#maybe i should bring it to the haunted house. i do have some down time and it fits in my bag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steviewashere · 8 days

Note

For the kiss prompt....Steddie and 40 please because I saw it and had a burning need for it!

❤️❤️

Okay, this one is far less angsty (I'm hoping) than yesterday's, lol. But I appreciate this prompt a lot. <3

Number 40: "Because the world is ending."

Tags: Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, First Kiss, Slight Love Confession, Steve Harrington has a Bisexual Awakening, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Lives, Last Minute Promises, Protective Steve Harrington

💕—————💕 There was a weight in the way Eddie’s vest laid on Steve’s back. Something that nailed him to the floor, kept him under the clouds but above ground, that anchored him to existence. It provided a sense of security that Steve hadn’t felt in…three or more years.

But there was something about Eddie’s gaze, too, that provided that same amount of comfort. Just one glimpse, one stupid little sentence about lost loves, one panicked nervous fit of laughter—it was enough to make something inside Steve squirm. The same thing he kept away in his own Pandora’s box, deep inside the crevice of his chest behind sinew. It’s where Tommy existed at one point, maybe a few other boys from elementary school. He knew what it was, the pull in Eddie’s gaze. Or, really, the magnetism that Eddie’s eyes held.

It made Steve want to stare back. Made him want to stop the world’s rotation. Made him want to find a way to reverse time, prevent all the evils of his life, find Eddie sooner. He wanted Eddie the same way mosquitos yearn for amber light. Icarus to the sun. Something strong, invasive, all consuming.

Love, he realized. He wanted love from Eddie.

Which makes it all worse when they’re going over game plans. Eddie going with Dustin. Dustin going with Eddie. Nancy and Robin going with him to the Creel house. Max and Lucas and Erica being all too far. There was that pull. A protective surge. Flames in his veins.

It was all so stupid. So careless. Everything they chose to do. The way Eddie knew about some gun store. How his body read nonchalance, but the way his hands shook when pointing out what kind of weapons they could find there. Steve wanted to reach down and wrap his own hands around Eddie’s, squeeze them still, bring his knuckles to between his eyebrows. Do something silly. Like kiss them or kiss Eddie or carve a spot behind his ribs and force Eddie inside of there.

That magnetic pull is back full force once they’re right side up in the Upside Down. Dustin’s a whole four inches shorter than Eddie. Covered in scrap and a hood. And he looks childish, dorky, how he should have been the last several years. Yet there’s a matured gleam to his eyes that haunts Steve, even as he stares it down. And when he glances to Eddie, looking reasonably the same—immature and dorky—green vest that isn’t zipped up, DIY’d leather jacket, ammo belt, and a pair of ill-fitting shiny boots. Steve can only wonder what it would be like to see Eddie not here, not in these circumstances, in his usual appearance. How more…beautiful he’d be if he weren’t so damned afraid.

If Eddie weren’t staring at Steve with something like goodbye. He forces himself to turn away, to stop looking, to stop wanting when there’s no sure presence of tomorrow. It’s like he’s being gifted a litter of kittens, being told not to get attached. Except, he’s already come up with names and collar colors and places where he could put beds. He’s got an idea of where Eddie would be soft if Steve could touch his skin. What nicknames would make him flush and what petnames would make him melt. Steve doesn’t want to be attached, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he ever had the choice.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie calls to him.

A crunching step forward. Steve forces himself frozen to his spot. His back tenses, shoulders hiking, the axe on his back brushes his hair. It’s cold, the metal is solid and real and sharp. His hands are shaking and his eyes are burning and there’s an iron grip around his lungs. Stomach turning and lurching and falling straight to his feet. He doesn’t turn, not yet. Not with the stern and sudden confidence to Eddie’s voice. Don’t get attached, he’s not yours to keep, a voice echoes deep inside him. I want him. I want him, though, that’s not fair, and that’s the petulant part of him. Something he thought he lost when he knocked on Jonathan Byers’s door.

He expects Eddie to continue, but he doesn’t. The rush of blood is loud in Steve’s ears. There’s no other voices. No other sounds. He’d think that the demo-creatures would’ve sounded off by now, but there’s nothing. The weight of everything, he realizes, is behind him.

Over his shoulder, Eddie’s eyes are fierce. No longer pulling on Steve’s arm, rather squeezing him tight by the shoulders, hauling him into his orbit, pressing their bodies and souls tight. Steve is startled and stirring and flippant. He shouldn’t leave. Doesn’t want to. Not when Eddie is…Eddie is what he wants.

And while his eyes are fierce, they are checking out. Somewhere else. And yet, they’re here. For Steve to fall into. And for him to cradle the sure absence Eddie is preparing to make.

“Make him pay,” Eddie’s voice demands. It’s neutral, neither loud and overbearing nor soft and assuring. His voice is a grenade, ring pulled but hammer still intact. Steve wants to pick it up and place it inside his chest. Wants to obliterate at the impact and sound.

He swallows. Wavers. Nods. And turns away.

But he doesn’t take a first step. He just stands, caught between worlds and passions and full body aches. A shiver crawling up his spine and into the back of his mouth. He swears he tastes it, decay. Something leaving and rotting, just as Eddie’s footsteps begin to retreat. To dissipate. Steve doesn’t want to forget the sound.

Without much on his mind, without any preamble or warning, Steve whirls back around. Stomps inside Eddie’s dusty footprints. Their shoes aligning to one another, the same size. His eyes burn lasers into Eddie’s back, but neither of them stop moving. It’s not until Steve is nearly at the front door to the Munson’s trailer that he’s able to grasp to something. His left hand wraps around Eddie’s right forearm. Gripping with the force of hippopotamus jaws. And he tugs Eddie to him. To face him.

Eddie’s eyes look to him in trepidation. There’s something else, like he’s realizing he’s been caught. An apology forming on the tip of his tongue. Before he can part his lips to say anything, Steve takes his right hand and forces his fingernails to indent into Eddie’s cheeks, squishing his lips to be slightly puckered, and drags him towards his face.

Their noses meet first. Soft and tantalizing. Breathing the same air. Steve, for a moment, can smell Eddie’s breath. And he doesn’t care, that neither of them have brushed their teeth in several days. That they’re tasting each other’s rot and stale words. He doesn’t care.

Slowly, he leans the rest of the way in. Pressing his lips to Eddie’s softly. Just soaking in their warmth. How dry and chapped and splitting they are. Pushes in more firmly, fluttering his eyes shut at the sensation. Breathing in gulps through his nose. Messy and wet on Eddie’s lips, but all the same a: ‘The world is ending, so nothing matters, but you matter and my world will end otherwise.’

And when he pulls his head back, he notices that Eddie wasn’t responsive at all. He wasn’t, but Steve doesn’t feel rejected, for once. Or negated. Or pulled taut and snapped in half. His chest glows with a low-level warmth, radiating between them like a candle’s near-dying flame. He digs his fingernails out of Eddie’s skin and cups his cheeks instead. Like protecting that little bit of light melting away at them. He opens his eyes, met with bewilderment and silence and fear and curiosity and…yearning. But also, there’s something shining back on Eddie’s face like a dream has just come true.

Steve takes a sharp, quick inhale. Whispers, “Don’t be a hero.” He’s already said it, he knows that. But…Eddie was never going to listen and he should’ve known that from the get-go. “Don’t be stupid,” he continues, “and you come back here. Come back to me.”

“Wha—“

“Come back to me,” Steve urges. “I want to know you. And I want to have you. I want to…I want to need you all the time, you understand me? Come back to me, all in one piece, away from danger. Or else I will kill you myself.” He nods once. Swipes his thumb over Eddie’s still jutting bottom lip. “Promise,” he demands lowly, “promise I can see you again.”

Eddie’s gulp is loud between them. His breath puffing hot and cold over Steve’s fingers. But his voice has lost all ferocity. Going soft and controlled and loving. “I promise, Stevie,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll find you back here.”

Steve nods one more time. Short and affirmative and final. He draws his hands away. Zips up Eddie's vest. And brings them back to being limp at his sides. The very foundation of his being shakes. “Good. And I like that. I like that name, Eds. Call me that again, promise.”

“Promise,” Eddie echoes.

“Not a goodbye,” Steve feels the need to say.

“Just a see you later,” Eddie states. And there’s an honest tone to him that settles all the frayed nerve endings inside of Steve. Before he gets the chance to turn back, Eddie gently cradles his face in turn. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Just for luck,” he murmurs, “be safe.”

There’s a weight in those words, too. Steve tethers to them.

And they ring out at the final blow to Vecna, as the flames engulf on all sides of the house. When they return to one another and all that’s wrong is a splash of ugly dark blood on Eddie’s cheek.

They’re safe. The world will always end, but they’re safe.

💕—————💕 Kiss Ask Game <3

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Eddie munson lives #angst and #angst and hurt/comfort #first kiss

95 notes · View notes

madame-wilsonn · 2 years

Text

Hold me, love me, touch me

(Be the first who ever did)

MASTERLIST

Request: "it’s breaking my heart to see you like this" - maybe for Tommy? — @thesoldiersminute

Summary: If you hold me without hurting me / You’ll be the first who ever did

or: after running away from Grace’s funeral, Tommy finds some comfort in your arms

A/N: this is veryyyy different to what I usually post but i’ve had this idea for so long!! It’s inspired by a few scenes from the show as well as a few LDR songs. I would just like to add this quote from California because it fits the story well:

You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are When you're lying in my arms, baby You don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace Or faster than my fastest cars

Also big big big thank you to my pal @hauntedheathcliff and my bg @huntingingoodwill for helping me out, i don’t think i would have finished and posted it if they weren’t here!! this is the first very long one shot i post, I hope you all enjoy because i’ve been working really hard on this and i think i got too attached to it oops…anyway have fun!! <3

Warnings: mentions of death, war and just angst overall; a bit of fluff (old habits die hard)

Word count: 6,464 words

Thunder rumbled. Its echo reverberating on the tall trees.

Tommy could almost hear it.

The grieving sky screaming. The leaves whispering. Murmuring the same haunting chant over and over.

She’s dead. He killed her. She’s dead. He killed her.

His vision blurred. For an instant, he thought he was finally crying until he noticed the rain. It was raining.

A drop. Then another. And another. And another.

The tears rolling down Tommy’s peaked cap turned into weeping. The sky wailed its pain, crying the tears the widowed man didn’t have.

He couldn’t bring himself to.

Was he so broken even the death of his wife wouldn’t affect him?

