#school queue

Stupid, stupid, stupid!!!!! What the hell was I thinking?!?! I could've gotten the help I needed!!! That was my only chance to escape!!!! I'm so stupid!

They held their breath as they crept closer to Hero’s house, trying to push away the voice in their head which screamed at them not to go back. Maybe Villain was still there? Maybe, but it was too late. They couldn't chance their luck.

They climbed up the wall once more and entered their dark room quietly. They did it. They actually did something behind Hero’s back. Oh… they were a terrible person! How could they have done this!?!?!

They yelped as the light of their bedroom turned on and Hero sat on the edge of Sidekick’s plain mattress, “Care to explain yourself?” Hero’s cold tone sent a shiver of fear down Sidekick’s spine, “H-Hero I-”

“No, no, no, I don't want to hear your stupid stuttering! Jesus- you’d break in a matter of seconds in an interrogation! I went through millions of torturous interrogations in my life and not once have I broken! Now, I want to know where you were and I want to know, now.”

Sidekick gulped, planning their sentence out so they wouldn't tell too much and they wouldn't stutter, “I-I just-” they flinched at their mistake but took Hero’s silence as a ‘go ahead’ “- there’s this building- abandoned building- I used to go to since I was a child as my escape place-s-” oh no, oh no no no no.

“Escape place? Escape place???” Sidekick flinched, “I-I didn't mean it like that!!!!! I-” “No, no, I think you did! I think you meant exactly what you said!”

“Well maybe if you actually let me talk for once you’d know what I meant!!” Sidekick yelled before fully realizing what they had just said. They took a step backwards as Hero looked at them with a shocked, murderous expression.

It took a moment for Hero to say something. They slowly closed their mouth and spoke, “Well, if you think I never let you talk, go ahead.”

“Wh-what?”

“Go. Ahead. Go and tell me what you truly meant.”

Sidekick’s mouth moved but no words came out.

“That's what I thought,” Hero snarled before grabbing Sidekick by the hair and dragging them down two flights of stairs to the- “NO!!! Not the basement!!!!!!! PLEASE HERO!!!!”

“Oh will you shut it, I'm not going to miss that fucking voice of yours!”

They were quickly thrown down the stairs of the basement and the door locked, leaving Sidekick lying in the cold, dark basement.

A few days passed and Hero was alerted about another one of Villain’s crimes. “Where’s Sidekick?” Villain asked, surprising Hero. their eyebrows furrowed, “Why do you want to know?” Villain gulped but just shrugged, “Dunno, just wondering, they normally show up.”

“Well the best is here, now, let's fight. Or, would you rather just give up before it's too late and hand yourself in. it will be a lot less painful for you.” Villain faked a smile which they soon dropped, “How kind of you to offer, but I’d never hand myself in like that.”

“That's what I was hoping you’d say.”

They both pounced on each other and their usual routine went on.

Once Villain was back in their lair, Henchmen knocked on the door and came in, “Any luck?” Villain sighed and shook their head, “They didn't even show up today. I'm worried Henchman, I really am.” Henchman placed their hand on Villain’s shoulder and smiled, “I know you are, I am too. But we’ll find a way to help. No matter what it takes.” Villain just nodded, not trusting themselves to talk.

They’ll find some way. They had to.

---

Emily Prentiss x Reader

Angst because I started listening to angsty music for no reason. 

Note: Season 6 spoilers!!!! Not my gif

Warnings: probably swearing

“She never made it off the table.” JJ looked sympathetically at you, but you couldn’t look up, your head in your hands. The team was quiet as they got back into the SUVs and made your way back to the airstrip. Hotch and Rossi sat stoically in the front seats, trying not to let Spencer and your crying get to them. 

The plane ride back to the DC was even quieter. Spencer went to sleep and the rest of the team sat staring into space. You, however, sat looking out the window with tears in your eyes. You couldn’t help but think about what you’d done wrong. What you could have done to save her. She was your girlfriend and you couldn’t believe you hadn’t been able to help her. Just help her. 

So you guys know now that I’m a full time teacher, right?

On top of that I am: a part time piano teacher/science tutor, pathfinders associate director, fitness junkie, masterguides member, church pianist, and a devoted girlfriend. These seven things mean- I don’t get a day off. Ever.

I wake up at 4:30 AM to be at the gym by 5, leave home for work by 6:40, and I’m home from everything by as late as 7:50 pm. As soon as I get home I have an hour or two to unwind and eat dinner- then sleep. Rinse and repeat. Saturdays I have church, pathfinders- and maybe a break. Sundays is a day I can maybe sleep in, but then I go to work in the afternoons.

It’s hard. Yesterday was rough, so that means I forgot to eat- and the stuff that I ate was terrible, so my lifts this morning were ALSO terrible.

There are some things that just defy explanation or verbalization. Sunsets, snowstorms, oceans, the sensation of feeling and hearing the vibrations from every living thing and being able to touch that connection.

