A Confederacy Of Script

25. The Netherlands. Dedicated to all my drabbles and writing.

[aconfederacyofscript]

Anonymous asked: Skimmons: Skye describes her ideal man to the team. It’s a surprisingly accurate description of Jemma.

[aconfederacyofscript]

“So, tell us then, Skye? You’re up.”

“Why, it’s not as if it’s very interesting,” Skye counters, a frown settling between her brows. She didn’t like this ‘game’ they were playing. It was stupid, and she didn’t feel like ‘describing her ideal man’ to the team. It was pointless. It was like truth or dare; except a random question was thrown to the table and everyone had to answer.

“Aw, c’mon. We all went,” Bobbi teases and Skye rolls her eyes. “We all know Hunter is your ideal man, or Thor. So that doesn’t really count, right.”

Bobbi huffs, but leaves it at that.

“Simmons didn’t tell us,” Fitz quips. Jemma glares at him and he raises his hands in defence. Skye laughs. “See.”

Keep reading

[aconfederacyofscript]

Hey ! I don't know if you take requests but if you do could we have a sad fic where Root dies in Shaw's arms. Something like their last conversation please ? Sorry I know it's not a happy one but I'd like it please :)

I accidentally switched them. Sorry. Also sorry for all this. Yeah.

________

It hurts, but Shaw knows this kind of pain. The lightning in her lungs and fire down her spine have almost become familiar. It doesn’t even surprise her. It shouldn’t. Not with the way she always finds herself in the crossfire, bullets whizzing past her body, knuckles colliding with cheekbones, teeth stained with blood, and split lips.

It’s the type of pain that knocks the breath right out of you, that makes feeling anything else nearly impossible. It’s the pain that comes with blood that leaves stains on your hardwood floors, curdles under your nails and runs red in your sink. The blood that’s seeping through fingers and drenching fabric. Sticky. Wet. Cold.

She knows it all too well, but she sort of promised. She sort of promised Root that if anything, that maybe someday they would talk about it. That maybe someday there wouldn’t be that eyeroll and sigh. That maybe someday Root could just grin and tell her ‘see, you do care’, and Shaw would just shrug with a sense of maybe, the truth readable in her eyes.

“Shaw?” Root’s voice crackles to life, the connection nearly static when Shaw takes a little while to answer.

And Shaw feels that this is maybe someday. That this is the point where they get on. That, even though the wall they’re bound to crash into with splintered bones and tears and black bruises is rapidly nearing, that today is maybe someday. That if she doesn’t tell, or show Root now, more than ever, that she will never know. That there will always be a part of her wondering. She would never get out of her head. She would never not have that adrenaline rush, the blood thirst. The ache for revenge.

“I’m here.” Her blood stained hand slips on the door as she nearly tumbles inside, leaving a mark that Root wouldn’t wipe off. She’d rather put in a new door, hoping to hold onto something that was still Shaw.

Shaw coughs, spitting out some blood, her teeth stained, her lip split, but with raging dedication in her tired eyes.

She looks awful, all tired eyes and sore body, bleeding, bruised, but Root knows better than to ask. Right now isn’t the time for a ‘don’t you look amazing today, Sameen’ in hopes of getting a rise out of her, risking getting smacked against a concrete wall and all else that might follow. Right now is about time slipping away with the blood drops, about making amends, about saying things left unsaid, even though Shaw always fumbles for words and Root… She never knew any other way to speak but bluntly.

“I got you.” Root kicks the door closed while carrying Shaw inside, blood drops drying in their wake. The frequency of them makes the hairs on the back of Root’s neck stand up. A sickly worry trickles through her body, she and Shaw knowing well enough that this… She doesn’t even want to think about it. But she does. She knows the various occasions on which Shaw would scoff and try to teach her a thing or two about medicine, because it 'might save your life sometime’, because she knows that even with all that knowledge in her head, combined with Shaw’s it’s staring at something that is going to tear them apart.

“Shaw…” Root whispers, laying her on the floor because this shitty loft has no furniture and she is too tired to go any further. “I’m so sorry I left you there.”

Root rolls her eyes up when they water, but Shaw grabs onto her hand with a sticky stubbornness that gets a light chuckle out of her. “This is it, right?”

