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konigs-whore · 8 months

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You found me. ~Simon Riley fic~

[Warnings: Kidnap, language, mentions of assault, blood and gore}

-this is my first time writing a fic, so please bare with this lol.-

What if the cab driver suddenly turned in the wrong direction and told you he had his own plans for you? Simon had gone over these types of situations with me, but never once did i think it would be a reality. Fear takes hold of me as our eyes meet in the rearview mirror. Every muscle in my body trembles with trepidation as I unlock my cell phone and shift my gaze for a moment to check Simon's name on the messenger app. With one swift stroke, I send off a simple text; one that we had already formulated in case of such an emergency. ‘Falcon’.

I take a deep breath, some of my tension easing knowing that Simon had prepared me for this possibility; I open my eyes and reflect on all that he taught me. "Check the doors - they must have child locked them," I muse quietly. Tentatively, I reach out and try the door handle; it doesn't move, as I expected.

The driver sternly warned me, "Don't attempt to do anything foolish. It won't end well for you." I could feel my muscles tense up as I looked in his direction. My curiosity got the better of me and I asked, "Why are you doing this...who do you work for?" Suddenly I remembered Simon's words: 'Do whatever they tell you to do without asking any questions until I arrive'. A wave of apprehension emanated through me as I released a shaky sigh. All of a sudden the driver snatched my phone from behind his seat, stating gruffly, "I don't want you trying to call the authorities".

I press my lips together, gazing out the window as we approach the outer limits of the city. Squeezing my eyes shut in dread, I fervently wish that Simon will find me before it is too late.

After what felt like hours, we pulled up to a neglected cabin situated in the far depths of the woods. I tensed, my body curling into itself as the driver turned around brandishing a syringe. He spoke with warning in his voice, "Don't fight it, darling." He pushed himself into the backseats and before I could do anything more prickly pain shot through my neck. I gasped, touching my neck while staring at him wide-eyed. My throat tightened as I whispered, "W-Why?" As if magnetized by an invisible force, my eyes crossed and my eyelids gradually grew heavy.

When I stir, finally regaining consciousness, a thumping headache greets me. My attempt to move is foiled as I realise my arms and legs are bound to the chair. My vision adjusts slowly to the meager illumination of the room. An odour of decay and a nauseating metallic stench fill the air, provoking within me a deep desire to retch.

My gaze immediately flickers to the creaking metal door, and a man in a military uniform appears. His dark hair and the multitude of scarring showing on his face caught my attention, but what was most memorable was the twisted grin he wore as he spoke with a distinct Russian dialect. "Ah, you have awakened," He uttered, steadily walking closer. I remained expressionless and silent, watching him intently. i feel nothing but raw evil intent coming from him, and i have to force my body to remain still, to keep from shaking.

The man's glare fixed me in my place as he spoke, his tone edged with menace. "We can keep this simple and get you out of here if you tell me where Ghost is located and his name," he said. I stayed silent and received a punch to my cheek for it, pain radiating from the impact. Stifling a grunt, I shot him a challenging look and said, "I've met Girl Scouts who pack more of a punch than you."

He was clearly not pleased and he unleashed a series of angry punches to my face. I felt several of my teeth loosening and soon there were several of them lying on the floor along with the blood that I had coughed onto his face. My expression didn't waver but my eyes bore into his soul. "You're going to regret that," he snarled, and then an excruciating pain surged through my thigh. I clenched my teeth together tightly, trying hard not to make a sound. When I look down I noticed the blade of a knife sticking out from my leg.

He violently tears out the blade, and I can't contain my sharp inhale of pain. His lips pull up into an evil smirk as he presses his digits into the open wound, mercilessly causing excruciating torture. With a sinister laugh he relinquishes his grip, then forcefully grasps onto my swollen and bruised jaw to make sure that I don't avert my gaze from him as he interrogates me. "Where is he?" He barks through his clenched teeth in angry rancor. “ fuck you” i spit on his face. my bloody saliva running down his cheek. he raises his fist to strike me again, halting abruptly when loud shouting is heard, followed by gunshots. he shoves my head back with a growl of anger. he curses in his mother language, grabbing a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back with the knife at my throat. “what is his name”he orders, pressing the knife against the flesh on my neck. “hm, depends on what mood i'm in" i remark, earning myself a wound on my neck as he presses the knife into my skin. “ you fucking bitch” he yells. the shouting and gunfire in the distance grows louder, and he grows desparate. i smile at him, tauntingly. “what? thought i’d be an easy target?” i mock. he snarls at me. the metal door flys open, and he quickly hides behind me, continuing to hold the knife at my throat. i smile when i see the guest is Simon, my Simon. his rifle is aimed at the man behind me as he advances closer, his large form gives off a terrifying aura, like a predator stalking it’s pray. “release her” he orders, his British accent echoes throughout the room.

I watch as Soap, Price, and Gaz enter the room, their guns raised. I smile at them and greet, "Hi guys," as if it were a normal day. I see Soap shaking his head slightly—presumably in reaction to my greeting—as the man behind me yanks my head back until it hits the back of the chair, eliciting a whimper from me. The Russian threateningly slides the knife across my neck and demands that they lower their weapons or I will die. As I can no longer see the boys in front of me, I hear frantic shuffling and then, suddenly, a loud bang rings out. The grip on my hair releases, followed swiftly by the one holding the knife. A thud sounds behind me, leaving me with no doubt in my mind that he is dead.

With a slow lift of my head, I was met with Simon kneeling before me. The rope binding my limbs was quickly cut and a sigh escaped my lips as the adrenalin dissipated. "You found me," I whispered, collapsing into his arms. Then, Soap ran toward us with an exclamation of surprise. "Aye lass, you look like hell." I couldn't help but snort at his description as my gaze fell on the wound on my thigh. "Feels like it too," I mumbled. Gently, Simon scooped me up bridal style, while Soap wrapped a cloth around my thigh to stop the flow of blood. Smiling, I glanced at Simon and half jokingly said, "I dunno what you did to piss them off, but leave me out of it next time, yeah?" His voice gruff yet filled with worry, he shook his head with a grunt. "There better not be a next time," he sternly uttered, stress evident in the look he gave me as he searched my body. i reach up and gently grab the side of his mask, not taking it off, just simply resting my hand there. “i’m okay darling, nothing a good stitch wont fix”i say softly trying to ease his worry. he holds me tighter as everyone starts to leave the room. “receiving that text.. i lost my mind”he whispers in my ear. “i can imagine, i’m sorry for the fright. had i known that cab was a ploy, i might have rode my broom stick this morning instead” i say. Soap laughs loudly behind us, and Price chuckles with a shake of his head. Simon shakes his head, “stop yappin nonesne” he says grumpily, but i hear the faint amusment in his voice.

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 9 months

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The Case of the Missing Lifeguard

pairing: steve harrington x female byers!reader

WC: 3.9K

warnings: cursing, sexual innuendos, byers and steve fighting (so sorry). should be all!

summary: more russian decoding

A/N: ALL PARTS UNDER THE TAG - The Byers Harrington Story-

look i know i said byers and steve would be happy and in love this season. and they are, but of course byers has common sense and doesnt want to deal with this shit for a third year. TOO MUCH TRAMUA ALREADY!

@alecmores my lovely editor and friend💕

series masterlist / steve harrington

previous chapter next chapter

The ringing wouldn’t stop.

Well, it would for about a minute before blaring its noise again then stopped and the cycle repeated until someone picked up. This routine happened three times before it was cut off and you faintly heard someone talking.

You readjusted your head as you tried to slip back into a deep sleep. Your back felt warm and scratchy. A nice weight was thrown over your waist and a slight touch to your stomach that twitches every time you took a breath. You pulled Steve’s arm tighter as you shuffled closer to his chest. You heard his intake of air as his nose rubbed over your neck.

“Stop…” he trailed off in his groggy voice. A sleepy smile tugged the corners of your lips, eyes still closed. “Sorry,” you mumbled as you finally got comfortable again.

You didn’t have to work until later this afternoon as you were happy to take full advantage of sleeping in and have Steve all to yourself until work looms over your freedom. Skin to skin, legs tangled beneath the sheets, your hands interlocked over your stomach… this was happiness.

Sadly, happiness always comes to an end in Hawkins. In this case, the knocking at your door and the voice of Jonathan on the other side calling your name made you groan as you squeezed your eyes in frustration. Steve’s puff of air hitting your neck also shows his discontent at being bothered by your brother this morning.

“What?” You yelled aloud, voice pointed away from the door with your sleeping position.

“Is Steve there?” His voice was muffled. “Yes,” Steve gave a simple yelp.

“Are you both dressed?” “No! What do you-”

“Mr. Harrington is on the phone. So I suggest some pants, Steve.” A simple knock on the door before you heard Jonathan’s footsteps falling away.

You felt Steve’s arm tense at the mention of his dad and could feel the shift in his attitude. With another sigh, he reluctantly pulled away from you and went to one of the drawers in your dresser that held a collection of items Steve brought from home or clothes you found at the thrift. He pulled a pair of black sweatpants over his boxers and a simple oversized band tee.

“Looking sexy,” your morning voice rasped. You saw the shake of Steve’s shoulders and the shake to his head, “shut up,” he grumbled. He set a knee into your mattress and leaned down to press his lips to the side of your head. You hummed at the affection and peered at him when he pulled away, “one more?” you questioned with a pout to your lips.

“How can I say no to you?” He whispered before swooping low. It was a simple press, nothing hot and heavy like last night. You just knew Steve needed something sweet before talking with his father who he hasn’t heard from in almost two months, only his mother calling every few days at night.

“Wish me luck,” Steve mumbled as he left your room.

You waited about two minutes before sighing as you pushed yourself off your slept-in bed. With the weather warm in the summer you’ve been wearing nightgowns to bed, allowing you to feel your periodic fantasy. You slipped a yellow gown over your body, ruffles at the shoulders and collar with embroidered flowers detailing the top. Everyone makes granny jokes when they spot your flowy gown.

As you stepped into the hallway, just a foot past the threshold, you could hear Steve as he spoke to his father. Sighs and hums with a grunt here or there before you hear a weak “yes sir” and the phone being hung up. You leaned further out and saw Steve leaning against the wall with a hand on his hip with the other running through his bedhead. He looked stressed.

With bare feet, you walked the short distance from your room to the kitchen. Feet stopping you immediately in front of Steve who had his eyes closed and lips downturned. Fingers curled into the cotton fabric of his oversized shirt and gave a gentle tug for his attention. Steve’s hands immediately settle over yours, his fingers rubbing over your wrist as his dimmed eyes look back at you.

“Oh, Stevie.” You cooed at the shadow over his features. Just a simple phone call with his father caused all joy to wash away, it was Mr. Harrington’s superpower, which made him the villain in Steve’s story.

Steve huffed, “says he wants me home for a little before work and then, get this,” you raised your brows as you listened intently to Steve, “says we’re going out tonight as a family to some fancy place outside the city.”

You rolled your lips, “at least you’ll get a free dinner.” You tried to make him laugh or something. Steve gave a snort and a tiny smile, a win in your books.

The both of you stayed in your spots, not bothering to move a muscle. Steve’s hands left your wrist to then hold you by your hips and pull you closer, chest flushed to his. You set your chin against his clavicle and looked up with wide eyes.

“How long are they back for?” “Just the night.” His voice was so tired just from three words. You couldn’t suppress the eye roll. Of course, they were only here for the night before heading out somewhere far away from their only son. You felt Steve’s chuckle and heard the single noise, at least you could make him happy again with the show of annoyance towards his parents.

“I wish I could keep you forever.” The words just flowed from your mouth. Steve’s eyebrows rose a bit, “I think that would be considered kidnapping, but I’ll happily be your hostage for life.” Your teeth were on full display with the wide smile, “Stockholm syndrome love.”

“You guys are gross.” Both your heads whipped to the new voice. Jonathan leaned against the hallway with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Just jealous your Nancy Drew isn’t here.” You teased your moping brother. Jonathan rolled his eyes at you and walked into the kitchen.

You pulled Steve’s hands away from your body and he frowned a bit at the action, but you tugged him behind you and towards the couch. You were suddenly reminded of yesterday and what was probably Dustin and Robin eagerly waiting for the both of you to arrive at work so the four of you could crack the Russian mystery code. You still didn’t want to get involved in any way, but with people you cared about doing this you couldn’t just back out and leave them hanging dry. You would push away your anxiety and nagging. Plus it was just figuring out what they were doing in Hawkins, you’ll bring the information to Hopper once you know.

“Steve… I’ll be by your side during this… investigation. I still don’t like us getting involved, but like you said, it’s nothing crazy. Also, we go to Hopper once we have enough information for him to relay to… higher government officials.” You looked deep into his eyes making sure he was understanding each letter. You find the Russians then tell Hopper. Not doing anything stupid after.

Steve licked his lips, “Okay, yeah that… that’s good. Perfectly good. I’m sure Dustin will understand, even though he wants to be an American hero.”

You pressed a finger to his chest, “Don’t act like that wasn’t your first thought when Dustin brought up the tape. I saw the look in your eyes. We’ve been American heroes for two years, just hidden in the dark.”

Steve glanced towards the living room windows. Fully in tack and in need of cleaning. You touched a hand to his cheek facing away from you and pushed his attention back to you.

“Steve, I hope you understand the worry I’m pushing away for you. I could fully ignore this, but I won’t cause the thought of you or Dustin or Robin being hurt in any way when I could have been there… just don’t misplace my trust in you.” You let your thumb rub his cheek.

His brows downturned just a bit and his eyes softened into doe eyes, “I won’t. I promise. And I’ll be there to protect you and everyone if something happens.”

“You need to stop putting your life on the line.” You pleaded. Steve didn’t say anything, his eyes just buzzing about. He moved his fingers to circle your wrist, “I’ll always put myself in front of danger if it keeps everyone else, especially you, safe.”

You closed your eyes with a pout and leaned your forehead into his. The two of you didn’t say anything else, just wallowing in the words that were exchanged.

Stupid fucking Russians.

An hour into your shift is when Erica and her friends make their presence known.

You were busy in the backroom. Cleaning, sweeping, inventory, hiding in the ice box so you could avoid people letting their anger out on you. Robin said she could handle manning the front on her own, but hearing the service bell ringing nonstop, you felt lied to. Bracing for impact, you pushed the metal door open and threw the sliding divider open to see Robin wearing headphones with her eyes focused on a book. You gave a shove to her shoulder to pull her back to work. Her brows furrowed and she moved the headphones off her ear and around her neck.

“What?” Acting like she was doing the one thing she wasn’t supposed to be doing while out front. Your brows shot up and you pointed a finger behind her which prompted her to turn and lean against the counter.

Erica gave a smug smile to both of you before opening her mouth. “I’d like to try the peanut butter chocolate swirl, please.” Giving the act of innocence to any passersby.

“No.” You were putting your foot down, “No more samples today.” Leaning your upper body on the countertop.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re abusing our company policy.” Robin pointed out. Erica just rolled her eyes before getting a bit defensive, “Where’s the sailor man?”

“Sorry, he can’t help you. He’s busy.” Robin replied with a smile as she turned her back to the counter. “Busy with what?” Erica was always persistent.

Robin shot you a look before turning around again, and you could hear a smugness in her voice as she said one word. “Spy craft.” Like that would explain everything to a ten-year-old and her friends. You would have chosen the word, numskulls, but to each their own.

When Dustin arrived at the shop he instantly whisked Steve away and you had to bite your tongue. You were going to be a supporting friend and girlfriend no matter how much the circumstances made your skin itch. Dustin was rambling about something to do with the Russians as Steve did a quick look over his shoulder at you, and you just gave a tight-lipped smile and a simple nod.

“Robin, can you please not wear the headphones when behind the counter? Please, just be a little professional today.” There was a slight edge to your voice. You were getting stressed and when you got stressed you got… Well, Jonathan calls you ‘bitchzilla’.

You noticed how Robin’s bright blue eyes swept over your face, how the front of her brows pinched in the middle. Even a downturn to her lips changed her freckle-splattered face into one of worry.

“Everything okay in lovey-dovey land?” She went for teasing to get answers. And you were trying to see how much pushing she could do before you spilled like a running waterfall.

You sighed with your shoulders held high from tension, “Perfectly fine. Exceptionally fine. Probably just my period and stress being mixed.” Your eyes stayed fixed on the counter as you drew a figure eight over and over.

Robin’s hand landed over yours and it forced you to look at her. “Yeah, I’m not buying this bullshit. What’d lover boy do? Need me to beat him up? Need Eddie to beat him up?”

That pulled a laugh from you. “No, no. He doesn’t need to be beaten up, plus I would do it if needed.” Giving her a knowing look, remembering Billy last year. “I- I just…” Your tongue licked the corner of your lip, “I don’t like us getting involved with this Russian business.” The real answer was said aloud.

“Why?” Robin’s question instantly. You looked at her like she grew two heads at once. “Why?! What do you mean why? It’s dangerous!” How come you were the only one seeing this clearly?

She shrugged her shoulders, “it’s just figuring out the coded message. Nothing crazy and we probably won’t even run into any Russians.”

You wanted to tug at your hair. You haven’t told Robin of the Upside Down or the demogorgons or El. She doesn’t understand the full severity this situation could lead to. Nothing has been normal for two years in Hawkins, and yeah, Russians are more of a government concern. But the Upside Down was also caused by the government. They are always up to something.

“You know what, fine. Continue decoding the message and I’ll continue coming off as the overdramatic friend worried for your safety. Enjoy your book, Robin.” You pushed away from the counter, ignoring Robin’s call of your name. You walked back into the freezer and screamed even though you were sure it wasn’t soundproof.

“Have a good day.”

The elderly couple left holding hands and you drank up their love for each other. The tables and booths were empty and wiped down multiple times since you needed a mindless activity. You could hear Robin muttering to herself behind the divider and you tried to block her out and focus on the pop music playing from the speakers. While the music wasn’t loud enough, the knocking on the back door certainly was.

You pulled the window open and Robin didn’t pay you any mind. “Could you get the door? Or would you like to man the front?” Robotic monotone. She cocked her head to the left and hopped off the counter to the door.

You saw it was a delivery person and turned back around. You once again wiped the ice cream counter out of sheer boredom. Your eyes drifted up and were met with Dustin and Steve’s disappointed faces. You cocked a hip and set a hand to the bone, “How was the spy craft?” full sarcasm.

“Oh, you’re not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian.” Steve scoffed and shook his head. “You did too,” Dustin tried to defend himself. “No, I did not.” And you heard his voice and he thought the same thing. The two continued bickering about someone as you heard the swinging door being pushed open and saw Robin dashing out of the store into the mall. The three of you shared a look before Steve and Dustin ran after her.

“Guys!” You yelled after them. You may dislike your job, but you weren’t gonna leave it abandoned. So you huffed as you were left in the dark until they came back with some revolutionary news.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that they came back. Robin had a spark in her eyes and she couldn’t stop smiling. Dustin and Steve were behind her and both looked just as pleased. They didn’t even stop to say anything, just walked into the backroom and sat at the table. They were starting to piss you off. You continued serving ice cream and cleaning tables until you got your fifteen-minute break.

