#milan kundera ignorance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anika-ann · 1 year

Text

Love on the Brain - part 6.2

Ch6: Floriography (2/2)

Type: MCU x Criminal Minds crossover series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6000

Summary: After the long night, you come back to the case with fresh eyes… and a new piece of evidence. You wished more evidence was good news. It’s not.

Series masterlist

Warnings: series includes criminal behaviour such as stalking or kidnapping; graphic violence, gun violence; (mentions of) death; allusions to dub-con; possible PTSD and flashbacks; sexual innuendos and foul language. Loads of fluff and teasing. I’m covering my bases here to make sure - probably sounds worse than it is. If you’re interested in specific warnings for individual chapters, let me know.

A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics; Second part - the few first paragraphs in italics are from the end of part1 of sixth chapter, just to remind you what’s up 😁

“Why don't you ever use your strength on me?" she said. “Because love means renouncing strength," said Franz softly. – Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

No one protested against your plan. No one pointed out that the Tony’s coffee machine was a thing from caffeine addicts’ dreams and could prepare virtually anything. No one offered to help you with the large number of cups and sweet treats you had mentioned, understanding that needing air meant needing some alone time too.

It seemed they could all be pretty smart cookies after all – you would crack this case before it was too late, right? There were no other options anyway.

You motioned an awkward ‘gotcha’ on Emily and Hotch, nodding to yourself.

“Should have remembered those orders – some things never change,” you said wistfully, grabbing your phone with a credit care in its case. “Coming right up, guys. It’s on me.”

“Thanks, Bean.”

You smiled tightly at Spence, all but escaping the room as you felt more and more embarrassed at your emotional outburst – something coffee could hardly make up for, especially since it wasn’t your first scene in the past 24 hours.

You were all over the place ever since this mess started and you really did need to get your head straight.

And since getting a good night sleep in Steve’s room – bless him – didn’t help, your morning slip-up only making for more nerves, it seemed that you needed to do it alone.

…

As you stalked towards the elevator, quick on your feet, you heard him before you saw him. You sped up – but you could never outrun a supersoldier.

He fell into step with you, still a foot behind when he tried to talk to you – something you desperately didn’t want to do unless you were interested in falling apart.

“Sparkles,” he called out softly, having you grit your teeth as you ignored the itch to either push him away or to jump into his arms – because everything bad always disappeared when he held you. Or it felt as if it did.

But this wasn’t going to just go away with a hug; you needed to actually solve the case to have that happen and you couldn’t afford to be distracted, be it by your weakness or Steve’s presence or his complete lack of self-preservation.

“Steve, we’ve talked about this,” you hissed. “Go back to that room or I swear to god…”

“No.”

You halted in her steps, head snapping to him to shoot him an incredulous glare. He said what?

“What the fuck do you mean no?”

Could he just wipe that stupid concern out of his face and go back to where he had five other people protecting him instead of parading around when he could get shot?! What was wrong with him?!

Why did he have to be so obstinate and irritating and--- so Steve.

“I mean no,” he repeated firmly. No shit. “You’re upset and I-“

You shook your head, not letting him finish as you started walking again, long strides in quick succession so you could escape him before he could try and dive into your feelings and try to help. Before you could punch him or maybe kiss all the stupid out of him.

You sped up upon the last thought, practically breaking into a run.

You may not be able to outrun a supersoldier, but you could try to outrun the onslaught on feelings you had. For him, among others.

Ha, he said no. Idiot.

“You know what? Fine. Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. See if I care!”

The elevator door slid open invitingly, having you slip in and turn on your heels to glare Steve down just in case he didn’t get the memo.

Vainly.

“Sparkles, wait. Just stop for a minute,” he pleaded as he pushed into the elevator with you just as the door was closing.

“Seriously?!”

God, he was the most maddening person on this damn planet-

“What floor, Agent Jones?” Jarvis asked, perfectly polite and unfazed, while you crossed your arms on your chest, staring ahead and ignoring Steve standing by your side.

“The lobby, J. Thank you,” Steve replied to the artificial intelligence calmly.

Jarvis didn’t even reply, sending the elevator down in slow pace as to prolong your suffering.

Even when making a point of avoiding Steve’s gaze, you could see him in your peripheral vision. He kept looking at you steadily, resembling a kicked puppy as you watched the numbers tick by, his presence immense and nagging even in its silence.

You reached number 24 until you couldn’t handle it anymore.

“What?” you snapped, not dignifying him with a single look – which clearly bothered him. Good.

“Sparkles… look at me.”

Your stomach made a somersault at his gentle tone; you felt your resolve not to break into stupid tears again cracking.

No. You would not fall for this. You would not.

Gritting your teeth, you lifted your chin and turned to face him, mindful to glare, because he was supposed to be in the conference room minding his own sitting-on-his-ass business; you were determined to explain it to him again.

Your expression slipped when you got hit by a full load of his sincerely worried gaze.

Damn you, Steven Grant Rogers. Damn you, damn you, damn your stubborn reckless heroic ass-

“You’re so bossy and stubborn and reckless and I hate you,” you spat viciously, irritated and somehow relieved by a small smile growing on his face with each word and good lord, if he could just-

“I know. Come here.”

Carefully, slowly enough to give a chance to back out, he took your hand, twisting it slightly so your fingers rested over his pulse point, feeling every strong beat of his heart. You felt your expression falter further. That bastard read you like a book. Reading between the lines, staring straight through the wall of anger you had put up to reveal the fear underneath.

