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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny.

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s.

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back.

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow.

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it.

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry.

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand.

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny.

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears

#daniel michaelson's story #hospital whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced drug use #alcohol use #caretakers #caretaker and whumpee #whump #aftermath whump #the bad arc #injured whumpee #survivor's guilt tw

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

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The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana.

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together.

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT.

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him.

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so.

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill.

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself.

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning.

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color.

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater.

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other.

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish.

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh.

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell.

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it.

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him.

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening.

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

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thedumpsterqueen · 4 years

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Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning, Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch.

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously.

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi.

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true.

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none.

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.”

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together.

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic.

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer…”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it.

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm.

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!): @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester @honeyshores @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford @pipersaccomplice @itsmytimetoodream @groovygoob @captainhyenafan @thebadassbitchqueen

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Jinxed

A/n- this is the first time I’ve ever posted anything I’ve written! I finally worked up the courage!🤭 this is edited but not heavily just started writing once the idea popped into my head. also my other blog is April-14-blog where I do reposts. And sorry if the format is weird.

I think this is gender neutral but correct me if I’m wrong.

Warnings- pretty graphic (gunshot wounds, a really disturbing unsub, rape is mentioned) and some swearing. Fluff and angst. That’s all I can think of but let me know if I should add some more. Also the case is made up by me so the profiling bits are complete BS.

Masterlist

The team just bordered the jet onto our next case in Seattle. I was looking forward to the rainy weather it always made me feel cozy, which would probably help drive away the pit in my stomach that this case was already causing.

We see gruesome things every day, I had been working with the team since the aftermath of the Adrain bale case which caused the Bureau to lose six agents. It’s been 7 years now and I had never felt this way about a case before, the sense of disgust and dread infected my whole body.

I snapped out of my thoughts when Spencer came to quietly sit next to me on the couch, our normal routine cemented at this point. He paused opening the case files for review and looked at me curiously.

“Are you ok?” He barely whispers. He knows I almost never open up to anyone, himself included even though he was my best friend.

I turned my head abruptly away from him not wanting to make eye contact. Not wanting to admit that the guy who was eviscerating mothers and daughters was making bile rise up in my throat, making my heart sink into the floor, and sweating in anticipation of opening the case files again.

“I’m fine Spencie” I whispered back with a smile that definitely did not reach my eyes, using my cute nickname for him to hopefully quell any of the worry inside him. Still despite my efforts I could see he was not convinced.

“Ok Ace, just let me know. This case is getting to everyone already as well” He said smiling meekly and shooting back his own quirky nickname for me that I had achieved after I beat him in poker.

I shakily nodded at him opening the file with clammy hands, preparing myself for the team discussion.

Hotch finally boarded the plane and got right down to a heated discussion on this vile unsub’s violent hatred for women.

“Ok this is what I don’t get why does he take both mothers and daughters together? It’s an odd combination- he’s not a family annihilator otherwise he’d target whole families. He misses the dads, sons, and younger daughters” Derek chimes in quickly.

“Maybe it’s based off of some specific fantasy? Like his mother and sister or his wife and daughter? It’s more like a specific hatred towards a certain type of women and not just women in general” prentiss commented somberly , though I was part way listening. Reid then started rambling off statistics about female abusers and retaliation but it soared right over my head as my face paled looking at the crime scene photos.

They say Jack the Ripper was gruesome but this was on another playing field. After cutting the women up as precisely as possible to keep them alive he made the daughter shoot the mother (evidence from the gunshot residue on each set of daughters hands). Then he proceeded to rape the daughter repeatedly then shoot her as well, dumping them in the trash afterwards as a final insult to women’s bodies. The photo of the last set of 2 stared at me mockingly the daughters cold dead eyes and her entrails pierced into my very soul. I stood up abruptly shaking with a sheen of sweat over my forehead.

“Bella you ok?” Rossi asked in his concerned father tone. The whole team looked at me in concern ready to catch me if I suddenly fainted. I instead ran off as fast as I could in my heels to the airport bathroom ignoring the teams calls to me.

I emptied my guts into the toilet and suddenly started sobbing, I couldn’t banish the photos from my mind. The pictures of the 8 women dead never to see the light of day again.

I cleaned myself up but still didn’t leave the bathroom, planning on sitting out the rest of the 6 hour flight huddled in the corner.

I could hear the soft rap of Spencer’s fist on the door and even though he was the only one I’d ever consider talking to about this I ignored him instead bottling up my feelings like I’m used to.

At some point they decided to leave me alone until the plane landed, and as soon as it touched the ground I bolted out of their to avoid the questioning gazes. I found the nearest bureau SUV and shoved myself inside.

Luckily Spencer and jj were the ones to join me in the car, the ones who won’t push me to divulge why I was so affected by this case. It wasn’t some personal thing, just the brutality broke my mind into a bunch of little pieces.

Hotch thankfully let me stay with Spencer to do the geographical profile which gladly let me avoid the cork boards filled with photos as I stared at a map trying to pretend like I knew what I was doing.

The day dragged on slowly trying to pin the assailant down and thankfully tomorrow morning we were going to see a probable suspect. The team had all sat at the generous conference table at the Seattle field office as rain poured down while we ate some Chinese food. They mostly respected that I didn’t want to talk besides Derek who quickly learned his lesson when I chewed him out. I just wanted to talk about stupid shit with them not about the maniac with a knife and gun.

Somehow it became a competition of who had the most battle scars, Derek and Prentiss being the winners. I said nothing and only chuckled as they tried to count the amount of stitches in their head that they had gotten.

“What about you Y/N? You haven’t mentioned any of yours?” Prentiss chimed in teasingly trying to get me to join in as Hotch rolled his eyes not indulging in this dick measuring contest.

“Well I’ve never gotten stitches on a case or been shot not even in the vest to be honest. The worst I’ve gotten is a pistol whip which resulted in a bad concussion and like one broken rib” I quickly said.

“Oh you lucky duck, you must have a guardian angel” Derek slyly commented back. I shrugged my shoulders and quietly went back to picking at my food still feeling the eyes of the dead corpses on me.

As we headed back to our hotel for the night I started to feel the dread well back up again. We were probably going to apprehend this guy tomorrow, and even if this guy made me anxious without knowing him I was determined to be the one to cuff the sick fuck.

I felt a hand on my shoulder as I bounced down the hallway to my hotel room. I knew those hands, the long delicate fingers of Dr. Reid. I grabbed onto his soft palms and squeezed tightly, his calming presence always seemed to make me feel better. He finally spoke up softly almost inaudible.

“You don’t have to talk about what’s going on, I just want to be there for you.”

I nodded shyly and led him back to my hotel room. I sat on the bed with him and engulfed him in a hug needing to be close with someone. We sat there for what seemed like hours the clock seemingly stopped as time stood still.

I laid back, sighing as he spooned me, I always love spencer cuddles they made me feel so much warmer and happier even when it seems impossible. He slowly leaned forward and pressed a kiss into my hair, his comfort blurring the lines on what our relationship actually was. He then pressed a kiss on my shoulder but quickly pulled away as tensed up.

“No it’s ok I liked it you make me feel safe”

I said firmly, I then sighed feeling ready to open up to someone no matter how difficult it was for me.

“ it’s the eyes Spence, I can’t get them out of my head. I felt like I failed them and I didn’t even know them.” I started to sob quietly as Spencer pressed kisses into my collar bone and neck trying to get me to calm down.

“ I understand, I get the same way about some cases as well. Like every time I close my eyes they’re mocking me.” He commented softly into my ear, I sighed in relief, he understood my feelings. I reached up and stroked his cheek feeling the supple tan skin beneath my small fingers. He pressed another kiss, this time to my palm and my breath hitched. I never wanted him to stop kissing me everywhere, he made me feel safe a deep love one could only gain from years of trust. He looked at me with glossy eyes he had started crying as well at some point, I wiped away a tear from his eye and made a bold decision to pull his lips closer to mine.

I could tell he was shocked , I delicately placed my lips on his. I pulled back fearing he would grow uncomfortable, but he softly pushed his lips onto mine again slipping his tongue lightly. I didn’t fight the intrusion as it made me feel more enveloped and safe in his arms. We pulled away from each other though our lips were still so close that our hot breath was mingling with each others

“I-I don’t know what to-I say” he stuttered out softly palming my cheek.

“We can talk later about it right now I just want you to hold me and stay the night. Hopefully you’ll keep the nightmares away.” He nodded softly and returned to spooning me as I drifted off into sleep his presence making my dreams just a little better.

In the morning we both woke up softly next to one another, Spencer surprisingly kissed me one last time before quietly sneaking out of my room not wanting to hear the relentless teasing of our coworkers. I felt so much better about the case after the comfort from Spencer last night, I just wanted to catch the son of a bitch and make out with Spencer for the rest of my life.

I walked into the conference room this morning with an air of calm. the whole team could tell that something had changed my mood but they didn’t know what so they kept their mouths shut.

Hotch pulled me aside right as everyone left to find the suspect getting their Kevlar vests on just in case it went south.

“Will you be ok?” He questioned in his dad voice mirroring Rossi’s in a perfect rendition.

“I will be if you promise one thing.”

“What?” He asked curiously

“I get to take down the fucker and cuff him” Hotch nodded at my words understanding that something about this case affected me and that this would offer some comfort.

We all pulled up to the dingy warehouse that the suspect owned as it just started to pour again. The roof was so damaged that it seeped through in every room that we cleared. I rounded a corner with jj right next to me, we were down in the basement and the way my hair was standing on end I knew we were close.

We both suddenly heard a scream mixed with a sob of a women and bounded down faster to the source of the noise. I held my gun steady as I braced myself for the sight.

There was a girl around 16 holding a gun shakily in her hands as a tall brute of a man stood behind her with a glock at her temple. The mom was bleeding out cuts on every visible appendage, she looked as if she was about to pass out.

“Keith Portland, drop the weapon” I menacingly growled out as I approached him. Jj made her way over to the mom as I put myself between her and the guns.

“I guess you found me, took you guys long enough. I had to get more brutal so you would notice me.” My weapon faltered in my hands as the photos flashed before my eyes again, on top of this bastard mutilating women he was also an attention whore as well.

“Jj get her out of here!” I shouted as she got the women who was in critical condition untied. The man growled as I took away the object of his rage away from him.

“At least I still have the girl” he smirked out. I glanced towards the shaking teen trying to inspire confidence in my gaze towards her I would get her out of there.

“Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot you”

“Do you really think your quick enough to shoot me before the bullet gets lodged in her brain?” He mocked at me, Derek and Spencer suddenly creeped behind him being sent down by jj.

“No but three of us can take you down faster” Spencer boldly proclaimed

He tightened his grip on the girl trying to regain power. “I won’t go down without a fight!” He shouted almost choking her out, I could see his finger move towards the trigger and I prepared to fire. I wasn’t expecting him to pull the gun away from the girl’s temple as he fired off two rounds towards me.

“No!!” Spencer and Derek screamed as they both shot at the disgusting man known as Keith Portland.

At first I was confused why they were yelling I thought the bullets had missed me, but I suddenly felt a pain in my thigh and shoulder as I fell to the ground along with the unsub.

I slowly started to panic as blood started to pool into my mouth, I must’ve punctured a lung. I felt someone lift up my body into a lap.

“MORGAN-give me something to make a tourniquet with she has a punctured fem-femoral artery-y” Spencer quickly stuttered and shouted at Morgan. Derek shucked his jacked off and gave it to Spencer as they both put pressure on the wounds.

“We have an agent down, repeat we have an agent down I need medics in here right now!” Derek barked into the comms.

I wasn’t really sure what was going on- I couldn’t see anything everything was a blur. All I could focus was on the endless blood that seemed to be flowing out of my mouth and the intense pain that was ripping though me.

I screamed as Spencer tied the tourniquet around my thigh and he came up to cradle my head.

“Your going to be ok Ace, I promise.” He whimpered quietly as he wiped the blood from around my mouth.

I could only gasp as more pressure was placed on my shoulder by the medics that suddenly arrived. I faintly heard the team yelling and arguing in the background as I was loaded onto a stretcher with an oxygen mask over my mouth.

“Spencer stay with me please?” I rasped our at him.

He took my hand gently as we were both lead into the ambulance. “Spencer I love you” I coughed out as I thought this might be the only chance I could get to telling him.

I started to violently cough up blood and the medics started to intubate me, all I could hear was Spencer screaming back that he loved me as my world snapped black.

Pain. That’s all that I could feel, it felt like my whole body was on fire and I couldn’t breathe. I started choking at the intrusion that was in my mouth as I tried to blink open my eyes. The doctors finally took the tube out of my throat, and I gasped for breathe panicking.

“Y/N it’s me it’s Spencer you’re in a hospital you were shot!” He said trying to get me to understand.

I stopped thrashing and slowed my breathing as my eyes finally adjusted to the crisp whiteness of the hospital I was in.

“Hi I’m Dr. Grey” the doctor said gently “ you sustained a GSW to the upper right chest and right leg. Your right lung collapsed and you nicked your femoral artery. You’ve been on morphine and I can give you some more now that your up?” I nodded at her still a little delirious from waking up.

“How-how long was I asleep Spencer?” I said shifting my focus back to him. I got a good look at his short hair that looked as if he had been yanking on it, the purple bags under his eyes that were starting to water again in relief.

“God Y/N it’s been 2 1/2 weeks” he shakily said through blinking tears. “Had me so fucking worried” I snorted at his uncharacteristic swear.

“I have to almost die to get you to swear?” I chuckled out referencing an earlier ongoing argument. He laughed though you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“Did you mean what you said?” He questioned gently his hands in a fist together leaning on the bed.

I looked up at him with glossy eyes it all coming back to me, my deathbed confession to Spencer. “Of course I did Spencer” I reached up to stroke his cheek “I’ve loved you for a long time, though lately it has a deeper meaning” I looked at him through my glistening eyes.

We both didn’t need words as he leaned in to softly press his lips against mine.

“I love you” he quietly whispered against my lips

“I love you too” I answered in sincerity, I motioned first him to get up on the bed to cuddle with me. At first he objected but finally relented and spooned me in a similar way to the first night he kissed me. He pressed a soft lingering kiss to my head as I started to giggle.

“What?” He asked incredulously

“I just realized that I jinxed myself with that conversation with Morgan about not getting hurt” I giggled to myself quietly

“That’s not funny” he tried to say seriously staring at me “ok... maybe just a bit” he finally relented.

I started to close my eyes again feeling once again safe in Spencer’s arms. The enveloped warm feeling that I would never get over, even after we got married and had way too many kids all little geniuses of course. Though that was kind of far off. As they both fell into a deep sleep both relieved to be in each others arms again the team rounded the corner after hearing the news that you woke up. They stopped and smiled at the wholesome sight glad that something good came out of the shitty situation.

The End

🙌🏻 I actually did it 🤭

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer #jinxed

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imaginesupply · 5 years

Text

Warm me up - Loki x Reader imagine

Alright, so after complaining that no one had yet written a Loki imagine that included cockwarming, I decided to write one myself. Be aware that it’s 2am in Paris, that I haven’t written anything in ages and that English is still not my main language, so please forgive any weird wordings or mistakes you might find in this. I did proofread it, but you know…

I also feel like I messed up Loki’s portrayal?

Includes: Jotun!Loki, mild cursing, mild smut, very minor angst, fluff and ugly pajamas.

Word count: About 2800.

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Waiting impatiently for the elevator to take her to the second highest floor, she clutched the pillow tighter to her chest, trying to stifle a yawn.

Tony had texted her as soon as they'd gotten back from some overly complex mission that wasn't even taking place in this realm - if she'd correctly understood while eavesdropping on the team, that is, given that Loki tried to keep her in the dark most of the time because apparently her life expectancy was already 'frighteningly short' and he refused to do anything that could potentially shorten it even more. There had also been a part about him wanting to get his hands on one of those 'incredibly sneaky Idunn apples’ but she wasn’t sure what that meant.

Maybe he could try learning how to text, that would certainly make her live longer and a lot more stress free, she mused.

Right now, she was just overly excited to see him again for the first time in eight days. Tony had told her Loki was exhausted and had gone straight to bed upon their arrival. She couldn't help but find it a little bit odd - usually he'd go straight to her room five floors below when he came back from a mission, but she tried not to worry too much.

The elevator came to a halt and she was hurrying to his room before the doors had even fully slid open. Her feet slipped on the polished floor, her socks not allowing for much grip but she was sure it was worth the risk of a bruised bum if it meant she'd get to Loki a few seconds earlier.

"Hey fluffy socks!" Tony called after her when she passed him in the kitchen. She had hoped he hadn't seen her since he was staring into the open fridge but apparently Iron Man had eyes on his butt or something.

For a split second, she considered ignoring him but he was her boss after all, and a very generous one at that, allowing her to live in the tower.

"Yes?"

Now that he had her attention, he first drowned his full tumbler of Scotch before actually speaking to her. Couldn't he just say what he had to say?

"Are you going to see Loki?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. Was he seriously asking her that?! Why else would she would she be running in the hallway at 2 in the morning in her pajamas?

"Right, stupid question, sorry. Look, we ran into some unforeseen complications and Loki, well..."

"Was he injured?" She blurted out instantly, eyes wide with fear but to her relief, Tony quickly shook his head.

"Not really. There are no wounds but he had to use a lot of that weird seidr of his to get us out of there and now he - he is... feverish?"

She could hear it in her boss' voice that he was unsure of his own choice of words. A fever? But Loki was an alien God or a Frost Giant or whatever, surely he couldn't get a fever?

"Okay. Thanks for the heads up!" She replied way more cheerfully than she actually felt, hoping Tony wouldn’t stop her if she looked okay.

It was with a sense of dread that she now walked the rest of the way to Loki's room. Once at his door, she was surprised he hadn't locked it and - wait! Was that ice on the handle?

Pushing the door open, she let her pillow fall to the floor as she was met with an unexpected wave of cold that immediately had her chilled to the bones. What the hell? Whispering for FRIDAY to turn on the small night lamp, she was startled by the state she found his room in, but most importantly by what she found on the bed.

Loki was lying in bed, covers drawn up to his chin, only he wasn't in his Æsir form. "Shit!" She cursed in a whisper, stepping on the thin layer of ice that had formed on the floor until she got to his side.

His skin was a deep shade of blue but for the white intricate markings adorning it. Something was very wrong with him, she realized. His Jotun form didn't bother her. To be honest, she actually found him rather attractive like that in a weird alien sort of way. However, she knew Loki wasn't comfortable with that aspect of himself and he'd never revert to his Jotun shape unless he didn't have the strength to keep on his Æsir appearance.

Softly, she lowered her hand to his cheek only to hiss in pain as soon as her skin made contact with his. The tip of her finger had turned purple in the split second it had made contact with him. She had almost gotten frostbite just from touching him!

In a panic-induced rush, she hurried over to the control center on the charcoal painted wall and turned the heat to the highest setting. She knew he was colder in his Jotun form, but not that cold. She had touched him like this before, but she had found his lower temperature refreshing, causing her nothing more than a pleasant shiver.