You leaned on the counter as you called threw the divider, “Steve, work the front. I’m going on break.” And your voice held no room for arguing. Which prompted Steve to jump from his seat and rush to your side.

“Baby-” “Just let me have my fifteen and I’ll be back to my winning personality.” More sarcasm to deflect. You threw your sailor hat down and started towards the entrance until you felt Steve wrap his fingers around your wrist and tug you back. You narrowed your eyes as he peered down at you.

“Steve-” “Robin cracked the code. Again.”

You just shook your head, “Okay, so…” you trialed off waiting for more. Steve licked his lips as he quickly looked around the empty parlor then his eyes were back on you. He leaned closer and lowered his voice, “The Russians are using the mall as a base of operations.”

Your brows ticked, “I thought we already knew that because you heard the song.”

Steve’s eyes darted around, “Well, yeah. But, we now know they are using the delivery company for something.”

You gave a slow head nod. You looked over your shoulder then back to Steve, “Okay, great. Can I take my fifteen now?” Your tone lightened up but you could still see a bit of hurt in Steve’s eyes as he slowly let you free. You rushed past the crowd of shoppers and went to sit outside and just people-watch. Distract yourself from the panic growing cause you know they won’t stop at this. Dustin is always nosey and Robin falls into that same category without intention at times. And Steve just kept playing the hero.

You hunched over your legs with your head bowed, hair blocking the beaming sun from your eyes. Knee bouncing in a fast rhythm as your fingers curled tight around the cement blocks you were sitting on.

“Stupid fucking Russians.”

“Wish I could join you.”

“Oh, trust me. You don’t. After only two minutes I’ll have to restrain myself from stabbing my ears.”

Hands intertwined and resting on your thigh, Steve drove the two of you back to your house. You pushed earlier away from your thoughts and just focused on Steve who would have to be with his parents for the night. You only wish you could join him so you could be his human shield from the scrutiny of his father.

“If you see anything I like, could you maybe get it and bring it tomorrow for lunch?” Head turned on the leather of the seat to stare at Steve’s profile.

He tilted his head, “We’ll see.” He’ll bring you food tomorrow.

You dragged the pad of your index finger over Steve’s knuckles, head lost in thought. Your attitude from earlier nagging at your brain. You were being a bitch, but for a good reason.

“I’m sorry… about earlier, at work.” Eyes looking up from your downturned head.

Steve took his eyes off the road for a second then back, “It’s okay. I know it's from a place of worry.” He pressed a kiss to your skin.

His headlights beamed onto your dark house, no one’s cars out front. You grabbed your backpack from the floor and held it in your lap. You leaned over the console and gave Steve a sweet good night kiss to his lips and then pulled away to give one more to his nose, your second favorite place to kiss.

“Ignore your parents. Just think of something you’d rather be doing while at dinner.”

Steve’s eyes crinkled and a devilish smirk popped up. You rolled your lips. “Oh, I think you know what I’d rather be doing.”

You scoffed as you pushed the door open, “Get out of here, perv.” Jokes to hide the ache forming in your stomach.

You sent Steve off with a wave when you opened the door and saw him reversing out the driveway. Once the door was closed you heard the clap of thunder and the fast thudding of rain pelting on the roof. You headed to your room to change before going to the kitchen. You heated up one of the frozen dinner meals and sat in front of the TV.

While you were engrossed with the new episode of Moonlighting, a loud pounding on the front door gave you a heart attack. Setting a hand to your heart to wait to see if it could come again and it did, then it was followed by voices shouting over the rain. You pushed off the couch and headed to the door where you could hear the voices a bit better. You threw it open and were greeted by two soaked teenage boys.

“What are you guys doing here?” Leaning against the door.

“Is Will home?” Lucas asked. You looked between the two, “No. Why? What happened?”

They exchanged looks before Lucas spoke again. “Will got mad at us and rode away earlier.”

You straightened up and took a step closer, “What did you two assholes do?”

“Nothing!” Mike cried. “Bullshit! Will takes a lot from you guys, so what did you do?”

Mike groaned, “He said it was supposed to be a day free of girls and we would play Dungeons and Dragons. But we were goofing around and not taking it seriously and I’m still upset about El-”

“What’d El do?” A sudden detour. “She dumped his ass,” Lucas answered. You hummed, “Good for her. Now continue.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Will and I got in a fight in my garage and then he took off.”

You were simmering with anger. “Go home. Both of you!” And you slammed the door in their faces.

You checked his room, but he wasn’t there. So, you checked the next place he could be if he came home without your knowledge. Throwing on a raincoat you headed to Castle Byers.

As you got closer you could hear noises when the thunder stopped. There was yelling and the sound of something being hit repeatedly. Your steps quickened and your heart broke at the sight lit up by the lighting.

Will sat in the mud outside the broken-down fort. His back was hunched and his shoulders were shaking with cries that you wished to never hear again. You took slow steps and called his name a few times before he looked up. His face was scrunched in agony as he heaved cries over and over. You fell to your knees and pulled him into your chest, one hand holding the back of his head while the other rubbed his shoulder blades. Will’s arms snaked under your coat and wrapped tight around your waist, his fingers curling into your shirt.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Will. I’m here.” You cooed into his ear. Tears bubbled to the surface and when they fell they mixed with the rainwater.

“Ever- Everything has- has changed.” Will hiccuped. “It’s- It’s not fair!”

“I know. I know it isn’t.” You petted his hair. “I wish things could be different.”

“Stupid. So stupid!” Another cry of pain.

You wish you could fix everything with the snap of your fingers like comic heroes. But all you could do was be there for Will and console him through his anguish.

Will’s crying slowed down, and his arms loosened. You kept your hold on his and continued the repetitive petting of his slick hair. Then you felt him tense and he pulled away from your hold, eyes looking around the dark forest.

“Will?” He raised a hand to the back of his neck and turned his back on you.

“Will! Will, you okay?” You heard voices coming your way. Lucas and Mike emerged from the darkness. You just narrowed your eyes.

The three of you focused your attention on Will who was wide-eyed and shivering. His arm dropped to his side and it was like he was seeing everyone for the first time tonight.

“Will?” You held his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

He looked from you to the two boys then back to you.

“He’s back.” He shuddered.

...

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toadstoolwriting · 7 months

Text

Star Crossed- Chapter Three

Warnings: More google translated Russian, angst (?), german asshole and cursing

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

Chapter Two

______________________________________________________________

The night had gone better than you expected after the phone call. The alpha, Bucky, seemed content sitting on your couch as you read a book. You had attempted to check on the bandages, but each time you got close, he would pull away from you, so you decided to leave it alone for the time being. At least he didn't seem to be in any immediate pain. It's not like you had anything to help him anyway. You knew you should have bought a first aid kit when you moved in two years ago.

You were extremely nervous about leaving him alone there. Something inside you was nearly screaming at you to stay near him. You had never really been the kind of omega to feel the need to care for alphas, but something about him made you want to ensure he was okay and to be near him at all times. It was a very new feeling for you.

You must have fallen asleep reading because you awoke to a knock at the door. Immediately upon awakening, you jumped up, the book falling on the floor, and looked at Bucky. His eyes were on you, but his body was pointed toward the door, with squared shoulders and his feet in a wide stance. You tried to calm your pounding heart as you made your way to the door. It was probably your neighbor or something. As you had made contact with the cool brass of the knob, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stilling your actions.

"Нет, не открывай дверь. Мы не знаем, кто это" You looked at Bucky; his jaw was set, and a scowl was on his face. You really wish he spoke any English.

"I have to open the door. What if it's my neighbor?" You half-whispered. This close to him, you could smell the sour lemon radiating off of him. You really wondered if you would ever be able to sense what his base scent was. It always felt like it was corrupted by something. Right now, there was very evident fear.

"Оставь их в покое. Это может быть Hydra" His hand was still on your wrist, squeezing lightly. Another knock sounded from the door, this time louder than the one that woke you up.

A voice also came from the other side saying your name, "I just wanted to come check on ya to see if you needed a ride." John, thank god it wasn't the police coming to find the alpha in your living space. You thought it might be the neighbor; sweet old beta across the hall would sometimes bring you breakfast. But with the loud knocks, you had doubted your assumption. Usually, her knocks were quiet, and she never knocked twice.

You moved your wrist from under Bucky's grasp and lightly pushed him to the other side of the door so you could open it without him being seen. It's not like it would help, though. His scent was filling up the entire space.

"Hey, John! It's good to see you." The alpha in question was waiting there, his hands stuffed in his pockets and an eyebrow raised. He took a second, looking you over and around the space before speaking.

"Yeah, yeah, you need a ride to the station?" John wasn't really one for formalities at the best of times. As of right now, he looked stressed. You guess it had something to do with last night, given that the "burglar" had targeted his business.

You were hoping to avoid going down to the station for the time being, at least while Bucky was in your care. You also weren't the best liar, and it's not like you could just walk in there and tell them that you helped the man who broke into your boss's establishment and brought him to your house.

You took a deep breath. "Actually, I was hoping to do that later. Something came up that needs my attention right now." You smiled at John, one of those awkward "what-can-you-do" smiles.

"Unfortunately, I am afraid you can't do that, missy. That german asshole... what was his name...Detective Schwarz said to have you come in as soon as possible." He took a breath, "real piece of work, that one."

A noise came from behind the door, causing you to look in Bucky's direction. His hands were on his head, covering his ears, and a pained look was on his face. The scent of fear filled the room. You looked back at John and gave him a quick, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, John. This is really important, but I must deal with something. I promise I'll go this afternoon, but right now, I have to close this door, bye." You said it so quickly that some words jumbled together as you shut the door. Turning back to Bucky, you moved closer to him, hoping to help somehow.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" You moved your arms out to touch him, but he backed away. "What is it?"

He stumbled to the ground, sitting with his back resting against the door. You followed him down, trying to figure out what to do.

Your instincts pushed you to get closer. Facing him, you leaned into his neck, scenting him. You tried to radiate calm, caring energy as you nuzzled his neck. It took a second for you even to realize what you were doing. You felt his shoulders move down before feeling his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. His breathing slowed from the short breaths. He dipped his nose against your scent gland, taking long whiffs, assumidly breathing you in.

"Bucky," you exhaled, feeling so relaxed in this position you didn't know how long you had been like this. You hadn't known him for a whole day yet, and here you were scenting him, and he was as well! You had never been even close to doing so with any other alpha you had been around. You tried to get up, seeing as his breathing was normal and his scent had become sweet, almost like lemon meringue. But his arms squeezed you a little tighter, keeping you in place.

"Don't go," his voice was deep and strained, almost as if it hurt him to utter those two words. Wait, he can speak English... this entire time, he could speak English, yet here you were, thinking there was no hope for communicating with him. You wondered why he could suddenly say it now and not earlier.

You gave him a few more moments like that, him holding onto you like you were the single thing keeping him tethered to the earth. You moved very slowly from his grasp, keeping close in case he needed you. You looked into his eyes. This was your first time looking at them so closely. They were beautiful crystal blue, seemingly as deep as the ocean.

"What's wrong?" You whispered, his eyes dilated at your voice. His chest moved as he took a deep breath, carrying you with it. He must have been searching for the right words because it was several moments before he spoke.

"Handler." His voice was quiet and shook as if saying the word terrified him.

"Handler? I don't think I understand."

"My handler." The phone rang, making him tense under you. Seriously, people needed to leave you alone. Unfortunately, it seemed like that knocked him out of the moment you two were having because he gently moved you to the side as he got up and made his way to the living room.

You grumbled as you got up, making your way over to the phone. Sparing Bucky a look as you passed by, you didn't know what he had gone through, but between the wounds he still had from the day before, and how he reacted to that one name, you knew it had to be quite traumatic. You grabbed the phone, slightly irritated about it interrupting.

"Hello?" You practically growled into the phone.

"Hello, this is Detective Schwarz at the Cushing Police Department. I wanted to ensure you came in today to give your statement." This guy definitely had a prominent german accent that was for sure. Your eyes move to look at Bucky, sitting on your couch, hunched over, looking at his hands, quite unaware of the person on the other side of the phone.

"Hello, may I ask why you called?" You were trying to keep your voice as even as possible, but it was challenging.

"Ah, yes, I wanted to make sure you came in to give your statement. Normally, we wouldn't allow you to do it the next day, but given your... designation. We wanted to make sure you were comfortable and ready to. Must have been quite scary for you, knowing the place you worked at was burglarized a mere minutes after you had left it." His tone irked you. It was one alphas did when they looked down on you. Something you were very familiar with growing up.

"No, I am fine, thank you." You forced out through gritted teeth.

"Excellent, then you'll have no problem coming in by noon? If you don't think you can make it, we can always come to you, where you're comfortable in your nest." By now, you were seething. This pathetic excuse of an alpha just insinuated being in your nest. The audacity of him and all the other police officers on the force! Had they no shame?

You bit your lip before speaking, "No, sir, that won't be needed. I'll be there at 12."

"Wonderful," He didn't even leave time for you to respond before he hung up. Now you understand what John meant when he said the detective was a piece of work.

You sighed, feeling most of the tension leave your body. Something in the back of your mind made you have a bad feeling about this, though. But you really didn't need the police coming to your apartment, especially with Bucky around. You had no idea how he would react to them, especially if the detective showed up.

You looked at the clock in your living room, 11:30 a.m. Great. You made your way over to the loveseat you had occupied last night.

"I have to go to the police station to give my statement." as soon as you said police, Bucky's head snapped up in your direction. You rubbed your hands together for some reason, very nervous to make him upset. "If I don't, they'll come here, and I would rather that not happen. I won't be long. Just please stay here. We'll figure out what to do when I get back."

Honestly, you didn't know the end goal here, to get him away from here. Something inside you hurt at the idea of him away from you. It's not like you could run away with him, though. You had a whole life here, and you couldn't just give that up for some alpha you met last night. Sighing, you looked back up at him. Trying to read his face, it had returned to what seemed to be a permanent scowl.

"Okay," was the only thing he said. You nodded and went to get ready as quickly as possible, trying to look like you didn't have a rough night last night when you arrived at the station. It was only a fifteen-minute drive, but you were still cutting it close in time.

You were ready, at the door leaving your apartment, when you looked at Bucky again. He was looking at you with the same scowl. You wanted to give him a hug but shook the thought out of your mind. Shutting the door behind you as you left. Unaware that once you had made your way out of the complex, a certain alpha had also left your apartment.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading! I think I'll try to make these progressively longer.

What do yall think is going to happen when reader goes to give her statement?

Also, did you know lemon meringue was popularized in the 40s? According to my google search, at least. What a coincidence.

Constructive criticism is encouraged!

No beta we die like men

See you in the next one - Phrog

#bucky barnes #omegaverse #alpha bucky x omega reader #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic

55 notes · View notes

isabella-kr · 1 year

Text

Chapter Nine: Housekeeping

This story will include mature themes, please only read if you are 18 years old or over.

If you are underage, you can read the Wattpad version instead as it will include no smut.

This is a work of fiction and does not represent the real Army.

Synopsis: Captain Price and his team comb through a townhouse in London in hopes of finding the stolen Russian Gas.

Pairing: John Price x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, injuries, gun violence, terrorism, death.

Word Count: 4k

Note: Really sorry it took me so long to update; I was going through a rough patch and didn’t have the energy to write! But I’m back now :D

Note 2: Special thanks to @deriley whose work was the inspiration for the Gaz joke :))

Series Masterlist I COD:MWII Masterlist

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Splashes of colour danced behind her eyelids like those of a firework on a cloudless night sky. The pads of her tired fingers pressed into her sensitive eyes and an exasperated sigh tumbled past her dry lips as her elbows dug into the soft skin of her thigh. The force no doubt left a circular mark underneath the thick material of her cargos, but she paid the tension no mind as she continued to rest her head in her palms.

Despite securing her place inside the building, the cold, late October air continued to leave an uncomfortable prickle against the apples of her cheeks and tips of her ears. Right now, she wished for nothing more than to have one of the hats Price adored so much covering her own head.

“You good?” Came Thomas’ croaked voice.

The sergeant sat beside her with a packet of sweet chocolates in his hand. He offered some to her, and although she often refused the treats, this time she could not help but accept. She reached for the packet, and feeling it crinkle around her hand, she pulled out a small number of star-shaped chocolates. Placing them on her tongue, she hummed in delight as the sweetness gracefully crowned her tastebuds.

“Just tired,” she told him, rubbing her hands over her face once again.

“Me, too.” Thomas hummed, “Hope I get shot and sent home.”

Her head snapped in his direction with a furious look. With a sharp swing, she slapped her hand against his forehead, watching amused when his head was flung backwards. His palm soothed the sore, red spot that was quickly growing on his assaulted forehead, and the scowl that formed on his face showed just how little he appreciated the gesture.

Hesitant footsteps coming their way caused them both to turn before any more words were exchanged, their eyes landing on a very uncertain Gaz. He was biting on the inside of his cheek, and his hands moved from his pockets to cross over his chest in an unsure manner. The nervousness was practically radiating off him in waves, and so the two decided to take pity on him.

“Garrick,” called Thomas, his hand gesturing at the young Sergeant.

He approached the two with a stiff smile as his hands fell limp at his sides. He sat on a small bench opposite them, a sigh leaving his parted lips when he rested his back against the cold wall.

“Gaz, right?” No-Face asked with a gentle tilt of her head.

He confirmed with a nod.

“Cat got your tongue?” she raised a brow with a teasing smile.

“Sorry,” he suddenly straightened his back, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Really keeping up those formalities, eh?” Thomas chuckled, “Why the nickname? You gassy?”

The young sergeant looked taken aback by the question. His brows raised and eyes narrowed slightly.

No-Face almost laughed. Almost. She caught herself just before the sound escaped her lips, and sent a fake, scolding look in Thomas’ way.

“Wiz,” she warned.

“I’m only asking,” he defended with a grin, “Come on, tell us.”

“It’s Gaz, not Gas. Ga-z,” the youngest of them all retorted.

Thomas puckered his lips, “So you’re not gassy?”

“No,” he stated. After a short pause, he spoke once again, “When’s the brief?”

“When Price gets here,” No-Face decided to answer, cracking her neck as she leaned against the wall, “He was on the phone with Laswell last time I saw him so it might take a while. You can go inside if you want,” she gestured at the room the brief was to take place, “The others are already there, I think.”

He nodded with a hum of acknowledgement, “You two known him long?”

“‘Bout five years,” Thomas revealed.

Kyle looked to her then, and she let out a breath before replying, “Almost a year now,” she said, “Don’t worry Gaz, he’s a good Captain. Might look intimidating, but he’s nice, really.”

“Speaking of the captain,” Thomas manoeuvred in his seat to face her, “Since when do you call him Price?”

Her brows knit in the middle, “What do you mean?”

“Before you went on leave, it was always ‘captain’, and now it’s ‘Price’,” he pointed out with wild eyes, “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she denied with a shake of her head, “You’re overthinking it.”

“Am I?” he raised a questioning brow.

She nodded, “Yup.”

“Alright, then,” he exhaled sharply, “Keep your secrets.”

“There’s no secret.”

I just don’t want any false rumours to spread.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching caused their mindless bickering to cease. Speak of the devil.

Price approached the three with a quizzical look. His brows raised and arms lifted to hold onto his vest before he spoke, “Why aren’t you inside?”

