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tosuckmyweenis · 10 months

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A man and his dog

I saw this post about Leon loving nintendogs, and my mind was melting.

What would it be like to introduce him to it and go through the entire tutorial.

bonus pics of doggy at the end

Spring cleaning started, and it was one of the very few things Leon took seriously, going through every nook and cranny to see what he could get rid of and compress down; he liked living light and says it's because he doesn't want to trip on things when he comes home after a few too many, but you highly doubt that the only reason.

Sitting curled up on the couch corner, sipping your drink and watching whatever was on to pass the time before bed

"Hey, I found this in an old box that was falling apart in the closet; I thought you might want it" he held up the bright pink purse bag and wiggled the destroyed box in the other as proof before tossing it to the side.

"Oh hey! I wondered where it went; hand it over." you stuck your hands out for your treasured possession.

"What is it?"

"It's my old DS; I used to play this all the time. My favourite game was Nintendogs."

Opening the case, you pulled out the gray charger, inspecting it to ensure no exposed wires before holding it out to Leon.

"What do you do in it?"

"You take care of dogs, of course," Pulling out the pink device next, opening it until you heard the satisfying click, the memories it held bringing a smile to your face.

He takes the cord from you and leans over the small table to plug it in, handing the end to you.

Saying a silent prayer before plugging in, letting out the breath you were holding when the orange glow hit your eyes

"And she charges still!"

Setting it down on the side table and digging through the rest of the bag, you pull out the cartridges, looking for the one you're hoping is still there. Purrpals, catz, petz, all close, but not what you’re searching for. Leon takes his seat next to you, plopping down with a little too much force, jostling you into him. throwing his arm on the back of the couch behind you and leg crossed in his typical fashion, he observes you turning each cartridge before dropping them into your lap. “What are you rooting around for?” “Nun ya.” snorting at your own joke “Haha, very funny.” the lighthearted tone in his voice made it clear he knew you were joking “Found it!” exclaiming excitedly, grabbing the ds and inserting the cart before powering it on to the familiar jingle, you select the game and hand it to him expectantly.

"I never started this one, so how about you give it a try?"

"I guess I could take a break; I have been cleaning all day" he wasn't too hard to convince; after all, he'd move the world if you asked him to.

"Please knock?"

"Yeah, take the stylus here and tap the door gently. " pointing to the side, making him tilt the system and slide the stylus out

the door swinging open when he taps has him fascinated

"This is kind of cool. I never had one of these growing up."

Leaning over to watch him, practically narrating the tutorial for him.

"You can go straight to buying your puppy or play with the kennel dogs."

"Of course, I'm going to the kennel; those puppies deserve love too" he sounded offended at the thought of just going straight to the buying.

The screen flashes white and the top screen switches to a dog view of a golden retriever digging on the ground.

"There's 3 of them! Look at this one; she's digging."

"You can have multiple dogs if you want."

"What does this do?" he questions himself while pressing the button; a whistle is heard along with the pattering sounds of puppy feet and barks.

"It calls them to you," you say matter of factly

"Thanks, genius," a small smile tugging at his lips

He takes the stylus and begins petting the closest dog on the screen, which happens to be a tiny white chihuahua. After petting him for a few seconds, he rolls over, and you swore you can hear Leon gasp.

He takes his time petting each dog, ensuring they all get a turn before leaving the kennel.

"Alright, now we look at my options" Once the menu pops up, you can see his eyebrows wrinkle and nose scrunch.

"I didn't think I'd have this many options."

"It is called Dalmation and friends; it's not just one breed."

"Alright, the first option is a Yorkie; Pros: go."

It's not like any of these matter, but you play along anyway; brainstorming never hurt anyone.

"Pro: they are small, they are built for city life, and they bark at everything so no one will ever be able to break in." your reasonings were solid

"Cons: If they're too small, I'd probably step on them; barking at everything is a con if we live in an apartment, noise complaints and we don't want evictions."

Scrolling to the second one

"Beagle, pros: Low maintenance, so if we go away, it'll be easier to find a sitter; if we ever get stranded in the woods, he could help us hunt rabbits for food, and they have floppy ears," he finished his list and looked over to you

"Cons: House training can be harder than other breeds; they are also very vocal, so no apartment life either." you countered

"Good points. Golden retriever, All pros and no cons, Next."

"Wait for a second; you can't just skip an entire br-"

"Boxers, Affectionate, could be box a pro and a con, watchdog which makes me feel better if you're home alone or I'm busy, and they are super smart. Your turn"

"Uh, well, They shed more, so extra cleaning would need to be done; they don't do well left alone, and with our schedules, it just wouldn't work."

"Sad but true. German shepherds, Loyal and love the outdoors, we could take him on our hiking trips."

"We could; that would be pretty fun; you know I always pictured you as a cat kind of person."

"I also like cats; I had one growing up and named him Peaches because there was a patch of fur in the shape of a peach. Loved him to death," Leon recalled with a sorrowful smile.

"Enough of that, though. Now for the start of the show, Dalmations.......I got nothing." he quickly changes the subject

"They make really cute firefighters?"

"Well, I guess we could put him to work, make him earn his keep" Leon chuckles at his joke

"Alright there, Come on. we know which one you're going to choose."

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you slink your arm around his, cuddling into him

"Was it that obvious?" clicking the little golden retriever tab brought up another set of options

he stared at the screen showing 3 little puppies, two girls and a boy, all a different shade.

"So you can click one, and it'll bring up a little bit of info about them."

Clicking the first picture

"She has a very laid-back attitude, won't bark much and loves to sleep...Sounds a little like someone I know."

The arm you're holding moves to nudge you in the ribs slightly, causing a small laugh to escape

"All reasons you love me, I hope."

"That and so much more." leaning over to kiss the top of your head lovingly before clicking the next one

"The male puppy is full of love; he can get lonely at times but is still the perfect pup for family life."

Now that sounded like someone you knew, but you'd keep that to yourself for now.

"He's very charming" You look at the top screen, showing him scratching his ear before being barreled over, a toothy smile tugging at Leon’s lips

"And last but certainly not least, this little lady. She has a bright personality and is recommended for first-time owners."

The camera zooms in on the girl, you could see him staring fondly at the animation of her pawing and playing with the boy.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire, his eyes staying focused on the screen of the puppies

He didn’t even miss a beat, he already decided the minute he seen him "I'm picking the boy...Can't have him be lonely."

Your new life with your new puppy is about to begin He looks a little nervous, being in a new surrounding

"Aw, don't be nervous little guy."

Spend some time with your puppy to help him feel more comfortable

Touch the whistle icon to interact with him

Following the instructions, he presses the icon and watches the puppy run up to him, placing his paws on the screen while Leon pets his head

"He's very cute, and he loves head pets."

He seems to have calmed down quite a bit; Surely you must have an idea of what you want to call this puppy, don't you?

"Uh oh."

"Can’t think of a name, what about meatball?"

"Meatball is a cat's name." “What about someone important?” It was like a lightbulb went off in his head after that, his eyes lit up to match “I know what I’m going to name him”

hearing him repeat the name over and over, it tugged at your heart, he had told you the story of that night and how he wished he could have done more to help

He seems quite happy you've given him a name. Keep calling his name so he can get used to the sound of it.

"Marvin huh, That's a wonderful name." “Yeah, I think so too”

Watching him roll around on the screen and respond to the name, petting him every time for positive reinforcement

This is a good time to teach him how to sit. Gently pet the top of Marvin's head, then slide the stylus down his head to make him sit

"Already learning tricks, I knew my Marvin was a smart dog!"

"You can feed him the lightbulb!" He was ecstatic about that and fed him each one, not missing a single one

Now you need to make sure he can perform the trick you just taught him

"Marvin, Sit down"

the dog just looks at him

"Marvin, Sit down"

He sat.

"Yeah! Let's go, Buddy!"

It looks like he responds to your voice and commands. You can now begin your life with Marvin

The pure joy radiating off of him infiltrated your soul; seeing him content with something small that brings him peace from the horrors he had to face day in and day out.

You woke up to Leon shuffling next to you, trying to move as little as possible, you look over at the clock, and it read 3:48 am. You think he is having one of those nights and is just settling down, so you decide to wait a few seconds before turning towards him or saying anything until you hear the tell-tale click and the beginning of the opening chime before it is cut off abruptly, Leon let out a hushed 'shit' before all movement halted, you could practically hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest. You felt his eye burning into your back, checking to see if he woke you; you pretended to be asleep. After a moment, you heard the light tapping of the stylus and a very, very faint bark.

#leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon x reader

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raayllum · 2 months

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Time to be wonderfully self indulgent and talk about a scene comparison I've wanted to for a hot second (while pointing very decidedly to This Post for posterity's sake).

So let's talk about the hostage exchanges for Callum and Rayla in 4x09 and 5x08, shall we?

First, let's look at the scene setup.

In 4x09, Rayla is very much the aggressor and pursuant, and the one who — initially — has more power. She has her sword up to Terry's throat, neither him nor Claudia have strong reason to think she wouldn't go through with it, and she explicitly threatens Terry's life precisely because of his importance to Claudia. This is similar as to why Finnegrin threatens Rayla (though there are differences, which we'll get to in a moment), so both elves start out as the aggressor in each scenario.

However, there is soon a shift. Callum's "deal" happens because he escalated violence against Finnegrin (the infamous punch), a tad more similarly perhaps to how Rayla is only threatening Terry because she believes Claudia and co. are a threat to the whole world. Now to be fair, Claudia is only threatening Rayla's parents because Rayla is threatening Terry, but we can assume she had the realization of their connection to Rayla a while ago and has been sitting on it just in case she needed leverage, given that she doesn't seem to need a second to consider. I also think we're inclined, typically within the show, to see the person offering up Options / a choice to make as the one who holds more power in the immediate situation (i.e. Karim's whole sun seed for Janai debacle) even if it may be 60-40 the way it is here.

Not a huge power imbalance, but enough that people are being pushed into corners, and that's exactly where Claudia and Finnegrin attempt to do, and arguably do more successfully, to Callum and Rayla respectively.

We've talked a fair bit about Claudia, so now I want to talk about Finnegrin, simply because he gets a whole episode of corner backing, and therefore there's more stages.

The first stage is Finnegrin attacking Callum as an individual — "Look at you: slave to your friends, your loyalties, your pride. I can give you your freedom though" — and it's the least effective, as Callum never budges or shows any real hints of budging even under torture. However, Callum's admission that he has indeed done dark magic before ("I did one spell. One. I had to, to save my friends") gives Finnegrin the tools he needs to create the next prong of his approach.

Stage two is attacking Callum through his friends, and is far more effective. This is why he sets the hand cutting challenge, and Callum buys into it, i.e. the idea that he has to choose, over the idea that Callum could conceivably offer up his own hand instead. This is not to say that he wouldn't — there's little doubt in my mind that Callum wouldn't have seriously considered if not outright done the chain spell up on deck if Rayla hadn't tried to intervene, since as Finnegrin correctly assesses, "They would do anything for you, so clearly you'll do anything for them" — just that his own hand didn't occur to Callum as an option the way it might've to someone like Rayla.