The next step was the en-suite bathroom where she dropped some rags into the hottest water that would come out from the tab, and put some towels to warm up by the heater.

Humans were warm blooded but you had to cool them down when they had a fever. So, by analogy, Frost Giants being cold blooded, she had to warm him up, right?

In truth, she wasn't entirely convinced of her logic but it was the only solution she came up with. Quickly, she walked back into the bedroom, bending down at his side to place some hot rags on his forehead and around his hands.

"Loki?" She whispered worriedly when he didn't open his eyes, but his face remained unchanged, the small frown not leaving his features.

Carefully, she pulled back the covers only to notice he had managed to freeze his clothes solid. Not waiting another moment, she started undressing him which was easier said than done because one, he was still wearing his battle gear; two, although his clothes weren't as cold as his skin, touching them was still painful like holding a frozen snowball in her naked hands and three, he was a lot heavier than you'd expect from his lean body.

With clenched teeth, she managed to get rid of the layers on the top half of his body until she was met with his naked blue torso before unzipping his leather pants and pulling them down with his underwear.

Oh - oh! Well, that's certainly interesting, she couldn't help but lose focus for a second as she saw his Jotun body naked for the first time. I'll definitely keep that in mind next time things are getting frisky and he isn't quite literally freezing to death in front of me. With another hard pull - that drove her backwards with such force, it was a wonder her butt didn't collide with the floor - she managed to get him out of the rest of his frozen clothes.Now, I know why he always uses seidr to undress. Leather is pain to take off!

"Love... is that you?"

Tears of relief slid down her face almost instantly at the sound of his voice. "Yes!" She pretty much shouted before tiptoeing around the bed until she was right at his side. "Yes , Loki, it's me. How do you-?"

"You need to leave," he grunted between clenched teeth, trying to pull himself upright by the strength of his arms but not quite succeeding. "Now!"

She could tell his was trying hard to keep his crimson eyes open as he glared at her, as if hoping it would scare her away.

"I'm not leaving until you feel better," she crooned softly, hesitantly lowering her hand to caress his cheek. It was still way too cold but there was no longer a risk of getting frostbite.

Without a warning, Loki tried swatting her hand away, but his hand movement was much less grateful than habitually. He was actually shivering, she realized.

Resigned after lacking the strength to pry her hand away by force, he closed his eyes tightly, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. "I don't want you to see me like this. So, will you please leave alone or do I have to make you leave?"

He had meant to draw her away by hurting her feelings, but she could see right through him - masking vulnerability with anger. In a sense, he did manage to hurt her feelings as her heart now broke for him. Was he so unused to people actually caring and looking after him?

"If I leave, I'll have to send someone else in to take care of you. It's your call, Loki." His red eyes opened wide at her threat and he immediately shook his head. "See? That wasn't too hard. Now, one more time, how do you feel?"

Loki groaned, obviously uncomfortable by the whole situation. "To use your midgardian slang, I feel like I've been hit by a bus."

She rolled her eyes at him, something she never dared to do when he was in his normal capacity because the only time she had dared to, he had responded by using his seidr to tickle her to tears. "I'm serious."

"Fine! I feel as if my body has been frozen from the inside."

Now that Loki was actually cooperating, she felt like they were getting somewhere. First, she made him drink a full glass of water and asked him if he was hungry but he only rolled his eyes at that. He's still Loki, after all.

The towels she had put over the radiator were now warm enough to drape over his body. Not waiting for his approval because knowing him, he'd play difficult, she pulled back the covers once again so she could wrap the homemade heating pad around his body.

He stared at her, brows furrowed in confusion, as she lifted, first his right shoulder, then his left one, to tuck the towel beneath them. How was she not disgusted by him, he couldn't help but wonder. Not only was he weak right now, but he looked like those monsters children were afraid of. And yet, he couldn't help the sense of warmth that washed over him at knowing that she accepted him whatever his heritage. That was more than he could say about his own father.

She continued with her task, trying to build a warm cocoon around him but she couldn't help herself from tracing some of the intricate silvery markings with her fingertips. A few lines ran from his chest down to his stomach, others only started at the level of his belly button and had more a twirl to them, leading straight to his -

"Oh, someone is happy, it seems," she chuckled when she noticed his erection standing proudly despite the cold. It actually appeared to be a deeper shade of blue than the rest of him, with a slightly upward curve.

Instead of seeming pointlessly embarrassed by his body's natural reaction, especially given the lack of disgust she had expressed, Loki actually looked rather smug. "Well, someone's is being rather handsy."

She huffed, somehow feeling herself blush as she looked at him. "Well, someone has been trying to help someone else warm up."

"Well, someone knows of other ways you can help someone warm up." Loki used the second that it took her to get his innuendo, to take her by surprise and pull her closer him, until she was pretty much straddling his body.

And then he kissed her. A gasp escaped her as his cold lips made contact with the sensitive skin of hers. It was almost like kissing an ice cube... but an ice cube that tasted of Loki, of mischief, of home. Only when his tongue prodded for entrance, did she realize what they were doing.

Pulling back a little to break the kiss that had her lightly panting as she carefully pushed his shoulders down into the pillow, she was quite certain he let out a little frustrated whine. "We should not be doing this," she admonished them both before sitting back on her butt, accidentally causing some very pleasant friction that had the, both moaning at the sensation. She had to bite her lower lip to keep her resolve, "right now, you are in no state for such activities."

Instead of coming up with a lokiworthy line, she watched as his face took on a focused look before turning into a frown. Was he seriously trying to seidr her clothes away right now?

"That's exactly my point," she couldn't stop her giggle as she bent forward to kiss the tip of his nose. She had always wanted to that but he was too tall and always too fast, managing to turn his face away from her and kissing her cheek instead. A girl has to take the chances that presented themselves to her.

"But I want to be inside of you, to feel your tight warmth around me," Loki drawled, softly thrusting up his hips to prove his point.

She actually whimpered at the contact - needy Loki did things to her, it seemed. Wetting her lips before nodding once, she quickly stepped away from him.

Loki followed her movements with his eyes, the disappointed look in his eyes rapidly turning to excitement when he realized she had only stepped away to discard those ridiculous cat-print pajamas of hers. Despite the radiators being at their highest capacity, her nipples pebbled almost painfully as she resumed her position above him, the chill that emanated from his body still quite noticeable.

Both let out little sounds of pleasure as the friction was now stronger without any fabric acting as a barrier between their bodies. She couldn't help but to grind her hips against his before leaning down to kiss him.

There was a power surge suddenly rising up in her when she realized that - for the first time - Loki was at her mercy. Usually, when she was on top, it was because he let her be on top. And even then, it was him who set the pace.

From his reactions when she traced them with her fingers, she gathered that the silvery lines adorning his skin were particularly sensitive. They also stood out a little, almost like scarifications and the best was that they down there as well. Alright, let's not get ourselves carried away, her inner voice reminded her.

When she slid her hand between their bodies to guide himself inside her warmth, she had to stop herself from grinning at the look on his face - like a Frost Giant boy who had just spotted a bag of candies. If they had candy in Jotunheim, she actually didn't know.

Loki groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his long blue neck to her as she impaled herself on his cock. It was quite a stretch, even more so than in his Æsir form and she felt incredibly full with him inside, the ridges only adding to that sensation. Focus, girl!

At her stillness, Loki impatiently thrust his hips upwards but she was quick to press his body down against the mattress. He looked up at her, confusion written across his face even as his grip tightened on her hips. Surely, she wouldn't do that to him, would she?

She smirked at his reaction even though she wanted this wanted this as much as him. "You only asked to feel my warmth around you," she explained coyly.

His crimson turned a shade darker. "You are a very reasonable person, love, surely you cannot expect me -"

"Shh," she hushed him with her index finger to his lips. "If you are too weak to overpower me, you are too weak for sexy times. For now, I'm going to warm you up. Afterwards, you can do whatever you want with me," she promised just as she felt him twitch inside her. Focus!

Without waiting for his response, she lowered herself until the upper half of her body was lying over his torso and she was cuddled against him.

His muscles gradually relaxed as he came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to convince her. Sighing, he nuzzled his nose into her hair. Gosh, she smelled of whatever Valhalla was made of! And if he was honest with himself, being like this was rather comforting, the ability of feeling her everywhere somehow making him forget that a whole world existed beyond the cocoon of her body.

"Fine," he complained a little theatrically, "but I'll hold you to your word."

Within minutes, both were soundly asleep. Not only was it the early hours of the morning, but he had exerted himself more during the mission than he wanted to admit and she never got much sleep when he was away.

Hours later, she found herself being woken up by a rhythmic rocking movement that she would gladly have compared to a calm boat ride if there was the biggest storm in the century and the boat was ramming into her.

With a gasp caused by sudden pleasure, she opened her eyes to find Loki thrusting into her with a mischievous smirk. "It seems your technique got me warmed up in no time, love."

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#loki imagine #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki marvel #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x reader smut

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dimitribelikov · 3 years

Text

The Belikov Chronicles: The Tasha Conundrum Pt.1

✶ I was curious about Dimitri’s past with Tasha, so here’s a rewritten scene from Frostbite in his POV, but with added background of how those two met. ✶ notes : All dialogue between Dimitri, Rose, and Adrian are straight from Frostbite, chapter 13. The rest is mine, based on characters written by Richelle Mead. ✶ warnings : mild language ✶ ships : romitri, hints of Dimitri/Tasha ✶ more one-shots featuring my version of Dimitri can be found here

✶✶✶

Everything was chaos. Complete and utter disarray. Strigoi attacks like this were unheard of. I wasn’t sure what was more infuriating though, the attacks themselves or the way the Moroi would rather talk out of their asses and argue for hours instead of actually doing something about it. The meeting was going in circles and I could feel my frustration steadily growing with every new, outlandish proposal made. It wasn’t until Tasha flipped the script with her little display that I actually felt a bit of hope. No way would people get on board with her stance of fighting quickly, but it was a step in the right direction. Watching her talk with such passion, the heat of the argument alight in her eyes, it was overwhelming. She was beautiful and the kind of leader that these aimless, rich, assholes needed.

My friend was pretty amazing, I had to admit. Though despite the heated climate around me, I could help but wonder for a moment if she was my friend. Did that term still apply? Since she’d come back into my life, she’d been not-so-subtly pushing for something more. It could be easy to go along with, but something still held me back. A something that I suspected was sitting next to me at that very moment.

Thankfully, I didn’t have much time to ponder my upside down love life. Fire lit up in the audience and with it, panic erupted. I stood to my feet immediately, ready to jump into action if the arguments turned physical. It was a worry in vain, though, seeing as the entire point of the argument was the Moroi’s refusal of fighting with their fists and magic. Surveying the scene only irritated me further. No decisions were going to be made and I wanted to get away from the crowd to see if any more insights were made from the attacks. “You might as well leave. Nothing useful’s going to happen now,” I told Rose and Mason who had stood with me.

As I started to leave, I realized that my only companion was Rose. Mason was too fascinated by the scandal, apparently. As I fell in step with her, letting the sounds of the arguments die away, I realized how strange it felt to suddenly be alone with her. I last saw her at Tasha’s Christmas gathering, but that was a strained time. The memory of our kiss was still fresh and I was doing everything I could to ignore the effect it had on me. Since then, she’d been downright cold towards me. I wasn’t entirely sure why. I suppose because I canceled the rest of our lessons? It didn’t really make much sense to me, though.

Almost as if she could read my mind, Rose provided the answer herself. “Should’t you be in there protecting Tasha? Before the mob gets her? She’s going to get into big trouble for using magic like that.”

I arched an eyebrow at her, picking up instantly on the tone of her voice. Rose actually sounded jealous. Of Tasha. I had been spending a lot of time with the Moroi, but I couldn’t quite place where this newfound vehemence was coming from. “She can take care of herself,” I commented. I found myself wanting to pick at this wound more, to find out exactly what was going on inside her head. Yet at the same time, I was definitely afraid of what I might find.

“Yeah, yeah, because she’s a badass karate magic user,” Rose continued on, letting her emotions lead the conversation. “I get all that. I just figured since you’re going to be her guardian and all . . .”

That brought me to a halt. I knew gossip at the Academy traveled like wildfire, yet somehow, I always felt like I was exempt since I was a guardian. Apparently not. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I still hadn’t given Tasha my answer but it was already dictating my life. Was this the reason Rose had been so cold? Had been avoiding me like the plague? Had been all over Mason? I quickly pushed the last thought out of my head the moment it had sprung up. Mason was a good guy. I knew better than to make this about me. And if Rose had a chance for some happiness with someone deserving of her, then I wouldn’t stand in the way.

But me and Tasha . . . That was an entirely different matter. I didn’t really know how I felt about the woman still defending her political views in ballroom. We first met when I had just turned nineteen. A bunch of the royals were on a winter getaway in Aspen, Colorado. Snowmass, to be exact. It was a small enough town that made it easier to guard. Plus, there’s a Moroi run ski resort in the mountains there, just like the one in Idaho. My charge, Ivan, had a few friends going for what was sure to be a rowdy, fun packed weekend. I was working, of course, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t have a bit of fun, too.

The first night there was a small gathering in the suite belonging to a Drozdov. Tasha had been invited, though I can’t really remember why. She was clearly an outcast, not quite fitting in. I’d heard the stories, and saw the truth of them in the scar that marred her otherwise flawless complexion. Just because she wasn’t popular, didn’t mean she shied away from the conversations. She was a bit older than me, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward around her. Such beauty and strength wrapped up in a “I don’t give a shit” attitude had caught my attention right away.

The topic of fighting was brought up. One of the Drozdov guys was boasting about “easy” it was to be a guardian. He’d had more than his fair share of vodka shots at that point, which made it hard to actually take offense. He balled up his fist and punched the air for emphasis.

Tasha laughed, bringing everyone’s attention on her. She set down the vodka bottle and stood up. “You’d break your fist instantly, Nik. You have to wrap your thumb like this.” She demonstrated and threw a punch to the air. This was met with whoops from the group, encouraging more. It was every bit as taboo a subject to talk about Moroi fighting then as it is now. There was something scandalous about the conversation topic and the drunken Moroi wanted to encourage more of it. I exchanged a glance with a fellow guardian. We hadn’t been drinking and I could tell that he was as amused as I was.

"You couldn’t break through a sheet of paper with that punch,” Nik laughed.

Rolling her eyes, Tasha responded, “So I don’t have the strength you do in my stick arms, but at least my bones will stay in tact.”

“The power doesn’t come from your arm.” It was me who had spoken, moving away from the wall as I approached her. I tried to push the awkwardness aside, wanting to seem “cool” in her eyes. I’d always had something of a show-off nature and couldn’t help but join in with the taboo conversation. “It’s your hips,” I told her. By now, the entire crowd had fallen to a hush, watching a very unprecedented display with rapt fascination. I got into a fight stance and slowly showed her how to rotate the hips. “Turn like this, use your back foot to put all your weight into the punch, and that’s where you get your strength. The hips. And your hips look more than capable to me.”

The loud cackle I heard belonged to my friend. “Oh Dimka! Beware ladies, he slays more than just Strigoi!”

I dropped my hands and shot Ivan a look. It was Tasha who had pulled my attention again. “Dimka?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied me with curiosity.

“Just a nickname,” I answered with a little shrug.

“I like it.”

Her smile was infectious and I soon found myself forgetting about Ivan’s teasing. We dropped all notions of fighting after that, but Tasha remained at my side the rest of the party. The next evening, we even found time to sneak off together and talk the whole night away in front of a large fireplace in one of the common rooms. There was nothing illicit about it, though. She was pretty and I admired her spirit, but the more we talked and got to know one another, I found something more valuable than a vacation romance. She was someone I could be myself around. Ivan was really only other person I’d ever felt that way about. She even liked my outdated taste of music. We could talk about everything from superficial, amusing topics, to the more serious things such as Moroi politics and even her darkened past. There wasn’t an ounce of judgement from either of us. Even though we’d only known each other three days, at the end of the vacation, it felt as though I’d known her my whole life.

Tasha was a true friend, through and through. We’d kept in contact over the years, but our relationship never seemed anything more than friendly. It wasn’t until she’d showed up at the Academy for her nephew, Christian, that she started hinting at wanting more. Did I want more? The first time we had kissed had been Christmas night, after her party. It was nice, enjoyable. We know each other so well already that there was no fear, no apprehension. Kissing her was comforting, and safe.

But what was safety what I wanted? Or was it danger that always appealed to me more. When her lips had met mine, I couldn’t help but think of Rose’s kiss in the gym just days before. Every part of it was wrong, but there was no denying the passion of that kiss. While under the effects of Victor’s lust charm months before, I had grown a new appreciation for her. Of course the feel of her half naked body underneath mine would light up my dreams for years to come, but it couldn’t compare to that kiss.

There was no charm or spell to dictate us. It was driven solely by Rose’s passion . . . and as much as I don’t want to admit it, mine as well. It had set a fire inside me, making my mind beg for more. Rose was unpredictable, even by my standards, and not knowing what she’d do next thrilled me. Of course my logic had caught up and I put an end to it at once, but the truth was still there. Rose’s kiss had left far more an impression than Tasha’s ever could.

Yet my old friend had offered the perfect solution. Rose could never be, no matter how much my heart yearned for her. Tasha, however, was proposing an ending that would not only keep Rose and Lissa safe and happy, but allow me to live a dream that most dhampirs were never given. Surely I could learn to love Tasha without any difficulty, right?

Either way, I still hadn’t come up with an answer, which made it all the more frustrating to hear the topic from straight from Rose’s mouth. “Where did you hear that?” I asked her.

“I have my sources,” she replied enigmatically. “You’ve decided to, right? I mean, it sounds like a good deal, seeing as she’s going to give you fringe benefits. . . .”

My patience had just run out. I didn’t even know what was going on between myself and Tasha, and I didn’t want to have to explain it to anyone else. Least of the very girl who had tormented my mind into making this such a difficult matter to begin with. I set her with a stern gaze, hoping that she got the message that the topic was off limits. “What happens between her and me is none of your business.” I couldn’t have this conversation with Rose. Not yet. I wasn’t ready. Yet she pushed on in typical Rose fashion. She really was going to be the death of me, I was certain of that.

“Well, I’m sure you guys’ll be happy together. She’s just your type, too –– I know how much you like women who aren’t your own age. I mean, she’s what, six years older than you? Seven? And I’m four years younger than you.”

If I had wondered whether or not Rose was jealous, all doubt was instantly removed. Yes, there was a selfish part of me that took pleasure in knowing that I could get her attention like that, but I quickly pushed it aside. Rose was intoxicating, but we could never be. She’s still only seventeen, I’m her mentor, we’re both set to be assigned Lissa’s guardians. I wasn’t a total asshole and refused to mess up her life with my own selfishness. Reason upon reason stacked up against us, and I felt my control starting to slip as frustration began to seep in. That frustration only doubled when I realized it was exactly the point Rose had made in the gym. My control was always a battle for me.

