abby have become like your sisters and no mater what happens you can’t stay mad at them.

The two of you joined DiNozzo and McGee in the bull pen. They found out that the sergeant worked at the Pentagon.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a difficult case, RUH ROH” Tony said mockingly.

Gibbs walked into the bull pen with his cup of coffee and slapped the back of Tony’s head. Gibbs told him to stop messing around. Tony then shared all the information that him and Tim found out. James B McMatthews was married with three kids and was a part of something very top secret with the Pentagon. McMatthews has no record, no affair, not even a speeding ticket.

Gibbs’ phone rang and it was ducky telling him that he had some information for him. Gibbs looked at you and motioned for you to follow him to Ducky. As y’all got into the elevator, Gibbs yell ‘Someone tell me what the hell he did for the Pentagon.’ The tension in the air formed again when the elevator doors closed. You glanced at Gibbs from the corner of your eye. You always noticed how attracted you were to your boss but when you joined his team you swore to push that thought out of your head. It helped that he had those Gibbs rules. Rule 12: Never date a co-worker. As the doors opened on the floor the morgue is on you instantly hear Ducky call Gibbs name.

“Hello again miss (y/n). How was your vacation,” Ducky asked now that the two of you were not at an active crime scene.

“Duck, the body,” Gibbs said before you could answer.

“Right. Well this young man had no visible injuries. No cuts or bruises or even a broken bone,” Ducky said walking over to the body.

“So how did he die,” Gibbs asked monotoned.

“At first glance I couldn’t find any reason for this poor man to end up dead at a park. Upon my second look over the body I noticed this little puncture along his hairline. It seems to be from a needle. Besides that, there is nothing wrong with this man. It’s like his heart just stopped.’ Ducky said covering McMatthews back up.

Before Gibbs could ask ducky if he knew what was in the needle, I got a text from abby saying, ‘I know what was in the needle 😱🎉.’ I showed the text to Gibbs. He thanked Ducky and we headed up to Abby’s lab. When the doors opened on abby’s floor, she was standing right there and grabbed both of our hands and pulled us into the lab.

“First, Gibbs don’t you think that (y/n)’s new hair makes her look hot,” abby asked.

“Abs,” was all Gibbs replied with.

“Fine, later. Well this footprint found at the scene did not belong to our poor sergeant. It’s from a side 13 shoe.”

“The indent looks weird. The pressure of the foot print is lighter at the tip of the shoe then the rest of the print. Who ever was here was wearing shoes that were way to big for them,” you pointed.

“Correct, you get a Scooby snack,” Abby said handing you a cookie.

“You bet I do,” you said taking the cookie and taking bite of it.

“Can you tell us the actual shoe size of the person who was standing in those bushes,” Gibbs asked.

“how dare you doubt me. No Scooby snack for you. It’s a size 9. Oh and after Ducky found that puncture wound and swabbed the area. The swab didn’t give me anything but I got to thinking of what could have been in that needle so I ran his blood again.”

“And you found a match.”

“Yes I did Gibbs. Batrachotoxin. From this cute little guy,” abby said making a picture of a cute yellow frog pop up on her computer screen.

Gibbs kissed Abby’s cheek thanking her and he stole a cookie before we walked out of the lab. After another slightly awkward elevator ride, we walked into the bull pen and Tony had just hung up his phone.

“Boss, I call about his file but they said they have to personally read us in.”

“Okay. Ziva you look up where a person could get their hands on Batrachotoxin while DiNozzo and I will go to the Pentagon while McGee and (l/n) will to talk to the wife,” Gibbs ordered as he grabbed his gun and jacket.

“I guess the gang is splitting up,” McGee joked.

Before Tony could make another Scooby Doo joke, Gibbs was already in the elevator and Tony had to hurry up because Gibbs wasn’t going to hold the doors for him. McGee and you left after y’all got McMatthew’s home address. When we got in the elevator, you looked at McGee and took a coin out of your pocket.

“Head you drive, Tails I drive,” You said before flipping the coin in the air.

You caught the coin and flipped it on the back of your hand. After looking at the coin it showed that Tim was gonna drive to the Vics house. Of course since Tim was driving it also meant he had control of the radio; which wasn’t awful but after having to only listen to Disney for a week you needed to hear your own music.

It took a while to get to the McMatthews’ house. There were three kids playing in a gated front yard with the front door open. Once Tim pulled up to the house the kids stopped playing and ran inside. One minute later a woman came out trying to find out why her kids ran in scared.

“Can I help you,” she asked walked towards us.

McGee and I held up our badges announcing that we were NCIS. She opened the gate and lead y'all inside her house. The kids stayed inside so Mrs. McMatthews closed her front door. She lead y’all to the liver room and when into the kitchen and brought back two cups of coffee. Before we started talking, one of McMatthews’ daughters came up to you.

“Are you Ariel,” she asked me.

I looked over at McGee and gave him look to let him know that I was gonna keep the kids occupied while he talked with Mrs. McMatthews.

“Yes I am,” I replied to the little girl.

She grabbed my hand a pulled me away. We walked out of the living room and up the stairs to a door with the name Sarah on the door. She pulled me into her room and went to her closet to grab something.

“You’re my favorite princess,” she said holding out a little mermaid costume.

“Why thank you, Sarah.”

“Where is Eric?”

“Oh um he is back at the castle working.”

She nodded her head like she totally understood and then asked you to play with her for a bit. After about fifteen minutes, McGee came into Sarah’s room looking for you. You turned to Sarah and told her that you had to leave. She walked with the two of you downstairs and before you walked out of the door she called out “tell flounder I said hi.”

McGee told you about his conversation with Mrs. McMatthews and how James and some guy named Andrew Ferguson had gotten into a fight two days ago about something at work. On the ride back to the office you and McGee were messing around and speculating what the vic could have been doing for the pentagon. McGee thought it had to do with some secret weapon while you suggested something more plausible (aliens).

“Aliens really, you spend too much time with Tony,” McGee laughed.

Back at the office, you and McGee decide to split up the work. While he looks into Ferguson’s military life, looked at his personal life and tried to figure out what they were arguing about. Gibbs and Tony returned from the pentagon as you were combing through Ferguson’s financial records.

“What did the wife say (l/n)?” Gibbs asked standing in front of the tv.

“She told McGee about a fight the vic got in with a guy names Andrew Ferguson,” you responded pulling up a picture of A. Ferguson.

“We pulled his military records but there is nothing on his record,” McGee added pulling up his military files.

“He doesn’t even have a parking ticket. But I was going though his financials when you got back,” you informed Gibbs.

You were combing though his financials when Tony and Gibbs pulled up the files they got from the pentagon. Apparently Sargent James was on a classified team of people teaming up with the NSA and CSA to monitor a major rebel group in the middle east that has ties to ISIS. Ziva came into the office and let Gibbs and the rest of the team know what she found on the toxin. The name Jonathan Whitlock was mentioned.

You were half paying attention when a weird charge appeared on his account. There were multiple weird changes from a offshore bank accounts. You sent the charges to the tv and walked over to where Gibbs was standing and took the remote from his hands.

“There are some weird charges in Ferguson’s bank account. They started about 18 months ago and if my math is correct it adds up to 150,000 dollars,” you reported clicking though the evidence.

Gibbs grabbed his coat and pointed to Ziva and they left, you guessed, to pick up Ferguson. While Gibbs was out, you went down to see Abby. As soon as you got off the elevator, abby pulled you into her lab and she sat you down in a chair.

“So, how was your vacation and why is your hair red,” abby asked sitting in a chair in front go you.

“It was fun. It was nice spending time with my family. And my little sister in in beauty school and she needed practice,” you explained to abby.

The two of you caught up, and abby told you about what happened while you were away. Which wasn’t much just normal stuff like Tony being stupid and teasing McGee and flirting with Ziva, and Gibbs started another boat. The two of you just sat in the lab eating “Scooby snacks” til you got a text from Gibbs telling you to meet him in interrogation.

You left abby and went to go meet Gibbs. Once you got to the observation room you saw that Gibbs was in there with Ferguson but they weren’t talking. Gibbs looked at the glass and you just knew that he was telling you to go in there with him. You exited the observation room and went next door. After walking into the interrogation room, you took a seat next to Gibbs.

“So why were you and Sargent McMatthews fighting two nights before he was murdered,” Gibbs asked.

“We weren’t fighting. It was just a heated argument. Coworkers do it all the time,” Ferguson defended.

“(Y/n) do you get in heated arguments at work,” Gibbs asked looking at you.

“No I mean unless my coworker does something incredibly stupid,” you replied ignoring Ferguson. “So what incredibly stupid thing did you do,” you asked looking at Ferguson

“I didn’t. I didn’t, ” he responded dragging if hand across his mouth.

Gibbs looked over at you then opened the file in front of him and pushed the file in front of Ferguson. He looked at the papers then looked up a Gibbs. He closed the file and pushed it back.

“I don’t know what that is,” he said tapping away at the table.

“You should. Its your banking records. It shows that there are multiple charges added to your account adding up to 150,000 dollars over the past 18 months,” you said opening the file back up and pointing out the charges.

“My guess is that those are payments from you selling military locations and secrets to enemies in the middle east,” Gibbs said leaning back in his chair.

“And your pal Sargent McMatthews found out. That’s why you two had a ‘heated argument’ two days ago. He found out that your were selling out fellow soldiers and threatened to report you,” you interrogated as your leaned closer to Ferguson.

Ferguson started sweating. Gibbs noticed it too.

“But you couldn’t have that happen so you went to your cousin Johnathan who so happen own a golden poison frog. You extracted the toxins from the frog then injected Sargent McMatthews so he wouldn’t tell your CO,” Gibbs informed.

“Because of you fellow marines died,” Gibbs spoke angrily almost yelled.

“No one was supposed to die. The information I gave was just supposed to help them transport drugs nothing more,” Ferguson exclaimed. “They promised that no one was going to die. James was gonna tell and if anyone found out I would be labeled a traitor. I didn’t want to kill James he is my friend…was my friend. Everything just got out of hand.”

Gibbs looked over at you and then slid a legal pad across the table. Ferguson started writing his confession. You and Gibbs got up and walked out of the room. The two of you walked back to the bullpen and Gibbs sat at his desk to work on the paperwork and you did the same.

“(Y/n) its nice to have you back,” Gibbs said not even looking up from his computer.

By the time you were done with the paperwork, Tony, Ziva, and Tim has left. You looked out the skylight and noticed that it was already dark. Gibbs got up from his desk and walked over to yours.

“It’s late (y/n) go home,” he instructed putting on his coat.

“I love my family and all but there were moments where I wanted to be here working. Plus I have paperwork I still need to finish,” you responded to him.

“It can wait til tomorrow,” he replied grabbing your coat and holding it out for you.

“I really should finish.”

“Ill buy dinner.”

“Sold,” you claimed grabbing the coat from Gibbs.

A smile grew on his face and he shook his head at your antics. He waited for you to grab your things and then the two of you went to the elevator. When the elevators closed that awkward tension filled the enclosed room again.

“Gibbs are you ok. You have been acting strange all day.”

“Your hair,” he whispered.

“Right I going to make an appointment to fix it.”

“No, I like it. It suits you,” he said standing directly in front of you.

The tension increased ten folds and the desire to kiss him was strong. You cleared your throat and took a step back from Gibbs. He walked you to your car but as you were starting it something happened and the car just stopped working. You turned off the car and just slapped the steering wheel.

“Ill drive,” Gibbs said opening your door.

You got out of your car and the two of you walked over to Gibbs’ truck. The ride to Gibbs’ house was quiet a bit awkward like the elevator but it was the nice kind of awkward quiet. Once you got to Gibbs house he got on his phone and ordered takeout from (favorite restaurant) and ordered you some (favorite meal).

“Abby said your building another mysterious boat,” you inquired as you took off your coat and placed it on the couch.

“Mysterious,” he questioned.

“Come on Gibbs you constantly build giant boats in your basement and you magically get them out. Ergo Mysterious.”

He opened the fridge and handed out a beer and headed down to his basement. You followed him down the familiar stairs. In his basement stood another damn boat. Gibbs placed his beer on his work bench and proceeded to sand down the boat.

“Ok Gibbs how many does this make 27,” you asked him jokingly.

“I think its actually 28,” he jokingly responds.

“Funny man.”

You walk over to him and just watch him sand the boat. He looks over at you and holds out the sandpaper in his hands. Switching between looking at him, the boat, and the sandpaper in his hand you shake your head.

“Oh no. I don’t want to mess up the boat.”

He grabs the beer from your hands and place it next to his. Gibbs grabs your elbow and pulls you to where he was standing. Standing behind you, he places the sandpaper in you hand and guides it along the boat.

“With the grain,” he whispers in your ear.

You were stick between a rock and a hard place or in this case wood and your boss. Being this close to him made your face turn as red as your hair. His lips stayed within centimeters of your ear as he kept whispering “with the grain”. You couldn’t help it, so you turned your head towards his and you could feel his hot breath on your face.

His lips, in this moment, just looked so kissable but you knew it couldn’t happen. Not with Rule #12. His blue eyes starred into your (e/c) eye. You unconsciously liked your lip then held your lower lip between your teeth. Seeing you biting your lip drove Gibbs crazy. In that moment he couldn’t stop himself. He closed the little space there was between the to of you and pressing his lips roughly against yours.

You could taste the beer off his lips and his scent of sawdust and bourbon filled your nose. He pressed your up against the boat to deepen the kiss while your hands found their way to his hair. This was better than your ever dreamed and you dreamed of this moment a lot. Your hands wondered from his hair down his back then to the button of his polo. He took his shirt of once he felt your cold hands on his lower stomach. After his shirt was off his lips attacked your neck sucking and biting it.

A moan escaped your lips which brought a smile to Gibbs’ face. His hands moved from the boat to the buttons on your shirt. The paste at which he was unbuttoning your shirt was agonizingly slow. But once it was done you quickly took it off. You hands went back to his hair this time you pulled him so close to you, it was like his entire weight was one you; that didn’t matter you liked feeling this close to Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His hands went down your sides to your hips and stopped on your ass. He gave it a light squeeze then grabbed your left leg and wrapped it around his hips. On instinct you did the same with your other leg, leaving the only thing from making you fall on the floor to be the force of Gibbs’s body pressing you against his unfinished boat.

Once again your hands roamed this gorgeous man’s body til it reached his belt. Your took it off and started to unbutton his pants but had to stop when his doorbell rang. He let you down and just stared at you.

“Thats the food,” he said grabbing his shirt and putting it back on.

“Im not hungry anymore,” you replied fixing your messy hair.

“You should eat anyway. Your gonna need your strength,” he said as he went up stairs leaving you gasping at the thought of what’s for dessert.