“That’s on me, sir,” No-Face quickly replied, “I had a headache and wanted to wait out here before having to sit in that stuffy room. Thomas decided to join me and then Garrick somehow got involved, too.”

He only nodded, and then gestured for them to enter the crowded room. Gaz was the first to walk through the door, closely followed by Thomas, and then No-Face who was almost at the very back of the group. John was right behind her, his hand gently squeezing her shoulder before they entered walked through the threshold of the door.

She decided to stand at the back and lean against the cold wall, whilst John moved to the very front. He placed his jacket on a chair and began to speak, his gruff and stern voice making sure all were paying attention to his words.

“Alex and Commander Karim’s forces have destroyed General Barkov’s Forward Operations Base, temporarily limiting Russian air capability in Urzikstan.” He explained to the large group, wordlessly congratulating the CIA agent and Commander, “We need to move fast.”

The captain then looked towards Gaz and sent him an acknowledging nod, “Sergeant Garrick, thanks to your intel, we’ve tracked the Al-Qatala cell responsible for the Piccadilly attack to a townhouse in North London.”

He half-leaned against the desk that stood behind him, “Three SAS teams will get inside and connect the dots. If the Wolf is in possession of the stolen Russian gas in Urzikstan, we need to find him. Be advised: there may be non-combatants on target. Check your shots.”

The helmet felt heavy on her head, and if she wasn’t already used to the extra weight, she was certain she would have struggled to keep her head up. The engine, although powerful, was quiet as they drove throughout the empty side-streets of London. Or rather, as quiet as an Army vehicle could really be.

The moment the car came to a halt, silence settled upon the soldiers. Thomas and No-Face shared a look, and she pulled the black mask up until it reached over the bridge of her nose. Upon Price’s signal, the door was opened, and the captain’s voice echoed throughout their comms.

“Targets are up, boys. Let’s kick this off,” he said as his boots slammed against the stone pavement.

Price and Gaz took their positions at the front of the group, their guns held securely in their tight clutches as the others followed behind them. No-Face found herself just behind Thomas, her eyes scanning the area for any danger they might not have anticipated during their plans. She found nothing. The area was clear.

The group of soldiers stopped as they approached a metal gate, only resuming in their march once Gaz cut the chains which held the gate secure with a pair of bolt cutters. The chain dangled from the metal, but thanks to Garrick’s careful movements, it made little noise to alert any civilians of their presence.

“Bravo 6, moving on the rear garden,” Price spoke through the comms once they reached a small, wooden gate before pushing it open.

The soldiers were quiet as they moved in, their guns aimed at the brick house whilst infiltrating the back area of the house. The wild barking of a dog echoed in the distance, but the soldiers were much too focused to pay the otherwise distracting noise any attention.

“Bravo 6, this is Alpha 2,” a male voice answered through the comms, “About to enter the west alley.”

“Copy.” Was the captain’s reply.

As Price and No-Face took their place at the back door of the house, the latter moving to her knees to unlock the door, Thomas and Gaz stayed in the back. The newest addition to the then opened up a ladder and positioned it at an open window above him.

“Bravo 6, moving interior.” Price announced once the lock clicked, and the soldiers began to move in.

They remained quiet as they gathered in the kitchen, only the voices of the hostiles filling up the space in the house. “I’ll put the kettle on,” a female voice said from the other side of the door, but once the door was opened, a soldier grabbed and pulled her to the ground before she had the chance to scream or let alone gasp in surprise.

“Attacking Russia’s the wrong move,” One of the hostiles spoke, his voice almost getting overshadowed by Alpha 1’s order to remain quiet.

“It’s what he wants,” another hostile replied as the soldiers began to move into the corridor.

Price and No-Face were first in line to engage, prowling through the dark corridor as the voices continued to speak in an urgent manner.

“Won’t that encourage them to align? We’ll be fighting everyone,” one of the Hostiles said.

“We’re working with an ultranationalist group,” a woman replied, “They’ll handle operations in the East after the attacks.”

“Trust the Wolf,” a man retorted.

“You know I do,” another male hostile spoke, “But this operation failed, so why are we doing this?”

It was difficult to not alert the hostiles of their presence, but the darkness aided them in their mission. “Take the front room,” the captain told Gaz as he and No-Face sneaked in further, only stopping by the steep staircase. “Drop ‘em.”

“It did not fail,” a female hostile argued, “Your dead brothers made sure of that.”

“We were supposed to have double the body count,” a male hostile raised his voice at the woman, “It’s all over the flippin’ tele-!”

“That’s the point!” a man yelled, “This is the United Kingdom. Do you think anyone walks around worried that they’re gonna get blown up? Well now they do.”

No-Face and Price exchanged a look. The former assassin moved up one step and aimed her gun at a male hostile who sat comfortably one of the chairs. He looked relaxed, and if she wasn’t as good at controlling her emotions, his demeanour would have made her snap.

She didn’t understand; how could one knowingly cause so much pain and suffering? She was in their place once, she had to remind herself. But then again, she never knew the aim of her missions. It was ‘kill or capture’, and return. No questions asked, no further information given.

If she knew, she would never have done the things she did. But they knew what they were doing, and it made her blood boil.

“Al-Qatala is a household fucking name,” the hostile spoke again, “We need to coordinate with the other groups. Paris, Moscow, Munich...”

“And the Yanks?” the woman questioned.

“Soon.” He paused, and a certain silence enveloped them all. “Where the hell is that tea?”

That’s when they struck.

Pressing the trigger of her gun, she shot the man sitting at the table. His body went limp in an instant, and before havoc could spread in the dining room, the soldiers shot all the other hostiles present in the room.

“Secure,” Garrick announced through the comms.

“Alpha 3, entering through the front door,” A man from one of the squads spoke.

“Mark?” No-Face pointed her gun upwards when a panicked voice sounded from the first floor, “Mark, what’s going on?”

The front door opened and the hostiles on the floor above began to panic. The bedroom doors slammed and hushed voices gave out urgent orders. John moved in front of her, gesturing for her to move behind him as they waited for the others to join.

As she placed the night vision goggles over her eyes, Thomas and Kyle joined the two on the stairs, standing behind the captain and the lieutenant. Only once everyone was ready, did they begin to move forward.

“Bravo 6, moving to the first floor,” Price informed the other squads.

The hostiles’ yelling was muffled from inside the rooms, men and women arguing in a panic as they contemplated their next moves. Before they could come up with a clear plan of action, the soldiers infiltrated each and every room.

With her gun securely in her hands, No-Face pushed open one of the doors and stormed into the room. A man, with a woman held tightly in front of him, aimed his own pistol back at her. Unfortunately for him, she was better trained, and before he could even think of injuring her, she aimed her gun at him and shot him right between his eyes.

He fell to the ground, and with a fearful scream, the woman fell on her knees and crawled away to hide from the intruders. “Hostile down. Careful, there’s a civilian here.”

“Copy,” a man replied through the comms.

“Two X-Rays down,” Garrick’s voice echoed in her ear.

“The floor is secure,” Wiz added.

“On me.” Price said.

Everyone once again gathered by the staircase, and it was only once everyone was back in their earlier position that they began to climb further.

“Bravo 6, moving to the second floor,” Price announced.

They moved as quietly as they possibly could through the house. Their footsteps were feather-light despite the weight of their boots, and if it wasn’t for the creaky wooden panels, she was sure their whereabouts would not be exposed.

“Outside the door!” And angry voice yelled before a series of bullets flew their way, creating a large hole in the door that separated them.

As though it was instinct, No-Face took hold of the flash grenade attached to her waistline and threw it inside the room. The white flash that lit up the room blinded the hostiles, temporarily proving them useless in the fight.

“3-1 get up here, now!” Price yelled through the comms as the soldiers barged into the room.

“Roger! Moving!” The other squad leader replied, their boots stomping against the wooden floor as they rushed up the stairs.

Still blinded, a man ran out of a room. His shots were aimless and erratic, most bullets lodging in the walls and missing any soldiers standing near him. Gaz was quick to react to the man’s yelling and shot him before he could cause any injuries to the special forces.

Another man rounded a corner, half-hiding behind the edge of a wall as he shot at the soldiers. No-Face hid behind a turned over table and shot back, ending his life on the spot.

The areas turned quiet, then, with no bullets flying and no yelling echoing throughout the house.

“Floor secure,” She spoke over the comms.

“Rally at the stairs.” Price ordered.

Just as she was about to step out of the room and join her superior, the injured body of Captain Davies was pulled across the corridor. He groaned in pain as blood gushed out of his wounds, staining the floor beneath him a bright red.

The corners of her mouth curled downward at the sight, but she shook off any feeling of sympathy and marched towards the staircase. She was back behind Price, with Thomas and Gaz lining up right behind her.

“Bravo 6, taking the third floor,” John spoke as they stalked up the creaky stairs.

The concerned words of a woman echoed throughout the old house, “They will kill you!”

“I swore an oath!” a male voice replied, “I will not betray the wolf!”

“Then let me help!” the woman argued, “I don’t want to be here if you’re gone...”

The rest of the conversation fell upon deaf ears. No-Face tuned out the hostiles, and tightened her hold on her gun before looking over her shoulder to check up on the sergeants behind her. Thomas sent her a small nod, but Garrick was much too focused to even notice her looking in his direction.

“Check your shots,” Price warned with a deep voice as he stopped on one side of the door, No-Face mirroring his action on the other.

Garrick then kicked down the door, the end of his gun coming face-to-face with a frightened woman. “Hands up, now!” he yelled as she ran to the side of the room, where the loud cries of an infant bounced off the walls.

The frightened mother took the baby into her arms and clutched it tightly against her chest. Thomas was first to approach her, yet had to remain cautious and kept his gun aimed her way. “Don’t move!” he ordered and helped the woman get on her knees.

“Secure ‘em,” Garrick spoke, “Shut that kid up.”

“Wiz, escort her out,” No-Face ordered. He followed in an instant, helping the woman back to her feet and leading her out of the room.

He covered her eyes with his hands as they descended the stairs, assuring she would see no dead bodies or blood that littered her home. She was crying all the way down, but the sounds of her sobs and the infant’s screaming slowly grew fainter as they made their way out of the townhouse.

Garrick was quick to burst down another door, but hid behind the wall when a series of bullets came his way. The room looked empty, with no person in sight. That is until she saw him; a head peaked out from under the bed, and handgun was aimed in their direction.

Taking the chance, No-Face looked through the scope of her gun and with one easy shot, she killed the man before he could kill them. His hand went limp then, followed by a loud thud of the metal gun slamming against the wooden floor.

“Secure,” she told her team after infiltrating the room to find no-one else there.

“Last floor,” Price’s voice spoke in her ear, “Take point, sergeant.”

Kyle enjoyed breaking down doors, she realised. Every single one that blocked their entryway was torn down by his skilful hands, and then he was swift to run up the steep stairway. She was close on his trail, staying right behind him when he stopped by a metal door. He attempted to burst this one down as well, but when that didn’t work, he groaned in displeasure.

“Locked,” he complained on the comms.

“I’ve got it,” Price appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and made his way up towards them with large piece of metal that he slotted between the door and its frame. The door groaned as the metal pushed it apart, a loud crack almost causing her to flinch when it finally opened. “Try and take ‘em alive.”

A dim light escaped from the newly opened room, allowing them vision they did not previously have; it wasn’t bright, but it allowed them just enough vision to no longer rely on the goggles. It was a relief, really, and No-Face was happy to push the heavy goggles up from her eyes and over her helmet.

They entered the room with slow and calculated steps, their eyes scanning the room carefully in case a sudden hostile decided to take their chances with them. Aside for the clutter of old books, and unwanted rubbish, the place was mostly empty.

“Down! Get down, get down!” Kyle yelled when a woman came into view, but before she had the chance to answer, or move out of his way, his bullet was lodged in her body, and she fell to the floor as papers flew into the air around her. “Clear!”

“No-one else here, sir,” No-Face eventually spoke, looking over her shoulder to lock her eyes with the captain. She attached the rifle to the waistband around her hips and ventured further into the room, crouching beside the woman and placing her fingers against her pulse. She was gone. Dead.

“All teams, townhouse secure. Commence SSE,” Price spoke into the microphone connected to his earpiece.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the sound of Kyle’s gasp caught their attention. No-Face cautiously made her way towards him and analysed the metal box that he was suddenly holding in his hands, “She was going for the bloody detonator.”

Placing a laptop on top of the desk which the detonator was previously sitting upon, Price stepped beside them, his shoulder briskly brushing past hers, “Good job we dropped her, then.”

Garrick’s brows knit together, “We made the right call, sir?”

“Bet your arse,” Price hummed with a nod of approval, “We got a location on the wolf.”

He turned the laptop their way, and the two immediately began to scan its contents.

“Ramaza Hospital?” she voiced.

Price nodded, “In Urzikstan. Alex and Commander Karim are planning their attack now. We should know more soon enough.”

The late-night air felt chilly against her exposed cheeks. Being back at the base brought her a certain type of comfort yet sleep still refused to find her that night. She had been granted much more freedom in the past weeks, and one of them included being able to move around without her shadow; the soldier previously ordered to keep an eye on her at all times seemed to be gone, and she couldn’t have been happier.

She smelt the smoke before she even heard him approaching her. Price leaned sat down beside her on one of the few benches located on the base. It had to be way past midnight at that point, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked after a few moments of silence.

He hummed, and despite not touching him, she could practically feel the vibrations rolling off him, “Paperwork.”

“It’s a nightmare,” she admitted, “If you told me I would have to do so much paperwork, I would never have agreed to being a lieutenant.”

He laughed. His eyes crinkled as he brought the cigar to his lips and blew the smoke away from her. She could still remember, in the early stages of their relationship, when he cared little about smoking around her – he would even smile smugly, she recalled, when uncomfortable coughs would leave her throat in his smoke-filled office. But now, despite them sitting outside in the open air, he made sure the smoke would go nowhere near her.

“What are you doin’ up?” he asked with a raised brow.

She shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“You look exhausted,” he pointed out.

“Thanks.”

He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic tone, “Just worried. If the missions are too much-”

“They’re not too much,” she cut him off, “Really, Price, they’re not. I’m fine.”

Despite the sceptical look in his eyes, he nodded, “Alright. Never sleep past six.”

“Sorry?”

“You never sleep past 6am,” he said, “Never fall asleep before 3am either. You get three hours of sleep tops; that’s not healthy.”

“And you’re the definition of healthy,” she sent him a look, then glanced at the lit cigar between his fingers.

Silence. Their eyes locked, and she wasn’t sure whether he was going to scold her for her attitude, and for pointing out his obvious hypocrisy, or laugh at her words.

“Fair point,” he licked his lips and then stood back up. His hand was held out towards her, and after staring it for quite some time, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help pull her back to her feet. “Gotta get some sleep.”

She exhaled sharply, but nodded nonetheless.

“Don’t give me that look,” he told her with a small laugh.

She couldn’t stop herself from mirroring his expression, a smile growing on her own face. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight,” he squeezed her shoulder.

She wasn’t certain when the change happened; when his touches were no longer fleeting, but rather lasting. When his fingers remained on her clothed shoulder or upper back a little bit longer than normal. She wasn’t certain when they became so comfortable with touch. She didn’t know when, or why, but a part of her was happy it did.

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ravenn-darkholme · 2 months

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Permanent Price chapter 3

Alex Summers x Mutant!OC

Summary: Isabella Darkholme, sister of raven Darkholme and Charles Xavier. Also a mutant. Her mutation allows her to blend in with the light rays, turning herself and whatever she's touching invisible.

word count: 3149

warnings: none that I know of

series masterlist

They pulled up to Agent Koenigs's facility with a new addition to their little mutant group. Charles introduced him to raven, his name was Erik Lehnsherr. His mutation was that he could control metal. It was an amazing mutation. Bella was astonished. Mutants really are amazing.

"Welcome to my facility. My mission has been to investigate the application of paranormal powers in military defense." Koenig said.

"Or offense." Erik cut in. Isabella didn't need to be like Charles to know Erik was only here to kill Shaw, he really wanted to get this over with.

"This guy Shaw, Schmidt, whatever you want to call him, he's working with the Russians. We might need your help to stop him."

Bella tuned them out grabbing her sister's hand securely. They may have been adults but bella had terrible anxiety. Ever since she was a child, she could barely go out in public. She missed that motherly figure in her life to tell her it would be okay. Raven and Charles were there for her of course, but she dreamed of having a mother, or even just a parent. So whenever she was near lots of people or just in public, she would stick close to her sister. Raven sometimes acted as a mother, even though they were the same age, she was just very maternal and loving.

"So we're to be the CIA's new mutant division, yes?" Charles asked keeping his sisters in his eye line making sure Belle was okay. He knew how bad it could get, sometimes he would calm her with his mutation, but thankfully he didn't need to do that today.

"Something like that," Koenig said. It made bella feel uneasy. What else would they be doing? Are they keeping them, prisoners? The thoughts getting to her head made her breathing shaky. Raven could tell her sister was feeling anxious and put her arm around her and kissed the side of her head whilst muttering "It's okay. I'm here, you don't need to feel like this." Surprisingly it made her feel better, just knowing her sister was there gave her a feeling of warmth.

The mutants followed the agents further into the building until they were beneath a huge jet, attached to the ceiling by thin wires. that didn't look safe.

"It's uh supersonic." A man said who seemed to be working nearby. Everyone looked up at the jet in awe.

"Hank, these are the special new recruits I was telling you about." - He nodded towards the group. - "This is Hank McCoy, one of our most talented young researchers."

"How wonderful. Another mutant, already here." Charles said stepping closer to the man and shaking his hand. This made Isabella happy. There really were mutants in plain sight, hopefully, one day it would be normal for mutants to be around and not having to hide - as raven does.

"Why didn't you say?" Charles asked Koenig.

"Say what?" He replied with a confused tone.

"Because you don't know. I am so, so terribly sorry." Shit Charles. Isabella looked at him with a sorrowful look. He seemed like a nice guy, yet here he was being outed by Charles.

"Hank?" Koenig asked with what seemed to be an amazed expression - let's hope it was that anyway.

"You didn't ask, so I didn't tell," Hank said looking down.

"So, your mutation is what?" Raven asked stepping forwards, still holding onto her sister's hand. "you're super-smart?" she teased.

"I'll say. Hank here graduated Harvard at the age of 15." Charles spoke up.

"I wish that's all it was." Hank shyly told.

"You're in the company of friends now, Hank," Isabella said to the newly announced mutant. She wanted him to feel safe around them. She knew how it was to be shy and how it can take a toll on your social status.

"You can show off," Charles added. Hank stepped back and started to take his shoes and socks off. Bella wondered what his mutation was.

"Splendid," Charles said after seeing his feet. He had hands for feet. Truly amazing how a mutation can change something.

"I'm sorry," Hank muttered as he moved around the group taking a big leap and jumping upside down, and holding onto the jet with his feet.

"Amazing," Isabella said with a smile to the man who shyly smiled at her sister.