"Yes,” I finally answered. “You are. And every second this conversation goes on, you only prove how young you really are.”

Shit. Ok, that was a hell of a lot more harsh than I wanted it to be. The problem was, I was feeling cornered. What I wanted was right in front of me but I couldn’t have her. I was mad at the situation, not her. Unfortunately, the more she pushed, the more she became the target of that anger.

My heart raced as I realized what I had done. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could still take it back and––

“Little dhampir,” a new voice interrupted. When I looked up and saw Adrian Ivashkov approach, I felt my moody emotions return. Though I wondered if I was only annoyed because he’d interrupted me, I quickly realized that wasn’t the case at all. It was lascivious look in his eyes as they swept over Rose’s body. It was gross, and I wanted nothing more than to smack the smug grin from his face. I did my best to control my expression, but judging by Adrian’s greeting as he continued to talk to Rose, I had a feeling my disgust was pretty obvious.

Was I being a hypocrite, I wondered. I was pissed off that Rose had acted all jealous over Tasha, yet here I was, wanting to explode because she was talking to Adrian of all people. No, that wasn’t it, I quickly realized. Mason was good. I would have been happier if it was him that she was walking away with. Rose deserved someone who could treat her with respect and compassion. I wished it was me, but such wasn’t in the cards. As it were, I silently seethed as I watched her leave with the slimeball, confident that she had no idea who Adrian really was.

With no where else to go, I went in search of Tasha to see if she was free yet. Though part of me suspected there was a more petty reason for suddenly wanting her company . . .

#ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ ✶ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴋᴏᴠ ᴄʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇs #dimitri belikov #vampire academy #rose hathaway #tasha ozera #romitri

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nerdzzone · 3 years

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Two Burning Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: After meeting during a time when the world was in total lockdown, Brooke Harris and Henry Cavill are facing the next challenge to their relationship: transitioning back to normal life. Will they be able to cope with the changes they’re facing or will they fall apart once they leave the idyllic peace of isolation that they had in Jersey?

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

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August. 8. 2020

For the most part, our quarantine was going amazingly well. There was some concern going into it that since we hadn't been together for very long, two weeks of uninterrupted quality time together would be way too much too soon, but for the most part it seemed to be the opposite. It was almost like a little honeymoon for us. We settled into our own little rhythm and I was quite enjoying the domesticity.

We had small disagreements here and there, but we hadn't argued anywhere near as much as I had imagined that we would. But that all seemed to change just four days before the end of our quarantine, on the Saturday before Henry went back to work.

Henry had been up late playing a video game online with his brother in Canada and while I went to bed at a reasonable time, he woke me up when he finally crawled into bed at almost three in the morning. After that, I couldn't fall asleep again so I kept us both up for about an hour and a half as I tossed and turned until I finally gave up and got out of bed. Henry probably fell asleep quite quickly once my movements stopped disturbing him, but he didn't sleep for long either as he stumbled downstairs looking bleary eyed around eight o'clock.

Both of us were tired and quiet and even though nothing had happened there was a slight tension in the air as we both went about our mornings, feeling grumpy from the sleep deprivation. I knew that I was feeling irritable so I did my best to try and soothe myself and stop feeling so wound up, but I just couldn’t shake it and it all boiled over as I was trying to clean up after lunch.

I opened the dishwasher and, despite it being just as much my responsibility as it was Henry's, I was irritated from the start to see that it was full and clean, but hadn't been emptied. I put my plate on the counter and, rather crossly, started taking things out, but as soon as I went for the cutlery, I was stabbed by a rather sharp knife that had been put in with the handle towards the bottom and the dangerous part towards the top.

"Fuck!" I cursed, pulling my hand back and inspecting it for damage, feeling my annoyance emboldened by the pain I was feeling. "Henry, I've told you about this so many times!"

The flash of sympathy on his face at my initial yelp of pain quickly shifted into irritation.

"Told me about what?"

"Putting the cutlery in the dishwasher the wrong way!" I explained. "You left a knife sticking right up and now I've cut myself!"

I grabbed a paper towel to cover the cut and stop the blood from getting anywhere. It wasn't a deep wound, but I didn't want to make a mess and I felt it had more of a guilt-inducing dramatic effect.

"You don't need to speak to me like that," Henry scolded, picking up his own dirty lunch dishes before coming around the island counter to where I was standing. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt, did I?"

"Maybe not, but you clearly didn't care that much about preventing it since I've asked you almost every day to be careful how you load the dishwasher."

Henry shrugged as he put his plates next to mine on the counter.

"I just didn't think it mattered that much..."

"Well, it didn't. Until I got stabbed."

My tone was harsh and bratty, but it came out before I could stop it and I was so cranky that I really didn't care. I was clearly testing Henry's patience though as he sighed, a scowl on his face.

"I would hardly say that you’ve been stabbed," He argued. "I'm sorry that you’re hurt, but maybe it has less to do with how I load the dishwasher and more to do with your own carelessness."

Now it was my turn to scowl as I shot him a dirty look and wordlessly turned my attention back to the task I was doing. I fully intended to silently sulk as I worked, but as I pulled out a dish that was still filthy because of how it had been shoved in behind another plate, I lost my temper again.

"See, Henry, this is ridiculous!" I complained. "You just throw everything in however you want and nothing actually gets clean. You have to leave space between the plates or they stick together and the water can't get through."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Henry protested as I roughly put the dirty plate in the sink and went back to unloading. "No one will die if we have to wash one dish again, I don't know why you're being so horrible about this."

"I'm not being horrible! I'm frustrated that I've told you about this a thousand times and you won't listen," I insisted. "But maybe my patience for your irritating habits would be higher today if you hadn't woken me up so bloody early this morning!"

"Oh, so that's what this is about," Henry groaned. "You're mad that I was up so late playing video games with my brother."

I stopped my unloading again and spun to face him.

"That is not what I said," I told him firmly. "I don't care that you were up late and I certainly don't care that it was because you were playing video games with your brother. I don't even care that you woke me up, but since you did and I only had about four hours sleep because of it, that might explain my lack of patience with you now!"

"You definitely cared," Henry insisted with a roll of his eyes. "You huffed and tossed yourself around for ages before you finally stormed off."

"I was tossing and turning just because I couldn't sleep," I argued. "And I didn't storm off, I got out of bed because I knew I was disturbing you and I was trying to be nice."

"You stormed off," Henry repeated bluntly. "Which is why I felt the need to get up so early despite not managing to fall asleep myself until a very unreasonable time."

"I didn't storm off," I insisted. "And I didn't ask you to get up before you were ready to. If you're so tired because of me then maybe you should take a nap since you're acting like a child."

Henry barked out a laugh despite the irritation written all over his face.

"I'm acting like a child? You just accused me of stabbing you because I loaded the dishwasher wrong!"

"I said that I got stabbed, not that you physically stabbed me," I clarified. "You're deliberately misunderstanding everything I say."

"It's not hard to misunderstand when the things you're saying are so ridiculous," Henry rolled his eyes. "Maybe you're the one who needs a nap since you're in such a foul mood."

"I'm not in a foul-" I felt a flash of anger as I snapped at him, but stopped myself as I realized this argument wasn't getting anywhere. "Okay, whatever. I will go take a nap."

My plan was to just step back from the situation and get some space from Henry until we could both calm down, but clearly we weren't on the same page.

"Okay," Henry shrugged. "I'll join you."

I glared at him for a moment before I spoke again.

"I'll nap on the couch then."

"Seriously?" He asked, but when I held my glare, he sighed. "I'll take the couch then if you're going to be like that."

"No, Henry, you're three times the size of me," I pointed out. "You won't be comfortable on the couch."

"Then we can share the bed."

"No," I insisted. "I'll take the couch."

Henry rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of the room. My shoulders fell with relief as I assumed that he was letting the argument drop, but as I followed him out of the kitchen I saw him grabbing himself a blanket as he headed towards the couch.

"Henry, seriously. You are not napping on that couch."

"I disturbed your sleep last night," Henry reminded me. "I'm not going to ruin your nap as well."

"Well, apparently I disturbed your sleep too so maybe I don't want to ruin your nap now either."

He ignored me as he lifted the blanket in the air and went to drape it over the couch, but in my frustration, I grabbed the end of it before it could fall. I tugged it roughly and Henry's surprise was written all over his face when it slipped from his grasp.

"Just go upstairs if you want to nap," I demanded, tucking the blanket under my arm.

Henry was feeling just as feisty as I was though and he shook his head as he reached out and grabbed the corner that was hanging down. He tugged on it just like I had, but I was prepared and managed to hold on before it could slide away completely.

"Why are you being so difficult?" Henry growled through clenched teeth. "Let go of the blanket."

"No," I snapped back. "You let go."

We stood there like children, jerking the blanket back and forth, but realistically, I was no match for Henry. After a few minutes of pulling and bickering, he lost his patience and pulled on the blanket with much more strength than he’d been using so far. My grip on the blanket was tight though so instead of it flying out of my hands like he had intended, my entire body went with it as I crashed against him with a yelp.

"Shit," Henry mumbled as he caught me in his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"I know, it's okay," I assured him as I found my footing again.

All of a sudden, as I looked up at him, with the blanket dropped around our feet, the ridiculousness of the entire situation hit me and a giggle slipped from my lips. I quickly covered my mouth, not wanting to irritate Henry even more by laughing if he was still angry, but I noticed his lips twitch into a smile as well. Moments later our laughter bubbled over as I rested my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

"That was the silliest argument we've ever had," I giggled as we fought to get ourselves under control. "I'm sorry I was being so harsh on you."

"I'm sorry that I was as well," Henry chuckled. "And I'm sorry that I never take the time to load the dishwasher carefully. Is your hand okay?"

I looked down at the wound that started this whole mess to see that there was barely even a scratch to show for it.

"It's fine," I admitted. "It hardly even hurt, it surprised me more than anything. I shouldn't have made such a big deal about it."

"And I shouldn't leave knives sticking up in a way that could hurt someone."

I giggled again, picturing how insane we must have looked trying to pull a blanket out of each other's hands and shook my head at the image.

"I think I really do need a nap," I confessed. "Even though, I really didn't 'storm off' this morning when I got out of bed, I was just trying to be respectful because I knew I was disturbing you."

"I know," Henry groaned. "I don't know why I said that."

"And I don't know why I made it sound like you'd stabbed me. God, if anyone heard that they'd think we were insane."

"I think plenty of people have had arguments just like that over these last few months," Henry pointed out with a chuckle. "With everything going on in the world, being in such close quarters with someone for an extended period of time makes even the little things feel big sometimes."

"Well, it all feels ridiculous now."

"It does," He agreed with a smile. "But how about we have that nap, together in our comfortable bed, and forget this ever happened?"

"That sounds like a very good idea."

I smiled and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips before taking his hand in mine and leading him up the stairs to our bedroom.

Tag List: @heartfelt-pen @stephartrave @herefortherealdeal @imaginecrushes @justaboringadult @ speakerforthedead0 @summersong69 @bichibibi @healojane

Let me know if you’d like to be added!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #two burning hearts

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Won’t You Stay (Part 13)

Summary: The reader heads to her parents house to find out exactly how the movie is back on...

Masterlist

Square: Free Space

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: mature (language, angst, post domestic abuse, self-doubts, smut (protected sex))

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo

_____

“Hey,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pulling open the front door of the house before you were all the way up the steps.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” you asked, slipping inside and setting your shoes and coat down by the door.

“I came over to get to the bottom of what happened,” he said. “I can’t believe your dad would ever purposefully hurt you so I went to look for myself.”

“Obviously something happened,” you said. “The movie is back on, with me still directing and acting.”

“I know. I was there when your dad made the call to the studio heads,” he said. “Come on. Your parents are in his office.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood to talk to him,” you said.

“Y/N. For me,” he said, holding out a hand. You slipped yours into it and went down a hall to the right, your dad sitting on one end of the couch in there, your mom sipping on a drink as she stared out the window. “Alright. I got her here. It’s up to you at this point,” said Jensen.

You sat down on the opposite couch, crossing your arms.

“Play nice,” he said. “I’ll be with your brother and sister if you need me.”

Jensen left and you glared at your dad, your mom sighing.

“You had a hell of a day,” said your mom. You looked over to the fireplace, pursing your lips. “Your father told me about Logan and while Jensen didn’t say anything while he bitched out your father, it was enough to fill in the gaps.”

“I can’t believe you told her,” you mumbled.

“I’m your father. I don’t keep secrets from your mother, not ones like that,” he said.

“I kept your fucking secrets,” you shot back.

“Enough,” said your mom. “Dad was right to tell me. It makes so much more sense why you’ve been the way you have the past few years.”

“He had no right to share that.”

“I’m your mother. I have every right,” she said.

“I’m not your child,” you said, your dad staring at you. “I was baggage you had to deal with.”

“Tough shit, kid,” she said, storming over and getting in your face. “You are exactly like your father and I know all of his tells so don’t try that crap with me. You’re my daughter so deal with it.”

You blinked and swallowed, looking to your dad.

“You and your father are going to attend a therapy session together,” she said.

“No way. I-” you said, the look on her face stopping you.

“It is a decision that we along with Jensen made,” she said.

“He’s my boyfriend for all of five seconds and he gets to make those kind of decisions for me now?”

“Your boyfriend for all of five seconds loves you. You have no idea that he is exactly what you need right now, maybe what you need the rest of your life. You know how I know that? You were that person for your father. You are going, you both are, and you are going to talk about what you both went through, together. Understand me?” she said.

“Dad could have talked to me before ruining the movie,” you said.

“He regrets that,” she said. “He did something stupid and he was not expecting that reaction from your bosses. So after your fight, he came home, very upset, and by the time he’d calmed down, your boyfriend was here and starting another one. Your father did not mean to hurt you. He made a mistake and he went and fixed it. Parents are not perfect, Y/N. All he wanted was to make sure you were okay. He saw you spinning out yesterday with all of the new work. He handled it wrong but he just wanted to get you some help directing, not shut the whole thing down. He made a mistake. It’s all it was.”

“Why isn’t he talking?” you said, your dad staring down at the floor.

“I don’t know. He’s barely said a word since he got off the phone with the bosses. Neither one of you is leaving this room until you talk through this,” she said. She went past towards the door and you stared off out the back window. You felt a hand touch the top of your head and a few fingers fix some hairs. “I love you, sweetie.”

“I know, mom,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I love you too.”

“It’s okay. Work this out. Please,” she said. The door shut after a moment and your dad turned his head, staring at the gas fireplace.

“Dad. Say something. You’re freaking me out,” you said.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said quietly.

“Too late for that,” you said.

“I had no idea they would pull that. None. I thought they would send down help, not give an ultimatum. All I wanted to do was get you some help. I never would have done it if I thought they’d do what they did,” he said. “You were right to yell at me. I deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve all of it,” you said.

“Yes, I did.”

“Dad, what I said about my birth mom-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was just me she treated like that. She was a kind girl to everyone else. Maybe it was just me she hated. Maybe you would have been better off with her,” he said.

“You honestly think I would have been better off with a woman that abused her boyfriend? With a woman that’s family didn’t want a thing to do with me?” you asked.

“Maybe you would have been better off with anyone besides me. You wound up just like me. Just like me. The worst things that happened to me happened to you too and maybe if you had normal parents, got adopted, that would have never had happened,” he said. “Maybe you would have stayed safe and had a mom your whole life and you wouldn’t have had to deal with me and all the crap that ever-”

“Dad. Shut up,” you said as you stood and took a seat next to him. “You were the only person that ever wanted me. It’s my life. You can’t protect me from every bad thing in it. I should have said something about Logan but I didn’t. I was scared and embarrassed. You can’t keep me in a bubble away from the world though. It can suck out there but it’s not all bad.”

“You know I’ve never had someone simultaneously ask if I was okay while ripping me a new one,” he said with a dry laugh. “Jensen’s a good boyfriend.”

“He’s a good friend,” you said.

“Good. You figured that part out, them being your best friend,” he said.

“Dad, can we just forget today happened?” you asked. “I’m sorry I said that stuff to you. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“I’m sorry too,” he said. “I should have talked to you first.”

“It’s okay,” you said. You rested your head on his shoulder and he pulled you into a hug, the two of you staying like that for quite a while. The door finally opened and you both looked up, Jensen and your mom walking in.

“Told you,” she said with a smirk to Jensen. “Y/N, why don’t you stay the night. It’s pretty late.”

“You guys okay?” asked Jensen.

“Yeah. We’re good now,” said your dad.

“I knew you two just needed to sit in a room together and talk,” said your mom. “Come on, up to bed the both of you. I don’t want anymore drama in this house.”

“We’ll do our best,” said your dad.

You paused by the bottom of the stairs, giving Jensen a hug as he headed for the front door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You look better.”

“I am,” you said. He stared at you and you saw him smile.

“You gotta do it still,” he said, your head cocking. “Something you like about yourself? Practice.”

“Oh,” you said, leaning your head on his chest. “I like how quick I picked up that stunt today.”

“Alright. We’ll count it,” he chuckled. “I’ll swing by work around lunchtime, check on you. I assume you’re going to have a busy few days.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I’d rather have that than the alternative.”

“I’ll bring something by for you and your staff,” he said.

“You’re too sweet,” you said.

“Jensen,” said your dad, leaning over the balcony after he got up there. “It’s late. You can stay the night too if you’d like. I’d prefer she had some company tonight.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be okay,” you said. “I took up most of your day already.”

“Are you ever going to get it through that thick skull of yours that I like being with you?” said Jensen, resting his hands on your hip. You blushed and heard your dad head down the hall.

“I hope someday I do. Let’s go to bed, Jay,” you said. You walked upstairs, pulling him down the hall away from the master and towards the kids section of the house. Your old room was on the end, Jensen whistling when you pushed the door open.

“Hot damn. I think my bedroom was the size of your closet,” he said as he looked around.

“I used to sleep in a one bedroom apartment with my dad for years. This was not always the norm,” you said. “It’s also not that obnoxious. You will not be complaining about having my own bathroom when my brother and sister get up for school in the morning.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he said. You didn’t have too many clothes left at your parents place but there were some pajamas for you and you managed to find a pair of clean sweatpants from Anthony in the laundry room. After Jensen changed you slipped into bed, Jensen plopping down beside you. “Tomorrow will be better, I promise.”

“I hope so, Jens. Goodnight.”

“Morning,” you yawned, Jensen on your tail as you wandered into the kitchen around six thirty. You caught Anthony staring at Jensen and raised an eyebrow. “Anthony. Stop staring at my boyfriend’s ass.”

“Those are my pants,” he said.

“You can share,” you said, Jensen chuckling as he took a seat at the kitchen counter beside them.

“It’s okay. Your sister stares at it too,” he said.

“I am your girlfriend. I can stare at your ass,” you said, your dad walking in with a cup of coffee in his hands.

“It’s too early for this conversation,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“So is there gonna be another meltdown today or what?” asked Anthony as he sipped on his cereal.

“Behave,” said your mom as she finished plating some eggs for your dad. “It’s grown up stuff, Anthony.”