You felt his eyes studying your face as you stubbornly focused on the wall behind his shoulder – even if the dead eyes of Kyle Meyers were glaring back at you – until the mass of muscle moved closer and closer, once again giving you enough time to stop him. But you didn’t.

You accepted his hug instead, gulping against the lump in your throat when he enveloped you entirely, arms shielding you from the world, his chin resting on the top of your head. You melted into him as few stray tears rolled out of your eyes at last, seeping into his shirt.

He didn’t say another word; he just held you close, until you relaxed into him, hands reluctantly rising to wrap around him as well.

You were painfully aware that the elevator had stopped, but Jarvis had enough tact at least to leave the door sealed.

“Okay… maybe--- maybe I don’t entirely hate you,” you admitted quietly and lord, wasn’t that the truth.

You felt him smile into your hair, his hand rubbing your lower back comfortingly. He held you so carefully and yet firmly, giving his reassurance and comfort so willingly, his frame pressing to yours reminding you he was strong and not easily hurt.

And that he cared.

He cared so much, offering not only his body heat to sooth the shivers running up your spine whenever you remembered the board in the meeting room with his pictures on it, but also warmth; kind, protective and almost loving, stoking the feelings you were so stubbornly stomping on. Your own love. Actual romantic love.

No, of course you didn’t hate him – not even when he was being a stubborn jerk.

You loved him.

You loved him with your whole heart and you couldn’t imagine losing him and all your damn investigation was falling apart and maybe so were you a little and you hated that.

You sniffled a few times, fighting the full-on sobbing. It was only over a day, but you were psychically exhausted and you knew you were being unreasonably impatient but that didn’t really help you to stop being that way, only adding to your frustration. And to the fear that no matter how hard you tried, this might end up in a tragedy.

You had no right to dump all that on Steve, you needed to deal with this shit on your own; but you told him anyway.

“I’m… scared,” you whispered reluctantly, Steve’s arms tightening momentarily at your admission.

“I know that too. Thank you.”

You chuckled minutely, pushing slightly against him so you could look up at him, eyebrow raised in doubt.

“For being scared?”

“For being worried,” he corrected you softly.

He didn’t say it out loud, but as you met his gaze, you heard the rest of his words as clear as if they had been spoken: thank you for being worried for me.

You’d always be. Watching him now, the gorgeous image of his face, beauty written in his features and expression, body and soul, you knew your feelings were never going to go away. Even years down the line, even if you’d live in another city and cut all communication, the picture of Steve – and more so, the burn of a feeling whenever he touched you – would always remain.

He watched you with a tiny smile on his lips, tender fingers fixing the hair that had got out of place when he hugged you, the gentlest caress of his fingertip on your temple. You released a shaky breath when the pad of his index finger slid down to your chin, holding it up to keep your gaze trapped in his; as if you wanted to escape it again.

His eyes roamed your face – it occurred to you that you must have looked like such a mess and he didn’t seem to care – settling on your lips, sending your heart into frenzy, your gaze flickering to the temptation of his mouth in such intimate proximity.

Inevitable gravity guided you to erase the last distance, fighting with the reason in your brain. The spark was tangible now, you could taste it on your tongue as something in Steve’s eyes shifted, pupils dilating like they had when the morning found you in his bed and you had suggested sharing it. His insanely tempting lips were right there for your taking, barely moving as he spoke your nickname softly, no more than three inches from your mouth.

“Sparkles, I-“

The ding of the elevator shattered the moment, having you draw in a sharp breath, Steve’s firm arm on you loosening enough for you to take a step back, head spinning. You were pissed beyond belief for Jarvis’ timing – and grateful.

Not the time. Now was not the time.

Gulping, you stepped out to the lobby, Steve following suit – reminding you that he in fact, shouldn’t, as you walked past the few other employees walking in the lobby.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you sighed, not even bothering to look at him, knowing how he’d react.

“I’m still in the building,” he argued, voice a little raspy, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, your stomach deliciously warm still.

Leave it, Jones.

Later. Think of it as a reward. We’re 75% sure he feels the same now, he wanted the kiss too. This will be worth the try, chances are high.

LATER.

You cleared our throat. “True that, but we said you shouldn’t be walking alone. This isn’t even the residential area.”

“The private elevator is right here. I think I can make a few steps without hurting myself...” Steve continued, almost carefree. “I’m not you when you get drunk.”

Should you punch him or kiss him for trying to be funny? Maybe both at once – just punch his mouth with yours. He was literally asking for it.

“Ha, ha,” you laughed sarcastically. “You’re still a little shit, GG.”

And I love it. I love you. How dare you.

“So are you,” he shot back, pace leisurely, getting you to slow down too. “Look, Sparkles… I know—I didn’t want to take this seriously, but I see it is now. I promise, I just wanted to check on you. Thank you for calling in your old team. I know it couldn’t have been easy and it brings memories.”

You sighed. It was hard to be mad at him when he talked like that. And looked like that.

“It does, actually. But mostly the nice ones,” you assured him, a smile playing on your lips.

It was easy to say that now; now that he was with you, when you got the ugly emotions out. Steve might be a little shit – but you’d be damned if his presence wasn’t all things wholesome.

“Like Dr. Spence Genius Reid and his ridiculous coffee preferences? ...or Genuis Penelope Garcia who calls you angel or honey?” he added quickly after a beat, having you stop dead in your tracks, your jaw falling slack.