#leroy jethro gibbs imagine #gibbs imagine #gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #ncis

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Note

congratulations!!!

how about something (or thoughts, dealer's choice) on dark!bruce and a reader that deliberately pushes his buttons

thank you bug!! 5k is blowing my mind rn I never thought I would reach this point lol but ANYWAYS...... dark bruce. drabble incoming. (update after writing: the reader is also kinda dark in this???? wild. but watch out for nonconiness and degradation below the cut lol)

join my sleepover!

You were just curious. Who wouldn’t be? You wanted to see what the Hulk was capable of, and not just from grainy footage of New York rampages. You wanted to experience it.

Your starting tactics were way too weak. “Accidentally” spilling coffee on him, missing deadline on lab work and “forgetting” to do what he’d asked you to. Losing his emails. Throwing his results away as soon as they’d printed out. Mucking with his laptop so his internet was slow and he got weird pop up ads.

Obviously the Hulk wasn’t going to come out over minor inconveniences. You needed to up the ante.

“Hey, Mr. Banner,” you greeted as you slipped into his office one night.

“Uh, it’s Dr. Banner,” he reminded you.

“Right, sorry, I just forget sometimes... you don’t give off “doctor” vibes,” you laughed.

“As in I’m too fun and casual? Or...?”

“As in you just... I don’t know, you just don’t act like somebody who... went to graduate school. Or college.”

He raised his eyebrows and let out a short breath. “Wow, uh, I know you don’t mince your words but... okay.”

“Anyways, I just came by to let you know your study is a waste of time,” you announced, sauntering over and putting your hands on his desk. “I get what you were trying to do, but it’s not going to work. Total failure to launch.”

“Oh, really?” he sighed, that little vein on his neck bulging slightly. You were almost there, you just needed to push him a little more. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want you to ruin your career by publishing this garbage and trying to call it an empirical study.”

A gasp caught in your throat as he suddenly stood up and grabbed your neck, pulling you closer so he could glare at you. “Bullshit. I think you’re in here trying to make me angry, is that it?”

You wanted to deny it, but you needed to be able to breathe to do that.

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry...”

He relaxed just enough to let you speak. “Try me.”

One simple push back was enough to send you toppling to the floor, scrambling useless in your stupid heels and sputtering for air. He circled his desk to stand over you, grabbing you by your hair and pulling you up to your knees. His free hand opened his belt just above your face, reaching into his trousers and--

Well, you wanted to see the Hulk. In a way, you did, just not the one you were expecting.

A gasp gave him the perfect opportunity to shove it into your mouth, sighing at the feeling of your wet, warm tongue.

“I’ll make you regret every stupid little thing you did to get on my nerves,” he promised. “You’re gonna learn tonight exactly how dangerous I am when I’m angry.”

#saturday night sleepovers #dark!bruce banner x reader #sultrygoblin

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doctorthreephds · 3 years

Text

Synapses: Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 4.8k

TW: Mentions of death and drugs--specifically from the episode Demonology

A/N: Hey! Just a forewarning, the forensic techniques in this are complete speculation from what I know and they are probably not accurate at all.

Summary: After starting your new job and getting closer to Spencer, you find yourself having your first fight with your new friend when the anniversary of your mother’s death approaches.

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @green-intervention @eevee0722

Starting your new job was hard, like all things, but enjoyable. The first few days were learning the ropes and the area and you often came home exhausted, tired from a long day’s work in a lab you were unfamiliar with. The little things were what kept you going. Every day, you made an effort to eat lunch with your father--leftovers or food to go from a nearby restaurant or deli. When your father went away on his case, you spent time with Penelope in her bat cave. It was fun to hang out with her, spouting comedic rhetoric whenever someone called her for advice.

“Please don’t eat near the merchandise, baby, it’s my money maker,” she states, typing away at the speed of light as someone rings in. “Information highway speaking, you’re on speaker with me and the good doctor.”

You snort and let out a small laugh as you silently dig into your takeout box of chow mein.

“The good doctor? I thought that was me,” you hear Spencer speak up from the phone and smile, lifting your chopsticks to your mouth.

“You’ve been replaced, Dr. Reid. Sorry!” you say before taking another bite of the noodles.

“What are you doing--”

“Stay on track, boy genius. What do you need from me?” Penelope asks and you zone out, not wanting to listen into the details of the gruesome murders they were investigating. While your job sometimes involved dead bodies, you were in fact eating lunch and wanted to keep your lunch down for the rest of the day. After they were finished, you could hear them wrapping up and you inserted a final goodbye.

“Bye Spencer! I’ll see you soon,” you state as the phone beeps to signal that the call has ended.

“See him soon?” Penelope spins around as she fiddles with a pink pen with a puffball on the end that almost matches the pink blush on your face.

“I mean I’ll see him when the case ends,” you mumble and toss your takeout box into her trash, taking a sip from your water bottle.

“Hm, I’m sure that’s what you meant,” she smiles and turns back to her computer, typing something up. “If you need any info on him, I can tell you anything you want to know, sweets.”

“I’m not gonna do that, it’s an invasion of privacy,” you stand and check your watch, it’s about time for you to get back to work. “But if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”

Other times, when your father was too busy to entertain you, you would eat with the others--or more specifically, Spencer. Travelling up to the sixth floor, you check to see if Spencer is anywhere nearby. When you deduce that he is nowhere near, his plush office chair becomes your new home as you open up your bag and grab the tupperware full of salad while you wait for his arrival. Opening the small container, you poke at the leaves with your fork and make a face when you see that they’re soggy and limp.

“Have a salad today?” he asks as you look at the sad lettuce in your small tupperware container.

“Yeah. Although, it doesn’t look very appetizing,” you state and put it down on his desk, looking up at the cup of coffee in his hand that looked far more delicious than the monstrosity that was sad salad.

“Did you know that salad comes from the latin word ‘herba salta’ which means ‘salted herbs,’ so perhaps you don’t have enough salt on your herbs,” he states and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head as you close the container and put it away.

“Any more salt and my blood pressure’s gonna be at risk. Wanna grab lunch at the deli?” you ask and stand. He nods as the two of you exit the bullpen, taking the elevator down.

This was your schedule, and you loved it. It didn’t take that long for you to build a good relationship with everyone, constantly checking in on their lives outside of Quantico. Emily was doing well with Sergio, Henry was growing at a rate that JJ couldn’t comprehend, Penelope was still going out with Kevin, and you and Spencer were often found hanging out on the weekends when he wasn’t called away for a case.

You found it odd how easily you took to Spencer, how his fun facts were always there to brighten up every conversation and his constant pursuit of knowledge was admirable. He took you to his favorite bookstore as well as his favorite used bookstore that he frequented in hopes of finding first editions and original copies. He also would take you to his favorite park, the one that he went to so that he could play chess and he would always win. It wasn’t always about him, though, you loved taking him to go see new movies as opposed to the older and foreign ones that he enjoyed. The two of you also committed to trying new foods together. With his sensory issues and your picky nature, you both embarked on a journey to eat new foods in hopes of finding something new and delicious.

While your new found friendship was almost perfect in the way that you committed yourselves, it too could not come without ups and downs. The first bump came when you helped consult on an unofficial case, something that had happened with Emily’s close friends. It was only a few days before the anniversary for your mother’s death and you were running on fumes.

“Hello?” you ask sharply, pouring over several reports that were due soon. Your temper was short today and you just wanted to go home.

“Hey it’s Spencer. Are you okay?” he asks and you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need?” you sit back in your chair and take a sip of your coffee, attempting to quell your anxieties while he speaks.

“I’m not at Quantico right now, I’m at a victim’s house. His name is Thomas Valentine and he died of dehydration but Emily believes there’s foul play. I’ll have Garcia send over his tox reports along with Matthew Benton’s to see if the pathologist missed anything. We’re on our way back so feel free to meet us upstairs when we debrief,” he says and you nod, writing down the information on a stray post-it note so that you don’t forget. “By the way, your dad says ‘hi.’”

“Tell him I say ‘hi’ back. I’ll meet you upstairs,” you state and hang up the phone, sighing as you run your hands through your hair to release some nervous energy. It was only a few more days and you would be on your day off, it was only a few days until you would be able to visit your mom again.

Just as if she heard it from five floors up, you receive an email from Penelope with the toxicology reports from both victims. A quick skim shows that there is a lack of intense scrutiny due to the simple cause of death. But, if Emily and Spencer believe otherwise then it was in your best interest to assume so as well. Looking into Matthew Benton’s report, there was evidence of long-term methamphetamine abuse which could contribute to the death but nothing out of the ordinary. It was only midday and you were running out of steam but your friends needed you so you had to pull it together.

After printing out all the information you have and stashing it in a folder, you make your way up to the bullpen and watch people rushing around. The busyness and chatter made you a bit woozy but the sight of Spencer helped to ground out a bit.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t have to be here,” he frowns as he sees you approach and you shake your head.

“I’m fine, I just want to help out in any way I can,” you mumble and move past him toward the conference room where almost everyone was gathered. Once Hotch arrived, they began to pour over details and possibilities within this pseudo-case.

Listening intently, you take note of the evidence as it is laid out for you, the scuff marks under the bed, the missionary church in Spain that the two victims had visited, the idea that each family had been highly religious. Years of going to church in France and D.C. were being brought back in an instant.

“That sounds like an exorcism,” you blurt out and look up to see everyone staring at you. It was odd to hold their attention but you nestled down in your chair and continued to listen.

“Look, I know the Bible just as well as anyone, but I also know there’s nothing more open to behavioral interpretation than religion,” Derek comments.

“Meaning what?” Emily asks, shaking her head.

“I think it’s dangerous for us to wanna find a connection between these deaths,” he states.

“Wait, was Thomas’ wife religious?” Emily frowns and looks around at your father.

“She was concerned that he had been cursing God,” your father recalls as Spencer dives into an inference.

“Exorcism ritual can take days to complete. It’s possible the stress induced could cause a heart attack, especially in someone with a history of drug abuse,” he explains and looks at you.

“Definitely, drugs leave marks on your body that are irreversible unless you completely stop. It makes an impact on your hair growth, your skin, your heart, so it’s completely plausible. And it could explain how someone died of dehydration,” the facts fly so fast through your head as you try to connect the dots while you speak, your head spinning. Even a couple minutes in the conference room was overwhelming, you couldn’t imagine doing this all the time.

“Guys, look, I’m willing to say that we might have an unsub who ritualizes killings as if they were exorcisms, maybe. But, right now, we don’t even know if we have a crime yet,” Derek voices his concerns and you slowly nod, thinking about how you could help to clear up any room for error. It was possible if you were able to look at the bodies and examine them that you may have the ability to try and see if there were any other traces of possible deadly substances.

“Morgan’s right. We need to step back. Let me talk to someone before I have us all telling ghost stories,” your father suggests and everyone appears to take this as time to cool off and rethink any possibilities, standing and leaving the room to follow their own leads. Dread settles in your chest as you sit in the chair, looking down at the folder to find any piece of information that could help you come to a conclusion but the words were flying around in your head and you felt too sluggish to do anything.

“Do you think that you can get me the victim’s clothing? Perhaps something was done to them topically that would explain their deaths further,” you stand and sigh, already dreading going back to your reports.

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be our lunch break,” he says and smiles. While his smiles usually have the power to brighten your entire day, your sour mood only extinguished any fire of joy inside your body.

“I have too much to do, just go on without me,” you respond and begin walking out of the conference room. You can already feel Spencer’s pestering bubbling up and wanting to know what’s wrong but you didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Are you sure? Studies have shown that taking breaks help boost blood flow and information retention--”

“I’m sure, Spencer,” you snap and continue walking toward the elevators before he reaches out and grabs your arm to stop you.

“What’s going on? Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“God, I’m fine Spencer! Stop babying me, you’re not my dad,” all the emotion that had been building up in the morning spilled out in anger and your heart shattered to see Spencer so confused and sad. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping into the elevator, you press the button to go down and watch the doors close in front of you, not looking anywhere in the direction of Spencer. The fluorescent lights above you suddenly look far too bright and tears well in your eyes. What would your mother say if she could see you now? Would she be disappointed? Would she be angry? A vibration in your pocket breaks you out of the self-loathing spiral.

From Dad (12:24PM):

I think you just about broke this kid’s heart.

To Dad (12:25PM):

I didn’t mean to. It’s just so close.

From Dad: (12:25PM):

Just tell him. He’ll understand.

To Dad (12:26PM):

I know. I love you.

As you sit at your desk and stare at the papers, your mind moves on autopilot to complete the rest of your tasks. With only two cups of coffee in your system, your head was starting to hurt and your focus was fizzing but when Spencer came back with a couple bags full of clothing to be processed, the guilt overpowered any feeling of fatigue.

“I brought the evidence. Just send the report to Garcia,” he states and drops the bag off at your desk before turning to leave.

“Hey, Spencer?” he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowed as you speak. “I’m really sorry. I’m not feeling well.”

“I could have told you that, and I’m not even a medical doctor,” he mutters and sighs. The air between you is stale and you want to speak, but don’t know what to say.

“Do you want to stay and help me process the evidence? It’ll only take a little bit,” you ask, your voice small. He appears to ponder the thought before nodding and you smile, standing and taking the evidence over to one of your machines. This was where you thrived. While you worked in silence, it was comforting to have Spencer around, even if the two of you were still on rocky ground.

You first started with isolating the fabric and the substances on the clothing. From there, you take them and test what they are to see if there are foreign substances that may have contributed to the deaths of Matthew Benton and Thomas Valentine. Processing goes quickly and you print out the report, frowning at the traces of nerve agent on the clothing.

“There’s sarin on their clothing,” you tell him and hand over the papers for him to read through.

“Thanks,” he mutters and stands to leave.

“Are we okay?” you ask him, watching him turn as you wrap your arms around your torso in a comforting way, warming your hands from the cold lab.

“Obviously not, if you’re not telling me something,” he puts down the folder and comes up to you, reaching out to take your hands. It was a bit of a shock, considering the fact that you knew he hated touching hands, but it was progress and it made your heart melt to think that he would feel safe enough to do so. “I know something’s wrong and I want to help you, but you’re not being honest with me.”

“I just haven’t eaten, Spence. And I’m under the weather, which doesn’t help. I promise that I’ll be okay,” you tell him, staring up into his eyes and speaking with as much truth as you can. But it wasn’t convincing enough and he pulls away as if you just burned him.

“I guess you don’t trust me, then,” he mumbles and turns around, picking up the folder and getting into the elevator. As the doors close, he stares back at you like he was disappointed and it completely broke you. Fat tears roll down your cheeks as your chest bubbles with anxiety and sorrow. You find a seat at your desk and desperately try to wipe the tears away, breathing in deeply to calm yourself down. You were still at work and you still had work to do.