⋆✩⋆

Isabella couldn't help the smile that came over her face as she sat across from her sister. After they met hank they all went their separate ways. Isabella just strolled around the building invisibly so she didn't get stares or didn't have to smile and talk to people. It did make her sound like a resentful bitch, but she couldn't care less. Currently, the two were sitting in their shared bedroom that was in the facility. At first, Bella wanted a room by herself so she didn't make raven feel like her carer, but raven loved being with her sister. Nothing could break them apart. Bella reading a book, and Raven flipping through a magazine, while music played softly in the background.

"What?" Raven asked once she saw that her sister was smiling at her.

"Nothing." Isabella shrugged before she went back to her book.

"Belle." Raven pushed as she knew she was lying. She just wanted to know what Bella was smiling at her for.

"You and beast-boy huh?" belle teased as a smirk replaced her smile,

"Beast-boy?" Raven questioned with a whine.

"Yeah cuz' his feet are what you'd imagine a beast to have like in the story Mom told us." Raven smiled at the mention of their late mother. She had died when they were roughly eight years old. All they had to remember her by was the necklace Isabella wore. Bella went on and on for raven to keep it, but raven knew how belle needed things like that to keep her close to family when things got too much for her. Sometimes when she was young and her mother kissed her goodbye to school she swore not to wash that cheek until she saw her mother again. That's how bad it was.

"Do you miss her?"

"Yeah, but I know she would be proud of us. For sticking to what's right." Isabella said fiddling with her necklace. The only time she took it off was when she showered so it didn't get rusty. Raven had their mom's ring on her right-hand ring finger.

"If mom didn't die, do you think things would have been different?" Raven questioned quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like maybe we wouldn't have been as close, we wouldn't have met Charles. Maybe our mutations got out of control and we expose ourselves and make everything worse-" Raven rambled on.

"Let's not think about what could have happened yeah? Let's be glad we're here now, safe doing things we didn't know we could. I miss Mom, but I'm glad she's at peace now." Isabella said before smiling at her sister.

"So. back to you and beast-boy" Bella laughed as she saw her sister face plant the pillow.

⋆✩⋆

Isabella was in astonishment as she followed after Raven and Erik into what Hank presented to them as Cerebro.

"Okay, so, uh, the electrodes connect Charles to the transmitter on the roof. When he picks up a mutant, his brain sends a signal through a relay, and then the coordinates of their location are printed out here." Hank explained his invention. Isabella stood with her brother as they looked over the piece that he would have to place on his head, while Raven and Erik stood with Hank beside the controls. She couldn't help but feel a little anxiety about what they were to be doing but she pushed it aside as she watched Charles place the helmet on.

"What an adorable lab rat you make, Charles." Erik teased as the woman switched places with Erik and stood next to her sister. Bella felt glad Erik was warming up to them and agreed to stay with them. When they first found Erik he was incredibly closed off. It had only been a day but he was opening up more and more. Bella and Erik both had the same goal at the end of the day. Kill and find Shaw. Something they bonded over. It may have been out of character for Bella to be so violent, but if Shaw was actively hurting and threatening people, including her family, she wanted him gone.

"Don't spoil this for me, Erik." Charles shot back as he got relaxed in the chair.

"Oh. I've been a lab rat.

I know one when I see one." Erik admitted.

"Are you sure we can't shave your head?" Hank asked Charles as he made sure the helmet was on accurately.

"Don't touch my hair," Charles said instantly, displeased with hanks offer. Hank just nodded before he went back to the control panel. Turning on the machine and flipping all the needed switches. Isabella waited in suspense as the room seemed to get darker and the lights of the machine seemed to be the only things illuminating the room. Charles grunted in pain as he grasped the railing that seemed to surround him. Bella grabbed her sister's hand as they waited in anticipation.

"It's working." Hank declared to the other mutants as they observed Charles. Bella couldn't help but smile as she watched her brother chuckle in amazement at what he was seeing.

⋆✩⋆

Isabella sat on Charles's bed as she watched him pack a small bag. He and Erik would be traveling to recruit some of the mutants that Charles had found while in Cerebro. Her plan would be to beg Charles to let her go with them. She was bored of staying in the facility, which was not like her. Normally she would stay in her room listening to music, reading, and wouldn't come out. But something was drawing her away. Like a magnet in her stomach pulling her somewhere and she needed to follow it.

"Are you sure I can't join the two of you?" She asked.

"The new recruits will need friendly faces to greet them - preferably other mutants - when they arrive," Charles explained to his younger sister. He wouldn't have minded if Bella just joined the two of them. Making sure she was ok and safe. Of course, she would be fine at the facility, especially with Raven, but he worried for her and knew how she got.

"And you, my dear sister, have one of the friendliest faces I have ever seen," Charles added as she stopped next to the woman and put his arm around her shoulder. She missed moments like this, they hadn't had one in a while.

"He isn't wrong. bella" A new voice joined them from the doorway. Isabella turned her head and saw that it was Raven, walking through the door.

"This won't work you know.." Bella rolled her eyes as she pulled Charles' arm away from her.

"What won't work?" Raven smiled as she walked closer to her siblings.

"She is right. Isabella is way too stubborn to let this go." Her brother laughed.

"I was just hoping to get out of this stupid government building," Bella said, shocking her siblings.

"Really? Normally you would stay and curl up in your room. Your not the type to go out specifically to see people." Her sister really did know her all too well.

"I don't know. I think I wanna just get out. All the government agents creep me out and I think I need to learn to be around people more, this might help." It wasn't a complete lie, but if she said the real reason Charles would immediately shut her down and probably laugh and tell her she needed rest. She saw her brother have a look of contemplation on his face before he opened his mouth and agreed for her to tag along. She squealed with excitement. Maybe Charles wasn't so protective anymore, maybe he was finally letting her have her own life.

"Okay well have fun for me. Good luck meeting new people bella." Raven said hugging her sister. It might've seemed childish, but Isabella really did have a hard time near people. She'd gotten better recently though, and raven was proud of her sister.

⋆✩⋆

Isabella was delighted that Charles had agreed for her to come search for the mutants

As Bella sat in the car waiting for Charles, she found herself wondering what the real reason was for her desire to go with Charles and Erik. The pretend magnet in her stomach got more and more intense the more they searched for other mutants. With no answer from the universe she was hoping for, Isabella decided to get out of the car and find Charles, erik, and the mutant they were there for. When they pulled up to the strip club, Charles forced Isabella to stay in the car. His protective side revealing which was really starting to irritate Bella.

The invisible mutant phased through the doors of the club. She then phased through a few private areas, before finally coming upon the one Charles and erik were in. She saw the beautiful girl before her eyes and smiled once she saw the captivating wing that protruded through her back.

"Badass." Bella said, making herself visible. Clearly captivated by the girl and her wings. Charles sighed at his little sister whilst Erik and the girl-Angel- smirked at Isabella.

"How would you like a job where you get to keep your clothes on?" He said to the mutant as she wafted in the air, her wings fluttering around her.

Once they sent Angel to the CIA facility, the next mutant they were to recruit, was a taxi driver named Darwin.

"Where to?" Darwin asked the three, sending a charming smile to Isabella.

"Richmond, Virginia, please." She told the man before Charles could interrupt her.

"Right, so, you want the airport? The station? What?" Darwin chuckled.

"No, we were rather hoping you would take us all the way." She smiled.

"That's a six-hour drive."

"That will give us plenty of time to talk," Erik smirked before shutting the fare meter, making Darwin look back in surprise.

Now they were in a prison to see another mutant - of course. Isabella wasn't sure about this one, since he was in prison. As they made their way through the prison, following the warden, Isabella felt the fictional magnet in her stomach start fluttering around, tugging her harder and closer than it had before.

weird.

what is weird belle? She heard Charles in her head.

"Stop invading my mind, Charles." She grumbled, before stopping in front of the cell holding the mutant - Alex Summers.

"What does the government want with a guy like Alex Summers? I hope you're not planning on putting him with others. First guy, I've ever met who actually prefers solitary confinement." The warden said to them in a judgy tone. People like him were some of the reasons Isabella was anxious to go out, I mean come on no need to be so judgy.

He opened the door and there they saw Alex who so say caused havoc, Bella was guessing with his mutation. The warden cautioned them earlier, about putting him with others in a group, as Alex was the only prisoner he'd known to actually prefer solitary confinement like the warden said before. He looked up with a scowl on his face. Apparently, he wasn't actually bad, just worried about unleashing his mutation and hurting others around him.

We can fix him up. Bella thought feeling the need to help him understand his power, and make him feel more secure using it if he wants to of course.

Once they left the prison, Isabella decided to go back to the CIA facility with Alex. Obviously to see Raven no other reason. She also wanted to assure Alex he won't cause any destruction or hurt others. Charles was reluctant to leave Bella to go back on her own and thought it was odd that she would happily leave the safety of her brother, knowing she preferred to stay with her siblings. Maybe she was coming out of her shell though, which would be amazing for her.

Currently, Bella was sitting next to the newly recruited mutant. She could tell how tense and nervous he was to be out of solitary confinement. They hadn't said much to him about what they were planning, so Isabella felt the need to explain everything, not even just what he was here to do. She wanted to explain mutations to him too. Now she may not have been as smart as Charles, but she knew more than the average person on mutations. After forcing Charles to read about it all to her, she felt pretty confident she could explain it to him and help him understand.

"You don't have to be so nervous you know. I don't bite" She told him softly with a smile.

He didn't say anything, continuing to stare at the airport around him. Isabella sighed not knowing what to say to him. She knew all too well about being quiet. All bella wanted to do was help him.

"I'm not going to ridicule you for whatever you did, or your mutation." She sighed, needing to let him understand she was here to help. Alex looked toward Isabella scoffing before saying.

"I can take the insults, I just don't want to hurt anyone. I don't think you understand how destructive I am."

"You know if you were to get out of control, ill be here to help. I can create forcefields that are sealed tight and impenetrable, nothing would get in or out of my forcefields. I can do other stuff too, but ill only show you if you tell me about you." She smiled.

For the whole plane journey, they both shared storied about their life. Alex even opening up to Isabella about his abilities. He shared the story of how he ended up in prison. She felt for him, no one deserved to feel that way about themselves or their powers. She even ended up making him laugh, which made Belle feel warm inside at the sight.

authors note

hey, lil detail of belle and ravs moms necklace and ring</3 now ik in the movies we know literally nothing bout her parents but in this ff they're mother was a mutant and she was killed because someone in their hometown found out bla bla, with my personal anxiety experiences ik I liked to cling to family or things of my families ik everyone's different but some people will relate :) thnx for reading pls vote !!! ALSO, OUR OTP HAS FINALLY MET YYAAYAYAYA okay ship name ----BALEX ---- CUTE OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THEIR JOURNEY HJAHSIHAHDAUKH

I'm so excited for balex wedding au you do not understand

btw I will be doing all movies plus an AU once dark phoenix is done (spoiler Alex wont die... or will he;)

dont forget to vote && comment

#lucas till #alex summers #alex summers x reader #xmen fanfic #sue storm #x reader #x oc #mutant #raven-darkholme

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princessgriffin1998 · 1 year

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Specimen FX-23: Project Snow Fox // REBIRTH

Hello everyone!

I know I’ve been trying to edit my previous instalment to this series so that I can proudly present: REBIRTH. Part two of the Specimen FX-23 story.

I won’t lie, it’s been really challenging personally to write and have the bravery to post this, but I’m going to continue to push myself outside my comfort zone. I have quite a bit of the story completed, so I am going to do my best to see my story fully realized. I want to give a huge thanks to @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for always being so sweet to me and encouraging me to write, and I want to thank you for clicking this post and checking out my fun, zany lil world I’ve created for myself. I hope you enjoy the story and please leave your feedback in the comments!

This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader story with an AFAB reader and the use of nicknames (no Y/N).

Find the full story here!

Chapter Summary: After a few days with Shuri at the Los Angeles Wakandan Outreach Centre, Captain Rogers has arrived to bring you to the Avengers Compound.

Word count: 5.5k

RECOVERY / Next Chapter

Chapter One: Good-bye

“Good morning Soldat.” a man's voice greets you as you pant. The last of the electric current fizzled out of your system as your eyes finally unscrewed themselves and tried to focus on the technician in front of you.

“Ready to comply.” you respond breathlessly.

“We have a different training exercise for you today. New combatants. Get equipped and be in the training room in 10 minutes.” with that your technician stalked out of the room, the door bolting behind him. The clamps around your biceps and ankles launched open with a hiss and you shakily stood. You knew better than to be late as you made your way over to the metal lab table that held your equipment for the day.

You showed no emotion as you took in the suit in front of you. It wasn’t your normal lab clothing. You reached out a cautious hand to test the dark coloured fabric. It felt strong despite how smoothly the fabric flowed. You quickly stripped and changed into the suit, uncaring of the leering gaze from the scientists behind you. They only spoke English anyways and you hadn’t been able to learn enough to understand what they said about you while you undressed. You quickly slipped on the black socks and knee high boots left out for you. You secured your hair down the nape of your neck and away from your face as you glanced at the last item on the table. It was completely foreign to you. Slowly with your index figure, you traced over the smooth material of the item. You picked it up and turned to the scientists behind you.

“What do I do with this?” you called out in Russian.

You expected the eye roll from the man with the glasses; Doctor Nagel. Something deep in your gut told you that you shouldn’t let them know how much you could understand. Even though they rolled their eyes or got irritated with you, you never used any of the English words you had been able to piece together over… well, your whole life here.

“Silly girl. Can’t you see the ear hooks?” Nagel motioned his hands up to the sides of his head as if that was supposed to clear things up for you. You blinked at him till he threw his hands up and stalked over to you.

“Give that to me. Hands at your sides.” he commanded and you handed the item to him then pinned your wrists to the outsides of your thighs.

Nagel was your creator. You had no choice but to listen when he spoke to you. You’d tried to resist before, but found you were physically incapable of denying his wishes. No matter how disgusting they were. Nagel reached out and slipped the object around your mouth and nose, hooking the loops over your ears and securing what you assumed to be some kind of fabric fastening around the back of your head and along the nape of your neck. You could feel where it connected to the neckline of your suit. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your startling reflection in the lab window. Suited in all black up to your nose, your eyes glinting over the top of your new muzzle.

“Perfect. I think she’s ready for the Widows boys! Get to the training room now.” Nagel sneered and you raised your chin as best you could from under the muzzle before taking quick strides towards the training door.

When you entered the room, you were surprised to see another girl, but upon another glance around the room you realized there were several women, all similarly outfitted to you, minus the guard over the face. At the end of the gym, there were new men. They weren’t dressed in the standard lab clothing that your handlers wore. They wore suits with pressed pants. An older gentleman stood between several assumed guards, thick black glasses perched on his wide nose. He had silver hair that was slicked back and his left hand twirled a lit cigar. A ring flashed on his pinky.

“Soldat! Center of the ring.” your technician snapped.

You moved smoothly to stand opposite the young woman in the centre of the ring. She had warm, deep toned skin and piercing brown eyes. Her hair, a texture you’d not seen on any of the regular technicians that came to your lab, was twisting tightly in rows starting at her forehead and tracing down the back of her head to her neck. She glared at you and you clenched your jaw. She was beautiful. Your only human experience thus far had been the cruel men of your lab. Faintly, you wondered if she’d be allowed to live after whatever training was coming next.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the next phase of human evolution!” Nagel announced from behind you. You pressed your palms flat against your thighs as Nagel made his way around you, tossing an arm around your shoulder as he spoke to the new men.

“Today, we would like to show you the fruits of your money and our labour. Gentlemen I’d like to introduce you to Specimen 23 of Project Snow Fox.”

You startle awake, the dream leaving you in a cold sweat as you try to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding in your ears, a sure fire sign of a migraine on its way. Subconsciously you rub the back of your neck as you lay back down on your pillow, trying to breathe deeply and taking in the bumpy white ceiling above you.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, it hits you what day it is and you shoot upright in your hotel bed a second time.

Today is the day.

Any remaining traces of your nightmare vanish as you throw yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to begin your morning routine. Quickly brushing your teeth and securing your hair back and out of your face, you whip off your sleeping clothes and quickly change into an all black ensemble of cropped yoga pants, an athletic tank top with a sports bra underneath, and a black zip up. You make your bed and quickly go through your duffel bag again, everything perfectly folded and packed from when you’d refolded and packed it for the third time last night.

Today is the day.

Smiling, you slip on some black boots and grab a pair of aviator sunglasses. You put on a plain black ball cap, tucking your hair through the gap above the adjustment strap. You grab your backpack and adjust the straps slightly so that it sits comfortable on your back, giggling to yourself about the shape. Shuri had thought it was hilarious, grabbing the tiny backpack that looked like Cap’s suit. The two of you had snickered the entire time you were paying.

You quickly made sure you had all your important items inside the backpack; your music device from Shuri with your headphones, your journals and a pencil case of different pencils and fancy pens, a metal water bottle, a set of kimoyo beads Shuri had gifted you before your trip, and half a strip of photos from a photo booth. Shuri had taken you to a mall to get some American clothing and the two of you had stopped on a whim at a booth in the mall. Shuri had the top half of the strip and you had the bottom; two panels of you and Shuri grinning from ear to ear, almost spilling your smoothies on each other while laughing.

With a deep inhale, you take in one last glance at the hotel room that had been your home for the last week, before grabbing your room key and making your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

‘Today is the day.’

You and Shuri had been staying in a hotel down the road from the Wakandan Outreach Centre for six days. You haven’t seen Bucky or the rest of the team in nine.

After the fight in the lab you had been devastated. It had taken almost a full 24 hours for Shuri to be able to move you from your spot bundled up on the couch. All you’d had the energy for was quietly crying while Shuri rotated different movies for you. She put on all your favourites and brought you snacks that you couldn’t stomach and water you could barely sip.

You knew that Bucky might be upset with you for wanting to leave Wakanda, given that he’d been hiding the offer from you. He’d clearly not wanted you to move to America yet, and even though yesterday you had been hurting you had hoped that he still cared about you despite being worried about Hydra’s potential control. Obviously he just couldn’t trust Hydra, and you knew with his background that you would probably always be a threat to his family.

Maybe this was your fault too. You’d evidently read too far into his kindness. You’d been too unstable when you were first freed. Maybe he’d gotten close to you in order to tame you. Aside from Shuri, you didn’t have a metric for how much was too close to someone. He could’ve been a regular level of attentive and you’d misconstrued it.

Eventually after a day and a half you decided that your pity party needed to end. Shuri had already rescheduled some plans for the two of you because you couldn’t get off your couch. You still had Shuri, and even though you would be moving away from her she was still in your corner and so were Sam and Steve. You decided that you truly meant what you’d said in the lab. You didn’t need Bucky’s approval. You wanted to take the next step to better yourself and if he didn’t like it that was on him. Shuri had been surprised to see you up and about the next morning after two days of being almost comatose, but there you stood. Fresh from the shower, hair pulled back and secured away from your face, zipping up the athletic jacket you’d decided would be comfortable to travel in.

Oh and travel you did.