The third stage, of course, is the one that's most interesting to us, simply in how Callum's "hostage deal" differs from Rayla's in both its construction, their assumptions, and their responses.

Claudia: One thing I don't know though — if I threw the coins in the lava, would it release your spirits? Or would they be trapped in some kind of eternal burning agony? Let's trade. You let him go... and I'll give you the coins.

Finnegrin: The cave is for his protection. This way, he lures us a leviathan but doesn't get eaten. The one getting thrown into the sea serpent's hungry mouth is your elf girl.

Claudia's offered deal is different from Finnegrin's in a few ways.

1) Claudia's deal is explicitly stated in not just the text, but the scene itself ("Let's trade") meanwhile Finnegrin, unlike the two stages prior, does not offer Callum any notion of freedom this time around. Even though neither ends up being a fair deal regardless, the setup of said deal is different. Rayla is being legitimately offered; Callum is making a (desperate but understandable) assumption.

2) Exemplified in a drabble I wrote in which Finnegrin was bluffing, I think it's worth noting that the peril Rayla's parents were in was much more apparent. They were completely defenseless, Claudia was already holding them over the lava, and just one quick throw would be enough to potentially leave them in an "eternal burning agony" (which sounds worse than death by sea leviathan to me; at least that decidedly ends at one point). Rayla could see and hear all this. Callum, by contrast, did not see Rayla tied up, or in distress, and Finnegrin had no proof other than his word. That's not to say Callum was wrong to believe him — he'd just watched Finnegrin torture her, and Finnegrin was very much not bluffing in canon — but that normally Callum is a bit more skeptical and wants a bit more proof in regards to things, and this was a time where emotion really pushed him forward. The immediate consequences of however Rayla responded would be seen with her own eyes, where it's unlikely Callum would've even known precisely when Rayla had died/been eaten with any of his senses or knowledge; it's arguably the one 'mercy' that Finnegrin provided him.

3) And as stated, both Claudia and Finnegrin end up being disingenuous. It seems likely that Claudia always intended to trick Rayla, even if she'd let Terry go, given that while we don't see her slight of hand in general on screen, it doesn't seem like it would've been possible for her to take the coins back out again and switch them before tossing the pouch. That seems like a one and done type of thing earlier on. Finnegrin, of course, takes Callum to task for his assumption ("Oh my poor lad; that deal was no longer on the table") and given his choice to feed Rayla to the sea leviathan anyway, I don't think Finnegrin was ever telling Callum about his plans in order to get him to give up the info. I think it was just supposed to be a punishment, plain and simple, for the literal blow to his pride.

But now for the difference I think everyone clicked on this meta for, realistically, are the choices that Callum and Rayla made in response to the offered Deals.

When Rayla's parents lives are on the line, she considers, but ultimately refuses.

She does not partake in the deal. Rather, she escalates her own refusal of it by pushing Terry to his knees, says so outright — "I'm not making a deal with you!" — and looks up at Claudia, watching and waiting to see how she responds. Claudia as wholly tossed the coin pouch, and Rayla is seeing it arc down towards the lava, before she finally releases Terry to go and try to save her family.

Rayla does not fold the second her parents are verbally threatened, or when there is a possibility of getting them back. Despite her wanting to stop Claudia and Viren, the bigger issue is ultimately letting Claudia escape > actually keeping Terry away from her as an ally/helper. It is only when her parents will burn to death in front of her eyes that she relinquishes her stalemate in an attempt to save them.

You can argue that Rayla going back on her refusal means she made the same choice as Callum in 5x08, and that's fine; it's your prerogative, it's your interpretation, it's cool beans.

However, that doesn't ignore the character beat that Rayla at least refuses upon the first possibility of a threat. Claudia directly threatens three of Rayla's loved ones, and Rayla doesn't budge and verbally/physically refuses to give Claudia what she wants.

And Callum does the same with Finnegrin under torture... until Finnegrin threatens Rayla. The second Callum realizes that Rayla is in danger, that she will or might be killed, Callum folds.

The parallel response here would've been Rayla letting go of Terry the second that Claudia said she might throw the coins into the lava, but Rayla doesn't. And Callum does, even though as he said earlier ("I'm not going to help you murder the Archdragon of the Ocean") this makes him complicit in murder.

And this is where Callum's assumption really bites him in the ass, because he assumes that Finnegrin is still operating under the terms of their previous deal ("Told me something I wanted and now she's free as a bird") even though Callum isn't asking for his freedom, but Rayla's. But Finnegrin's pride is wounded — this was always meant to be a straight up punishment, not enough form of coercion — the wick of his anger lit, so it makes no difference.

Rayla refuses Claudia's deal when thinking it existed, only to find out it didn't. Callum agrees to Finnegrin's deal only to find it out it no longer exists. He gave Finnegrin what the pirate wanted and it isn't even going to save the person he gave it up for.

Both failed exchanges — or in Rayla's case, a failed rescue — end in defeat and devastation: Rayla sobbing and letting out a scream of anguished frustration, and Callum laying on the floor in despair, totally sideways from how much he's pulling at his chains.

I don't think I have to say much else as these scenes and comparisons basically speak for themselves. Neither choice these two make is necessarily the right or wrong choice — for Rayla, her inability to put what she wants first could've resulted in her parents' deaths and has caused herself and others a lot of suffering; for Callum, he understandably wanted to protect a loved one at all cost, even if that left him exploitable and unsuccessful amid Finnegrin's ire, and gave the pirate a dangerous piece of information.

However, I do think that although Callum's choice spells an ominous future (and that Rayla's foreshadows the uncertainty of what she may do when Callum is, inevitably, possessed again, and their futures collide), it's worth examining it as his biggest, more positive difference from Viren, and that's what my next post will be about — so stay tuned if you like.

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l00rem · 3 months

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Imo, this is the most telling/concerning line of the explorers

As we’ve seen, the environment of Explorers is incredibly toxic. 3/4 of the other admins have each insulted or taken shots at Amethio somehow. And it looks like this is nothing new, it’s horrible how Conia’s reaction to him being in a room alone with them is ‘oh god i hope he’s okay’. Amethio is a minor, he’s in a room full of people who seem to all be much older than him and ,in complete contrast to Liko’s situation, they all belittle him and insult him for every little mistake. It’s really upsetting how the only two people who have any sort of concern for him are his underlings- but Conia and Zir are absolutely powerless to really do anything about this. As much as they care about him, I don’t think Amethio would even be able to allow himself to be proper vulnerable around them. He’s already having to constantly prove himself, so how could he do something as unprofessional as spilling his worries to his underlings? It seems the only one he’s comfortable being open with is Ceruledge, but once again there is very little it can do to help him.

Then there’s Hamber. I’ve seen a few people give him the benefit of the doubt, especially because of episode 34 where it looks like he’s taken a shine to Amethio. But don’t let his fake concern fool you.

All i see here is basic professionalism, like he’s reading what he has to say off a script. He doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying: we’ve seen how high the Explorers expectations are, I mean just look at how much Amethio is overexerting himself in the second op, surprise surprise Hamber is sitting back and merely watching despite his earlier comment of not straining yourself. Not to mention, the moment things start going well for Amethio, Hamber immediately undermines his agency by going with Sango and Onyx to sort things out personally. Like no wonder Amethio seems to be triggered by not being taken seriously when this is how his (employers? guardians? idk) treat him!

He’s also got soooo many red flags! The biggest being when Sango half-heartedly refuses orders, to which he responds:

Literally physically intimidating her! And her reaction raises even more red flags, despite her happy demeanour the way she instantly complies is very telling that this isn’t the first time Hamber’s resorted to such threats… and this is the same environment a 16ish old is being raised in!

Maybe it’s just the amount of pressure he was putting on himself, but look how stressed and low-key terrified Amethio looks when fighting Hamber!!

And even if we want to make the case that maybe Amethio is this special exception for Hamber and that he’s got a soft spot for him… he is ultimately still complicit in grooming Amethio into this shady organisation. Episode 34 even reveals that Hamber was the one who trained Amethio, which also fuels the idea that he might have been some random child they find and realised how easily they could manipulate him into becoming the perfect loyal admin. Well i personally subscribe to the Amethio is an orphan theory rather than Gibeons son, especially considering that comment about Gibeon ‘awakening’, Idk if Gibeon is even properly alive.

Btw if you’re interested in further exploration in what I’ve discussed in this post allow me to shamelessly plug my fic that finished recently. It delves into the shadiness of Explorers and how really fucked up Amethio’s situation is! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52757629

It’s kinda weird how we’ve gone from ‘haha look at team Rocket blast off again aren’t they so wacky?’ to literal child grooming. I’m all for the serious themes tho.

Tldr: Hamber deserves to be pushed down a flight of stairs, Amethio needs so much therapy.

#pokemon horizons #amethio #anipoke #pokemon hamber #pokemon explorers #pokemon conia #Now if only Horizons would give us more than 5 mins of amethio everytime he’s on screen #Manifesting an episode that focuses on him for the entire runtime #Pls don’t make me wait 15 weeks to see him again #tw child grooming mentioned

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uncouth-the-fifth · 1 year

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pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.2

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 4747 notes: HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO. uni is finally no longer kicking my ass, so here is a pythia update! since it's been an embarrassing amount of time since I last posted, i rly wanted to get something out for u guys - and as a result this chapter is shorter than what I'd like, but I hope still fun and silly ;) thank you so much for holding on with me and i can't wait to hear your thoughts! p.s - sam and dean are extra sweet this chapter bc i want all of u to love me again >:)

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

George Phelps was Max’s passenger, and, among other things, a loving and committed husband. He lived in a quaint little house in the suburbs, where his wife put his picture on the mantle and refused to say much to you. She didn’t have to. Just looking up at their house from the curb, decorated with soft glowing Christmas lights and silver crosses, you knew George Phelps wasn’t your guy. Maybe Max had seen him pry open the emergency exit on the flight, but you seriously doubted a dentist with acid reflux was behind the deaths of two hundred people.

Sitting in George’s living room and speaking with his wife, you swore that there was almost something there, but it was neutral enough that you doubted it was anything more than the wisps of George’s presence in the house. Fresh grief always felt the same.

You didn’t like how this hunt had been gnawing on you. The visions always itched you in their own way, but this time was distinctly, uncomfortably different, and you just couldn’t pin down why. It was your job to take the weird inclinations the Gift gave you and turn them into something usable. Somehow, you couldn’t even manage that.

You were the first one out of George Phelp’s stifling house and the first one into the Impala. In the safety of the backseat, you curled your nails into the upholstery until your fingers hurt and just felt. What were you missing? What were you recognizing, but failing to remember?

The thing you were hunting was big game. You’d had hundred-year-old vengeful spirits in your head, and they couldn’t even glimpse the kind of hatred you were dealing with here. It affected audio recordings, had loads of strength, and took a metal bat to your Gift every time you even thought about it. Somehow, it manifested with or connected to normal people. None of this rung any bells with you. Which was ridiculous, since it felt more and more familiar the longer you rolled your vision over in your mind—beyond close, like it was within arm’s reach.

Sam, in the Impala’s passenger seat, started giving you cautious looks in the rear-view. Dean had been halfway through griping about this case when Sam finally spoke his mind: “____… What exactly did you see in your vision?”