No. No fucking way.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, stunning you speechless for a moment.

Make that 85%. Maybe 90% if you were counting the way he instantly zeroed on Reid rather than Garcia – and yes, it could have been that Reid was actually physically present, but… maybe it wasn’t just that.

“Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends? Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“No,” he said way too fast, utterly unconvincing.

You gave him a look, wordlessly asking him to try again and think before speaking. Red tinted the tips of his ears, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans as his gaze lowered to the floor for a moment.

Oh god, he really had been jealous the whole time. You couldn’t believe it. The gentle stroke to your ego was such a welcomed feeling it almost had you forget all about the troubles of this morning.

“Well, you’re—you know, you’re…” Steve muttered, swallowing heavily as he was looking for the right words, “you’re one of the most important people in my life. And you get along with them so well… they might end up stealing you back. So… yeah. I might be. A little bit. I just don’t want to see you go.”

Oh.

Your heart swelled with affection at his confession, stumbling in your chest when he looked up to meet your gaze, shy and a little guilty.

As if only his behaviour was the insufferable one; as if he was the only one whose fears got the best of them in the past 30 hours or so.

“Oh GG,” you whispered, fingers itching to comfort him. “I don’t think I could go back to that job. I know we were making a difference there too, but here… there’s just something very right about being here.”

With you.

At that, the corners of his lips quirked up a bit, eyes lighting up. Encouraged, you continued.

“And you’re one of the most important people to me too…. So I’m glad you’re letting them help. Now let me save all of our lives and sanity by bringing coffee and donuts.”

“We could have had it delivered,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m honestly so done with being copped up. It’s clearly not helping my judgement. Scratch that, it’s driving me crazy and I’ll be happy to breathe in the New York City’s not-so-fresh air.”

Steve hung his head with a sigh, eyeing the busy streets with longing. What an adorably pitiful image of a huge man.

“I can relate to that. I am definitely jealous about that. Going out.”

Grimacing, you reached out to rub his arm – and with a last second decision, you stepped on your tiptoes, pressing a brief kiss on his cheek. The shortest stubble prickled your lips, a welcomed distraction from the fact that your aim was a little off.

He gifted you with a soft smile, large hand landing on your shoulder as if keep you in place, thumb caressing the bare skin on the side of your neck. The thrill it sent through your veins had you nearly tremble in excitement.

Definitely 90%.

It was like a shot of an instant determination to get this case done as fast as possible for a whole different reason – so you could explore this sooner. Preferably three minutes ago so you could make out in an elevator.

Later, Jones. Focus.

“I know, GG. I’ll be back before you know it and the caffeine will help us solve this and we’ll be back to our routines.” Perhaps with some adjustments. “Though I’ll let you run a few extra miles before joining for your next morning run, I can already tell you’ll be sprinting like a crazy supersoldier. Soon.”

Maybe if you said it one more time, you’d actually believe the optimistic view.

“You could keep up,” he said, sounding confident he was right.

The way his eyes subtly flickered all over you, a shadow of a promise when he met your gaze again, had you swallow loudly. Perhaps he wasn’t only talking about running; and damn, wasn’t that distracting and since when did Steve flirt with you? Little shit-

Later. You’ll deal with this later.

Your lips twitched as you shook your head.

“Yeah, right. In my dreams. Maybe,” you threw over your shoulder and you walked out of the building at last.

Once outside, you shot him a look and mouthed an amused and exasperated go back when you found him still watching you – as pleasant as it was to have him look at you with longing that went beyond envying you your freedom. He looked at you as if you had been in his dream before; and the mere idea made you giddy all over.

In your dreams, there might have been some other activities revolving around Steve and keeping up with him, but you wouldn’t spell that out for him. Yet.

Steve shook his head as if he heard your thoughts and disagreed, spinning on his heel and heading back to the elevator.

Maybe you imagined it, but there seemed to be a new pep in his step; there definitely was in yours.

Truth was, Steve would have done nearly anything you’d asked him; and so when you told him to just go back at last, he obeyed, even if he was in no rush to return to the conference room. In fact, he made to turn and the moment you weren’t looking anymore, he watched your retreating figure until you rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Only then, he shuffled his feet back to the elevator.

His body was still buzzing; his senses and his mind were full of you. How your body always mended into his so naturally, how you had looked at him in the morning, still sleepy, but so trusting – and almost heated as you practically proposed you two shared the bed next time. Most recently, how your lips brushed his cheek, low, so low it was almost on his jaw, almost in the corner of his mouth.

It was maddening, really, that you didn’t aim an inch or two elsewhere, but it filled him with heat – and with hope.

It was there earlier too, even if originally, he had followed you to the elevator only to comfort you.

But once inside, it was impossible to ignore the sparks spicing the air as you looked up at him; with such intensity, eyes wide, affectionate… as if you wanted to kiss him there too. You even leaned in; he tasted your breath on his tongue, his lips almost brushing yours--- and then Jarvis just had to mess it up.

To say Steve was disappointed was an understatement, but coming clean about his jealousy later and the sweet reward in the form of a kiss – albeit only on his cheek – almost made up for it. It felt like a promise; and Steve couldn’t wait to collect, making a promise to himself that when, hopefully when, you’d kiss him and agreed to go out on a date, he’d laid the world to your feet.

So no, Steve wasn’t in any rush to go back to the grim conference room, empty of your presence, but full of threats to women he had dared to speak with.