Quickly, you dive back into your reports, writing them up as quickly as possible and pushing Spencer to the back of your mind. Before you know it, the end of the day comes and you’re out of the building and on the metro at record speed. The vibration of the wheels rolling over the tracks lulls you into a sense of security, distracting you from the pangs in your stomach. Without the distraction of work, your mind was able to wander.

Was it fair for you to hide this from Spencer? Why did you? Why did you need to keep this secret so badly?

Perhaps it was the years of being on your own after her death or the fact that showing sadness was opening yourself up to vulnerability and connection that you feared. Perhaps it was both, you didn’t have many friends in grad school and only talked to your dad once every blue moon. The thought of being a burden was unbearable, but losing Spencer was unfathomable. You could deal with a little bit of vulnerability if it meant getting your friend back.

Your legs guide you home once you reach your stop and you reheat some rice and add some soy sauce to make something that is edible and that you can keep down without issue. After eating, you shower and head to bed, falling asleep the second that you hit the pillow.

The next day, your alarm jars you out of a dreamless sleep, shaking you from a night that felt far too short. Your entire body was fatigued and your brain was a mess, but it was your last day at work before you got the day off. As you got ready and out the door, your phone was blowing up with information sent by Penelope and Emily. There was another death and they needed you to analyze the clothing of the third victim to confirm that nerve agent was being used to kill these men.

One you reach the office, you sit down and begin writing as you await the evidence. If you worked quick enough and finished the reports, you would be able to go home early. The fog in your brain makes it hard to focus as you work on more write ups, the words barely forming sentences, but you force yourself to persevere through lunch. Late in the afternoon, Spencer appears again with the evidence bag you need to process.

“Just send the report to Penelope when you’re done,” he states and turns back around to get into the elevator but you stand and pipe up.

“Can we talk?” you ask, hoping and praying that he would let you speak.

“I don’t know, can we? Because you seemed pretty adamant about keeping secrets from me last time we tried to talk,” he mumbles as he turns to look at you, his eyes dark and full of storm clouds.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, trying to find the right words so that your thoughts form coherent sentences. “I’m bad at talking about what’s plaguing me. I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m sorry. It’s not an excuse, I know, but it’s a start.”

You want to say ‘I’m sorry’ over and over, but it wasn’t an explanation and he deserved at least that.

“Tomorrow is the anniversary of my mother’s death,” his frown almost vanishes from his face as you speak which makes you feel a hint of encouragement to keep talking. “And I’ve always dealt with it alone. Maybe because I don’t let myself handle it any other way, but I hope that you’re able to understand. I’m sorry, Spencer.”

Staring down at the ground, you will the tears to stay in your eyes so that you can keep up some image of togetherness, but they fall as quickly as they form. Suddenly his arms are wrapped around you and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. This was him accepting your apology and you suddenly felt like you could breathe. You worm your arms around his torso and pull him close, allowing yourself to take in all of him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of muscles as they squeeze you tight, the fact that his hands were intertwined behind your back and his head was settled on top of yours.

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and you pull away slightly to look up at him. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

He pauses as he also stumbles over his words.

“But, I’m glad you did.”

You let out a sigh and hug him tight again, wanting to memorize the way his arms felt around you. After another long hug, you pull away and wipe your nose, shaking your head as you look over at the evidence bag.

“I’m sorry, Patrick. I’ll get to processing your clothes now,” you mumble and let out a light laugh as you wash your hands and ready the evidence, processing the substances on his clothing. Beside you, Spencer leans against the wall and watches silently. It’s a bit nerve wracking to have someone watching you the way that he does, with bright eyes and attentive body language, but you do your best to explain it to him as the machine brings up the results.

“Nerve agent, it’s sarin,” you turn to him. “Go tell them.”

He nods and picks up the newly printed report.

“I’ll come get you afterward,” he promises. “We can ride the train together.”

“There’s no need, I’m going home now. Just text me,” you smile up at him as he nods and takes your hand, squeezing it one last time before leaving.

You feel lighter now, like you lifted a rock off your chest. It was a burden, keeping secrets, but now you could feel a little bit better. After writing up all the procedural stuff on how you processed the evidence, you pack your bag and head to the metro. When you’re on the train, you get a text from Spencer telling him that they caught the priest and he was being deported back to Italy.

To Spencer (7:45PM):

I’m glad.

From Spencer (8:01PM):

Do you want me to come over?

To Spencer (8:02PM):

No, it’s okay. I’ll be okay.

When you finally arrive at your stop, you easily find your way home. There was still sadness lingering, it was getting to be that time, but you had Spencer and that was enough. Getting home and getting to bed is a quick ordeal after you eat something and drink way too much wine to try and drown your sorrows and quiet your mind. The same days every year, you take a couple off so that you can mourn the loss of your mother and visit her grave. It was almost like a way to pretend that she was alive, even if just for a day. You had a lot to tell her after everything that’s happened, but it still didn’t help the fact that she was gone forever.

Waking up the next morning is rough, it feels like a train plowed into you after a night of tears shed and one too many glasses of wine as you reminisced. Looking at your phone on this bright Friday morning, you see that you’ve managed to sleep in pretty significantly, but at least it was still technically morning. Waiting for you are a text from your father and a text from Spencer.

From Dad (6:00AM):

Chin up, tesoro. Your mother loved you very much, she would be proud of everything you accomplished.

From Spencer (7:02AM):

Do you want to get dinner after work?

From Spencer (7:34AM):

Where are you?

From Spencer (8:01AM):

Let me know what I can do.

The blanket of isolation took over you as you slowly began your morning routine, slowly being the key word. While Spencer knew, you didn’t know what to do now. This was uncharted territory for you and while you knew you weren’t alone, you had also never mourned with another person besides time spent at your mother’s funeral. Perhaps another year, another time. He was only just your friend.

After you throw on comfy clothes and brush your teeth, you put your hair up so that it’s out of your face and eat some cereal--something easy and virtually effortless. Once you finish, you make a mental note of what you’re going to pick up at the store before heading to the cemetery to spend time with your mom. Throwing on a coat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, you punch in the security code and open the door to see Spencer there.

“Spencer? What are you doing here, it’s only like two,” you frown and close your apartment door behind you, locking it with your keys.

“I finished up all my paperwork so I took a half day and I wanted to cheer you up,” he states as you look up at him. “Maybe we can watch some Star Wars or that vampire movie you always talk about.”

“I’m going to visit my mom,” you tell him.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll go then,” he says and begins to turn and walk away but you pipe up before he can get too far.

“Why don’t you come with me?” you ask. He was already here and he wanted to help you feel better. His presence alone was grounding, reminding you of what you had and not of what you lost.

“Are you sure?” he asks and you nod, walking up next to him.

“She would have loved you,” you almost reach out and take his hand before you realize what you’re about to do. “Can--Can I hold your hand?”

You’re almost positive he’s going to say no. After all, you know he has issues with germs and sensory issues, the day before being a special occasion because you had broken down crying in front of him. But, when he nods and holds out his hand, you feel your heart flutter. The two of you make your way downstairs in a comfortable silence and the warmth of Spencer’s hand in yours is comforting. As you exit the elevator and make your way out onto the street, the cold D.C. air is refreshing.

Together you walk to the local grocery store to grab some food and flowers, daffodils, which were your mother’s favorite. After, you ride the metro down near the cemetery. This whole time, the presence of Spencer is enough to distract you from the ever present cloud looming over your head, but when you finally walk through the cemetery’s gate, all hell breaks loose.

When Spencer hears you sob, he instantly wraps his arms around you. The floodgates open and you softly sob into his chest, your arms wrapped around him in a vice. Your heart hurts, you miss your mother. She should have been alive to see all the accomplishments, to see your wedding and your second graduation. It’s times like these where you wonder if anything could have been done, if you could have seen the symptoms sooner or if you could have found another doctor, but your father always reminds you that you did everything in your power to help her and that she would have been proud of the person you were today.

Once your sobs subside, you sniffle and pull away to wipe your nose.

“Sorry for crying on you,” you huff out a small laugh and try to wipe away some of the snot that got on him while you cried.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he says and you sit down on the blanket, Spencer sitting next to you and helping to lay out the food.

“Hey mom,” your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat before turning to Spencer. “This is Spencer and he works with dad. He’s my best friend.”

You smile at him as he turns and waves at her headstone. The notion is so heartwarming that you feel the tears rise up again.

“Hi Ms. Montgomery, your daughter is one of the best people I know,” he says as you begin to eat cheese and crackers from the charcuterie board.

“He works in the same building I do, I got the job at Quantico. I know that FBI agents and you don’t mix very well but I enjoy my job and they have all these new machines for me to play with,” you lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder and continue talking as he wraps an arm around you instinctively. As the two of you sit there and pick at the food, continuing to talk about your mom and your fondest memories, there’s a part of you that wishes it could be like this always. Maybe you didn’t have to always hide your sadness and spend it in isolation. And just maybe, there was always a rainbow after a storm.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jj #jennifer jareau #david rossi #penelope garcia

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potionsprefect · 3 years

Text

Not One But Two

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: The baby scan throws them a little surprise

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

A/N: I wasn’t going to make this a series but after @queencarb asked if there was gonna be one, I couldn’t resist! Thank you girl for the inspiration ❤️

First part here

The morning sun was shining through the windows, lighting up everything in its path. The birds were chirping softly outside the window and inside the large master bedroom, a couple laid contently amongst the duvet.

“Do you reckon we could call in sick and just spend the day in bed?” Victoria asked.

A rich chuckle sounded from near her belly. Her husband had his head on her stomach, stroking her soft skin and pressing kisses to it every so often.

“We could, but then that would look really suspicious when we turn up for our scan.” Ethan replied.

“Who would ever question the Ramsey’s?”

“Anyone who wants to have their privileges revoked.” Ethan shrugged.

“One look from you and they’d be off running. I remember what it was like during my intern year.” Victoria laughed.

“All of them ran, apart from you.” Ethan said turning his face towards her.

“Not even scare mongering from the great Ethan Ramsey himself could make me run away from him.” Victoria smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“And I’m glad you didn’t.” Ethan moved further up her body to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Because now we’re happily married and you’re growing our beautiful little baby.” Ethan caressed her slightly swollen stomach.

“I never realised how content you’ve become.” Victoria smiled.

“Being with the right woman will do that to a man.” Ethan smiled kissing Victoria, stroking her hair. “Pregnancy suits you.”

“You’re flattering me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. Maybe you should become pregnant all the time.” Ethan ran his thumb across her lips.

“Are you saying I wasn’t well suited before?” Victoria teased.

“I’m saying pregnancy brings out the beauty in you. And you can’t argue with that.” Ethan replied.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Victoria said.

“You better Mrs Ramsey.”

“Of course Mr Ramsey.”

— — — — —

Since they found out she was pregnant, Ethan had limited Victoria’s tasks in the hospital. If there was a trauma, she was only allowed to treat the green and yellow tags. She was exempt from any x rays, scans and infectious patients and was allowed regular breaks.

Victoria had tried to tell Ethan she wasn’t made of glass and could still carry out her normal duties. They agreed to disagree on their opinions on traumas but came to an mutual agreement that Victoria could have regular breaks, particularly because her back and feet were constantly killing her.

“There you are Sienna.” Victoria said heading towards her friend.

“What’s up?”

“I need to run upstairs for something, could you send this to the lab for me?”

“No problem. Fancy lunch later on?”

“Sounds great. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit down lately.”

“You don’t need to apologise! We all have our low moments. Although for you I’m guessing there will be a lot of high ones soon.” Sienna smirked glancing at Victoria’s stomach.

“How did you...?”

“The signs were all there, although I properly suspected when I saw you dashing into the bathroom earlier.” Sienna chuckled.

Victoria stared eyes wide at her friend. Although her morning sickness was not as severe as she expected, she thought she had avoided anyone noticing. Apart from Ethan of course.

“How far along?” Sienna asked quietly, making sure no one was listening.

“I found out last week, I’ve got my appointment in 15 minutes.” Victoria smiled.

“Ahh! I’m so happy for you!” Sienna squealed giving Victoria a hug. “Don’t worry I won’t tell the others.”

“Thanks Si. I’ve gotta head upstairs.” Victoria replied heading off down the hall.

“Good luck!” Sienna smiled.

Victoria headed down the corridor and up to OB where she checked in and waited for her name to be called. She text Ethan telling her where she was but didn’t get a reply.

Another 15 minutes had passed and Ethan still hadn’t turned up. She tried texting him and even calling him but he didn’t pick up. Where was he?

“Victoria? Would you like to come through?” Janice Myers, head of OB called out to her with a smile.

Victoria took one last look down the corridor and then followed Janice into one of the exams rooms.

“So how have you been?” Janice asked as she took a seat at her desk whilst Victoria sat on the exam bed.

“Not too bad. The morning sickness isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’m not throwing up as often as I thought I would.” Victoria replied.

“It’s always different in every case, some women have it bad, others barely have any. I guess you’re lucky.” Janice replied.

“Very lucky.” Victoria chuckled.

“Is Ethan not with you?”

“There must be an emergency downstairs. I’ll find him later.”

“Ok let’s get started.”

Victoria lied down on the bed and lifted up her top as Janice put some of the gel on her stomach. She placed the wand gently to the gel and on the screen flickered a black and white image.

“There we go.” Janice smiled moving the screen so Victoria could see.

Victoria smiled at the screen, her eyes glistening with emotion. She could just make out the tiny figure.

“I’d say you’re about eight weeks, healthy size, everything looks good.” Janice smiled.

“That’s a relief. That’s all I could hope for.” Victoria said.

“Indeed.” Janice said looking at the screen. She suddenly furrowed her brows and looked at the screen more closely.

“What is it?” Victoria asked noticing the change in her demeanour.

“See for yourself.” Janice chuckled slightly pointing to the screen.

Victoria scanned the screen, looking for anything that would’ve caused Janice to take a second look. She then saw it, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Is that...” Victoria trailed off.

“A second heartbeat.” Janice smiled.

Victoria stared at the tiny little heartbeat then darted her eyes back to the original one. “Wow.”

Janice laughed slightly. “I have to admit, I never believed Ethan would marry, but being the father of twins? Now that is something I can’t wait to see.”

“Double the trouble for the both of us.” Victoria laughed a little. “I thought twins meant the morning sickness would be worse.”

“It is usually but I guess you’re even luckier than you realise. Both babies are looking healthy and are at a decent size. I’ll print out some photos and a sheet of things to look out for over the next few weeks. Are you taking any vitamins?”

“No I was going to pick some up on my way home.”

“I’ll write you a prescription. That way you can avoid any unwanted looks or gossip.” Janice smiled.

“Thank you.” Victoria smiled back.

Victoria headed out the room and back downstairs still shocked from the news that she was having twins. Ethan is going to kick himself that he missed that she thought.