Both of the boys shared a furtive glance, then turned to look at you as one.

You must’ve shown the panic you were feeling on your face, because Dean’s clammed up with awkward sympathy. “...I know this one was tougher n’ usual, but I need you to buck up a bit, okay? This thing’s got nothing on you. C’mon.”

When you frowned, there was a bitter tang growing on the back of your tongue. You weren’t six. You didn’t need someone to coax your nightmares from you, and you definitely didn’t need anyone telling you to put your big girl pants on. Dean didn’t have to ask Sam to toughen up, even four years off his game, and you doubted he ever told himself to. Grr.

“Just start driving,” you gruffed, and failed to stop your lip from curling.

The arm Dean had hung over the front seat slouched into his lap. “...Sure thing. What’d you see?”

He turned the key and got you on the road again, joined, right on cue, by Sam’s kicked-puppy look swaying back to the windshield. You reminded yourself that the only reason you were pissed was because of how awful these last few days had been, and explained yourself.

“It was intense. Way more intense than most visions I’ve had. Not because of anything I saw—though the crash was… awful—but because of the feeling it gave me. Even when I got out of it… it just filled my head, I guess. This thing has a seriously powerful influence.”

Sam’s brows furrowed. “Did you see it at all?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, reminded again of how little you were helping. “Most of it was just flashes of the passengers. The plane going down. Before that, I saw a man’s hand grab the handle to the emergency door, the pilots talking about a flight out of Pittsburg, and then smoke. Loads of it.”

The car sunk into a heavy, thought-honed silence that only served to ramp up to your anxiety. You kept the case on your mind for all of two seconds, then were pulled to the ceaseless clicking of Dean’s turn signal and how scratchy your bandages were. Your suit sat too stiff on your body for you to relax into your seat, squeezing your empty belly in the worst way and chaffing on Baby’s leather. The cold air was too dry and your eyes and throat burned with the strangest pressure. Not a sick pressure, but a living one, pressing in. Black smoke. Your pain meds were wearing off too, so the sinew in your body felt taut and worn on an unfamiliar skeleton.

You stared dead-eyed at nothing for a minute longer, then Dean hauled the Impala up to the curb again and declared: “Fuck it. We’re getting lunch. What are you in the mood for, baby?”

“That’s a weird way to say the car needs gas, Dean,” you managed.

“No—not her-Baby, you baby!” Dean flushed, and honestly, he deserved some serious points for scrounging up any humor right now. Again, he tossed an elbow over the seat and threw a dazzling, morale-boosting grin at you. “What do you want to eat, darlin’? We can go to a sit-down place, have an actual meal. Or we can just grab something from the store. Anything.”

You hesitated to answer, and caught Sam’s grimace—you were way too poor right now to go for anything beyond instant noodles. “...We can wait til’ later, Dean. I don’t really have an appetite right now,” you lied.

Dean never begged, but forever reason he was willing to today. Maybe you seemed even worse off than you’d thought. “...C’mon, kid, you’re killing me here. Whatever you want. My treat.”

Again, you didn’t jump at the chance to answer. Truth be told, you could eat a grocery store whole right now, but the three of you did not have the budget. Dean was insane and devoted enough to steal lunch for you, too, and you didn’t feel like bailing him out of jail right now. Just the idea made your wallet tear up.

You opened your mouth to try and be realistic, only for Sam to interrupt you.

“Ice cream,” he read your mind. “She wants ice cream. The big grocery store tubs.”

Dean didn’t wait for any objections. He whipped the Impala out of park, jerked back into your lane, and peeled away toward the nearest store. “Ice cream! Hell yeah. I could fuck up some cherry garcia right now. Sam? Could you fuck up some ice cream right now?”

“Me? Oh, big time,” he lied, catching your eyes in the rearview again. You’d maybe seen Sam eat ice cream twice in your entire life. Again, he was probably hiding that he was lactose intolerant.

You had only a sliver of fight left within you. “Boys…”

“Yes?” They chimed. In their own ways, their voices dared you to resist, but the combined power of both Winchesters was too strong to withstand.

You bit down your grin and fell silent.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled into a thirty-year-old mini-mart that looked it’s age. Of course, he parked the Impala as far from the other cars as possible, so the mile-long walk through freezing, finger-numbing winds put everyone in the mood for ice cold ice cream. The first euphoric rush of interior heating made you sigh out loud. When Sam and Dean had swiped the snow off their blazers, you made an attempt at leading them toward another toastier, cheaper snack.

“You want ice cream,” was all Sam said, shrugging, and scooped up a basket for the three of you to use.

Either you were predictable or he could read minds, because even with the snowy weather you were more than ready to fuck up some ice cream. Just thinking about it made your bandages feel less scratchy. Lounging on the couch and plowing through a tub was a privilege the road really didn’t allow, so you were pretty sure you hadn’t even had any ice cream since October. Since you’d actually lived in your apartment.

“How did you know?” You asked him, out of honest curiosity.

Sam gave you a mysterious smile instead of an answer, swiped some snow off your jacket, then tilted his head after Dean in an unspoken come on. His brother had already caught the scent of the frozen treats section, so you both hurried to catch up with him. You stole glimpses of Sam as you wove your way to the back of the store. He was a little taller than the aisles, and his loafers cleared the age-stained linoleum in half the time your heels did. For whatever reason this is when your heart decides to remind you how absolutely spellbound you are by him. He takes a turn around an endcap of Little Debbies to find Dean, and you float right after him, orbited by cartoon hearts.

Maybe that’s intentional on Sam’s part, since you forget all about money and budgets right up until you’re staring down the row of smudged freezer doors. Dean’s already hefting his tub of cherry garcia overhead when you approach, and after a lot of fake stadium-cheering and whooping, he free-throws it with a perfect swish into Sam’s basket. Then, he slides aside and unveils the mini-mart’s slim selection of ice creams to you. Unfortunately, you’ve been trained from birth to think Dean’s funny, so you bite down on your cheek-aching grin and take a look.

“I dunno…” you say, even though you’ve already come this far. The math is starting to stack in your head. One tub is fine, but one for each of you builds up, and that cuts into real food money and motel money and gas money and—

“How about this,” Sam interrupts your mounting anxiety, voice smooth and anticipatory. “Dean gets his and then you and I get one to share. Sound good?”

You thank him with a small smile, imagining the face he’d make if you yanked him down by the lapels and kissed him for knowing you so well. Sam was a great kisser.

“That’d be perfect.”

Instead of going for your favorite, you swipe the dairy-free cookies and cream.

Dean shoos Sam further down the aisle, and his brother props up the basket like a hoop and starts serpentining between the frozen pizzas, the two of them beaming like rowdy middle school boys. You turn your tub over in your hand and line up your shot. Dean’s taunting and pinching is ultimately fruitless—the victory grin is already comfortable on your face when your ice cream swishes flawlessly into Sam’s basket. Sam whoops.

“Not bad, Slayer,” Dean approves. He gives your shoulder a playful budge, and you budge him right back on the way to the registers.

With your bad mood successfully thawed, you’re easy to distract while Dean sneaks away to (hopefully) pay for your plunder. One minute you’re in line with them, and in the next Sam is coaxing you away to poke around the value movie bin, hypnotizing you with a few well-placed, dimply grins. You forget altogether that ice cream costs money. You’re only just remembering what money is when Dean reappears, shoving a receipt in his pocket and jabbing a thumb toward the bakery.

“Cashier lady said they got spoons over there,” Dean explained.

You paused. “Don’t we have, like, a gazillion in the car?”

“You mean the car with the heater that takes ten years to start?” Dean sassed back, which instantly dissolved into one of his cheesy, goading grins. He started to rifle through the grocery bag for his flavor, half-walking and half-wrestling with it. “We’ll eat in here. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, you didn’t worry about it. Dean cracked jokes about adult freedoms and whole sleeves of raw cookie dough, Sam rubbed his belly like just the thought made him nauseous, and you giggled at every little thing they did. You were still laughing when Sam parked you by one of the bakery’s vents, the two of you crowded close to get as much warm bread fog as possible. Dean went over and bartered for three plastic spoons. The whole time he stole glances at you loudly giggling with his brother, and patted himself on the back for his job well done.

Dean wiggled closer to you both to be under the warmth of the vent. Now equipped with a way to get this ice cream into your ice-cream-ready belly, you borrowed Sam’s pocket knife to shred the plastic seperating you from your treasure. There wasn’t really a contactless way to hold the tub between you both. While Dean ravaged his cherry garcia, you and Sam tried, and failed, to preserve your personal space, only to lazily gravitate closer to each other with the first glorious spoonfuls of cookie-dough. The first bite balmed your sore throat and your sensitive burns. It was sweeter than you were expecting for dairy-free ice cream, but the surprise was welcome.

Dean stabbed his spoon into his cherry garcia. Then, he gave you another welcome surprise. He dropped his hand in your hair, smoothing it back, and asked around a mouthful of cherry flavoring, “Good?”

You couldn’t help but beam. “Yeah. I’m good.”

NTSB EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, midday.

The next step in your investigation, naturally, was to break into a government warehouse, slip past security undetected, and hopefully learn something useful from the wreckage without being caught. No amount of ice cream could make that easy, but you couldn’t let your anxiety get in the way. The heart attacks you had showing your fake badge to the security guards were nausea-inducing, but the overpowering psychic weight of a disaster this fatal was going to be a thousand times worse. You steeled yourself.

Before you’d been a hunter, you’d come from a long line of spiritualists and occultists who made death their livelihood. They communicated with the spirit world, they studied life after death, they made the passing of old souls easier. Even before your Gift opened up you’d had similar connections to death. Beth, eyes gleaming with pride, used to tell stories about you at four, talking to the darkness of the attic’s crawlspace like there was someone there. Dean got head to toe heebie-jeebies when you brought that up, but a connection to the other side at such a young age was a Proctor mark of pride. The first time you’d ever seen an apparition had been celebrated as a milestone of womanhood. Death was your older sister, so you shouldn’t have been afraid of her.

You’d sensed her just a few miles out from the warehouse. It was gentle at first, seeping into your ears like a shift in air pressure, then gradually filling up your other senses. But over two hundred real living people—people who loved and were loved like you loved Sam and Dean—had died in that crash, so in no time you were squeezing your eyes shut and plugging your nose in the backseat. You felt Death every day in small doses. In Sam, restlessly watching the ceiling of your rooms at night, in your motorcycle, in the graves you dug up and the homes you questioned civilians in. Your sister sat beside you in the back of the Impala every day.

But two hundred whole people. You dug the nails of your right fist into your palm until it burned, thinking, desperately, about ice cream.

The closer you came to the scene, the more overwhelming the sense of death became. You were almost swaying on your feet flashing your badge at the security desk, who, of course, have to remind everyone of how useless you are.

“FBI? Don’t you guys usually work in pairs?”

Sam gave a tight smile. “She’s our aircraft specialist, thank you.”

