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tinyluvs · 10 months

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Being spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time? I think it would be cute!!!! 🫶🏻

it WOULD be super cute! thank you so much! i got huge sibling vibes from the team while writing this so hope that’s okay too!

the tray holding yours and your boyfriends coffee wobbles slightly in your hand as the elevator doors ping open, giving you full view of the bau offices, your eyes widening when you realise just how big it was

caught up with staring you almost forget to actually step out of the elevator, the doors sliding shut just as you manage to pass through them, somehow keeping hold of the coffee's as you do

suddenly it dawns on you that you don't really know where to find spencer. big glass doors separate you from the offices and people whizz up and down the hallway behind you, none of them paying the slightest bit of attention to you

you use your shoulder to push the doors open just enough to squeeze through and when you turn you realise the office is mostly empty, a few people sat at desks but luckily, spencer is there too, stood by what you assume is his desk, looking down at a chess board

"hi," you greet him quietly as you walk up to him, your voice muffled by your, his, scarf that's snug around your neck, "spence," you say slightly louder when he doesn't acknowledge you

he turns, looking thoroughly confused, his features softening when he notices you just feet away from him, "hey honey, what are you doing here?" he asks, rushing to take the small tray of coffee out of your hands before you drop it

pulling at the scarf you start unraveling it from around your front, "well you forgot your lunch, so i was going to bring it but then i also forgot it," you explain, cheeks reddening, "so instead i got pastries and coffee" you finish, waving a paper bag in his direction with a smile

spencer chuckles at you, "thank you," he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in, his lips pressing against your forehead, "is it snowing outside?" he asks, pulling away, his eyes darting to the window and then back at you

"how'd you know?" you question, head titling slightly

gentle fingers push your baby hairs back, "you have snow in your hair sweetheart," he says softly, his fingers dropping to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the small space by his desk, "here, sit" he reaches over to grab an empty wheelie chair from the desk next to his

with a soft sigh you fall back into the seat, it rolls back slightly, the back hitting the edge of the desk, "where is everyone?" you ask, watching your boyfriend sit directly in front of you, your knees bumping his

"uh," he looks around while you pull pastries from the bag, "they must all be on lunch" he comes to a conclusion with a slight shrug, "it's never usually this quiet"

you slide the bag over to him and pull your knees up to your chest before balancing your croissant on your knee while you turn to grab your coffee, making sure you have the one with less sugar in it

slowly your chair starts to spin, spencer's eyes widening slightly as it does. he shuffles closer, extending his legs either side of you, holding you in place, "where did you get these?" he asks, eyeing up his apricot danish which already has a bite missing

"the market," you answer with a nod, "we have to go there this week, please," you smile softly, knowing full well he would never dream of saying no to you

spencer's eyes flicker up, behind you and then back to you, "of course, honey" he says as other voices start to fill the office space, "they're back"

your eyes widen at him, not daring to look over your shoulder at the people. somehow you sink further into your chair, the huge scarf falling around you like a blanket. meeting the bau was inevitable but not right now, not while you have flakes of pastry over your leggings and snow soaking your hair

"hey guys," spencer smiles slightly as people start to wander over. in your head you start naming them, emily and jj come over first, david and aaron on their tails and behind them, penelope with derek's arm thrown around her shoulder

"hey kid, you didn't tell us you were expecting company," david says, standing behind your boyfriend, hands on his shoulders while the older man smiles at you

"well actual-"

"aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" derek says, teasing, like a sibling would. spencer scowls at him, though there's no heat behind it, causing you to giggle into your coffee

you can tell spencer contemplates just saying no but eventually he sighs, "honey, this is the bau," he gestures at his colleagues and you stifle a laugh, "guys, this is my girlfrien-"

"girlfriend?!" penelope shrieks, cutting spencer off. she shakes derek off of her to move closer, "oh my, you're gorgeous! how long? why didn't i know?" she finishes, whacking spencer on the shoulder

aaron and david pat your boyfriend on the back, like fathers would before brushing past, sending you gentle smiles as they do, retreating back to their offices.

the girls, plus morgan, pull up their own chairs, forming a sort of semi circle in front of you. "so, spill," emily says, gesturing between you and spencer

"what do you want to know," spencer replies, ripping an iced bun in half. he offers you the bigger bit, smiling to himself when you ooh excitedly.

jj sighs, exasperated but still light hearted, "how you met, how long you've been together, everything spence, c'mon"

"we met at a farmers market, he accidentally ran into me, spilt hot," you shoot a look at your boyfriend who stares at his lap with a slight smile, "chocolate down me but then he bought me flowers to say sorry and i was a goner from there," you explain

penelope opens her mouth but spencer beats her to it, "sunflowers"

"that was," you trail off, thinking, "just over a year ago now" you know spencer too well, already looking at him, eyebrow raised, "go on"

"four hundred and two days and counting" he says with a grin, leaning over slightly to brush crumbs off of your scarf

derek holds his hands up, "hold on, you've had a girlfriend for over a year and never thought to mention it" he says, the others nodding in agreement

"aaron and david knew," you slide into the conversation, throwing spencer under the bus, he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“why would you say that?” spencer asks you desperately, you shrug and sit back, watching as jj, emily and morgan burst into chatter, offended that they weren't told while penelope silently scoots over to you

"is that the scarf i made him?" she asks and you nod, knowing it was her christmas gift to him last year, "ohmygod, i'm going to make you a matching one, don't argue, you won't win!" she says all smiley

"when were you going to tell us? at your wedding?"

"no! it jus-"

"boy, do not say it just didn't come up, do not make me smack you in front of your girlfriend"

jj stands, rolling her eyes at the boys arguing while emily jumps in every now and then, fuelling the fire, "great to meet you, we will arrange a girls night soon"

"oh yes, of course! lovely to meet you, finally" you laugh before she wanders away from the scene still unfolding, "are they always like this?" you ask penelope, offering her the bag of goodies

"oh you're my new favourite person," she hums, taking a donut from the bag, "and yes, they're always like this, welcome to the chaos, enjoy your stay"

leaning back in your seat to fully observe, you scoff, "oh i will"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid drabbles

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lovelytsunoda · 5 months

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sleigh ride // lance stroll

summary: christmas has never been his holiday. but she adores it, and he wants to make this christmas one that she won't forget.

pairing: lance stroll x fiancee!reader

warnings: marriage proposals, fluffy lance, it's super duper cheesy, lance quotes emily henry's "beach read", where can i get a lance

the snow fell down on niagara falls in scattered flurries, the waterfalls the town used as their namesake almost frozen solid in motion as they spilled into lake ontario. the sun was setting, with niagara-on-the-lake doused in an orange-pink glow as the couple ran out of the b'n'b, giggling hand in hand.

"lance, where are we going?" she giggled, mitten-clad hand clutched in her boyfriend's as he pulled her along the snowy sidewalk.

"just trust me, but you'll need to close your eyes." lance stroll insisted, turning to face her, pressing his warm lips to her rapidly cooling forehead. "we're almost there."

"if you say so." she chortled, closing her eyes and following lance as he guided her, gentle flakes falling against her knitted hat.

the breeze was cold, cutting through the many layers that they both wore as lance urged her forwards. her mind was swimming with all the possibilities lance could have come up with, but she couldn't settle on any.

christmas had never been his thing. he was raised jewish, and she had celebrated hannukah with his family before, so why would he celebrate christmas anyways? the answer was simple: because she enjoyed it. he could convince himself to embrace a little more of the christmas spirit than normal when she was around, when she insisted on putting that stunning tree in their living room, or buying elf ears for their dog.

"okay, you can open your eyes now."

she opened her eyes, instantly covering her mouth to stop the delighted scream from coming out and scaring the horses. sitting in front of her were two stunning black mares, towing a snow-white sleigh, decorated with white glitter and snowflakes, a plush throw blanket thrown over the bench in the back.