The man brought the half-empty bottle of whiskey to his lips. The golden liquid cast a gentle warmth on his entire being. Tommy welcomed it, only wincing as the taste burnt his lips.

At least he could still feel that.

The reason he couldn’t cry for his late wife, he knew it.

That very reason made him cower with shame. Run away from her mourning family. Hide from his own son who, only aged two, reminded him so much of her.

But how could he cry for a woman he had never been in love with?

He swallowed another sip.

No matter how many times he had foolishly tried to convince himself, he was never in love.

He cared for her. He was loyal. He was devoted.

But never in love.

No, his heart belonged to another.

He chugged at the bottle, drinking until he couldn’t breathe and his head felt dizzy.

He closed his eyes, the heavy rain making him shiver.

Her image, engraved on his eyelids, shook his heart. She had always been aware of it. There was a distance, a wall between them. He didn’t look at her the way she wanted him to— no spark, no tenderness in his gaze. They shared a house and a family but that’s all they would ever have.

If Tommy married Grace, despite her betrayal, it was only to do right by her.

And he never regretted it.

Thomas Shelby wasn’t a man of many regrets.

He was a man of guilt.

Marrying a woman he didn’t love to preserve her reputation— to protect her— just to get her killed instead.

That was all him.

He stared blankly at his hands, an empty chuckle leaving his lips.

Those hands. Dripping with innocent blood.

So much blood.

Blood on her porcelain skin. Blood on her powder pink dress. Blood on his pristine white shirt. Blood. Everywhere.

And it was all his fault.

Gulp.

If there was one thing worse than being responsible for Grace's death, it was the shame he felt.

Even dead, he couldn’t give her what she desired. He couldn’t mourn for her the way everyone expected him to. His heart couldn’t break for her the way it should because it never belonged to her in the first place.

Gulp.

His son was going to grow up without his mother. Tommy knew how that felt. It was the last thing he wished for Charlie. To grow up the way he did.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.

The last drop of ember liquid slid down his throat and Tommy stared at the clear glass. There was no consolation. No rest for him. Not here. And certainly not at the bottom of that bottle.

He got up suddenly, stumbling through the large field into his car. Glancing at his pallid face in the rearview mirror, he sighed.

There was only one place Tommy could hope to find comfort tonight.

A soft knock on the door tore you from your thoughts. A swift glance at the clock pointed to the late hour as you slipped your robe on. You crossed your apartment warily, wondering who could visit in the middle of the night. Who could be brave— or stupid enough to defy the pouring rain outside?

You opened the door slowly, your heart pounding in apprehension.

“Tommy?” You opened the door slowly, heart pounding in apprehension. “Gosh, Tom, you must be freezing! A-are you okay?” you quickly ushered him inside.

Grabbing his coat and cap, you handed him a dry towel.

You hadn’t seen him since the morning, at the funeral. He left after his speech, handing Charlie to Polly and taking his car.

His brothers spent hours searching for him but it was useless. If Thomas Shelby decided he didn’t want to be found, then nobody would.

You hesitated for a moment. Maybe you should warn Polly or Ada, tell them he was with you.

Instead, you brought a comforting hand to his soaked arm. “Would you like me to make you some tea?”

“No, it’s alright. I…I don’t even know why I came here,” he slurred, his eyes darting around— always avoiding you.

Guiding him towards the sofa, you managed to get a better look at him.

To say he seemed tired was a euphemism. His eyes lacked their usual spark and his skin had a sick, grayish tone. He had aged twenty years in about a week.

Your heart clenched in your chest as the memory of the young man he used to be appeared. His clear laugh rang out somewhere in your mind and you thought about the long nights spent with the other. Up there, on the roof of some abandoned factory, dreaming of a gilded future.

“Do you think you can get up? My brother left some clothes here, you could change into something dry.”

Tommy took a cigarette out from the pocket of his black jacket. You observed him, watching the same ritual you’ve witnessed countless times. The cigarette between his lips, he muttered “It’s fine,” before inhaling the smoke. “I should go anyway. Shouldn’t have bothered you so late at night. ‘M sorry.”

Your hand reached for his. “No. You’re not going anywhere, Tom.”

He observed you as he felt your thumb running against his skin. Such a simple gesture yet it took Tommy a moment to recognize the small display of affection.

Your touch sent shivers down his spine, different from the ones he felt because of the cold— enjoyable. He decided to focus on the warmth emanating from your hand, sitting back down.

He wondered when was the last time someone had been so tender with him. The last time touch didn’t rhyme with broken bones and bruises. The last time he seemed important enough to be handled with care and gentleness.

“Hey,” you announced softly, taking a seat next to Tommy. “How’s your arm doing?”

He took a swig straight out of the bottle of champagne. You instantly recognized the “gift” offered by Grace as he handed it to you. “Feels like it's been shot,” he shrugged, his gaze fixed on his passed-out brothers.

Sighing, you swallowed some of the bubbly liquid again. Even though a part of you was thrilled to see the blonde barmaid gone— you had been wishing for that ever since she stepped into town— seeing Tommy so heartbroken snatched the joy away.

To your dismay, her arrival in Small Heath brought back parts of him you thought were lost in some deserted french field. It shattered your heart to see his smile, the somehow sparkling eyes, the lightness in his demeanor every time—and only when she was around.

And yet, if it meant him being happy again, then you could deal with the disappointment and the jealousy and the yearning. You could handle watching his joy from afar. Even if you weren’t the reason behind his smile, even if you weren’t part of it. You just wanted him to be happy.

But it was all a lie.

Who would have thought it was merely a scheme?

Probably the oldest one in the book— to get close to the man in charge and trick him into handing the information on a silver platter. No one suspected her. Not even Polly.

She had managed to fool all of you, the same way you’d fool a child into drinking some nasty medicine.

“And you?” you finally ask, turning your head to observe Tommy. “How are you?”

You noticed the clench in his jaw, the pause—a fraction of a second too long before answering “Good.”

"Really good or ‘just leave me alone’ good?”

He grabbed the bottle from your hands, staying quiet and you took this as a sign to ask again. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

One of the things Tommy cherished the most in your relationship was his ability to be honest with you. You seemed to understand, or at least accept what others qualified as flaws. He knew he could ask you to go away if he wanted to without upsetting you. It comforted him in some way.

But then, the thought of you leaving made his heart clench painfully in his chest. The swirl of emotions was too much. Too much for him to deal with alone.

His hand searched for yours, squeezing it gently. The words didn’t need to be uttered. You sat closer to him and for some reason Tommy couldn’t understand, his head rested on your shoulder.

It wasn’t calculated. He didn’t even think of it.

One minute he was carrying his heavy heart alone. The next, you stood by him and lifted some of the burden away.

Your fingers made their way to the shaved part of his head and Tommy closed his eyes. He could forget about everything. Forget about the throbbing pain in his arm. Forget about Danny Whizzbang. Forget about her.

He could just lean on you for a little bit. Focus on the feeling of your nails grazing his skin. Let the faint scent of aldehydes wrapped in roses suffocate the demons in his mind.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself, Tom,” you whispered after a moment of silence.

He scoffed and you brought your hands to his face, lifting his head from your shoulder. “I’m serious,” the fierce look in your eyes confirmed your words. “It could have happened to any of us. And you’ve been through so much. You wanted to believe you could finally allow yourself some peace,” your thumbs ran across his cheekbones. “It was with the wrong person but you still deserve it. You deserve good things.”

Tommy stared at you, almost bewildered. How could you say those words to him— and believe them when you knew what he was? He wondered if your friendship affected your judgment. Made you less able to separate the man he was from the memories you had with him.

As if you had been reading through his mind, you interrupted his ruminations. “I know you’ve convinced yourself you were all bad and evil but you’re wrong. The voices in your head are wrong. There is still good in you, Tom. I know there is, I can see it,” your hand slid from his cheek, dropping to his heart. “Right here.”

Tommy could only observe you. The determination in your voice, the earnestness in your eyes, you were convinced with your own speech. So much that a part of him began to trust you.

You smiled softly at him and he swore he felt his heart miss a beat. “You’re going to meet a nice girl. And she’ll be funny and sweet. And she’ll probably have the patience of a saint to deal with your stubborn arse.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at your remark. “But she’ll love you more than anything else and she’ll be lucky because you’ll love her just the same.”

And while Tommy listened intently, the only thing he could think about was you.

Everything you described. Everything you said.

You. You. You.

It was you.

Tommy pressed his palms against his eyes until light dots appeared in his vision. He was beyond exhausted. His head, his arms, his legs ached. His entire body was begging him to surrender. Wave the white flag and give up.

He didn’t know how many battles he could still fight. How many blows he could still stomach. How many times his heart could still be torn apart and keep going.

If all of this was extra, why did it hurt so much?

“I called Polly,” you cut Tommy’s train of thoughts, entering the living room. “Charlie’s alright, he’s asleep now. She is staying at Arrow House with Ada.”

Tommy sighed, his gaze fixed on his trembling fingers. You observed him quietly, noticing the habit he had when something bothered him. He kept clenching his jaw anxiously. To the point you worried he might dislocate it.

Trying to catch his attention, you cleared your throat. Once. Twice.

And realizing he was far too gone into his own mind, you lightly touched his shoulder.

“You should get some rest. You’re tired.”

“I’m alright,” the response was short. Cold.

Anyone else would have backed down. Apologized, even. But you sat next to him, your concern only growing and decided to ask, “When was the last time you slept, hm?”

The dead silence that followed said it all.

You shook your head, a desperate sigh filling the quiet room with your worry.

“I wish there was something I could do,” your fingers brushed against his damp hair. “It’s breaking my heart to see you like this, Tom”

He stared at you, feeling your breath tickling his cheeks— the soft summer breeze embracing him after a hot, straining day.

And something in the air shifted.

Maybe it was the comfort Tommy found in your eyes. Maybe it was the way his heartbeat seemed to chant your name. Maybe he just wanted to.

But he leaned in.

His lips caressed yours, almost timidly before he moved closer. He was kissing you. The dwindling ember ablaze at the sweet taste of your lips mixed with whiskey and tobacco. A precious nectar Tommy knew he could never live without now that he had tasted it.

It seemed to be the only way to bring air into his lungs. Yet somehow, he felt breathless at the same time.

The feeling of his lips— so strangely soft made you dizzy. Your brain didn’t seem to work properly as you kissed him back. Tommy. Kissing you.

You almost giggled, a warm rush spreading in your chest and your head and everywhere in your body.