You didn’t think you’d ever tire of staring at the ocean. Shuri had let you sit in the cockpit of the jet with Ayo while she flew. The sun hitting the water had been beautiful, but the sun setting over the vast ocean as you made your way to America had been magnificent. Overwhelming in the best way possible. Shuri teased you mercilessly as you gazed out over the water for hours on end. After touching down in LA, Shuri decided it might be fun to stay in a hotel to try and help you integrate with regular society. It had been absolutely terrifying. Your nerves constantly telling you everyone who walked near you was a potential threat. You’d clenched your fists so hard in an effort to calm yourself your nails had broken skin. Shuri had gotten you your own room so that you could work on being by yourself, and that first night you spent in America you’d dragged the couch in your room in front of the door in addition to locking and dead bolting it.

Shuri had teased you about that too after making sure you were ok sleeping on your own.

You’d spent most of the week working in the Outreach Center with Shuri. It was a very similar routine to what you’d already established in Wakanda. During the day you had spent your time helping out around the Center, moving heavy things or just being an extra set of hands for the team and their work there. The Wakandan Outreach Center’s main focus was making sure that people of colour in the surrounding areas could have a place to go and feel supported. Most of the work in the Center was community based. Making sure kids could afford school supplies and lunches or have the resources they needed to complete projects and explore the advanced technology Wakanda had to offer. Shuri’s personal focus was encouraging girls to pursue science. The Outreach Center offered multiple different scholarships geared towards encouraging minorities to pursue fields that for centuries had been unattainable. One of your favourite memories of the week had been watching Shuri sign a cheque for a young woman to go to medical school. She and her mother, who’d previously been working two jobs to support them, sobbed tears of joy and you’d been honoured to see such a special moment take place. You’d added their teary smiles to your journal the minute you’d had some spare time.

Your hours in the Outreach Centre had not only been a fantastic way to work your jet lag, but also to watch people. Having your growth accelerated meant that you’d skipped on a lot of your developmental stages, adolescence, puberty. Here, you could just sit and watch all different kinds of people walk through the doors with their own mannerisms, subconscious habits, body language, and facial expressions. You’d learned how to read the different looks people give each other, the furrowed brow of confusion and how it differed from an angry brow. Most of your people-studies had come from Shuri and Bucky, so you’d always felt comfortable understanding what they meant when they spoke to you. With new people you’d learned just how much tone and inflection changed the meaning of a phrase. It started with trying to pitch your voice up when you made dry jokes because the people here hadn’t gotten your sense of humour at first. Slouching in your seat because you found people were freaked out by your robotic posture. So many things you learned while watching coworkers, friends, and families interact in the Centre. As you studied humanity more and more you confirmed to yourself that coming to America had been what you needed. You never could’ve learned all this from within your lab.

In the evenings when Shuri was finished with her team, the two of you went out and explored the city. Los Angeles was so different to anything you’d experienced in Wakanda. The insane hustle and bustle of the streets seemingly never ended. You and Shuri had explored malls together, you tightly holding her hand while the two of you browsed American fashion. The two of you had an absolute blast and Shuri promised the next time she came to visit you’d go to a theme park together. You’d been a little too nervous to make the trek this trip and your nerves were usually shot by the end of the day. Shuri had taken you to several beautiful parks, and the two of you had even taken a day trip to the beach.

You’d been a little too nervous to actually go into the water, but you’d plopped yourself on the shore and let the waves lap at your toes for hours. Shuri thought it was hilarious that you were so easily entertained, but staring out at the endless sea and sky was soothing. It made you feel completely peaceful and when you’d gotten back to your hotel room you’d passed out almost immediately. The jet lag probably wasn’t helping but with how many hours a night you slept normally you wondered if it even mattered.

After closing the door to your hotel room you made your way down to the lobby to meet Shuri.

The plan was to go to the Outreach Centre, where Captain Rogers would be parked with the Quinjet in stealth mode. You and Shuri had wanted to keep your arrival in America quiet. No need to alert Ross to another super soldier on the compound if they didn’t need to right away. You had listened in on Shuri’s conference call with the Captain and Stark, and by their tone you could tell Stark got a sick satisfaction out of hiding something from Thaddeus Ross.

“Good morning Foxy!” Shuri called as you approached her and the concierge desk. “How did you sleep? Good? Great! We’ve got about an hour for breakfast before we head to the Centre.” She grinned, taking both your key cards and sliding them to the receptionist.

Holding out her bag, you carried your luggage together in one hand as Shuri took your other to guide on the familiar walk to the Outreach Centre. An hour for breakfast really meant fifty-five minutes of goofing off in the IHOP across the street before realising you had five minutes to be on the jet.

The two of you were seated in your favourite corner booth next to the window that let you watch all the busy people making their way through the city. Shuri chattered excitedly about her latest tech project for the Centre while you counter all the exits in the building (One to the patio, a fire exit by the bathroom, one back door through the kitchen and the main entrance by the hostess podium), despite knowing them by heart after a week of breakfasts here. Shuri had wanted to come here one morning after seeing an ad on the TV. She’d decided that she’d never been so she’d treat herself and drug you along for some chocolate chip pancakes. After that she’d gotten hooked on everything the franchise had to offer and you’d eaten more waffles than you cared to admit.

The IHOP staff, to their credit, were absolutely lovely everytime you came in. They’d quickly accepted that you would always want a corner table where you could view the door, no matter how empty the restaurant was. They’d gotten used to your strange accent, a combination of Russian and somehow African while you tried to order your food in the morning. After the first few raised brows, you’d immediately begun correcting your accent to whichever variation of English was being spoken to you. Your American accent was fairly advanced compared to the beginning of the week when you’d arrived, but some words were always spoken with a bit of East African wrapped around them. The staff had also gotten accustomed to you ordering at least two meals, occasionally a third if you were having a particularly active day.

This corner was a particularly advantageous spot because you could see every entrance to the building, not to mention you could watch the breeze change to show the arrival of a stealth craft in the parking lot across the street.

“-it’s really something special Snow, I can’t wait for you to see it! Hey, are you even listening to me?” Shuri asked, poking your knuckles with her coffee spoon and startling you out of your surveillance.

You jumped slightly, finally tearing your gaze away from the window.

“My apologies, Shuri. I think I am a little bit distracted this morning.” you answered sheepishly, heat blooming across your face.

Shuri just snickered.

“Don’t worry. I know better than to take offence. If you’re worried about travelling, don’t be. Steve’s actually a great pilot when he’s not sacrificing himself for the greater good. And Stark’s A.I isn’t half bad. You’ll get to New Jersey in no time. Plus once you’re there you’ll be begging to leave Jersey and come home to me so everything will work out.” Shuri joked. You laughed despite not quite understanding why “Jersey” would be somewhere you’d desperately want to leave.

“I guess… I am worried they will not like me. I threw Natasha into a wall, and she accepted my apology but the rest of the team does not know me at all. What if they hate me?” You whispered, fidgeting with the handle of your mug.

Shuri just smiled and reached out a hand, clasping your fingers between her own.

“Listen Snow Fox, it’s ok to be scared of things. You’ve been through so much change these last few months. It’s natural that you’re nervous, but I just want you to remember all that you’ve accomplished so far. You’ve improved your communication, your memory, even your fighting. You’re doing so well and growing so much. I’m very proud of you and even if they haven’t said it, I know the team is too.” You could hear the message behind her words; Bucky was proud of you.

It’s not that you didn’t want to believe her, but in the six days you’d been in America you hadn’t heard from any of the team personally aside from Steve. Shuri’s music device also had a communication link, so he’d messaged you briefly when you’d arrived in LA, happy that you’d gotten there safely. Aside from a few brief conversations about your room and if you had any food allergies, you’d barely heard from him.

Bucky however had not reached out since your fight.

“Thanks Shuri. It is nice to be reminded sometimes, of where I started and where I am now. I’m just nervous they won’t like me. I know I am… odd to say the least.” Shuri just laughed.

“Well who on their team isn’t? You’ve got two 100 year old super idiots, a former KGB spy, a guy who cosplays Robin Hood for a living, modern-day Icarus, and a billionaire funding all their crazy. Not to mention a witch and an android. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.” Shuri grinned. As you smiled back and squeezed her hand, your ears picked up a large change in the wind outside.

“Ah, I take it the Quinjet has arrived on top of the Centre. Alright let’s pay up and see you off then!” Shuri smiled, flagging down your server so she could settle the bill.

Much to your server’s chagrin, Shuri pressed a $100 note in his palm as a tip with a litany of gratitude towards him and the team for being so kind to the both of you this week. She then stuffed another five of them in the tip jar on your way out. When you were royalty, unlimited money was something fun to play with, you supposed.

As you made your way across the street, you clutched the straps of your duffle bag so hard your knuckles turned white.

‘You can do this. You can do this. Steve is very friendly. You are going to be fine.’ you chanted in your head over and over, as if the harder you thought about it the easier it would be to believe.

You forced a smile on your face and waved at the workers in the Center as you made your way up to the roof. Most of the Wakandans and volunteers were used to your strange behaviour so you hoped your expression looked cheerful. You dropped Shuri’s bag off at her office, adjusting your bags and checking their contents for the 3rd time that morning before making your way to the roof.

Before Shuri opened the door, you both put your sunglasses on and she grabbed your free hand.

“Ready?” she grinned.

You did your best to plaster a smile on your face and the reflection in her glasses was almost believable.

“Ready.” you nodded, before Shuri threw the door open.

Watching the Quinjet come out of stealth mode was a sight you didn’t think would ever get old. The wind whipped around you briefly as the ramp descended, and a casually dressed Steve Rogers came to greet you.

“Good morning Snow Fox!” he called, a grin across his face.

You could feel the tension draining out of your shoulders as he made his way over to greet you.

“Good morning Captain!” You chirped happily.

Steve just rolled his eyes.

“Y’know I said you can still call me Steve right? We’re friends. Friends don’t speak so formally.” he teased, heat blooming across your face.

“Yes.. I-I forget sometimes.” you stammered, wincing at how unsure you sounded.

Steve however did not let that deter him.

“Well that’s fine. We’ve got a whole flight for you to remember. Good morning Princess.” Steve said with a nod to Shuri.

Shuri just snorted in response.

“What are we not friends? I already call you Steve, you can call me Shuri.” she said as the two shook hands.

Steve just smiled.

“Well, the Quinjet is pretty fast. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so for us to get to the compound. I can take your bag while you say goodbye if you’d like?” Steve offered, a hand extended.

You nodded and passed your duffle along to him before turning to face your best friend. You weren’t sure what to say but luckily Shuri always had something to say and beat you to it.

“Well, you have my contact in your device and kimoyo beads. You can call me at any time. I’ll be about nine hours ahead of you, but if you need me I’ll answer at any time you know that. If you hate it you can call me and I’ll come get you, no questions asked ok? And I know you haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve already notified Helen Cho, the compound's chief doctor so she can give you something if you can’t sleep. Remember to update me on your training! I want to know exactly how bad ass my best friend is getting!” Shuri rambled, her hands wringing nervously in front of her stomach.

You could feel tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you threw your arms around her. Shuri inhaled sharply before wrapping her arms around your torso as tightly as she could.

“Thank you for everything my friend.” you started in Xhosa, knowing how much it meant to Shuri that you’d tried to learn as much of her native tongue as possible. “I promise to call often. I’ll send you so many pictures and videos of my training you will tire of me I promise. I want you to know that I never would’ve gotten to this point if it wasn’t for you.”

“I’m well aware.” Shuri teased, her words thick with emotion.

“Well you deserve to hear it. You deserve to hear that you are the most amazing best friend anyone could ask for, and if there is anything that I am grateful for in my existence, it is that we had the chance to meet and become friends. You have shown me kindness that I will never be able to repay, and I promise that I will do everything in my power to share that with the world. You gave me purpose, my friend. I swear to make your efforts worthwhile.” you grinned, pulling away from her you both giggled at the tears in each others eyes.

“Call me as soon as you’re settled in your room! I’m assuming they have a tour or orientation planned for you. So call me as soon as you can!” Shuri grinned, swiping at the moisture under her eyes.

You let out a watery laugh as you nodded.

“I will. See you soon, friend.” you smiled.

With one final hug you made your way over to where Steve was watching the two of you from the ramp. A soft smile graced his face as you turned to wave a Shuri one last time before boarding the jet.

“So how has your week in LA been?” Steve asked, trying to make small talk as the two of you made your way over to the cockpit.

“It has been… very busy.” you admitted, as you took off your backpack and settled into the seat behind Steve’s right side.

“Well that’s good! Lots of new experiences I’d ima- what is that?” he asked, pointing a finger at your bag.

You flushed under his sudden attention.

“Um.. .Shuri suggested I get a backpack and thought this one was funny…” you trailed off in embarrassment.

Steve just threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s great! Sam is gonna be so jealous.” He grinned and you beamed back.

“I would imagine he’ll be quite scandalised that there was no Falcon merchandise in the store.” you quipped, causing Steve to laugh even harder as he re-engaged stealth mode and began the launch sequence.

“Oh don’t even start. He’s such a drama queen sometimes.” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

You smiled as Steve launched into an anecdote about Sam wanting to create merchandise for ‘Red Wing’, his robot AI that helped them on missions. Slowly the nerves set in as you thought about the rest of the team.

“Steve?” you started, the man in question humming in acknowledgement.

“What is the rest of the team like? I’ve only met Sam, Natasha, Clint, and… Well what are the others like?” You asked, unable to ask Steve about the one member of the team you were truly curious about.

“Well, Wanda isn’t that far off from you in age. I think you’re biologically around the same. Vision… Vision actually reminds me a lot of you. He’s an android so while he’s very intelligent, we all know there are some “human” things that escape him sometimes. He’s very polite though and head over heels for Wanda. The two of them are actually very sweet together. Burce, our team's previous resident doctor, is actually off the grid right now. We haven’t seen or heard from him in about two years. I’m sure you’ve seen the files on the Hulk?” Steve turned to ask and you nodded.

“Right, well Bruce used to have a really hard time controlling him. After Ultron, he took off. We hope that he’s doing better and that he’ll return someday… but after that there’s Tony Stark, Iron Man.” you winced.

“Are you sure it’ll be ok with him for me to come live with you all?” you asked in a small voice.

Steve just shook his head.

“You don’t have to worry about Tony. I made sure he saw your progress reports with Shuri before you even left Wakanda. Tony is very critical, but he’s not as much of an asshole as he makes himself out to be. He knows that you were successfully deprogrammed by Shuri and that you’re making a lot of progress, but not as much as you’d like. If he does anything that makes you really uncomfortable, if anyone on the team does, I want you to know you can come tell me. Not just as your Captain, but as your friend. We��re all here for you Snow Fox.” Steve turned to smile warmly at you and you offered a small smile back.

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before we touch down at the compound. Any other questions before we land?” Steve asked.

You just shook your head.

“No, I am alright. I am mostly just nervous. I… I just really want to make a good impression I guess.” you bit out, picking at the skin around your nails since Shuri had worked so painstakingly last night to paint them to perfection for your first day with the Avengers.

Steve just smiled and reached a hand behind himself to pat your knee.

“Look, I promise that everyone will be thrilled to meet you. Sam’s been compiling movies for us to watch, Nat and Wanda are just happy there’s going to be another girl around the compound, and Tony might be a hard ass but I know once he meets you he’s gonna love you.”

You took in a deep breath, rubbing your knee where you could still feel the warmth from Steve’s hand.

“And Bucky?” you asked nervously. You hadn’t had the courage to bring him up until now.

Steve inhaled sharply, taking a moment to consider his next words carefully.

“Bucky is… complicated. I know you guys had a fight before we left. He wouldn’t tell me what about, but he’s requested some solo missions to hunt down a few Hydra stragglers so he’s not actually home at the compound right now. Do you.. If you want I mean- do you wanna talk about it at all?” Steve asked, his hand coming up to awkwardly scratch at his neck.

You huffed and smiled to yourself.

“Not at all, but thank you for offering.”

“Look I know it isn’t my place, but he really does care. Bucky has always been a “Mother Hen” if you will, he’s always been a protector. He had me, and a baby sister back before the war, and I’m sure he told you all the trouble we got ourselves into back then. He’s always been the man to protect his family, even if he maybe says some dumb stuff sometimes. I don’t know the details of your fight and I won’t push it if it makes you uncomfortable, but I do know that Bucky cares about you more than I’ve seen him care about something in a long time and I hope that when he gets back the two of you can work things out.” Steve turned again, offering you a hesitant smile.

You did your best to return it as you looked out the window of the jet.

“So, what kind of music have you been listening to this week?” Steve asked lightly and you sighed, grateful for the change in subject.

Steve reached a cord over to you and you beamed, recognizing the correct input to connect to your music device. Steve caught your smile and beamed right back as you went through your recently played songs.

“Well, Shuri and I have been listening to a new artist this week, his name is Stevie Wonder.”

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stranger-marauders · 2 years

Text

repaired

fifteen: russian interrogation

chapter summary: Dustin, Kate, and Erica plan to rescue Steve and Robin from the Russians.

chapter warnings: language, canon-typical violence, relationship issues

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | masterlist

STEVE THOUGHT THE days where he got the shit beaten out of him were over. He realized, as he got the shit beaten out of him once again, this time by a Russian guard, that they were far from being over.

He groaned as one of the Russian guards in the room punched him in the face again. He spat more blood on the floor. "That one stung."

"Who do you work for?"

"For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy!" he shouted. "Scoops Ahoy..." He groaned again as the same guard punched him in the chest and he wheezed for air—he felt like he was going to die. "What the hell! Look at my outfit! You think I just wear this! Think I'm a spy in a sailor's uniform!"

The guard punched him again, cutting off his rambling, and he groaned in pain in response.

"How did you get in?"

"I already told you. I told you before." As he spoke, he struggled to breathe, gasping for air. "My delivery didn't come, and my friends and I, we thought that it was left at the loading dock, so we went in the room, and then it... turned into an elevator, and then... and then we dropped and then, next thing we know, I open my eyes, and-and we're in this... wonderful facility." He only hoped that his compliment to the establishment would prevent him from being punched again. "But I swear to God, nobody knows about us, nobody saw us. You could just let us go, all right? And I'm not gonna tell anybody about this, okay? Shit happens, life goes on. And, uh... ice-ice cream. Ice cream, okay? You guys know what ice cream is. Everybody loves ice cream. I don't know if you have Russian ice cream or if that's considered gelato, I don't know what's what, but whatever you guys want, seriously. USS Butterscotch, I mean, you gotta try it. It is out of this world, I'm telling ya!"

Steve only stared in fear as the two soldiers laughed at him. He laughed nervously with them, hoping they thought he was funny enough to not get punched again. Dustin and Kate had been right in saying that Jonathan and Billy had both beaten the shit out of him, but at least he could try to fight back.

He only hoped that Kate and the kids had gotten out okay, or at least they were close to it. They were his and Robin's only chance at survival, more specifically Kate. He almost wished he wouldn't have called Robin with him, that it would've just been him holding that door, but he knew that the group wouldn't have made it without Robin staying behind. At least Kate had made it out with the kids: one of them had to. Besides, Kate had more resources than all of them combined (of course, she realistically only had one source, and that one source was just her father, but he had more resources than everyone in Hawkins, and that had to count for something).

"I like this guy!" the main guard said, the one who'd been asking questions instead of punching him. "USS... Butterscotch."

Once they'd both stopped laughing, the guards had gotten closer to Steve's face, asking him the same question again. "Who do you work for?"