"lance, this is incredible!"

lance beamed, glowing under the streetlamps as he pulled open the metal gate door. "milady." he giggled, reaching for her gloved hand to help her into the sleigh.

she curled into him on the bench, lance fluffing the blanket out behind and over their bodies before the well-dressed man sat in the driver's seat of the sleigh flashed them a smile, and the horses began their slow trot down the cobblestones.

she slipped her gloves off, taking lance's cold hand in hers as she played with his fingers, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. her breath crystallized in the air, snowflakes falling into the sleigh and promptly melting on the winter mats on the ground.

lance himself was fidgety, the tiffany and co. box burning a hole in the pocket of his parka. he was so anxious about asking that he'd almost done it that morning, over coffee and croissants at breakfast.

but she deserved more than that. she deserved something meaningful, something special (not that there was anything wrong with a little bit of privacy and keeping it lowkey, he just wanted to have a great proposal story to pass down to their kids. after y/n told him that her father proposed to her mother by saying 'we need to talk', he vowed that his proposal would be special).

she turned her head, pressing a frosty kiss to his warm skin. "i love you, lance."

he smiled, burying his nose in the top of her knitted hat. " i love you more, pretty girl. i've got another surprise for you, if you're up for it."

she looked up at him, hair falling in front of her face, skin pink from the cold as she smiled back at him. "what kind of surprise?"

"you'll see. it's just around this corner, love."

the sleigh pulled up to a small gazebo, cords of string lights wrapped around the weathered wooden beams to light up the small space, now that the sun was behind the clouds, the last dregs of daylight hovering in the space between night and day.

lance got to his feet, opening the sleigh gate before the driver could even get down from his perch. with her long fleece scarf hanging down to her knees, she daintily descended from the sleigh, hand in hand with her boyfriend as he led her towards the gazebo.

the snow beneath their feet was dusted with deep purple rose petals, some small tea light candles on the steps. as they got closer to the gazebo, she could see the small lightbox letters, lit up in a warm, soft yellow as they got closer, spelling out two words.

marry me.

"oh, lance." she breathed, at a loss for words as she anxiously wringed her hands.

she could hear the wooden boards creaking behind her as lance sunk down to one knee, reaching into his pocket for the turquoise box. he rested the box on his knee, frozen hands shaking as he pulled it open.

"i really should have thought this through a little better. i'm cold as shit." he giggled nervously. "but i know christmas means a lot to you, and i wanted to make this as special as i could."

she gasped, hands coming up to cover her mouth as she saw the ring: a single princess-cut diamond resting on a silver band, two small pink gemstones holding the center gem in place.

"y/n, i'm head over heels for you, and i always have been. every morning i wake up next to you, and i think, this could all go away. the racing, the money, the fame, all of it. but as long as i had you by my side, i wouldn't care. as long as i had you, i'd be happy. because you make me so happy, y/n. you remind me of all the good in the world, all the reasons to keep going. in the words of emily henry, yes, i've read your romance books, 'when i watch you sleep, i feel overwhelmed that you exist'. man, she got that right. i feel overwhelmed with love, and with care. and some days, i wonder why you chose me when you could have had any man you wanted. y/n y/'l/n. pretty girl. love of my life." lance sniffled, wiping at the tear that was threatening to fall into his stubble. "will you marry me?"

"yes!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the clearing as she started to giggle. "yes, of course i'll marry you." her eyes started to sting, tears pricking the corners of her vision, so overcome with love for man on his knees in front of her.

she sunk to her knees as well, the frost on the gazebo cold against the knees on her jeans. she clasped lance's hands in her own, pulling him in for a gentle kiss before he slipped the ring onto her finger, foreheads resting against each other.

"thank you so much for saying yes. i can't think of a day in the foreseeable future that i don't want to spend with you by my side."

"oh, lance." she laughed through her tears of joy. "don't make me cry."

"i'm not trying to, my love." he laughed, tears pricking at his eyes. "god, i just love you so much."

"i love you more." she laughed, tucking her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before glancing down at the sterling silver on her finger.

lance kissed her hairline, holding her close and breathing in her scent.

if this was every day for the rest of his life, then he was wondering why he'd waited so long to ask.

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @lorarri @httpiastri @cartierre @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @oconso @thatsdemko @silversainz

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #the christmas collection 2023 #mini fic

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anna-scribbles · 3 months

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thirteen update 🌿👩🏼‍🌾🏚️🫢

chapter 4: January

chapter summary:

He pictured her face the last time he’d seen it, cheekbones peeking through smooth skin, smile taut over bone-white teeth. They would tell him, right? If something happened?

excerpt:

The thing about haunted houses is that “haunted” is a really vague descriptor, and it’s passive, which is just bad writing, honestly. There’s no indicator as to who’s doing the haunting, and how often, and why. There’s no real criteria for what “haunting” even means. A person can be haunted by a ghost, or their past, or the memory of eating bad sushi. A house can’t remember its past. It certainly can’t eat sushi. And Adrien’s not even confident that ghosts are real. (If you’d asked him that question about ten years ago, he’d have said no. But finding out that magic is real—and that you’re not—has a way of dampening your certainty of such things.)

Anyway, haunted houses are stupidly and imprecisely named. And if Adrien wanted to use an edgy metaphor to conceptualize the way his past won’t un-sink its twelve-year-old-molars from his throat, he’d just go back to thinking about forced heirship again.

(“—it’s non-negotiable,” the woman from the city had explained. “Property is passed down automatically to biological offspring upon death. You have been the primary owner of the estate since the previous owner, Emilie Agreste, died in—”)

Mostly, the house is just damp and cold and musty. Mostly, it’s just a monument to how excessively wasteful one absurdly rich and evil family can be. No delusions of haunting can be blamed for that. Adrien doesn’t even want to guess at how much money was poured into this place, only for it to get dilapidated by years of moisture and infamy.

(Ten-year-old paintings shouldn’t be sticky when you touch them. Layers of finely-detailed brushstrokes shouldn’t flake off and smear away at the brush of your fingernails, especially when there isn’t even anything underneath.)

It was always a terrible place for art, this house. His parents were collectors more than appreciators of any of it, buying up pretty things just to own them. Hang them here, where no one else would see. And it seems now that water damage has picked up where his parents left off, ensuring that no one else will ever enjoy them again.

(Of course there was nothing underneath. There’s never anything underneath, no matter how deep he digs. He should know that by now.)

read on ao3

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #thirteen #my art #adrien agreste #emilie agreste #DONE IT'S DONE #okay I HAVE to go do hw now #happy february it's january etc etc #the feb chapter WILL be done earlier I can feel it in my bones. I just know

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 5 months

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// just ... just take it . here , songs i associate with this blog except they're links because i don't have a spotify , //

ATRD

Introduction To The Snow by Miracle Musical "you'll live forever tonight."

Kitchen Fork by Jack Conte "where, oh, where do we go next?"

The Mind Electric by Miracle Musical "see how the brain plays around?"

Sleepwalk by Forrest Day "then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem."

Everybody Likes You by Lemon Demon "does anybody like me?"

every day by bo en "stick with me, you'll find your purpose is near!"

dumb dumb by mazie "there must be something in the corn flakes!"

HOUSEWIFE RADIO by GHOST "in the sewing machine i've lost myself."

The Soul Eclectic by Chonny Jash "tridential regicide - i won't hesitate to kill my heart and mind."

Bruno Is Orange by Hop Along "please be a good man, please say you won't tell."

—

the bane of my existence THE INFLUENCER

SOLUS by emily jeffri "i know you're alone!"

Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!) by Will Wood "the only ones in need of love are those who don't receive enough."

Eat You by Caravan of Thieves "i'm gonna breathe you in my lungs and make you mine."

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid "i'm not gonna hurt you... yet."

Pomegranate Seeds by Julian Moon "i get what i want, one way or the other,"

Bad (I'm Better) by AamityMae "i got the juice to throw your train off the track..."

Terry's Taxidermy by Teddy Hyde "i'll remedy the death of thee , your memory forever seen - i'll set you free!"

Brutus by The Buttress "i don't want what you have, i wanna be you!"

Spiral of Ants by Lemon Demon "the circle rules your life."

Lifetime Achievement Award by Lemon Demon "you earned this new purpose."

#[ ooc ]#[ THE INFLUENCER ]

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drilpencils · 11 months

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(cartoon by emily flake, caption by dril)

#the dril yorker #emily flake #101 dalmations

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thenib · 1 year

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Emily Flake.