The only thing keeping you from bursting in flames was the cold. From his hands. His shirt. His hair twirling around your fingers.

You relished it. Cherished his calloused skin against yours. The dazzled lightness in the air.

At that moment, you were no more than a simple woman. And he was a simple man. Kissing you so passionately in the faint twilight.

Your hand touched his, grazing the golden band on his finger and you felt the bubble around you explode.

You weren’t a simple woman. He was far from a simple man.

You pushed him away, regretfully. Your body was almost leaning in again, craving more of the electricity skipping through your veins.

You wanted to be his. And him to be yours.

But not like this.

You knew Tommy like you knew your way back home. He couldn’t address his grief properly. He had never really learned, even after years of practice. The only thing he was used to was taking the pain away, no matter how. No matter the consequences he’d have to face.

And you were well aware of that.

Tommy wasn’t kissing you out of love or even out of desire. He was kissing you to feel better. You couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Certainly not to you.

But the look he gave you as he realized what you had done made you want to throw it all away.

To hell with morals and honorable principles!

Who needed that when you could kiss him over and over again? When all you had to care about was his heart pounding against your palm, raindrops cooling down your flushed cheeks.

“Tom…” you resigned yourself.

No, you couldn’t just throw it all away. He was mourning his dead wife and he was in pain. You couldn’t take advantage of that.

His hand left your waist as if it had burnt him and guilt soon replaced the gentle warmth in your chest. But it was for the best.

At least, you tried to convince yourself it was.

The terrible humiliation was nothing compared to the regret he’d feel as the sunlight cleared his mind. He couldn’t realize it now. Too intoxicated, protected by the moon’s sheltering shimmer.

You had to keep your composure. Don’t let yourself be fooled by the comforting embrace. It was all an illusion. Giving in meant feeding the sliver of desire you tried so hard to contain.

You couldn’t live off some false hope.

You couldn’t risk your own sanity just so he could choose her.

Not again.

Running through the empty halls of the company, heart pounding in your chest with worry, you prayed.

Please let him be there. Please make sure he’s safe. Please. Please. Please.

Your heels hit the hardwood floor, each step resonating through the halls of the empty building. Out of breath, you almost fell to the ground when the engraved glass doors appeared in front of you— at last, liberation.

You pushed them open, not paying attention to the sound of the slamming doors. A relieved sigh left your lips, your gaze falling on him.

In his armchair, almost asleep, Tommy didn’t budge at the noise. He lazily opened one eye, observing your disheveled hair, how breathless you were. Sitting up, questions bubbling in his chest, he opened his mouth but you interrupted him before he could say a word.

“Where the fuck have you been, eh?” you yelled, walking into the office. Tommy left his chair, carefully joining you in the middle of the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He only stared at you, waiting for the anger to settle down. He realized how worried you must have been, how terrified it was to not find him after he left so suddenly. But he could only feel relief.

Two hours ago, he was kneeling in front of a grave, waiting to be shot. And now, he was with you, getting a well-deserved earful for disappearing.

Tommy had probably never been this happy to get yelled at.

“…And nobody knew where the fuck you were! And then there were shots and we were all running around, even got my new shoes ruined!” you rambled, your hands waving around. “Arthur told me it was over but I couldn’t find you! I searched everywhere, even asked that posh girl who looked after your horse! And I swear to God, someday I will put a leash on you! Disappearing like that! I-“ You stopped abruptly, your expression changing as you noticed the bright red staining Tommy’s temple “You’re bleeding. Why are you bleeding? What…”

“I’m okay,” he replied softly, feeling a change in the air. You closed the distance between you, your hands reaching for the injury.

“What happened to you?” You whispered, your voice higher than before.

Thomas’s hand wrapped yours and he smiled, trying to reassure you. “I survived, Y/N. I’m alive.”

Your lips wobbled, eyes watering and your anger wafted away, replaced by a gut-wrenching worry.

The words he uttered to you at the races before he left took on their full meaning. You couldn’t realize it at the time but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed your temple and promised to come back.

It had felt a little too familiar but you couldn’t remember why.

He was saying goodbye, that’s why. He promised something he wasn’t sure he would keep just to assure your peace of mind.

Suddenly, you were back on the train platform, watching him walk away to a most certain death, completely powerless.

You almost lost him today. Again.

He was gone but then he came back.

Maybe there was a reason. Maybe you were granted a second chance after letting the first one go. Who knew if you would get another?

You couldn’t waste it.

You couldn’t let your last chance slip through your fingers.

You couldn’t risk losing him.

Not without him knowing about your feelings.

“Tommy, I…”

His arms wrapped around your waist stopped the words on the tip of your tongue. He held you close, so close his heart beat right over your ear. One gentle kiss on your temple. His fingers threading through your hair, you closed your eyes.

“I’ll buy you new shoes. I’ll buy you all the shoes you wish for. Even hire a cobbler just for you,” he whispered, tightening his embrace.

“Forget about the shoes…” you started, trying to find the right words.

But what could you say?

Nothing seemed enough. All so insignificant compared to the love you carried like a cherished picture in a locket— always close to your heart.

“I have to tell you something,” he interrupted, a soft smile brightening his expression. “I’m going to be a father.”

“What?” you asked, leaning back.

“Grace’s pregnant with my baby. I’m going to marry her and we’ll raise him together.”

And the world seemed to crumble around you.

Who knew a sentence as simple as this could have the same effect as a thousand cuts?

You could only stare at him, your mind playing the words over and over again— a broken record you were doomed to endure for the rest of your days.

Your eyes burnt with bitter tears attempting to escape their prison. A million questions rushed through your brains, striking each other until nothing made sense.

Not her. Not her. Anyone but her.

You would find another way. Raise the child yourself if you had to. But not her.

He couldn’t fall for her again. You had to talk him out of it. Reason with him.

You couldn’t lose him like this.

“Y/N?”

You focused your attention back on Tommy, noticing the frown forming between his brows.

He expected your answer. Hell, his decision probably depended on your next words. But the idea of a baby…

He had given up on that.

The dreams of a happy, somewhat normal life had been buried in the tunnels. Covered in mud. Lying next to the decaying bodies of his comrades.

And now, it was so close to him. He could reach through the mud and get this life back. He could try to leave the war behind. Let a new life forgive all the lost ones.

Let the flowers grow over the old tunnels.

You bit the inside of your cheek. No, you couldn’t ruin that for him. He went through enough. He deserved some rest.

No matter how selfish you wanted to be, he would always be above all foolish sentiments.

A forced, poorly attempted smile made its way on your face— locking the tears away.

“I’m just…I’m so happy for you,” your voice broke as relief washed over his tired features. He hugged you again, chuckling. “You’re going to be a wonderful father,” there was no hesitation. Only the truth.

“And you’ll be an even more wonderful aunt,” he kissed your cheek, rubbing your back. “Don’t tell Ada I said this.”

You clutched his jacket in your hands, biting your lips hard enough a faint metallic taste covered the bile in your mouth.

The familiar feeling was here again. An impression of déjà-vu. Back on the train platform. Watching him leave.

But this time, he wasn’t coming back.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, we can’t…” but he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t listen to whatever excuse you had.

The only thing worse than being rejected by you would probably be hearing you say the words.

I don’t love you, Tommy.

No. It would be the fatal blow. He wasn’t ready for that.

He got up, the alcohol in his blood seemingly gone— deserting, leaving him powerless.

“Tommy, please”

You kept saying his name like it mattered. Like it would change anything.

Shaking his head, he pulled his arm away.

Nothing could mend the raw rip, tearing his heart in half.

It made no sense to him. He was convinced there had been something.

You.

You who stood by him through everything.

You were the only constant.

Your relationship, his only haven— the solid deck on vicious waters.

Never breaking. Never busting.

What would he do if the deck shattered?

Tommy didn’t have the answer to that question. He didn’t want to know.

The cold pit in his stomach as you leaned back was enough to make him leave. He couldn’t bear looking you in the eyes, terrified of what he’d find there.

He had to go.

You followed him through your apartment, calling his name. He wasn’t going anywhere, you wouldn’t allow it. Passing the door meant giving up on your friendship.

It couldn’t end this way.

“Tom, listen to me,” you pleaded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” struggling to find your words, you felt the lump in your throat growing until you were suffocating. “Please, don’t go. You can’t go now, you can’t.”

He grabbed his jacket. The sound of your voice withering almost made him stay. Force a smile on. Tell you it was alright.

No matter how hardened he grew with the years, he never could stand you crying. Ever since the day he met you.

You had scratched your knee on the dingy pavement and he carried you on his back. He even stole a chocolate bar to console you— the little girl with braids and the sweetest laugh his ears were blessed to hear.

He swore he’d do anything to bring the smile back on your face. Engrave the lightness it carried in his heart.

You would know no woe. No grief.

Not as long as you had him.

You clenched your jaw, desperate tears starting to roll down your cheeks. Deep down, you knew your choice was the best but the sight of him leaving—even worse, hating you, made you sick.

“Tommy,” your voice broke, “Please, you can’t leave now. Please…,” one last wretched attempt to get him to stay.

Time began to flow so slowly you could swear it stopped.

The clock didn’t tick. The fire in the hearth didn’t crack. The wind didn’t blow.

The world around you held its breath. Waiting. Carefully listening to your beating heart. Pounding against your ribcage. Each thump edging you to the forlorn void of despair.

But if there was one promise Tommy wouldn’t break, it was the one he made to the little girl with her braids and her scratched knee.

His greatest weakness.

You.

Fingers freezing on the doorknob, Tommy listened to your quiet sniffles. He bit his tongue, feeling the guilty grip around his heart.

The moment of hesitation— only a few seconds but it was enough time to put your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” your forehead rested against his as you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. “But we can’t do this,” Tommy clenched his jaw, his shoulders slouching in apprehension. “You’re only doing this to feel better and I wish I could help you, I do. But I won’t let you wreck everything just to regret it tomorrow and probably the days after…because you love her.”

A trembling breath left your lips. “You're in love with Grace and you’re mourning and…”

“What?”

Tommy pushed you away, deep creases forming on his forehead. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Tom…”

“What are you talking about? Why would you say that, eh?” confusion in his voice turning into venom, the lack of sleep grinding his nerves.

“Y-You love her. You love Grace, she was your wife and I’m sorry if…”

“Is that what you think?” he spat out as your hands reached for him again.

The fatal blow.

Unexpected. Sharp. Lethal.

“What do you mean?” you stared at him, puzzled at his brusque reaction. “Grace was…”

“Stop saying her fucking name!” he snapped, eyes maddened by his own anguish.