By the end of the year, there wouldn’t be just one baby in their lives, there would be two. The thought of that made her feel giddy with excitement.

Victoria scanned the corridors trying to spot her husband. He wasn’t in any of the filled rooms nor was he by the nurses station. Victoria then decided to head to his office and wait for him there. She fired a quick text to Sienna.

Rain check on lunch? Need to tell Ethan something x

Sienna immediately replied:

No worries, hope the appointment went ok. Just dealt with a massive trauma so would’ve been delayed anyway! X

Victoria headed into Ethan’s office and sat down in his chair. She text Ethan telling him where she was and waited.

Her eyes scanned the room, his office was bare with only a few additions over the years. On his desk was a picture of them at their wedding, smiling at each other as they did their first dance. Next to it was a single photo of Victoria, grinning as she held a drink in her hand.

Victoria smiled at the photos, knowing Ethan would soon be adding a third photo to the collection. Or possibly a fourth if he wanted one photo of each baby.

The sound of the door opening and closing made her look up and there stood Ethan, looking panicked and angry with himself.

“Vic I am so sorry. We had a major trauma come in and when I thought it was over, they just kept rolling in.” Ethan said breathlessly making his way over to her and kissing her forehead as she stood up.

“Ethan it’s fine. I know how stressful it can be working in the ER. It’s ok.” Victoria ran her fingers across the lines of his face, trying to relive some of the tension he was feeling.

“But I missed the scan! Was everything ok?”

“You might want to sit down.” Victoria directed him to the chair. If he heard the news she had to share standing up, he’d probably faint.

“What is it? Is everything ok?” Ethan asked looking up at her.

“See for yourself.” Victoria reached into her pocket and pulled out the scan. She handed it to Ethan.

Ethan directed his eyes between the scan and Victoria unsure what to say. He could feel his heart pounding - whether it was the adrenaline from treating over 30 casualties or from staring at the scan he didn’t know.

Twins.

“Ethan?” Victoria’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“This is...” Ethan trailed off.

“Unexpected?”

“I was going to say amazing.” Ethan smiled.

“That’s not the reaction I had when I first saw them.” Victoria laughed a little. “Double the trouble for us.”

“Even when they’re on their third detention in a week.” Ethan chuckled as he stood up and wrapped his arms around her.

Victoria sighed against his chest as Ethan’s hands ran up and down her back.

“Looks like we’re going to have to buy double of everything.” Victoria looked up at him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Ethan pulled her in for a kiss, lingering for a few moments before he then pressed a loving kiss to her stomach.

— — — — —

Labour fic up next!

Hope you enjoy this!

Tag list: @ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @i-bloody-love-drake-walker

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #play choices #pixelberry #fanfic #series #fanfic series #fluff

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ahoney--girl · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

An NCT private school Au with Johnny and Jaehyun. Not really slow burn but no smut in this chapter

“It’s not going to be that.” Rissa rolled her eyes as she brushed a green eyeshadow color on her dark brown skin. “A private boarding school with some of the hottest, children of the richest families, sounds like a setup to one of those novels we read all the time.” Huffing I button up the dark blue school shirt. “Yeah, it’s all fun and games until they find out I’m not one of them.” Turning as I search my packed up room for the dark brown jacket of the uniform. “I’m sure they will be so dazzled by your beauty they will forget all about your nonexistence trust fund.” Pulling my jacket from its position, it crumbled on the floor beside boxes labeled “sneakers' '. Slipping it on moving back into the camera. “Plus the uniform is pretty decent. Your new summer curves look great in it sis.” “Really?” turning my body appeared on the screen. My new weight bunching up as I grabbed my butt then thighs playfully slapping them so they jiggled. “Gonna have those prep boys drooling.” She laughed as I moved my body in awkward positions posting. “As if.” I turned to face the mirror my phone was leaning against. Gathering my black and grey box braids into a high ponytail in one motion, “After last summer I just know none of these goody-two-shoes will be what I need.” My eyes shifted to her winking as she nodded in understanding. She moved to put more mascara on as I unclipped my lipstick, smearing it on my pink fluffy lips. Taking in my dark melanated skin for a moment the colors of the uniform contrasted nicely with my thighs peeking out of the plaid skirt. My phone buzzed the 8:30 am buzzer blinking brightly. “Ugh girl it looks like I got to get on the road.” She smiled. “kk call me later I want all the dirty details." “Of course.” With a kiss, the line goes dead. “Mom I’m gone,” I yell grabbing the keys heading for the door. “Call me when you get there and settled in, I should be able to mail the last of your stuff later this week.” She turns from the stove smiling softly as I snag an apple and my coffee from their usual waiting spots. “I love you and I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes took me in her eyes watering. “Right back at you” I wink biting into my apple heading out.

“Neo preparatory is the highest-ranked private school and so expects nothing less of its students." The older white-haired woman demanded as she stared me down in my seat. “It's not every day that we accept someone on such...... interesting terms.” She gritted out looking me over the rim of her black glasses. “So that being said, understand you are no exception to these rules.” “Of course not...I understand.” “Good..your student ambassador is outside to help you get the lay of the land. I do hope to never see you again in this close proximity.” Standing quickly I turn to hustle out of the small office. A short petite blond girl stands leaning against the opposite wall of the office. She pushed off walking me. She looks like a doll in her uniform like a “Barbie goes to private school.” collectible. “Hi I’m Hannah I’ll be your guide for the week!” Her voice bubbles out as she flips her hair over her shoulder. Turning to start down the hallway I shuffle beside her, my basic height several inches above hers. “I took it upon myself to download your schedule already. So your first class is English 103 which is very impressive I must say. With you coming in as a sophomore but already having a late junior English, history, and science class.” “Uh thank you..I-” “Your hair is sooo cute did you buy it yourself?” My eyebrows scrunch together looking at her as she continues walking. Her head straight forward, face smirking at a joke unknown to me. “Uh, what doe-” “Here we are.... I’ll see you after class,” She points to the closed wooden door smiling before she bounced off down the hall the same way we came.

“Ah, you must be a new student.” The man motioned for me to come closer as he pulled a thick folder from inside his desk. Handing the brick to me. “Pick any open seat.” Nodding he turns back to the chalkboard writing. The chairs are arranged into a semi circle two rows back, quickly I choose to slide into the empty seat on the second row towards the corner of the room. Placing my backpack beside my desk turning to focus on the paperclipped stack of papers in the envelope. “Syllables” printed on the first page, flipping through common authors' names, themes, paper ideas. Smirking I've already read most of these so these papers should be easy. Satisfied I place the packet down looking up to come in direct eye contact with a boy from across the semi-circle. Black hair pulled up in a man bun, pouty lips, straight nose, slightly tinted skin, and intense cutting eyes stare at me. As his head cocked to the side. He looks gorgeous, his eyes taking me in slowly. I don't look away but neither does he continue his descent down my body. Slipping me like he's an x-ray. I feel vulnerable under his eyes causing the edges of my brain to start becoming fuzzy. The longer I watch him the more my brain demands to fully be in its most vulnerable state. Not now, not here. Swallowing hard I turn quickly looking at the front as the teacher turns around, clapping his hands. “So today I thought we would start easy since it's the first day so.. thoughts on Catcher and the Rye?”

Hannah's not outside the room, looking down the hall where she should be coming from brings no results. The hallways fill up with faces of students I don't know. “Need some help?” A deep voice cuts into my personal space as a body presses lightly to my back. “Uh.” Quickly stepping forward to turn I see the boy from earlier staring at me. Slightly looking down at his height he smirks at my clear flustered state. “Oh yeah, my guide seems to have forgotten about me,” I mumble out looking away from his face. “Her loss, my gain.” He shrugs adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. His button-up was undone with several at the top, the uniform tie completely missing, the jacket rolled up to his elbows. “Uh my next class is...biology.” I rush out looking away from his toned body. “Perfect, I'm heading that way.” He starts down the hallway. “So where are you from?” “Here.” “Really?” “What..is it hard to believe?” I question turning to look at him. His eyes were already staring intensely at me. Jumping slightly at his gaze my head turns to face the front as we continue to walk. He chuckles “Not hard to believe.... I just thought I knew everyone who was going to be going to Neo for the next few years..small community and all..we all pretty much went to the same school since birth.” “Well, nothing wrong with a new face.” “I absolutely agree..especially if that face is yours.” Smiling as my body grows hotter at his compliment I adjust my backpack looking at the floor as we walk. “lookup.” He demands softly, my body on instinct snaps up eyes turning to look at a smiling boy next to me. “Good.” He nods, my body washes in the small praise. Stopping his walking my body jerks slightly. “Well, this is your stop.” He points to the glass door to the green lab. “I’m Johnny by the way.” Nodding quickly I move to open the door wanting space quickly. His hand wraps around mine softly, smoothly but veiny in contrast. “I think you should sit with me at lunch.” “Uh yeah, guess,” I mumble, not looking up from his slightly tan hand contrasting with my darker one, engulfing it. “What was that? Speak clearly.” My pussy clenches at his tone. “I said sure.” I rush out clearer he squeezes my hand in approval. “See you then.” He slips his hand from mine leaving. What the fuck is up with prep school boys.

#your boys fanfic #nct fanfic #nct johnny #nct au #nct johnny au #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #johnny fic #nct poly #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fic #nct x blak reader #kpop x black reader #kpop x black! reader #ambw scenarios #johnny x black reader

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Tower: Family - 8

The Tower: Family An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1534

Warnings: Pregnancy

Synopsis: With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family. When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 8: Return to the Tower

Our honeymoon was over too soon, though I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t missing my babies like crazy. We picked them and the puppies up from Sam’s sister and took them straight to the tower.

It was strange going back to the tower but not in a bad way. I had a lot of happy memories attached to the building. This was where I fell in love with my family. Going up in the elevator, all of us crammed together - we were going home.

The elevator opened up right into the penthouse. It was a huge open space, the ceiling seemed to start at what would be normally two stories above us and funneled up as it got to the window on the opposite side, so it was several stories of glass overlooking the city and acted as the focal point of the room. Closest to the window was an open circular sitting area that had a modern chandelier hanging over it. It was slightly raised and there were plenty of seats for all of us and more to sit around, and despite how large it looked, it also looked cozy and inviting. In the center of the space, a glass spiral staircase led to the upper floors, and running down the middle of it was a glassed-in fountain, the water running right down the glass. My immediate thought seeing it was that it would be a great place to put the glass Thor and I had inadvertently made.

Directly to the left and right of the elevator were rooms split into two levels each with stairs running up in a curve along the lower level. The bottom level of each was a solid wall with large dark wood doors, while the top levels had glass walls. Along with sculptures and other decorative pieces, there were various paintings, photographs on the solid walls. None matched and yet they all worked together. It included things like a Monet, photographs of the city skyline from the early 40s, artwork featuring the Avengers that you could find in poster form at Walmart, and photos we’d taken of each other or the kids, printed onto canvas.

“Alright, so,” Tony said as we spilled into the entryway. The puppies immediately just took off, running around and sniffing everything. “On the left, there’s a cinema room on the bottom and games and playroom on the top. On the right is the kitchen and above it a home gym.”

He led us toward the sitting area. “The bedrooms are all upstairs,” he said as we passed the stairs. “I cut the number for us down to just three. One big family one and two spares for when we might need space. There are more kids’ rooms and a nursery.” We reached the sitting area which brought the rest of the space into view. On the right was a dining area with a large glass table and a bar at the far end. To the left was some more entertaining space. Couches, a big-screen TV, and a grand piano. “There are bathrooms at either end and obviously more upstairs. What do you think?”

“It’s perfect, Tony,” Steve said.

Clint collapsed down on one of the couches and put his feet on the coffee table. “I think to celebrate our triumphant return to the city, we should order a bunch of pizza.”

“What a surprise that you’d suggest that, Clint?” Natasha said, sitting down next to him.

“What? Pizza is good,” Clint argued.

“You heard the man, FRIDAY,” Tony said. “You know what we like.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI replied.

“Where’s dis?” Riley asked as she walked over to the window and pressed her face against it.

“This is our new home,” Tony answered. “What do you think?”

“Dis isn’t home,” Pietro said. “No…”

“Oh, honey,” Bruce cooed, going down on one knee and drawing Pietro close with one large green hand. “We still have the other house and this one means you get to go to a nice school.”

“But I wike da outside. Dis too high up,” Pietro sobbed, his lip quivering. “And my books.”

“Come here, bumblebee,” Bruce said, scooping him up.

Pietro started crying and hid his face in Bruce’s arm. “I wanna go home.”

Bruce carried Pietro over to the window. “Your books and toys and clothes are all in your bedroom. We can take you to the park and look - look at all the things you can see up here.”

Pietro poked his head up from where he was hiding it in Bruce’s arm. “So much,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Pretty cool, huh, buddy?” Clint said. “And there’s a garden just downstairs with a slide and even a pool. We can go there every day with the puppies.”

“This is where your new brothers and sisters will be born and where you’ll start making lots of friends who are your age,” Bruce soothed.

“Kids?” Riley asked.

“Daddy Tony worked really hard on your bedrooms too,” Bruce said.

“It’s true,” Tony agreed. “Your bed is up in the roof and has a special walkway to it, so it looks like your bed is in a tree. And Riley’s looks like a pirate ship. And if you don’t want to sleep in different rooms, that’s okay, because the wall can move the wall and you’ll be in the same room.”

“An’ my books are hewre?” Pietro asked.

“Yeah, all your books are here,” Bruce assured him. “Will you give it a go? For us?”

“Otay,” Pietro said, softly.

“Why don’t we all have a nice movie night?” Steve suggested. “We can make some popcorn and eat our pizza while we watch Frozen.”

“Yeah!” Riley said, bouncing over to him. Steve scooped her up and spun her upside down, making her squeal loudly and a breeze pick up in the room.

“Then let's go make some popcorn!” He carried her out to the kitchen, and Bruce followed after him carrying Pietro.”

“So, how’s this gonna work?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch. “I mean, staff wise and going into work.”

“Well for starters, you’re not doing Avengers stuff while you’re pregnant, so you don’t have to worry about going into work,” Tony said, folding his arms over his chest.

“If I knew you were going to be such a pest, I wouldn’t have said yes,” I snarked.

Clint snorted. “Like you didn’t know he was going to be like that.”

“We all do agree though. You guys need to take it easy while you’re pregnant. No missions and backing off on the training,” Sam said. “Even Nat.”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Traitor,” I pouted.

“The labs are still here, including your one,” Tony said. “You can still do that, and I’m going to focus more on R&D over Avenging too.”

“Fine,” I huffed.

Clint started laughing and he put his arm around me and pulled me close. “You’re worse than the twins.”

“The landing bay for the Quin is directly under the garden,” Tony said.