She doesn’t know whether to be angry, to pick up her arms and fight, to find the one that put a bullet in Shaw and make them pay, or to wait it out quietly, to let the tidal waves break against her ribcage and be calm. She feels both, the pair of them a dangerous cocktail. A flash of lightning over a bright sky.

“It really fucking hurts,” Shaw manages, barely, her hand still trying to stop the bleeding but they both know it’s effortless when they look at it. It’s pointless, which might be the most frustrating part.

Sitting there.

Useless.

Their AI is quiet and so is the dusky apartment. It’s no longer a matter of do or die, sinking had been chosen over swimming, the question left being how long it takes to drown. The blood spills so fast, Shaw’s breathing is so shallow, and Root can just sit there with a broken half-smile on her face that says nothing and everything.

“That’s good. That means we have time,” Root says, drawing Shaw’s trembling form into her lap and running her fingers through her hair like she has done countless times before. Lazily, in the five AM cocoon of the queen sized bed, that always is too big for them. Hungrily against the walls of shot up kitchens and broken down living rooms. Comforting, like now.

That they have time doesn’t mean they spend it wisely. Root is quiet. Serene, almost, as if she has accepted Shaw’s faith, and with that her own. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. She would scream, if it would save Shaw. Shaw, whose curled up hand leaves a bloody mark on the shirt she’s wearing. Shaw, who would roll her eyes and kiss her if she would say anything she didn’t quite know how to respond to. Shaw, who always came back for her… to her, bleeding, bruised and battered.

“Hey…” Root whispers and wipes a tear from the corner of Shaw’s eye. She knows it’s the pain, her body fighting desperately to patch wounds and heal cuts and fix leaks. To stay with her. To stretch. To pull the last strings, because if there ever was a time they needed help or divine intervention, it was now. Root wants to smile, but she doesn’t know if she can. If she ever will be able to again.

“Hey Sameen, stay with me. I’m not ready…” she whispers, her voice almost breaking, and wipes her cheek on her own shoulder while rocking them back and forth slowly.

Shaw just breathes quietly, carefully. The only time Root saw peace on her face like this was when she was asleep besides her, knowing that she was safe. Safer than she’d be elsewhere. Safer with Root.

“Root…” Shaw says after a shaky inhale. She licks her tongue over her teeth and tugs with her hand on the shirt she’s still holding, “please kiss me.”

So she does, because how could Root resist a request like that in any given circumstance, let alone now. Shaw had breathed it in her ear countless times before, written it in her skin with needy teeth and fingernails, claimed it with tongue, and soft lips that now taste stained with blood. Like iron and defeat.

Root lingers, her nose trailing the slope of Shaw’s. She swallows, her hand coming up to cover Root’s, who’s still cupping her face with a gentleness she didn’t think she possessed.

“Hey Root. Take care of Bear for me okay.”

Root sniffs and shakes her head, laughing. “God, of course. I promise.”

Shaw offers her a half-smile, her face distorting when she shuffles a final time. “I’m sorry,” Shaw says, her voice hoarse and hushed, clinging onto Root even tighter.

“Don’t be. At least we got to steal that jet.” Root smiles down at her with that wicked silly smile and presses her lips against Shaw’s forehead.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” Shaw whispers and exhales deeply, the frown that rippled her forehead gone, the tense slipping from her muscles.

“Sam, I…”

“I know. Me too.”

[aconfederacyofscript]

"Will you marry me?" Shoot. But could you make it so that Root is being asked by a number and Shaw overhears it. Ending is up to you. Thanks.

Shaw had been listening to the conversation for well over an hour. She and John had been sitting at the desk, watching the video footage that The Machine provided for them, along with the audio from Root’s earpiece.

“Shaw…” Reese warns coolly when she picks up a stapler and throws it against the wall full force, metal parts flying everywhere.

“I just can’t listen to that man for another minute,” Shaw growls, her shoulders hunched and her jaw locked.

“Root nearly has him where we want him.”

Shaw takes a deep breath and scrubs her hand over her face. “He’s too eager. I don’t trust him.”

From the corner of her eye she can see the light smirk that changes Reese’s features and she scowls.

“I need some air. You good?”

“Jealous, Shaw?”

“Shut up. Or next time it won’t be the stapler.”

Reese holds up his hands in surrender and chuckles. “Walk it off.”