“It’s always grown up stuff,” mumbled Ella. Your gaze flickered over to your dad and he took a sip of his coffee.

“Dani,” he said, giving her a nod. “They aren’t little kids anymore. I think they’re old enough to know.”

“Y/N knowing is one thing-”

“I don’t want to keep secrets from our kids anymore,” he said. Jensen stood and was about to excuse himself but your dad shook his head. “You can stay if you’d like, Jensen. You don’t have to but you don’t have to go either.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” said Jensen. Your dad looked at you and you looked over to Jensen.

“Jensen can keep a secret,” you said. “He’s a good guy. It’s your choice though.”

“I know. It’s the reason I’m willing to let him hear this,” said your dad.

“Is this about yesterday? Or your guys other fight earlier in the week?” asked Ella.

“It’s actually about what happened when I was eighteen.”

“Hey,” you said, stopping over Jensen’s apartment after work that night. He gave you a smile as he waved you in. “That smells delicious.”

“Thank you. I hope it tastes as good. How was work?” he asked.

“Surprisingly good. The guys and me got a good game plan put together of how to function while I film scenes and overall. I’ll still be busy but it can work,” you said. “How was your day off?”

“I caught up on a few chores before I went over to hang out with your dad for a few hours,” he said.

“How was he? I know Anthony and Ella were kinda shell shocked this morning, including you.”

“He was okay. I asked why he felt comfortable telling me something so personal to be honest. I get that we’re dating but it’s only been three weeks.”

“What’d he end up saying?” you asked as you skirted into his kitchen to wash up.

“He just said he had a feeling I was going to end up sticking around and I might as well know now,” he said. “He really never has had that perfect life the world thinks he did.”

“No,” you said. “Thanks for checking up on him.”

“He’s my friend. It’s no problem,” he said, chuckling as he stared at you. “You didn’t happen to spill some pasta from lunch did you?”

You looked down, speckles of orange red all over your white shirt. You threw your head back and he laughed.

“You’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you take a shower and slip into some of my clothes while I finish cooking? I’ll spray some stain remover on your shirt and throw it in the wash,” he said.

“That sounds kind of fantastic,” you said.

“Towels are in the bathroom closet,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You popped into his bathroom and tossed your dirty shirt out into his bedroom, finding you had some on your jeans too. You placed them next to the shirt, hearing Jensen come in a minute later to gather them up. The bedroom door shut and you got under the shower, smiling to yourself.

It had not been an easy week in the slightest but it was getting closer to the end and Jensen had rolled with all of the punches. You used some of his shampoo to wash your hair, humming to yourself. You didn’t want to know what kind of hot mess your life would be right now without him in it.

You were still grinning as you got out of the shower and dried off, Jensen knocking on the door to let you know it was done whenever you were ready. You stepped out to the bedroom, a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt waiting for you along with your underwear and bra. You slipped on the underwear and glanced back at his closet, a smirk crossing your lips.

You didn’t know if he wanted to go there yet. Or if he was ready.

You could tease without pushing for anything though.

You walked into his closet and found a blue flannel on a hanger before you pulled it off and put it on, buttoning it up for the most part. You took a deep breath and left the bedroom, Jensen whistling to himself as he stirred a pot.

“How was the shower?” he asked, back to you still.

“Good. I can’t wait to try dinner,” you said. He looked over his shoulder with a smile quickly and went back to his pot. He froze and turned back to you slowly, looking you up and down. “You did say to put on your clothes.”

“This is true,” he said. You tucked your damp hair behind your ear, biting your bottom lip as he kept staring.

“I can change,” you said, spinning around and trying to get to a pair of pants as quickly as possible.

“Don’t,” he said. You looked back and he looked you up and down once more. “You look good. Very, very good.”

“We should eat,” you said. He nodded and went back to the food, dishing some up as you sat at his counter, Jensen joining you after a moment. You were quiet as you ate together, Jensen staring at you more than once. “It tastes wonderful, Jensen.”

“Thanks,” he said. You smirked when he nearly knocked his glass over and he quickly put it back. He seemed to devour the rest of his food and pick up while you finished with your own. “You’re uh, going to stay the night?”

“Would you like me to?” you asked, handing over your plate.

“Yeah. I like having someone stay over,” he said. You smiled and helped him finish cleaning up, heading into his family room when you were done.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” you asked, running a hand through your hair, Jensen staring down at where the hem of his shirt lifted up your leg. “Or...we could do something else.”

“Are you okay with something else?” he asked. “You said the other morning…I don’t want to push you into anything.”

“I’m okay with something else with you,” you said. “Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said. You stepped over in front of him and took his hand, pulling him back to his bedroom. He shut the door and you put a hand on one of the buttons of your shirt. “Wait.”

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks, kissing you slowly, the taste of dinner still on his soft pink lips.

“You are beautiful,” he said quietly, kissing you, leaving his lips on yours.

“I’m all yours,” you murmured before you kissed him again. He put his hands on your face, your neck, holding you close. Your hands worked on the buttons of your shirt before you pushed it off your shoulders and opened your eyes. Jensen did the same and looked down as you stepped back towards the bed, pulling him with you.

“Wow,” he breathed out.

“Want to take off the rest?” you smirked.

“Oh fuck yes,” he said. He ripped his shirt off his head and you reached out to put a hand on his belt, undoing it slowly, finding the zipper of his jeans and pulling it down. He pushed his pants off and his boxer briefs in one go.

“Well fuck me,” you said, his cock already hard and slightly bigger than you were expecting. “Someone ate their wheaties.”

“Someone’s hot as hell,” he said resting his hand on your hips. You pushed off your underwear with him, Jensen smiling as he lay the two of you down on the bed and leaned over top of you.

“You gonna do something or you just going to look pretty?” you teased.

He winked and started to kiss down your body, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

“Relax. Gonna make you feel good,” he murmured, kissing near your hip. You arched your hips up and he rested his palms on them, hot breath fanning over your clit.

He lapped his tongue over the bud, so light you barely felt it. You tugged on his hair, urging him to give you more. He opened his eyes and you nodded, Jensen diving in.

You sunk back into the sheets, floating in the good feelings he was giving you. There was a presence on your hips, enough to keep you in place if you squirmed, but otherwise he was extremely gentle, giving you a nice build up.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “You know what you are doing down there.”

“Good,” he said as he pulled back, licking his lips. “You taste delicious.”

“Hey,” you said when he went to go back for more. You tugged his hair, Jensen crawling up the bed.

“Hi,” he teased, pecking a kiss to your lips.

“On your back,” you said, sliding your hand down to his cheek. He cocked his head adorably and you giggled. “Let me return the favor.”

“I am plenty hard,” he laughed. “We got all the time in the world for that. This is about reminding you that this can be good tonight.”

You smiled softly as you looked up at him, Jensen nuzzling into your hand for a moment.

“It’s good,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he whispered, dipping his head low and kissing you. He rolled to the side of the bed and dug around in his nightstand drawer, swallowing when he suddenly sat up. “Y/N. I don’t have any condoms. I can run out really quick-“

“My purse in my bag. There’s some in the side zip pocket,” you said. “They’re new.”

“You are amazing,” he said, jogging out of the room and back in, tearing open a condom. You sat up and held out your hand, Jensen setting it in your palm. You sat up on your knees on the bed, carefully rolling the condom on his cock, Jensen’s breath hitching.

“Almost didn’t fit. I’ll have to buy bigger,” you said. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up as he crawled onto the bed, lifting you up and gently lowering you down on his cock.

You dropped your head to his shoulder and your mouth fell open, Jensen holding you close as you adjusted to him.

“Slow?” he asked quietly. You nodded and he trailed a finger down the curve of your spine, whole body shuddering around him. He shifted his hips back, barely pulling out before delivering a deep thrust, his tip hitting your g-spot. He did it again and you turned your face into his neck, Jensen pausing.

“M’okay. Don’t stop,” you mumbled against his skin. He touched a hand to your cheek and you raised your head, Jensen’s lips finding your own. You parted them, a teasing kiss turning deeper as he started to move again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, rolls of your hips falling in line with his, smacking your skin together.

He breathed hard and ran a hand up to the back of your hair, almost like he was more interested in the kiss than the screwing. You smiled and felt him return it, thumb brushing over the back of your neck. Your foreheads rested against one another as you caught your breath, bodies catching on and moving in a perfect rhythm together.

You giggled and got a big kiss for it, Jensen let out a cute little sound when he pulled back.

“I love that noise,” he whispered against your lips.

“Feels so good,” you said.

“I know,” he said, your hips rolling back as his thrust forward. “Fuck, do that again.”

You rolled your hips and he bit his bottom lip. One of your hands reached up to his hair and pulled him closer, devouring him in a dirty kiss. He sank into it, your pants mixing together as you rocked back and forth. It was slow and lazy and you felt a low simmer in your core, the kind that would rip through you and ruin you when it finally hit.

He kissed your neck, your back arching, his lips kissing under your jaw and making you keen.

You tightened around him and he did it again, your hips moving a little faster, Jensen matching you for it, returning to your mouth to map out the warm wet cavern there.

His body was tensing up and you knew he was holding back his orgasm. You grabbed one of his hands and slid it down your chest. He slipped a finger through your folds as your bodies broke apart for a moment, finding your clit and starting to rub.

Your mouth fell open and you squeezed every muscle in your body, hips working in time with his as he kept working the bud with his fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, crest of an orgasm hitting you and stealing your breath away, Jensen slamming his hips into you harder. You made some kind of deep and low moan as pleasure ran through you, Jensen’s body going rigid as he came. You moved your hips as long as you could, head dropping onto his shoulder as you tried to get some air back in your lungs.

He thrust slowly a few more times, riding out the last waves of his high before he stilled and wrapped his arms around your back.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, resting his forehead on your shoulder, his whole body starting to relax. You shakily lifted your head, Jensen doing the same. His green eyes were a little darker and a whole lot hazier. You could barely think, didn’t want to feel anything but the after effects of an orgasm like that. He crashed his lips to yours, somehow finding enough energy to steal your breath away one last time.

Your head felt dizzy when he pulled away and he lay you down, slipping out of you. You felt him get out of the bed for a moment, returning after a second with no condom and tucking into your side.

You lay there with your eyes shut, Jensen rolling you to use his body as a pillow and you were more than okay with that. Your arm rested over his waist and you pressed your chest to his, head resting on his shoulder, his arm lazily wrapped around your back.

“Wow,” he finally said, his chest rising and falling more slowly.

“You are fucking amazing,” you said.

“Takes one to know one,” he laughed. “That was okay?”

“More than,” you said, forcing your eyes open, Jensen looking down at you. “Thank you for making that fun for me again.”

“I could say the same to you,” he said, kissing your temple before his eyes fluttered shut. You kissed his chest before you shut your eyes and fell asleep listening to his slow heartbeat.

______

A/N: Read Part 14 here!

#spnkinkbingo #supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

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missmollybloom · 3 years

Text

New Fic: Couples Retreat

Summary: Two months after the phonecall from Sherrinford and Sherlock Holmes can tell that things haven’t been the same between the detective and his pathologist. With Molly pulling away from him, will an undercover case at a couples’ retreat be enough for Sherlock to show his pathologist that things can go back to normal between them?

(And, as it’s a Sherlolly fic, do you really think “normal” will remain “normal” for long?)

A/N: So here I am with another WiP. I’m trying a few new things. In terms of plot, I’ve never written a case fic before - so wish me luck! In terms of process I’ve actually plotted the whole thing out so (hopefully!) I shouldn’t write myself into writer’s block and should hopefully update regularly. Here’s to good intentions. I hope you like it!

Also on Ao3 here.

Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes didn’t like change. Of course, this fact shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone. He was, after all, a man who had lived in the same flat for the past ten years, worn the same make and style of Belstaff coat for just as long, and once mourned his favourite brand of ball-tip pen going out of business by sulking on the couch for two weeks.

But the change which Sherlock found hurtling towards him this time was no mere inconvenience like the pens, or couldn’t be handled by stocking up on a cupboard full of identical coats. This change had the power of turning his whole world upside down.

So shaken was Sherlock by the news that it took John only five minutes in his presence for him to declare the detective’s mood so “un-fucking-bearable,” that he was banned from visiting John’s flat until he “pulled his head out of his arse.” Both of these statements were said by his friend mere moments before slamming the door in the detective’s face.

Sherlock couldn’t help it. So blindsided was he by the change that was coming upon him that he had no means to process it outside of the piercing verbal barbs he had flung at his friend. Barbs that were not received well and would, in any other circumstances, have led to a black eye or two.

Sherlock got off lucky – nary a bruise from John shoving him out the door - and only because John knew the one fact that Sherlock was only just discovering: If Molly Hooper left London, Sherlock Holmes would be lost.

Even though Sherlock had no idea before that day that Molly was even contemplating such a thing, there were hints that he missed.

Although he and Molly had been able to continue working together after the awkwardness of explaining that phone call to her, things in the past few months were decidedly different from before.

Molly, for her part, took his explanation well, understanding the situation Eurus had put him in. Nevertheless, there had certainly been a reserve in their exchanges ever since. Sure, she’d do the autopsies he requested, and would work late to run extra tests, but it was all delivered with the cool detachment of a colleague, none of the warmth he’d come to expect, value, even enjoy from Molly.

Even their companionship, the comfortable silence spent working side-by-side in the lab had evaporated over the last few months.

Earlier that morning, the morning Sherlock’s world fell off its axis, he strode into an empty lab that he could tell she’d only just vacated. At the time, it didn’t even cross his mind that she was making every effort to limit her time with him.

But now, as he lay on the couch in Baker street, reflecting on the day that was, he realised that she most certainly was.

---

Earlier that day, Molly heard Sherlock’s familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside her lab. On the phone to John, she guessed. She didn’t bother packing up before leaving through the side door, escaping before he could find her in the lab. She needed some air, needed some space, needed anything other than Sherlock Holmes, and Beppe’s café just down the road from Barts would do the trick.

Making herself scarce whenever Sherlock came around was a habit she had formed ever since the phone call from Sherrinford a few months ago. Of course she couldn’t keep working at Bart’s and never see him, it was, as Mycroft Holmes had called it all those years ago, Sherlock’s “home from home”.

Molly decided that she’d do what he needed for his cases but nothing extra.

No late night phone calls where he used her as a sounding board.

No walks through London like they had spent in the long nights of his recovery after the Culverton Smith case.

Certainly no invitations to eat takeaway in her flat.

Not that he had tried to resume any of their friendship rituals since that day, either.

What the detective didn’t see, or couldn’t perceive in all his intellect was that Molly was a woman in pain. Not for any lack of the detective’s observational prowess; rather, Molly didn’t trust herself to give him the opportunity to see her, had built a wall around herself so thick and although the cement hadn’t yet hardened into toughened concrete as yet, she knew well enough that time spent in Sherlock’s presence would only weaken the foundations, causing the wall to crumble and herself to be revealed.

That phone call had for a moment fulfilled every hope she had ever held for their relationship, only to have said hopes dashed with the sudden silence of the suspended phone line. Even if she kept a kindling of the flames alive for a few hours afterwards, his explanation was a deluge of rain, making it impossible to stoke the embers of her hope back to life again.

It was early morning the next day after the phone call when he arrived. He looked like shit and this was in the opinion of someone who had seen him after faking his death, had seen him hanging over a toilet bowl vomiting bile because his detoxing body couldn’t handle any food, had seen him at his lowest.

But his sunken eyes had seen ghosts that day. He’d also, she’d soon learn, seen her on a screen with a countdown timer that – with four men already dead at Eurus’ hands – gave Sherlock no reason not to believe counted the seconds ticking away in the final minutes of Molly’s life.

“I had no other choice, I hope you’ll understand and one day, even forgive me.” He had asked.

“There is nothing to forgive.” She had lied.

The phone call was an experiment, just as he had said. Just not his.

And the words, said twice and so convincingly, were mere lies to save her life.

How could she ever be so daft as to believe them to be true?

She needed time and space to rebuild from the ashes – which was becoming increasingly difficult with the frequency with which Sherlock had been visiting Barts in the last week.

But Molly Hooper had another plan. There was another way she could maintain her space and heal her heart.

---

Sherlock lay across the lounge at Baker Street. His hands were steepled under his chin as he replayed the events of the day again, scouring them for any hints at what was to come.

Sherlock was about to follow Molly out to her favourite lunch place when his phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore a call from his mother, but with the wounds wrought by Eurus’ reappearance from the dead still raw, he had softened of late in his treatment of his parents.

The recovered memories from his childhood now revealed why his parents had always fretted over him so much.

“Morning mother,” he began.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m so glad you answered. Are you well?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “Is that why you called? Checking in on my health? Because it’s easier to text.”

“No dear, it’s Cheryl Williamson – do you remember her, from my square dancing troupe?”

“Yes,” he lied, without any attempt to sound convincing.

His mother continued, “Well it’s her son, James. Well actually it’s his wife Melanie. You see, she’s missing and I was hoping-“

“Solved it.” He cut her off. “She left him.”

“No! That’s just the thing!” His mother persisted, “They’d just been to a couples’ retreat.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So far, so boring.

“Can you please look into it for me?”

He didn’t have the heart to say no. But he also knew how little attention he could give such a case and still count it as keeping his promise to his mother. Five minutes on the internet should do the trick.

“Of course I will.”

Sherlock hung up before his mother finished showering him with effusive praise.

He needed a computer, and he knew just where to find one.

Having succeeded in avoiding Sherlock earlier, Molly was shocked to find him in her office sat at her computer when she returned to Bart’s.

“Sorry. I had a case,” was his greeting.

“Won’t be long,” he added, all without looking up from the screen.

“Oh, that’s ok, I’ll just-“ Molly placed down her take-away bag from Beppe’s café on the desk and turned to leave.

“You can stay.” He said, gesturing to the visitor’s chair. “It is your office after all.”

As much as she wanted to leave, there was a not insignificant part of her that missed the companionship they used to share as they worked together in the lab. She opened the take-away tiramisu cake and started eating it.

“MrsDawson1976 isn’t a very strong password, Molly”.

“I’ll be sure to change it.”

“I would have pegged you for a Pacey fan, anyway.”

“I would have assumed you would have deleted all knowledge of American teen dramas from the 1990s.”

She should have left it at that, but it was Sherlock and he was on a case, so curiosity got the better of her.

“What’s the case?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Missing woman. Wife of a son of a friend of my mum’s.”

“What a good boy you are,” Molly teased with a wry smile. “Any leads?”

“Not a one,” Sherlock said, frowning, eyes scouring the screen for more clues. “It seems that she left early from a couples retreat four weeks ago and vanished, leaving no trace.”

This was where she would usually chime in. This was where she would have joined him on his side of the desk, standing so close that she could see the stubble forming on his chin, nose filled with the scent of him, a scent she craved and had to admit she had been missing.

But she didn’t join him.

Instead, she stood.

“Good luck with it,” Molly said, standing, punctuating her exit by throwing the empty cake container in the bin.

---

Sherlock watched her go. It was the longest time she’d voluntarily spent in his presence in months, and it had only been a few minutes.