“And there are offices here as well as the training arena. So we’ll keep up with what we can here, and when we’re needed we’ll use the Quin,” Sam said. “Probably one or two of us will go over to the compound every day, but by Quin, it’s only a half-hour. Hopefully, it starts running without us being there all the time and we’ll just be desk-jockeys unless it’s something big. And then with all the new enhanced popping up, hopefully, we can basically bow out of the hero-ing game and focus on the training and parenting game.”

“That’ll be good,” Bucky hummed, stretching back on the couch and putting his hands over his head. “Maybe I can go back to school.”

“That would be wonderful, Bucky,” Wanda said. “This could be a chance for all of us to get the things we missed out on.”

I smiled and hummed, curling into Clint’s side. “We’ll almost be normal.”

“There ain’t nothing normal about us,” Clint said, pulling me close.

“We may not be normal, but we are happy,” Thor said. “That is better.”

“Yeah, it is, you big softie,” Sam teased. Thor laughed, pulling Sam close and kissing his cheek.

“The pizza has arrived, do you want security to bring it up?” FRIDAY announced.

“Yes, please, FRIDAY,” Sam said,

Steve came out holding both the twins and he was followed by Bruce who had a huge bowl of popcorn in one hand and a box of soda’s under his arm. “Come on you lot,” Steve announced. “Time to have some family time with our kiddos, who we missed so much.”

The kids giggled and kicked their legs and we all got up and followed after them. The pizza arrived as we were heading into the cinema room. Clint and Sam collected it and Bucky called the dogs along. They immediately followed him into the darkened room thanks to his new powers and jumped up onto the recliners with the kids. As I settled into the large reclining seat and Wanda tucked herself into my side, pulling a blanket over both of us, I relaxed. It was good to finally be home.

// NEXT

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dahliawolfe · 3 years

Text

Something More

CSI NY fanfic

Danny Messer/OFC

The buzzing of her cell woke her. Grunting, Nora reached for the phone and flipped it open.

“Hello,” she rasped.

“Nora, we’ve got a case,” Mac Taylor said, no preamble.

“Gotcha, Dad. Text me the address, please,” she swung her legs over the side of the bed and snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the nightstand. She hurried into a pair of jeans from the floor and turned to look back at the bed. “Yo, Messer! Up and at ‘em! We got a case,” she demanded, throwing a balled up sock at Danny’s head. She and Danny had been fooling around for a few weeks now. When a case was stressful (and they usually were) they met up and blew off steam. She’d known Danny for nearly 6 years, and he was her best friend. It was strictly no strings attached when they hooked up.

“Lemme sleep,” Danny begged tiredly. They had been up until after 2 a.m. working on finishing up a case. It was now a little after 6.

“No can do. Boss man called himself.” She slid into her lace black bralette and grabbed the first discarded t-shirt she could reach. She shoved her feet into her boots and stood. “Lock up, will ya? See ya there.” Danny gave her a limp wave from the bed, and she snorted. She threw her leather jacket around her shoulders and made her way down to her Tahoe.

…

The Crestmont loomed in front of her, and Nora took a second to peer up. This place had always given her the creeps. Shaking herself, she made her way inside, flashing her badge at the patrol officer out front. She made her way to the elevator, taking it all the way to the 15 floor. She could smell the latex and print powder as she stepped out of the doors. She smiled. It smelled like home. Even before Nora became an investigator herself, her dad had been doing the job, and he always came home smelling like the tools of the trade.

“Nora, over here,” Flack called, waving her over. She nodded and made her way carefully across the penthouse suite.

“What have we got” she questioned, grabbing gloves from her kit and snapping them on.

“Alexander Trenton. He was a judge. On his way to the Supreme Court.” Nora whistled and stooped to take a look at the body.

“Looks like a through and through. Execution style,” she remarked, standing up.

“Is that Danny’s shirt?” Flack questioned, wrinkling his forehead in confusion.

She froze and glanced down at herself. It was indeed Danny’s shirt.

“Oh, yeah. I spilled coffee on myself last night. He lent it to me, and it was just what I threw on this morning on the way out the door.” The lie was easy enough. She needed to be more careful.

“Hmm. Well, you might wanna change before Mac gets here.”

“Where is Father Dearest, anyway?”

“Mayor wanted a word.” Nora rolled her eyes.

“Of course.”

“You guys start the party without me?!” Danny demanded, coming out of the elevator carrying 3 coffees.

“Fashionably late, as always,” Nora teased, grabbing her camera to document the scene.

…

Nora was leaned over the desk in the print lab when someone spoke behind her.

“Detective Eleanor Taylor?”

“Nora,” she replied, placing her file down and turning around, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the light table.

“We would like a word,” replied the man; obviously a federal agent of some sort.

“We can talk in my office,” Mac replied, coming out of nowhere. He led the two agents and Nora to his office, where he shut the door.

“What’s this about?” Nora asked. She didn’t have time for their bureaucratic crap.

The second agent pulled out a file and passed it to Nora. “We believe you know this man.”

Nora opened the file and felt her stomach tighten. “Jared Weston,” she said, the words threatening to choke her.

“Yes. You attended North Peak Academy with him, did you not?”

“That was years ago. Why are you here? I haven’t seen him in 7 years.”

Another file was handed to her. She flicked through it briefly, spotting bloody crime scenes and pages of notes on victims. “Okay?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“In the last 6 months, 6 judges, 3 military personnel, and 4 police have been murdered from Virginia, to Boston, to Delaware. The M.O. is all the same. And all evidence points to someone with a serious grudge against the government.” Nora felt the blood leave her body. She thought he was just an angry kid. Mad at his parents. She never thought he’d do anything like this.

“If you know all of this. And you have evidence against him, why are you here?”

“We’re always one step behind, but we got a lead on his next victim.”

“Judge Trenton?” she questioned, feeling the pieces fall into place. The agents shared a confused face.

“We thought he was a possible target, but Detective Taylor, we think you’re his next target.”

“Me?! What the hell are you talking about?!”

“Weston has it out for you. We found his manifestoes on our last case. He talks about how you betrayed him. And how you’re worse than any of the others.”

“Betrayed him how?” Mac asked, speaking for the first time.

Nora swallowed against a dry throat. “I need a minute,” she croaked, slamming out of the room, and making her way as quickly as possible to the roof, bending over, roughly hugging herself in a demand for oxygen.

“Nora!” came the call, as Danny joined her on the roof. “Hey. Hey. It’s ok. What happened?” he demanded, pulling her into his chest.

“We were kids! We were scared! And we were pissed that our parents sent us to a fucking military academy! That place was hell, Danny, and he was the only bright spot of it! How the hell does this happen?!”

“Ok. Ok. Shhh. It’s ok. I’m right here. I gotcha.” He held her close, rocking her gently until she could breathe again. When he deemed it safe, he pulled her away a pushed a stray curl out of her face. “Now, tell me. What happened in there.”

“Jared went to North Peak too. And we bonded. His mom and dad were both in the military. And he hated them for sending him away to be trained to be like them. And I was mad and Mac for sending me away to a military school upstate. I felt like he didn’t want me. Like I was a fuck up and he wanted to get rid of me and have something better. So, we would sit behind the bleachers and smoke cigarettes and drink beer and rage against the machine. I thought it was all just angsty teenage bullshit. Then the towers were hit. And Claire was gone. And I was devasted. She was the only mom I’d ever known. And she was gone. And I was scared. I was so angry, Danny. I remember just screaming at the stars and demanding to know why any of that bullshit had happened to us. And Jared, Jared sat with me all night and screamed too. And the next morning, Mac came and took me home to finish my senior year at St. Agatha’s. And I never saw Jared again. Truth be told, I didn’t want to. He reminded me of how ungrateful, and angry, and hurt I was, and I didn’t want that. But then I became a cop. And I betrayed him. I left him. And I don’t know what happened to him. But now he kills people, Danny. And he wants to kill me. And hell, maybe I deserve that.”

“Hey! Look at me!” Grabbing her chin, Danny forced her to look up at him. “You do not deserve that. You were a child! And he was sick! And none of that was your fault! You did not do this! He did! You hear me?!” He pressed a firm but gentle kiss to her lips then her forehead and pulled her close again.

…

“We want to put you on 24-hour protection detail,” the FBI agent informed her, once she had relayed her story to them.

“We can do that in house,” Mac stated, folding his arms over his chest. He knew his people could protect his daughter better than the feds ever could. She was one of their own, and they took care of their own.

“I’ll do it,” Danny quickly stated, jumping into the conversation. He’d followed her back inside when she’d finally gained the courage to come in.

“Ok, who else can take a shift?” the agent asked, raising a brow at Mac.

“No, I mean I can be with her 24/7 until we catch this guy,” Danny said, standing straighter. The agent snorted, but Mac nodded.

“Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Roger, Boss.”

…

Nora tossed her keys into the bowl by the front door and kicked her boots off. It had been a hell of a day, and she needed a drink and a hot bath.

“I’m making myself a rum and coke and I’m gonna sit in a hot bath for an undetermined amount of time. Make yourself at home,” she informed, stripping her tee off and throwing it somewhere to her left.

“Pizza tonight?” Danny asked, leaning over to look into the fridge.

“Sure. Extra cheese.”

By the time Nora made it to the bathroom, she was down to her underwear. She had a cold glass of Bicardi and coke, which she sat down beside her claw foot tub, turning the water on, making sure it was hot enough, and adding some mint soak. After putting some music on her record player, she slid into the warm bubbles, sinking up to her neck. She sighed, feeling at least some of the day’s tension melt away.

Danny peeked into the bathroom, admiring Nora. She looked like a goddess, head laid back, surrounded by bubbles, singing softly to the Frank Sinatra playing in the background.

“See something you like, Messer?” she teased, opening one eye and raising her brow at him.

“Very much so,” Danny replied, coming in to kneel by the tub, dipping his finger under the water. “But, pizza’s here.”

“Mmm. Good, I’m starving. Give me five, and I’ll be out.”

“Sure thing.” Before leaving, Danny leaned down and gave Nora a deep kiss. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he urged, heading back to the living area.

When Nora emerged, she was wearing nothing but an overly large Led Zepplin t-shirt and a pair of black boyshorts. Danny had already set up the tv to reruns of The Golden Girls and had the pizza box open with a beer bottle on each side of the table. He gave her a grin. “Your feast, ma’am,” he joked, bowing for effect.

“Why thank you, sir. Truly, you do provide.” Nora took a seat on the couch, snagging the blue wool blanket from Danny’s end, snatching a slice of pizza, and hooking a beer with her ring finger and pinkie. Danny settled in close, lazily slinging his arm over her shoulder and sitting back with his own slice.

“Fuck, Danny! Don’t stop!” Nora moaned, looking down to catch Danny giving her a cheeky wink, delving even deeper into his ministrations. And Nora was almost there, but then someone knocked on the door.

“Nora, it’s Flack!”

“Fuck!” she hissed, pushing Danny away from between her legs. “C-coming, Flack!”

“Two words you don’t really wanna hear when going down on your girl,” Danny commented, wiping his face off on the duvet. Nora frowned.

“Shut it, Messer. Your girl?” She huffed, standing to locate her discarded underwear, tossing Danny his jeans and making her way to the front door. She checked to make sure Danny was decent before unlocking the door and opening it.

“Flack, what’s up? It’s late, man?”

“Nora, there’s another vic. Mac wanted me to come pick you guys up.”

“Shit. Ok, let me get my pants.”

“Jeffrey Conrad. 57. He’s an ex-homicide detective from Brooklyn,” Mac informed the second Nora got out of Flack’s car.

“Conrad? Why does that name sound familiar?” Nora questioned, grabbing a pair of gloves, ducking under the crime scene tape. Mac handed her a picture. It was of a greying man in a uniform. “Wait, Conrad. There was a kid at North Peak. Tyler…Tommy…”

“Trevor?” Mac replied.

“Yes! That’s it. Trevor, he was in our class. He killed himself a couple of years ago, I think.” Nora sighed, rubbing her temples. “He was always telling anyone who would listen how much of a bastard his dad was. I guess Jared blamed Trevor’s death on his dad.” Mac frowned. Nora could see that this case was wearing at him too. She tried not to give him a hard time. He was a single dad just trying to do what was best. And she knew he loved her, but she also knew how hellish North Peak had been. She gently touched her father’s arm. “Hey, listen. I know why you sent me to North Peak. I’m fine. Those other kids, their parents were terrible to them, but you weren’t like that to me. You and…” she gulped. “And Claire, you guys gave me a lot of good opportunities. You did your best. And I…I don’t blame you for anything.” Mac gave her a sad smile and nodded.

“I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry, Nora.” She gave him as soft smile.

“Mac! Nora!” Stella called from across the room. Sharing a brief glance at each other, Mac and Nora walked quickly to her side.

“What did you find, Stella?” Stella handed her a sealed envelope.

“It has your name on it.”

#csi ny #danny messer #mac taylor #stella

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wildwarcat · 4 years

Text

Warhawk: The Second Avenger

Alright y’all, I’ve been meaning to post this for months and I finally got around to it. This fic is available only on Fanfiction.com under the title above. If you like the prologue, which I’ve posted below, definitely check it out on Fanfiction. This is NOT a reader fic, it’s a preview of an OC-centric fanfiction posted on another site. Enjoy!

Words: 4k

Warnings: Language, implied smut, references to homophobia

Chapter One

Prologue

"The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of life, himself a light." ~ Felix Adler

Edwards Air Force Base, June 1987

I could not have asked for a more beautiful day than that of June twenty-second, 1987. I arose to the usual sound of my alarm clock at 0600 and was greeted by rays of an early summer sun shining down on the picturesque form with which I shared my bed. Captain Carol Susan Jane Danvers, a woman with a knack for flying and a personality as fiery as the afterburners of an F-15 snored gently next to me. Her long, blonde hair cascaded around her face in waves, framing her perfect features as she slept through the alarm. I reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her snoring stopped and a small giggle escaped her. Her beautiful brown eyes opened a sliver.

"Well, now I know you're not sleeping anymore." I laughed quietly, my hazel eyes gazing adoringly at her. She scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

"At least I get to open my eyes and see you lying next to me." She muttered into my chest, "Although, it'd be pretty nice to kiss my girlfriend when I see her on base later."

I sighed and pressed a kiss into Carol's hair, "You know we can't. Not if we want to keep our jobs. It's hard enough being women in the military. But if those shitheads knew about us, baby, they'd tear us to pieces."

Carol groaned, her face still buried in my neck. I laughed again and flung the covers off the both of us and slipping out of her grasp. Making my way into the bathroom before she could tackle me and drag me back into bed, I locked the door behind me and ran a hand through my tousled golden brown hair. My fatigues were folded on a towel rack next to the shower, my unit beret sat on the sink. Being a pilot, Carol was only seen wearing her flight suit on base, but being a part of command for the 31st TES like myself required a frequent change in attire. Dress uniform, fatigues, flight suit, repeat.