#emily flake #mother's day

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storiesofsvu · 3 months

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Solace in Solitude Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol, canon typical conversation, smut. This ch feels a little it jumpy, partially because it is, partially because of how it needed to be. Each of the breaks represent a time jump, just little pieces of our girls lives while they figure out how to go about it. Two to three chapters left until this series is finally done with!

“Fuck…” Emily muttered with a small huff, flipping the cover to her iPad closed before she gently tossed it onto the coffee table.

“You good?” You asked, glancing between the television and her.

“Yeah, just lost another round of scrabble.”

“Cheeto breath’s the blonde, right?” You asked, redirecting your attention towards her as you picked up your glass of wine.

“JJ.. yeah..” Emily’s eyes drifted out the window for a moment, reminiscing about her memories with Jayje over the years.

“I take it you two were good friends?”

“Yeah.” She cast you a small smile.

“You know… you are allowed to talk about them.”

“I know.” Emily sighed softly, picking up her own drink, “it just almost feels surreal now. Like that part of my life was some kind of fever dream, the years between Doyle were reality but the way things worked out it almost seems like the fake memories were it, not the time with him.”

“Did you go straight from that undercover gig to your team?” You asked your brow furrowing.

“Basically.” She laughed, the grin staying on her face, “a few months to recuperate, make sure all the loose ends were tied.”

“How does that work on a resume? I mean, you can’t exactly put an entire fake identity on there.”

Emily laughed again, taking a bigger swig of her drink while she mulled over the entire topic, “the bureau and international teams have their way of covering things up. It wasn’t really me who did all that, it was Lauren, so Emily Prentiss came off a desk job, well recommended to the BAU.”

“And they believed that?” You raised a brow in her direction. It didn’t take a federal agent to notice the way Emily behaved, the little things she picked up on that made her seem like someone with extensive experience.

“Everyone had their walls up, they weren’t ready for a replacement on the team yet, it wasn’t exactly welcoming. Not to mention Hotch seemed to have it in for me, thinking my mother had swindled the job for me.”

“Hmm.” You replied over the rim of your wine glass, “it didn’t stay like that though?”

“No.” She smiled softly, “they became family. I spent more time with them than anyone else in my life, we all did, even outside of work. If I wanted to have a girls night I knew JJ and Penelope would always say yes, Derek was never going to decline a visit to the gym or shooting range, Rossi was always dying to teach someone his latest recipe…..” She trailed off, her eyes slowly misting with tears as she thought about how likely it was that all of that continued despite her absence, how they were all coping with her death, with their grief while she tried to figure out her own on the opposite side of the world with only one person by her side. “We were all a better family to each other than our own ever could have been.”

“They sound amazing.” Your hand reached out, squeezing at her elbow and she cast you a grin.

“They are.”

“So aside from being a total bad ass federal agent chasing down serial killers, what is it exactly that your unit does?”

“Behavioural Analysis, it’s more psychology based, figuring out trends, triggers, history, patterns, geographical locations,” she waved her hand with each statement, “putting it all together to figure out who our unsub is.”

“That’s honestly really neat. I kinda wish hospitals had people on staff to help with that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah.” She laughed, “me too.”

***

Thick flakes of snow were drifting down through the air, coating the city in a fluffy white blanket, which meant going nowhere. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff as she looked out the balcony window. The temperature had been decreasing daily and she was getting pent up, cabin fever increasing and had been hoping to get out of the house this weekend.

“You okay?” You asked from your spot in the kitchen, packing up leftovers to toss in the fridge before pouring out a couple fresh glasses of wine.

“I’m bored.” She practically whined, turning around to face you, “if I have to watch another episode of The Bachelor I will blow my brains out.”

“Okay…” you laughed, picking up the wine to move back into the living room, handing her her glass. “You have anything else in mind? New show, game?”

She chewed on her lip, eyes darting around the room while she tried to find something to entertain her and you knew you were in trouble when they shot back up to you with that dangerous glimmer in them. “How about poker?”

“We’ve played every night this week, you think that’s gonna cure this?” You asked, grabbing the deck of cards from behind you before you settled on the couch.

“How about we up the stakes?”

“What? Play for real money?” You asked with a laugh, nearly gulping at the look she gave you in return.

“Or… we could make it strip poker?” She offered with a wild grin and you couldn’t help but roll you eyes.

“Fine.” You started to deal the cards out, “but you better take it easy on me, we all know you’re the poker champ.”

Emily in fact, did not take it easy on you.

It didn’t help that the cold bothered her more, her body aching at the temperatures meant she was bundled up, thick socks, leggings, tank top, thin pullover, hoodie. You preferred cool temperatures, meaning you were already down to just a pair of lace panties while she still had pants and a bra on.

“This is not fair.” You grumbled, letting out a little shiver as you crossed your arms over your chest and she laughed, draining the last of her drink. “You were wearing so many more clothes than me.”

“Sounds like someone’s a poor loser.” She chuckled, the cards in her hand finding home on the coffee table as she shifted toward you on the couch, “but I’m pretty sure I can make it up to you…”

You let out a small laugh as she caged you into the couch, your back hitting the arm in the same moment her lips hit your neck and you were suddenly out of complaints. Her hands toyed with your chest, groping and pinching at you, her lips smirking up into a grin as your hips rutted up against hers. It only took a few moments before her hand was sneaking into your panties, gently rubbing at your clit.

“Fuck…” You muttered, your head dropping back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth wrapped around your nipple.

Your moans became louder when her fingers slipped into your pussy, twisting and curling just where you needed them. Emily’s breath hot on your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin as you fluttered around her, whimpers leaving your lips as she toyed with you, getting louder and louder until you hit your peak and losing a poker game was the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Emily let the apartment door swing shut behind her, flicking the lock before dropping the bag of groceries on the counter. After hanging up her coat and kicking off her boots her eyes finally swept through the living room, her head tilting when her gaze landed on you. You were perched in your usual corner of the couch, fuzzy blanket over your lap, mug of coffee in your hand but instead of staring at the television, your gaze as focussed on the corner of the room. She watched you for a couple of minutes, wondering if you were just zoned out, off on some tangent of medical language in your brain but you didn’t even blink to notice that she’d even come home.

“Okay you’re freaking me out. This is like when your cat is staring at the wall and the only explanation is a ghost.”

“Should we get a tree?” Your head titled to the side but your gaze remained in the corner.

“Uh… what?” She asked, laughing awkwardly and you finally looked over to her.

“For Christmas.” You explained, eyes sweeping through the living room, “every where’s all decorated, lights, garland, trees, I could do without the Christmas music at the hospital constantly but it’s a little drab in here, don’t ya think?”

“And you want a tree?”

“Not a real one,” your nose scrunched, “too much work, and it doesn’t have to be a big one, a mini one, just some lights to make it a little festive in here.”

Emily crossed through the living room, dropping down onto the other side of the couch as she looked through the apartment, “you’re right. We should decorate, even just a little, make it feel more homey in here.”

“Yeah?” You looked up at her and she couldn’t help but smile at the excitement in your eyes.

“Yeah.” She squeezed at your leg through the blanket, “we watch enough tv as is, we could be marathoning Christmas movies. I picked up hot chocolate,” she nodded toward the grocery bag.

“Now that, sounds like a festive night.”

“After decorating though.” She grinned and you raised a brow, “there’s so many little celebrations going on out there.” She gestured toward the window, “I walked past two separate Christmas markets today, we should go check them out, pick up some stuff for the apartment, maybe some treats.”

“You wanna go now?”

“Well I was gonna make baked ziti for dinner, but that could wait cause I have a feeling you really love Christmas.”

“Yeah…” you nearly winced with a small smile on your face and Emily laughed.

“Well c’mon.”

Five hours later the two of you were curled up under the same blanket on the couch while The Holiday played on the television. Empty pasta plates sat on the coffee table and mugs of steaming hot chocolate spiked with Baileys were cupped in your hands. Multi coloured lights from the tree and the tops of the wall cast a warm glow throughout the apartment, the smell of gingerbread wafting from a candle burning on the kitchen island.

“You were right.” Emily mumbled “this is much better. I guess I forgot how just how nice actually embracing the holidays can feel.”

“Oh really?” You glanced up at her with a small grin and she raised a brow in your direction.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, I saw an ad for a really cool looking ice sculpture festival next weekend.”