The mere sound of her name was enough to stir the guilt overtaking his body— stabbing the same bleeding wound over and over.

You stood before him, not knowing how to act.

Tommy rarely lost his cool. He always had the upper hand over his own emotions. You were used to that. You had learnt to deal with his seemingly unshakable façade.

This was different.

“Is that what you think, hm?” he repeated, cutting the stunned silence reigning “You think I was in love with her?”

You had no idea what to reply. You couldn’t grasp the reason behind his outburst. His anger and his hurt were part of a puzzle missing its central piece.

Twisting his words in your mind, you tried to find a clue— anything to help you understand. The accumulation of distressing events was the most obvious answer but it still didn’t explain everything.

“Tom, I don’t understand, I…” you finally admitted, powerless faced with his own torment.

Your confession made him scoff. Tommy’s chest heaved and he clenched his jaw, biting back the words burning his tongue.

The turmoil of emotion began to overwhelm him and he knew that as soon as he opened his mouth, words would flow uncontrollably. The wise decision was to walk away.

Walk away and blame the concerning amount of whiskey in his blood the next day.

Just walk away.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Of course.

The heavy lump in Tommy’s throat seemed to explode, spreading its vehement poison across his body.

“I was never in love with Grace.” he spun around, facing your defeated expression “I was never in love with her because I’ve always loved you. You.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t say anything. But Tommy didn’t expect you to. “She was the mother of my son and I cared about her but the way I love you… You are the only woman that ever mattered and without you…” his voice broke, eyes watering.

The wave of emotion washed over him with such intensity, air barely reached his lungs.

Drowning.

He felt like he was drowning. Condemned in a tormented sea. Desperately gasping for air yet only allowing more water in.

Tommy considered the idea of forsaking— let the water burn his throat, churn at his insides as long as he could rest. As long as his soul didn’t ache.

But at the very last second, he felt hands pulling him out.

You embraced him, arms tightly knit around his neck, his head resting against your shoulder. Tommy closed his eyes, treasuring the small moment of peace granted to him.

Feeling the strength in his body failing, you guided your bodies to the carpeted floor. His arms tightened around you and you sighed.

His confession had been everything you ever wanted to hear and you desperately wanted to believe him. Craved to whisper those same words back.

But could you trust the words of a man so inebriated he would probably not remember by the morning?

“It was all an illusion”, you reminded yourself.

Tommy, your friend, may have been the man you loved but he was also a widower. Maybe it made no sense to act this way and maybe you should believe him because why else would he say this?

But it was unfair to expect him to “make sense” after what happened to him.

He needed comfort. He needed to stop being the man in charge, the “always standing” one. He needed you to be his friend.

Only that.

Your hands rubbed his back soothingly and you kissed the side of his head, chasing the voice in your head begging you to give in.

For now, you’d have to content yourself with that.

A gentle embrace, mending the scattered pieces of his heart in the dark hall. Tommy couldn’t let go. Your arms provided the solace he longed for—the lifebelt keeping him afloat.

And as you held him, he could only think about the time. The time he lost. The time he could have had.

If only he had said something…

The train platform turned into a sea of teary goodbyes, children escaping their mother’s grasp and boys, men— soldiers, leaving for France.

Clutching Tommy’s army jacket in your hand, you felt his fingers brushing the tears on your cheeks.

“Come on, sweetheart, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he attempted a soft smile.

“Then don’t leave us.”

And he knew he would. He would do anything if it dried your tears and erased the sad pout on your face.

“Please, just one smile. I want to see you smile.”

In case it was the last time.

Tommy searched through his pockets, waving a bright blue box in front of you. “Now you can’t cry anymore,” he muttered with a sly smirk.

You stared at the chocolate bar and couldn’t help the grin making its way through your tears. You swung your arms around his neck, cutting his breath short as you hugged him.

Tommy returned the embrace, closing his eyes.

He could never open them again and stay with you. He wouldn’t have to go anywhere. Just stay. Thread his fingers through your hair and kiss you and love you. He could just stay.

Neither of you wanted to let go. You were pretty sure neither of you could.

As long as you had him. As long as he had you. Nothing could reach you. Nothing could hurt you. If only you held onto each other tighter.

But a loud, piercing whistle resonated through the station, breaking the tender embrace. Tommy took a moment to admire you. Gentle features and radiant smile. That’s how he wanted to remember you. His thumbs reached under your eyes. No tears.

Not today. Not ever.

He wasn’t sure he could keep standing there as you cried and not cry himself. Blinking away, his jaw clenched, he let his fingers trail down your cheek.

His touch was so soft, so light—like feathers tickling your skin— it almost made you forget why he was leaving.

You tried to smile, even as a few rebellious tears tried to escape.

Oh, my darling Y/N...

And he thought he might finally admit it. Confess right here on the noisy train platform. Whisper the words into your ear and make you promise you’ll wait for him.

He was already walking towards death, he might as well free himself of the secret he kept for so long— the same way a condemned man would.

“Tommy?”

He focused his attention on you, the delicately embroidered handkerchief close to your nose. Your eyes reddened with tears, cheeks still damp.

Yes, he could say it.

But what if he didn’t come back?

What if he told you he loved you and died in some french field? What if the only thing you got back from him was a box of his belongings and nothing else?

“I…I just…” You wouldn't handle it. You were already terrified of what would happen, he couldn’t add to that some foolish confession just to feel better.

He couldn’t risk it.

“I’ll miss you. Take care, yeah?” he leaned in, kissing your temple.

“Come on, Tom! We’re gonna be late,” Arthur’s deep voice urged him.

“I’ll write to you all the time,” you promised, your hand reaching for his.

Tommy didn’t let go, holding your fingers until he was too far. He stepped onto the train, his eyes always set on yours.

One last glance. One last smile.

And he was gone.

Arthur and John found a compartment where they set their bags, greeting other soldiers. But Tommy wasn’t paying attention.

He had a chance. He could have said it.

No. No, it would have been too selfish to blurt it out and leave. He wanted to tell you he loved you but not under Death’s malignant threat.

He would admit he loved you only if he could live to fulfill that promise. When he could take you dancing. When he could be sure to fall asleep kissing you and wake up just the same.

What was the point of saying it if he never had the chance to show it?

But could he really risk dying without ever telling you?

If he died and you never knew he loved you, he would regret it.

One last whistle resonated through the train station. The train wobbled, slowly moving.

No. No. No.

Tommy left the compartment, running to the corridors.

“Tom, what the fuck are you doing?”

The last thing he wanted was to break your heart if he didn’t come back. But he couldn’t leave without you knowing just how much he loved you.

He just had to make his way back to you.

And he could. He could fight and floor his opponent if it meant coming home to you.

He just had to say it. He had to.

He would never forgive himself if he didn’t.

Pushing away soldiers, ignoring their exclamations and complaints, Tommy finally reached the last car.

It was full but it didn’t matter. He burst in, running towards the window. Quick. Before it’s too late.

I love you.

Soldiers were staring at him as if he was mad.

Maybe he was.

I love you.

He leaned out, almost tipping over and falling. He didn’t care.

I love you.

Tommy spotted you amongst the crowd.

I love you. I love you. I...

But the train had already left the platform.

It was too far. It was too late.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, defeated.

No one noticed the tears in his eyes. The train rushed under the dim tunnel as regret filled his body with immense darkness.

Too late.

You woke up with a groan, shy rays of sunshine tiptoeing through your quiet apartment. But you couldn’t enjoy the warm weather. Not when every limb, every muscle, every fiber of your body ached.

On the floor. You had fallen asleep on the floor.

You groaned again, stretching your sore legs. As you tried to get up, the night before came back to your mind.

At least you had an explanation for your aching neck.

You called for Tommy, expecting to find him in the living room but the room was completely empty.

The exhaustion in your body was enough to not question it too much as you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a cup of tea. And maybe some sleep in your bed.

But as you moved towards the table to prepare your breakfast, you noticed a small piece of paper.

Recognizing Tommy’s clear writing, you felt a warm rush through your body and a smile creeping on your tired features.

#ma ptite bombasse 🥰#tommy <3 #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #peaky blinders #anna's fics #500 followers celebration #anna's grand ball #peaky blinders

1K notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 3 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 13

Eminem x FemReader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Reader sees Em for the first time after their argument, weeks later.

Tags : Little bit of angst, Comfort, Lots of FLUFF 🥰

CW : Mention of overdose ; Mention of blood ; Mention of miscarriage

It had been three weeks since your argument with Marshall. It took you about three days to cool off and regret all the unkind things you threw in his face. In all fairness, you were still a little mad about the lying and the mean stuff he said, but you deeply regretted your words. Deep down, you knew it was out of line to throw his past in his face. You were haunted by the look of hurtness you saw as soon as you mentioned him hitting women. You contemplated calling him to apologize, but every time you grabbed your phone, you could hear his words : “You are nothing but a whore and a junkie. I should have left you at that party, to get fucked by whoever was there. Hell, maybe it would have been better if you had overdosed on pills before we met”. You wished he would make the first step and call you, but he didn’t. You didn’t really mean all the things you said, but maybe he did, after all. Not that you could blame him : you really had been a bitch on this one. You were starting to resign : maybe he wouldn’t call at all, maybe your friendship or whatever it may have been was well and truly over. That was how it had seemed that night anyway.

It also took a few days for you to salvage your relationship with Talia. When you had gotten home that night, you were beyond livid. After all, she had lied to you too : she had definitely failed to mention that Marshall was with her when she confronted Cassie at her hotel, and that he threatened her. You were so mad that you actually threatened to leave the house and find another place to live. Thankfully, Jamal convinced you to stay and, with a lot of talking and countless apologies and sweet gestures from Talia, everything got better. The two of you were so close that it was virtually impossible for you to stay mad at her and, obviously, her cooking your favorite meals and bringing sweet little gifts for you every time she went shopping helped a lot in that department. This girl knew you so well that no man could impress you with gestures at this point. Not that any man would come knocking on your door anyway. Your roommates were basically the only thing keeping you sane. You had obviously told them about the altercation with Marshall and they saw how depressed you were in the following weeks. They took care of you by trying to take your mind off things and making sure that you ate enough. You also suspected that they had something to do with Cassie not leaking the pictures. You weren't aware of the details, but as far as you knew, Marshall had taken care of things. Though the diss track wasn’t out (probably because it wouldn’t have been very timely with the other rapper being in the hospital), Cassie had contacted you the following day, sending you a video proving she was deleting the pictures. That was the last you heard of her. You were a bit curious as to the turn of events, but you didn’t want to ask for details. Too much pride on your part.