When she’s outside the door, she is this close to flicking the earpiece out of her ear and leaving. She has been listening to the man gushing over Root for the last hour and Root was playing along. Of course she was. Their number was sitting across from her, and while Shaw believed just smacking his face into the table would get them the intell they needed, Root and Harold thought he’d come more willingly once seduced.

So here they were. Root in a low cut blouse and the skinniest jeans she owns, all dolled up. For him.

It pisses her off.

Shaw walks into the restaurant where they are seated, leaning against the bar and downing a shot of whiskey before turning around. She’s right in Root’s vision, who breaks eye contact with Charles Montgaulle for point two seconds to acknowledge her existence.

Shaw purses her lips, watching them. The way he leans over the table with his shabby oxford shirt all wrinkled and his upper lip shining with sweat, reaching out to touch her knee. Shaw shivers and downs another shot, the burn pleasant in her throat.

“So… What d'you say?” he says, Shaw all to familiar with the tone. Harold had been right after all. The man luring them home with false promises of the American dream, endless supplies of money and wedding bells.

Shaw pushes off the bar, rolling her shoulders. Root smiles warmly at him, and the hairs on her neck rise.

“Will you marry me?”

“I…” Root starts, but before she can finish her sentence Shaw has grabbed a handful of messy, waxy hair and slammed him with his nose down on the table. Root doesn’t flinch, merely watching the scene unfold.

“She’s taken,” Shaw growls, her eyes wild with fire.

“Hey Sweetie…” Root says, a light shimmer in her eyes and a soft smile gracing her lips.

Charles looks at them, blood dripping down his chin and onto that godawful shirt.

“She’s mine. Get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Shaw snarls and drags him out of his chair, hauling him towards the door.

“Sameen,” Root starts and Shaw whirls around. “What?!”

“Nothing… I love it when you get all jealous,” Root chimes and gets up from her chair, pulling Shaw in for a kiss that lingers too long, “… and possessive.”

“I love that you two are catching up, miss Groves, but have you acquired the information we deem important for the mission?” Finch suddenly crackles through.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” John answers, and Root laughs while waving a phone and a manilla envelope. She locks eyes with Shaw again, a wide smile cracking her face. “I got everything I need.”

[brella]

important ship tropes:

fake dating

SECRET dating

being locked in a room or trapped in a small space

huDDLING FOR WARMTH

BEING ON THE BRINK OF ADMITTING THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER BUT THEN GETTING INTERRUPTED

finishing each other’s sentences, KNOWING WHAT THE OTHER IS ABOUT TO SAY

tou chi NG!!!! FOr eheA DS!!!!!!11!!

wearing each other’s clothes

doing that thing where they accidentally get real close and, like, stare meaningfully at each other for a few seconds too long

channeling the inner romcom and having an epiphany about how much they care about each other and RACING TO CONFESS THEIR LOVE

fucking. Now or Never Kiss

HEIGHT DIFFERENCES

defending each other to scathing tertiary or otherwise minor characters but ONLY WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND

reincarnation or time loop or OOOOH TIME TRAVEL SCENARIOS

dramatically saving each other from certain death or barely surviving something that almost makes the other break down and just smirking wearily and mumbling flippant smartass remarks to HIDE THE DEPTH OF THEIR FEELINGS

undercover as lovers, the classic

ALMOST KISSING. like getting so close that they start to close their eyes and hold their breath and then SOMETHING HAPPENS and they jump apart, that is MORE VALUABLE THAN ANY ACTUAL KISSING

casually sitting on each other’s laps during ensemble cast conversations or scenes

did i mention F AKE DATinG

[luzdelunis2-deactivated20200703]

Enemies to “ugh I can’t believe I’m saving your life” to “ugh we have to work together or the world ends but it’s not like I like you or anything” to “oh we actually connect pretty well but that doesn’t mean anything” to “I would die for you but don’t read too much into it” to “I’ll kill anyone who lays a finger on you” to Lovers.

[nadiahilker]

i’m always a slut for a christmas au 

“i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside”

“i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years”

SNOWBALL FIGHTS

“hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this”

person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there????”)