He re-entered the room with a sigh, met with concerned gazes of your former teammates as Natasha and Tony seemed engrossed in guaranteeing the women from the photos a bodyguard to escort them to the Tower.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Reid questioned with a soft frown, only making Steve sigh again.

He would be jealous and inclined not to reply, but he understood that the question was coming from a place of genuine worry and friendship.

And it wasn’t Doctor Spencer Reid you had almost kissed a few minutes ago.

“I think so,” Steve said, his lips turning upward again as he recalled something akin to amusement when you were leaving the building, lighter on your feet you had been walking out of this very room. Yeah, you’d be okay. “I know she really was sorry about earlier. She’s… she worries,” he defended you gently.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Emily assured him as she looked up from the reports on the table, a somewhat teasing smile playing in the corner of her lips. “If I had my boyfriend in danger, I wouldn’t have a clear head either and would sure as hell snap at people.”

“We’re not-“

“You might as well be,” Natasha interjected as Steve automatically went to disprove Emily’s assumption.

Smartass redhead.

“She’s my best friend,” Steve protested lamely, unable to help the giddy feeling of hope warming up his chest.

You were. But maybe, maybe, you could be more soon.

“Eeeeeh yeah, but you’ve been doing googly eyes on each other since forever and you’re grinning like you finally kissed the hell out of her. Come on, it looks like even the profilers from the FBI think you’re dating,” Tony added, smirking as he looked up from his work as well.

“Now you trust profiling?” Steve sassed him back.

“We just trust someone who’s been working with the kid for years,” Natasha hummed. “And is a profiler.”

Steve just gaped, having no counterargument.

Why was he friend with these people again?

“That’s not--- not the point. I just wanted to say that she’s been so determined to resolve this ever since she found the photos and it’s taking us longer than she imagined, I guess,” he sighed again, scowling at the offending objects. “I understand her concern with--- she must have seen a lot of cases like this when she was with your team.”

The air in the room shifted – metaphorically and literally, since Reid’s head whipped in Steve’s direction so fast Steve was surprised he didn’t break his neck.

Reid’s face was stunned, staring at Steve in silent shock, before he snapped back to the board, frantically looking all over it and then zeroing on Steve again.

Was it Steve’s imagination or did the genius’s skin turned a shade paler?

“What did you just say?” Reid asked with such urgency that it sent an icy shiver down Steve’s spine, prompting him to reply immediately.

“That when she was working with you-“

“No, no, about the photos. She was the one to find them?”

Steve gulped, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty at the other man’s surprise; he honestly thought it had been mentioned. And if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t think it was all that important with how often the mail got mixed up – but everything about Reid now was screaming that somehow, this detail was crucial.

“Uhm, yes. In her mailbox-“

“Son of a bitch--- and neither of you thought to tells us that?!” Reid exploded, his voice going an octave higher with the curse and making everyone in the room jump – and look at him as if he had grown a second head.

Blind to the reaction he received, Reid grabbed his phone, dialling, mild panic painting his features as mumbled to himself, phone to his ear.

“Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up-“

Everyone – the BAU team included – watched the genius with mute wonder as he paced, grimacing when the only response he got was the dialling tone.

The sound was ominous in the quiet room; and as it was, a slow understanding crept up to Steve’s mind, his heart racing.

Reid looked worried, truly worried. What if he was worried for you and it had nothing to do with the way you left the room?

“Reid, what’s going on?” Emily asked at last when the man cursed under his lips, staring at his phone with disdain, eyes barely flickering up at the question.

“She’s not on any of these photos.”

Steve wished he understood what the hell stating the fact again meant.

And apparently, so would the others.

“Yeah, we knew that…?” Emily questioned slowly, visibly confused as Reid tried his phone again. “And now we learned an additional information about Jones being pulled into it more than we thought, her being the one possibly worthy enough to even find the photos, but…”

She trailed off, watching Reid helplessly as he ignored her, turning his back to them all, mumbling under his breath again.

A lump in his throat – and a mess in his head – Steve looked at the last remaining member of the BAU. Hotch’s gaze was calculating as he observed the board and Reid’s erratic behaviour.

Then all of sudden, his whole demeanour changed, eyebrows rising, arms uncrossing; the most expressive Steve had ever seen him.

“Reid. You’re not seriously suggesting Jones planted the pictures and is actually the unsub?” he questioned, voice flat.

Steve felt the wind knocked out of him, blood pressure skyrocketing so fast his head actually spun for a second. His fists clenched on their own volition, as to defend you against the completely absurd claim.

“I’m sorry what did you just say?” Steve found his voice, incredulous – and menacing.

Steve would have thought he misheard agent Hotchner, but the beat of shocked silence that followed told him he wasn’t the only one rendered speechless.

Reid’s head snapped to them, a scowl on his face, hand with a phone still by his ear.

“What? Of course not, that’s absurd!” he blurted out, almost offended. “But she might be a target!”

Cold horror seized Steve, stealing last remnants of breath from his lungs. Claws of ice, not unlike those which grabbed him when he plunged the aircraft into the Arctic, bit into his skin, quickly gnawing deeper, aiming straight for his heart.

A confused what sounded in the room, maybe even from Steve himself, but he wouldn’t be able to tell.

All he thought of was you, possibly in danger. Of you walking down the street with a light smile on your face, numerous coffees in hand along with a box of donuts, not having a single clue that you might be the very target of the stalker you were investigating. You, unsuspecting, suddenly catching a bullet straight between-

Doctor Reid’s cursing snapped him back to reality – but a nightmare was still unfolding in front of him.