To sum things up, life was starting to get normal again. It was as though you had never met Marshall. If it weren’t for his necklace around your neck, his Saint Laurent jacket in your closet and a few selfies the two had taken together on some occasions, you could have sworn it had all been a dream. Talia and Jamal had eventually stopped mentioning his name when you were around, as they saw how painful it was for you. At the very beginning, they tried to talk you into seeing or calling him so that the two of you could work things out, but you were so worked up that you refused. Eventually, though, they resigned.

One of the most important drawbacks was that you barely saw the rest of the crew anymore, since you did not hang out at the studio. Porter and Royce came for dinner once or twice and you were happy to see them. You definitely weren’t as close to them as you were with Jamal or Marshall, but you had fun whenever they were around. So, when Porter texted you to invite you to his birthday dinner, you were obviously excited to go.

You know that everyone from the studio is going to be there, right ? Talia asked. Including… Well, you-know-who.

Oh, you said sheepishly. I hadn’t really thought about that, I guess… Thing is, I already said yes. And I love Porter, and I don’t want him to be caught in the middle of… whatever, you know ? Maybe I should just find an excuse and cancel at the last minute ?

Ooor, maybe it would be a good opportunity for you and Em to talk again, Jamal said.

Yeeeeah… I don’t know about that, you replied.

Come on, girl, he said. You guys will have to talk eventually, you know ?

Do we though ? You asked. I mean, it’s been nearly a month and, as far as I know, we’re both doing pretty well. I didn’t die, even though he might prefer otherwise.

Pretty well ?! Talia scoffed. Honey, you are doing terribly.

I’m not, you argued.

We heard you cry last night, Jamal pointed out.

Well, I was having uh… lady problems. You don’t know how bad those period cramps can get.

You’re not due for another two weeks, Talia said with a raised eyebrow.

Well maybe I was sad, you shrugged. About uh… Cats or something.

Quit the bullshit, Jamal replied as he rolled his eyes. The two of you need to talk things out. You’re best friends. That’s ridiculous.

He hasn’t called, you said.

Girl, don’t start, he said. You haven’t called either. You’re both too proud for your own good, and this needs to end.

You sighed. As always, your friends were too good when it came to calling you on your shit. You knew you had too much pride, but just for once, you wished they would leave you alone. No matter how much you were missing Marshall, his smile and his silly jokes, you couldn’t face him. If you were to see him again, you were pretty sure you would have a heart attack.

Look, it’ll be awkward for everyone if you guys don’t talk things out, Talia said tentatively.

I think you are underestimating my ability to keep going like this, you mumbled.

I am sick of this shit, Talia said. You love us, right ?

Of course I do, you scoffed.

And you want us to have good times with our friends, right ? She asked again.

Yes !

Then, you will make an effort, she said sternly. I already have divorced parents, I will not go through the same things with you and Em. We are friends with both of you, and you are going to have to find a way to deal with that.

Yeah, but I’m your roommate so you love me more, right ? You said cockily.

Y/N !!! Jamal said with his loud, authoritarian voice he only used when you were being a brat.

Fine, you said with a sigh. If I cross paths with him, I promise I’ll be… courteous. But I’m not calling him.

We’ll see about that, Talia sighed. And you will apologize ?

Depending on if he does, you shrugged.

You guys are so similar it’s actually scary, Jamal chuckled.

A few days after this conversation, Jamal came to find you in your room one night after he got home from the studio. You were already in your pajamas, watching The Wire, a show that was once recommended to you by Marshall. He was right : you thoroughly enjoyed it.

Hey sis, he said with a smile. Are you busy ?

Well, I’m currently having a bomb ass pool party with all of my imaginary friends, as you can see, you said sarcastically. What’s up ?

Just to give you a heads up, Em is coming tomorrow, he said with a smile.

Wha-Why ? You asked.

He wants his jacket back, he shrugged. For a photoshoot with some magazine, I think.

Wouldn’t it be simpler if you brought it to him at the studio ? You asked.

It would, he replied with a grin. But it wouldn’t get the two of you to talk.

You’re impossible, you said as you rolled your eyes.

Come on, you know you’ll have to face him eventually, he said.

Not if I could have it my way, you mumbled. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to see me anyway.

Well, believe it or not, he is not against the idea, Jamal said with a grin.

Really ? You asked, surprised.

Really. I told him he could come here to get the jacket from you tomorrow afternoon, and he agreed, he said.

I could just leave the jacket for him and spend the day somewhere else, you said tentatively.

Don’t you even try that shit, Jamal said. You are facing him. Come on, Y/N. I know you miss him.

But he hates me, you replied, on the verge of tears. And he is right to. I was so mean, Jamal. You have no idea.

Well, from what I gathered, he was pretty mean too, your friend pointed out.

I’m so scared, you whispered as you began to cry. You should have seen his eyes. He hates me. I don’t want to see that again. It’s too hard. I can’t…

Jamal chuckled and sat on your bed before pulling you in for a hug.

You care, he said.

Of course I care ! My best friend hates me !!! You cried. I fucked up. Everything.

… and you miss him, he added.

Yes, you whined.

See ? Doesn’t it feel good to admit it ? He asked with a smile.

It does, you admitted shyly.

Jamal kissed you on the forehead.

Better get that Jacket out of your bed, he chuckled.

It’s not in my bed, you said.

You were hugging it a few nights ago while you slept, he said. Don’t lie.

You come into my room at night, now ? You groaned in embarrassment.

Only when you cry in your sleep, he shrugged. Anyway, dinner is almost ready.

That night, you could barely sleep. You were so stressed out you were pretty sure you would develop an ulcer from stress. What if he didn’t show up ? Or worse, what if he actually showed up ? What if you argued again ? Would he say all these mean things all over again ? The following day, you were a mess, and the lack of sleep definitely didn’t help. You decided to bake, to change your ideas. You usually cooked when you were happy and baked when you were stressed out or frustrated. It was Saturday so Jamal was due on his weekly visit to his grandmother’s. Talia was quietly drawing in the garden. You were in the middle of cutting fruits when you heard the doorbell. You knew who it was. Your heart was pounding, and you tried to compose yourself before opening the door.

Hi, you almost whispered when you opened the door.

Hey Y/N, Marshall said.

You looked at him and it was like being hit by a bus. He was even more beautiful than you remembered. He was wearing jeans, sneakers and a leather jacket. For once, he seemed to have ditched the Kangol hat. His blue eyes were staring at you, and you couldn’t help but think he looked absolutely breathtaking. He was oozing charisma. The fact that he arbored an unreadable expression made him seem even more impressive. You stared at each other for a moment, not saying anything.

Can I come in ? He asked.

Oh, sorry ! Yes. Sure, you replied as you stepped aside for him to enter the house.

It felt as if you were meeting him for the very first time. He had the same unreadable expression he always had when meeting new people, far from the warm character he displayed for those who actually knew him. You didn’t expect him to flash a smile, of course, but it was extremely awkward.

Were you cooking ? He asked as he looked at your apron.

Baking, you said. Talia is in the garden, if you want to go and say hi to her. I just have to finish cutting these fruits and I’ll go and get your jacket, ok ?

Do you, uh… Need help ? He offered as he followed you to the garden.

Oh, I’m fine, you said nervously before grabbing your knife and getting back to your fruits. It’ll only be a minute. So, uh, how are you ?

I’m good, he replied. That is a big knife, you might want to be careful, there.

Don’t worry, you said as you tried to calm yourself and look him in the eyes. How is uh… work ?

Good too, he said, still with a neutral face. How about you ? Everything good with uni and life ?

Yeah, you replied nervously. You know, working on that dissertation, same old… SON OF A BITCH !!!

You yelled as you felt the sharp cut of the knife on the back of your hand. You were so busy looking at him and trying to find things to say that you hadn’t actually paid attention to what you were doing. It was, indeed, a big knife and you were bleeding profusely.

Shit, Marshall said. Are you alright ?

Of course, you said nervously. It’s just a small cut.

Looks pretty nasty to me, he said. Let me have a look.

He got closer to you and gently took your hand to inspect it. The contact, however innocent, almost caused you to have a heart attack. You never thought you could actually faint from being so nervous, but it seemed like you were about to be proven wrong.

Are you afraid of blood ? He asked as he saw your face.

Nope, you said as you swallowed dryly.

No offense but you look like you’re about to faint, Y/N…

I’m fine, you said nervously. I’ll go and grab some disinfectant in the bathroom.

Sit, I’ll do it, he said before quickly leaving the kitchen.

You decided to go and find Talia. She was focused on her drawing. She was insanely talented. You had always thought she should pursue it as a career but she couldn’t bring herself to quit her office job, no matter how much she disliked it. She was focusing on adding some shadows to nature scene.

Hey Tay, you said.

Hi baby, she replied without looking up. What’s up ? Isn’t Em supposed to be here, yet ?

Uhm… We might need to take a raincheck on that talk, you said as you swallowed nervously.

Don’t start, she sighed as she looked up. Oh my god !!! What happened ?! What did you do ?!

Cutting fruits, you explained.

Oh Lord, she said as she walked to the kitchen with you. I can’t look at this. This is terrible.

Marshall was standing there, rummaging in the pharmacy box he had found in the bathroom.

I don’t think you have any disinfectant, he said sternly. There’s a bottle but it’s empty.

Oh, you said. I’ll just put my hand under the faucet to rinse the blood, then.

Baby, it’s a deep cut. You probably need stitches, Talia said as she sat at the table to prevent herself from fainting.

It’s fine, you replied. Let’s not make a big deal out of it, shall we ?

They were both looking at you in disbelief. You were bleeding quite a bit, but there was no way you were going to the ER. You had developed quite the fear of hospitals since your miscarriage and overdose.

I think Talia’s right, Y/N, Marshall said firmly.

I’d rather die a long and painful death than go to the ER, you said.

Don’t be stupid, Talia said. Em, do you think you could take her ? I would, but I’d faint behind the wheel before we get there.

Sure, Marshall said.

No need to bother, you told him with an awkward smile. I’ll finish my pie and then go on foot.

He looked at you and let out a chuckle.

First of all, your strawberries are covered in blood, so I think you’ll have to take a raincheck on baking. Also… You’d have to walk for an hour to get there. Probably two, with your tiny legs, he said.

I can walk, you replied.