A security clerk from the main office drove you out to the right hangar on a golf cart. Dean laid his action movie smolder a bit thick on the guy, but he at least could’ve passed as a trainee. By comparison, Sam at twenty-two and you at twenty-four were round-faced babies, too young to play agents on TV, nevermind in real life. The two of you squished together on the back bench of the cart and sat ramrod straight the whole ride, refusing to turn around. The less people who could remember your faces, the better.

When the warehouse was unlocked and the three of you were inside, your sister struck.

There was so much death. Great mouthfuls, lungfuls, chestfuls of it in the air, diffusing through your nose every time you breathed. You gagged on the psychic taste of it until your eyes watered.

A smarter person would’ve stayed in the safe bubble between Sam and Dean, but you’re done being babied. You break ranks the first chance you get. While the boys take slow steps around the perimeter of the wreckage, you gravitate toward the split-open center of the fuselage. All that remains of the plane’s body are a few rows of seating, gutted curves of scrap, and long tangles of roasted wires. There was so little left that you had room to walk through the middle, down the same path the passengers had taken to board.

When the ringing in your ears was too loud to hear over and you felt like a massive fist had closed around your chest, you stopped. Reached out. Felt, beyond the veil, the mark of the thing that had done this. It hung over this warehouse like a funeral shroud, but you felt it first through its spider web, which kept the last impressions of over two-hundred different people tethered to this place by invisible strands. None of the people—the spirits from the crash had manifested yet, but every living thing left an impression of itself behind. A footprint.

You pulled at different strands of the spider’s web for a while, sorting through the last memories of those on the plane for something useful. It was just as terrible as you’d expect. Mothers held their children, husbands clutched their wives, everyone wailed and screamed. This many people should’ve made up a whole nebula of different feelings, but instead you sensed just one: absolute, incalculable terror. With every passing moment the fear pressed in closer, but you ignored it. You pushed yourself deeper. Max Jaffey gasped into his oxygen mask. The seat in front of him was empty, and he was looking at someone—you reached and reached—across the aisle, a man sobbed and pressed his girlfriend’s trembling hand into his heart—you were going to die you were all going to die—

You’re ripped out of the swarm of memories.

For the millionth fucking time, you come out of the vision on your ass with the boys hovering over you. You’re slow to remember where you are and what’s going on, but the shame is there waiting for you, like always.

“—okay, just breathe, you’re okay—” Sam is telling you, soft and unbelievably patient, considering the number of times he’s had to do this.

His heart is full-on pounding like it’s gonna punch right out of his chest, and you wonder why you know that until you glance down. He’s got your wrist fished in his hand, pressing your palm to flat to the crisp chest of his suit, and it’s just plain embarrassing at this point how much it pulls you back to earth. Your dignity wants you to rip yourself away from him, but, luckily, Dean does it for you. He pushes Sam back and kicks a box of wires neatly between you, just in time for his premonition to come true: your twisting stomach makes its move, and you promptly throw up into the box like a sick toddler in a ball pit. Dean could always tell.

“Touchdown,” he winces.

This is it. You’ve reached the final level of humiliation you can stand. No matter how hard you try, every pathetic dive you’ve made to be useful to the Winchesters has ended with your face in the mud. You can’t even wipe your face right. Sam ends up doing it for you with his sleeve, and sighs, out loud, just to add insult to injury: “Poor baby.”

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 3rd, evening.

Two hours later, you’re back in the motel, sitting criss-cross at the end of Dean’s bed and contemplating what color you’re going to dye your hair. You’ve already landed on what your new legal name will be—Elizabeth Ripley. Elizabeth as in Pride and Prejudice and Ripley as in Alien. Sam would appreciate a Jane Austen reference and Dean would appreciate anything Alien related, so everyone would be happy.

You’re not sure where this plan to change your name and face came from. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, after you gracefully threw up everywhere and failed to learn anything new about the case, the real FBI showed up. Like. Real, gun-slinging, tie-wearing FBI agents. And they may or may not have chased you out of the warehouse. (Which you would’ve seen coming, by the way, if you hadn’t royally exhausted your powers). Just in case all that was enough—while you were off being useless, Sam and Dean got a potential sample from your mystery monster. An actual workable lead.

Fucking great.

The two of them are deciding what to do with you. If you were to look beyond the lens of your self-hatred for a moment, it’s more likely that the boys are worried about you and trying to figure this out. But you feel embarrassed and gross and unhelpful, so you strain to pick up every word you can and glare a new hole into the wall. They’re going to tell you to stay behind. Well that, at least, is something you can beat them to.

Ever since you were little, the three of you had a very special rhythm together. Sam was the mind and Dean was the heart and you were the subconscious. Each of you was important, and though you could work on your own, you were so, so much better as a system. With you sending out fucked-up signals, the two of them would be down a crucial piece.

Whatever. They’d probably function just fine without you on this one.

Of course, Dean sics his little peacekeeper on you. The door clicks open. You smear the last of your frustrated tears on your sleeve and talk before Sam can say anything: “Hey, is it okay if you guys take that sample to Jerry without me? It’d probably be good for us to get a leg up on research, and you guys don’t exactly need me there.”

Sam comes toward you, his voice extra soft and placating. Since, y’know, you’re a shitty timebomb that needs to be handled with kid gloves. “...Alright. That’s a good idea. That’d help out a lot.”

He says that specifically because he knows you feel unhelpful. He gives you those dewy, understanding Sam eyes and puts his big Sam hand on your shoulder, and all it does is piss you off. You hate how easily he can read you, and how much you want to listen to him. None of this should be such a big fucking deal. You’re twenty-four—you should have a handle on your Gift by now. Sam’s been back at this for, what? Two months? Nobody’s treating him like he can’t handle the pressure. He’s not being haunted by visions twenty-four-fucking-seven or dealing with stupid burns or—or being creeped on by random hunters! Or throwing up at crime scenes!

Your eyes start to burn. You glare harder at the wall, and force yourself not to take this out on him.

Sam’s hand goes to move off your shoulder, but something changes his mind and he keeps it there for another lingering moment. “Look at me a second.”

You force yourself to look at his face. As mad as you are, the boy-crazy teenage girl in your head gets one look at him and squeals into her pillow.

“Go easy on yourself,” he says, softer than before. “Really. Nobody’s built for this kind of thing.”

You want to scream. Me! I am! I’m built for this! But you’re not a teenager anymore, so you compose yourself, sigh, and tell him, “...I’ll try.”

Instead of getting up, Sam stares at you for a long beat. There’s something in his eyes you can’t describe, and his hand is still on your shoulder, tethering the two of you to each other. Your mental teenage girl is about to succumb to romantic psychosis when Sam’s greenish eyes find something else to look at, and he passes you something from his pocket.

He mutters something like feel better and gets up, leaving you with a shard of metal about as long as one of your fingers. He doesn’t explain what it is to you. He doesn’t tell you what to do with it. Because you’re a hunter, dammit, and Sam knows you can handle yourself. His warm, calloused palm slips off your shoulder and you get the impression that he was never using any kid gloves with you to begin with.

Sam leaves. You stare at the shard as the Impala slinks out of the parking lot. Just by touch, you know it’s a piece of flight 2485’s fuselage.

…You do as Sam asked, and go easy on yourself. After a shower, a little teeth-brushing, and a lot of mints, you’re feeling way less gross and a lot more like a hunter. The whole time you pour through research on your laptop, you rub the shard of flight 2485 between your fingers and sort through what this thing could be. Inhuman strength. Uses a vessel. Black eyes. Black smoke.

Nobody’s built for this kind of thing, Sam had said, and he’d been wrong. You’d been honing this Gift before you’d even known you’d had it. Most of your life had been spent learning every kind of divination under the sun, so there was no way this thing could hide from you.

You started easy, reading the shard through psychometry. The nauseous feeling rose up inside you again, and again, you heeded Sam’s warning and chose to push away from it. You tried numerology, which felt like a push in the right direction; 2458 wasn’t relevant, and though 7 survivors could mean something interesting (luck, the union of the physical and the spiritual, yadda yadda), your gut told you it was something else. The plane crashed 40 minutes in. Biblical numerology, maybe? Promising. But also potentially terrifying.

When your bone casting read felt flat and uninspired, you defaulted to the simplest method you could think of. Tarot.

The first time you’d seen an apparition, your mom had scooped you up into a massive hug and paraded you around the house, declaring to the spirits of the underworld that a new heavyweight champ had entered the ring. (This became a lot funnier the older you got). You were bought ice cream and root beer and told in a thousand ways, subtle and unsubtle, that this was a good thing. One of the ways Beth convinced you was with her childhood tarot deck, which she’d gifted you that day.

You turned the cards over in your hands, imbuing the worn-smooth texture of the paper with the feelings from your vision. The first card you pulled was done on nothing but pure instinct. And the second. By the third, you shuffled the deck as thoroughly as possible, but the answer was still the same every single time. You’d never pulled the same exact card three times. All at once, things pulled together—the overwhelming sense of evil, the human host, the numerology, the way it sucked up death like a goddamn sponge—no survivors, it’d said on the EVP. Holy shit.

You were dialing Dean’s number the second you set the card down. He answered on the second ring, and spoke at the exact same time as you—

“It’s a demon."

Underneath the illustration were two blemished words. The Devil.

tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looouou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoonn

NEXT PART: phantom traveler, p.3.

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester fic recs #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #pythia #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural rewrite

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writeandsurvive · 1 year

Text

Doubts ~ Alden Parker 2/2

Summary: Alden Parker reconnects with his first love and it gets him all confused Pairing: Alden Parker x Fem!Reader Words count: 5.5k Warnings: age gap relationship, pregnancy talk, mention of dissociation Author's note: it's been a while since I wrote for Alden and I definitely didn't expect for it to be this long, nor take this way either but here we are. I'm giving myself to opportunity to write sequel fics with that ending, cause you never know. I hope you're enjoying it <3 love!

Around lunch time, he received a text from Jeremy.

‘Wanna come over with your lady tonight?’ He didn’t answer immediately because he didn’t know.

A couple hours later, it was your turn to text him.

‘Jer is inviting us for dinner tonight. I’m down! You?’

He can leave Jeremy on read but he can’t do it to you.

‘Not sure, day’s a mess.’

More like his head is a mess.

‘Is it okay if I go anyway? You can join if you leave work early enough.’

‘Of course, go! I’ll keep you posted.’

‘Works. Love you, Superman! ❤️’

‘Love you too’

“You look miserable, Parker.” Nick Torres informed him as he grabbed a pastry still sitting on Alden’s desk.

“Thanks, Torres?”

“I bet it’s past days haven't been easy for you. When are we going to meet the future Mrs Parker?”

“Don’t know. We got some stuff planned already.”

“You know she can just stop by.” Jess chimed in.

“Been there, done that. Nope.”

“Alden” it was Tim’s turn to join, “We’re not jerks from the FBI, you know?”

“I don’t worry about you guys. But—“ his hand gesture showed off the entire headquarters, meaning everyone else.

“I know what’s going on!” Jess interjected, earning puzzled looks from her coworkers. “You’re gatekeeping her.”

“Gatekeeping?”

“Kasie told me how pretty she is. And she’s younger than you.”

“We established that.”

“You are afraid someone in here, in her age rank, will try to swoop her away from you.”