"Oh, come on. No, no! No, seriously—" This time, however, when the guard had punched him, it had knocked Steve out cold. He had been unconscious for long enough for the guards to drag him into another room. Robin had also been taken to the same room, but Robin was still conscious, wasn't covered in her own blood.

"Get your hands off of me!" she shouted as they threw her on the floor next to Steve. Once she'd noticed the boy knocked out on the floor, she tried anything to wake him up. He almost seemed... dead. "Hey, Steve? Steve? Steve! She kept calling his name until the main guard had come into the room. "What did you do to him? What did you do!"

The man slapped her in the face, sending her back to the ground. The man mumbled something in Russian, and the guards started to pull her and Steve into chairs, tying them together back-to-back. "Don't touch me! Steve, wake up. Steve? What did you do!"

The guard picked up Steve's low-hanging head to find his face covered in blood, his eye swollen. He only clicked his tongue.

"Don't touch him."

"I think your friend needs a doctor," he said.

Robin only stared at the man in disgust.

"Good thing... we have the very best."

The soldiers only laughed in response, and Robin spit on his face. Once he'd wiped it, he stared threateningly at her. "You're going to regret that, suka."

When they'd started to leave, Robin only yelled at them. "Bastards. Let us outta here! Bastards! Let us out! Let us out!"

She didn't stop when they'd left the room, continuing to call as she hoped that her and Steve would be able to leave the room again.

When Kate, Dustin, and Erica seemed to have reached the end of the vent, they peeked their heads out of the hole in the ground, finding that they'd come to an empty room with the green acid in large tanks.

Dustin had turned his head, finding something they could use for their rescue mission almost immediately: a red cart. "Jackpot."

"Do you even know how to drive?" Erica asked.

"How hard can it be? Max did it."

"Hell no, I'm not going through that again. I'm driving," Kate said, giving him a pointed look.

"No, you need to be on lookout," Dustin said. "If anything happens, you're the only one with any type of combat training."

"With what, exactly? I don't see any guns or... or anything."

"We'll find one."

Kate shook her head. "I shouldn't have wasted the damn bullets on those guards. I... I wasn't even thinking about getting more bullets, I just thought of the keycard. I mean, where are we even gonna find ammo?"

"We'll find something, okay? Besides, I'm pretty sure you could take out a guard, too. If he can do it—"

"Okay, just because Hopper is my dad doesn't mean I'm this, like, badass or anything," Kate said, scoffing. "I'm not Rambo."

"I mean, you're better than either of us," Dustin replied.

Kate pressed her lips together, eventually caving with a sigh. He wasn't wrong about that.

Before Dustin could say anything else, he looked down into the cart. "Aw, come on."

"What?"

"The keys are gone."

She gave him a confused look. "You seriously thought that they would just leave the keys in there?"

"There's gotta be a spare."

Kate looked away from Dustin as he searched for a spare set of keys to the cart, letting her eyes wander until she found Erica stopped in front of a giant cage.

"Hey, how big did you say that Demogorgon was?"

"Big," Kate said, staring at the cage with wide eyes. "About nine feet or so."

"Why?" Dustin asked, not looking up.

The cage was much too big for a human. She didn't want to think about it, never mind say it—she hadn't explored the thought anymore before Dustin had found the keys. "Found 'em."

Erica, however, was nowhere in sight.

"Erica?"

She came up behind them, holding a weapon that had a glowing blue tip in hand. Both of them jumped as it seemed to pulse.

"What the hell is that!" Dustin shouted.

"A deadly weapon," Erica explained. "Could be useful."

"For what?"

"What do you think?" Erica asked. "Taking down Commies, saving your friends."

Kate took the weapon from Erica, investigating it as Dustin said, "Thought you were more realistic than that, nerd."

"This'll do," Kate said simply, nodding once as she walked off with Erica to get into the cart.

"We don't even know where they are, and even if we did, there are a million guards up there with weapons way deadlier than that. The best thing we can do for them is to get out of here and find help," Dustin said before turning to Kate. "Easy with that."

She hadn't even realized she'd carelessly pointed it in his direction: if her father were there, he would have already yelled at her for being careless with such a weapon.

"Our chance of surviving, and theirs, rises substantially. Just trust me on this. Both of you. Please?"

Neither of them, even if they thought differently, had any choice to do otherwise as the boy drove off in the cart.

Robin had no idea how long she'd been calling for help, but it had felt like forever. After a while of her calling, Steve had finally woken up again.

"Hey, would you stop yelling...?"

"Steve! Oh my God!" Robin exclaimed. "Steve. A-Are you okay?"

His head was still drooped down, his voice groggy. "My ears are ringing, and I can't really breathe, my eye feels like it's about to pop out of my skull, but, you know, apart from that, I'm doing pretty good."

"Well, the good news is that they're calling you a doctor," Robin said. She chucked—she could only imagine what was going to happen with that.

Steve looked around. "Is this his place work? I love the vibe. Charming."

Robin chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it. So, okay, do you see that table over there to your right." He looked to his left. "No, your other right."

"Oh," Steve said, turning to where Robin was looking.

"Yeah, okay. And do you see those scissors?"

"Uh-huh," he said softly.

"Yeah, well, I think that if we move at the same time, we could get over there, and then maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap."

"And I could cut the binds."

"Yeah, and we could get out of here," Robin said hopefully.

"Gotcha. Okay, yeah, we can do that. Those morons. They left scissors in here?"

"Yeah, morons," Robin said, laughing.

"Total morons."

"Okay, so, on the count of three, we're gonna hop."

Steve nodded. "Okay, good, hop on three. I gotcha."

"All right. One, two, three."

They moved closer to the table.

"Okay, that worked," Robin said. "All right. Uh, let's try again."

"Right."

The two counted down together: "One, two, three."

They got even closer to the table.

"Holy shit, this is gonna work!"

"We're close. Ready?"

The two counted down together one last time: "One, two, three."

Instead of moving even closer to the table, though, they both landed on the floor, hitting their heads on the cold tile.

Steve immediately realized that his headache had been manageable before, because the second his head banged against the tile, the pain had doubled from the impact. He heard something from Robin, something that sounded like crying. "It's okay, it's okay. Don't cry. Robin." Whenever he could hear her more clearly, whenever the ringing had reduced, he realized she wasn't crying—she was giggling. "Are you laughing?"

"Yeah," she said, barely able to get out a word.

"Jesus...," he murmured.

"I'm sorry!" she said, still laughing. "I'm so sorry. It's just... I can't believe... I'm gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington. It's just too trippy, man."

"We're not gonna die," Steve replied. He tried to convince himself that this wouldn't be the end for them. He didn't even want to imagine it—not only would he be dying in that uniform, but he would never see Kate again. "We're gonna get out of here, okay? Just—You gotta let me think for a second."

"Do you remember, um... Mrs. Click's sophomore history class?"

"What?"

"Mrs. Clickity-Clackity," she said. "That's what us band dweebs called her."

Steve sighed. He had no idea what she was talking about or why she was bringing it up now of all times, especially when all he wanted to do was to try to come up with a plan to get out of there.

"It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast. Bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you two days a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mister Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself. Do you even remember me from that class?"

Steve couldn't even begin to answer the question.

He remembered that class vividly the more he thought about it. Steve wasn't late because he had arrived late to school, but because he'd been screwing girls in the bathroom before first period (that had been the start to his royal highness—while he had only been a sophomore, girls still wanted him because of his spot on the basketball and swim teams). Steve and Kate were never late to school; he knew his girl better than that. She never would have allowed them to be late under any circumstances, especially not every day. He even remembered that Kate wasn't in that class because the girl had decided to take the sophomore history class her freshman year, leaving him alone in the sophomore class while she took the junior one when they were sophomores. Kate was ahead in a lot of her classes, which was why she ended up being valedictorian. He figured Robin must've done the same thing as her: she was a rising senior.

"Of course you don't," she said, almost inaudible. "You were a real asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know," he replied.

"But it didn't even matter. It didn't matter that you were an ass. I was still... obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just wanna be popular, accepted... normal."

"If it makes you feel any better, having all those things isn't all that great," Steve replied. "Seriously." He sighed. "I mean, really. Kate and I... we didn't talk for a long time because of how I acted back then."

"Oh yeah? I remember that," Robin said, overexaggerating the next part. "That was the talk of Hawkins High." Whenever they'd both laughed once or twice, Robin shook her head. "Seriously though, even her. I remember anyone would look at her, but like, even then, she was still looking at you. You had it all, Harrington, and... and that was something I wanted for a long time. Being normal like that sounds great."

"Yeah," Steve replied, chuckling. "It just baffles me. Everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about, it's all just—" he stopped to chuckle again— "bullshit. But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?"

"I hope so," Robin said. "I feel like my whole life has been... one big error."

Steve chuckled. He knew someone else who would agree with her. "Yep."

"At least it can't get any more messed up than this."

"Kate, she... she's gonna fix this. She's gonna get help, okay?"

Robin chuckled. "If they make it out. Did you see her face?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I did."

Of course Steve had seen her face. Every time he thought about her now, all he could see was the horror of her abandoning him spreading her face. He couldn't see her smile, hear her laugh, see her happy. With everything that had happened that day, in between the fight and the getting beaten senseless, he couldn't see her at all. Not the way he wanted to. Her look of horror was etched into his mind. He couldn't let that be the last time he saw her. He wouldn't let it be.

"So last night, you guys... the argument you had, was it really... as bad as it sounded?"

He hesitated. "You heard all of that?"

"Uh, yeah," Robin said, almost not believing him. "You were both very loud and upset. I'm surprised the children didn't wake up."

Steve sighed. "Yeah, I'm... I'm sorry about that, okay? I just... It was stupid. We were talking about her going away, and she was upset she was leaving. I mean, why is she upset? She's the one leaving. She could've picked somewhere way closer and it wouldn't be a problem."

Robin stifled a laugh. "You're such a dingus sometimes."

He thought he'd misheard her. "What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Robin asked. "She's upset because she's leaving you, dingus. She's obviously horrified something's going to happen when she leaves. I don't really think I can blame her. With everything you guys have obviously gone through, it... it makes sense." She paused. "You're allowed to be upset, too, though. She could've picked something closer, and it sucks she didn't, especially for you and her family. Maybe if you guys, I don't know, talked about it, this wouldn't have happened." She paused. "I mean, I think you could still fix it."

He grimaced. "Kate and I talk—"

"I've been around you guys all summer. There hasn't been one time before today that you guys weren't still in the honeymoon phase. It's because you guys literally do not talk about anything that matters, and before you ask, no, I'm not talking the world ending once a year, I mean serious shit. Serious relationship talk, I mean. Things like going away, like what the future looks like for you both. I know it's hard, Steve, but you have to try."

Even if he didn't talk about it, Steve thought about their future a lot. He'd started thinking about it much more now that they were graduated, since he actually had to think about adult things like getting a job, eventually moving out, turning twenty in a little over a year. He didn't bring it up to Kate just because she hadn't ever brought it up, what the future looked like.

He knew he wanted to marry her. If he knew the thought wouldn't freak her out right now, he would've talked to her dad about it, asked him if he was allowed to marry her. Kate Hopper was the real deal for him, and he didn't see what was the point in waiting for something he knew was going to happen. He wanted to marry her, have kids with her, spend the rest of his life with her. If he couldn't have that, then he didn't want anything at all.

He wasn't going to tell Robin that, though.

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, that'd be easy if she didn't shut me out all the time."

"Don't let her," Robin countered. "I know that's scary, and trust me, I know she's absolutely horrifying to talk to sometimes, but she's just a person. Even if she doesn't seem like it, she has emotions. She wouldn't care about you so much if she didn't, and I know she cares a lot." Whenever he didn't say anything, she sighed. "Just... talk to her for my sake? You being mopey is annoying."

Before Steve could reply, the door had opened again, and a few Russian guards made their way over to the pair on the floor. The main guard chuckled, standing where the two could see them. "Where were you two going?"

A couple of Russian guards sat the two back upright in the chair as a man in the corner, who surprisingly looked even eviler and more intimidating than the guards, prepared something for them.

The main guard got into Steve's face as he spoke. "Try telling the truth this time, yes? It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful."

As the doctor approached Steve with a mechanism of some type filled with a blue liquid, his heart started to race as he rambled. "Wait a second. Wait. Hold on. Okay! Wait, wait, wait! What is that thing!"

"It will help you talk," the doctor replied.

As the doctor tilted Steve's head back, the boy continued shouting. "Did you even clean that thing!" He only screamed as the needle went into his skin, the blue liquid making its way into his bloodstream.

next chapter

taglist:

@thatsonezesty13 @cece5298 @thepowerstoner @alovelytardis @coolchick333 @stand-tall-pineapple @littlet-holmes @guichu @cinderellacauseshebroke @blackbirddaredevil23 @mads-weasley @ilovemarauders @pearlstiare @liableperfections @khaylin27 @girlwiththerubyslippers @cyarikaaa

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x hopper!reader #stranger things 3 #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington series #steve harrington stranger things

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beardedmrbean · 1 year

Text

A Russian lawmaker and alleged Vladimir Putin loyalist was left in a coma after suffering a series of mysterious head injuries in a parliament building, RadarOnline.com has learned.

71-year-old Anatoly Karpov was hospitalized late Saturday night after allegedly “suffering a fall.” He now reportedly resides in the neurology ward of a prestigious Moscow medical institution as his “serious” condition is monitored 24/7.

According to Daily Mail, Karpov was a “Putin ultra-loyalist” before criticizing the Russian leader over his invasion of Ukraine. At one point during the invasion, Karpov reportedly called upon Putin to end the war against Ukraine “so that peaceful people will stop dying.”

“I wish [the war] would end sooner, so that peaceful people would stop dying,” he said earlier this year. “In the end ordinary people are the victims. Ordinary people fight, politicians and generals decide, and ordinary people fight, civilians die.”

“I am not even talking about soldiers and officers,” he continued. “No, I could not imagine at all that Russians and Ukrainians would go to war. I have many friends in Ukraine.”

Following the Russian lawmaker’s mysterious incident, a number of his associates spoke out and provided contradicting accounts about what happened to Karpov.

Andrey Kovalev, who serves as the head of the All-Russian Movement of Entrepreneurs, claimed Karpov was attacked and violently assaulted while leaving Moscow's State Duma building.

Kovalev also reported Karpov sustained a series of neck fractures and head injuries as a result of the assault made by “unknown assailants” – although others, such as his close friend Kirill Zangalis, called those claims “fake news.”

Karpov’s daughter also rejected Kovalev’s allegations and suggested his injuries were a result of a “domestic incident” or an “unfortunate fall.”

As RadarOnline.com previously reported, Karpov is just the latest Putin ally to end up dead or seriously injured following Putin’s invasion of Ukraine in February.

#nunyas news #what a strange and unexplainable thing

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dodger-chan · 10 months

Note

⭐star⭐ (for the ask game :)

Okay, you like the Rocky Horror series, so enjoy the entire roof scene with full author commentary. It's the last scene of the second (and currently last, but hopefully not for too long) story, so anyone who wants the commentary should read both stories first.

Under a cut because it's long.

Steve hadn’t locked himself out. He wasn’t on the walkie anymore, either. It sat next to him while he stared out vaguely in the direction of Hawkins.

“Everything alright?” she asked. She sat down next to him, at an angle so she could see his face; nudged his thigh with her foot.

“Not exactly.”

“Shit, it’s not a code red, is it?”

“I wish,” he muttered with a soft laugh. Immediately after, he paled. “No, fuck, I don’t. I really, really don’t.”

The Upside Down is unreal in a lot of ways, and I do think that makes it less scary than everyday problems sometimes. Would Steve prefer being tortured by Russians or nearly being eaten by a monster to revelations about his sexuality? No, but he does have to think about it.

“Everyone’s okay?”

“Yeah, the kids are fine.” Steve smiled. “Lucas even took his walkie into Erica’s room so she could call me overprotective and paranoid personally.”

“So, something else, then?” Steve nodded. “You want to tell me, or?”

Steve nodded again.

Some things were too hard to say to someone who can see you. They couldn’t sit back-to-back; too many bad memories. Instead, Robin climbed into Steve’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her torso and pressed his cheek against her shoulder.

Eye contact is very scary. Steve and Robin do a lot of not looking at each other for serious conversations.

“I figured out why I like this movie,” he said, surprising Robin. It had been hours since Eddie asked the question; Robin had assumed Steve had moved on.

Steve is not particularly introspective, and that's a little bit on purpose. He's been watching Rocky Horror almost every day for a couple of months, it is his favorite movie, and Eddie being very pushy in the car ride is the first time he's really thought to wonder what about the movie appeals to him.

She waited for him to elaborate. He didn't, so she asked, "Why?"

Getting Steve to actually say words is like pulling teeth.

"I'm jealous of Brad." He spoke the words into her neck.

It made a kind of sense. Steve and Brad had a lot in common. They were both ordinary guys, trying to live ordinary lives until they'd found themselves in a horror movie.

This series exists because as soon as I started thinking about the Stranger Things teens having any interaction with Rocky Horror, I just knew Steve would identify with Brad. And while I think every one of our main characters would have fun watching the movie, and going to see it with a live cast, I think it would be more meaningful to Steve. Seeing Brad be in love with Janet but enjoy sex with Frank, and realizing finding a guy hot doesn't mean Nancy was right to call his love for her bullshit.

Steve's movie featured grotesque monsters and multiple traumatic brain injuries. And torture. Robin could not forget the torture, even if Steve preferred to brush it off.

Steve and the "it's not happening now so I don't have to think about it" method of coping.

Brad's monster looked like a human and the only physical harm he suffered was some minor cannibalism and briefly being turned into a statue. Plenty of reasons to be jealous.

“A cross dressing alien does seem a lot more fun than a giant spider built out of decaying human flesh.”

“Oh, for sure,” he agreed.

Look, Frank is kinda evil and definitely a murderer, but not nearly as threatening or scary as the Upside Down.

Robin didn't think that was all Steve meant.

Steve had chosen to step into his horror movie three years ago. Had chosen to stay in it when Dustin asked for his help last fall and again last summer. Had chosen to charge at an armed Russian soldier to give Erica and Dustin time to escape. Even though he’d told Robin that it never felt like a choice at the time, it always was.

Part of not being an introspective guy: Steve doesn't think about putting himself between other people and danger. But Robin's right; he is making a choice.

From the moment he rings the castle doorbell, Brad stops making decisions. The film mostly just happens to Brad.

Frank mostly just happens to Brad.

So, when Frank visits Janet and later Brad in Rocky Horror, she comes to them disguised as their fiance(e). And when they each realize who they're in bed with and call for help, Frank stops them by warning them how it would look ("Do you want her to see you like this?") They are coerced into having sex with Frank and I think that's actually an important point for Steve.

Most of the time, when Robin had found their copy of Rocky Horror stopped mid movie, she’d just rewound it. A few times, though, she’d been curious and pressed play. And every time she’d seen the silhouette of Frank, kissing his way down an unprotesting Brad.

Brad gets to have sex with Frank but never has to admit he wants to have sex with Frank. And that's where the jealousy comes into play.

And Robin, having noticed what scene Steve seemed to be very interested in watching over and over again, wasn't completely blindsided by what Steve told her.