“Goddammit! Can’t you--- tap into her phone or something?” Reid demanded frantically, earning a reluctant and very much confused response from Tony.

“I could…?”

“Do it,” Steve barked without thought, already making his way out of the room, adrenalin pumping.

Natasha was faster, making him stop by stepping in his way boldly – and stupidly.

Did she think she could stop him? Why would she even try? This was you. They couldn’t expect him to just stand back, that was simply absurd.

“You sit down, Romeo.”

“I’m not sitting down,” Steve spat, irritation rising. “Tony, do you have her location yet?”

“Jarvis is on it…” Tony said slowly, watching Steve try to sidestep Natasha with a frown, the spy mirroring Steve’s movements, her face speaking of just how unimpressed she was. “For whatever reason.”

“I don’t care for the reason—Jesus Christ, Natasha, get out of my way before I move you! If Reid thinks she’s in danger-“

“Then still, Natasha’s right, you are not going anywhere,” Hotch stated almost calmly – but Steve could tell that his façade was cracking. He was scared for you too – only more reason to get fucking moving.

Bullets or no bullets.

“We’re wasting time here. Those bullets are not just dangerous to me,” Steve reasoned swiftly, glaring murder on Natasha who reciprocated it wholeheartedly. “I’m probably still the one least likely to get seriously hurt-“

“That’s not exactly true, they’re calibrated to your DNA-“ Tony pipped up.

A growl gathered in Steve’s chest and he wasn’t about to hold it back.

His fists itched to punch his way through anything and anyone. Because this was you. And he didn’t give a damn about anything else, because his ribcage felt tight at the mere thought of you getting hurt. Let alone—he couldn’t even think it.

“I don’t give a damn. If she’s in danger-“ he argued again, pissed beyond believe because he could have already been on his bike and Tony would text him your location on his way down to the garage-

“I’ll take Clint,” Natasha announced, having Steve sigh irritably, because telling Barton only prolonged the time you stayed unprotected, which was simply unthinkable.

“You guys stay here, especially you, and keep trying to reach her,” she stared at Steve pointedly before moving onto Reid. “And you explain to them what the hell is going on. Keep us updated.”

Steve grinded his teeth, but before he could protest, Natasha exited the room and Hotch subtly took her place.

“I know this is hard, but you need to stay,” he said, using the same tone he had when you lost your nerve earlier, levelling him with a steady look, and it made Steve nearly combust with frustration.

Because he was not you – he didn’t answer to this man. Especially since you were in danger…but he was willing to give him one minute more. He didn’t move as Hotch looked over his shoulder at Reid and reluctantly followed his line of gaze instead.

“Do you think the stalker doesn’t consider her worthy either?”

“No, it’s the exact opposite,” the genius muttered miserably, scratching his forehead, equally frustrated.

“Talk to me, Reid. What does that mean? Why do you think she’s a target?” Emily pressed, encouraging.

“It’s obvious-“

“Pretend it’s not, Boy Wonder,” Tony sassed him, for once speaking the words Steve would if the anxious lump in his throat wasn’t making it hard to even breathe.

“Sorry—you said that about a week ago, there was an article about you two,” Reid started, pointing to somewhere before the beginning of the timeline they had built and Steve automatically nodded. What did that- “That was probably the secondary trigger, though we still need to find the initial stressor. Anyway, the public thinks you’re dating and even your co-workers think you’re in love – and I can’t exactly blame them.”

Steve could hear Tony’s smirk, but he didn’t give a shit at the moment. It only added insult to the injury now that Steve almost kissed you – because he then let you walk out of the lobby only to find out this.

“Six days later, she receives an envelope with pictures of you. Not her, you.”

Jaws of guilt biting into his stomach at the single word: him.

You might be in danger and it was on him.

“We thought that the stalker made a mistake,” Steve said quietly, swallowing hard and feeling like a stupid little boy. “The mailmen messed it up plenty times.”

“That is not likely,” Hotch sighed. “This stalker seems incredibly meticulous, she’d know.”

“Exactly.”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists as Reid once again reached for his phone, trying to call you; with no avail, judging by his clenched jaw.

“Okay, let’s say I buy that,” Tony jumped in after yet another failed attempt. “But why take pictures of Cap if…?”

“It’s true that it’s more common to take pictures of the victim, but the unsub could have thousands of pictures of Jones we don’t know about. However, she received these 23. And in every single one of these, Steve is talking to another woman,” Reid explained. “Smiling at her, shaking her hand, possibly looking like he’s giving her his number-“

“I’m not-“ Steve defended himself lamely, but Reid only shook his head.

“They see what they want to see, fit it into their narrative. Truth is not important to them.”

“Not if they’re in love with her and want to protect her,” Hotch added, realization evident on his face.

“In love? With her?” Tony parroted, still puzzled.

Steve wasn’t; not anymore. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, creating a horror image of you and him. Him, secretly enjoying the attention you showered him with, your protectiveness over him, your persistence – leading to you both missing an essential clue.

Of course the stalker was in love with you; you were impossible not to fall for. Steve would know.

God, he was such an idiot.

“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner!” Reid exclaimed, genuinely outraged on his supposed stupidity. “That’s what we’ve been missing. The photos were an act of service of sorts.”

“They say look how he’s with other women. He’ll hurt you eventually, he’ll cheat on you,” Emily continued, having tuned to Reid’s thought process.