Alden let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, Jess, I’ve seen many people try and fail. Right in front of me. I’m not worried about that.”

“Or maybe she’s just good at hiding it.” Nick grinned at his team leader.

“Torres, shut up.”

“Gatekeeping.” Jess said, again. And Tim and Nick repeated it as agreements.

Alden Parker wasn’t sure what drove him to Joy’s house once again. He didn’t even know why he drove for two hours before going there, just to get her favorite pastries from when they were kids. The case is done, and he should put this behind him like it’s been all of those years. But when she opened the door and welcomed him inside, he smiled.

They settled at the table with coffee and pastries, and started to talk. It was about the case this time, it was about them. Their past, what happened, how they felt. What their lives became from there. He learned that his ex wife Vivian visited Joy after their divorce because she “wanted to see the woman she fought against through the entire marriage.”

“That’s very stupid.” He said “And I’m sorry she actually came to see you.”

“It’s okay, at least I knew about how your life turned out. But it was fifteen years ago. What happened after that?”

You. He met you several years after his divorce, but that was the only answer he wanted to give. You happened, and you made his life a thousand times better.

“I'm getting married in two months.”

“Oh! I didn’t—well, congratulations, Park. Kids? Stepkids perhaps?”

“No and no.”

“Do you regret not having kids?”

Alden rubbed his face before answering. “I’m sorry, maybe you don’t want to talk about—“

“She’s younger than me. Young enough to get pregnant, so—“

“Okay, back up. When you say younger than you—?”

“Ryan’s age.”

“You kidding me right now?”

He shook his head no.

“Park, what the hell! Are you seriously getting married to a girl who could be your daughter?”

“Please, don’t, Joy. I’ve had this conversation too many times, I’m not having it with you.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s—“

“Wrong? Bad? Sick? Perverted? Trust me, I heard it all.”

“No, I was just going to say that—it’s too bad.” He looked up to her. “I was hoping you were single.”

He felt her hand on top of his. He knew he should’ve moved his hand away. He should’ve told her to back off, tell her that he wasn’t, and he was very happy about his life and upcoming wedding. But he let her. He let her intertwine her fingers with his. He even squeezed and she softly smiled. She got closer to him, and he didn’t move away. He saw her face approaching his, and he stayed there. Her lips touched his and he didn’t pull away.

When his phone buzzed, he basically jumped from his seat, stepping away from Joy. Confused and lost, he grabbed his phone and saw that Jeremy was calling. He cleared his throat before answering.

“Hey pal.” He tried to sound casual.

“Uncle Alden! Where are you? Are you coming?” Eli.

“Buddy, hey! I’m still at work, but I’m coming soon, okay? I hope you didn’t start eating without me?”

“No but hurry, you’re gonna miss the beginning of the game!”

“I’m on my way! I’m hurrying up!”

“Okay! But auntie said "drive safe.””

“Always.”

Joy was sitting at the table again. “My godson.”

“And he’s waiting for you, from what I understood.”

“Yeah, dinner and a baseball game.”

He grabbed his coat to put it on.

“Is she his godmother?”

“No, Eli was five when I met her. But I really don’t want to talk about her with you, Joy. That kiss shouldn’t have happened.” He started to walk towards the door.

“But it did and you didn’t fight. Not even for a second.”

And he hated that. He hated himself.

He opened the door.

“Maybe that wedding shouldn’t happen.” She said.

He closed the door.

It was probably one of the worst drive of his life. How could he let this happen? How could he do this to you? He never faulted when he was married to Vivian, or any other relationships, but he did it with you. You’re the most amazing thing that ever happened to him, the most precious person he could ever meet, and he betrayed you. And the worst part of this? He wasn’t sure it wouldn’t happen again. Because catching up with Joy does something to him. It makes him feel things he thought long gone. He makes him wonder a lot of things, and pretty much puts his whole life into perspective. What if he changed earlier and her parents didn’t move away? What if she answered his letters? What if life hadn’t separated them?

What if…

What if it was their second chance?

Alden knocked at the door and let himself in as usual. Eli came running to hug his godfather. Jeremy’s wife greeted him with a hug, the men greeted each other with their handshake, and his eyes laid down on you. You stood up from the couch with a soft smile. But he knows you well. He knows there’s sadness behind this smile. You probably could feel his internal struggle and was worried about it. But you were trying to hide it. “Hey you.” You whispered.

To your surprise, Alden pulled you into a hug before kissing your forehead and then your lips. It was brief, but nice.

You all settled in the living room, as the game was about to start. Jeremy’s wife had prepared some toasts and snacks to pick, and she served a beer to Alden. Eli was sitting next to his godfather, wearing his Cubs hat and you were on Alden’s other side. The game started, the conversations went from what you were watching to catching up with one another. Your fiancé and Jeremy talked about work here and there. You and his wife talked about the wedding, and she showed you some stuff she saw online. Lots of DIY.

“Let me just say it. Sweetie, my lovely wife here is just waiting for you to ask to do all those things for the wedding.” Jeremy said.

“Jer!!” His wife interjected.

“Do you really want to do all of this for us?” You asked her.

“Kinda. I mean, I love weddings and I didn’t get to plan ours cause I was very much pregnant. But yeah, I’d love to. If it’s okay with you of course.”

“Of course! I mean I’m good with planning, but decorations, ambiance, that’s not my strong suit.”

“Don’t worry about that then. I’m handling it.”

You hugged her and looked at Alden. He was physically there, but his mind was far away. You could tell.

“Den, you good with Becky taking care of the decor?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” He forced a smile. “Thank you Beck’s.”

You spent the rest of the game looking at your fiancé who was clearly avoiding your eyes, or actually you altogether. He was focusing on the game with Eli, shouting at the TV here and there. Becky made small talk with you and you answered, doing your best to hide how you were really feeling. At half time, Jeremy invited Alden to the backyard. “You good, man?”

“Yes, just tired. Long week.”

“Meeting again with your first love.”

Alden didn’t take the slug he was about to. He stopped, staring at his best friend.

“She told you?”

“Of course. She’s worried, Alden.” Jeremy waited for Alden to say something but he just stared at his beer. “Is she right to be worried?”

He looked up to his best friend but this time, he had tears in his eyes. Still unable to say anything, he just shook his head. Not as “no”, but as defeat. He was lost, and lost for words. Jeremy wheeled closer. “Did something happen?” He whispered.

“We kissed.”

“Alden.”

“I know, Jer. I’m—horrible. Doing this to her? I hate myself for it, I would kick my own ass if I could.”

“Look. If it was just a kiss, I’m sure she can get past it. She’ll give you hell for it though.”

Alden stayed silent again.

“Was it more than a kiss?”

“No, no! Just that. But—“

Jeremy was starting to understand.

“Parker, don’t tell me you’re questioning everything right now?”

“I’m lost, Jer. I love Y/N so much, she’s my world. But I can’t shake the feeling that— Joy reappeared for a reason. You know?”

“And that reason was her stupid ass son.”

“He’s a good kid.”

“Don’t. I’m not going to support this bullshit, Alden.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means—if you end it with Y/N to get back to Joy, you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You’ll regret it faster than you can imagine and believe me, I’ll be right here to say “I told you so””

“Thanks for your support, friend.”

“You’re my brother and I love you, and it’s my job to tell you when you’re being the biggest idiot.”

Alden drank the rest of his beer in one swallow. Jeremy wasn’t moving. He was waiting for his best friend to come to his senses.

“Will you take care of her?” Alden asked.

“What?”

“If I— make the biggest mistake of my life. Will you take care of her?”

Jeremy only saw Alden crying twice. After the accident, and at this very moment. He seemed heartbroken and genuinely torn apart by what he was feeling. Jer wanted to shake him off, but realized there was no point.

“Yes. We will.” He reassured him.

Inside the house, you were playing on your phone with Eli. When the commercials were over, he stood up to get his dad and goddad but came back quickly without them. “Auntie. Uncle Den is crying!”

“What? Are you sure?”

He nodded so you rushed to the backyard. Eli was right. Alden was crying. You immediately kneeled down in front of him, and grabbed his face. “Alden baby, what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

He loosely wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. You looked at Jeremy for some answers but he avoided your eyes.

“Sorry for that? Alden, look at me. Talk to me.”

“Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you what? What do you want me to forgive you for?”

You tried to grab his face to make him look at you but he fought off and kept his head in your neck.

“Joy.” You simply said.

Alden didn’t answer but he held you tighter. As if he knew you were about to pull away from him. Jeremy was still avoiding your eyes.

“Did you sleep with her?”

You were getting angry at his avoidance. You shouted his name, so he would stop hiding in your neck and holding you so tight you couldn’t escape. “Answer the goddamn question. And fucking let go of me.”

His hold loosened a little, and his face rose up. He looked pitiful. “Did you sleep with her?” You repeated, sharper this time.

“We kissed.” He whispered, avoiding your eyes.

You didn’t react immediately, just took some sharp deep breaths. He kissed her. He kissed someone else. It was breaking your heart, but at the same time, maybe it was better than him sleeping with her like you thought. You could get over a kiss, right? You could forgive him for being lost for a moment.

“Was that all?” You asked, afraid of the answer.

He nodded, but kept avoiding your eyes.

“Fucking look at me, Alden.”

He did. Slowly. You were mad at him, hurt and felt betrayed. But you loved him beyond words, and most importantly, you didn’t want to lose him over a kiss.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m lost.”

“What do you mean, you’re lost?”

Alden was nervously rubbing his hands and he looked down at his feet again. You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Stop stalling.” You were getting angrier and angrier.

“I just–I don’t know what to say, sweetheart. I’m sorry for the kiss, for doing this to you. I hate myself for it.” He gently grabbed your hand that was still on his face and covered it with both his hands. “But I– I don’t know what I want anymore.”

You instantly took your hand off his despite the grip he had on it and you leaned back. Away from him. The tears that had been frightening to fall were now rolling down your cheeks.

“You don’t know if– you want to be with me or with her?” You sum up.

“Baby, I–”

“You’re telling me that– you’re ready to throw everything away. The past two years we’ve had together, our upcoming wedding, projects we have– for an ex, that you hadn’t seen in forty fucking years? That’s what you’re saying, Alden? You saw her only days ago, but you’re willing to risk losing me over her?” You didn’t know how you manage to say all of this despite feeling your throat closing in. You were choking up, but you needed to understand. You needed him to speak up, no matter how bad it could hurt.

“I just need some time.”

At this moment, you stood up so fast your head spinned for a second. Or maybe it was the shock of what was happening.

“Time? You need time?” You started to move like a lion in a cage, fighting off your tears as much as you could. Alden stayed seated, looking down at his shoes again. “Look at me you fucking coward.”

You knew this word would get a reaction out of him. He stood up too, grabbed your face to make you stop moving.

“I love you.” he choked up. “But I need closure.”

Those words broke your heart. You knew what it meant.

You pulled your face off his grip, looked down at your engagement ring for a moment before taking it off and putting it in his palm. “Go for it.”

You walked past Jeremy, Becky and Eli - who didn’t understand what exactly was going -, grabbed your stuff and left.

It’s been a week.