She laughed, nudging your shoulder with hers as she shook her head at you, “alright, fine. It’s not like I have much else to do anyways.”

“Exactly.” You settled back into the couch with a satisfied sigh, “though we need to get some presents for under the tree.”

***

“If you don’t hurry up, you’re gonna miss the countdown!” Emily shouted over her shoulder, puling her sweater tighter over her shoulders, her eyes sweeping through the stars sparkling in the night sky. A dreamy look on her face, no doubt partially thanks to the bubbly the two of you had been drinking since dinner.

“I know, I know!” You scoffed back, hurrying back onto the balcony and handing her a flute, “but you absolutely cannot start a new year without champagne, and this is legit champagne.”

“Classy.” She replied with a laugh when she took the glass from you.

The streets below you were filled with laughter, cheers and the general sound of celebration as midnight ticked closer and closer. You shivered and Emily tugged you closer to her, her arm linking into yours as smiles broke out on both of your cheeks while you joined in on the countdown echoing from the street below. The clock hit twelve and choruses of ‘Happy New Year’ and cheers bounced through the air as the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a swig of your drinks fireworks exploding in the sky above you.

“What?” You asked when Emily swiped your glass, putting it along with hers down on the small table.

“C’mere.” She tugged you to her, “you can’t not have a new year’s kiss.”

Her arm wound around your waist, lips meeting yours tenderly, moving with grace against each other as your arms wrapped around her shoulders. Her tongue slipped into your mouth and you let out a happy sigh into the kiss.

“You know, you’re really good at this.” She murmured, lips curving into a grin and you chuckled.

“I’m good at a lot of other things too.” The smirk on your lips pulled a laugh from Emily.

“I like this.” She replied, stepping backwards and you let out a squeal when she pulled you down onto the couch behind her, your legs settling around her hips as she adjusted you on her lap, her lips meeting yours once again.

The kiss was full of little laughs, happy breaths, satisfied sighs as you held each other tighter to combat the chilliness of the now January night air. You could only hope that if this was how you were starting the year off that it would end up being a better one overall than the last.

***

Emily was in the kitchen scrounging up what she could for dinner out of leftovers when you finally emerged from your bedroom. You glanced up to her with a happy smile,

“I take it the meeting went well?” She asked.

“Yeah. The hospital wants to fly me out for a couple of consults on Tuesday.”

“That’s amazing!”

“You’re good then..” your brow scrunched, “like… if I take off for a few days? It feels weird to leave you… unsupervised, for lack of a better word.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “I’ll be fine, I’m sure I can handle a few days on my own. You go save some lives.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, “you’ve cleared me, the shrink has my med load decreased, I was cleared at the beginning of the month by PT to up my workouts. Hate to break it to ya, but you’ve been downgraded from babysitter to roommate at this point.”

“Okay, okay.” You laughed, sliding onto a stool at the island.

“I’m guessing this is the same research you’ve been working on?”

“Yeah, finally found the right place with the right fit and resources.”

“So you’re moving then?”

“God no, I don’t even know if there’s an actual job available. They might just want my research, might offer me a grant to keep working here, fly me in when needed. I could probably do ninety percent of it over Skype, it’s all about collaboration at this stage.”

“Well whatever happens I hope it’s good.”

“Me too.”

While Emily did actually enjoy her solo time in the apartment, she found it feeling just a little strange. Knowing that you weren’t coming home those nights, that noise out in the hallway were just the neighbours making their way to their own apartments. That she wasn’t waiting for you before starting dinner, she could eat whenever she wanted and that there was no one to start the coffee for her in the morning. Your absence was felt, even if you were still keeping in touch over text the three days you were gone.

It was barely noon and there was already a sense of urgency shooting through the apartment as you practically jumped out of your bedroom into the living room.

“Em!?”

It wasn’t even a second later that she came barrelling out of her room, duffle over her shoulder, still open so she could grab her phone charger and tablet from the kitchen island to shove into it.

“I, uh.. I think I need to go.”

“What?” You asked and she stalled suddenly,

“The guardian I had for Declan, he just called me. Declan tried to call him, there’s something going on, I need to get back stateside.” She took a deep breath, feeling the jitters in her chest starting as her pulse started to race, “oh god…” She suddenly dropped to a squat, her elbows on her knees so she could bury her face in her hands, “I really didn’t think this was gonna happen so quick.”

“Em…” you stepped toward her, a hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing softly and she was able to take another deep breath, calming her racing heart enough to bring herself up to standing and you could see the misting in her eyes.

“I… I know you’re not my therapist or anything, but you have honestly been the closest person since we got here, and I… I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.”

“If Declan needs you…”

“What if this is some kind of trap? What if Ian got to Tom, and this is just a fucking set up?” She ran a hand over her face, turning back to you, “sorry, I’m freaking out. You were gonna say something when I first came out.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “you don’t have to worry about Ian. Your team has him.”

“What?” Her eyes widened and you gestured to your phone in your hand.

“Hotch called; they want you back to help break him.” Reaching out you squeezed at her wrist, “you’re ready. They need you, the real you... you get to be yourself again.”

Emily couldn't help the warmth flowing through her at the thought of that, at getting to return to her real life after all this time. “And you what, keep playing pretend here?”

“No.” You laughed, “actually right before Hotch called, St Thomas’ called…there was a job and they just offered it to me. I move to London at the end of the month.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing.” A smile burst out on her face and she pulled you into a tight hug until you were nudging her away.

“You need to go.” You practically laughed, “there’s a jet waiting for you, a car will pick you up on the other end.”

“Fuck, right.” She quickly zipped up her bag, double checking that she had everything she needed.

“Text me if you’re missing anything crucial and I’ll ship it out.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” She paused, looking up at you with genuine gratitude written across her face, “and I mean that, both literally and figuratively. Thank you, for everything.” Stepping toward you she wrapped an arm around your shoulders, placing a kiss on your cheek before she stepped away.

“Yeah well, you can pay it back to me by not ruining all my hard work in your first day back in the field, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Stay safe.” You warned her and she cast a smile back to you while she opened the door.

“I will. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

_________________

@momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietcoke @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak xnovak

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #solace in solitude #emily prentiss series

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steppin-on-the-last-train · 5 months

Text

cowboy like me

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: As a part-time criminal and a full-time escape artist your first priority was always to keep people at arm's length. When you meet someone who also knows what it's like to live from day to day, you're not so sure you want to let her slip away.

Foreword: Title taken from the Taylor Swift song cause it’s evermore season y’all

The first time you met the Black Widow was aboard a train heading south toward London.

You sat, facing the window and watching the people mill about the terminal outside. Your cheeks were still red and wind bitten from your commute to the station. The car was almost full now, most everyone dressed in Manchester United jerseys and hats and the like. You blended in just fine among them. Another fan headed home after the match with a scarf and an old pair of trainers.

You rehashed the details of your current mark in your head like a mantra. Jameson Harris. 42 Malcolm Rd. Wife was Anna Harris. Two children, Marcus and Emily.

“All aboard. The 5:00 train from Manchester to London is off in three minutes,” the conductor announced from a speaker overhead. You could barely hear it over the excitement of the crowd. A little boy ran screaming down the aisle, his mother giving a futile chase.

In the set of seats facing you two men about your age sat down. They were clearly drunk, laughing like hyenas and shoving each other in a manner that bordered on real anger. At least one of them smelled like heavy smoke.

“Hey, mate,” the tall, lanky one with a bad neck tattoo waved at you. “How about that game, eh?”

You grinned widely as if you had one too many drinks coursing through your veins. “Fucking wild.” You stumbled over the words as if your tongue didn’t sit correctly in your mouth. “Best match of the season, if you ask me.”

The other guy, fitter and dark-haired took out a lighter and a cigarette. He lit it and pulled a huge drag. The exhaled smoke blew right into the face of a passing attendant.

She coughed stiffly into her hand. “Sir, there is no smoking allowed onboard. I am going to have to ask you to step out or please put it out.”

“Are you talking to me, sweetheart?” You averted your gaze, scrolling mindlessly through the contacts in your phone. If the woman was looking for a hero, you were a false beacon of hope.