This stubborn girl will get tetanus before she actually sets foot in the ER, she told Marshall as she referred to you. Make sure she gets there ?

Marshall’s a busy man, Talia, you said. I will happily take a cab.

Don’t be silly, Y/N. I’ll take you. It’s no problem, really, he said.

OR we could wait and see if the bleeding stops by itself ? You tried, even though you couldn’t convince yourself.

Come on, Y/N, Marshall said. I’ll take you… And you know I don’t bite, he added as if he could sense your apprehension.

You sighed and looked at the two of them. It was clear that they would not leave you in peace, no matter what you tried to pull. Marshall was looking at you with a reassuring look. He wrapped your hand in some bandage, in order to cover the wound, and Talia helped you get ready while he cleaned up the utensils, so that she wouldn’t have to face the blood. The, he led you to the car and helped you buckle your seatbelt.

Thank you, you said sheepishly as he got in the driver’s seat.

Does it hurt ? He asked.

A bit, you shrugged.

In all fairness, you were almost too busy processing the shock of seeing him again after a month to actually feel pain. He started driving and you spent a few minutes in total silence.

So, he said as he cleared his throat. Should we get to it ? We might as well. It’s going to be a bit of a drive anyway.

Get to what ? You said in a small voice. There you were again, about to die of nervousness. God, you could be such a coward, sometimes.

To talking, Y/N, he sighed. You cut your hand, you can’t feign a brain injury. And I know you’re not stupid…

Right, you sighed.

There were a few seconds of silence. In this instant, there were many things you wanted to say, but you couldn’t quite muster the courage.

Shall I go first, then ? He asked.

Sure…

Look, he said, I… I shouldn’t have lied to you. It was wrong. To be honest, I contemplated telling you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to disappoint you. And you were right anyway. I shouldn’t have threatened Cassie, and I definitely shouldn’t have sent those guys. It was stupid and I’m sorry.

Thank you, you whispered.

But I want you to know one thing, he continued. No matter what it looks like to you, I did do it for you. I was sincere when I told you I was looking out for you. It was the wrong way to do it and I definitely got carried away, but it was for you.

He looked at you and you nodded silently.

God, that’s quite a cut, he said. Your bandage is soaking in blood already. At this rate, you won’t have much blood left in your body…

Oh, I’ll live, you said. Unfortunately, I guess.

Don’t say that, he groaned. Look, I’m sorry about what I said about you overdosing. I didn’t mean that. I was pissed. You were going all out on me, and I reacted like a jerk.

I’m sorry too, you replied. I was mad at you, but I didn’t mean to be so… mean.

No, he said as he shook his head. Whatever that was, that wasn’t mean, Y/N. That was cruel.

You looked at him and noticed his hands crispating on the steering wheel. He looked tense.

I know, you said. I’m sorry.

I don’t think you know, actually, he replied. I know I fucked up, but picture this… Imagine meeting someone great and immediately connecting with them. You think they’re cool, interesting, and you find yourself able to talk about difficult stuff together, stuff that you can’t usually talk about. Now, imagine that they become one of your best friend in a matter of months. You hang out, you text all the time, you look out for each other, and your bond becomes stronger and stronger each day. You feel like they know you like no one else, like they appreciate you for who you are. Like they are one of the few people on earth to actually take time to get to know the real you. Imagine that you let down your guard down for once, for them, because they’re fucking worth it. With time, you even fall for them. Hard. To the point where you are ready to let go of some of your principles. Because once again, this feels different. This feels worth it, right ? Now, imagine that you fuck up and they’re mad at you. Happens, right ? But imagine that they actually use this as an excuse to take all the things you hate about you, the things you regret the most from your past and they throw them in your face. Stuff you never even talked about with them before, so you didn’t even have a chance to clear the air or provide context. They use it against you. How would you feel ? How would you feel if your best friend, the most amazing woman you have ever met, throws that shit in your face ?

I’m sorry, you said as tears started to well in my eyes. I am so sorry, Marshall…

You fucking hurt me, Y/N, he said. Hell, hurt can’t even begin to describe how I felt. For months, I was feeling great by your side. I thought we had a good thing going on, you and I. If you had just asked me questions about that shit, I would have answered thruthfully. Because I hate that side of me, but I can be honest about it. But to have you, of all people, using that shit against me, that was vile. I can’t say a lot of people have managed to hurt me this much.

You could feel the raw emotions in his voice : sadness, anger and resentment. He was looking at you intently as he spoke, unmoved by the tears streaming down your cheeks.

But I guess you know how it feels, now, he continued. Because I did the same shit. I took what you regret the most in your life and I threw it in your face. Hurts, doesn’t it ?

Yes, you whispered.

Sorry, he said as he took a deep breath. That needed to come out.

I am so sorry, Marshall, you said as you looked at him. I was mad at you but I know I shouldn’t have said any of this. It was wrong. Not that it’s any excuse, but I let Simon get in my head. He said all of these awful things about you and I didn’t believe them. But then, you lied to me, and you were here, like that angry guy I never knew, trying to destroy someone and I… It made me mad, you know ? And a bit scared, too. But yeah, I know it was so wrong. When I cooled off, I wanted to call and apologized, but then, I remembered you saying it would have been better if I had died, so I didn’t. And then, you didn’t call either, so…

You were trying to breathe properly as you cried. It was hard for you to contain your emotions. His look softened a bit.

You want to know why I didn’t call ? He asked.

No, you replied. I mean, yes. But… You don’t owe me an explanation. I was a bitch. I deserved it.

That’s not it, he explained. I did that to protect you. I was so hurt and pissed that it took me a while to cool off. And I knew that if I called or saw you, I would probably be even more of an ass. As mad as I was, I didn’t want to hurt you more.

You nodded as you stared in his eyes.

I’m so sorry, Marshall, you repeated. I miss you so much. I am one month sober today, and I can say that it’s easier to stay away from drugs and booze than it is to be away from you. You’re my best friend. I miss you, I miss your hugs, I miss your stupid dad jokes and the way you look down on me whenever I say I don’t know something about hip-hop culture. Being away from you… I hate it.

I hate it too, he said softly.

You both exchanged shy smiles and drove in silence to the hospital, the atmosphere being more peaceful.

When you finally arrived, he helped you get out of the car and gently hugged you, making sure he wouldn’t hurt your hand. You walked towards the entrance and, as relieved as you were that the two of you had managed to talk, you were tense. This place brought up too many bad memories : the miscarriage, waking up after the overdose, the painful breakup with Simon… Marshall took your healthy hand in his and squeezed gently.

You’ll be alright, he said. You got this. And I got you.

You do ? You asked nervously.

Just because I hated you and didn’t like you for a minute doesn’t mean I stopped loving you and caring about you, he said. At the end of the day, you’re still my best friend, you know ?

You smiled shyly and advanced towards the entrance some more.

How about… We do best friends stuff and get some ice cream ? You nervously offered.

This is not going to work. You’re going in there, and you’re getting stitched, he said.

Yeah but we could get ice cream first, you pointed out.

Your blood is literally dripping on the floor as we speak, Y/N, he chuckled. So ice cream will have to wait until we’re done.

You groaned and eventually stopped walking.

What’s wrong ? He asked.

I’m scared, Marshall, you said. Being here, it brings back so many memories. I… That’s where I lost my baby, where I woke up after the OD, where I broke up with Simon. I can’t do it. I can’t be here.

You voice was starting to crack. He face you and gently stroked your cheek.

I hate it too, he said. If you look over there, I think you can see the window of the room where I woke up after my overdose. I almost died there. So, believe me, I know what if feels like to be scared of this place.

Why did you agree to come then ? You asked.

Because you need to be here, he replied softly. Because it’s been more than fifteen years. And because even though hospitals are scary ass places, lots of good stuff happens there too. They save lives. They can also save your pretty hands, he added with a chuckle.

He squeezed your hand again and led you through the corridors. He helped you fill the forms while you were in the waiting room, while reassuring you simultaneously.

You’re going to be fine, he said. It’s just a few stitches, not open-heart surgery.

I’m starting to feel sick, you said sheepishly.

You got this, he repeated. Think about the ice cream we’re going to get after, ok ? What flavor do you want ?

Strawberry. My baking plans didn’t work, so I might as well. Or maybe a vanilla Mc Flurry with M&Ms.

That sounds like a plan, he chuckled. If you’re brave, you’re getting both.

What do you want ? You asked back.

MFlurry sounds good, he shrugged. Come here.

He put his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. A nurse quickly called for you and you reluctantly left him, as he mouthed the words “You got this”. Once you were in the room with the nurse and the doctor, you couldn’t help but act out a little bit. You let them know that you were insanely scared of hospitals and needles so they offered you a bit of laughing gas to help you relax. In a few minutes, you got out with stitches on your hand and a big bandage, as well as a prescription for painkillers for a few days. You found Marshall in the corridor, talking to an attractive nurse who was definitely flirting with him. As soon as he saw you, he smiled.

See ? He said. You did this. I’m proud of you.

I’m really really brave, you said, still under the effect of the laughing gas.

Got the laughing gas, did you ? He chuckled.

Yup, you said, popping the P. I’m ready for my ice cream now.

A deal is a deal, he said with a grin.

I’m getting a Mc Flurry with M&Ms… with Eminem, you giggled.

The bad joke caused Marshall and the nurse to have a burst of laughter.

Sorry about her, he told the nurse.

It’s fine, she grinned. I’ve heard worse laughing gas jokes.

How long do you think it will last ? He asked. Just so I know what to expect.

Let me see, she said as she examined your prescription. Well, the effects of laughing gas don’t last too long, usually a couple of minutes, but seeing as she’s under painkillers… I’d say you might be in for a couple more hours of jokes. Basically until she sleeps.

Great, he chuckled as he looked at you. Well I think I better feed you.

I’m really really really hungry, you replied.

Better get going, then, he said. Thanks Nicole, it was nice seeing you.

Goodbye Marshall, she said with a smile.

Not goodbye to me ? You asked, causing Marshall to chortle.

Yes, sure, of course. Goodbye… Y/N, she said as she read the name on your prescription.

You were both giggling as you got out of the ER and made your way back to the car.

You’re impossible, he chuckled.

Whaaaat ? You asked.

Nothing, he said as he shook his head. You’re funny, that’s all.

You let out a giggle as you both got into the vehicle and went to a drive thru to get some ice cream and to a pharmacy to pick up your prescription before going home. The laughing gas was definitely putting you in a good mood. You kept on singing along to the radio. Eventually, one of his songs came on and you thought it would be a good idea to try and display your nonexistent rapping skills. He was crying tears of laughter when he finally parked in front of the house.