A week since you last saw Alden, a week since he broke your heart into thousands of pieces. A week since you walked home and trashed his greenhouse, because you couldn’t control yourself nor your pain. You knew it wasn’t a way to react, that it was impulsive, but when you got home to get some stuff, you looked around in tears. You saw pictures framed of the two. You didn’t mean to throw it on the floor at first but as you held it, you got madder at his face. His smile. You couldn’t hit him, but you could destroy that picture. From this, you completely dissociated, walked into the greenhouse and broke everything. Throwing the pots on the floor, ripping his flowers, destroying his expensive telescope. In retrospect, you’re mad at yourself for doing all of this, and even considered apologizing to him via text. But you never brought yourself to do it. Not even when he texted to check up on you or tried to call.

You considered going over to Tay’s house, but decided against it and found a hotel to stay in. You didn’t want to see anyone, face anyone. You couldn’t face reality. For an entire week, you stayed in, barely ate, only texted Tay and Jeremy to let them know that you were indeed alive. But that was it.

Alden has been miserable through the entire week. Barely slept or ate, he wasn’t even bringing pastries to his team anymore. He met with Joy a couple of times but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t push her away when she kissed him, but stopped her when she wanted more. She said she understood it wasn’t easy for him, that she’d give him time to process the breakup, but the next minute, she was all over him. This wasn’t going the way he imagined. He was more lost than a week prior, because living without you felt impossible. He knew he couldn’t have it both ways, that he needed to make up his mind and stick to it. But all he’s been wanting to do was seeing you and holding you.

He remembers coming home after that night at Jeremy’s and finding the pictures framed all over the floor and the greenhouse completely trashed. He deserved it. He spent hours cleaning, saving what could be saved. He tried to repair his telescope, even asked Tim for some help but his younger coworker told him he may as well buy a new one.

The team was worried about their leader and they were thinking about interfering. They didn’t know exactly what had happened, but they were investigators so they figured out the big lines.

“No pastries today?” Nick asked Jess and Tim as he walked into the bullpen. He saw Parker’s coat on the back of his chair so he knew the senior agent was already in.

“Nope. And he’s in a mood.”

“Did you find his fiancée?” He asked Tim.

“I didn’t like doing it, but yeah, she registered in a hotel last weekend. Been there since.”

“So they are officially broken up?” Jess joined.

“Looks like it.”

“Boy, I hope he’s not seeing this Joy woman.”

Of course, this was the sentence Alden heard as he came back from accounting. “Gossiping about my love life? Seriously, don’t you have anything better to do?”

“We’re just worried about you, Parker.” Nick told him.

“I don’t need you to worry about me! I don’t need you to figure out where Y/N cause I already know! And I most definitely don’t need you to do something about it! Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.” They all agreed.

He stayed a long time at the office after everyone was gone. He didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. It still smelled too much like you, your presence was overwhelming as all your stuff was still there. Not that he wanted you to come get them.

It was the middle of the night when he got back to the apartment. And when he heard noises coming from the bedroom, he immediately reached for his gun and slowly walked towards the noises. “Federal Agent!” He called out. “Come out with your hands in the air!”

As he was about to reach the door, it opened to you. You were completely unbothered by his gun pointing at you, just walked past him to go to the bathroom. But you were stopped by his hand grabbing your wrist. He whispered your name, shocked to see you here. “Wh–What are you doing here? How are you?”

“I live here.” You just answered. “You want me gone? Then throw me out.” You tried to keep walking to the bathroom but Alden didn’t let go of your hand.

“No, no! I don’t want you gone! I–I’m not throwing you out. Wasn’t in the first place. I’m just–I didn’t expect to see you here. You’ve been ghosting me.”

“Oh and that surprised you?”

“I guess not, I just– I didn’t want things to happen the way it did.”

“Look Alden, I’m about to pee myself here. So let me tell you why I’m here. I’m not going to make this easy on you. You want to see her? Fine. But you’re not doing it here. You’re stuck between me and her? Too bad, I’m not leaving my spot. Also, you’re making all the calls for the wedding. You’ll call the guests, the caterer, the venue, the minister and tell them you’re canceling it. You should deal with the consequences and I’ll make sure that you do.”

You pulled your hand away and he let go. You really needed to pee. And when you got out of the bathroom, he was still there. Leaning against the wall, jacket off and gun pulled away. He looked miserable. But it was all his fault.

“I’m not seeing her.” He informed you. “I just said I needed time.”

“So what? I should’ve stayed here, and waited until you may or may break up with me? Sit here and wonder if you’re coming home late because you’re with her?”

“Isn’t that what's gonna happen now that you’re here?”

You let a humorless laugh. “You didn’t get it. I’m here because this is my home. My name is on the lease, I pay half of the rent, my whole life is in here. I’m not giving that up, whether or not we’re broken up. And if that causes you trouble, then perfect.”

“So, we’re like what? Roommates?”

“If you want to put a label on it. You ruined my heart, Alden and I’m letting you ruin my whole life.”

“I never asked you to leave, Y/N!” His voice rose up, as he was getting angry. “I never wanted you out of my life! I didn’t even want to cancel the wedding, okay? All I needed was to figure things out!”

“But it wasn’t figuring out what suit you’re going to wear! It’s figuring out if you want to be with me or with her! Do you honestly think I would marry someone if I’m wondering if he really wants me?”

“Wait–” he stayed silent for a second, taking a deep breath. “Are you saying that–if I tell you I still want to marry you in two months, you wouldn’t want to?”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering if you’re still thinking about her.” You didn’t know why but your voice got softer at this moment.

His eyes started to watered. “I kinda feel like you’re actually breaking up with me, right now.”

You silently cried for a moment. “You broke my heart, Alden.” you whispered. “I felt betrayed and rejected, like I’ve felt my entire life until I met you.”

Alden fell down against the wall until his butt hit the floor. He was silently crying, hating myself even more. “Then–Why are you here?” He struggled to ask.

You kneeled in front of him. “Because I’m pregnant.”

Alden’s brain froze for a very long moment. Did he hear you right? or was he hallucinating? Was it a dream? Were you really pregnant? With his baby? He stared a blind spot for several minutes, but finally looked back at you. He wanted to smile. Despite the horrible circumstances, despite how you got to this point. You were pregnant. You were carrying his baby. Silently, he extended his arms, tentatively trying to touch your stomach. But you stopped him. “Don’t just yet.” It hurt you more than you could’ve imagined to say those following words, “I’m considering abortion.”

His brain froze again for a moment.

“Wait, what? No!” He got on his knees. “Princess! No. I know it’s your body, but I probably shouldn’t be doing this but please, let’s talk about this. You’re pregnant.” More tears fell down his cheeks, but it wasn’t sadness. “You’re carrying our baby.”

“Alden—“ you choked up. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, please.”

“I can’t let you have abortion without talking it through. I can’t.”

“I said I was considering it.” This time, he managed to hear his hands on your stomach and you didn’t pull away. You were ugly crying by now. “That’s not how I imagined this would go. It should’ve been the most amazing news of our lives, but now—it feels wrong.”

“Wrong? That’s the furthest thing from wrong.” He gently held your face. “It’s far from ideal, it’s—messy if you want to put it that way. But we can figure it out. We can make it work, one way or another.”

“I don’t want to do the coparenting thing, Den. I want to raise my baby with its father, my husband.”

“And I want to kiss you right now.” He whispered.

“Please don’t. Don’t choose me because I’m pregnant. I could never be happy with that.”

“I understand. Really, I get it.” Silence filled the room again, except for sniffing and deep breaths coming from both you and Alden. “How about we get up now and sleep on it? You can take the master bedroom.”

You followed his lead and stood up. “Did you really think I’d sleep in the guest room?”

He chuckled softly. “Of course not. I just need my shorts and phone charger.”

Neither of you slept.

You didn’t want to tell him about the pregnancy just yet, nor like that. You wanted to wait a little and see how things were, see if being around him could help you make a decision. But he knows now, and it may have been easier if he said he didn’t want this baby.

But Alden wanted this baby. He’s never been this close to being a dad. No woman has ever been pregnant with his baby. And the fact that it’s you—he wants to erase those past two weeks. Erase his doubts, erase his behavior, erase the hurt and pain he caused you. He never doubted his love for you, though. He knows what happened in his mind, he’s known before tonight. Maybe he should just face it and admit it to you.

You woke up in the morning to the smell of food. Your favorite breakfast food and it both made you hungry and nauseous. You rushed to the bathroom as soon as your eyes opened, and Alden immediately joined you as he saw you running. He kneeled down next to you, holding your hair as your morning sickness hit. He gently rubbed your back. Once you were done, you sat on the floor against the wall. “I’ll get you water.”

“No. Give me my toothbrush first.”

He stood up, grabbed your toothbrush that you left there (you only packed a few clothes the week prior and bought the rest), added some toothpaste on it and handed it to you. You brushed your teeth while staying on the floor.

“Do you want me to carry you to the couch?”

“I’m pregnant, Alden, not invalide.”

You walked to the kitchen with your baby daddy on your toes.

“I cooked but I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to eat. Or maybe you want something else? Any cravings?”

You sat at the kitchen island and buried your face in your hands. “Alden, stop. Don’t act like your usual loving and caring self.”

“Ooookay. What am I supposed to do then?”

“I don’t know.”

He put a big glass of water in front of you and sat on the stool next to yours. He made you spin so you were facing each other. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You took a deep breath, “I’m listening.”

“I always knew I’d come back to you.”

“What?”

“I needed closure with Joy. Subconsciously, I was hoping you’d let me—“

“Do your thing with her and wait patiently until you come back?”

He sighed. “It’s horrible, I know. It was selfish and wrong, and just plainly— jerk behavior.”

“I’d say asshole. Dumbass. Dickhead.”

He sadly chuckled. “Whatever word you want to use, they are all valid.”

“Basically, you wanted me to give you a pass on this.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“When did you reach that conclusion?”

“A few days ago. I ran into Max and his mom, and poor little guy was so upset at us—“

“Oh my god! His game!”

“Yeah. We missed it. And I tried to explain to him that we had some issues, and after he stopped pouting, he actually listened. I told him I’ve had a problem in the greenhouse and that I’d loved his help to get it back the way it was. And I guess from what I told him, he understood that you were temporarily away. And he told me, “We have to make the apartment spot clean for when Y/N comes back.” From there, my mind—“

Alden watched you as you stood up and went to get something from the closet. Then you walked towards the front door with a gift in your hands. “Where are you going?”

“Apologize!”

He didn’t move until you came back, which wasn’t long after and the gift was still in your hands. “They are not home, I’ll try again later.”

“He’s not mad at us, I made sure of it.”

“I know, but we promised we’d be there. And we didn’t show up, he probably felt so sad.”

Your emotions overwhelmed you and you started to cry there, sitting on the couch. Alden sat next to you, hesitating for a moment before hugging you. You didn’t push him away. “He still loves us.” He assured you.

“I still love you but it doesn’t make it okay.”

You regretted saying it as soon as it left your mouth, but Alden uncontrollably smiled. Silver lighting.

You let Alden hold you for a moment, because it felt nice on some levels. You still couldn’t believe what he put you through though. “We were doing so good.” You whispered.