“Yes. Now, please. There is truly no smoking allowed in the car.” The acrid stench of nicotine once more assaulted everyone misfortunate enough to be in the general vicinity.

The man took a deep breath and stood. Elaborately he stubbed the cigarette out on the back of his seat, little bits of ash flaking into the air. The attendant moved on and he dropped back into the chair. “Fucking cunt,” he swore loud enough to cut through the din.

You closed your eyes to shut out the cloudy winter light intent on piercing your retinas and the jerky movements of the other passengers, high off the energy from the match. You swore you would take a break after this job. You had made that exact same promise to yourself last week in Bogota, and the time before in Cairo. No, you wouldn’t stop. Just as relentless as the blood rushing through your veins, stopping would be tantamount to death.

“Excuse me.” A voice caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. Innocence dripped from the words like honey, and you could tell the woman’s voice was pitched up from her normal tone. “Is anyone sitting here?” A slender hand gestured at the seat next to yours.

You pushed yourself up from the slouch you had been lounging in, feeling self-conscious. “No. Go right ahead,” you answered, cockney accent shining right through. She was pretty, you noted; about your age as well. A hitch tugged at the back of your brain. An evolutionary alarm from living your entire life on the move. This woman was not to be trusted. Underneath the wide eyes and the girlish smile was a viper coiled to strike.

“Thank you,” she said, looking quite small against the backdrop of the raucous train car.

A wolf whistle pierced the air, looking for trouble. The bloke who had been smoking flashed a predator’s grin at the blonde beside you. “Where are you traveling to all alone now, girlie?”

You watched the exchange from the corner of your eye. Why did conflict seem to follow wherever you stepped foot? The woman merely glanced up from her book, unwilling to feed the fire.

“Oi. Why don’t you go ahead and look at me when I’m talking to you? I know you can hear me.” The train had begun to depart, ushering in a wave of quiet to the car as passengers settled down. The demand was impossible to ignore. Even as parents hushed children and drunkards passed out in increasing numbers, his voice only gained intensity.

“This train is headed for London, is it not?” She asked, face as innocent as a blank sheet of paper.

“Hey Jack. She’s a witty one,” he said, slapping his friend on the chest. The woman flicked her gaze at you. Your attention wandered to her like a moth to a flame. You stomped down on any inclination to help her. You weren’t going to lose this game of chicken.

“Sweetheart.” The man so called Jack joined in the instigating. “How about you come home with us, eh? I’ve got a real nice flat. I bet you’d like the bedroom.”

“No, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with me to the bathroom right now?” The dark-haired one surged forward, grimy hand outstretched toward the woman. Caution gone with the wind, your arm darted out on its own accord. You intercepted his wrist, tugging harshly enough for him to stumble closer to you.

The blonde’s eyes widened and she shrank in on herself in her seat. You saw right through the act. An elderly man with a newsboy cap across the aisle watched the altercation like a deer caught in headlights. You prayed he wouldn’t call for help.

The entire damn point was to not draw attention to yourself. Today though, electricity charged the air with biting energy. The presence of the mystery-shrouded person beside you drove you past the gates of reason.

You squeezed the man’s pinky until you heard the crunch of bone pushed too far. He screeched like a cat. “Go and find yourself another seat. I don’t care if the car is full. You’ll throw yourself out the rear if you have to. Don’t let me see your fucking face again,” you whispered in his ear. The words leapt flaming from your tongue.

Eyes wild with adrenaline and the courage of alcohol, he swung at you with his free fist. You caught the clumsy punch, seized the man by the wrist, and snapped it clean. He screamed, turning the heads of the other passengers. Your gaze swept like a searchlight through the crowd, promising more hurt to anyone who might even think about interfering.

He crashed back into his friend’s lap before staggering to his feet. His sniffles and shuffling footsteps echoed through the silent traincar. “Go on,” you directed his buddy, who wasted no time before similarly scrambling from his seat. A final burst of dauntlessness flared up your throat. “What the fuck are you all staring at me for?” You broadcasted to the intrigued onlookers.

Half of these people weren’t sober enough to remember this in the morning. For those who did, you would be a completely different person the second you stepped foot off this godforsaken vehicle.

“Thank you,” the woman said, sickly sweet.

“Don’t mention it.” You admitted beating up assholes wasn’t an entirely cumbersome task.

“I feel obliged now to ask what your name is,” she continued.

You raised your eyebrows, turning in her direction. “What about stranger danger? How do you know I didn’t just stop them so I could be alone with you?”

“How do you know I needed your help?” She batted the question back at you.

“Touche.” You knew she didn’t. But she had indeed wanted to keep her cards close to her chest at the expense of you revealing yours. You offered a hand. “I’m Sam.”

“Nadia,” she replied, conceding the handshake. Her palms and fingers were lined with ridges of calluses.

“That’s a pretty name.” But not one that belonged to her, you thought.

She was so close now. The setting sunlight streamed through the window and coaxed the vibrance from the green of her irises. You stopped yourself from lingering there too long. You imagined all the people who had lost to her siren’s call before.

You cleared your throat and broke off the staring match. “Can I ask what you’re doing in England? Excuse me assuming that you’re not from around here.” If she wanted to play this game, you didn’t see the harm in joining in.

“I’m visiting a friend.” Her American accent drew attention. Odd for a thief or a spy or whoever she was to forgo language assimilation. “What about you, Sam? Did you grow up here?”

“I did. Never been out of the country meself.” Lies to you, but truths for Sam the football fan.

“Got anyone special at home?” She smirked, looking up at you from a downturned face.

You scoffed. She was messing with you. “No. Not for me. I like to keep available. You never know when an opportunity might come around. I’m not usually one to let a good thing pass me by.”

“And what makes a special opportunity? How do you know one when you see it?” How fitting that smoke still lingered in the air.

“I guess,” you started slowly. “Some people just have this spark about them.”

She wet her lips. “Do you think I have it?” If some people sparked with electricity, she certainly blazed with the sun’s heat.

The corner of your mouth lifted in a smile. You rolled your eyes with playful mirth. That was all the answer she needed.

Good thing as soon as the train pulled into the station in London you would get your ass as far away from her as possible. And with any luck, as the moon eclipses the sun your paths would cease to cross for a very long time.

—

Prime Minister Jameson Harris had an expensive taste in liquor. You were alone in his house, save for a half dozen security agents scattered about various entryways. Tonight you doubled as the man himself while he and his family had been whisked away to another secure location. You owed a friend in MI6 a favor, so you played the sitting duck amidst rumors of an assassination plot. Just another average night.

You snagged a crystal bottle of mystery alcohol from the shelf. Twisting the cork off with a pop you smelled it experimentally before taking a swig straight from the jug. Mister Harris had a fine taste in whiskey indeed. You rounded a giant mahogany table and sat, polished leather squeaking in protest.

The study lights weren’t overwhelming thanks to the dimmers you had spent way too long fiddling with. In addition you had lit a couple of candles. The room had smelled too much like mothballs and stale paper for your taste.

You raised the whiskey bottle in a toast to an imaginary gathering. “Long live the United Kingdom. To the prosperity of humankind. May all mutant scum drop dead,” you pronounced with the fanfare of a juvenile king. No one had stuck around to tell you your birthday, but you still had a good year or two before you were of drinking age. That much at least, you knew.

You didn’t follow politics, not keen on allying yourself with a particular nation, but the anti-mutant sentiment reached you anyhow. Hate and fear for you and your kind served as a rallying point for human leaders. They ceased pointing their guns at each other and instead set their targets on you.

Bottle in hand, you stood abruptly and turned toward the giant bookshelf behind you. Classic novels, history collections, and political theory publications lined the entire wall. You traced your fingers down their spines. You had to stay the night here, but thought it may be wiser to resist the call of sleep lest you don’t wake in the morning.

You pulled a relatively thin volume down. Between the stealing and fleeing and occasional strong-arming you didn’t have a lot of time to read. Tonight, you could start playing catch up with The Scarlet Letter.

You meandered back toward the desk. Glancing up, a cool breeze rushed at you from an open window. Your stomach dropped, heavy with an iron pit. The curtains flapped in the wind, taunting you for letting your guard down.