“Stevie,” she reached down and grabbed his hand. “I know words aren’t your thing and I do know what you’re saying so if you want me to let you off the hook here, I will. But I promise you it gets easier to think about once you give it a name.”

I love reading fics where Robin points out to Steve that he does, in fact, like guys. It's funny. But I also really want her to be understanding of Steve's limits. She's aware that Steve is figuring himself out, and forcing a label on him that might not fit right or he's not ready to hear isn't going to do him any good.

“I think,” he started, then paused. "No," he corrected himself. “I’m kinda gay, Rob.”

Period/Steve appropriate vocabulary. The non-offensive word Steve would most likely know to describe himself would have been gay, even though he's sure he still likes girls.

“That’s good. Great.” The exact parameters of what he meant by ‘kinda’ could be worked out later. “It’s so much less scary once you say it.”

I feel like Robin is a character who chaffs against the constraints of the closet. She wants other people to know who she is, and having words helps with that.

“No. It’s less scary because my best friend is right here with me.” She gently elbowed him in the stomach. If he got sappy now, she might tear up and then Mark might think she’d gone up on the roof to panic-cry.

Steve having Robin is pretty essential to his self-acceptance. The great driving force of Steve Harrington is that he wants to be loved. But in the dominant cultural message of the 80s, queerness is inherently unlovable. Him loving Robin, imperfectly but infinitely, is how he learned that wasn't true. He had to accept Robin before he could even consider accepting himself.

Robin had maybe been a little panicked when she’d left the kitchen, but she certainly wouldn’t have cried about it. She’d just needed a little space and the presence of her best friend.

Steve is not the only one to benefit from their friendship. Unconditional support is very important to her.

She squirmed around on Steve’s lap until they could look at each other again.

“So, I was thinking, actually, that when we get back I want to come out to my parents. And I think it would really help if you were there.”

Fortunately, in this universe, they won't assume she's pregnant.

“Yeah. If that’s what you want.”

“I do. That way if it all goes wrong at least the food will be edible,” she joked. Steve frowned, obviously more concerned about the possibility than she was. “It won’t go wrong. I was talking to Mark before I came up, and, well, it won’t go wrong. I just want you to be there anyway.”

I love the idea of Steve cooking for the Buckleys. Them being bad cooks is a Rebel Robin thing, but I like the thought of Steve getting assigned household chores because he's part of their family now. Via marriage or adoption, Steve is their son.

“Always.” Steve stood, picking her up as he rose and holding her weight until her feet swung to the ground. “Hopefully your parents won’t be too upset to have me over again without Eddie.”

They had been rather insistent that the next time Steve came by for dinner he should bring Eddie along. It was kind of an odd request and -

“Oh.” A thought struck Robin as she and Steve walked hand in hand to the stairwell.

Steve and Robin touch a lot. It doesn't always make the narration, because they don't think about it, any more than they think about how they do their mind reading trick (reading subtle cues that other people would miss or misinterpret).

“What?”

“I'm pretty sure my parents think Eddie is your boyfriend.”

They do. It's Steve's turn to say, "not my boyfriend" to Robin's parents. Perhaps they will believe him if claims it's an unrequited crush?

#ask game

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reasoningdaily · 1 year

Text

You could upload dead loved ones to your computer by end of year

You may soon be able to catch up with friends and relatives who have passed away — on your computer.

Dr. Pratik Desai, a Silicon Valley computer scientist who has founded multiple Artificial Intelligence platforms, boldly predicts that a human being’s “consciousness” could be uploaded onto digital devices by the end of the year.

“Start regularly recording your parents, elders and loved ones,” he urged Friday in a Twitter thread that’s since racked up more 5.7 million views and tens of thousands of responses.

“With enough transcript data, new voice synthesis and video models, there is a 100% chance that they will live with you forever after leaving physical body,” Desai continued. “This should be even possible by end of the year.”

Uploading a person’s consciousness would involve saving videos, voice recordings, documents and photos of the person you wish to reimagine to your computer. These compiled assets would then be uploaded into an AI system that would learn as much as it could about the deceased individual.

The ultimate goal: for users to create an avatar resembling their loved one before he or she passed — so this person could, in a sense, live forever on your screen.

Amid rising concerns about the growing global dominance of AI — marked by everything from “destructive” bot behavior to obsolete jobs to false criminal accusations — one company called Somnium Space is offering an AI-based “live forever” mode . “Start regularly recording your parents, elders and loved ones,” he urged on Twitter. Dr. Pratik Desai predicts that a person’s consciousness could be uploaded onto a computer by the end of the year.

“Literally, if I die — and I have this data collected — people can come or my kids, they can come in, and they can have a conversation with my avatar, with my movements, with my voice,” founder and CEO Artur Sychov told Vice.

He added, “You will meet the person. And you would maybe for the first 10 minutes while talking to that person, you would not know that it’s actually AI. That’s the goal.”

Another company, Deepbrain, has developed a program called “Re;memory” that allows users the opportunity to walk down a memorial hall dedicated to a late loved one and even interact with the person “through an actual conversation.”

Meanwhile, similar freakishly futuristic technology is already being used for celebrities.

Many believe that AI advancements — including ChatGPT — can be beneficial to humanity. However, scientists have warned that rogue AI “could kill everyone

Deepfakes use AI to manipulate videos and replace the genuine likeness of one person with an impossible-to-detect imitation, often to alarming effect. Many believe that AI advancements — including ChatGPT — can be beneficial to humanity. However, scientists have warned that rogue AI “could kill everyon,. Getty Images

One AI platform created a “digital twin” of Bruce Willis — who has been diagnosed with aphasia, a brain disorder that affects his ability to communicate — to allow the actor’s likeness to appear on-screen despite his retirement from acting.

The “Die Hard” actor’s deepfake has already made its debut, in an August 2021 commercial for MegaFon, a Russian telecommunications company, which “grafted” his face onto Konstantin Solovyov for a commercial for MegaFon.

The Willis estate has the final say on what’s created with his likeness and reportedly licensed the rights to use his face in the ad campaign.

In Entertainment Weekly’s “Around the Table” video series last December, award-winning actresses Jean Smart and Margot Robbie spoke about their concerns around potentially pornographic deepfakes.

“After you’re dead, they’ll go, ‘Oh, let’s put Margot Robbie in that movie,’ a hundred years from now, having her doing God knows what. And your estate will have to sue them. It’ll be horrible, Margot,” Smart, 71, said.

At the other end of the intellectual spectrum, many still argue that AI advancements — including ChatGPT — can be beneficial to humanity.

However, a group of tech experts — including Elon Musk — is urging a six-month pause in the training of advanced AI models, arguing the systems could have “profound risks to society and humanity.”

The CEO of Twitter and Tesla joined more than 1,000 experts in signing an open letter organized by the nonprofit Future of Life Institute, which is primarily funded by the Musk Foundation, the billionaire’s charitable grant organization.

The letter calls for an industrywide pause until proper safety protocols have been developed and vetted by independent experts — and details potential risks that advanced AI could poses if not placed under proper oversight.

Risks include the spread of “propaganda and untruth,” job losses, the development of “nonhuman minds that might eventually outnumber, outsmart, obsolete and replace us” and the risk of “loss of control of our civilization.”

#You could upload dead loved ones to your computer by end of year #ai and death

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #no minors #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut fic #spencer reid x fem reader #sub spencer reid #derailed #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #no minors please

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: pure fluff and a happy ending as promised :)

A/N: the final chapter 😭❤️ see my full note at the end

Masterlist

Chapter 37

“What’s your location? Over,” the walkie talkie on the kitchen counter crackled.

“Dino chicken nuggets are coming out of the oven as we speak. Over,” you replied back.

“Roger that. Over and out,” Jo stated and the walkie talkie went back to static.

Spencer got them as a gift for her and she would constantly have one with her, giving the other to someone before leaving the room so they could talk through it.

You headed out to the back porch and down the steps into the yard with a big plate of nuggets and dipping sauces as well as some juice boxes and applesauce for the twins.

“Coast is clear. Do you copy? Over,” you spoke into the walkie talkie.

“Affirmative. Bring ‘em up,” Jo exited the main part of the treehouse and you saw her on its little porch.

Spencer had built her a little pulley system with a basket and rope so she could lower or raise items up into the treehouse instead of carrying them up the ladder.

You placed the food and drinks inside and then made your way up the wooden ladder.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Jo smiled as she bit into a nugget.

“No problem, Cadet Jo,” you ruffled her hair up a little as she giggled.

You ducked to get through the door of the treehouse and sat down on a cushion on the floor next to Spencer who had both the twins in his lap.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you clipped the twins’ bibs on.

“Cars!” Jo cheered.

“I wanted to watch a subtitled Russian film but I was ‘boo’ed when I made that suggestion,” Spencer grinned as he grabbed the spoon to start feeding the babies.

“Hm I wonder why,” you teased.

Once Jo got the movie playing on the laptop, she took a seat in your lap with the plate of nuggets and took turns eating one, then handing one to you, then Spencer.

Once all the kids were fast asleep in your laps and the credits were rolling, you turned to Spencer.

“You and Derek really did a good job building this treehouse, love,” you complimented him.

“Anything for my family,” he smiled, then leaned over to kiss you.

It was the morning of Jo’s 8th birthday party. You wanted to make it extra special in light of what happened at her 7th birthday party.

Spencer kept reminding you that it wasn’t your fault a psychopath shot you and sent you to the hospital but you just wanted to give Jo the party she deserves.

You rented a bouncy house and an inflatable water slide. Spencer was doing a magic show and Penelope was doing face paintings. You baked a huge stegosaurus-shaped cake from scratch. No kid would be bored and Jo would have an amazing time.

You settled for having it in your backyard instead of the park now that you had plenty of room. The whole team came over earlier to help set up.

Penelope got all her paints organized on the porch table as Spencer set up his mini stage for the performance. Hotch and Derek filled the slide with water while you and Emily carefully brought the massive cake to the table outside.

Jo came running outside already in her swimsuit, eager to get the first splash in the water slide.

“You have to come with me, Uncle Derek,” she insisted.

“Jo, I don’t have my swimsuit on,” he replied.

“You’re in athletic shorts. They’ll dry quick,” Savannah, his girlfriend, yelled from where she was setting up the food table.

Derek looked to Hotch to help him out. Hotch pointed back to Jo who was giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he groaned, taking off his shirt which elicited a holler from Penelope.

Jo made her way up the steps with Derek right behind her.

Jo sat down in Derek’s lap and then turned around to face him.

“Okay, ready?” she asked him.

Derek nodded and then pushed off, sending them both down the slippery slide.

“Weee!” Jo exclaimed as they slid down.

“Again,” she demanded, “Where’s Daddy?”

“He went to put his swimsuit on, Baby J, so he can go with you,” you told her as you set Ollie down next to Ophelia in the playpen outside.

“Coming, Princess!” Spencer ran outside and scooped the little girl up in his arms as he trekked up the steps.

“How about we go down like a penguin this time?” he suggested.

Jo nodded enthusiastically as Spencer got onto his belly and Jo laid on top of him and wrapped her hands around his neck.

“1…2…3!” Spencer pushed off and they raced down the slide again, Jo giggling the whole time.

“Again!” Jo said.

“I think we are going to have to buy one of these, love,” Spencer called over to you, laughing and running up the stairs right behind Jo again.

“Please welcome my lovely assistant to the stage,” Spencer spoke in his magician tuxedo.

You waved as the audience clapped. You were wearing a sparkly red sequin dress to compliment Spencer’s bow tie.

“I am going to make my assistant…disappear,” he stated.

The kids in the audience gasped.

Spencer took your hand and guided you to the big black box in the center of the stage.

“Just like we practiced,” he whispered to you as you stepped inside.

You winked and he kissed your hand as he let go and closed the door.

Spencer knocked on the door a few times and wiggled his hands for some showmanship.

“Okay, on the count of 3. We’re all going to yell ‘Abracadabra’,” Spencer explained, “1…2…3!”

“Abracadabra!” all the kids yelled.

Spencer set off a small smoke bomb and quickly opened the door, revealing an empty box.

The kids all screamed in wonder.

“Bring Mommy back!” Jo yelled.

You had to stifle your laughter from behind the fake wall in the box you were hiding behind.

“Your wish is my command, Princess,” Spencer closed the door again.

“To reverse the spell, we need to say the exact same word,” Spencer stated.

“Abracadabra!” the kids yelled once again.

This time, you opened the door and the kids clapped enthusiastically.

“For this next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience,” Spencer smiled.

All the kids’ hands shot up in the air.

“I’m going to have to go with the wonderful birthday girl right in the front row,” you took Jo’s hand and escorted her up onto the stage.

“Jo, I need you to pick a card, any card. Show the audience but not me,” Spencer fanned the cards out in his hands and closed his eyes.

Jo picked the ace of hearts and showed the audience.

“Now, put it back in the pile,” he said.

“Alright,” Spencer opened his eyes and began to shuffle the cards, “Is this your card?” he asked, holding the eight of spades.

“No, Daddy. Try again,” Jo said.

“Is this it?” he questioned, holding the queen of diamonds.

“No, Daddy.”

“Oh,” Spencer smacked his forehead, “I know where I put it,” he pulled off his top hat.

Spencer then proceeded to pull a bouquet of flowers, an endless handkerchief, a rubber chicken, and many other silly things out of his hat that had the kids in tears from laughing.

Finally, he pulled out the ace of hearts, “Is this your card, Princess?”

“Yes, Daddy!” she beamed, hugging him.

Jo’s birthday was a complete success. She was completely worn out by the end of it and slept in late the next morning.

But when she did finally wake, she was eager to try out her gift that you and Spencer had gotten her: a big kid bike with no training wheels. It was purple which was her favorite color with a white basket on the front and a little bell on the handlebars.

You and Spencer were going to teach her how to ride it today. She padded up with some knee pads and elbow pads and her helmet.

You had the twins in their double stroller with mini bucket hats on to protect them from the sun.

“Okay, Jo. Me and Daddy will run with you for a little but then we’re going to let go but you’re going to keep pedaling,” you explained to her.

“I’m scared,” she replied, looking at the street in front of her.

You were practicing in the street in front of your house because it wasn’t very busy and it was flat. Plus, you could leave the twins in the stroller in the driveway.

“It’s okay, Baby J. You’ve got all your padding on so even if you fall, it won’t hurt at all, I promise,” you assured her.

“I believe in you, Princess,” Spencer kissed her helmet-covered head.

“I’m ready,” she nodded, moving her feet to the pedals.

“That’s my girl,” you smiled.

You and Spencer began to jog alongside her as she pedaled.

Spencer looked at you, “Okay, Princess. We’re letting go.”

You and Spencer both removed your hands from her bike and she continued to speed forward.

“Yes, Jo! You’re doing it! ” you encouraged her.

“Princess, can you turn around and come back to me and Mommy?” Spencer asked.

Jo carefully steered her bike and headed back to you both with a massive smile on her face. You and Spencer were loudly cheering her on.

“Okay, try to brake,” you said.

Jo slowly came to a stop right in between you both.

“You’re a pro!” you grinned as you both knelt down to hug her.

Jo had been biking for the past hour and she was still having a blast.

You and Spencer were laying in the front yard with the twins in your laps.

“Mommy, Daddy! Look!” Jo exclaimed as she did donuts on the bike.

“We’re looking, Baby J,” you laughed, “Great job!”

You leaned your head on Spencer’s shoulder.

“Y/N…” Spencer began.

“Yes, Spence?”

“Thank you,” he replied.

“For what?” you looked up at him.

“All this,” he motioned to Jo, the twins, the house, the yard, the chalk drawings on the driveway, the rocking chairs on the front porch, the doormat that said ‘The Reids’, everything he ever dreamed of, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him, “I’d give you the world if I could.”

“You already have,” he smiled.

A/N: thank you everyone so so so much for reading, commenting, reblogging, etc.! i love you all so much. i’m probably going to miss this too much and do one-shots of this series in the future. also, this series hit 14,000 on ao3! that’s crazy that that many people read my work. thank you, just thank you! -dory <3

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat

series taglist: @doctorreiding @reidsfish

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #cm fic #cm fanfic #dad!spencer

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gaming-universe · 3 years

Text

Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART THREE-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar

|PART ONE| |PART TWO|

A low whistle came from Woods as Adler stumbled backward, groaning in pain as he clutched his jaw with a deep chuckle.

Mason winced at the sound, his eyes flickering between both you and Adler with a worried gleam. Adler huffed, standing tall and giving you a deadly glare. “It’s nice to see you too-”

You surged forward, ready to attack the fucking prick and release all of the rage you had built up over the last four months, but Mason was quicker. Faster than you thought humanly possible, he appeared by your side and wrapped his arms around your waist, hauling you away from the scene whilst Woods apprehended Adler. Once you were a safe distance away, Mason released you only to spin you around and place his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey calm down...” He soothed, smiling softly as your wild and furious eyes met his own. They shone with unshed tears as he pulled you into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t know how to react, taken aback by his sudden display of affection. Despite the fact that he knew what had been done to you all those months ago, and even though he looked at you with sadness and pity, he still treated you like you were one of their own. The fact that you had once worked for Perseus didn’t matter. Everyone had their reasons, he didn’t agree with brainwashing you, that was something he absolutely hated. He hated lying to people he cared about. You returned Mason’s embrace, sighing into his shoulder as a way to relieve your anger.

“We all thought you were dead...” He whispered, tightening his hold around you “when Woods and I found out that Adler had shot you, we left the team”.

You pulled away from him, stepping back to look him up and down with an expression of confusion. “If you left, then why did you come back?” You asked quietly, tilting your head to the side in wait for his answer. Mason grinned, “Because we wanted to do you justice. You got us to Perseus the first time, and you helped us even though the CIA took away who you were, and you helped us even though we all lied to you. So we both thought we owed it to you to put a stop to Perseus once and for all”.

You felt your heart swell with mixed emotions, feelings you hadn’t felt in a long time. Your gaze fell to the floor as you released a long sigh, before lifting your gaze to stare across the room. Adler was already looking at you when you turned, there was something dark hidden behind his blank expression, something sombre yet guilty. You hoped he felt guilty at least.

Woods began to approach, a happy skip in his step as he left Adler to his own devices. “Holy shit, Bell. I’ll make a mental note that you can survive literally anything that is thrown at you” He teased, wrapping you in a warm embrace of his own. You returned the gesture, chuckling lightly before pulling away with a warm smile. He held you at arms length, looking you up and down with a fond expression. He patted your shoulder “It’s good to have you back” He spoke lowly, to which you nodded slightly in response.

Looking over Wood’s shoulder, your eyes met Adler’s once again. In fact, you didn’t think his eyes ever left your form. Carefully, you moved around Woods, half expecting the man to wrap his arm around you and stop you mid stride. But when he didn’t, you approached the man across the room with heavy and reluctant steps. When you stood before him, you had to force yourself to look up at him, through those aviators he wore and into his eyes. Even in the small time you had known him, Adler had always been a mystery. He was the type of leader that always kept to himself, never shared his thoughts with anyone. Until now.