“Yeah, exactly. And think about the flowers and the note. I’m sorry I scared you into hiding. I could hurt people who are not worthy of you, if necessary, but I would never hurt you. They were saying more than we thought---- I could hurt people who are not worthy of you. They are actually able to hurt Steve because they have the bullets. I really think we’ve been looking at it all wrong.”

They all were; you were. And it was a fatal mistake that might cost you your life.

Steve had to swallow the bile rising up his throat at Emily’s astonished face, his nails digging into his palms to relieve the tension. Why was he still here, when he had fucked up and was supposed to be out there, helping Natasha-

“Oh my god,” Emily whispered, eyes flickering all over the notes, until they landed on Steve, the genuine fear only feeding the flames of Steve’s personal hell. This was on him. Your blood could be on his hands. “It’s not the women who aren’t worthy of you…”

“The unsub thinks you’re not worthy of Jones,” Reid finished ominously and for the moment, Steve couldn’t but full support the stalker’s notion of that. “She’s the one the stalker has been after all along.”

“And she just walked out of here without care for the world,” Emily said, gulping.

“She’s still by the café though and Romanoff and Barton just arrived,” Tony announced. Steve automatically strode to him to look over his shoulder, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.

Indeed, three dots were scattered around a building of what Steve assumed was the café; and he should feel relieved at that.

But he didn’t.

Because Reid called your number again and you still weren’t picking up and Natasha wasn’t calling either.

Steve took a wavering breath as he listened to the dialling tone, his acute need to just run and check on you by himself resulting in pacing, eyes flickering to the door every other second. And every time it did, he could feel Hotch’s glare on him, a silent plea and a warning.

And then finally, Tony’s phone rang.

One tap to accept; one to put Natasha on speaker.

“Stark, we have a problem,” Clint huffed into the phone, breathless. All air was sucked out of the room at once. “Pull the security footage from her route and the café, especially the alley behind the café if you can get that. We found her phone and her watch in here.”

Your watch. Your phone. The two things that contained a locator Tony used to track you down. And they were abandoned in an alley.

Dark spots danced in Steve’s vision when choked out the question he as he already knew the answer to.

“Any sign of-“

“No. She’s gone, Steve,” Natasha said, regret lacing her voice. “Jones’ gone.”

Jones’ gone, screamed a voice in Steve’s ear in echo and he let it, squeezing his eyes shut, every muscle in his body tensing, ready to fight – but there was no one to punch. Only himself. Gone, gone gone- mocked him the voice, sickeningly sweet as it whispered the endearment Steve’s lips spoke more often than your given name. Sparkles’ gone and it’s your fault.

Steve’s fists ached to punch his way through, but he couldn’t very well punch himself. So he did the second best thing.

He drove his fist into the drywall with a roar and fuck, did the sting of a breaking skin and bruised bones feel good. It almost made up for the burn of angry tears in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

I’m sorry, he whispered in his head to the smiling image of you, panting and flexing his fingers to feel the burn as if it could prove how guilty and sorry her truly felt to the imaginary you. As if that did any good.

Sparkles, I’m so fucking sorry.

→ Next part

Series masterlist // Steve Rogers masterlist // Misc masterlist

Shoutout to those who saw through my attempts at mystery (some even in prologue).

Shoutout to those who didn’t and thus made me feel like I’m not entirely predictable. OR to those who decided not to share to help me keep the others on their toes, who followed my request and marked things as a possible spoiler.

Cough cough Dead Poets Society reference cough. I was so excited about the ‘Steven Grant Rogers… are you jealous of my friends’ moment 🥺 One of the first things I wrote for this series, so I hope you enjoyed 💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #former bau agent reader #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #bau agent reader #criminal minds #love on the brain #anika ann

177 notes · View notes

bubblesuga · 2 years

Text

Matlida

Summary: Your house isn't the same. Namjoon wants to help you rebuild it.

Genre: fluff

W/C: 2.8k

A/N: Song #3 from my Harry's House series. If you want a better feel for the fic, I suggest listening to Matlida. :D

There's a crack in the foundation.

When you were little, you built a pretty house in your mind. It had a stone walk way that lead up to a gorgeous deep purple door. The surrounding walls were made of brick because you heard that brick was the one material that the big bad wolf couldn't blow down. On top of the door is a window that allows the perfect view of the pretty field filled with sunflowers when you stood perfectly on your tip toes. The door has grown with you, the whole house has.

Having used this house as an escape for most of your life, you never felt guilty for having it. Your parents were there, just not there for you. So, this house served as the place where you could finally feel accepted and loved. Your mother would ask why you spend all your days in your room when you could be out doing something with your life but she would never understand. The house only grew to fruition in your mind because of the constant lack of attention you received from your family. You were always the one sitting quietly at the dinner table, pushing around your food while your family spoke about anything and everything. That was, arguably, the easiest part of your childhood. In fact you basked in the lack of attention because it left you free to do what you wished. Well, that's what you told yourself to cope with the fact that your mother forgot about your existence regularly and your father used to put cigarettes out on your arms.

Inside the scenery changed from toys and your favorite snacks when you were a kid, to a comfortable living room once you reached your 20s. When you walk through the house you're greeted with a wall full of books, your favorite song playing gently in the background, and your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, sitting peacefully against the window sill while he reads The Festival of Insignifcance by Milan Kundera. A personal favorite book of yours, and no matter how many times he tries to say that The Unbearable Lightness of Being is the superior book, he's still reading yours.