“you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas”

“YES I BOOBY TRAPPED THE PRESENTS BECAUSE YOU DO THIS EVERY FUCKING YEAR”

“i live below you and i was minding my own business watching the snowfall out the window WHEN I SAW A BODY FALL ARE YOU REALLY PUTTING UP CHRISTMAS LIGHTS NOW”

I KNITTED YOU A JUMPER

MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER

“we’re strictly ‘platonic’ but we’re snowed in omg we’re gonna have to repopulate the earth”

“i slipped on ice outside your house and you ran out barefoot to help me quick let’s get inside under a blanket”

“’it’s a wonderful life’ aww it sounds so cute babe sure we can watch it! *30 mins later* “YOU MONSTER”

“we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now…we’re just…staring… at each other…”

“YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE”

TREE DECORATING (bonus points if one of them is doing it completely wrong omg why am i in love with you) 

“we took our kids to santa’s workshop and they both wished we would get together” FRIENDS AU - “our christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt i never noticed before asgdhfjgkhl” 

“we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now” 

DRUNKEN CAROLLING (”that’s not a thing” “oh yes it is”) 

TEACH ME HOW TO SKI (lol jk i know how you’re just so fucking cute)

“there’s a storm and omg i’m losing signal are you okay?? hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas” 

PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF 

“i did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad but you don’t know that the ring is in the smallest box and i can’t wait to see your face”

[aconfederacyofscript]

“Hey Sameen… What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Root asks when she steps out the bathroom clad in black skinny jeans and a white tank, running a towel through her damp hair.

“There’s this new place on 7th I wanna try. I’m hungry, and you’re coming,” Shaw says, tossing Root her jacket and shrugging on her own.

Root watches Shaw for a second. The way she casually pockets her weapons, puts her hair up in a pony tail and redoes one of the laces on her boots.

Root then puts the towel on the kitchen counter, resting her hip against it, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you coming?”

“Do you realise what day it is?” Root asks with a tiny smirk and pulls on her boots, slipping in a knife. Her eyes glimmer when Shaw cocks her head.

“Yeah. February 14th. Let’s go.”

Shaw holds the door to the apartment open and watches how Root tosses her hair back over her shoulders and sticks her gun in the back of her jeans before walking out in front of Shaw, only now putting on her leather jacket.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Sam,” Root says over her shoulder with that wicked for-you-only grin and Shaw’s eyes flash open for a split second. Root winks, “and I think you just asked me out on a date.”

Shaw purses her lips and rolls her eyes. She gently shoves Root towards the stairs and shakes her head, a little smile playing on her lips. “Keep walking, Root.”

[aconfederacyofscript]

The Sweater

Anonymous asked: Prompt: Skye and Jemma have been dating but haven’t officially told the team yet, but the team knows by the little things they do - them wearing each other’s clothes, resting their head in the others lap, etc. Skye and Jemma end up telling each person on the team that they’re dating and they’re all like “seriously? We knew. We’re happy for you” Fluffy Skimmons :)

[aconfederacyofscript]

“Jemma, we have to tell them some time,” Skye says when she rolls out of her bed late that night and tugs on her jeans. She combs her hand through her hair and smiles. “I know, but I kind of enjoy sneaking around and keeping this a secret.”

“You will eventually bump into someone at this hour. You know how strange our sleep schedules are.”

“I don’t mind. I will babble my way out of it.”

Skye snorts and stretches her hands out above her head until they meet the brick wall. “You couldn’t babble your way out of this if your life depended on it, babe.”

Keep reading

[aconfederacyofscript]

Yes! It’s here, the collab we have all been waiting for. (Let’s be honest). @tantoun and I have done a Shoot (Shaw x Root) collab. You can find the artwork HERE.

You must feel so lonely.

Harold’s words resonate through her head and Root scoffs. If Shaw taught her anything, it was that. Scoffing. At everything. Root doesn’t do lonely. She does alone, though. She does solo missions. She does sleeping alone. She does shooting people up alone. She works with Her alone. Mostly. But lonely wasn’t something that was in her vocabulary. She doesn’t need people around her per se, and as much as she appreciates a certain someone around her sometimes, she rarely goes looking for it. 

Root sets the bottle of whiskey down after pouring herself another glass. Shaw mostly drank straight from the bottle. She left them everywhere, in all of Root’s safehouses. It was one of the things she left there. Duffel bags filled with guns or a change of clothes. Or clothes in general. Root grins to herself before taking another sip. Not that she was around now to finish the drinks. So Root might as well, the warm burn in her throat making her feel just that little bit closer to her.