He had seen in her a vacillation, a moment in which she may have come and helped him, but it evaporated in an instant, and Sherlock was left alone.

His searches for Melanie Williamson had yielded no clues. Her mobile phone was dead. Her accounts had not been accessed. Her car remained on the street where she’d parked it in front of her flat before taking the train to North Norfolk for the couples’ retreat.

The woman, it seemed, had evaporated.

Curious indeed.

Online avenues of inquiry all exhausted, Sherlock was about to turn off Molly’s computer when an email alert popped up. Normally, her inbox was full of messages from Mike Stamford, or questions from her various trainees, or subscriptions to online shopping sales from H+M or Topshop, her brands of choice.

He would have ignored all these. But not this one. This one he had to open based on the preview text alone.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Progress of your application

Dear Doctor Hooper, thank you for your interview on Zoom last week. We are in the final stages of reference checks and will inform you of our decision in the coming week.

Warmly,

Jane Harper

HR manager, Glasgow Royal Hospital.

Molly had applied for another job.

Molly had interviewed for another job.

Said job was in Glasgow.

This wouldn’t do. Sherlock strode out of Molly’s office and upstairs to the one man who could make sense of what was going on.

It turns out that Mike was in the middle of a call when Sherlock arrived, and from what Sherlock heard, it was the reference check that the email referred to.

“Hang up.” Sherlock declared.

“Sorry?” Mike said.

“Hang up!”

Sherlock didn’t wait, placing his fingers on the receiver cradle to cut off the call.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mike asked, face reddening.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mike? Molly can’t leave Bart’s!”

“She can if she wants to, mate. Do you know how many headhunters have been after her in the past 10 years? She’s said no to every single one.”

“But what has changed?” He asked himself, rather than Mike.

---

Having reviewed all available data from the day, Sherlock stood from the lounge. Taking his violin out of its case, he plucked at the strings, hoping the familiarity of the instrument would give him peace, help him understand.

He didn’t know how long he had been playing, or precisely what he had been playing, but from the look on Mrs Hudson’s face, it had been a while, and not necessarily music that was soothing to the soul.

“I need to sleep Sherlock,” his landlady had pleaded. “I’ve got the ladies coming over to play bridge tomorrow.”

In the past he would have snapped at her. In the past he would have taken out his frustrations on the wall or on the mantlepiece.

Instead, he stood, grabbing his coat and leaving without a word.

He walked for hours through the streets of London. It was a habit he used to do alone, but during his detox and recovery, Molly had joined him.

Over the course of a few weeks he had shown her all the cases he could remember, those details he hadn’t deleted or outsourced to John’s blog to keep an historical record of.

As he walked tonight, he wasn’t recounting cases, he wasn’t even focusing on the case at hand – the disappearance of Melanie Williamson. All his attention, all his mental energy was spent unpacking the curious behaviour of his pathologist.

It was obvious that Eurus’ little game, her emotional vivisection, was not without its cost. He could see that now, so clearly. Molly had withdrawn from him, and rightly so. But, if he was honest, he had allowed her to.

It would only take one visit to her flat with chips, one phonecall to chat through his thinking in a case, one day like the day they’d spent solving crimes together after his return from the dead and she would see what he already knew, that nothing needed to change, they could return to how things were before Eurus came and fucked everything up between them.

And that was the answer – a case – and one staring him in the face!

Two birds, one stone.

---

It was 5am when Molly awoke to a not unfamiliar sight of Sherlock Holmes stood over her bed.

“What is it?” she said, voice horse, eyes bleary.

“I need help with a case.”

Molly reached for her dressing gown, pulling it tightly around her as she sat up.

“Is there a body?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, is there some test you need?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need?”

“You-“ a beat, the couplet had passed between them on a night completely different from this one.

Sensing the charged atmosphere in the air, Sherlock continued.

“Four weeks ago, Melanie and James Williamson attended a couples retreat in North Norfolk. Melanie left the retreat early and hasn’t been seen from since.”

“So what do you need?”

“I need you to go undercover with me at the retreat.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No – I’m sure you’ve heard the word before Sherlock.” Molly paced to the kitchen, putting on the kettle.

“I’m familiar with it, but I don’t understand,” he said as he followed her.

“I can’t drop everything and go chasing after white rabbits with you whenever you feel like it.”

Sherlock didn’t understand the reference.

“Alice in Wonderland, look it up sometime.”

Sherlock persisted in his questioning “Why not?”

“I’m not John. I’m not your partner. I’m your-“ Molly paused, stuck for words. “I don’t even know what I am Sherlock. But whatever it is it doesn’t entail being at your beck and call 24/7. I have my own life.”

She didn’t say it but he knew. Glasgow loomed unspoken between them.

He wanted her to stay in London, wanted to tell her how important she was to him, how he couldn’t do his job without her help. He wanted to say he was sorry that things got so fucked up by his sister. He wanted to commit to making things go back to just like they were before the phone call.

He was going to say it all, but the sound of a text alert from Greg sliced through the silence between them.

Sherlock read it, then showed Molly the screen.

James Williamson didn’t show up to work yesterday.

“Two people, Molly. I can’t go in there on my own.”

Everything he could see in Molly, the clench of her jaw, the intake of air sharply through her nose, the fingers balled into fists at her side told him she was about to say no.

Which was why Sherlock was so surprised when she agreed.

“Yes. I’ll go with you.” She said, “but I have some rules first.”

#sherlolly #sherlolly fic #missmollybloom writes sometimes

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years

Text

'Forgiveness' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Forgiveness"

"He was innocent, Freya ! He was an good man....and look what happened !"

Chapter Summary : After having killed Stone and wounding herself in the process, Yirina is feeling troubled after having learned of her presence the day of the death of Park's brother in London in 1973...

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +4000

------------------------------------------------------------------

During the next few minutes that followed the shots I did to myself and even if I closed my eyes to let me pass out freely and maybe, get over it, I was able to see some obscure & little flash, seeing myself transported away by Park and Price, myself been patched as the two were holding me good and Zasha was watching the scene terrified.....I was feeling so bad right now : the shots on my shoulder, the revelation that Stone gave to everyone. During all this time, the burn mark I had on my left hand, it was because I tried to save someone....and this someone was William Elijah Park in 1973 in London.....

I was there the day he was killed by Stone, trying to save him from the bomb but I didn't succeed and this event was making me guilty, traumatizing me enough. The brainwashing erased that trauma but only temporary as my memories were coming back but now, learning that I was present in London the day William got killed, it's making that guilt relive in me. Me & Park....we were close by that and we didn't know at all about it. Finally, the flashs stopped and I could close my eyes for good, only hoping for the best......

I opened my eyes to find myself sitting in the back of an bar and it was looking very english....no....I'm reliving this day....why ?.....There weren't an lot of people here in that pub but I did prefer to stay hidden and the papers I had with me was showing that I wasn't willing to go public about it. These papers, it was all about Stone : reports from the Perseus collective on him and other ones were also reports but on William Elijah Park.

Looking around like I was awaiting someone, checking my watch from time to time and tapping my feets on the ground under the table, it was sure that I was nervous as hell until I decide to take out an cigarette from an pocket of my jacket before lighting it up and put it between my lips. As I was taking an breath, I could see an man enter the pub, turning his head to see someone....who was me as he start to walk into my direction.

"You're the one who contacted me ?" The man asked, it was William....he was looking curious and pretty much nervous too to be here with an unknown person, I slowly nodded to him as I put my cigarette in my hand.

"Take an seat." I ordered in an low voice, pointing to the seat that was in front of me. He took an deep breath before he resign himself to sit like I said.

"Why did you called me, miss...uhm...you didn't give your name by the way." He said, getting his left arm on the table while the other, it was on his lap.

"That part isn't important for you to know, sir Park." I breathed, crushing my cigarette in the ashtray on the table.

"Okay, game's over, tell me why...."

"Relax, sir." I told him in an serious voice, cutting him straight even if I could feel myself scared inside after I heard an noise under the table. "Don't need to bring an gun here, I'm unharmed."

"How did you know ?" He demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"I heard the click of your gun, you can put it down." I suggested and he comply, stunned that I managed to know about as he was getting his pistol back in his jacket. "So, you're William E. Park from the SAS, that's correct ?" I started the real subject, taking the papers about him in my hands.

"Yes." He replied in an low voice, looking around him to make sure that he wasn't trapped.

"Can you talk with me about Harry Stone ?" I questioned, peaking my eyes to look at him and his eyes did go wide at hearing me saying that name.

"Him ?" He was sounding taken aback by that name. "An man that is so reckless that I'm ashamed to see this man in the SAS, a disgrace to the whole regiment."

"I see that the rumors of your hatred against him were true." I proclaimed, putting the file aside to look at him fully. "Tell me, is Stone has did something very bad to you....like attempting to kill you ?"

"If I can count the numerous time he tried, it would be an lot." He responded, almost laughing about before he got his both arms on the table. "I don't understand why we're talking about him."

"Because he's an man who knows how to act, sir Park." I told him as I hand over the file about Stone to him who took it in hands, curious about it. "Stone is been working with the organization I'm in too called Perseus."

"Perseus ?" He whispered, looking deeply the file.

"An terrorist organization that's working with the East but unofficially, on their own." I explained, telling him of the true motives of the Perseus Collective.

"Shit, this....it's going to make an lot of noise to the top." He proclaimed, astonished by the contents of the file he was reading on before he put it back on the table. "But...why are you doing this ?"

"I'm doing this because I'm not believing in those ideals and to Perseus, I only want to make the good." I answered before I put my hands on the second file about William himself. "Stone is planning something on you on the following days." I added, giving him the file that he start to look at.

"Are you kidding me ?" He sounded almost angry about seeing the written lines on that file, stating an apparent description of William.

"I know." I said silently, understanding his behavior. "All of this, it's bullshit and I know the truth about you." I continued, getting his attention on me entirely. "You're an kind man & very generous, I know that because I've been following you for days."

"You...you have been following me ?" He chuckled, looking uncomfortable at the moment and I nodded.

"I had heavy doubts about why Stone was mentioning about killing an future threat to Perseus so I decide to investigate." I revealed to him, making his eyes go wide to me. "I'm not like them, sir Park. I want to make sure that you're not harmed."

"I....I don't know what to say really !" He was losing his words, amazed that someone he was considering an enemy was helping in reality. "You're doing this because you believe in good...and thank you, miss." He grinned, looking at those papers on the table. "Shit, if Helen is seeing this...."

"Helen ?" I asked, curious.

"Oh...it's my sister, she's looking the same age as you, I presume." He replied, scratching the back of his head. "Been pursuing an doctorate in international relations in Oxford, I don't want her to be pull in all of this." He added.

"It's better, I believe." I nodded to him about this....if only....."Listen, you should be careful the next days but I will make sure that this assassination order is called off...to make you safe."

"Thank you again, miss." He said before I decide to got up from my chair, letting the documents for him to take with.

"By the way, my name is Grigoriev if you want to know." I told him, offering my hand for an shake before he accept, smiling fully. "Don't worry, sir Park, I will make sure that you will be protected."

"And...and what if your superiors find out about your actions ?" He demanded.

"I can't tell but let's hope that you will have Stone arrested, that's the most important thing." I expressed, my eyes on the table. "Have an good day, sir Park." I make my farewell with an smile before I walk out of the table, leaving him alone to get outside.

I was feeling well to say, taking an deep breath before I could see an black van, parked on the other side of the street, it must be some people from Perseus as I was going to go near it, walking through the street to get to it from behind. I knocked two times at the back doors before someone decide to open for me and I discover Stone along with Freya herself, apparently awaiting for me.

"So, how this little 'date' was, Grigoriev ?" Stone was the first one to talk and I was already annoyed by hearing his voice towards me.

"Go fuck yourself, Stone." I exclaimed as I get inside the van behind, closing the door behind but instead of going away, the van didn't drive off the place. "It was good."

"Nothing to worry about Park ?" Freya asked, curious.

"No, the report that our beloved Stone write about is full bullshit." I replied, looking at Stone with deadly eyes. "He only want to kill Park because he's just paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid, I'm seeing an good opportunity to get rid of that guy." He said to me, serious in this voice before he got something out of his pocket.

"What's this ?" I demanded, pointing at this.

"You're fucking blind ? That's an detonator !" He responded, showing it fully to me as my eyes goes wide at seeing it in his hands.

"Don't tell me.....you son of an bitch." I cursed, realizing what he has done. "He's an innocent and you're going to kill him ?" I added, getting furious each second. "You abort that, right now !"

"In your dreams." He scoffed as he looked to the driver.

"Stone, he's out, he's going to his car !" The driver said, pointing at the direction of the pub, seeing William, getting out of it.

"Good, that's going to be some fireworks." Stone joked about it as he was taking his detonator fully.

"Freya, do something for fuck sake !" I expressed loudly, looking at her before I realized that she was going to do nothing to help me, only looking down at her feets in shame. "Damnit, I will do it on my own." I added before I open the back doors again, determined to save William.

"Yirina, wait !" Freya tried to make me stop but I wasn't going to comply at all to her orders as I was getting out of the van, starting to run to get to the rigged car of William, trying to stop him.

"Sir Park, don't start that....." I yelled, running in the street to get close to the car....until it exploded....the car exploded by an bomb placed below it and because of the explosion, I found myself projected away from it.

I closed my left eye at the moment the car blow up but that wasn't going to help me as I was projected away on the street...on my back before some flaming debris fell on my left hand, burning it heavily but I wasn't reacting as I was nearly knocked out by the explosion. I wasn't able to protect William and I could only see with my right eye, the burning car.

"WILLIAM !" I could hear an feminine voice arriving in the street....Park....Helen.....I couldn't hear more as I was suddenly dragged away by someone, seeing Freya on top of me to get me back in the van, almost unconscious before the van drove off the place, with me on the ground of the van floor, with Freya looking at me worried as Stone....behind his mask, I could see shake his head.

"Always at the wrong time, at the wrong place !"

That memory....it make me realize that I was fully there that day, watching William...Park's brother, getting killed in an explosion by Stone himself as I tried to save him from his death I wasn't aware off....I wasn't able to save him, it's not because of me but I could feel that guilty above me that I could have been able to save him from that bomb. I'm going to hate myself for this....and this hate....yeah, I'm hating myself so much for this.

Finally, I reopened my eyes after an while, I couldn't tell how much time but I was well alive even if my shoulder was hurting me an little, feeling the bandages covering the gunshot wounds above it below my shirt. My eye were opened slowly, revealing that I was in an bedroom, laid down on an bad....the bedroom I'm using with Park in West-Berlin...I was back here alive and I could see Zasha sleeping on an chair while Beans was walking on the bed, seeing me awake.

"Hey, Beans." I slowly move my left hand, seeing my burn mark on it to pat Beans head, an smile on my face to see her and then, the door opened, revealing Portnova herself.

"Oh shit, Zasha !" She exclaimed loudly, seeing me awake and her voice caused Zasha to brutally woke up, she was happy to see me alive.

"What ?" Zasha said, having been brutally awaken and ready to fall off their chair until they looked at me. "My god, Yirina...yes !" They added, enthusiatic.

"Hi, Zed...hi Portnova." I waved at them both with my left hand too, releasing Beans from it.

"You put an scare in everyone to say, Grigoriev." Portnova stated, taking an seat next to Zasha, her eyes always focused on me. "I did really panick when you were brought back here with everyone, seeing yourself hurt and knocked out."

"How much I was out ?" I asked, curious about it.

"Two days !" Zasha replied, raising two fingers to me with their right hand. "We're the 20th of May." They continued.

"Shit, this long ?" I whispered to myself, shocked to have been 'sleeping' for two days straight, having my right shoulder wounded. "I....I don't know what to think....how's things since ?" I demanded.

"Well, Stone is finally KIA for good and Park make sure that he stayed liked this. Since, we didn't work, wanting to have you back first." Zasha responded, joining their hands together. "Everyone was scare to have lose you, I did see you shooting yourself to kill Stone."

"I know, it was the only way...maybe it was stupid." I proclaimed as these bullets could have killed me only if Stone wasn't behind me but at least, I was here & Stone was out for good. "Are there anything else ?"

"The SAS were able to neutralize the Greenlight bomb Stone stoled and with intels they found in that complex, they managed to find where the others Greenlight bombs were hidden precisely in Western Europe but they can't do an thing because of the CIA." Zasha continued as Portnova was slowly moving her hands towards them, smiling before the two got their hands together, seeing something new on her hands. "And personally....I....I proposed to Yiri...she said yes !"

"You...said yes ?" I whispered, smiling further about it. "That's amazing, I....I'm damn happy about it." I expressed, slowly redressing myself on the bed as Zasha moved an little to make sure that I wasn't going to hurt myself but I gestured to them that I was okay.

"They proposed yesterday....I know that I have to say yes." Portnova spoke up as I was looking at the ring that Zasha gave her, the one they were going to give her years earlier. "Zed told me that...they were going to propose in 1980."

"Yes but...after we discovered the Greenlight files and Perseus took them, I couldn't do it." Zasha breathed, looking at her with great eyes. "I wanted to have you see it but I couldn't resist anymore." They added, looking at me.

"It's okay, you're both good together." I expressed, offering my left hand towards them to took it. "The most important is that you're going to get well together and well protected." I continued, smiling more about thinking of them, finally happy. "The MI6 will do an lot to have you safe including me."

"About the MI6, Park told me that she waws going to offer me an desk job to Century House and I agreed." Zasha said to me and to say, I was quite amazed that Park gave them that opportunity, she had to do it. "For Yiri, Park was able to have an work for her."

"I'm going to be an maths teacher at the University of London." She confessed, remembering the dream she talked about days earlier to us in her old house now. "I'm starting next week."

"That's wonderful !" I grinned, seeing the two that were going to live an good life...until I thought of something. "Uhm....is Park there ?" I demanded in an low voice.

"Yeah, we can tell her that you're awake." Zasha answered.

"Good but...I want to talk to her alone, I need to." I ordered to them as I'm sure that the discussion I will certainly have with her isn't going to be witnessed by them.

"Okay...okay." Zasha whispered before the two got up from their chairs. "Come on, Beans." Zasha tapped at their legs, wanting Beans to follow them outside and to be honest, it was better that Beans goes with them but before she could left, I did tap her for an last time before Beans left the bed and then, the two with Beans leave the room, leaving me alone.

Now that I was alone, I was redouting the moment Park will step inside that room, fearing her reaction towards me....Honestly, this moment was going to be the first time I'm actually scared of Park herself....She did learned that I was present the day in London where her brother died...I don't know how to feel right now. Then, I could see the door handle slowly moving, meaning that Park was just behind that door until it opened, revealing her....changed.

"Yiri." She said in an low voice, sounding happy to see me alive as inside of me, I was fearing that she was going to jump on me in anger. "You're alright ?" She asked for me and I nodded slowly

"Yeah...I'm...I'm good, the shoulder is still hurting me." I replied until I saw what changed in her. "You...you cut your hair ?" I could see that her hair were back like how it was in the days in the old safehouse 3 years ago.