A part of your soul is connected to the man on the window sill. You can't quite remember when exactly your heart decided to leap from the sunflowers into a pool full of Namjoon's unbridled attention, but you dragged him along with you and placed him neatly in your house that has now taken the forefront of your mind.

And it's cracking.

It's a small crack that you first noticed a month ago when Namjoon had began working later and your mother send you a text out of the blue.

Your subconscious had been nagging you for a while before then. You pushed her to the back of your mind and tried your best to ignore here but she just kept coming back.

Why is he working late so much?

Do you think he's sleeping with someone at his work?

Does he still love you?

The crack began to grow shortly afterward. The sunny field in front of your house turned a dull grey and your window sill now lacked your boyfriend, but instead had a tattered copy of your favorite book.

"Hey darling," Namjoon's voice breaks you out of your head and you're brought back to your apartment where there isn't a window sill or a giant bookshelf, "I will be working late again. We're so close to a breakthrough. Go ahead and eat dinner without me."

You're not sure when you answered the phone, but you manage to respond softly to him, "Would you like me to save you some of whatever I make?"

You can hear Namjoon's smile, "Definitely. You're the best cook."

click.

Tossing your phone onto the couch, you run a hand through your hair and sniffle while you watch the clouds slip passed as the sun begins to set.

Namjoon hasn't been shady. Far from it, in fact. You believe that he's working a lot because you don't know how else you afford such a nice apartment. When he graduated, he refused to have his parent's help anymore but he still wanted to live in comfortable luxery. That's why when your subconscious shoves her ugly face into your mind, you do your best to suppress.

Namjoon came along when you were 18 and living above the ramen shop you worked at. It was cheap rent and free meals, and it got you away from your parents.

He came from this wealthy family that paid for his college and pushed him into science. He was in his senior year and felt he needed to go on a trip of enlightenment. Experience things he had never experienced before and that began with hand made noodles and miso pork broth that you happened to be making that evening.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

And the sunflowers bloomed.

He took you on dates, he kissed you on the third, and you made love on the fifth. You're comfortable in saying that you made love because it was the first time you had felt complete. Not because of the actual sex but because Namjoon cradled you close, pushed your hair from your face, and kissed you like you were the one breathing life into his lungs.

You awoke hours later to a dark and still empty apartment.

You checked your phone, seeing a few notifications and one text from Namjoon simply stating that he loved you. You glower at your subconscious as she yells in the back of your mind that he's just feeling guilty for cheating on you and sends you a text to ease his own mind.

Although you haven't seen your parents since you left at 17, you still sense their influence. You know that, logically, Namjoon would never hurt you. He loves you just as much as you love him and he puts all his energy into this relationship. Your arguments are swift and slim, easily talked out which is something you never experienced at your house. You were used to being shut out. To silence being the normal indicator that everything was falling apart. Namjoon was just so...calm. He wanted to communicate with you and talk through your problems.

So, when you got that text message from your mother saying that she saw who you were dating on Instagram, you were ruined.

"He's too good for you," the text message read, "no one loves you, _____. He's only using you for his image."

Could he be? Could that be why he insists on showing you off? Kissing you in public and introducing you to everyone he knows?

Keys jingle and you're ripped from your stormy house.

"Babe? I'm home!"

Fuck. You haven't made dinner yet.

Panicking, you start to grab things out of the cupboard and put water in a pan to make it seem like you were just about to start cooking. You pull out some meat from the freezer just as Namjoon rounds the corner.

"Hey, hey!" he takes in your panicked state and puts his hands on your shoulders, "what's going on?"

You jump when his hands land on you and you flip around, your heart pounding while Namjoon looks down at you with concerned eyes. You take a moment to process what he said as your heart rate steadily declines.

Shaking, you straighten your posture and push your hair away from your eyes while exhaling, "Just trying to get your dinner done."

"Oh, baby," Namjoon laughs, pulling you to his chest, "I'm not worried. I don't expect you to have dinner on the table for me by the time I'm off."

Sniffling, you look up through your eyelashes, "I just didn't want to disappoint you."

Namjoon swallows and pulls you away just far enough to meet your eyes, "You could never disappoint me."

His words ring through your head, and you close your eyes, seeing the pouring rain outside your house turn into a dull sprinkle.

"Come on. Let's go get some burgers or something. I feel like eating unhealthy tonight anyway." Namjoon says, grabbing your hand and guiding you to the front door.

~*~*~

"I tried to stop him but of course he walked away," Namjoon throws his hands up while you cover your mouth and laugh, "then he talks to the girl with sauce all over his face. I don't know, it was worth it."

After grabbing burgers, you both decided to drive down to the beach and eat on the sand. It was a summer night so the sand beneath your feet was still warm though the sun set hours ago. Namjoon started to tell you a story of his coworker, Jimin, who was notorious in his flirting.

"So what did the girl say?" you ask after swallowing the rest of your burger.

He looks down and closes his blinks tightly with a big grin, "She asked him if he had any noodles to go with his sauce."

You collapse into a fit of giggles while you imagine Jimin's face afterwards. Namjoon didn't even have to tell you how he reacted because you know you have seen that exact reaction.

Shortly after you and Namjoon started dating, Jimin came with Namjoon to the ramen bar. Jimin proceeds to say that you are gorgeous but he has to keep an eye out for 'the girl that namjoonie-hyung is seeing.'