“I know. I’m not even sure I understand myself.”

You stayed silent once more.

“So, you didn’t—sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Well—maybe you should.”

“Wait, what?” Alden shifted, clearly taken off guard. He gently grabbed your chin to make you face him. “Are you seriously telling me to sleep with someone else?”

“Yes.” You said with eyes full of tears. “Maybe that way you can totally put it behind you.”

“That’s—crazy. Absolutely crazy.” He moved down to his knees. “I couldn’t go that far, princess. I did see her and we—made out, if we can call it that. But it felt wrong, so wrong. I wasn’t kissing the right person. When she was touching me, I kept thinking that only you can touch me. Only you know how to touch me. My entire world felt out of place. I think the sixteen years old in me wanted it, but fuck I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m a stupid old man, who’s so in love with a woman too young for him. A woman who definitely deserves better, because she’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met and I failed her.” He held your face in his big soft hands, and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.” He kissed your nose. “I’ll make sure our little one knows how precious their mama is and that we are the luckiest.” You were both crying. “Please.” He added.

“You know those Moroccan pastries we had in a little shop in New York?”

“Sure. Kaab al ghzal.” He said in his best accent possible.

“I’m craving them.”

He chuckled softly. “Then I guess I’m going to New York.”

“Actually, I, um—there’s this new musical on Broadway—“

“Then I guess we are going to New York.”

“Two different bedrooms, Alden. Connecting at best.”

“I can deal with that. What else?”

“Your treat.”

“Obviously. That it?”

“You leave your phone here.”

Dilemma. He wouldn’t do it in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for his work. He’s technically off for the weekend, but being a Federal Agent comes with a lot of inconvenience, and being called at any time any day is one of them. But he saw in your eyes how serious you were. It wasn’t about his work, which is something you’ve always understood and were mostly okay with. It was about him showing you he meant every word he said.

“Let me just inform the team.”

#alden parker fanfic #alden parker imagine #alden parker #alden parker x reader #ncis reader insert #ncis fanfiction #ncis imagine #ncis #tim mcgee #nick torres #jessica knight #kasie hines #jimmy palmer

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enchantedblackrose · 2 years

Text

Not Pretty

Gif credit @haileyupstead

Jay Halstead/ Fem Reader Partner, mentions of Kim and Erin.

Summary: You and the other girls from Intelligence are sent to a nightclub, but the bouncer won't let you in.

Warnings: No canon timeline. Some swearing, feelings of not being pretty. A dude calls you ugly. Largely unedited but I'm tired of looking at it.

Author's note: I really thought I had such a good idea. Then I sat down to write this and omg this is just...idek. I'm sorry? It's nothing like I thought it would be. And I'm seriously doubting posting it. Huge thanks to Resa for talking it out with me otherwise I'd still be stuck hahaha

A contribution to @resanoona 's 3k Fiesta bingo! Square filled: Hurt Feelings

Not Pretty

"Not you," dripping with disdain and a sneer while the onlookers snicker, echoes in your mind as you sit on the bench in the locker room at the precinct, momentarily sidetracked from gathering your belongings.

You shouldn't be feeling like this. Sad. Defeated. The sense of utter failure lingering over you. You and the team made the bust. And yet all you hear is that bouncer's voice.

‐

Of course it's a frigid Chicago night as you stand outside the nightclub with members of your team undercover and underdressed. Your knee high boots help conceal your credentials as well as your backup piece, but your left little toe is already numb with pain and you're positive your heels are going to blister. You tug the bottom of your dress as if that will magically make it grow longer.

Kim playfully swats your hand. "Stop fidgeting."

"This dress is tiny and it's freezing," you stick your tongue out and she laughs at you.

"Yes, well in lieu of making your dress longer or warmer, try to relax," she offers you a tentative smile.

Through your earpiece, your partner's voice rings out, "She's right, y/n. You look...fine. just concentrate on the task." Feeling chastised, you scowl in Jay's general direction. He's somewhere in the crowd of people in line for the club in case there's trouble before you even get in. He somehow manages to catch your eye, before you plaster on the fakest of smiles.You turn to Kim just as Erin bounces up to you both, hooking her arms through Kim's elbow and yours. "Ladies! Let's get this started."

Laughing with each step, feigning flippant attitudes, you and the girls walk past the line, straight to the bouncer by the door. He barely glances up from his clipboard.

"Name?"

"You won't find our names on your list, but-"

"End of the line," he barks.

"Please," Erin pouts.

"He's just doing his job," Kim says. He looks up, appreciating the recognition. "We'll go," but none of you make to move. His eyes rake over your bodies. Erin acts as if she's about to move, but then tilts her head slightly.

"Are you Rob? Because my friend, Cassidy, was here two or three nights ago and she said you had all the right moves," she says, dropping the name of her CI.

He laughs, "You lot know Cass? That girl is wild. You party like her?"

"Harder," you say with a cheeky smile.

"And longer," Kim winks.

She and Erin giggle. You laugh a little late and very awkwardly. Rob moves finally granting entry.

You all move to go in, but he stops you.

"Not you," He sneers. Erin and Kim halt. "You two can go in. She has to wait." They scoff and protest, but he's unwilling.

"Sorry no uglies." You feel your heart plummet; his words sting no matter how badly you wish they didn't. But even though you're hurt and angry, your face remains neutral. A group of smug girls on the other side of Rob snicker and point in your direction. Another wave of dejection hits you and you shove your emotions down again.

"Rob!" Erin scolds, but he shrugs, unabashed.

"It's fine," you force a smile, not wanting to waste any more time. "Go and I'll meet you inside." Kim, you can tell, is conflicted. Erin isn't happy. You wink and before you're even walking away, Voight's in your ear, instructing the other two to continue on as planned and for you to wait in line with Jay. You can't help but roll your eyes. Of course you were going to go wait with your partner. There was nothing left for you to do but wait. This whole night was going down as one of your worst.

Jay is towards the back of the line with only a few people behind him so no one is bothered when you take a place by his side.

"Do you want my coat?" His offer is genuine, but you hardly notice.

"No, I'm not cold anymore." It's true. Your anger is enough to warm you. You huff involuntarily. Jay notices how you don't look him in the eye.

He watches you carefully as to not earn your attention. Your jaw is set tight. Y/e/c eyes unblinking, fixated on up ahead. Your tongue presses to your cheek. Arms fold across your chest. Your order to join him has clearly irritated you.

Minutes pass by with the line never really moving. Jay notes how you look down at your dress. You ran a hand over it to unnecessarily smooth it out. You shift uncomfortably in your boots. Jay starts to think maybe there's more to your bad mood. It wasn't just Voight, but that asshole bouncer, too. Jay's jaw clenches tightly. He starts to put a hand on your shoulder when you both hear the order to move in.

"Chicago PD, you guys need to leave!"

"Get outta here." Together you and Jay clear all civilians before entering the club.

Erin's CI had given incredibly accurate intel. Plenty of arrests and drugs were seized. Lives were no doubt saved.

"Hey y/n, we're gonna go to Molly's for celebratory drinks," Kim's voice is extra soft, weary even, sensing your bad mood, but not knowing the best way to approach you. "You coming?"

"I already have plans," you lie with ease and a cheery smile a bit too big to be sincere. "Thanks though!" Kim looks like she wants to press on, but ultimately decides against it.

As she walks away, you sigh. If she and Erin hadn't teamed up with you, if you had attempted to get in the club alone, would the team still have made arrests and confiscated all the drugs? It was unlikely. Moving fast was key and you would have been forced to wait in that line. And while it had been Erin's CI providing some crucial facts, this had been your case. You couldn't even get into the club because you're not pretty. Hot tears prick your eyes. You hastily wipe them away.

Your club dress lays angrily thrown in your bag. Your boots too. Now sporting sweat pants and your PD tee, you remain on the bench, waiting for the laughs and voices of your colleagues to die down. You give extra time even, not wanting to catch any of them in the parking lot. But even when the silence settles in, you don't move. You're alone for five minutes when a voice comes from behind you, startling you.

"What are you doing?"

Your hand flies over your chest. "Jeez, Jay. I thought you left with everyone else." You let out a breath.

"Why aren't you at Molly's?"

"I told Kim. I have plans."

"I don't think you do." He crosses his arms over his chest as he comes to stand closer to you.

Annoyance sets in. You zip shut your go bag before standing up and slamming your locker door close. "Well I do, so if you'll excuse me…"

Jay doesn't budge. "No. Because you're lying and I want to know why."

"I don't appreciate being called a liar."

"I don't appreciate you taking me for an idiot. Your only plans must be a large pizza at home on your couch alone because you don't go out in sweats, except to the gym. And you never go there on Friday nights. So tell me. Why are you letting what some idiot said bother you?"

You're beyond stunned by just how well Jay knows you. It reminds you how much you love him, not only as your partner, or a friend, though you would never, ever, confess it. Tonight being the perfect reminder, you're not enough.

But his astute knowledge of you, has left you feeling vulnerable and angry. You need to get away. From him. From work. From your emotions.

"I'm not talking about this with you. Now move."

"No."

"Jay, I swear-"

"What are you going to do?" His frustration with you seems to grow with every second. Those normally light eyes of his are turning dark. His voice is slightly raised.

You've seen Jay mad before, but not with his anger directed at you. It only seems to fuel your temper. "Why are you being such an ass about this?" You snap.

"Why are you being so stupid about this?" He shouts.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Don't fucking yell at me and do not call me stupid."

"I'm thinking you might be if I'm right and you're all upset because some lowlife bouncer said-"

"Oh for fuck's sake! I'm upset because what he said is true. I'm not pretty. I look nothing like the other girls. It's not like I haven't noticed. This isn't about just one guy. It's about me. I never get hit on when I go out. I never had a lot of dates when I was younger. It's fine. There's so much more to life. It just stirred up some bad feelings. And this sounds silly to you, I'm sure, but there it is, Jay. Your partner isn't pretty. And it almost cost us the case! I almost cost us the case because I'm not pretty," your voice breaks at the end. Tears threaten to spill, But you stiffen your lip instead. You look Jay in the eyes.

He's shaking his head. "You're wrong. You're fucking beautiful, y/n."

You don't think you heard him correctly, "...What?"

"I," he pauses, nervously licking his lips before continuing, "You're my partner and I know it's inappropriate, but I just," he sighs, like he's losing an argument with himself, and then with one step towards you he closes the space between the two of you. His mouth is on yours, tongue begging for yours.

Once you have time to react and reciprocate, he gently pushes you into the lockers, deepening the kiss. His one hand rests on your hip. The other cups your chin, desperate to bring you impossibly closer. Your hands stay at your side, unable to process what is happening. The only thing you're able to do is kiss Jay back.

A moment passes before he pulls away. His kiss has left you breathless and feeling dazed. When you finally manage to look him in the eyes, you see his face is much more relaxed now.

His tone is gentler, too. "It's unfair how beautiful you are. Your face is so soft and lights up every time you smile. Your eyes twinkle after you've been laughing. And you're smart. You're good despite all the bad we see. And you're sexy, y/n. When I saw you dressed for the assignment tonight, I-," he doesn't finish the statement, rather a pink tinge spreads across his cheeks.