"Open up!" Carol rapped harshly on the door, "I need to shower."

"After what we did last night, I think we could both use one." I joked, unlocking the door. She burst in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before she turned the shower on.

"Paige Rose MacDowell, just what are you implying?" She asked me with a sultry tone, her brown eyes sparkling as she began to strip.

"Exactly what you're thinking, beautiful." I smirked, grabbing a brush and beginning to work through the knots in my hair, watching as her perfect form entered the shower.

As soon as I arrived on base, a Lieutenant Colonel, whose name I didn't know, dumped a touring group of potential recruits on me. As badly as I wanted to say no and take off running in the other direction, I took over the tour with a stiff smile, leading the group toward the tarmac.

"Anyone here interested in being a pilot?" I asked over the rumbling of F-15 engines. A majority of hands went up in the air. I even caught a glimpse of a few girls amongst the boys, hands raised up high.

"Well, first things first, y'all need to be accepted into the Air Force Academy or join a collegiate-level ROTC program. After you graduate, you'll be commissioned as Second Lieutenants, after which you can declare your intention to become an Air Force Pilot. Unfortunately, women aren't permitted to fly combat missions, but we have several test pilots here at Edwards that are women."

A pair of F-15s flew overhead, sending a rush of air over us. I smiled as I watched the jets move up into a barrel roll. I pointed the jets out to the group.

"In fact, two of our female pilots are flying right now: Captains Danvers and Rambeau."

"Major! Major MacDowell!" A newly minted Lieutenant... Rhodes, I think his name was, came jogging toward me, calling my name over the roar of the active tarmac.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" I asked him, gesturing to the tour group, "I'm very busy."

"I've been sent by Colonel Kissinger to inform you that you're to meet with him in his office immediately." The young soldier panted as he slowed to a brisk walk. I glanced warily over at the boy.

"This isn't another one of Captain Danvers' pranks, is it?"

The young man shook his head and handed me a folded piece of paper, "No, ma'am. He gave me this for you."

I unfolded the paper and saw that there was only two words printed on it.

'Project Rebirth.'

The words were unfamiliar to me. I didn't know what they meant. We were working on Project Pegasus here at Edwards, whatever this Project Rebirth was... it was something that I hadn't been briefed on.

"Lieutenant Rhodes, would mind taking over this tour for me? Just show them the hangar, let 'em take a look at a few F-15s up close, answer any questions. My sincerest apologies, folks, but this is an emergency."

I turned on my heel and took off running toward Colonel Kissinger's office, making it there in record time. I straightened my beret before stepping inside and giving the aged colonel a salute.

"Major Paige MacDowell, reporting, sir." I said sharply.

"At ease, Mac." Kissinger replied, standing up from his desk chair and making his way over to me. We shook hands and Kissinger immediately led me out of the office.

"What's going on, Bart? What's so urgent that you pulled me away from duties?" I asked, handing back his note. Kissinger said nothing, he simply opened the door to a conference room and stepped aside. I walked in, but when I turned around, I saw that Colonel Kissinger hadn't followed me inside. The lock on the door clicked, trapping me in the conference room.

"Major MacDowell," An unfamiliar, gravely voice addressed me from the other side of the room. There was an immediate air of distrust as I turned to see a man standing at the head of the conference table, a man I did not recognize. He was stout, with a terrible bowl cut on his pudgy head, and beady brown eyes. He wasn't dressed in a military uniform, but in a lab coat, on which the name Otto Octavius was stitched.

"My name is Dr. Otto Octavius. I've been employed by the United States military for a secret scientific project."

"Project Rebirth." I said quietly, taking a seat at my end of the table.

"Correct." Octavius took his own seat and folded his hands in front of himself, "I trust that aside from the name of the project, Colonel Bartholomew Kissinger told you no other details?"

"No, Doctor. He didn't." I answered politely.

Octavius smiled a grisly smile, "Excellent. Allow me to explain. I'm sure you're aware of the story of one Captain Steve Rogers?"

"Of course, who isn't?"

"Indeed. After Dr. Abraham Erskine, the lead scientist on the project, was killed, his Super Soldier Serum formula was believed to be lost forever. But, thanks to the efforts of a few select minds, we have successfully recreated the serum. The military has created a shortlist of soldiers who display exemplary qualities reminiscent of Captain Rogers, and from that list they have selected you to be our subject."

"So... what?" I deadpanned, leaning back in my chair and giving him a cold stare, "You expect me to crawl into a pod, get injected with a serum you aren't sure will work, and get blasted with Vita-Rays that could very well kill me? All because the big wigs selected me from a shortlist of soldiers who are nice?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds crude and inhumane." Octavius replied, chuckling a little to himself, "But there is no need to be concerned, my friend. We reverse engineered the serum using samples of Steve Rogers' blood. It is perfectly safe. And after looking over your record, I doubt you'll have any trouble enduring the physical strain the injection will put on you. Following the procedure, you will be assigned your first covert mission by General Chain. I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight, the procedure will take place at 0700 tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I stood from my chair and glared down at him, "I can't just drop everything on a whim to be a part of some science experiment! I have friends and family that will wonder what's happened to me!"

"Major, you have twenty-four hours to notify only your closest relatives and friends of your situation. Only those you can trust prior to the procedure should be informed."

I tried to come up with a decent counter-argument, but found that my mouth had gone dry, as though it had been stuffed with cotton.

I sat back down, "If I do this... I'm not gonna be like him. I'm not Captain America. For Christ's sake, my callsign is Warhawk, what does that tell you about me? I'm no Star-Spangled Woman. And I won't be turned into one. You turn me into a super soldier, and it'll only blow up in your face in the long run."

Octavius smiled, "I'd expect no less of an answer from one of the handful of women who served in the Invasion of Grenada. Now, no fluids or food of any kind beginning at 1800 hours tonight, absolutely no alcohol for the next twenty-four hours. You may bring one person with you to the procedure, should you feel the need to have a witness present." Octavius said, standing from his own chair and making his way over to me. He extended his hand, which I shook out of sheer politeness, before handing me a file, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Major MacDowell. I shall see you bright and early tomorrow."

He went to the door, knocked three times and the door unlocked. The doctor left, and soon I followed, greeted by Colonel Kissinger on the other side of the doorway.

"Are you alright, Major? You're looking a bit pale." Kissinger asked me.

"Fine, Colonel. I just need an hour or two to process what I've just been told." I replied, straightening up a bit and returning to my office. Maybe a bit of paperwork would pull my mind away from the suddenly lingering sensation of dread that had set in me during my conversation with Otto Octavius.

Returning home from base was less than delightful. I had made it my personal mission to avoid Carol and Maria all day. Dr. Lawson agreed to be my witness for the procedure, but that didn't stop me from staying late in an attempt to delay having to explain everything to Carol.

"Took you long enough to get home." Carol called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped through the threshold. She ran out to meet me, a couple of beer bottles in hand. I sidestepped her and set my things down in my study a few doors down the hall. Carol followed me, shoving a beer into my hands as soon as they were free.

"You look like you could use a drink, babe." She smiled, pressing her lips to mine quickly.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't." I apologized, handing the bottle back to her.

"Of course you can! Just-" She raised her own bottle and took a long swig. She held the second bottle out to me and looked at me expectantly.

"No, Carol, I really can't." I said, pushing her hand away, "We need to talk."

She set both beer bottles down on my desk and grabbed my hand. For the first time in the years that I had known her, concern flooded her face, her brown eyes wide. I took a deep breath, gave her hand a firm squeeze.

"The higher ups are rebooting the Super Soldier Program. I'm their test subject. I go in for the procedure tomorrow."

I waited for the explosion of anger that usually followed any news Carol wasn't informed of at an earlier notice, but it never came. Rather, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, a pair of lips met mine with a ferocity and intensity unlike any I had experienced before.

"I love you." She blurted out as soon as she pulled away. I tensed up; we hadn't gotten that far in our relationship before. I must've looked like I was going to throw up or something, because Carol's face grew concerned again, "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." I choked out, setting a gentle hand on her cheek, "Better than okay, actually. I... I love you too."

She smiled, that signature lopsided, cocky, adorable half-grin that made me melt every time she sent it my way. I set an arm around her waist and led her toward the kitchen.

"C'mon. Sit down, finish your beer, and I'll give you the details."

I told her everything. About Octavius and Project Rebirth, about General Chain. She listened silently for the most part, maybe an occasional question here or there. When I was done, I waited for her to say something, anything. When she did, it was only a simple question.

"So... you're gonna become Captain America?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her empty beer bottle, tossing it in the trash, "Not exactly. I'll be more of a new and improved version of myself. The way Octavius put it, it sounds like I'll become the best version of myself."

"You said you could bring someone with you. Do you want me to come?" She asked, a twinge of hope in her voice. I shook my head.

"I don't think I want my girlfriend seeing me in immense pain as I'm battered with Vita-Rays. I called Dr. Lawson earlier; she'll be my witness." I told her, taking her hand as I sat next to her again, "But I don't know when I'll see you again after this. General Chain is sending me on my first covert op as soon as I step out of that pod."

Carol leaned over, pressing her forehead to mine and letting her beautiful brown eyes flutter shut, "Then we better make tonight as memorable as possible."

The sun was just beginning to rise as I slowed my truck to a halt in the parking lot of the Stark Industries Research and Development Park. The file that Dr. Octavius had given me contained only a single piece of paper with directions to the park and the time of the procedure. I stepped out of the truck and made my way to the front door, where an unfamiliar man stood waiting for me.

"Major, I'm Agent Fury, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

I smirked, "Ever thought about just calling your agency, S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"We've considered it." He replied, holding the door open for me. I stepped inside and let Agent Fury take the lead, bringing me down the empty hall into a maze of research labs and test rooms.

"Has Dr. Lawson arrived?" I asked him.

"I wasn't informed of it, Major. I'm just here to bring you to the lab. I won't be in the room for the procedure, Director's orders." Fury explained, coming to a stop in front of one of the research labs near the rear of the building, "Good luck."

I nodded once and opened the door. When I walked in, every scientist and government official in the room froze, eyes locked on me for a moment, before they went back to work.

"Major MacDowell." A woman's voice, clearly British and one I didn't recognize, approached me. I turned to see an older woman walking toward me, her eyes kind yet fierce, her ruby red smile polite. She extended her hand which I shook firmly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Peggy Carter, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We'll be working very closely after today, so I thought it ideal to be here for your procedure."

"Director Carter, it's an honor. My father served in the 107th, I grew up hearing stories about you and Captain Rogers." I told her. At the mention of Rogers, her gaze turned sad, but it returned to its original state just as quickly as it had changed.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of our associates." She offered, leading me out to the main floor, "You've already met Dr. Octavius, of course, and General Chain, I'm sure you're familiar with. Here, we have Howard Stark-"

Of course I knew who Howard Stark was, anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew who he was. He wasn't the spry, handsome, young playboy he once was, but he still had an air of brilliance about him; an air he had most definitely passed on to his son, Tony. Stark smiled warmly at me and shook my hand.

"Major MacDowell, we're looking forward to seeing what will become of you after today." He said, "Though, I doubt anyone could top the efforts of Steve Rogers. No offense."

"None taken, Mr. Stark."

"Please, call me Howard." He insisted.

"Then by all means, everyone here should call me Mac. My entire battalion does." I smiled.

"At least there's someone here who isn't trying to turn into a carbon copy of Rogers." A nasally voice remarked from across the room. Leaning against a set of computers was a man about twenty or so years younger than Stark, with a bit of a bored expression on his face.

"And this is Dr. Hank Pym. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s consulting scientists." Director Carter said politely. He didn't wave or anything, but I acknowledged him with a small nod, which seemed to be enough for him. As she began to list of the names of a few other military officials and a couple of senators, I found my gaze drawn to the pod at the center of the room.

This was happening... it was really happening.

"Major, are you ready?" Stark asked me. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Excellent." Dr. Octavius walked over to me and shook my hand, "Please remove your shirt, shoes and dog tags."

I did as instructed, leaving on only my fatigue pants and a black sports bra. The pod lowered itself until it was parallel to the floor, Octavius motioned for me to lay down on it. I looked up at the observation room that sat in the northwest corner of the room, letting out a small sigh of relief when I saw Dr. Lawson standing there next to General Chain. She offered me a small nod of reassurance and I set myself down on the bed. A couple of nurses began prepping the serum while another one prepped my shoulder for an injection.

"Nurse Reilly will now administer a precautionary dose of penicillin." Stark informed me as the nurse sent a needle deep into my arm and hit the plunger.

"Let's get this over with then." Pym sighed. Director Carter made her way up to the observation room while Stark grabbed a microphone and began to give a little spiel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, officers and senators, welcome. While it may seem like a lifetime ago, it wasn't so many years back that I stood in a room similar to this to witness the rebirth of Captain Steven Grant Rogers. And today, we are here to witness the rebirth of the super soldier era. Major Paige MacDowell, today you become not only the first in a new line of soldiers, you become the first in a new line of heroes."

There was a bit of applause from the observation room before Stark set the microphone down and turned to Octavius.

"Dr. Octavius, let's begin."

Injection pads lowered themselves onto my shoulders, my stomach and my legs with the press of a button. With the press of another, small cylindrical vials filled with bright blue liquid began to drain. There was a sharp, pinching pain all throughout my body, as though a lightning bolt had been sent through me. The pod began to lift me up until I was perpendicular to the ground. After a minute or two the pain subsided.

"Serum injection complete. Preparing for Vita Radiation." Octavius announced. The pod began to close itself, sealing me inside. Once the pod locked shut, someone knocked on it from the other side.

"Mac, you okay in there?" Howard Stark's muffled voice asked me.

"Yeah," I replied loudly, "Though I think I may be claustrophobic after this."

I heard a few laughs on the other side, I must've been mic'd up. Suddenly, the small window that I had became invisible as a white light filled the pod. At first, the presence of the light sent a tingling sensation through my body. But as the light became brighter, the tingling became a dull, steady pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light continued to grow brighter and pain grew sharper. I bit back the desire to yell in pain until it became too unbearable to handle. The sound that escaped me was unrecognizable, almost animalistic, but it fell away almost instantaneously when the light disappeared and the pain subsided.

The pod opened up with a steam-filled hiss and suddenly a rush of cool air greeted me. Stark and Pym rushed over and helped me down when the injection pads removed themselves. From a glance, I realized that I now stood an inch or two taller, so that I matched both scientists in height. I looked down and saw a well-defined four-pack, in fact, every muscle in my body seemed to have been given a major tune up. I felt... new, like I was a mint condition action figure just taken out of the box.

Director Carter and General Chain came jogging out of the observation room, Lawson seemed frozen in place.

"How do you feel, kid?" Pym asked me as we came to a stop.