That’s not even the real words, he chuckled.

Well, you made it really difficult to rap, you pointed out.

To be fair, you also really suck at rapping, Y/N.

You stuck out your tongue and got out of the car as he shook his head.

Guess who’s baaaack ? Back agaaaain, you sang as you got through the door, Marshall chortling behind you.

Oh my God, Talia said. Are you drunk ?!

She’s fine, Marshall chuckled. Painkillers and laughing gas, that’s all.

Looks like she’s having the time of her life, Jamal chuckled.

You have no idea, Marshall said with a laugh.

So I take it that the two of you guys are alright ? Talia asked.

Yes, you said with a dumb smile. He’s my bestie again.

Well… Like she said, he said with a smile.

Talia engulfed him into a hug.

Finally, she said. I can’t have you guys mad at each other !

Want to stay for dinner ? Jamal offered. It’s been a while since we’ve had you here.

Sure, he said with a smile.

Yay, you said, causing all of them to chuckle.

After dinner, the four of you ended up playing Cards Against Humanity. Marshall and yourself were by far the most sarcastic, pushing each other further in the dark, sometimes tasteless humor. You kept on giggling, partly because of the laughing gas and painkillers, but also because it felt so good to have your best friend back. Eventually, though, you let out a small yawn.

Time for bed ? Marshall asked.

I don’t want the evening to end, you said with a small pout. I’m having such a great time with my three favorite people. You’re all my besties and I love you so so much.

You’re so cute, Talia swooned.

There will be other times, Marshall said with a smile.

You know what we should do ? We should have a bestie’s sleepover ! You exclamed.

I’m in, Talia chuckled.

I’m OUT, Jamal said. What’s next ? Facemasks ?

You’re no fun, you told him as you rolled your eyes. Marshall ?

Seriously, Y/N ? He chuckled.

You flashed a grin and batted your eyelashes.

I missed you, you said tentatively. AND I’m one month sober today.

You’re impossible, he giggled. Fine. You’re definitely high right now, but it’s medical, so it’s not technically breaking the streak…

No offense, but I’m not handling the two of you on my own, Talia chuckled. You guys go and have your little sleepover, I’m staying with my man.

Are we that bad ? Marshall chuckled.

I love having the two of you back as a dynamic duo, she said with a smile. But you are so similar it’s just too much at some point ! You make each other better and worse at the same time.

I like it, you giggled.

Me too, Marshall replied.

The two of you went upstairs and you got ready for bed, coming back from the bathroom in your pajamas. At the sight of these, Marshall burst out in laughter.

Seriously, Y/N ? Cats on your PJs ? He chortled.

They’re cute ! You argued.

They’re as terrible as your rapping skills. And believe me, that’s fucking saying something, he chuckled. These PJs are the least sexy thing I’ve ever seen on you.

Shut up, you pouted. What do you wear to bed ?

Usually, boxers. Or sweatpants, or nothing, he shrugged.

Now that is sexy, you giggled.

Get in bed, dumbass, he chortled. You’re so high, it’s hilarious.

Speaking of sexy, you added, I have your sexy jacket.

Right, he chuckled. Is it sexy though ?

You look sexy in it, you shrugged.

Do I, now ? He grinned.

Yes. Today’s leather jacket is sexy too, you giggled.

What should I wear for the photoshoot, then ? He mused.

Saint Laurent one, black jeans, black shoes, white tee-shirt for contrast, silver chains but not too big and lose the hat, you said after a few seconds of thought.

I should hire you as a stylist, he chuckled. You sure seem to have a lot of opinions on my clothes.

I’d be fucking glorious, you said.

How about you come and spend the day in New York with me next week ? He asked. You can be a glorious stylist, and you can even help me shop for new outfits.

Oh my god, that’d be so cooooool, you shrieked.

We’re doing that, then, he chuckled. Now, bed.

You got under the covers and he removed his clothes, staying in his boxers, before laying next to you.

Marshall ? You asked in a small voice.

Yes, Y/N ?

I’m glad you’re here. Thank you. And sorry again, you said.

I’m glad too, he whispered in your ear. I missed you.

You giggled and you fell asleep peacefully for the first time in a month.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers headcanons #recovery fanfiction

55 notes · View notes

ivorryskies · 7 months

Note

Armed detective agency x reader

Where the whole detective agency are on a vacation ,camping. In the place they are camping, there is a haunted house and somewhere in the house there is a statue. Obviously dazai decides that they explore the house in teams,the first team who finds the statue wins. So the reader is paired with dazai:3 you continue. (BTW reader and dazai are besties though dazai feels something for the reader that's not the concern tho.) the reader,she hates horrors^^

➼Authors note: Ofc I can! I love this idea and I started writing right away but I'm so devastated I wrote a whole fic of atleast 1k words :( and it discarded and I've been mourning over it. I'm so sorry it took long I have exams! I'm just really sad about the fic 😭💪🏻

➼Pairings: dazai x reader

➼Summary: an unexpected trip to a haunted house with dazai, turns into something out of a movie

YOU AND ME ALWAYS FOREVER

You and Dazai were unpacking necessities when you heard Yosano from beside you sigh tiredly and say "finally a well deserved break". "did we really have to come here out of all the places" Ranpo whined eating his donuts he insisted to bring. "i think camping is a nice idea! we can have smores!" you chirped. "speaking of smores about the fire Atsushi and Kyouka arent back yet with the wood. we need it to start the fire" Tanizaki said with Naomi on his arms. "i can go find some too!" Kenji said happily. As if on cue Atsushi and Kyouka both came running to the lot.

"Guys! we found a mysterious house which has a sign outside it has some statue carved on it with a question mark?" Atsushi said panting catching his breath when while Kyouka drops the wood off to tanizaki. "entertainment!" ranpo stood up happily as his donuts were finished. "we have a scheduled plan to stick to? And right now its time to set up a tent". "no~ Kunikida kun we should all explore the house who knows what we may find! maybe a cute lady again willing to kill herself too~?" dazai teased. "oh shut up" you groaned elbowing him. "atsushi what type of house is it?" you asked maybe some people still were living in it. " it wasnt new at all it was old and rotten, really big though and electricity and water had been cut off when me and Kyouka tried the lights at the enterance".

"its...a...haunted...house?" you said worried, swallowing a lump down your throat. "i doubt its haunted but yes its old" Atsushi said before trying to convince Kunikida. Dazai walked to you and said " 'name' are you scared~ you looked pale when he mentions haunted". you snapped back to reality and said " so what?! ive heard many stories that go about the same story and they do not end up well!" you said defensively. " im here with you after all, do you really have to be scared". you stared "i dunno youre unpredictable you'll proabably make it scarier" he laughed at that before everyone was led by atsushi to the house.

Ranpo and Dazai deduced that the sign meant they had to find a statue somewhere in the house and it could be valuable. Dazai suggested everyone split into teams of 2 and exclaimed "team who finds the statue first wins!!". The teams were, Ranpo and Kunikida, Naomi and Tanizaki, Yosano and Kenji, Atsushi and Kyouka and You and Dazai. Everyone and split up until no one was in sight, Dazai inquired that you guys start upstairs since its more likely to be there. There was no light, the only source of light you all had was a flashlight in Dazais hands. You were scared. You kept seeing things. You just felt like something touched you on you shoulder when you looked back to see Dazai holding a torch to his face "boo~" "AAH WHAT THE HELL?! DONT DO THAT!" you jabbed his arm and he laughed teasing you.

You both went into some sort of library and this house was HUGE, atleast 3 stories and really spacious with alot of rooms. Dazai was skimming through some books while you kept looking behind your back. That was when you saw something standing in the corner. You shook Dazais arm and he looked over to you "yes donna-" "is there something standing there..." you said paranoid and pale youre fingers began trembling. He shined the light there and there was nothing. "its nothing 'name' dont be scared im here~" you would have told him to shut up only if you werent so scared so Dazai sighed and held your hand before saying "the statue is on the 3rd floor corner room, its quite dark there so close your eyes, ill guide you through" he said actually serious.

You looked back at the corner you saw something at and then at Dazai and nodding shuddering. You shut your eyes and Dazai quickly led you through squeezing your hand reassuringly some times. Though it seemed Ranpo and Kunikida had the same idea when both of the teams reached the spot where the statue is. You were still holding his hand looking around when you felt something up your leg which made you jump. "donna you dont have any reason to be scared anymore were not alone~". you didnt care you just wnated to go back out. You couldnt take the creepy aura from the house and soon enough everyone gathered outside to tell about the statue and whatever else they found interesting. Like atsushi and Kyouka found an old piano.

Everyone was heading back to the camp site but you didnt realize Dazai was still holding your hand but slowly you stopped shaking and sighed "thank god we didnt die or you and me would always be forever if we got killed by a ghost!" he laughed at your comment and said " you sound it like its a bad thing" you looked at him dead pan and then shuddered, "just forget it this was enough terror for the day". He smiled he couldnt help but feel something, something he never felt, he liked it. he repeated "you and me...always forever..?"

#dazai x reader #bsd imagine #bsd #bsd scenarios #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs #armed detective agency #bsd x reader #dazai scenarios #dazai imagine #bsd dazai #bsd imagines #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

91 notes · View notes

slytherhys · 4 months

Text

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

You can also find this series on AO3 - as well as all my other stories.

8th day of christmas - gingerbread house

CW: Explicit Sexual Content

No Crying Over Spilled Icing (Elriel NSFW)

Elain eyed the gingerbread house in front of her with something akin to misery. Only twenty minutes ago, when she had first taken the dough out of the oven, she had been immensely proud of herself – it had been baked to perfection, neither too dry nor too moist, with a beautiful golden-brown colouring and a smell so sweet Elain had fought herself not to eat the whole thing in one go.

Buttercream had been used to make intricate, delicate patterns on what would be the walls, as well as cute little tiles for the rooftop. Candies, too, had been used aplenty. It had looked promising. Beautiful even.

But that had been before she had realised one of the walls was cut too short – something Elain hadn’t noticed until she started setting everything together – giving the house a sort of crooked, haunted look that made it resemble more a Halloween decoration than a Solstice treat. The icing, of course, hadn’t helped either. The walls barely stuck together, and the rooftop was slowly falling to its demise. Elain watched it all unfold, unblinking.

A great architect Elain did not make.