You set the whiskey and the book down on the desk and instead wrapped your hand around the slick steel of a pistol hidden beneath. “Show yourself,” you called in the voice of Jameson Harris. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you for breaking and entering.”

The study was by no means cramped for room, but even still there were few places to hide. You cleared the room in less than a second before realizing the door was ajar too.

You stalked out into the hall, only to find a guard passed out on the floor. You dug your fingers into your temple. Someone was clearly amusing themselves with the game they were playing. Even so, a chill ran down your spine. You weren’t used to being the rat in the maze in these situations.

Outside the study, the rest of the house was blanketed in darkness. For you, the absence of light made no difference. You could see just fine with the barest hint of sunshine. From above the bannister, you peered down the sight of the gun at the foyer. The ground floor lay still, as if holding its breath. The security guard posted at the front door sat slumped against the wall. You couldn’t tell if the dark spot pooling beneath his body was born of shadow or something much more sinister.

A cold hand on your shoulder jolted you from your search. Before you could turn around, meticulously sharpened steel carved a grinning line across your throat. You clamped a hand around the wound, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped canary. From the corner of your warping vision you saw a figure, wrapped in a shawl of shadows. The light from their eyes waited eagerly for the one in yours to wink out.

You stumbled, choking on your own blood. Pink froth bubbled from your mouth, burning with the chase of death. Your attention slipped and you shifted from the body of Jameson Harris and back into yourself. Well, almost. What you imagined you might look like without the lizard eyes and cobalt blue skin of a freak.

Beneath your palm your skin grew unnaturally warm. The waterfall of blood ceased its torrential flow. Slowly your skin sewed itself back together. You sighed in relief. You knew you could heal, but had never tested your powers to this extreme.

Behind you a voice muttered in Russian, “What the fuck?”

You stood straight up, flicking blood absentmindedly from your hand. Surprise gripped your heart. Standing in the corner, as still as a statue was the girl from the train that had brought you here. Nadia no longer looked the picturesque part of a wonderstruck American teenager visiting London. Blonde hair, that you now decided had definitely been dyed, lay neatly down her back in an intricate braid. She wore a black form-fitting tactical suit. Not military issued, you thought.

You blinked and found yourself staring down the muzzle of a pistol. You raised your hands in surrender, assuming the form you had been posing as on the train. A familiar rush raced from the top of your head to the ends of your limbs as your skin reformed itself. “Remember me?” You asked, spitting out a glob of blood and exposing red-stained teeth.

She cocked her head ever so slightly and just a moment of opportunity presented itself. You lunged for the gun while she grappled with the fact you’d been three completely different people in less than a minute. You let yourself shift back to your common appearance and vaulted across the floor. Muscles wound tight, you straightened your torso and kicked at the weapon.

Snapping back to reality she snatched the gun away just in time. You stood before she could re-aim and cut at her wrist. The gun clattered to the floor and you kicked it further down the hall.

You craned your head to avoid a viscous elbow to the nose. Sweat began to build along your hairline and drip down the back of your neck. You didn’t fight often, preferring to run into the foliage rather than confront the enemy and run the risk of being caught. You missed the rush.

She fought like a dancer. Momentum built from a lunge forward charged a stinging jab at your ribs. You pushed her two steps back and she went for a low sweep at your legs. You moved so fast you could hear the rush of cloth through the air, the sound of a fist soaring at your gut. A knife appeared in her hand, opening a surgical gash along the length of your tricep.

Hot blood ran down your arm. You weren’t sure what the limit of your healing factor was, but as the cut refused to close, you realized you might have spent it for tonight.

Your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t lose, no doubt that if she caught you she wouldn’t hesitate to snap your neck and unload an entire round into your head, just in case. But you had to think five steps ahead even as a boot came flying hairwidths from your face and lightning fast slashes struck at any spot you left unprotected.

She flipped herself and suddenly you were flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. You pulled air back into your spent lungs, gasping as your fingers dug into the floorboards. From the corner of your vision you saw her bolt for the discarded gun. Panic flared through you and you sprung yourself up, tackling her off course.

The both of you crashed through the bannister and went soaring onto the ground floor. She managed to maneuver herself midair so that she would land on top of you. The impact shot up the knobs of your spine, your head whipping painfully against the cool floor. Her shoulder dug into your collarbone, breaths coming in steady little exhales. You lost your focus for a split second, the pain radiating from the back of your skull overwhelming everything else.

Involuntarily you transformed into your natural appearance, attention split in so many ways you couldn’t hold onto maintaining your looks. You grit your teeth and shoved the woman off of you with all the strength you could muster, which admittedly beat the strongest of humans even on your worst days. She flew back and smashed into a side table, residing lamp tumbling down and shattering on the floor.

You hurdled over the staircase railing at the halfway point and cleared the rest of the steps in one bound. You normalized your complexion, hoping the dark had shielded you from her seeing the momentary exposure.

You scooped a gun up from the ground and whipped around, catching her at the top of the staircase. Strangling the grip, you tensed the muscles in your forearms and leveled it at her chest.

“Where’s Harris?” She asked, voice as harsh as the blade caught in her fist, still drip, drip, dripping with your blood.

“A safe place. Somewhere far away from pretty women with sharp objects.” Your pointer finger ghosted over the trigger. A voice in the back of your mind urged you to pull it. Return the favor.

She arched one eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re good.” You’d never tell her, but even with your enhanced strength and agility she’d had you on the ropes the entire fight. If you had so much as breathed differently you were sure the roles would be reversed right now.

“But not good enough for you,” she finished. Even as she bowed completely at your mercy her expression gave nothing away. A long time ago, you thought, she sculpted her face from marble, and the mask had been cemented in place since.

You lowered the gun. You weren’t a killer anyhow.

Blood crusted under your fingernails and in the lines of your palms, your shirt was starting to stick to your skin. You slid it over your head and tossed it on the floor, well aware of the woman’s lingering gaze.

You turned your back on her and strode into the bedroom, stealing a new shirt before locking yourself in the bathroom.

With a sigh you stopped holding a normal appearance and shifted back into your innate form. Staying in shape had become easier as you’d grown and fully navigated your powers but the process still ate up much of your concentration. Exhaustion slogged endlessly at your mind.

You eyed your arm which had thankfully stopped actively bleeding, but the flesh still gaped open in a deep red valley. You pulled all the cabinets open, coming up with a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Catching your lip between your teeth you washed the stinging wound, a hiss escaping as you flushed it out. You wrapped the bandage tight around your arm, ripping the extra with your teeth.

Methodically you cleaned yourself up. Filling your mouth with cold water from the tap, the sour coppery taste flushed away from your tongue. Then you scrubbed at your face, neck, and chest, trying hard to ignore the blue ridged flesh of an aberration. As the adrenaline started to drain from your system, the realization that death had been seconds away from stealing your life weighed on your mind like a wet blanket.

You scrubbed harshly at your hands until the water ran clear and then some. Staring at your reflection you slowly recomposed yourself. Freakishly red hair gave way to a more muted color, the yellow in your eyes faded to white, and bit by bit, the blue scales that cursed you with this power overturned into ordinary skin.

You curled your lips into a careless grin lined with a protective amount of cockiness. The great Mystique smiled back at you.

There you are, you thought.

The first time you had ever lied you were small and alone and desperately hungry for food. You had stolen a loaf of bread from a baker’s cart and bolted around a corner before shifting into someone else. When the seller asked you if you had seen a child run off, you looked him in the eye and told him no.

You weren’t sure how that one little lie had consumed you until there was no you left. Every morning you woke up and put on a charming show at the cost of further warping the person you ought to be. You’d die in your castle of lies, alone and bitter.

You walked back out into the hall, finding your attacker right where you left her. She stared down at the pool of blood staining the wood floor as if maybe she had imagined the entire ordeal.

“Unfortunately for you, I am still here,” you said. Unease churned in your stomach. Perhaps she was simply lying in wait, like a predator crouching in the tall yellow grass. “Made quite the mess though, don’t you think? The Prime Minister might have to look at new flooring.” You cringed as you stepped over the dark, coppery smelling spot. The warm light from the study spilled out into the hall. You walked into it, boldly turning your back on the woman. “Come on. I know you have questions.”