"Fantastic." I panted, a dopey grin on my face, "Like I could do a triathlon and run straight into a marathon without breaking a sweat."

"That's good to hear." General Chain said, "Because from here on out, you work for Director Carter."

My grin fell away, delight replaced by confusion, "What do you mean, Chain?"

Carter smiled softly, "I believe the good general means to welcome you to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent MacDowell."

"So when you said we'd be working closely, this is what you meant." I said in understanding. I paused for a moment, then looked her in the eye, "Working under a woman of your caliber will be an honor. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it without question."

"Spoken like a true soldier." She remarked, a playful smile gracing her lips, "But you're not a soldier anymore, Paige. You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, which means that you're first and only priority is doing what you believe is right to make the world safe. Is that clear?"

"As crystal, ma'am." I answered. She extended her hand to me. I shook it, and followed her out of the room, into a new chapter.

#carol danvers x reader #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #avengers fandom #marveledit #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #natasha romanov x reader #avengers x reader #original character #avengers endgame #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #peter parker x reader

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

3x10: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Then:

The show keeps reminding us that Dean’s going to Hell, so enjoy his pretty face while you can

Now:

Bobby stalks his house at night. He’s suddenly attacked ---and we flash to him in a motel room, unconscious. A maid wanders in and finds him. He’s inside his mind fighting whatever haunts him.

Dean finds Sam getting day-drunk at a bar. Sam laments the fact that he tried saving Dean. Dean settles in beside his brother and orders a “whisky, double, neat.”

Sam is beside himself thinking about where Dean’s going, and what he’s going to become. “How can you care so little about yourself?” Sam wonders. (WE ALL WONDER.) Dean’s saved by a phone call and the brothers rush to the hospital to find Bobby comatose. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him.

(Ooh, I forgot that Cathryn Humphris wrote this episode. So good.)

The brothers look around Bobby’s motel room. Sam finds his murder board in the back of the closet. They find an obit of a doctor that went to sleep and never woke up. Bobby must have been looking into the doctor’s death.

Dean heads to the doctor’s office and interviews his lab assistant. Apparently the doctor was an expert in dream and sleep disorders. The lab assistant doesn’t really want to talk. She already talked to the other detective, the “very nice, older man with a beard.”

Dean threatens the woman with a trip down to the station. The assistant swears she didn’t know anything about his side experiments. Dean bluffs his way into getting the doctor’s research. Good job, Dean!

He next heads to one of Doctor Greg’s test subjects. Dude offers Dean a beer, and Dean accepts. Hmm, I’m questioning your professionalism as much as the dude is Dean. Anyway, turns out the guy can’t dream. The study was the first time he had a dream since he was a kid. The guy didn’t continue with the study.

At the hospital, Dean and Sam meet up. Sam brings research on the African Dream Root that was part of the dream study. This stuff has been used for dreamwalking (but not like Jack and Kaia dreamwalking…). It lets someone wander in someone else’s dreams. With enough of the root and practice, you can start to control things, changing dreams. “Killing people in their sleep,“ Dean suggests. YEP.

The boys wonder why Bobby is still alive.

We get a glimpse into Bobby’s dream. He’s barely holding on. BOBBY.

The brothers theorize who the killer is --probably one of the test subjects. Sam laments the fact that they can’t talk to Bobby about the case. Dean suggests taking the dream root. They realize that in order to do that they need Bela.

Later, Bela arrives at the motel. Sam’s there alone. Bela almost instantly turns on the sexy time, and Sam is VERY responsive.

Alas, it was just a dream and Dean wakes Sam and tells him he was making some “serious happy noises.” OH SAM.

Dean wants to know who Sam was dreaming about but Sam wont tell. Let’s take a moment and add that Dean’s guesses are: One (1) Angelina Jolie. Two (2) Brad Pitt. DUDE, quit projecting so hard.

Anyway, Bela arrives, much to the discomfort of Sam (and his pants).

She’s brought the African dream root for Bobby. Dean puts the root with the Colt in Bobby’s safe and kicks Bela out of the room. Sam awkwardly bids her adieu.

The brothers concoct their dream potion to save Bobby. It includes some of Bobby’s hair.

They drink the concoction and feel no change. Sam then notices that it’s raining. It’s actually raining upside down --and they’re at Bobby’s house. It’s cleaned up. They start walking around calling for Bobby.

Sam tells Dean he’s heading outside to look. He walks outside and it’s sunny and the birds are chirping. And when he tries to go back inside, the door won’t open. Dean can’t hear him from the inside either.

Dean continues to wander the house. He wanders to the back closet and finds Bobby.

Dean tells him they’re using dream root to share his dream, but Bobby’s locked firmly in Dream Mode. He’s more focused on the flickering lights in his house. “She’s coming,” he pants. And his wife walks in, bloody and terrible. Oh Bobby :( She asks him why he stabbed her to death. He pleads for her to understand that he didn’t know about monsters back then. OOF. Hard stuff.

Meanwhile, Sam’s walking through a laundry detergent commercial.

The doctor’s former test subject suddenly shows up, whacks Sam with a baseball bat, and then declares himself “a god” in the shared dream. Well, that ALWAYS ends well on this show!

Dean pleads with Bobby to let go of the nightmare Karen who’s pounding and wailing on the other side of the door. “I’m not gonna let you die,” Dean promises, because Bobby’s “like a father” to him. BRB WEEPING. Bobby uses the power of FILIAL LOVE to control the dream, and the pounding stops.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby snap awake at the same time (preventing Sam “Head Trauma” Winchester from getting another blow with a bat).

Later, Dean asks Bobby about Karen. THIN ICE TERRITORY! “Everybody got into hunting somehow,” Bobby explains. Sam breaks into the soulful moment with an update on the dream dude. Jeremy Frost is a genius whose dad whacked him in the head with a bat as a child. Jeremy never dreamed after that - not until he started using dream root. Now he can trample into people’s dreams with a bit of their body - like hair, or in Bobby’s case, saliva. Bobby sipped some beer when he talked to Jeremy. Dean looks abashed. He….MIGHT have drunk a beer at Jeremy’s as well. Now that both Dean and Bobby are targets, the stakes are raised. It’s time for operation STAY AWAKE.

Two Days Later

Dean is EXTREMELY GRUMPY. It’s been two days, they haven’t found Jeremy, and he is missing his sleep desperately. #RELATABLE Bela and Bobby continue to work the case from the hotel with no luck. At the end of his tether, Dean pulls the car over and settles in for a snooze in the danger zone. He’s going to confront Jeremy on his own turf. Sam swipes one of Dean’s hairs and prepares to join Dean’s dream root nap.

They wake up in the car, still in the woods at the side of the road. Suddenly, Dean’s movie reel mind spins up a gentle song and soft autumn colors and THERE sits Lisa in a clearing. She’s wind-rumpled and gorgeous, dressed in soft yellow and waiting for Dean at a romantic picnic in the park.

For My Heart Aches for Dean Science:

Excuse me while I cry in Dean’s face for thirty minutes. Sam did not expect his brother to be so damn soft. “I’ve never had this dream before,” Dean protests.

Lisa blinks out and Jeremy peeks around a tree. It’s chase time! The dream transitions to the hotel hallway, now papered in a forest print. At the end of the hallway is a door that leads to a dimly lit room. Inside the gloomy room, Dean sits at a desk.

Other!Dean greets himself (very polite) and tells himself that it’s time to talk. “I’m my own worst nightmare,” Dean smirks. He GETS the symbolism, and it’s BORING. Except that Other!Dean immediately peels away Dean’s bravado. He tells him that Dean is dead inside and worthless (and we bundle this man up into blankets and plop him into therapy!)

Dean can’t make the apparition disappear, and Other!Dean quickly takes control. The door slams, trapping them inside the hotel room.

Sam wakes up back in the Impala and tries to wake up Dean, but Dean’s turned into Jeremy. Jeremy explains that he killed the doctor so he can keep using dream root and DREAM. He binds Sam to the ground.

Other!Dean continues to say every terrible thing Dean thinks about himself and it is HARD. TO. LISTEN. TO. THIS. SHIT. Everything about Dean is patterned after his father, and geared towards protecting Sam. There’s nothing TO Dean, Other!Dean argues, other than being “Daddy’s blunt little instrument.”

Dean snaps at last. “My father was an obsessed bastard!” he shouts. And the fight begins. “I didn’t deserve what he put on me, and I don’t deserve to go to Hell!” DEAN!!!! BRB weeping some more! Dean shoots his other self, but what should be a moment of psychological triumph quickly goes south. Other!Dean wakes with black eyes and Demon!Dean gleefully tells him that there’s no escaping his fate. He’ll die, go to Hell, and become a demon.

Sam’s in dire straits. He’s still bound to the ground, with Jeremy hovering above him with a baseball bat. In a moment reminiscent of Princess Bride, Sam metaphorically switches the sword to his right hand and reminds Jeremy that he ALSO took dream root and has control of the dream. Jeremy’s dad barges out of the forest, a screaming terror of a parent, and Jeremy’s eyes go wide. Sam whacks Jeremy with the bat while he’s distracted, and both Sam and Dean’s dreams dissolve. They’re back in the waking world, in the Impala. Jeremy’s threat has been neutralized.

Later, Sam and Bobby debrief in the hotel hallway. Bobby’s glad Sam saved them, but wonders if Sam’s psychic abilities came into play. Ummmm definitely not? Probably definitely not? Almost certainly definitely possibly.

Dean’s having trouble tracking down Bela. Bobby wonders why she was helping them in the first place. “Flagstaff,” Dean explains. This doesn’t make sense to Bobby - he just cut her a good deal on a sale there, that’s all. It dawns on the Winchesters that they may have been played. They head to the hotel safe to discover the Colt missing.

At the Impala, Dean asks Sam what he saw in the shared dream. UM NOTHING. Dean also says he didn’t see a damn thing! He was just focused on trying to find Sam. Bbys plz. Dean clears his throat awkwardly and confesses (in a tone one might use to confess to wearing ladies’ undergarments) that he doesn’t want to die. Sam promises to find a way to save him. Dean flashes back to his dream one more time, just so it’s seeped into our hearts. We see Demon!Dean taunting Dean about his fate. Demon!Dean snaps his fingers, a cruel grin on his face, and the episode cuts to black.

Mister Quoteman, Send Us a Quote:

No one can save you, because you don't wanna be saved. How can you care so little about yourself?

Thanks for the news flash, Edison!

Dean. I love you

What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?

You can’t escape me, Dean. You’re gonna die. And this? This is what you’re gonna become!

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 3x10 #dream a little dream of me #dean winchester #Dean Winchester Sam Winchester #bobby singer #Bela Talbot #Lisa Braeden #Supernatural season 2 #supernatural season 3

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flowerpowell · 4 years

Text

Unexpected (Drake x MC)

PART FIFTEEN

A/N: So... Dani and Liam kinda took over this chapter but I hope it’s okay. I promise it is getting somewhere! Also, sorry for the delay in posting, I had a hard time with writing anything. Also x2, this chapter may suck because I think I forgot how to write in English. Pardonne-moi.

Rating: PG

Word count: 2256

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @desireepow-1986 @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @kingliam2019 @the-soot-sprite @thequeenofcronuts @badchoicesposts @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography @alesana45 @axwalker @walkerduchess @ao719 @texaskitten30 @lodberg @cordonianroyalty @emichelle @siriusxxvideos @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @samihatuli @choices-lurker @i-miss-trr @drxkewalker @nikkis1983 @innerpostmentality @msjr0119 @bascmve01 @mind-reader1 @edgiestwinter @drakesensworld @queenjilian @princessleac1 @saivilo @yukinagato2012 ♥

“Hey, can you please pass the charger?”

Dani looked up from her bed and wordlessly threw the charger at her sister.

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to call Drake?” She asked but already knew the answer. It had been a few weeks since Riley moved out from Drake’s cabin and moved into Dani’s hotel room. She said she talked with Drake but decided it was better for them to stay separate. She still visited him when it was his turn with Bartie.

“Nah, I’m just looking at furniture for my restaurant.”

“Riley...”

“Please, Dani, stop. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ri, it’s been weeks. You’ve seen the lab results, Drake didn’t do anything wrong, he was tricked!”

“I know. And this is why I shouldn’t be with him.”

“That makes no sense.” Dani shook her head.

Riley swallowed hard before blurting out, “we both will be safer that way.”

Dani turned to her and sat down on the bed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... It’s better for us if we’re not together.”

“But--”

“I tried to love my parents but they didn’t care about me. I loved my grandma and she left me. I... liked Drake and he got drugged. I just... I need to accept the fact that I should be alone.”

“This is nonsense! Riley, people--”

“Dani, please. I made my decision. I just wish Drake would hate me already. It’d be easier for us.” She said quietly. Drake tried to talk to her, call her but she wouldn’t answer back. She expected him to give up but he never did. Never... until this week. It was Thursday and he hadn’t called for the whole week. Riley wasn’t sure if what she felt was a relief or a hearbreak.

Dani shook her head. She loved her sister but couldn’t understand her. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t fix her sister’s relationship. She had to do it herself.

Dani had been meeting up with Liam for the past few weeks, trying to figure out the way to bring Drake and Riley together but nothing seemed to work. Nothing because Riley was too stubborn.

She looked at her phone and read a message from Liam.

“You’re smiling like an idiot. Is it Liam?” Riley asked and Dani looked at her sister innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I need to go though. And I might pick up some coffee to wake me up,” she added.

“What’s up with you and coffee? You always hated it!”

“I never hated it, it just always made me feel like I was having a heart attack. But I’ve been so tired recently that coffee is the only thing that keeps me awake.”

“Man, you must be pretty stressed,” Riley murmured and went back to scrolling.

“Yeah, well, my sister is now living with me because she had an argument with her husband, my brother-in-law was drugged and my father is sending me to law school. I guess I am pretty stressed,” she answered and her eyes widened in horror. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound so passive aggressive. I’m just really tired.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know about the law school. Why did you agree? You hate law!”

“Do you remember the last time I tried to disagree with father? This is why.”

“Dani... Maybe you should talk to him. And stop caring so much about everything. It only makes you sick!”

“Someone has to care,” Dani replied and. Riley sighed.

“You know... Not everything that’s weighing you down is yours to carry.”