Keep reading

[aconfederacyofscript]

Buy Me a Drink?

Honestly, when Zoe Morgan's voice sounded through the phone, Shaw didn't really know what to say. First because she hadn't heard from New York's finest fixer in ages, secondly because of what she was proposing,

"Sameen?" her voice is crystal clear and calm.

"Sure," Shaw manages to croak after another beat of silence. "Who else is coming?"

Zoe lets out a soft laugh. "Carter. But give me a name and I'll see what I can do."

It was not even a strange proposition Zoe was making. Just the last time she invited Shaw for drinks, they ended up somewhere downtown Manhattan, carrying nothing but a gun in their purses.

"I'm good. Text me the address.

-

Shaw doesn't really understand why she feels a little worked up of a sudden. Maybe it's the stress of the week catching up on her, the fact that she hasn't been sleeping a lot with little time to recover and catch her bearings.

She probably just needed a drink or two, and she'd be her old self. Maybe she just misses Root, but there was no way in hell she would ask Zoe Morgan to invite the hacker to accompany them to this women's bar.

The clock shows it's closer to nine than eight thirty, and when Shaw's phone buzzes on the table, she realises it's time to get herself out of this white tank top and into something a little more fit for the occasion.

Later, when she hauls a cab and gives him the address, she knows her outfit is a success. She guy can barely keep his eyes on the road. Shaw smirks to herself, not allowing herself to cause a scene, simply keeping her eyes trained on the asphalt skidding by next to the car.

"Ms. Shaw," Zoe says as soon as her cab pulls up and her feet are out of the car.

"Ms. Morgan..." her eyes skip to the woman next to her, "detective."

She winks at her, linking her arm through Shaw's, guiding her inside. Of course Zoe had arranged a VIP table for the three of them. Of course there were shots, Shaw's favourite.

"Here’s to no turning back," Shaw grins, tipping the first shot back, reveling in the hot burn that sent a shiver down her spine.

-

"Why is she here?" Shaw asks, the edge of her vision slightly blurry. She doesn't know how many shots exactly she had poured into her system, but she knew the buzz she was feeling right now was her favourite. She soft humming of the music in her chest, the warmth of the club tingling on her skin.

Carter turns to face the bar. A tall brunette is talking to the bartender, her nails polished a devilish red, her hair curled. She looks stunning, and even though they all knew the woman, neither one of them had quite seen her like this.

"Zoe?" Carter asks, accepting the drink she hands her, taking a sip.

"Wasn't me. It's either coincidence or she has a source."

For a second too long, Shaw is staring at her. It's just the way her lips move when she talks. The way a soft smile plays her features. And then she looks up, their gazes meeting through the crowd. One corner of her mouth turns upwards, acknowledging Shaw. And then she looks away again.

When Shaw turns back to Zoe and Carter, they're both giving her a look. "What?"

Shaw downs another shot.

"You should go talk to her."

Before Shaw can consider it, she looks up, only to see Root has left the bartender to do her job.

-

Shaw rolls her eyes in the mirror when she finished washing her hands and the tall brunette appears besides her. They say nothing, Shaw drying off her hands and touching up her mascara.

"Hi," Root says, a light twinkle in her eyes when she extends her hand for Shaw to shake, "I go by many names, but you can call me Root."

Shaw smiles, for a second considering not playing along. She shakes, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand. "Sameen. Buy me a drink?"

The smile Root gives her is priceless. After a heart beat Root lets Shaw's fingers slip from her hand, heading ahead of her to the bar. Root orders them both a Jäger and a beer, apparently paying with a wink.

Root slides one of the small glasses to Shaw, bringing her own to her lips. She drinks the shot without breaking eye contact and Shaw doesn't know what makes her tingle more. That, or the alcohol.

She picks up both of their beers, motioning for Root to follow her to one of the decks. It was a bit more private here, less music and more fresh air.

Shaw sits down on one of the couches, setting their beers on the table, motioning for Root to sit next to her.

"No ulterior motive?" Root questions, and Shaw quirks a eyebrow. "Wiith you showing up here unannounced, I could be asking you that question, Root," Shaw says.

Halfway through her sentence, Root has sat down next to her. The hem of her dress has ridden up slightly, Shaw unsure if that was planned or not.

"So what does bring you here, Root?" Shaw asks.