"I...yes, I know that you like it more like that." She stated as I didn't know how to react even if I grinned an little until she moved to get on the seat that Zasha used. "I'm happy to see you alive." She affirmed, offering her hand to me but suddenly, I was feeling ashamed of myself.

"No, I can't." I breathed, looking away from her, impossible for me to look at her in the eyes. "I can't....you know it, you know that I was there that day." I continued, giving my thoughts about it to her.

"I know, it's okay." She admitted.

"Okay ? You & me learned that I did try to save your brother from death but I wasn't fast enough....you should hate me." I told her, almost raising my voice but I couldn't be in anger against her, it's her that should be the one like that towards me. "You should...despise me, even kill me for what I have done."

"No....I will never do that !" She expressed, sounding low in her voice. "Yirina, look at me, please." She ordered even if it wasn't sounding like an actual order, according to her voice. "Please." She pleaded and then, I moved back to look at her, seeing her blue eyes filled with tears, still offering her hand to me that I decide to take slowly.

"I...I relived that day...I talked with your brother." I said as I was always sharing my memory to her and this one was going to be very personal with her. "He was....an good man, seeing the good in me and the same for me. He didn't deserve that." I confirmed, proudly before I moved my other hand to get it on top of hers she was handing to me. "I'm....so sorry, Park."

"It wasn't your fault and I know that." She affirmed to me before with her right hand, she took out from her jacket an paper.

"What's this ?" I asked, curious.

"It's an letter...written by you." She replied, making my eyes go wide at hearing this. "It's unsigned but since Stone told us about what happened that day, I realized that it was you who did write."

"How....what is this letter ?" I whispered as she give me the letter in my hands, to let me take an look.

"While you were here, I did make an trip last day to London in Century House to retrieve some things until I found back this letter, hidden in my desk." She explained, giving more details about the letter as I start to open it fully, seeing my handwritting on it. "I got this a few days after William's death." She added as I start to read the letter.

To William E. Park sister

I don't know you personally and you don't know me but I have to give you this letter by an mean. I know that you're named Helen A. Park and that you're working an doctorate in international relations in Oxford. I know that because I knew your brother William Park, an SAS soldier and an good man, an real good man. One of the few goods man I did know in my life and those people are rare these days.

I'm writing this letter for you because I was there that day, I talked with him in the bar at a few meters the explosion happened but I wasn't an friend of him. Honestly, I did talked with him because he was in danger. I'm working with the organization that orchestrated his death but I was never going to let it happen, I never believed in their ideas but as you know, I wasn't able to save your brother. I'm sorry, miss Park. I tried to save him but I couldn't. Even if I tried to save him, I'm feeling myself guilty for his death.

You're maybe going to hate me and to tear to pieces that letter but each day after that terrible event, I'm still thinking of your brother. Each day, I'm hearing this voice and each night, I'm seeing the same event and because of it, I can't sleep without waking up with an start. I'm so sorry about what happened. I can't tell anything but I want to make sure that I'm trying my best to survive in an difficult world. I want to give you hope but will you accept it from someone like me ?

I'm sorry, miss Park, may your brother rest in peace ! I'm so sorry !

"I....that...I don't know." I started, having finished to read the letter, the tears were already falling down my eyes as I was giving back the letter to Park, looking down. "I'm so sorry." I repeated my words to her, wanting to cry loudly.

"Me too....me too." She grinned, sounding low too as I look at her, also having tears in her eyes. "This is because of this letter that I decide to change my path, it's because of it that I joined the MI6."

"Your brother...he didn't want you to get involved in that world but...." I stopped myself to clean some tears from my face, telling her of words I heard from William in that memory. "I'm sure that he's proud of you." I affirmed, trying to smile until I start to cry for real, causing her to move from her chair to get her arms around me. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

"I'm sorry too, Yiri....I'm sorry." Park was also crying with me....we went through an lot and we both know that this isn't going to end easily. "Even with what I learned, I know that what you said is true.....you're an good woman, I love you." She affirmed, her head on my shoulder. "I need you, we're going to get through this."

"Yes...we will....I love you too." I said to her, feeling an little relieving and happy as we were both still hugging each other....honestly, I was so happy to be with Park and that she know of myself and my actions....I was there that day but she know that I tried to help her brother, she saw it in me.....

"You're an good woman, my Yiri....I'm so proud of been with you....for always."

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #cod bell #call of duty #black ops cold war #yirina grigoriev #helen park #zasha smirnov #fem!bell

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lyssismagical · 4 years

Note

sorry this is a continuation - 1 from sentence starters?? i LOVE the stories you write on ao3 I've read all of them!! 💙💙💙

1 – “Does it hurt?”

{Biodad AU bcs I can’t help myself}

When Tony was flying back from Afghanistan, there was only one thing on his mind.

Peter.

He didn’t care about the past three months. He didn’t care about Obie or whatever he wanted Tony to do. He didn’t care about Pepper who’s supposedly waiting for them at the landing strip. He didn’t care about Rhodey who was sitting at his side, murmuring things about therapy and trauma and injuries. He didn’t care about anything other than his kid.

It’s easy enough for him to compartmentalize all of the trauma. To tuck it all away in boxes labelled Do Not Touch inside his head.

He’s been doing that kind of thing for as long as he can remember. He knows it’s not right but his chest is aching and tears burn at his eyes, as he instinctively grabs the pair of sunglasses from Rhodey’s shirt and slip them onto his face, ignoring the sharp pain from his nose.

“-listening to me?”

Tony looks over at his best friend who’s rolling his eyes. “Something about trauma blah blah blah weapons blah blah blah therapy. Yeah, I don’t really give a shit.”

“You look like you’ve been through hell, Tony,” Rhodey says, eyes filling with so much emotion that Tony has to look away. “It’s not my fault I’m worried about you. You were missing for three months.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Tony snaps, rubbing a hand harshly over his face with a deep breath.

Rhodey’s face falls. “That’s not what I meant. I just think-”

“I don’t care about me right now, okay?” Tony’s chest tightens as an image of the last time he saw Peter flashes through his head. Mandatory SI thing out in Afghanistan. One weekend, Tony had promised. Just two nights with Pepper, and then Tony would be back. He’d never left Peter for longer than a few days for business reasons.

Understanding passes over Rhodey’s face and he pats Tony’s shoulder. “Peter’s okay-”

“Is he though?” Tony demands angrily. “His dad left him for three fucking months. I just- I disappeared on him. I promised him time and time again that I’d always come back to him. That he didn’t have to worry. Oh god, has he been with Pepper this whole time?”

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Pepper with Peter, he does, with his life, but she’s never been alone with Peter for more than a night.

“No, god no, as soon as I got back, I took him to Philadelphia.”

It takes a few seconds for it to click. Rhodey’s family home.

“Your mom looked after him?”

Rhodey nods, shrugging like it doesn’t mean anything. “Yeah, she’s been asking for grandkids for as long as I can remember, so this is the next best thing, I suppose. Don’t be surprised if he’s learned how to knit while there.”

Tony forces a breath of laughter. “How soon until I can see him?”

“Pepper and Obadiah are waiting for you when we land, and I think you should be checked out by a doctor, but as soon as you’re cleared, we can get you there or him here.”

As much as he really doesn’t care about whatever Obie wants or about seeing a doctor, he knows one thing for certain, “I need an emergency press conference scheduled immediately upon arrival. I don’t give a shit what you have to do to make it happen.”

He floats through the day, the following night he’s kept in a hospital room to patch up all the wounds, and the next day he spends trying to convince everybody that he’s okay, he just needs to see his kid.

Until finally he’s on a private jet on his way to Philadelphia with Pepper and Rhodey.

“Are you sure you’re okay, man?” Rhodey asks again, as though he isn’t fully aware of the way Tony compartmentalizes trauma. Like he doesn’t remember the months after Howard and Maria died and the shit Tony did to avoid it. Like he isn’t painfully aware of how much Tony loves Peter and how much he’d fight to get to his kid any day.

Tony nods, forcing a half-smile. “How long till we’re there?”

Rhodey rolls his eyes dramatically, elbowing Tony playfully. “God, you’ve already asked that like a hundred times.”

“And, anyway,” Pepper pipes up from the driver’s seat. “We’re here.”

Tony barely waits for the car to stop before he’s springing out of the car with newfound hope and energy filling his chest where it ached before.

The door opens before he has the chance to knock and he’s pulled into Mrs. Rhodes’s chest in a warm hug.

“I was so worried, boy, don’t you go doing that again, you hear me?” she scolds gently in the way that only Rhodey’s mum could. “I’m making lunch for you, and don’t you dare tell me you’re not hungry, you’re staying for lunch.”

“Okay, let him go see his kid before he blows a gasket,” Rhodey chides, pulling his mom into a hug and waving Tony off. “It’s nice to see you, mom.”

Tony heads down the hallway in the direction he can hear soft sniffles coming from. He makes it to a door where there’s a messy drawing taped to it of Tony and Peter, Peter’s Room, Do Not Enter written across the top, with backwards E’s.

He knocks, suddenly unsure if Peter will even want to see him. He wouldn’t be surprised if his kid was angry or upset or decided he wanted to stay with Mama Rhodes forever.

“Kiddo, you in there?”

The door swings open a second later and Tony thinks his heart must stop.

His kid. His baby. Is crying, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, nose running, and bottom lip trembling miserably. He’s wearing his little Captain America PJ’s, a little short around the ankles and wrists, and his Tony Stark Build-a-bear clutched in his grip.

“Daddy?” Peter sounds unsure, confused, like he can’t really believe Tony’s there.

Tony drops to his knees, leveling their gazes. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy, I’m back.”

Instantly his arms are full of his kid, little arms thrown around his neck and face buried in his chest.

“I’ve got you, buddy, it’s okay,” Tony murmurs, blinking back tears of his own as he presses a kiss to the crown of his baby’s head. “I’m so sorry I was gone for so long, I wouldn’t have been if I had a choice, bambi, I promise. But I’m back now, I’ve got you.”

Peter cries into his shirt, sniffling and trembling in Tony’s arms, and Tony quietly lets a few tears fall, hoping Peter won’t notice.

“I missed you so much,” Peter cries, voice muffled in Tony’s shirt.

“I missed you too, bubba. I missed you so, so much.”

He stands, lifting Peter into his arms and sitting on the edge of his bed, letting Peter wrap his legs around Tony’s waist, making himself comfortable against Tony’s chest.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Peter whines tearfully. “I thought you were gone forever.”

Tony presses another kiss to Peter’s temple. “No, baby, I’m home now. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere, okay? Ever again.”

He knows it’s an impossible promise to make, he knows that much.

It doesn’t take too long for Peter to tire himself out, little fists curling into Tony’s t-shirt and big, glassy eyes blinking slowly.

Peter slips down a little, cheek falling against Tony’s chest but he startles when it makes a dull thudding noise, rubbing at his cheekbone in irritation.

“Sorry, buddy, I know it’s not comfy,” Tony murmurs, pulling his shirt up to show the glowing arc reactor sitting in the center of his chest.

Peter touches it with wide eyes, the blue reflecting in his eyes. He touches it was a quiet kind of curiosity like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. “Does it hurt?”

Swallowing thickly, Tony shakes his head. “No, kiddo, it doesn’t hurt. I’m okay.”

And Peter’s just a kid, he wouldn’t know to find out why it came to be, what happened, he wouldn’t understand the implications of surgery, he just shrugs and presses a little kiss to the center of the arc reactor.

Tony tugs his shirt back down, guiding Peter’s head to settle in the space near his collarbone to avoid the metal, and presses another kiss to his baby’s head, unable to speak with the tears clogging his throat.

“If I sleep, will you be here when I wake up?” Peter asks quietly, childish innocence masking any sort of pain he’d felt while Tony was gone.

“I promise, kiddo, I’ll be right here,” Tony whispers, scared his voice will break if he spoke any louder. “I promise.”

It’s enough for Peter, who closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep easily, fingers relaxing their hold on Tony’s shirt.

When Rhodey comes to get them down for lunch, he finds the father and son sleeping soundly in each other’s arms.

#lyss writes #lyss answers #irondad #biodad au

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chaoticgremlinwholikescheese · 3 years

Text

Harsh Words, Kind Words

TW: Self harm, depression

Y/N’S POV:

“Sam, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking-” Sam cuts me off, whirling around. “Damn right you weren’t thinking! You almost got yourself killed, not to mention Dean and I!” His face is a mask of anger as he looms over me, his chest heaving. “I thought I could handle the spirit. I didn’t mean to mess it up,”

“Well, that’s all you do. You mess up and Dean and I are expected to clean up your messes. I’m sick and tired of it! Dean has a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, and that’s just some of his injuries. Your stupidity almost killed us all. Things were so much easier when you weren’t around!” he’s yelling, his voice echoing around the room. I feel myself shrink back, clutching my arm.

The room goes silent. Both of us stare at each other, one face full of fear and one face full of fury. “Maybe you should leave. Not just here, but the bunker. For the good of all of us.” Sam growls. He stares at me as I leave, slamming the door behind me.

I fight back the tears that itch at my eyes. One escapes, falling down my face and landing in a small puddle on the floor. I should go to my room, lay in bed, cry under the covers. But my feet don’t obey. They lead me to the bathroom. My hands lock the door behind me. I sit down on the cold tile floor, wrapping my arms around my knees.

You should do it, the voice says. He’s right. Your meaningless. No one wants you here, not even you. You deserve the pain. Cut. Bleed. You deserve it. I want to push the voice into the back of my mind like I have a million times before, but this time it’s too loud. Too right.

The one person I thought I could trust, the one person I loved more than anything else, turned his back just like I knew he would. I’m worthless. No one can love a mess like me. I don’t know why I even hoped.

I stand up and open the cabinet above the sink. I dig around, searching for my tool. I pull out my blade and the metal shines in the light, beckoning me. I roll up my sleeves and see the scars that litter my arms. I’m the only one who has seen these scars, the only one who knows just how damaged I am.

I bring the blade down to my skin and cut a deep red line. Blood wells in the cut, flowing down my wrist. I don’t even notice I’m sobbing until I feel the salt in my tears sting me. I cut again and again and again and again, five cuts. Five lines. Five marks of failure. Five badges of shame.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Sam’s calls out from the other side of the door. I hurriedly hide my blade and pull down my sleeves. I wipe my eyes in an attempt to get rid of any stray tears. “Yeah. Give me a sec.” my voice is hoarse from crying. I unlock the door, slowly opening it. Sam stands there, a sad look on his face. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. I never should have said any of those things. I was angry and I let it get the best of me-” he pauses. His brow furrows.

He gently grabs my arm and pulls it toward him. I look down and see the blood staining my sleeve. Shit. I try to pull away but he holds fast. He rolls up my sleeve, taking in the cuts. I can feel panic overtaking me, my chest getting tight, can’t breathe-

“Hey. It’s just me. Take a breath.” Sam’s voice breaks through, bringing me back to reality. He gently leads me into the bathroom, sitting me down on the toilet. He closes the door once more and locks it. He kneels down in front of me, still holding my arm. He examines it, grabbing the towel hanging next to the sink. He presses it to my wounds and I hiss at the sting.

“Did you do this?” he quietly asks. I only nod. I don’t trust my voice. “Oh, honey.” he cups my face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Why?” his voice breaks. It’s such a simple question, yet I can’t answer him.

“I don’t know. It helps.” I say softly. He looks at me, biting his lip. “Please. Stop. For me. I can’t live without you. I love you, Y/N. And to see you hate yourself so much, it hurts me. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, as the most beautiful person on the planet. Your smile is like sunshine. Your heart is so kind, and you do everything you can to help others. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’m not going to sit by and let you tear yourself down like this.”

I feel myself smile through my tears. His words mean more to me than he could ever know. To have someone reassure you that you are loved and needed when you feel worthless and alone, that is the most valuable thing of all. “I don’t know if I can stop.”

“We’ll do it together. Your not alone. I’m right by your side, through thick and thin. We’re going to get through this. You are the strongest person I know. Let’s get these fixed up and then we’ll talk, alright?” his smile is kind and understanding. He’s not afraid by my flaws. He accepts me for who I am, scars and all. It’s going to be a hard road, but I know he’ll be with me the whole way. I couldn’t be luckier.

A/N: I know it’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, but it’s 10 at night and I had an idea. Hope it wasn’t too bad!

#supernatural #supernatural oneshot #tw: self harm #tw: depression #sam x reader #sam x gn!reader

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snarkwrites · 3 years

Photo

Title: snowbound pt 1 of 2/3

Theme: snow

Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.

Warnings: First up. I preface with two strong warnings.. I am not a medical professional in any capacity. Second, I am only kind of a casual Star Wars fan, so Idk how things work in their universe as compared to here on Earth. The actual warnings here are blood!tw and injury!tw. Again, I remind you. I am neither a veteran star wars fan nor a medical professional. So, some things may be entirely wrong. And Ben Solo is most likely written totally OOC as he is not a character I am used to writing, by any stretch although i love him with my whole heart... Anyway... The warnings are: Blood!TW, Injury!TW, OOC fandom character and a strong dose of hurt comfort / fluff in the next parts I kind of hope i get to do for this. This part is so long because I was using it to sort of set things in motion..

Word Count: 2k. Listen, I was setting things up and got carried away, rip me.

Listen... You all just don’t fucking understand how much I love Kylo/Ben... I know, I know, he’s a bad guy. Anyway, this is me doing something I’ve literally been dying to do, a scenario in which Ben somehow winds up Earthbound just in time for the holidays...This is my daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...

OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place around the end of November/beginning of December. Part two will take place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.

Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.

TAGGING:

So, here’s the thing.. There really isn’t anyone on my Star Wars masterlist and like... I haven’t really written anything Star Wars related... Until now. So, if you want to be tagged in my star wars stuff, click the little link below or send me an ask/dm on my main and I’ll happily add you.

@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas

[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]

“What the hell?”

The boom from outside had the windows to my grandma’s old cabin rattling and I quickly sat up just in time to look out the window at the head of my bed to see a bright flash of blue as it disappeared beyond the treeline across the road.

,, Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” my brain nagged at me the whole time I was slipping on the jeans I’d worn earlier in the day. That nagging only grew as I slipped on my warmest boots and by the time I had my daddy’s old shotgun loaded and I was heading out the door, I wasn’t entirely sure if going over to see what the hell was going on in the woods across from my house was a good idea or not.

I mean yeah, the odds were that some idiot kids were racing around Deadman’s curve and one crashed.. Or a drunk trying to drive home on an icy road hit black ice and lost control… At the thoughts of what probably happened, I stopped in the middle of the road and felt my back pocket.

As soon as my fingers grazed the cool weight of my cell phone, I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the woods on the other side of the little country road.

My eyes were adjusting to the semi darkness, so when the wrecked craft came into view just a few feet into the trees, I had to stop and really stare at it, rubbing my eyes.

“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth in a soft gasp as all the breath left my body. I knew exactly what I had to be looking at by now… And rather than turn and walk away, back to my grandma’s cabin, I kept moving closer. Pushing through bushes and trees and overgrown weeds and dead grass as I made my way towards the clearing to get a better look.