When you said that you were that girl, Jimin lost it. He laughed with the same shocked face you imagine he had towards the woman, told you that you were too pretty for Namjoon and Namjoon sat idly beside him with a blush on his cheeks. So you did what any girl would do at that point, and you pulled him forward and kissed him right there. In front of everyone.

Your phone dings and Namjoon grabs it before you can. He unlocks it and stares at your phone, his eyes hardening as he reads.

"Is it her?" you flinch as you ask because you know the answer.

Namjoon doesn't answer. He only tightens his jaw.

It's amazes you how quickly the mood can shift. You're right back in your empty house, and thunder is crashing around you.

"Namjoon," you whisper, "what did she say?"

Again, he doesn't answer. Instead, you see his thumb begin to scroll upward at the rest of the messages your mother has been sending you. His anger begins to decrease and it's replaced with sadness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's voice is so quiet. If you hadn't have seen his lips move you would be convinced that you had imagined his words. You've never seen him look this defeated and worn down, especially as quickly as it's happened just now.

You inhale deeply, looking down at your hands. As much as you wished Namjoon didn't see those messages, you know that it's better that he found out. Shame is still evident in the back of your mind because you should have told him.

"She started sending me these messages shortly after I moved out. Mostly when she realized she wouldn't have an emotional punching bag anymore." Reaching forward, you grab your phone out of Namjoon's hand and scroll to the bottom of the thread where there are 3 new messages.

I hope you're happy with your new life. I hope you know he probably only thinks of you as a maid.

I can't believe that you don't care about how much your father and I are suffering! Do you ever think about your family? Are we discarded by you now?

I can see you reading these, _____. Stop being a coward and respond to your mother.

"Fuck," you toss your head back sigh, feeling tears pricking your eyes, "I didn't ever want you to see these."

"Is this why you never talk about your family?"

Sniffling, you meet his eyes and nod, "She, uh, didn't care about me when I was there and when I leave I'm suddenly the only person she wants to talk to."

Namjoon reaches forward and holds your hand. His grip is soft, inviting. You want to crawl into his arms but you keep your distance, wondering if he's angry that he was never told about this part of your life. You knew everything about his, you should have fucking told him.

"This isn't what family does," Namjoon strokes your knuckles with his thumb, "she's not your family."

You laugh bitterly, "Oh, but she is. Blood is thicker than water, so they say."

Namjoon shakes his head. You hate seeing him like this. You hate feeling pitied. Namjoon seems to sense what you're feeling, because he changes his posture and tightens his grip on your hand, "Give me your phone, love."

You raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

Namjoon mirrors your earlier actions and snatches it from your hand, "We're going to respond to her."

"What?! No! We can't-"

"_____, I love you. You are the light of my life and the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life," Namjoon says, "But right now I want you to shut up and take a nice picture with me."

Namjoon pulls you close to him, resting his forehead against yours. "I- I'm scared." you breathe.

He only smiles, "Don't be." and he presses a gentle and loving kiss to your lips. Then, you hear the shutter snap.

You twist your neck quickly towards the phone, watching Namjoon pull it away and type away, before slipping it into his back pocket. Your confusion is wiped away when Namjoon puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses you slow. The kiss is sweet and soft and fills your heart with a sense of safety. Yes, this is safe. This is where you're supposed to be. You're not supposed to be worried about the past and wondering if you'll ever have a relationship with your parents.

Namjoon pulls away, his hands staying planted on your cheeks, "You don't have to feel guilty for leaving and growing up. You are an amazing woman and you don't deserve this."

He doesn't wait for a response before he's kisses you again and continues, "We can make our own family. You're my family and I'm yours."

You can feel hot tears dripping down your cheeks as your eyes fall shut. The best part of Namjoon is that he doesn't question you when you're in the house. It's almost as if he can see it too. As you see it now, the crack is sealed over. Namjoon stands beneath it in blue overalls with a painters spatula in his hand. He turns around to you and waves, a spot of white paint on his cheek.

"Can you see it?" You decide to ask, feeling thumbs trace the line where your tears had fallen.

"See what?"

"The house. It's sunny now."

Namjoon chuckles, "What house?"

You don't respond. You only allow your head to fall onto Namjoon's shoulder. He holds you close, pressing small kisses across your head. In that moment, everything falls back into place. When you look out of the window, the sunflowers are back. Namjoon is back on the window sill, and everything is okay.

The house is no longer an escape from the present, but rather a path to the future. Namjoon is your future, your family, your best friend. He is everything you need all wrapped up into one.

"Let's get home," Namjoon whispers, "I want to cuddle and watch our show. Yeah?"

You pull back and smile, "Of course."

When you manage to get your phone back from Namjoon, you open instagram and see one sent message from your account to your mother. In the message, is the picture Namjoon took of the two of you. Your lips are against his and both of you have smiles on your faces. Even though your hair is a mess and Namjoon's tie is undone, you both look the happiest you have ever been. Underneath the picture, Namjoon sent one last message.

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. She's my family now.

Glancing towards Namjoon, your lips turn up into a smirk, "What does this mean?"

Namjoon shrugs, "A covenant is a sort of agreement. So, our agreement is stronger than her DNA inside you will ever be."

"What's our agreement?" you wonder aloud.

Namjoon turns towards you and winks, "An agreement to be together in sickness and in health, forever or until death do us part."

#namjoon #kim namjoon #bts #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader fluff #bts x reader fluff

123 notes · View notes