And, you know, Jemma Simmons.

She’d thought it would be easy. It had seemed like a great idea, perfect, something cute and sweet and simple and just for the two of them when they stood up in front of everyone that meant something to them, putting rings on each others fingers.

But, damn it, writing a vow is hard.

Daisy has a crazy headache, about twenty sheets of crumpled paper and a limited amount of time to get this right before she doesn’t have any time at all.

And how is she supposed to stand up there facing Jemma and have nothing to whisper to her before they get married?

Not a great way to start a marriage.

Daisy groans, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. It’s not her fault! Really! Jemma is indescribable, she defies words, phrases, poems, sonnets. The best couplets could never do her justice. The world’s most perfect words would fail to portray Jemma and what she means to Daisy, how she makes her feel, how lucky she is to have her…

Well, maybe she’s on to something after all…

The slamming of the front door manages to bring Jemma back to the present and she feels groggy and disoriented, like she’s woken up from a long nap instead of been distracted from the work spread out around her. She blinks, squinting her eyes and glancing over her shoulder. The clock on the microwave informs her, a bit judgmentally, that it’s after five. In the afternoon. Jemma sets aside the scalpel that she’s been using, stretching out her fingers and rolling her neck and shoulders. Her body is a little unhappy with her right now.

“Jemma?” Daisy calls from the hallway and Jemma hears the tell-tale sign of boots hitting the floor and not being put in their proper place. “What’s that smell?”

Guiltily, Jemma looks toward the work that she’s got spread out on the kitchen table. She’d fully intended to go into the lab today but it had seemed so much easier to have one of the students from the lab bring the specimens to her apartment. It had certainly made sense at the time. When Jemma hadn’t intended to spend the entire day pouring of paperwork, specimens and slides. When she hadn’t intended to still be at it when Daisy came home.

Quickly Jemma shucks her lab coat and gloves, hurrying out of the kitchen to meet Daisy in the entryway and stop her before she can catch her red-handed.

“Hello,” Jemma grins as she slips her arms around Daisy’s shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss, “how was your day?”

Daisy kisses her in return, fitting her hand against the small of her back. “No one died.” The tone of her voice almost makes Jemma wonder if this is a common occurrence or a figure of speech. She kisses Jemma again before looking at her dubiously. “Seriously. What is that? And why are you acting strange?”

“I’m not acting strange.” Jemma protests quickly, tightening her grip on Daisy to keep her from stepping out the embrace. “I’m just happy to see you.”

Daisy looks dubious and Jemma scoffs. “Should I be offended?” She asks. “Am I not normally happy to see you?”

“I’m used to the distracted kiss on the cheek and papers spread all over the couch.” Daisy remarks, her tone only slightly teasing.

Jemma isn’t entirely sure that she can argue with that particular comment. “Well…”

Suddenly Daisy’s eyes narrow in suspicion and Jemma has a feeling that the jig it up. Daisy slips away from her, stepping toward the kitchen. Jemma winces, quickly hurrying after Daisy.

“Jemma.” Daisy’s voice is terse as she looks at their kitchen table. “Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”

Jemma looks at the specimens on the table, the pieces that she’s carefully removed from the whole and set around on various slides and metal pans and wax paper. “Okay…” She purses her lips. “I won’t tell you…”

Daisy just rolls her eyes, looking back toward Jemma. “Again?”

Jemma gives her what she hopes is a beguiling smile. “Well, last time, it was the liver and this time it's…not technically…human body parts…anymore…”

"Normally our positions are reversed, you know."

"I know. Isn't it ironic?"

"I hope you aren't going to take the opportunity to seek a little payback."

Daisy looks appropriately offended by the comment. "I would never! Though it is a little tempting. I mean, Dr. Simmons is pretty pokey."

Jemma huffs out a breath, ready to defend her honor, but she immediately regrets the simple act of breathing and winces. The smile disappears from Daisy's face and her brow furrows and she steps forward. Her hand hovers just above Jemma's side, desperate for contact but afraid to actually press skin to shirt fabric.

"Well someone needs to get you patched up." Daisy says decisively. "And Bobbi is busy so I guess you're stuck with me."

Jemma manages a smile, weak and strained and Daisy tries to pretend like she doesn't notice the way that she's gritting her teeth. "I should be all right." She protests. "It feels mostly like bruising, maybe a small fracture…not much we can do for those anyway."

Daisy narrows her eyes. "You aren't really making me feel better here, Jem." She remarks. "Fractured ribs sound pretty serious."

For a moment, Jemma starts to shrug. She catches herself pretty quickly. "I'm not sure, of course. And we don't have time to do a full medical diagnosis; we have more important things to attend to."

She starts to move but Daisy holds up her hand, placing it gently on Jemma's shoulder. "Not more important than you." She says softly.