"But you never said anything. I didn't know…"

"Now you do. Maybe you'll see it for yourself now." Between his kiss and his words, you can hardly think. Jay takes your silence as an opportunity to apologize. "I never meant to call you stupid, but I really didn't. It was implied that I thought you were being stupid, and though there's a difference, that wasn't cool either. I honestly couldn't understand you being hurt by someone's words, especially when they were so wrong. I had no idea you had no clue how pretty you truly are or that your feelings about this stem so far back. I didn't get it and I'm sorry y/n."

"It's fine, Jay. I don't exactly go around broadcasting my insecurities."

"I could've been more sensitive."

"Maybe. That kiss helped a bit," you quip, finally feeling more like yourself.

Jay's grin is almost smug. "Oh yeah? Well in that case, since I know you're not doing anything, how about we get a pizza, take it back to my place and then later I'll show you just how beautiful you are to me?"

Wordlessly, almost like you still can't believe what's happening, you nod. Jay takes your bag in one hand, and intertwines your fingers through his with the other. Hand in hand you leave the precinct.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #resa.3kfiestabingo #jay halstead x y/n

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

Text

Crossroads part I

Title: Crossroads part I.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1093 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: N3 Free

Summary: Steve and you separate because he didn’t put enough attention to you.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, break up, sad, loneliness.

A/N: This my entry to @allcapsbingo. This two-shot is based on the song 別れ道 (Wakaremichi) by The GazettE. AC1078.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

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Steve knew something was not right when he entered the house where they lived. He could feel that the atmosphere was not the usual; it felt too strange. He held his shield tightly just in case since he doubted they had visitors.

There was a possibility that some enemies had entered, but he relaxed when he saw you sitting in your favorite armchair in the living room.

"Hello, I'm home," he said.

"Steve, we need to talk," you replied seriously.

"Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not fine; nothing is fine," you said.

"What's wrong? You're worrying me."

"We need time." You held your breath for a few seconds.

"We have it now, tomorrow I don't have any mission and according to our board neither do you," Steve was confused.

"I don't mean that the house is yours; I will leave tomorrow morning; the house is yours," you answered.

"I don't understand."

"We need time, but apart, without seeing each other," you said.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Steve felt his heart skip a beat; he never thought it would ever happen.

"Not exactly, it's a separation; we are not breaking up, just having time for each other," you explained.

"I need to know the reasons," he demanded.

"I'm not tired of you; I'm tired of the situation; with so many missions, we hardly see each other; I think this month is the first time you come home," you continued talking.

"There's no one else if that's what you're thinking," Steve suddenly said. For a moment, he was afraid you thought he was cheating on you, when in fact he was very busy with S.H.I.E.L.D. work.

"I know; I know you're not capable, but I think it's time we split up." Get our priorities in order and do some things we want to do.

"Is that what you think?" he asked.

"That's what I'd like, and I'd like you to agree too."

Steve nodded; he had no choice but to agree, but deep down he was afraid.

The next morning came, Steve preferred to sleep on the couch, and you had made it very clear that nothing was going to happen that night.

It was the first breakfast you had in sepulchral silence. After that, you took your bags; it was time to leave; you didn't know if you should say goodbye or say something. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, Steve spoke.

"Wait just a moment, don't leave yet," he said, causing you to waver in your decision for a moment, did you really want to separate?

"What's wrong?" You left the suitcases on the floor.

"Are you sure?" "We could see how we work this out; you don't need to leave," Steve insisted.

"We need time for everything we each want to do Steve, really, it will only take a while," you picked up the suitcases again.

"Bye, I'll see you again." Take care. You said goodbye, and inside, you hoped he would really think it over and pick you up in a couple of weeks.

"Bye, we'll definitely see you again, right?" Steve moved a little closer to you, but not close enough to touch you.

"It's a promise," you answered. Many times they had made promises, and so far they had all been kept.

"I will never forget you." "Don't change; stay the person I love," Steve asked you.

You nodded, took the missing suitcase, and left the house. You were going to stay a few days at one of your friends' houses while your apartment was ready.

"One day, we will be able to laugh again, like two people who will never be separated again," Steve thought. He had the firm intention that soon they would come back and be together again; they just needed some time apart so that each one could do what they needed to do.

He also understood that you needed him to be more present, but at the same time they both knew how hard it was to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., plus he had to do other work-related things as well, not that he liked them; most of it was going to schools, giving interviews, etc., which he couldn't refuse.

Several times he was tempted to dial your number; however, the deal was that they would have no contact or communication unless it was exaggeratedly necessary, i.e., they had an assignment together or were going to talk about the situation.

Many times he wondered what you would be doing if you would be happy if you were having fun. He wasn't being happy; he wanted to see you again and be together again.

It had been six months now, and Steve couldn't deny that he felt so lonely and incomplete without you, but up to that point they hadn't had missions together, so he always wondered if you would feel the same if you missed him as much as he missed you.

July 8th

"I wonder if you'll remember our first meeting," Steve thought as he looked at the calendar. That day was their anniversary.

He didn't know if they would do anything special, as they did every year, given the circumstances.

He also contemplated sending you flowers but didn't want to break the deal they had made.

"Do your best," was what you always told Steve whenever he felt things were too complicated. It was what he always remembered every time he wanted to give up, but he wouldn't do it.

He picked up the cell phone and started looking for the number. Just as he was about to dial you, he stopped; he didn't want to bother you.

Similarly, at work, he had to restrain himself from looking for you; deep down, he was hoping you would show up and say something so maybe they could go celebrate.

That night was the first time Steve had cried since you left, he needed you, nothing was the same if you were gone.

He had gone over and over everything that had happened in their relationship; he already knew what mistakes he had made, and this time he would do much better. He just had to talk to you.

One year later

Steve picked up the phone and dialed you, but you didn't answer.

He would try again later; maybe you were on a mission. If you didn't answer the next day, then he would find a way for us to have a mission together so we could talk.

I will never, ever forget you.

#allcapsbingo #allcapsbingo2023 #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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iridescentoracle · 10 months

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you know what those last tags are getting their own post actually because it’s TRUE and it’s IMPORTANT

#also [slams fist on table] HOLMES SPENDS THIS ENTIRE CONVERSATION PRAISING AND THANKING WATSON #AND CALLING HIM INVALUABLE AND SAYING HE COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT WATSON'S HELP DAMMIT #he refuses to stop emphasizing how important watson has been to the case until watson smiles!!! #and even then he brings it up again later in the conversation more than once!!! #YES i am still holding a grudge against The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939) dir. Sidney Lanfield NO i will not let this go

'The surprise was not all on one side, I assure you. I had no idea that you found my occasional retreat, still less that you were inside it, until I was within twenty paces of the door.'

'My footprint, I presume?'

'No, Watson, I fear that I could not undertake to recognize your footprint amid all the footprints of the world. If you seriously desire to deceive me you must change your tobacconist, for when I see the stub of a cigarette marked Bradley, Oxford Street, I know that my friend Watson is in the neighbourhood. You will see it there beside the path. You threw it down, no doubt, at that supreme moment when you charged into the empty hut.'

'Exactly.'

'I thought as much - and knowing your admirable tenacity, I was convinced that you were sitting in ambush, a weapon within reach, waiting for the tenant to return. So you actually thought that I was the criminal?'

'I did not know who you were, but I was determined to find out.'

'Excellent, Watson! And how did you localize me? You saw me, perhaps, on the night of the convict hunt, when I was so imprudent as to allow the moon to rise behind me?'

'Yes, I saw you then.'

'And have, no doubt, searched all the huts until you came to this one?'

'No, your boy had been observed, and that gave me a guide where to look.'

'The old gentleman with the telescope, no doubt. I could not make it out when first I saw the light flashing upon the lens.' He rose and peeped into the hut. 'Ha, I see that Cartwright has brought up some supplies. What's this paper? So you have been to Coombe Tracey, have you?'

'Yes.'

'To see Mrs Laura Lyons?'

'Exactly.'

'Well done! Our researches have evidently been running on parallel lines, and when we unite our results I expect we shall have a fairly full knowledge of the case.'

'Well, I am glad from my heart that you are here, for indeed the responsibility and the mystery were both becoming too much for my nerves. But how in the name of wonder did you come here, and what have you been doing? I thought that you were in Baker Street working out that case of blackmailing.'

'That was what I wished you to think.'

'Then you use me, and yet do not trust me!' I cried, with some bitterness. 'I think that I have deserved better at your hands, Holmes.'

'My dear fellow, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down and examine the matter for myself. Had I been with Sir Henry and you it is evident that my point of view would have been the same as yours, and my presence would have warned our very formidable opponents to be on their guard. As it is, I have been able to get about as I could not possibly have done had I been living at the Hall, and I remain an unknown factor in the business, ready to throw in all my weight at a critical moment.'

'But why keep me in the dark?'

'For you to know could not have helped us, and might possibly have led to my discovery. You would have wished to tell me something, or in your kindness you would have brought me out some comfort or other, and so an unnecessary risk would be run. I brought Cartwright down with me - you remember the little chap at the Express office-and he has seen after my simple wants: a loaf of bread and a clean collar. What does man want more? He has given me an extra pair of eyes upon a very active pair of feet, and both have been invaluable.'

'Then my reports have all been wasted!' My voice trembled as I recalled the pains and the pride with which I had composed them.

Holmes took a bundle of papers from his pocket.

'Here are your reports, my dear fellow, and very well thumbed, I assure you. I made excellent arrangements, and they are only delayed one day upon their way. I must compliment you exceedingly upon the zeal and the intelligence which you have shown over an extraordinarily difficult case.'

I was still rather raw over the deception which had been practised upon me, but the warmth of Holmes's praise drove my anger from my mind. I felt also in my heart that he was right in what he said, and that it was really best for our purpose that I should not have known that he was upon the moor.

'That's better,' said he, seeing the shadow rise from my face. 'And now tell me the result of your visit to Mrs Laura Lyons - it was not difficult for me to guess that it was to see her that you had gone, for I am already aware that she is the one person in Coombe Tracey who might be of service to us in the matter. In fact, if you had not gone to-day it is exceedingly probable that I should have gone to-morrow.'

The sun had set and dusk was settling over the moor. The air had turned chill, and we withdrew into the hut for warmth. There, sitting together in the twilight, I told Holmes of my conversation with the lady. So interested was he that I had to repeat some of it twice before he was satisfied.

'This is most important,' said he, when I had concluded. 'It fills up a gap which I had been unable to bridge, in this most complex affair. You are aware, perhaps, that a close intimacy exists between this lady and the man Stapleton?'

[…]

'It is he, then, who is our enemy - it is he who dogged us in London?'

'So I read the riddle.'

'And the warning - it must have come from her!'

'Exactly.'

[…]

The darkness was rising, but much was still hidden by the shadows.

'If this woman is in truth his wife, where does Mrs Laura Lyons come in?' I asked.

'That is one of the points upon which your own researches have shed a light. Your interview with the lady has cleared the situation very much.

he simply will not stop telling watson how important he’s been and praising watson for keeping up with holmes’ train of thought!!!

#sherlock holmes #HOUN

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