I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, because everybody knows there’s a damn good reason we have a military base on the outskirts of our little town and we all know they’re not testing weather balloons out there.. I knew that if this were a military thing, there would most likely be a cover-up.

So I did what anybody would and I pulled out my camera, recording the crash site and taking a few pictures of the craft as I walked around it slowly.

I froze completely when I heard a wounded groan.

Now, I’d assumed that whoever crashed whatever this… Thing.. Was… they’d gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the crash was over.

,,Or they were dead on contact because the impact was really hard.’’ my brain finished. I glanced all around the clearing that the craft crashed in the middle of. Everything was silent. Almost deathly silent, as if something had come along and sucked up all the sounds and background noise. I shivered and hugged myself, swearing under my breath about not having the presence of mind to stop for a jacket or grab my first aid kit on my way over here...

A scream died on my lips when I felt a strong grip wrap around my ankle as soon as I stepped closer to the wrecked craft, bending down to peer inside, my phone out and ready to call for emergency services.

When I looked down, after I dove away as quickly as possible, of course, I swallowed hard and tried to find words.

“Help.”

As he said it, I got the distinct feeling that this was not a word he enjoyed saying, not at all.

I could only nod and when my brain finally felt it had enough time to process what was going on, it kicked into overdrive.

“Can you pull yourself out?” I finally managed to ask the question.

“Trapped.” the word came on the heels of words that were totally unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I knew instinctively that this guy had to be swearing up a storm and in immense pain.

I guess tonight’s one of the few reasons I’m glad I went into the medical field instead of becoming a horror novelist or a starving artist like I used to want to when I was a kid. Tonight my years of school and training and the experience I’d gotten thus far as an intern at the hospital in town was all going to come in handy.

Because the lack of military vehicles or police by now only meant one thing to me.

The military either didn’t know yet so this gave me a chance to finally do something about the way they were polluting the water supply and making people sick or… Nobody knew about this.

Laughing softly at the thought that I might’ve stumbled onto an alien crash landing, I bent lower, peering into the smashed window and I dug around in my jeans pocket until I found my dad’s old pocket knife.

“I’m gonna.. I’ll try to cut you out, okay?” I muttered. He grunted, a light pained scowl playing at gorgeous and full lips.

I leaned inside a little, swearing as I felt shards of glass.. Or whatever the material was on the windows, digging into my hand..As soon as I got a good look, I realized that he wasn’t trapped by a harness or belt of any kind.

He was trapped because when the craft he was inside made impact, the damn thing basically folded like a soda can. I winced. Drawing a few sharp and shaky breaths, the fog from their warmth lingering in the air as I tried to stop and think.

I should be calling EMTS. I should be leaving him here because everything I’ve ever learned about accidents of any kind clearly predicates that if someone is hurt and you don’t know how fucking bad, you don’t move them.

But here’s the problem with that knowledge and my current situation… If I didn’t do something, then either that military installation was going to get away with the shit they’ve been doing the past few years since they mysteriously popped up on the outskirts, show up to finish this guy off in the time it took me to get help on the way… And then they might just do me in also because I had evidence and proof that they were up to something shady out there... Or… They’d find him and take him back to the base and do God only knew what to him.

,, but he might be an alien…” my brain gave me the gentle reminder and the counter argument arose almost immediately, ,, he can’t be. He looks like I do. He looks human. I can’t just turn my back and leave the guy… If he is military and they do realize what’s happened, he’s as good as dead… And I cannot live with someone’s blood on my hands.”

And with that thought, I proceeded to try and figure out the safest way I could to go about breaking years of protocol that had been drilled into my brain.

I started with the obvious. I leaned in, my body brushing against him as I raised my hand, pressing my fingers to his neck, feeling for the jugular so I could attempt to see if his pulse was steady.

He groaned quietly and I explained in a hushed tone, trying to keep him calm, “I’m trying to take your pulse… to make sure it’s okay to move you if I can get you loose. Because we’re gonna have to get you out of here somehow.”

He merely nodded. I almost asked if he spoke the same language as me, but that was a later question. I was still operating under the assumption that I was working with a very small time frame, either way.

Because even if the military didn’t know what happened out here, they would soon.. Because this just felt like something they would be aware of or become aware of. And I wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the guy, especially when he was injured and far too weak to fight them off.

Or so I thought…

,, where the hell am I? What happened? Need to.. Get out of here. Get back to the others.”

I heard it so clearly that for a second or so, I thought he might’ve actually spoken. I answered quietly, “You’re in Montana. Apparently, you crashed whatever the hell this thing is. If you’ll be still and stay calm sir, I’m trying to get you out of here. We have to hurry. If those damn military guys realize what happened and come down, we’re both probably fucked.” and continued checking him over.

I dreaded what I was about to have to try and do, because if there was any internal injury, I was about to make it worse. The goal, I decided mentally, was to move him as carefully but as quickly as possible.

He gritted his teeth and gave another long and wounded grunt as he seemed to pick up on my rush and started trying to maneuver his legs free from the part holding them in place.

“Okay, whoa. Easy, sir. Stop moving, damn it!” I said frantically, eyes widening as they settled on the dark depths of his eyes.

He glared at me, speaking in a calm but firm tone. “I have to get out of here.”

“And if you’ll go about this carefully, like I said before, you might actually live through this. I don’t know if you’ve been injured internally or not. I won’t know how severe your injuries are until I’m back at my cabin. I’m hoping that since you’re vocal enough to be an entire stubborn ass right now, that you’re really not seriously injured.” I snapped back because he’d snapped at me just seconds before.

He eyed me, almost wary. Almost as if he weren’t entirely sure whether to trust me. But I stared him down, firmly as I could. He managed to get his legs free and clear of the way they’d been pinned somehow and if I hadn’t thought the guy might be strong as an ox when he grabbed my ankle before, I now knew that fact beyond a shadow of doubt.

Oh, he grunted and groaned and growled in pain the entire time, but he seemed to be entirely too stubborn for his own good, too hell bent on getting himself out.

Once he was slowly pulling himself through the busted glass and lying on the snow, I cleared my throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to a sitting position in the snow. The form fitting black garment he wore on his upper body was shredded in a place or two from the way he’d pulled himself through the window of the wreckage.

“Do you think you can walk? Because we need to figure something out.” I asked the question as I worked on keeping calm. But I was in a bit of a panic see, because internal injuries are difficult to spot and often, they go unnoticed until the person injured either dies or suffers massive complications. And I knew that me, moving him as little as I had and then him freeing himself from the wreckage somehow and all that movement… It was tempting fate, in my own opinion, but I was that determined not to let all this be covered up or to have this man’s blood on my hands.

He looked as if he were going to attempt it and I stood, holding my hands out to him to at least try to help him. But after the second or third attempt, the fight or flight response within me kicked in and I was… Growing impatient to get him indoors and both of us hidden away somewhere safely.

“I’ve got an ATV up at the cabin. It’s literally just across the road at the top of the hill… I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Are we clear?” I didn’t mean to bark it at him like an order, I guess I just assumed at the time that if he were a soldier who worked that base, he was used to it.

He bit his lip and eyed me.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” that firm tone, I won’t even begin to go into the effect it had on me, but I was the one who wasn’t injured and didn’t possibly have the US Armed Forces about to pop up at any second, so I had to act as if nothing he did or said had any sort of effect on me at all.

And god was it ever hard!

“Which one of us crashed a fucking piece of government property and is injured, sir?” my hand dragged through damp hair and tugged a little as I tapped my boot against the crunchy snow covered forest floor.

“ The ship is mine.” he corrected. I eyed him with a brow raised.

“Whatever you say. Either way, arguing semantics with you is not getting either of us to my cabin.”

The searing pain that shot through my palm as I rubbed it against my jeans had me grimacing, but I tried to ignore it. He stared me down, head tilted slightly.

“Alright. I’m going now.” I turned on my heels and I bolted up the hillside, hurrying so fast across the slippery pavement separating me from my cabin that I nearly slipped a time or two and I finally got to the shed that I’d parked the ATV under after riding it along the creekbank earlier to look for fallen trees I could use as firewood.

The keys were still in the ignition. I jumped on and fired it up, biting back a pained whimper as I curled my hand around the handlebar and that only put more pressure on the wound that I didn’t even realize I’d gotten trying to help the man out.

I shoved out the pain and focused on getting back across the road as quickly as possible. And in the back of my mind, yes.. I did find it more than a little odd that nobody had come down. The neighbors a mile away from me have to have heard… Then I remembered that Herb and Isla were out of town, in Kentucky with their oldest daughter and her family for the holidays.

,, c’mon lady luck, don’t fail me now.” the thought came and went and I took a shortcut through the treeline that I knew would put me straight in front of the crash site. Now I just had to hope to God that the guy was okay and he hadn’t left the scene.

Right as the crashed ship came into view, I spotted him trying yet again to use the wreckage to pull himself to his feet and I rushed over.

“You’re a stubborn one.”

“Trying to..” he took a few heavy breaths and grumbled before continuing, “Get back home.”

“And you can do that.. The second you’re at least partially healed, sir. I’m gonna…” I trailed off, awkwardly positioning myself against his side so that he could use me as a crutch and lean on me to get to the ATV so I could take him back to my place, “Lean on me.”

But the guy was an actual fucking giant.

And normally, in a non life or death situation, I’d have been absolutely mesmerized by… Pretty much everything about him. But tonight, I was too focused. Too intent on getting both of us to safety.

,, daddy always told me curiosity killed the cat. Now look what I’m smack in the middle of.” I thought to myself, grunting a little as he leaned into me heavily, my arm around his lower back and his arm around my shoulders as he clumsily tried to make his way to the ATV.

Once I got on and he managed to get himself on behind me, I took off. “Might wanna cover your face.”

And a minute or so later, as I parked the ATV right at my porch steps to make it a little easier to get him inside, he eyed me warily again, this time questioning, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know who I was?”

“What do you mean was?” I asked the question, all the worst possible scenarios flashing through my mind. And that adrenaline surge from earlier that I had yet to come down from? A little more panicked.

He muttered something and shrugged, putting a shoulder around me again as he grunted and managed to get himself standing.

The light overhead on my porch caught on his bloodied pants leg and I grimaced. “Well, pretty sure that’s a broken leg.”

I kicked open the front door with my foot and helped him into my living room, letting him sink down onto the couch. After I got him all settled in, I rushed around my pantry gathering up my medical supplies that I kept on hand.

And I wandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the handmade heavy wooden coffee table in front of my old plaid couch. “You’re gonna have to… Take off the shirt..”

He eyed me, this curious gleam in his eyes that quickly vanished when I firmly repeated myself.

His eyes caught on my palm and he eyed my own smaller wound, then fixed his eyes on me. “You’re dripping blood on the floor.”

“And I’ll worry about that as soon as I’m totally certain that aside from a possibly broken leg and a few cuts and bruises, you’re fine.” I insisted, a firm tone of my own as I started to tug the ripped fabric up and over his body. I grimaced at the older scars and bit my lip as I surveyed the bruises already starting to form against pale skin. “Are you in any pain at all when you breathe?”

Bear in mind here. I am still only just an intern. So I haven’t actually had to deal with a whole lot in the way of injuries. The most I’m currently allowed to do is make rounds and do consults, checking in on patients to let their actual physician know what they might need or how they might be feeling on that particular day.

So this was all trial by fire for me.

One glance at his well muscled body had me definitely continuing to think that he was one of the guys from the military base and I made a mental note to maybe NOT turn down Carrie if she offered to set me up with one of the guys her fiance knew in the future as I had been doing.

He cleared his throat.

“A little.”

“Most likely dealing with a bruised rib or two. I’ll wrap those for now.. I’ll call in a favor with Dr.Albertson in the morning...I don’t think he’ll tell anybody.”

The man nodded, agreeing.

I went back to cleaning and patching the wounds I could patch and then I turned my attention to his leg.

“I’m going to have to cut your pants leg…”

“Or I could take off my pants.”

I eyed him as soon as he said it because truth be told, not only did he have me flustered in saying it, but also, I couldn’t entirely tell if he were being helpful at last, or if he were being a flirt.

As if to prove he was serious, he rose up slightly, unfastening the black pants he wore, working them down his hips and I have literally NEVER… ever.. Turned away and tried to still catch a peek as I did in that moment.

“Christ. You could’ve given me a second to turn.”

“Why?” he tapped my shoulder as he asked the question and I turned around.

My breath caught in my throat and I quickly had to refocus myself. Because if I thought taking his shirt off was a bit of a distraction… Then him sitting there pantsless was.. A bit more.

I bit my lip and my eyes settled on the lower portion of his leg. The swelling was bad. The leg was definitely broken. I sighed and clucked my tongue, shaking my head.

“I’m gonna have to call in that favor with the old man now. Because this can’t wait to be looked at. And I need to be sure you’ve got no internal injuries.” I stood abruptly, nearly doing so fast enough that I almost landed on top of the guy.

He eyed me and I pulled back and away from him, raising to a full stand. Walking quickly into my kitchen and sliding the pocket door closed behind me.

“Hey, doc? I know it’s late, but if you get this, can you please swing by my grandma’s cabin on your way home tonight? I need your help. And I need someone who can be trusted to stay quiet on what you’re gonna see.”

I’d just walked back into the living room when my cell phone rang in my hand.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d rather explain when you get here, doc.”

“I’m on my way now. Just grabbing my equipment.”

“Thank you, doc.”

“I always told you and I promised your grandma when you were knee high to a grasshopper. If you ever need me, kid, I’ll be there.”

I hung up and sank back down onto the coffee table, letting a deep breath escape my mouth. The adrenaline was starting to wear off finally and all I could do now was… Process everything. Try to figure out just how far up the proverbial creek I might’ve gotten myself.

The man shattered the silence in the room by clearing his throat and reaching out. I eyed him, a brow raised.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re not going to do something about your hand, I’m going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s a little scrape.”

“There’s blood caked on it.”

Something in the look he gave me had me extending my hand. It almost felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself, though I didn’t realize this until much later…

His larger hand gripped mine carefully, holding it on bare legs.

“You still haven’t put any pants on, what the hell..”

“If you called that person and they’re going to come and examine me, doesn’t make sense to.” he didn’t look up as he answered, instead, focusing on swiping the cloth that I’d gotten as a spare in case I needed a clean one for his wounds. When the light overhead caused something in the wound to glisten, I tried to yank my hand free in a hurry, but that sensation was back in my mind and his grip on my wrist tightened to a point where I couldn’t move.

“Be still.”

That firm tone again, honestly, fuck him for it.

“Fine. But I feel like I should remind you, I am a medical professional. I could get this looked at when Doc arrives.”

“Well, I’m doing it now.” he stated calmly, as if I had no say in the matter. And when I opened my mouth to argue, to insist I could just wait the ten minutes it would take Doc to get to my cabin, nothing came out.

He gave me this smug look as he took my tweezers and worked them into the cut, making me bite my lip and take a few deep breaths.

When he finally got the shard free, I pulled my hand back, cradling it against me.

He eyed me, amused it seemed.

“I’ll clean it out and wrap it now, thanks.” I mumbled in a softer tone, giving him a small smile and thanking him.

Now, we just had to wait on Doc to arrive...

#12daysofchristmas #12 days of christmas #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo imagine #ben solo imagines #trapped on earth au #my writing; ben solo #my fics; ben solo #my moodboards; ben solo

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bibliothesoph · 4 years

Text

despondency

Henry shakes his head, trying to push the tears back down. If he stays strong, everything will be okay. They always told him to remain calm in these sorts of situations. They said it would make everything better––fear can kill. So he’s trying to be calm and be the voice of reason here. He’s doing everything they told him to when they prepared him for this sort of thing. Clearly, they didn’t prepare him well enough because he thinks he’s losing his fucking mind. It’s easier when you’re the one on the ground, isn’t it? All his life, he never thought he’d be in this position––the position where he has to bite his lip to keep himself from sobbing as he does everything he can to keep him alive or, at least, alive enough until someone finds them and gets him proper medical attention.

“Attention,” Alex says, his voice loud and probably supposed to be demanding. “The car is here and if you’re not out there in with me in two minutes, I’m leaving your ass here.”

Henry laughs and kisses him, rolling his eyes as he starts to drag his suitcase out of the house.

It’s a clear, cloudless morning in New York. There’s a bit of wind, but it’s not too bad. New York has seen colder springtimes than this one, and it’s due to clear up in a day or two, anyway. Alex and Henry won’t be here to see it, though, since they’re currently on their way to vacation in Mexico for a week. It’s taken quite a bit of schedule wrangling and annoying phone calls with their respective PPO teams to get this arranged, but it’s all finally worked out down to the last detail. A whole week in Mexico with absolutely nothing to do but tan by the sea and go to all of the places Alex has written down to show Henry. Alex may think that this is some sort of compromise––that Henry is only going to Mexico because Alex asked for it––but Henry might be more excited about this than Alex is, honestly. It’ll be a way for Henry to see the world through Alex’s eyes––to see everything Alex loves about it from his perspective. And Henry could not be more thrilled to have the opportunity.

As soon as they’re both in the car and driving to the airstrip, Henry feels a hand in his own, squeezing it.

There’s a hand upon his own, squeezing it. As if Henry’s the one that needs the reassurance right now, not the other way around. He shakes his head again because it’s all too much for him right now––the blood and the thoughts racing through his head. It’s all getting managed up and twisted inside of him and he fears that soon and without warning, he might explode with all of the emotions he’s feeling right now. He should have insisted that Cash or Shaan come along. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He shouldn’t have suggested a walk to the café around the corner for a cup of coffee like it was something they could just do like normal people.

“People are going to stare at us, aren’t they,” Henry says in the air.

Alex rolls his eyes. “Don’t they always?”

“Yes, but…I don’t know. Do you think it’ll be better or worse in another country? You know, one that our families aren’t in charge of?”

Alex shrugs and cozies up next to him, his socked feet landing on top of Henry’s. “Hard to say,” he sighs. “But I do know that if anyone’s staring at you, it’ll be because you look so fucking good in a swimsuit.”

Henry smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Mm, is that so? Even when I inevitably burn myself to a crisp?”

“Mm, you won’t burn. I mean, isn’t sunscreen just an excuse for me to touch you in public?”

Henry laughs and kisses Alex’s cheek before pulling out his book––some beach read that June gave him.

The flight isn’t long compared to some of the other journeys they’ve had together, so when they touch down in sunny Mexico, they feel ready to drop their things at the hotel and start exploring. They’ve got two hotels planned out for the week. The first one, the one they’ll be staying in now, is in Mexico City. The second is on an island off the coast––something secluded and secretive and made for people like them. Though Henry is, of course, excited for the practically private island and all of the amenities it has to offer, he’s more excited about the first part of their vacation in Mexico City. He knows how dear this place is to Alex––how he has so many fond memories here. The idea of Alex playing tour guide is, for some reason, absolutely thrilling to him. Maybe he’ll get him a hat or something. Make him wear a uniform. When he thinks about it, it sounds nice. Would Alex be into that sort of thing?