Dani looked at her, surprised, but Riley was already focused on her phone. She shook her head and left the room.

~~~~

“I talked to Drake, he’s ready to give up,” Liam told Dani as they were drinking coffee. “He’s tired of not knowing why Riley is acting the way she is acting.”

“I know, I’d be pretty frustrated too. But he can’t give up. Riley... is a mess. She has many issues she needs to figure out but I’m sure she’ll finally realize she wants to be with Drake.”

Liam sighed, “I just hope it won’t be too late.”

He took empty mugs and put them back on the drawer. Dani walked up to Liam’s desk and looked at his laptop.

“Is that the footage from Savannah and Betrand’s disappearance?” she asked and chucked when Liam raised an eyebrow. “Riley told me everything.”

“Yes. The first one is what our police found and the second one was lost but Madeleine’s detective found it and she gave it to us.”

“Madeleine, huh. And it’s not fake?” Dani asked as she watched the two videos carefully.

“Nope. The footage is legit. No editing, no photoshop, no--”

“NAILS!”

“No nails?” Liam asked. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“No! I mean, look!” Dani took Liam’s hand and paused the video. “The first footage, they go in. Look at her nails,” she zoomed in a little. “Perfect manicure. Love the color though. I wish my father let me wear dark polish too.”

“Okay, manicure. What about it?”

“Look at the second video, the one taken an hour later. She has pretty much no polish on! Either her nails grow extremely fast or she chipped it or...”

“Or?”

“Or the video was taken much later. Like, about three, four weeks later. Which would kinda explain why both of them look a bit stiff.”

Liam swallowed hard as he felt dizzy. He sat down and looked at Dani. “How did you even notice that?”

“I work in a bank, remember? Noticing the details is a part of my job. Plus, I’m kinda obsessed with dark manicure.”

“You’re wonderful, you know that?” Liam asked before realized he said it out loud. Dani blushed.

“Yes, well, umm, so that means... they were kept somewhere. And are alive. Or at least were so the video could have been taken.”

“Seems like it,” Dani nodded.

“And if you say her manicure was around a month old, it’s the time between us finding out they are gone and Drake’s outburst at Madeleine in the court.”

Dani’s face lit up. “That’d make perfect sense, she recorded the video so Drake would stop suspecting they’re still in Karlington!”

“I need to call Drake.”

“And I’ll call Riley!”

A whole thirty minutes later, Drake was watching the footage with his fists clenched and anger written all over his face. Riley was seated in the other corner of the room, comparing pictures of Savannah’s hand that Liam quickly printed.

“I hate them. I HATE THEM!” Drake hit the table, spilling the tea from his mug. “I’m gonna make them pay for what they did to my sister. THIS BI--”

“Drake!” Liam raised his voice. “Please. I know you’re angry but--”

“Angry? Just angry? I am furious and I’m going to show this little spoiled brat what--”

“Drake! She can’t know we know or everything will get lost,” Liam explained and Drake sat down, breathing heavily. “We need more evidence. Her manicure is not really gonna be enough,” Dani added, offering him a fresh cup of tea.

“So what, I’m supposed to sit and do nothing?”

“Not nothing, just acting as if everything is normal so we can gather more evidence.”

“I can’t do that, my sister might still be alive and she’s in danger!”

“Oh my gosh, Drake, just sit your ass down and stop making a bigger mess!” Riley yelled, stunning everyone.

“Why are you so mad? What do you want from me?!” Drake asked, raising his voice Dani flinched.

“A divorce,” she answered, quietly this time.

“Great then, because that’s exactly what I want too. Who needs a wife who doesn’t even care about her husband being drugged. Liam, divorce us now.”

Liam’s eyes widened and he looked at Dani who only shook her head ‘no’.

“I-I can’t can’t,” he said and Dani showed him a thumb up.

“What do you mean you can’t? You said you’d annul our marriage!” Riley inquired.

Liam looked at Dani again, panicking, and Dani started showing him some strange gestures. He shook his head to let her know he didn’t understand but Riley noticed that and looked at her sister as well. Dani quickly stopped gesturing and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to be admiring it.

“Because... a new law has just been introduced!” Liam lied and nodded his head as if to make it more believeable. Riley narrowed her eyes.

“New law? About divorce?” Drake asked, confused.

“Yes, new divorce law. It says that the couple has to be married for at least a year before annuling their marriage. Sorry guys, my hands were tied.”

“Aren’t you the King?” Riley asked.

“Umm, yes but... but...”

“The referendum!” Dani cut in. “Liam couldn’t do much, the nobles voted him out!”

“Exactly!” Liam nodded.

Drake looked puzzled and Riley was looking between Liam and Dani.

“Right,” she said. “Anyway, I gotta go. Let me know if you find out something!”

“The in-depth analysis of the footage should be tomorrow,” Liam told her and she nodded in understanding before leaving.

“Well, I should be going too,” Drake said and started heading out.

“She still cares a lot about you, you know,” Dani said and Drake turned to her. He looked conflicted.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“You two will be fine, I know it. Just give her time, please,” she asked and Drake nodded slowly, before exiting the office.

“That was close,” Liam whispered after a few minutes of silence.

“Too close. But good thinking with the new law!”

“Good thinking with the referendum! We make a good team, don’t we?” he smiled softly at her and she retured the gesture. He felt his heart skipping a beat a little.

Stop it. It’s not gonna happen, stop hoping for it like an idiot.

~~~~

“Are you sure you really can’t go?” Riley asked her sister for the tenth time that day.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I feel too sick,” Dani rasped. She was lying in her bed, feeling miserable.

“And this is not just an excuse so I’ll be there with Drake?” Riley raised an eyerbow.

“Liam will be there as well. I wanted to come, I promise. I just feel terrible.”

“Well... Okay. Feel better soon, then,” Riley hugged her sister and headed out, leaving Dani alone.

Dani groaned as she buried her face in the pillow. She was lying for a few hours, mindlessly watching funny videos of dogs online when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she answered, assuming it was either Riley or her parents.

“Hi.”

She sat straight immediately after hearing his voice. Seeing Liam there, in her hotel room, while being in her pajamas, was the last thing she expected to happen that day.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to cover herself with the comforter. Despite the fact that Liam had seen her naked before, she still felt weird about him seeing her like that.

“Riley told me you are sick so... I wanted to check on you,” he smiled at her sheepishly. “I also brought soup that my mom used to make for me and it always made me feel better.”

“Thank you, that’s so... thoughtful,” she smiled at him, trying to swallow a giant lump that was formed in her throat. There was a King in her hotel room. A King who just brought her a soup because she felt sick. And she was in her pajamas that had little Mickey mouse faces all over it.

While Dani was internally panicking, Liam took out the jar with the soup and heated it a little in the microwave.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” he warned her as she took the jar from his hands. He sat down next to her when she was eating the soup and filled her with everything he found out after the analysis. It felt almost strange. Nice but... strange. It felt cozy. It felt home. It felt dangerously good and Dani was scared.

At some point, Dani finished the soup and lay down for a bit and Liam joined her. They were lying on her bed together, on two different sides on her small bed, both silently looking at the ceiling, their index fingers intertwined.

No words were exchanged but the silence still felt good. And if only they could hear each other’s thoughts, they’d be surprised at how similar there were.

I know I’m not perfect, I know I made a lot of mistakes but please, let me stay in Cordonia with him. Let something happen so I can stay here with him. Give me a sign, anything. I can’t imagine not being here.

I’m so ungrateful, I know. I know I shouldn’t be asking for this but please. Please, make something happen so that she stays here. Anything so that we could be together. I know I probably don’t deserve this but I’ll do everything to make her happy. I can’t imagine being without her.

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wienerbarnes · 5 years

Text

Whatever It Takes (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1,491

Prompt: Doctor AU

Warnings: mentions to medical diseases?

A/N: this series is my submission for @sgtjbuccky and @jaamesbbarnes‘s writing challenge! ill be updating this story every friday at 8 pm est but anyone is free to send me an ask to be added to the taglist :) also! this story is based off of season 4 episode 6 of house m.d., in case anyones curious ;)))

SERIES MASTERLIST

Monday morning has you in your office of the Weill Cornell Medical Center in New York; the hospital that has claimed you has the Head of the Diagnostic Medicine Department for several years now. A beautiful and private hospital, orange rose bushes adorning the perimeter of every building, and a smaller workplace to house you, one of the most brilliant medical geniuses of your generation; specialty in infectious disease. Surrounding you are the two doctors that make up your team; Dr. Teddy Abraham and Dr. Nikki Jordan, specialties in immunology and neurology, respectively. Two incredibly smart doctors that you hired to help you solve case after case and keep people happy and healthy; they are probably the smartest decisions you’ve made in your career.

Sunlight beaming in through the window in your office on the sixth floor of the hospital, you throw a slightly dirty tennis ball against the piece of wall above the frame of the window and catch it as it bounces back to you. You tune in and out of whatever Abraham is explaining to you as you focus on catching the ball each time.

“20 year old female with visual and auditory processing deficiency. I did a consult-“ Dr. Abraham continues. Dr. Abraham joined your team about six years ago and is one of the few remaining doctors able to put up with you.

“What kind of race car does she drive?” You interrupt, catching the ball and glancing at him.

Although you have solved nearly every medical case brought to your attention, you’re seen as a bit… misanthropic. Definitely not a “helping-hand” kind of person.

“Dragster.” Abraham responds, smirk growing on his face and he sees your attention gravitating more and more to the case.

You ponder for a moment, “Okay, continue.” You prompt him, going back to throwing the tennis ball again.

“You’re gonna take a case based on the kind of car she drives?” Dr. Jordan asks, the other doctor with a patience thick enough to handle your antics. Although she puts up with you, the annoyance on her face is always visible.

“Nothing says ‘Thanks for saving my life’ like a car that accelerates faster than the space shuttle.” You defend.

“Well, there’s nothing to save because she’s not dying. Lab tests showed signs of dehydration, she probably got heatstroke.” Jordan inquires, hoping that you’ll become disinterested in the case and take on one that actually requires work.

“Kinda hard to get heatstroke in four and a half seconds,” You argue sarcastically.

“Not when you’re wearing a three-layer fireproof suit.” She quips back.

The conversation is interrupted by the sound of your office door opening. Everyone in the room freezes and eyes widen as Sergeant James Barnes, World War II veteran and current Avenger, steps inside; long-sleeve, black shirt with the Avengers’ “A” printed on the left breast and black tactical pants donning his body, large handgun decorating his hip. Deadpan expression on his face and hair pulled loosely in a low bun, the guy does some good cosplay, you think. Of course that’s not the real Bucky Barnes! You’re a measly doctor in a random private hospital, why would Bucky Barnes be here?

“A little early for a Halloween costume, huh, buddy?” You tease. There’s no possible way anyone from the Avengers would come close to this place. Sure, it’s a nice hospital, but what does a super human who has access to some of the best medical professions in the world have any business roaming around this hospital? Probably some prank from one of the cleaning ladies or a patient who holds a grudge.

“Are you the Head of the Diagnostic Medicine Department?” He questions, serious look and furrowed eyebrows never easing from his face.

Your fellow colleagues look at you to see what your response will be, as well as to see if they can somehow figure out why the Avengers are looking for you.

“Uh, no, actually, she called in sick again. I can leave her a message, though, if you’d like.” You excuse as Sergeant Barnes walks up to your desk, reaching into his back pocket.

He pulls out a photo. A photo of you. Specifically, the photo you didn’t want to take for the hospital website. I didn’t want to take that picture for this exact reason; it would cause me problems with the government.

“May we talk in private, Doctor?” The soldier politely asks.

Everyone stares and awaits to see what you’ll do or say. You glance at your employees before slowly standing.

“So… either it’s heatstroke and we can all leave early, or it’s one of the diagnoses that you two will have for me in…” You glance at the Avenger and back to your team, “Five minutes.” You decide.

You walk towards the door and Bucky follows you out into the hallway.

As the door shuts behind him, you look him up and down.

“So, you’re an Avenger?” You ask, mocking tone evident in your voice. You gotta hand it to him, this guy’s a great look alike.

“One of our agents recently came back sick from a mission, many of the doctors at the Avengers Tower believe that he was a victim of an assassination attempt.” He ignores your question and gets straight to the reason he’s here.

Bucky Barnes has heard a lot about you. You’re considered a medical genius and are known around the world for your intelligence. But he never imagined someone so smart could be so immature. He thought he’d have the pleasure of encountering some world-class expert in all things medicine, someone with profession qualities, someone so opposite of you.

He looks you up and down as you exaggeratedly rub your chin as if you’re thinking extra hard. He rolls his eyes and takes a moment to take you in. You’re quite attractive; pretty face, dark eyes and plump, pink lips, brown slacks with a white t-shirt tucked into them, and beige heels strapped around your feet. Your personality seems to be the opposite of the professional way you dress yourself.

“This isn’t a joke. If you’re interested, we need to leave now.” Bucky informs you, patience wearing thin as you continue to stall time not believing he’s serious.

You let out a sigh before warning, “If I don’t encounter any aliens or robots, you’ll be seeing a nasty Yelp review.” You stand and swing the door to your office open again.

“Okay, what do you got?” You ask your two doctors as you walk back behind your desk to retrieve the matching brown blazer hung around the back of your desk chair.

“Hereditary Brain Disorder, Paraneoplastic Syndrome,” Abraham begins listing. Bucky remains standing at the door.

“None of which go away with IV fluids; it’s heatstroke.” Jordan argues as you tug on your blazer.

“Or Cushing’s, or Calcium Deficiency.” You offer as Jordan rolls her eyes realizing she’s going to get stuck with a simple heatstroke case.

“Who’s your friend?” Abraham questions, clearly no longer interested in convincing you of the case, his childhood hero is standing in front of him.

“We use the term ‘lover’,” You tease and Bucky rolls his eyes, “Get a fresh history, a neurological exam, and an MRI of her head. If I estimate 15 minutes for the lap dance, 30 minutes to scrub the regret from my body and soul; see you guys in 45 minutes.” You call out as you exit the room, Bucky following behind you.

Bucky walks in the opposite of direction of the elevators and you speed walk in order to keep up with his long strides. As you two approach the staircase leading up to the roof, you open the door slowly and cautiously, looking for cameras or any other tech equipment and Bucky pushes the door open all the way.

“C’mon! We need to hurry, Doctor.” Bucky huffs as he passes you and climbs up the stairs.

“Yeah, we need to hurry. Look, I’d believe a cop or even FBI but, Avenger? C’mon, do you really think anyone is gonna believe that?” You ask as you approach the door leading to the roof of the building.

Bucky pushes open the door to reveal a massive, black jet hovering over the roof of the hospital. It’s sleek and shiny and there are two tall, beefy men in black tactical gear standing on either side of the entrance to the plane and you’re starting to think that this just might be real. Your hair is flying around and the loud whirring of the jet is already beginning to create a buzz in your ears.

“It’s easier when you have the props.” Bucky replies with a smirk over his shoulder, leading you to the aircraft.

A hand is outstretched to help you board and you look down to see a black and gold metal hand awaiting for your hand to use it as support.

Yep, this is real.

TAGS: @thefvcker-tucker @gagmebucky @angel-fire @hannie-writes-marvel

#d&s’milestonecelebration #writing challenge #whatever it takes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x doctor!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes series

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