Root reaches out to her, ever so gently, almost absentmindedly, brushing the pads of her fingers along the inside of Shaw's thing, only stopping when Shaw puts her hand on her wrist. Root looks up at her.

"You."

-

Shaw still feels her lips tingling. She tries to resist the urge to bring her fingers to her lips, but can't. The cold, nightly air had knocked some sense back into her. Some of it.

She feels a warm hand slipping into hers and she shivers, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

"Root," she whispers, and the hacker let's go of her hand. "Sorry."

Shaw shakes her head and swallows thickly. "Take me home."

-

She hadn't seen this home before, and for a second Shaw wonders if Root actually legally owned the place. It doesn't really matter anyway.

Root is in the big open kitchen, pouring scotch in coffee mugs. When Shaw strolls over, she hands her a one.

"It's temporary," Root says when she notices Shaw looking around, "owner's currently enjoying a cruise he won."

"So you turned this place into your..."

"Office," Root says with a sly grin. There was more to the story and it probably had to do with the Machine, but ar this point in time Shaw couldn't bring herself to care.

"I was gonna say loveshack, but sure office works."

Root shakes her head. "No."

Shaw takes a drink, deciding she doesn't want to know. She leans her hip against the counter, looking at Root.

Her hair is a little tousled because of the wind, but her make up still impeccable. There's familiar warmth in her eyes, one that usually only settled there after enough alcohol and behind closed doors, far away from facades and personas, from people and play pretend.

Root reaches out to her, wiping an eyelash from her cheekbone. "Make a wish, Sameen," Root whispers, moving closer until their hips meet in the middle. Root cups the sides of Shaw's face with her hands, brushing their noses together, Shaw pulling her closer at the hips, their bodies pressed flush together.

Shaw tilts her chin, ghosting their lips together, but Root moves just out of her reach. "Your wish..?"

"Kiss me."

[spillsnchills]

When a character doesn’t realize they’ve been, like, shot or whatever and they hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they’re just staring at it like wtf is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them. That’s good stuff.

[tiger-in-the-flightdeck]

I see that, and raise you a character who knows they’ve been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Okay but like the character who doesn’t realize they’ve been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it’s wet and oh no

[aconfederacyofscript]

I am rewatching poi so you can bet i will be a) writing some more fics and b) writing all of these

[aconfederacyofscript]

Shaw x root 41

“Go back to sleep.”

Root still pushes herself up on one elbow and runs a free hand through her hair. Never one to listen. Never one to not draw her own plan.

“What time is it?” Her voice nearly breaks with sleep, it being hoarse and heavy. It almost takes away her chirpy cheer. Almost. Shaw likes it like that. It doesn’t confuse her so much.

“Doesn’t matter.” Shaw purses her lips and leans back in her wooden chair, two legs rising off the floor when she does so.

She knows it’s 04:12. Three hours after they got here. Five hours after everything went to shit at that restaurant down on 22nd. She can still smell the blood in the air.

Her eyes burn with fatigue and by now even the gun in her lap has started to feel heavy, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not now they are here at least. She’ll stay awake. No problem. For Root she will.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Also doesn’t matter. Go back to sleep.”

Root sits now, clutching the sheets around her chest and cringing when she remembers why she was in the bed in the first place. Gut shot.

“You’re gonna tear those stitches,” Shaw sighs and gets up, her boots heavy on the floor. She sticks her gun in the waist of her pants and pushes Root back down on her back, lifting her top to check the gauze. “I worked really hard on them.”

“Come sleep with me, Sameen,” Root whispers and tickles her fingers down the inside of Shaw’s thigh, goosebumps rising in their wake, tingling to the back of her neck and down to her toes.

“Fuck, Root, seriously? Don’t make me K.O. you.” She clenches her fists involuntarily, her gaze nearly burning Root as much as the gunshot wound does, but she doesn’t move away from her touch.

“It would help me relax. And you need to sleep too.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like crap.” Root smiles wickedly and Shaw scoffs. “Gee, thanks. You really do know how to make a girl feel good, don’t you.”

“Get in here,” Root sighs and flips back the covers, “too bad I can’t help you undress.”

[aconfederacyofscript]

“I need you, though.” + shoot

Shaw looks down at the hand that’s resting on her wrist. The nails perfectly manicured in a blazing red.