You leaned against the desk, next to a little bobble head of a dog. She walked in a few moments later, looking infinitely more at ease than she had in the hall. The knife had disappeared from her grasp. You saw right through the veil, having constructed a similar one in the privacy of the bathroom.

“So you’re not Jameson Harris, and you’re not Sam from London’s east end.” You shook your head, flicking at the toy. “Then who are you?” She stopped a respectable distance away, standing with her shoulders back and chin high.

You told her your name. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d done that truthfully. Yet this stranger managed to coax it out of you with one question. Faith was a funny thing. “And you?” You asked, tracing the curve of her jaw with your eyes.

“Romanova. Natalia.” She told you so almost robotically, as if the name was reserved for other people to use against her. As if she did not have the right to define herself.

“Nice to meet you, Natalia.” You took another sip of the whiskey before offering her the bottle. She eyed it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned, I promise. It’ll get you damn drunk though.”

She took the bottle, fingers brushing yours momentarily. “I prefer vodka,” she said, drinking as if she’d been denied water for the past week. She passed it back, staring at you as if searching for something. “How?” She asked, your expression denying her any plausible answer.

“How what?” You asked, failing to suppress a growing smirk.

“The disguises.” The firm line of her lips told you she wasn’t entertained by your antics. “You’re wearing some kind of suit, are you not?” You could imagine the gears turning in her head, trying to explain the impossible.

You slid yourself back until you sat fully on the desktop. “Nope. Fanciest piece of technology I own is a little flip phone,” you said, tracing the smooth lip of the desk with your fingertips. “And I don’t wear tacky suits.”

“I’m offended,” she said lowly, not sounding the slightest bit bothered.

“Don’t be. The whole dark assassin thing suits you,” you said, waving your hand. “Not me though. I mean, could you imagine me in a skin tight suit?”

“I wouldn’t sell yourself short. I think you could pull it off.” She raked her gaze over you and heat rose to your cheeks.

You transformed into an exact copy of her, inspecting your hands in wonder as if she wasn’t standing an arm’s length away. “You’re right,” you said in her voice. “I do look good.” You threw a toothy grin her way before shifting back with a woosh.

Realization dawned on her, green eyes brightening. “You’re one of them,” she said.

“Yep.” You swirled the alcohol around, watching how the light played off the bottle. “One of them.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I’ve never—I’ve never met a mutant before.” She seemed awestruck at the revelation. You were so used to being met with fear and disgust.

“I’m sure you have. Especially with all of the traveling you do,” you said. You remembered the window, still propped open from earlier. “Those of us that can try to blend in with everyone else. Take any street in a big city, for example. If you walked around for a little I guarantee you’d pass at least one of us.” You gazed up at the night sky, dotted with a billion brilliant stars. The estate sat well removed from the city and its hungry lights. “Most of us learned pretty quickly how to adapt, how to stay safe and hidden in the crowd,” you explained.

“And those of you who can’t?” You looked over your shoulder at Natalia, so curious yet so far from innocent herself.

“We go underground to survive. Or run the risk of being killed, or worse.” You’d heard the rumors. Missing mutants spawned stories. Stories of various governments and other organizations abducting your kind for experimentation. A shiver crawled down your spine.

“Sounds like a lonely way to live.”

You slammed the window shut with more force than necessary. “Takes one to know one.” You guessed people in her life were nothing more than fleeting moments either. “My turn,” you said. “What’s got you sneaking around in the middle of the night, attempting murder on the British prime minister?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said as if speaking to a child. She took another long drink, fingers twitching at her side as a nervous tic. “What’s got you sitting in his house playing body double?” Her voice had taken on a defensive edge.

“A friend,” you replied smoothly. “And money, of course. Turns out protecting politicians pays almost as well as stealing from them.”

“Well I’m not a sellout.”

You narrowed your gaze. “No, you just slit throats because you’re told to, then.” Natalia furrowed her brow. “Unless you’re telling me you got bored and picked up a new hobby.” She stayed quiet, your words seemingly falling on deaf ears. “What?” You asked. Her lips were slightly parted. She stalked closer, eyes flickering over your face. “Hey, hey,” you stuttered, tripping over your feet as you backpedaled.

You huffed as you slammed into the wall. She reached out, so close now you could feel her breath on your face. You froze, heart thundering in your chest. She cupped your cheek tenderly, thumb brushing your flaming skin.

“Your eye,” she whispered as if it were something holy.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“It’s yellow. They weren’t different colors before.”

You broke out of her hold, forcing yourself not to run to the mirror on the wall. The frame was a golden oval, hung in between a family portrait and a pair of framed university degrees. Sure enough your right eye had slipped back. You blinked and it fixed itself, but the damage was done.

“I should go,” you muttered, staring at the floor and beelining for the door. Too much alcohol and too little sleep and this was what you wound up with.

Natalia snagged your wrist and held you from taking off. You knew if you pulled away she’d let you go. You untensed the muscles in your back and let her spin you around.

You tilted your head down and met her in a slow kiss. She had you hooked and you didn’t care. You couldn’t think straight, the taste of her lips clouded your head like a powerful drug.

You threaded your fingers through her hair and undid her braid while her hand wandered down to your belt. You pulled back, breathless. “I’m not looking for nothing here,” you insisted, even if only to try to convince yourself.

“Me neither,” she agreed. “One night.” She kissed your neck and a low grunt wound its way up from the back of your throat. “You’ll never have to see me again.”

You didn’t know why a pang wracked your chest still her words. That was the plan, after all. You knew you weren’t cut out for more than tonight. And with the way Natalia dragged her nails down your back, you guessed she wasn’t either.

“Bedroom,” you demanded, stepping out of your pants that now lay pooled around your ankles. You stumbled down the hall, blinded by her body as she lost her suit, and deafened by the way she panted your name between desperate kisses.

God, you were screwed.

—

You didn’t sleep, knowing you’d lose grip on your appearance if you did, but with each passing minute you found it harder and harder to stay awake. Natalia lay pressed into your side, so close that you could feel her heartbeat in your ribcage. Her body radiated heat, not the kind that made your face flush with infatuation, but the kind that felt like finally finding shelter after an eternity in the freezing rain. Her breaths wound in and out as if she were sleeping, but you knew she couldn’t. No. Someone who led her life had to be hardwired to never let their guard down.

Finally, after catching yourself almost dozing off for the tenth time you peeled back the covers and forced yourself to leave the confines of the mattress that seemed intent on sucking you back down. Goosebumps immediately rose along your skin, but you didn’t dare to glance back at bed and the woman feigning slumber. You stood and stretched, working the stiff muscles in your back and shoulders. Don’t look back. You followed the trail of hastily removed clothing down the dark hall and back to the study, candles still alight.

You buckled your jeans and grabbed your bag, lingering by the door. Don’t go back. Hastily you rummaged through the desk drawers, finding a pen and pad of paper. You scribbled down the address of a PO box that you checked quarterly along with a note that read, For another one night.

A/N

If you didn't catch it, R is a shapeshifter like Mystique from the X-Men. I wrote this piece with the intent of having it serve as the first chapter in a longer story. I wasn't certain of the amount of interest in a series though... I fear Tumblr may be drying up some.

Let me know if you'd like to see more and I can post up the second chapter, otherwise I'll leave it be as a one-shot.

As always, thanks for reading and just a reminder, my requests are open.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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criminalmindswhore · 7 months

Text

I am lost.

TW: alcohol abuse, general sadness, depression

This is gonna be a long one, I don't feel like making it into different parts

When you joined the BAU you were coming out of a pit of depression you didn't even know you were in. You didn't join in on jokes, go to Ross's for dinner, and rarely smiled. After a month or so you started to come out of your depression, finally feeling supported by those around you. Emily always made sure you had a full cup of coffee when she refilled hers. Reid always brought you a rock or something from his lunch break walks. Garcia would send you pictures of flowers after hard cases. Hotch even hugged you once. JJ became like an older sister to you. She was only a few years older than you but she became your main support. Emily and her went out of their way to make sure you three always shared a room on cases to make sure you slept and showered.