Jemma's expression hovers between grateful and annoyed. "There isn't much we can do." She points out again. "I will be fine. I can wait."

Daisy shakes her head. "And you said I was stubborn." She mumbles. "Look, I might not have two degrees in biochemistry but I think I can handle putting a few Band-aids on those cuts."

Since she set eyes on Jemma, Daisy feels like her eyes have been drawn to the injuries that she can actually see on her. The gash on her forehead, the bruise blooming across her cheek, the speckles of blood that peek out from beneath her shirt collar. She keeps staring at these things with the same ferocity that she feels when tracing the curve of Jemma's nose with her eyes or how she can't help but watch the rise and fall of her chest. Fitz is gone but Jemma is still here, centimeters away and she's selfishly grateful for the turn of events that took him but spared Jemma. Of course she feels guilty for thinking it but it doesn't change the relief.

Jemma sighs, another sound that Daisy is grateful for. These are the sounds of her still alive and here.

"Fine." Jemma grumbles and she shifts like she wants to pout or cross her arms over her chest but the aching in her bones won't let her.

Daisy rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you'll survive, Dr. Simmons."

The field med kit is hardly impressive, though Daisy figures that it's better than nothing. Honestly, she wishes that she had some bubble wrap that she could just tuck Jemma into but she knows Jemma well enough to know that she would never abide being hidden away, kept on the top shelf. They've had this argument before, framed like playful bickering to hide their fear for one another's safety. They just aren't built for staying out of the line of fire, as frustrating as that is.

Jemma presents herself for doctoring, sitting stoic as Daisy swabs her split skin and bruises with alcohol. Daisy tightens her jaw, grinding her teeth together. Ward. This is all his fault. If only she'd been a better aim with the gun that time…but that's not entirely true, of course. She could have easily put the bullet where it mattered but she'd been afraid. And now Jemma is hurt and Fitz is gone and she could have stopped all of this.

"I'm sorry." Daisy says, lifting her eyes to meet Jemma's. "Jemma…I…I'm sorry."

Jemma looks at her, surprised. "Why are you apologizing?" She asks. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

That is an oversimplification that Daisy wishes could be true. "I should have gone with you and Fitz. I should have…" She shakes her head, tossing the bloody alcohol wipe aside. "If I had been there…I could have done something. I could have stopped Ward from hurting you."

Jemma puts a hand over her own, a soft and gentle touch that Daisy loves. She longs for it in her sleep, a ghosting touch when Jemma reaches for her in dreams; she longs for it while they kiss, the twist of her fingers in her hair.

"This isn't your fault, Daisy." Jemma says and there's a sharpness in her voice that Daisy knows isn't directed toward her. "This is all Ward's fault. And mine. Ward knew how to use me against Fitz."

Daisy scoffs. "Yeah, Ward is pretty good at that." She mumbles. "But Jemma…if Ward had taken you back there…or done something to hurt you…" She tightens her fingers into her palm, pressing her nails to skin.

"I keep telling you that I'm fine." Jemma tells her. "Especially now that I'm in the hands of such a talented doctor."

She's teasing her and Daisy rolls her eyes because she knows that's what Jemma wants. It only figures that Jemma is trying to make her feel better when she's the one suffering from the bodily injuries.

They lapse into silence as Daisy finishes cleaning her visible injuries, gently pressing Band-aids over them and smoothing them down. Her fingers linger, gently, a hovering touch, still unwilling to be the cause of any more hurt. If only they were miles away from all of this; she might not able to wrap Jemma in bubble wrap and hide her away from the world but maybe they could both hide away for a while underneath the covers at some fancy hotel.

At Daisy's command, Jemma lifts up the bottom of her shirt, showing Daisy the nasty bruises that spread across the curve of her ribs toward her stomach. Daisy narrows her eyes. "I'm going to kill Ward."

"Later. First we have to get Fitz back and make sure nothing else comes through that portal."

Jemma winces when the tips of Daisy's fingers brush across her skin. "I'm sorry." Daisy pulls her hand away quickly. "I didn't-"

Jemma reaches for her hand, threading their fingers together. "Stop." She says softly. "This isn't your fault. I'm fine. I'm here."

Daisy leans forward, burying her face against the crook of Jemma's neck, letting her nose bump against soft skin and scratchy bandage. Jemma smells like sweat and fear and shampoo and Daisy's own soap, stolen from the shower that morning. Or yesterday. Daisy can't keep it all straight anymore.

She wants to hold Jemma, to pull her close, but she's too afraid to do more damage. Instead, she just presses a soft kiss to her neck and then lifts her head. "We'll get Fitz back."

"I know." Jemma puts a hand on Daisy's shoulder, letting her eyes close and her forehead rest against Daisy's. "I know. I just…I feel like our friendship has been quite dangerous for him."

Daisy smirks at her when Jemma opens her eyes. "Don't say that. He just loves you. And so do I."