When she looks up, she meets Root’s scorching gaze. The words resonate in her head: Root needs me. Root needs me. Root needs me.

So who was she to pull away, to yank her wrist from under the softness of her touch, to whine and scowl like she wouldn’t hear it.

“No you don’t”, is what she wants to say, “no one needs me, and I sure as hell don’t need anyone.” She swallows the thick words, readily available in her mouth, ready to be spat off her tongue.

Another salvo of shots crackles around them, but they’re fine where they’re sitting, hidden behind a few slabs of reinforced concrete that gave off white dust on their black outfits. Some of it is even in Root’s hair.

“This is not really a good time to argue about this, Sameen…” Root starts to say, but Shaw raises a hand to shut her up.

“I’m not in the mood for arguements. So for the sake of the mission, let’s both believe that what you say is true. Let’s hope we make it out of here without getting shot and then maybe, just maybe, you get to explain yourself.”

Her answer is in quick hushed words, a light frown rippling her forehead. “Don’t ruin it,” Shaw says when Root opens her mouth to say something, instead giving her a soft nod. “Let’s go.”

[aconfederacyofscript]

Stay

“If you think for just one second I’m gonna leave after what happened, Sameen, you’re wrong,” Root says, trying desperately to keep the sharpness from her voice. She tries, but the clench in Shaw’s jaws tells her enough. The air is nearly static.

Normally she kind of enjoys the stubbornness that is Shaw, the way she always pushes back a little and provides Root with a challenge. The way she always surrenders in the end, collapses under the weight of the world, caves for the both of them. Today doesn’t feel like that. Today she is a kite in a hurricane.

Keep reading

[aconfederacyofscript]

Can you do a shoot bathtub scene. Thanks

Root holds her breath. The hot water prickles on her bruised and scraped skin. Her jaws clench with her tight, sore muscles.

Root takes a deep breath when Shaw pulls a stool next to the bath tub and rolls up her sleeves.

“Shh, relax,” Shaw whispers, carefully pushing Root’s hair away from her shoulders, combing it into a messy bun that leaves a lot of strands sticking to her neck.

“Shaw…” Root’s voice is heavy. She pinches the bridge of her nose, wiping off some blood that trickles from it after.

“I know. It’s okay.”

Shaw’s voice might be more soothing than the hot water, her hands bringing more relief than the heat. She carefully runs her hands over the cuts and bruises, trying to ease some of the strain from her muscles.

Root swallows hard, her eyes closed, breathing deep. Shaw presses a kiss at the base of her neck. “You’re okay.”

“They got me good.”

“Mhm,” Shaw mumbles, softly running her hands over her arms, “I got you now.”

[aconfederacyofscript]

Shoot: The One Where A Sleepy!Bear (plot twist) kicks Root out of bed and Shaw is incredibly amused.

They didn’t allow the dog in the bedroom a lot. Bear usually prefered to sleep in the living room anyway, where he could take up all the space he wanted and be the faithful watchdog they needed.

Sometimes, however, he would poke his head around the door and Shaw couldn’t ignore his silent plea. Tonight was no different.

“You know, Sameen… I feel like there’s a distance between us,” Root jokes and Shaw chuckles. “Really.”

Bear had squished himself between them, his head resting on Shaw’s shoulder. She softly runs her fingers through his fur and he sighs deeply, his ears moving a little.

After a while, Shaw yawns, enticing a yawn in Bear as well. He stretches himself out as far as he can, his paws pushing into Root’s stomach. In her semi-sleepy state she startles, nearly tumbling over the edge of the bed.

“What were you saying about distance, Root?” Shaw says, an amused smile playing her lips.

[aconfederacyofscript]

prompt: Root resting her hand on Shaw's head/shoulder and Shaw getting pissed af (but secretly enjoying it)

The small hairs on the back of Shaw’s neck rise instantly when she feels the fingertips on her shoulders.

It’s instinct. She wants to pull away, violently shrug the hand off her and snarl. But she doesn’t.

By now Shaw has learnt to recognize Root’s touch, the gentleness that her hands brought, the safety they kept.

So she sits still, albeit a little uneasy. Over time she had gotten more used to it, recognizing that Root wouldn’t hurt her with her touches, that sometimes Root just needed to feel her to assure herself that she was there, even though she could see her.

And sometimes… Shaw would lean into the touch.