Recently you could feel the darkness creeping in on you again. You were working so hard to prove yourself to everyone, Strauss, Hotch, and most importantly your mom. The things that usually brought you joy, like running with Morgan, no longer brought you any joy. Morgan picked up on it when you started flaking on him most mornings. He would get a text at 3 a.m., "I'm not gonna make it to our run this morning, I think the takeout we got in Georgia isn't agreeing with me, sorry!" Reid noticed when you stopped bringing lunch to work, insisting you would eat a big dinner. You two always ate together after his walk, debriefing from the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy. He didn't like the show but he watched it to connect to you.

Emily noticed when you guys were in New York for a case. She texted you to let you know Hotch dismissed everyone for the night and she wanted to grab dinner with you. When you didn't answer by the time she got to the room she assumed you were in the shower, but the shower wasn't on. "Hey, have you seen Y/N?" JJ looked up from her book concerned, "No, she disappeared when we got back. I assumed she was meeting you or Morgan." Emily shook away the slight panic and picked up her phone and wallet. "I'm gonna go ask Morgan." JJ nodded, "Keep me updated." Emily nodded and bit her lip.

"No, she said she was gonna go grab a drink and head to bed." Morgan shrugged. Reid perked up behind him, "Is she okay? She's been acting weird." Emily sighed in their doorway, "I don't know. I'm gonna talk to her." Morgan smiled at her, "Just let me know if I need to do anything, princess." Emily took the comfort he was offering by using the pet name. She left their room and walked down to the hotel bar. Lo and behold there you were, sitting at the bar whiskey in hand looking empty. She sighed and walked over to you, taking her place on the stool next to you. You didn't acknowledge her just kept swirling your glass. "Y/N, what's going on?" She took the glass from your hands and asked the bartender for water. You sat up and looked at her offended, "Can I not just have a drink after a long day of tracking down this psycho?" Your tone was straight and a little mean. Emily knew the anger wasn't directed at her and her gaze softened seeing the bags under your eyes. "Y/N you need to talk to me," her tone was soft and gentle. "I don't know what to tell you, Emily. I'm fine, if you don't trust me to have a drink alone maybe you should check yourself." You snatched the glass off the bartop and shot it back, drinking it all in one go. Emily took a deep breath, "Everyone is worried about you. Your regressing back into the person we met when you joined the team. We study behavior for a living Y/N/N." You glared at her, "You all profiled me?" The bartender set down water and slid your tab over to you, exposing how much you've drank. Emily took notice of the 8 whiskeys on your tab and how you left a way too high tip. "Drink the water." Emily's tone was stern and you knew she wouldn't let you leave until you drank it all. The water was cold and kept the burning anger from taking over. "Emily I'm fine." You were completely dejected from her, not even looking at her now.

"That's a lie." Emily was not going to give it up tonight and you knew it. "Either you tell me, or I go to Hotch right now." There was too long of a pause and Emily went to stand. You grabbed her hand, "Fine, just don't get Hotch, please. Being taken off this case would make things so much worse." She sat back down and held onto your hand. You took a deep breath. Everything in you screamed not to tell her, to shut her out, but the look in her eyes pulled all your walls down. "My depression has been bad again and I've been drinking a lot. I've never drunk on the job or been intoxicated at work. I just needed something to make me less numb. I feel so empty all the time except when I'm at work or with you." Emily could see the pain in your eyes, "I think I slept with the director's daughter too but I don't remember. Obviously, it didn't help. It honestly made it worse because it solidified something I've been fighting for months." Emily's heart broke slightly hearing you slept with someone but she shoved it away. "Y/N you could've come to me or JJ or anyone. You are not a burden to us and we want you happy and healthy. Even if it means late-night talks or teary phone calls. We are here for you, don't shove us out. Do you know what triggered this?" You nodded sadly, gripping her hand tighter, "Hotch rejected three of my reports because I didn't write them properly one night when I was on hour 45 with no sleep. It sent me down a spiral of proving myself and overworking." Emily smiled at you, "Y/N, that happens to all of us, it doesn't make you any less of a good agent." You laughed, "Yeah logically, but my brain doesn't think logically when it comes to me. I can think logically about everyone else's issues, but never my own." Emily grabbed your chin and made you look at her, "You have nothing to prove, we all know you're amazing at this job. Y/N you need to get help with this beautiful brain of yours." She smiled sadly at you. Tears started slipping from your eyes, your drunken brain not realizing you were crying. She wiped a tear from your cheek, "Let's go to bed, and we game plan tomorrow okay?" You nodded at her.

She pulled you from your seat, never letting go of your hand. She took the time in the elevator to send Morgan a text, 'I got her. She's okay. Talk more in the morning.' You were swaying to the elevator music, feeling lighter now that you've told someone you were struggling. "You're gonna fall over." Emily laughed at your drunken state, and you shook your head. "Em, I got this." Just as the elevator stopped you slipped and she caught you by the waist. The closeness of your faces took you both back. Your breath hitched which didn't go unnoticed by the raven-haired beauty. You stood up and cleared your throat, Emily smiled to herself. You were so beautiful to her in every way. Even in all the darkness that swam in your eyes, she could see the goofy girl you were inside. She opened the room door for you and JJ perked up, "Y/N! I missed you! Wanna cuddle?" You laughed at her and pulled PJs from your bag. "Let me change first and then all 3 of us can lay together?" Your voice slurring was all she needed to know. While attempting to take your shirt off you almost toppled over. "Here let me help you Y/N." Emily grabbed the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to consent. You nodded and just stared at her face while she took off your shirt and helped you change. She was the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. After you were changed you wiggled into bed between Em and JJ. You turned on a movie but immediately fell asleep holding Emily like a teddy bear. JJ smiled at you, "Is she slipping again?" She asked, not really wanting to know the truth. "Yeah, she was 7 deep when I got there. She told me everything. She slept with the director's daughter." JJ grimaced and Emily had a look of horror on her face. "You told her yet?" JJ had a childlike excitement on her face, Emily giggled shaking her head, "Not yet, not while she's vulnerable like this. Soon though once we get our girl through this." JJ smiled, she genuinely loved the idea of her two best friends being together. Emily told her about her crush on you immediately encouraging her to tell you.

Emily came over when you got back from New York and helped you clear out the many, many, empty bottles of alcohol you had collected. "Y/N, this is a little absurd, I counted 4 bottles in the bathroom alone." You toyed with the hem of your slacks, "Yeah if you buy in bulk at the store on 34th street it's cheaper." A month later you felt like yourself again. Emily spent the night a lot when you felt dark, she would hold you while you cried and would make sure you ate. Morgan would start showing up at your apartment for runs instead of meeting, forcing you out of bed. JJ started sending you home with notes and drawings from the boys. Reid bought you a few crystals that he swears work with depression.

One night you, JJ, Garcia, and Emily were at your apartment watching movies and building a Lego set of a piano. It was getting late so you wished JJ and Garcia a good night before returning to Emily on the couch. You sat beside her and looked at her. She looked at you from her phone and saw tears forming in your eyes. She immediately set her phone down and grabbed your hands, "Hey, what's wrong?" She looked concerned, ready to jump into action, and then you smiled. "I just feel so loved and it's a new feeling for me. The whole team has done so much for me this month to help me. I just feel so much better and I can't thank you guys enough." Emily felt tears in her eyes, she was so happy you felt loved and better. "Y/N, we would give the world for you. At least I know I would." You turned to face her on the couch, now crisscross apple sauce. "Emily, thank you." You pressed a simple kiss on her cheek. She relished in the feeling, her cheeks turning bright red. You gaped at her, "Miss Prentiss are you blushing?" She closed her eyes and winced, "Yeah?" You cackled, "You're being so soft right now, who are you?" She opened her eyes and stared directly into yours, now was the right moment. You were stable, one month sober, and making jokes again.

"I'm a woman in love with you."

Your heart exploded, she loved you. Before you had time to think you cupped her face and kissed her. Her hands went to your waist. Your lips felt exactly as she imagined they would, soft, and plump and you tasted like strawberry lip balm. You pulled away but kept her face close, "Emily Prentiss, I love you." She smiled and a tear slipped down her cheek. At that moment, foreheads touching, the pieces of your life snapped into place. Her fingers traced patterns on your hips, her soft face in your hands.

#emily prentiss fanfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminalmindsxreader #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau

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