“You’re thinking too hard,” Alex hums, slinking an arm around his waist as they stand in their hotel room.

“You’re…thinking,” Alex tells him, “too hard.”

Henry tries to laugh but he’s incapable right now. Alex is, as he usually is, right about this. Henry is thinking too much. “I’m not,” he tries to assure him.

Alex, even in this state, doesn’t buy it for even a moment. Instead, he reached up and smooths the lines of worry between Henry’s eyebrows with the pad of his thumb. Henry doesn’t even think about the blood he might be leaving there––it’s not important right now. “Henry, I wan––”

Henry shakes his head again and sniffs the tears away, pushing them down to be dealt with later. He puts more pressure on the bleeding wound even though he knows it’ll do no good. “No,” he says, voice shaking. “None of that.”

Alex’s pale, sweaty face smiles slightly up at him, the corner of his mouth rising slightly. “Plea––”

“You’re going to be fine,” Henry says, cutting him off again. “Do you hear me? Fine.”

“Fine,” Henry groans, rolling his eyes. It’s seven in the morning on their second day in Mexico and, for some reason, they’re both awake. Alex wants coffee though, given how much he’s fidgeting, Henry doesn’t think he really needs it.

“There’s a cool place on the corner,” Alex tells him as they get dressed. “I can call Shaan––”

“What if we didn’t? What if we…snuck out?”

Alex raises an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued. “Oh? You mean to tell me that you want to sneak out without the chaperones? How scandalous! What would the Queen say?”

Henry lovingly rolls his eyes. “It’s just a coffee. We’ll be gone for, what? Twenty minutes? I’m sure we can manage walking down the street. Plus, hardly anyone’s even looked our way upon arriving here.”

Henry starts to leave but Alex tugs him back, slipping something into his hand. “Almost forgot this,” Alex tells him. Henry looks and sees that Alex has just handed him his phone.

“I suppose even vacation can’t really let us get away entirely, can it?”

Alex hums and reaches up to kiss him softly, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You’ll thank me later.”

“Mm, will I? And why’s that?”

“Because you love me,” he says with a smile, “and if you don’t, you won’t get to see me in the special suit I picked out just for you. First you gotta admit that I'm the smart one, though.”

Henry kisses him again with a smile on his face. “I never said you weren't smart. Even when you're being a complete tease and a menace, you're still one of the smartest people I know.”

Alex is smart, though. Always has been. He knows that Henry can’t know that for certain. “Stop it,” Alex groans as Henry presses down more.

Afraid that he’s hurting him, Henry pulls away.

“I meant stop shutting…me up,” Alex says. He chuckles which turns into a cough which morphs into a bit of blood staining his lips.

Henry closes his eyes for a moment, unable to stand the sight of it. He wipes the blood away with his fingers so Alex doesn’t have to feel it anymore. Or maybe so Henry doesn’t have to see it. There’s already so much––his once white shirt is completely red with it. “I just don’t want you to be a pessimist.”

Alex scoffs. “A pessimist? Henry, I’m dying.”

“Henry,” Alex groans, “I’m dying. You’ve embarrassed me to the point of no return.”

Henry rolls his eyes. “Come on, it wasn’t all that bad.”

“You said you were learning Spanish!”

“I am learning Spanish, Alex. I just…I messed up my words!”

Alex nearly doubles over in laughter. “How? Seriously, tell me how you confused the two? They sound completely different!”

Henry opens his mouth but closes it again, not really knowing how to win this battle. “Maybe I should give up entirely. Clearly all that tutoring isn’t very helpful.”

Alex rolls his eyes, nudging him with his shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t be such a pessimist.”

“I’m not being a pessimist,” Henry huffs. “I’m just––I’m acknowledging that it’s hopeless.”

Alex shakes his head and reaches up, kissing the underside of his jaw. “Sweetheart, that’s exactly what a pessimist would say.”

“That’s exactly what a pessimist would say,” Henry argues. He picks up his phone again, texting Shaan. He asks how far they are––how much longer does he have to keep this up? He’s losing his mind; he’s certain of it. All he can see is Alex and the blood. All he can feel is this numbing fear that there’s not a thing he can do to help him right now and that the agents won’t get here in time. If Alex dies now, in his fucking arms, how will he be able to live with himself? They were supposed to have won the battle––they were supposed to have a long, happy life together. Alex has survived a lot of terrible things, and this should be no different. It should take more than some random drunk guy with a gun to kill him.

“Henry, if I…say something…” Alex says, his words getting slurred together, “can you just…l-listen?”

“Can you just listen?” Henry begs, trying to hold Alex back.

There’s a man across the street, completely drunk. This part of the city is completely quiet and dead save for him and his stumbling mess of incoherent Spanish that Henry can’t make out. It sounds threatening, though.

Alex’s face pales as soon as he listens to him. “Shit, Henry, we need to go.”

He starts pulling Henry away, but Henry stands his ground for a moment. “Why? What’s he saying?”

“He’s––shit, he’s coming over here. Just––don’t move, okay? He’s––fuck, H, he’s got a gun just––“

Terrified, he squeezes Alex’s hand and nods.

Henry nods and brushes the tears off of Alex’s cheeks. He leans down and kisses them away for good measure. “Yes. I promise.”

Alex smiles weakly. “I’m sorry,” he begins. “And I know…we didn’t p-plan this…but it’s…it’s okay.”

Henry is trying his fucking hardest to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks. His lip quivers.

“I love you. So…fucking much. More…than you could…know.”

“I do know,” Henry promises him, his tears still threatening to spill over. He holds Alex’s face in his free hand, rubbing his thumb over the skin there. “I know and I love you more than anything. You’re not going to die, you hear me? We’re––you’ll get through this, love. You have to. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Alex’s eyes start to roll back but Henry shakes him, trying to keep him awake. “No, no,” Henry begs, “don’t fall asleep. Just––keep talking to me, yeah? Insult me. I know you’re good at that.”

Normally, Alex would laugh. He would find it amusing. Now, all he does is look up at Henry. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t say a word.

This is when the fear really takes a hold of Henry. It bubbles up inside of him––everything he’s been trying to push down comes up to the surface. He’s alone, he’s terrified, and it doesn’t look like Alex is breathing anymore. There’s blood on his lips. His eyes are dull and glossed over.

“Alex,” Henry says, shaking him. “Alex!”

But Alex doesn’t respond.

Henry feels Alex’s stillness in every cell in his body. It’s the worst kind of pain––there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He screams and doubles over, collapsing on top of Alex with his head on Alex’s chest.

He can’t––he can’t just lose Alex. Alex can’t just leave. It’s not what they agreed on––it’s not something that should happen. He’s so angry that he feels like he’s being set on fire. It pulses in his fingertips, making his fists clench uncontrollably. The tears escape his eyes, flowing freely and violently down his face. He tastes them in his mouth. How is this possible? How can Alex be––

He won’t survive this. There’s no way he’ll survive this. Alex has his heart completely. And now that Alex is gone…what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to get through this? He’s lost two of the most important people in his life now––he can’t…

There’s a hand on his shoulder.

Alex puts his hand on his shoulder before launching himself in front of Henry, taking the bullet shooting out of the man’s gun. The man sees Alex fall to the ground, drops the gun, and runs away. Somehow sober now.

Henry sinks to his knees––the world is falling apart around him.

His world is falling into pieces around him.

It’s Shaan. He’s saying something that Henry can’t hear. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear it. He can't bring himself to hear any voice that isn’t Alex’s. Alex told him––he said everything would be okay, didn’t he? That this would be fun. That nothing would happen. It was just a short walk––the corner and back again. This wasn’t…this isn’t right.

Someone––Zahra, he thinks––pulls Henry off of him, physically restraining him as he fights them to make his way back to Alex. Everything’s muted. There’s a ringing in his ear. He watches as Shaan and Cash huddle around Alex’s body, doing something.

“Don’t touch him!” Henry screams. “Get away from him!”

“They’re helping, Henry,” Zahra says behind him.

Suddenly, there’s a gasp and a rush of movement. Shaan and Cash move away, rushing to both sides of Alex’s body and propping it up. Through his tears, Henry tries to see what’s going on.

“Told you I wasn’t being a fucking pessimist,” Alex croaks with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Henry frees himself from Zahra’s grasp and rushes over, pulling Alex into a hug. He pulls back a moment later, knowing that he’s probably just hurting him.

“I love you,” Alex mumbles into Henry’s hair.

Henry laughs wetly and kisses him. “If you ever do that to me again…”

“What?” Alex challenges. “You’ll kill me?”

Henry shakes his head as more tears spill over, kissing Alex again. It’s only been a few minutes, but God did he miss these lips.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #prince henry of wales #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #fanfiction #prompt #angst #happy ending #FirstPrince

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ikesenhell · 4 years

Text

1985 Camaro

AMERICAN DREAM, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Brief conversation about prior death, otherwise safe. Thank you @missjudge-me for commissioning this piece!

---

They camped out on the back patio until the sun set. He cooked gyoza and rice balls and some pan-fried chicken, and she ordered ice cream delivery, and they nested their knees together and tucked into a pint of something labeled ‘Just Ask’ and when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him, not even when he tickled her (It wound up being a delicious caramel-Oreo flavor). She instead told him about her degree and moving out, about keeping in contact with Mitsunari as he served in Tanzania through hand-written notes on origami paper. They swapped curated Instagram snapshots and embarrassing anecdotes and reminisced.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “About your dad.”

Masamune shrugged. There was nothing to say. It hurt and always would, but that was his private journey. “Old bastard waited too long to have kids s’what. If he’d had me at a nice, respectable age, we wouldn’t be doing this, the old coot!” He waved a dramatic fist at the sky, relishing her giggles. “You fucked up!”

Overhead, his mother’s bedroom light flicked on.

“Shit,” he muttered. She dropped her face into her hands to stifle the raucous laughter.

“How—” Now she was whispering. Masamune wriggled closer, their legs reflexively entwining. “How’s that going?”

“Better than it used to. We can talk without yelling. Something something time and distance. I’m planning on hunkering down here for a little bit, and once all of the stuff is settled, I’ll probably go back north. The restaurant owners offered to hold my position for me, which is really nice.”

“Hell yeah it is. Isn’t that kind of a cut throat world? They must love you.”

“Yeah. Good openings don’t stay open long in the restaurant biz, so that’s really cool.” Absently, he ran his thumb over the whorls of the deck. “What about you? What’s next?”

“Well.” And she paused, eyes luminous. “I got offered a job interview out east. It’s a good job.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Once upon a time, when she was too nervous to really settle her heart on something she wanted, she smiled shyly and fluttered her eyes away. Some things stayed the same. His heart surged as the familiar expression played out before him. “It could be a game changer for me.”

“That the case, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have to do some logistics, and I have to interview, right? But if I get it…” She stretched up to the sky, wriggling her fingers long at the clouds, all the prickled flesh on her arms visible in the cold moonlight. Without thinking, he shuffled closer to warm her. “I mean, I have to actually get to the interview first, so there’s the first hurdle.”

Masamune chewed his lip. “How far out is it?”

“It’s in Virginia. Complete other side of the country. The plane tickets are outrageous.”

“Damn. Guess you’re road tripping, huh?”

A gust of warm breath huffed from her lips. “I mean, I hate going on them alone, but I don’t even have a car right now. Mine got totaled; kid hit me when I was driving down here. Guess I’m taking a damn greyhound.”

His first reaction was to say ‘yikes’, and then… well. Masamune paused, soaking in the possibilities. “So you need a car is what you’re saying?”

“Mmhmm.”

Back in the day, his dad often said that the universe lined things up. Masamune didn't exactly believe in fate—he believed in making things happen—but occasionally, he saw the reasoning.

“How do you like eighties cars?” He asked.

She eyed him, a smile in her eyes and voice. “Like the Camaro? Sure, it’s cool. Why?”

Masamune snickered. “Everything in the Date family is cool as hell. What if I told you I could get you a car and a road trip buddy?”

The click of her brain working was almost audible. “Don’t you have to be here?”

“Gotta wait for the death certificates, which is probably a week or so. Mom wants the Camaro gone, and if she has to be around me too long, she’ll probably get sick of me real quick. I might as well make myself scarce and hang out with a dear friend. Besides—I’ll cut you a deal on selling you it. Call it a test drive.”

“A test drive? For like, a week?” But she was grinning, her shoulders angled in toward his. “Weeklong test drives aren’t kosher, Mr. Date.”

“And I’m not Jewish.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious as my dad’s grave.” Masamume brushed a lock of stray hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Want me along for the ride?”

Once upon a time, years ago, the whole gang got into an altercation with an older man in a Ford pickup. They were only teenagers sitting on a dock, but the guy pulled up and screamed at them for ‘loitering’. Mitsunari tried to intervene, and when the man acted like he might hit him, Ieyasu almost threw hands himself. They’d retreated into the woods—and when the man left, Masamune, Mitsuhide, and she went back and lit the dock on fire to spite him. Right beforehand, she’d fixed him with the most mischievous expression he’d ever seen: mouth sucked into her teeth, eyes glittering, staring out from under her lashes.

Now, she made that same expression, and it lit a fire in him.

“We’d have to leave like…” She mentally calculated. “In three days to make it.”

“Or we could take the long road, do a little sightseeing, and leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She echoed. Only a half second later, that smile was back. “I’m game.”

---

At six a.m. sharp, Masamune tried to wake her by flinging rocks at her window. That didn't work. At last he resorted to calling her, discovering that she stayed in a completely different room now.

“Could’a used that knowledge,” he chuckled, hopping in place to warm his legs. The fog pressed in around him, September chill early this year. “Don’t suppose anyone is using that room?”

Her voice was thin, but warm over the phone. “No, it’s a home gym now.”

“Great! I didn't hassle anyone else. Get out here, Kitten, we got a road to get on.”

She emerged twenty minutes later, sweatpants fresh from the dryer, wet hair in a sloppy bun and a suitcase click-clacking behind her. She never was a morning person. Masamune snickered and popped the Camaro trunk. “Wanna drive, or wanna let me do it?”

“You start. Can we get some Starbucks?”

“Ugh.” He clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “All of the coffee places in the world, and you want Starbucks. My palate is crying.”

Rolling her eyes, she slid into the passenger seat. “Drama queen.”

They got Starbucks. She tucked her feet into fuzzy socks and folded them under her knees, clutching the large mocha. Only the rush of the road beneath their tires filled the silence. Asphalt and trees emerged from the mist like a benevolent ghost, Americana obscured. They’d only just merged onto the highway when Masamune realized there wasn’t an audio jack in the car.

“Shit,” he muttered.

She opened her eyes, head lolling on the headrest. “What?”

He flicked the dashboard. Nope, no audio jack. Not even a CD player. No; amidst all the toggles and buttons of the dash was a cassette player. “I don’t have anything to listen to. This thing won’t hook up to the phones, and I don’t have any tapes.”

“Hm.” Taking a long sip of her drink, she mused, “Maybe your dad has some in here?”

“I guess that’d make sense. Take a look around, would you?”

Sure enough, she was right. Tucked away in the glove compartment was a treasure trove: Fleetwood Mac, Eagles, AC/DC, Prince, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen. “Damn,” she chuckled, “Your dad had good taste.”

Masamune took the copy of Rumors in his fingers, never taking his eyes off the road. The dust was thick under his thumb. “He’d play ‘Back in Black’ when he picked me up from school. It was cool as hell.” With a snap, he pried open the copy of Rumors and popped it into the player. The speakers hummed to life with strumming guitar, Fleetwood Mac echoing. “I know there’s nothing to say, someone has taken my place…” She rested her elbow on the center console, brushing his arm with her as she texted.

“Guess what?” She murmured. “Mitsunari just got back from Tanzania.”

“Oh shit, really?” How long had it been? Masamune mentally calculated the dates. “I guess it has been two years, huh? The Peace Corps finally turned him loose?”

“Yeah. He’s apparently crashing at Ieyasu’s place—” Masamune barked a laugh, and she tittered, but continued, “—and wants to know if we’re going to head that direction.”

“He’s in Maryland, right?” Fishing out his phone, he checked it. “Yasu didn't tell me about this. Bastard. Well, we get there fast enough, then we can definitely hunker down there for a day or so and celebrate his coming back.”

Classic rock kept them company on the long drive. He didn't mind roadtrips. There was something sacred about them. Forget the American Dream; it was dead. Long live the American Road Trip, a rite of passage for the lost souls from sea to shining sea. Nothing cleared the senses like cranking up the heater on the floorboards and rolling down the window to a blast of autumn air. She let down her hair and it whipped wild in the wind.

Thank God she was here. Masamune quietly relished her reappearance in his life. She was a gateway to an old world, one with his father alive, one where he still snuck out of the house at night and biked to the 7-Eleven for slurpees at 3a.m. They stopped at a Cracker Barrel for dinner and ordered root beer floats and roasted each other over the annoying ‘jump-the-pegs’ game perched on every table. Though you were supposed to reduce it to one peg, she couldn’t quite manage it. Somehow she kept getting two or three.

“I got it down to one peg once,” she laughed, shoving it toward him. Masamune swirled it under his hand.

“I can do it,” he commented. “But that’s because Mitsunari taught me the trick years ago.” He knocked the first peg out of the top of the triangle, moving it elsewhere. “That’s the one that’s gotta be empty. From there on out, there’s a set solution.”

She craned over it, investigating. “What’s the set solution?”

A long, hefty pause lingered between them as he slurped some of his float.

“Dunno anymore.” He cracked a grin. “I forgot like, eight years ago.”

“Ass! Then you don’t know!” She swatted at his arm and grinned. “Liar!”

“Hey! I was just trying to look cool in front’a you, Kitten, I can’t look like some big dumb stud after all these years—”

“I love how you allow for the possibility that you’re dumb,” she cackled, “but not the possibility that you’re anything other than hot.”

“Am I wrong? Look at me.”

The roll of her eyes was exactly what he wanted. She shoved a biscuit at him over the table. “I think Mark Twain said something like, ‘it’s better to stop talking and appear dumb than open your mouth and remove any doubt’, Masamune.”

He clutched at his chest, but took the biscuit anyway. “You wound me, Kitten.”

As they were paying the bill, she split off and reappeared a minute later, plunking thirty cents onto the cash register and tucking a cinnamon stick into his jacket pocket. “Here.”

“My favorite!” He peeled back the plastic wrapper. “Thanks, Kitkat. You remembered.”

For the first time since they’d seen each other again, her expression evolved to one he’d almost forgotten. He’d only seen it once before. It was a moonlit night back in their senior year, after prom, when they were both lingering in the pool as everyone else passed out drunk. He’d wiped a leaf from her hair and told her she was beautiful, and she’d looked at him like that so long and hard that he wondered if he’d ever known her inner thoughts at all.

“Of course I remembered,” she answered at last, soft and clarion clear. “I remember all kinds of things about you, Masamune.”

#American Dream #ikesen masamune #modern au #ikesen modern au #1985 camaro #my writing #roadtrip #commission

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