You could see through his facade, through those sunglasses he used as a front to hide what was going on beneath. Though he tried to appear stern and authorative, deep down, there was something he wasn’t saying. Something that made you want to ask him-

A loud alarm blared through the bunker, red flashing lights gleaming brightly throughout various locations of the room. Adler huffed, shaking his head angrily. “Fuck, we need to go. Now” He ordered, giving you a small nod before moving towards Woods and Mason. You followed a short distance behind, the four of you now ascending the stairs leading out of the bunker. It was no easy task, trying to sneak out of the base while everyone was on high alert. But it wasn’t impossible.

The four of you made it out of the base relatively unscathed, making it to the jeep you had hidden atop one of the ridges without further hassel. With Adler in the passenger seat and Woods and Mason in the back, it made for a very awkward drive back into town. The cut on your arm stung painfully, you winced at the smallest movements. And of course, the man beside you just had to notice. “You’re hurt” Adler spoke lowly, his tone somewhat concerned, but more stating the obvious. You pursed your lips, wanting nothing more than to reach the safety of Viktor’s house faster. “I’m fine...” You replied shortly, turning left and taking the dirt path up to the house “it’s just a flesh wound”.

“It doesn’t look like one-”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” You quipped, harshly bringing the car to a stop. Ignoring Woods and Mason groaning in annoyance in the background, you turned to glare at Adler, your eyes narrowing dangerously. Adler held your glare, his chest rising and falling as his annoyance no doubt grew. With a long roll of your eyes, you removed the keys from the ignition and quickly jumped out of the car, slamming the door closed behind you with a violent ‘thud’. The others followed suit, closing theur doors a little more gently before joining you at the top of the stairs on the small wooden terrace.

Viktor had left the door unlocked, in the hopes of your eventual return. You smiled faintly at his kindness. Walking into the house, you were immediately met with the concerned expression of the old man, his mood quickly changing when he spied the three men standing in the threshold. “Friends of yours?” He questioned, his eyes now examining your form with a somewhat judgemental look on his features. You turned around to face the three men, finding Mason waving awkwardly in Viktor’s direction with a light chuckle.

Nevertheless, he old man beckoned them inside. Mason entered first, followed by Woods, who mumbled a complimentary ‘nice place’ as he walked past you into the living room. And last, of course, was Adler. After closing the door behind him, Adler let his gaze wander around the interior of the house, studying the off-white walls and the wooden furniture, before returning his attention to your form. His eyes remained focused on the large bloodstain on your chest, the whole in the fabric a reminder to him of the damage he had done.

After an extensive silence, Adler cleared his throat “We should talk, about what happened tonight-”

“No, not now...” Viktor suddenly interrupted, moving to stand beside you in a supportive manner. When Adler opened his mouthto protest, Viktor stopped him once again. “You are all exhausted, and injured. Some more than others...” He gave you a pointed look, one which you responded by poking out your tongue childishly “...there will also no doubt be soldiers looking for you. You will not talk tonight, but tomorrow, when all is safe”.

Begrudgingly, Adler agreed, his shoulders sagging heavily with exhaustion. Viktor clapped victoriously, before offering to show the three men to a room they could use for the night. As Woods and Mason followed Viktor upstairs, you disappeared into the kitchen to retrieve the medical supplies that were kept in the cupboard above the stove. Managing to retrieve a spare bandage, medical tape and disinfectant, you trudged over to the table and collapsed into one of the chairs with a loud sigh. Carefully removing your long-sleeved shirt and tossing it to the side, you figured that perhaps it was time to throw the torn and bloody piece of clothing away. There was no way the blood would was from it now.

After cleaning the wound and stitching it with small strips of medical tape, you wrapped you arm with the bandage, grimacing as a blinding pain shot through your veins. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you allowed your eyes to close briefly. The memory from the bunker kept playing over and over again, Perseus’ voice echoing from somewhere within your subconscence.

Operation Hydra, you are my most valuable asset.

You were brought back to reality by the clinking of glasses, and the chair beside you scraping against the floor as someone sat down with a light groan. Opening your eyes slowly, you were surprised to see Adler sitting there, pouring two glasses of what appeared to be whiskey. “Now this, is the last thing you expect to find in an old Russian man’s cupboard” He spoke lowly, extending one of the glasses toward you with a raised eyebrow.

Despite the mood you were in, you couldn’t belp but laugh softly, taking the glass from his grasp with a small nod of thanks. As if in unison, both you and Adler downed the contents of your glasses, causing you to sigh at the pleasant burning sensation. Your eyes met, and Adler shook his head. “How the fuck did you survive?” “Why? Have you come back to finish the job?” You asked quickly, watching with observant eyes as Adler’s hand tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning white as his shoulders tensed. “We came back to Solovetsky, because we picked up some Russian chatter about our old friend Perseus. He was planning to rebuild that base up there...” He breathed, his scarred features forming a scowl “we didn’t expect to find you”.

You laughed bitterly, leaning back into your seat and folding your arms over your chest “I bet that was a surprise for you-”

“Do you realise how hard it was for me to come back here Bell?-”

“That’s not my name”.

Adler paused at your threatening tone, huffing loudly as you glared daggers. If only looks could kill. You sat up straighter in your seat, jaw clenching as you spoke “My name is Y/n, but I assume you already knew that”. When the man before you said nothing, and instead found the surface of the table more interesting, you stood up abruptly.

“Did you regret it?” You dared ask, your voice becoming soft, grabbing Adler’s attention. When his gaze met yours, his lips parted in response “Regret what?-” “Don’t fuck me around, Adler...” You snapped, violently slamming your hands down atop the table “you’ve screwed me over enough. I don’t think you understand how hard this is for me. The man I trusted with my life, the man who fucked up my mind and shot me because he considered me a loose end, is sitting right in front of me. No more lies. No more bullshit. Tomorrow, you will tell me everything you know, and I will tell you everything I know, which admittedly isn’t much. But if your plan is to just fuck me over again, then I’m already out”.

When Adler didn’t respond, you took that as your sign to leave. You ignored Woods and Mason, who watched you storm past them up the staircase to the second floor of the house. You were beyond tired, overwhelmed by the days events.

Viktor brought you tea later that night, offering his company should you need it.

Tag List: @pookolokon @travelllar @basicwhiteasian @shellshockedbell @inteligentecat @staryozora @lovinggooppalacebanana @ktdragonborn @quietblogs-2-rd @cerezi

#russell adler x reader #russell adler #russell adler imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

heiress - 3

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: this is part three of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc brought to you by me listening to turning page from sleeping at last so i decided to add a quote. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

“if i had only felt the warmth within your touch. if i had only seen how you smile when you blush or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough i would have known what i was living for all along”

previous chapter

She entered her past as she stepped into the right wing room. She remembered this room, she remembered it way to well from the shelves on the walls and the book cabinets to the burning smell it still somehow held even after all these years. Her eyes gazed from side to side until they turned purple and ghosts of her memories started to take form. Her eyes widened as she stepped back, trying to run away from the room until two hands grabbed her arms into place forcing her towards the chair where he was, long hair hitting his jaw, strapped like a wild animal. She struggled against the two men, trying to free herself from their hold, yet it didn’t budge, they kept holding her into place as if she was being punished.

- Wipe him again. - one of the men in a lab coat said in a thick Russian accent as the chair lowered down towards an electric head lock. His screams inundated her mind like daggers. Her breath quickened as she started to move her arms to try and get freed for them, to try and help them.

- STOP! PLEASE! - she yelled out, begged as she continued to try and free herself from the two men holding her arms until she fell on her knees. An agony filled scream passed through her lips, overpowering his own screams as a wave of white glow expanded from her to the corners of the room.

- Y/N! - her head was tucked into her legs as someone held her shoulders. Her breathe came out into fast, short paced puffs as he lifted her head to see Bucky standing in front of her holding her arms. What scared her wasn’t him but what surrounded her as she looked around to see everything that laid across the room was gone, the walls itself interrupting from being walls into being made of white glow, her eyes completely white.

- Get away from me. - she pushed away from Bucky, unsure of what she had done, unsure of what she had seen. - I don’t wanna hurt you, I don’t wanna hurt you again.

- Look at me. - he ignored her pushing him away, walking up to her again and lowering himself down to her level. His blue eyes met her completely white ones as he wondered what to do. He didn’t know what to do. - Breathe, okay?

- Okay. - she felt the air enter and exit her lungs slowly as she stared into his blue eyes, so calm.

- GET AWAY FROM HER! - a red glow pushed him away from Y/N to reveal Wanda and Sam who had come to her rescue the moment they heard her scream. She rushed from the door to her friend, holding her hands in hers while Sam went to check on Bucky. - What’s wrong? What did he do? I can’t read his mind.

- He didn’t do anything. I ... I lost control. - Y/N looked down at her hands and at the room which was slowly returning to its normality, with the objects slowly returning. - I don’t know what happened. I walked in and ... it just exploded.

- Guys, we found it. - Monica spoke over the intercom. Y/N’s eyes lingered over to where Wanda had effortlessly thrown Bucky too, an apologetic look, yet she couldn’t understand his look. It was curious almost too curious as if he was looking for clues in her face. Wanda protectively draped her arm over her back, pushing her away from the room which was still haunted by a white-like glow.

She knew that memory, the one she had been stuck in. It was a much too familiar memory of several times she had been punished by watching them ... by watching them hurt him. Madame B was many things but she was a smart woman, a smart woman who carefully plucked out every fear her girls had and used them against them if any stepped the line. Bucky had been one fear too easy to spot, having seen Y/N step up to a guard who had harmed him even after the much taller man had thrown her to a ground. It was a haunted memory for her. - they would always hold her and make her watch as they hurt him. She still remembered his screaming, blood curdling, pain filled screams. Seeing it again, being in that room and have him come to her was just too much.

Yelena and the rest of the team had been left in the dark about everything that had happened. It was best that way; she did not need more people worrying about things she should’ve already figured out. However, Agatha was right and that she knew. Whatever the soul stone had given her was easily uncontrollable if she was in a messy state. If someone had answers it had to be Agatha yet she had learned that dealing with her was a monkey’s paw.

Bucky on the other hand couldn’t stop looking at her. The more he did, the less foggy the memories became from the very time he had seen her to the last time he did. All he could fixate however was on a broken promise he had made her the last time he had seen her. I will find you, I promise. Such pretty words, such a beautiful promise, almost worthy of being in a poem but the truth is, he hadn’t been looking for her. He had memories of her in patches, memories of what he had felt for her and now she was there. He wondered if she remembered him, if she knew who he was. If she remembered ... maybe she didn’t. After all HYDRA and the Red Room had a particular talent at destroying memories with a swift ability. He watched as she listened to Monica explain what they had found and what not, her hair escaping the grip of her ponytail held up by a red piece of fabric tied in a small bow.

- Promise me you’ll remember I love you. - his own ghost voice melodised into his hearing along with the sound of rain against window panes. It wasn’t raining and he wasn’t speaking. - Because they’ll make me forget and you have to remember. You have to remember so you can remind me.

- You won’t forget it. - he could hear her voice as he looked at her but Y/N wasn’t even looking at him. He wondered when she had told him that, he wondered if he had reassured her, he wondered if she remembered when he had told him that. There was so much he still didn’t know but it came in waves, it came in waves explaining what it was. Wanda, however, was staring at him, head slightly cocked to the side in a menacing manner. He looked at the Sokovian woman, trying to read her but he couldn’t. Her mood was a simple as someone keeping her eye on him.

The small plane landed just outside the hex; Yelena jumping from the harbour onto the wilderness the first, followed by Alexei and Monica who were excited enough to study the new notebook but Y/N lingered behind. Flashes of what had just happened rushing through her mind as she stared at the blank wall of the small plane and then back to her hands which were trembling.

- Matter manipulation is messy, isn’t it, dear? - a voice shook her from her own mind. Looking around there was no one but her. She put her hand over her holster, ready to shoot at nowhere.

- What are you doing? - she turned around to see Wanda approaching the jet, having broken apart from the group to check on Y/N. - We need to talk. It’s about Bucky.

- What about Bucky? - she climbed out of the jet to met Wanda.

- I can’t read him anymore. - she sighed. - Did you maybe by accident expanded your “shield” to him too?

- This is not Twilight, Wanda. I cannot expand whatever it is I have.

- Well, I don’t trust him. - she shrugged. - What happened in the Red Room?

- Oh, it was nothing. - she lied, it was something but she did not want to worry Wanda. She didn’t want to worry anyone, she just wanted to get into the hex and go to sleep and that’s just what she did.

She forwent the meeting, last thing she needed was to hear about the Winter Soldier. If there was someone who knew more about the Winter Soldier than the person himself was her and that knowledge was tainted with memories that she wished to relieve yet forget. Laying against her bed she starred at the white ceiling of her bedroom, raising her fingers to play around with the white mist that surrounded them at her will. Element manipulation, that’s what she did. That’s what her file said, that’s what SWORD told her yet element manipulation wouldn’t have made a full room’s objects disappear. Whatever it was, whatever HYDRA and her father had put in her she didn’t know. She always seemed to be the last to know of things that concerned her. Bringing her hand down, she rolled in bed to lay on her side, watching her door with sleepy eyes, hoping she could go to sleep. Of course the universe had different plans as once she felt herself waver between to conscious and unconscious world, she heard a knock against her door. Groaning, she got up from the warmth of her bed and padded towards the door, opening it to slightly to see Bucky standing there.

- Sergeant Barnes, everything okay? - she leaned against the side of her door, staring him up and down.

- Yes, I just wanted to give back the letters Monica Rambeau gave to me. I assume you and your team will be able to decode them better than me ... I guess. - he handed her the stack of letters worn out by time and his own hands. Her eyes moved up from the letters to his eyes, looking for any type of game he could be playing with her. - I guess with you being Pierce’s daughter and all ... maybe he commented with you.

- Ah ... - she forced a smile upon her lips as she took the letters. - You know, I haven’t spoken with my father since I was 10.

- I didn’t me ...

- He didn’t really try to reach out to me either. - she interrupted him. - The only person he has reached out while in prison has been Fury. I don’t even think he would know what I look like.

- I didn’t mean to offend you.

- You didn’t. - she sighed, hand pushing her own hair back. - I wish I could apologise better for what he did to you but I really wouldn’t know how I’d do it.

- I wouldn’t want you to apologise.

- You don’t even know how many apologies I actually owe you. - she looked down to her feet before looking at him. - ... because of my father, I mean.

- Well... if anything there helps. - he put his hands on his pockets. - Or if you know who they’re for ... let me know.

She stood against her door as he left right after that sentence, watching him disappear in the long hallway probably to return to his bedroom. It didn’t really matter, really, she told herself. Yet part of her knew Bucky was much more observant than she could ever be so if there was nothing she could find in those letters. Nevertheless, the most curious side of her nature only wanted to know what is, so she did. She sat down in her bed and grabbed the first letter, pushing it from the envelope onto the comforter. She recognised his handwriting, a bit more messy, probably rushed in ran out ink. He probably had stole one of the sign in sheets old pens which barely worked.

Y/N faltered, refusing to focus on his writing, on his words to her. She knew they were dated after she had ran away from the Red Room and she didn’t want to read his words to her after she had abandoned him. It was too much yet the more her eyes read the date, the more courage she got. Might as well get her heart broken and move on with her life.

Dear Daisy,

today I remembered you and it is probably silly to be writing it down mostly because I don’t expect you to ever read it but if I write it down at least I can remember you again if they make me forget. I remembered the first time I ever saw you yet mentioning it now feels weird as I don’t even know if you knew I had seen you. You had a black bodysuit I am almost certain and black ballerina shoes dancing up to some monotonous music with your hair pushed back with some old red fabric in a small bow. It just came to me staring at that piano myself, maybe as long as that piano exists I won’t forget you yet I don’t know if it will hurt less to remember you or to forget you. All I know is, the moment they send me out I will find you. I promise I will find you.

Well, the two of them were good at broken promises, she thought to herself. Maybe he had reminded himself to find her and chose not to after assessing her actions, maybe he didn’t even remember she existed or what her voice was. She hoped the later was true. She wouldn’t know what to say, what to do if he remembered her. Years ago she used to picture it in her naive mind; running to him, hugging and kissing like in a picture perfect rom com. Now she just wouldn’t know what to say other than beg on her knees for his forgiveness. Not that she deserved it. At least she had that in common with her father, both owed James Barnes an apology which could never be accepted.

Y/N shoved whatever was left of those letters under her bed, hoping to bury them in the same place she buried all her worries. What use was going back to the past? It hadn’t been kind to her then, it wouldn’t be kind now so there was really no use in dwelling in what could’ve been. In what she could’ve been. Childish whims. She let her thoughts simmer, lull her into sleep until she was back into that place, that room which had made her into what she was now. She looked down, dressed in the issued black shirt and leggings, small gun in hand. She looked to the side, Madam B. standing near her in her impecable blue suit with a wood board under her arm.

- It’s just this one and you are gonna win. - she gave her a smile but it wasn’t warm, it was cold, too cold. - Just shot the target, darling.

- What if I fail? - she looked at the person tied to the chair, bag over the head.

- You can’t fail. - the assistant pulled the bag from over the target to reveal Bucky. She took a step behind, faltering as her grip loosened over the gun she was holding. - Shoot him.

- I can’t.

- Shoot him.

- I can’t ... I won’t.

- Fine, then I’ll do it. - she grabbed the gun from her and rose it up to Bucky’s head. She tried to run, to try and put herself in front of her but she was stuck, she was stuck ... and then bang.

She rose from her bed in terror, sweating, breathes coming in and out as fast as they could as she looked around to see the walls of her bedroom. She was safe, she was safe, she was not there. He was safe. Looking down at her hands, the shivering had become and this time it bothered her. She looked weak, frail ... just like her father had described her before, like SWORD and HYDRA described her. Y/N jumped off her bed, running away from her bed to try and find the bathroom or the kitchen ... somewhere she could wash her shivering hands, somewhere she could drown her face in cold water just somewhere. She rushed through the kitchen doors and to the sink, turning on the water before putting her hands under the running water.

- Y/N? Are you okay? - she had rushed so fast into the kitchen she hadn’t even noticed someone else was already there. She turned her head from the sink to look at Bucky but what she saw made her put her hand in front her mouth. He was there, long hair ... with a wound shot on his forehead. She turned her head back to sink, watching her reflection in the sink, her eyes glowing white. - Y/N?

She looked over her should back to him, that look ... what he looked like was gone. He had short hair, healthy skin, no wounds but she had seen it, she had seen it. Bucky noticed the discomfort in her face, taking a step back once he noticed his arm was on full display along with its scars. Sometimes he forgot about how he looked, about how he could freak people out.

- Sergeant Barnes, I’m so sorry ... I didn’t mean to scare you.

- Are you okay? - he wanted to reach out to her, be comforting but he barely looked like a comforting man. - You look shaken up.

- Yeah, I just ... bad dream really. Quite childish.

- It’s not childish. I get them all my time, my therapist say it’s normal.

- I have no reason to have them. - she leaned against the counter. - Why are you here? Midnight snack?

- Just had to think about some stuff and Sam snores. - he joked around, smiling once he saw her lip curl slightly upwards. - I have a question for you. You read those letters, right?

- One of them. Why?

- Do you think she might have loved me?

- Pardon?

- I will reword it. Did you love me?

taglist: @lookiamtrying

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