When she had first told Feyre she’d be bringing her own gingerbread house – and not one of those sets the bakery sold every Solstice – she hadn’t been expecting a building made of dessert to be so damn infuriating. She was set to leave in an hour and a half, and she doubted she had the needed time to try it all over again. She doubted she could find the will to do it in the first place.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice startled her, her eyes finally turning away from the baked mess in front of her.

“A gingerbread house.” If it could be called that. It definitely didn’t look like one.

Azriel tilted his head, eyeing the house with a stoical expression. “Are those the ones from the bakery downtown?” His eyes flickered to hers. “Cassian had mentioned how he wanted to try and build one.”

Elain huffed, suddenly affronted. “Of course not.” Maybe she should have though.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Right. Dumb question.” He narrowed his eyes, eyeing the eyesore with curiosity. “Why is it…slanted, though?”

“Well, first the icing melted,” She explained, hating the way her voice wavered. “And then the wall on the left was too short.” Azriel nodded along as if she was making perfect sense. “And it smelled really good, so I might’ve eaten one of the windows and now it looks weird.” She dropped her eyes again. “By the cauldron, it’s barely salvageable.”

“Why not just take the side of the roof that’s slipping away? It could probably stand, even if it’d be a little crooked.”

She bristled. “Then it’ll be a gingerbread box.” He gave no indication whatsoever that this information alarmed him. “Az, no one wants to eat a gingerbread box.”

Azriel smirked. As if it were funny. “Calm down, princess.” He looked at the mess in front of them, going around the counter so he could stand by her side. “We can fix this.” He said, and Elain watched from the corner of her eyes as he came to stand right behind her instead, his arms going around her as he reached for the gingerbread in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Why, helping you, of course.”

She highly doubted he was that innocent. His scent surrounded her, the heat from his body resting upon her skin as a gentle caress. It was all Elain could do to keep her eyes open, to follow his hands as he gently studied her creation. She could hear his steady breathing, quickly realising just how close he was to her. His lips were by her ear, his front pressing against her back every so often.

“Maybe we could do a tent instead?”

Elain frowned at the suggestion. It could work, even if it felt lazy to do so. She felt his hands on her hips, caressing her as she mumbled, “I suppose so.”

He seemed pleased by her quick acceptance, the feeling of his lips so faint against her skin, it was nearly unnoticeable. “Or just accept the defeat and do something else instead.”

Elain hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes, but at the sound of his lewd proposal, she snapped them open, promptly stepping closer to the counter and stepping away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer once again, pressing his nose against her neck, his lips a breath away from touching her fevered skin. “You smell good.”

Elain nearly whimpered “That’s just the gingerbread.”

He pressed his mouth against her shoulder, nibbling softly as if he couldn’t help but taste her. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

She turned around, ignoring her erratic breathing. “I still need to bake another batch-” She gasped as she felt his hands on her waist, raising her so she was sitting on the counter before she could finish her sentence. “Azriel, we don’t have enough time for that.” Truth be told, she was doing very little to push him away.

Azriel, of course, noticed that as well.

“I think we have more than enough time, princess.” He said, voice raspy as he stepped even closer. Elain wasn’t sure where her body ended and where his began, but as he kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, it felt like the most urgent thing that he stepped even closer.

Elain nearly whimpered as he pulled away, panting as he grabbed the hem of her skirts, pulling them up at an agonising speed.

Elain, however, wasn’t to be deterred. “Someone’s cocky.” She said, far too breathy for it to mean much.

He raised an eyebrow, scarred hands trailing up her legs. “Is that a challenge princess?”

Elain ignored the goosebumps raising all over her skin, ignored the craving that seemed to throb with her every heartbeat. “If you’re up for it.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” A smirk was all the warning she got before Azriel pressed his face between her legs. Elain cried out, mindless with want. Her legs quickly wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him closer to her at the first touch of his tongue against her center. She was vaguely aware of leaning back on her hands, accidentally spilling what remained of the icing on the counter.

She couldn’t bring herself to care – she reached for his hair with her other hand, moaning as he devoured her. He moaned her name against her core as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was a man starved, licking her, and fucking her with his tongue as if this was both the first and the last time he ever got to do this. The feeling of his large, scarred hands pulling her thighs apart, the scratch of his beard against her sensitive skin, it was all too much. Azriel had barely pushed a finger inside her before Elain was tumbling over the edge, his name on her lips as she bucked against his mouth over and over and over again.

“Sweetest fucking thing in the world.” He growled, more to himself than to her. He was panting, eyes dark as he took her in. She probably looked like a mess, panting, hands covered in icing, legs opened in a lewd display of her arousal. Elain felt herself blush under his scrutiny, but any embarrassment quickly faded as he took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers. “Turn around, princess.” He mumbled against her lips, helping her get down from the counter before lightly slapping her ass. “We’re on a schedule.”

Funnily enough, that was the furthest thing from her mind. Nothing mattered – not the party, not the spilled icing, not even the gingerbread house that had somehow ended up splattered on the kitchen floor. There was nothing but him. Not as he pushed inside her, his length stretching her as if it were their very first time together. Her every nerve-ending was on fire, her body craving him even as he filled her again and again. There were only the sounds he made as he rutted into her, the gentleness in his hands as he pulled her by her hair, the wantonness in the way he kissed her.

“You’re making such a mess, princess.” He panted against her ear, pulling down her corset, his hands quickly grabbing into her bare tits.

“Please.”

“Are you close?” Elain could do nothing but nod. He had barely pulled out of her when she was being turned around, her eyes quickly finding his as he pushed back inside in one swift move, as if he had never left. “I need to see you when you come.” And then he was wrapping her leg over his hip, filling her even deeper.

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, nibbling on the sensitive skin as his cock kept pounding into her. The feel of his mouth, of his cock… All Elain could do was scream out his name as she crashed, coming around his cock just as he spilled into her.

“Fuck.” He panted, hips still bucking against her.

Elain giggled, high on his touch. “Think I still have time to bake something?” She asked, shamelessly pressing her lips to his chest, his throat, his lips, taking them between her teeth and pulling gently. He hissed.

“Not if you keep doing that.” His gaze roved over her before finally settling on her eyes with a mischievous glint. “And I don’t think that gingerbread cake is salvageable anymore.”

Elain supposed not, but she wasn’t a quitter.

In no time – and with a lot of effort – Elain was kicking Azriel out of the kitchen, scrubbing every nook and cranny of the counter and busying herself with something else. Something quick that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Or so she had hoped.

“Where’s the gingerbread house?” Feyre asked only a few minutes later, eyeing the plain gingerbread cookies Elain had managed to bake in the measly thirty minutes she had been left with. Azriel, at Feyre’s question, gave Elain a heated stare, a smirk blooming on his lips as he casually strolled into the living room without a care in the world. Elain felt her cheeks heat up, pointedly ignoring her sister’s knowing smile. “Had a change of heart?”

Elain cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she made her way to the kitchen. “Sure,” she said. “let’s call it that.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #pro elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #christmas fic #gingerbread house #feyre archeron #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #christmas #happy solstice #christmas prompts #my writing

59 notes · View notes

satureja13 · 3 days

Text

(Poll below)

Jack logged out from his Therapy Game and he couldn't be happier. Tiny Can did a very good job. Though, he'll have to have a word with Tiny Can and the goats about that BL content. But maybe he's supposed to start a romance with Lou to forget about Kiyoshi?

Saiwa is so happy that Jack didn't feel the pain from his rash ingame :3 So it seems that the feelings from ingame do not effect their life here (like Vlad's ingame hunger) and the feelings and sensations from out of the game won't necessarily affect their characters ingame. Poor Vlad is torn. He's happy that Jack's therapy went so much better than his own playtest, but he's afraid to send Ji Ho in the game. What if he really is going to marry Caleb? But he can't be selfish. Ji Ho deserves his therapy. And if it helps Ji Ho, he will survive it too.

Jack: "So Sai, my friend. When will you go to your therapy?" Sai: "Uhm..." Saiwa is hesistant. He's their leader and should have been the first to check the Therapy Game and if it's safe for the others, but he's not ready yet to face his problems. And that's fine. The door to change can only be opened from the inside. (This quote is written on the wall at the front desk of my psychiatrist. Another one says 'Change needs time'.)

Jack: "I'm just kidding. I bet no one can stop Ji Ho from checking out now if he's really Caleb's bride! Right, Ji Ho?" Ji Ho laughs a bit nervous: "A haha, yes. Can't wait." Of course Ji Ho can't wait. Caleb is the dream of each of them (well, except Vlad's). But he also knows this will hurt Vlad.

Vlad has to leave to care for Jeb and Kiyoshi. They quickly charge the Bond and Vlad tries to let Ji Ho know through the Bond that he's ok with whatever happens in the Therapy Game. But he's not even fooling Diablo...

Ji Ho is torn. Is it really ok to hurt Vlad's feelings when it's necessary for his therapy and well being?

Ji Ho asked Jack and Sai what they would do. Jack thought about it too. But he does not have a partner right now so he's up for it should Lou hit on him. Saiwa agrees that Ji Ho should go for it. It's just a game after all and NPC Caleb is not the real Caleb. Nothing is real in the Therapy Game.

Jack: "So, it would be ok for you if Jeb had a boyfriend ingame?" Saiwa hisses and Jack realized that he went to far. Jack: "This isn't as easy a decision as it seems, huh."

It's time to go to bed. They are tired but Jack is still happily chatting about the game and they are glad it went so well for him. And even though they saw some scenes on the screen, they listen. It wasn't possible to watch everything anyway. Jack had been away for a few hours and they took turns to watch over him. And it's interesting to hear how it had been for Jack and how he experienced his Therapy Game.

If Ji Ho's therapy goes well too, Saiwa will try it. One day they will have to return back home to the others and he'd better be prepared to face Kiyoshi and Jeb again. He misses Jeb so much it hurts. But he has no idea how they are supposed to get over this fake realtionship he had with Kiyoshi. Even though they both agreed to it because they had no choice.

'May the ghosts that howled round the house at night Never keep you from your sleep May they all sleep tight down in hell tonight Or wherever they may be

As I walked on with a heavy heart then a stone danced on the tide And the song went on though the lights were gone And the North wind gently sighed

And an evening breeze coming from the East That kissed the riverside So I pray now child that you sleep tonight when you hear this lullaby

May the wind that blows from haunted graves never bring you misery May the angels bright watch you tonight And keep you while you sleep'

Lullaby of London - The Pogues (Such a beautiful song. Shane McGowan, the head of the Pogues, died November last year but he left us all his beautiful music. He was so gifted.)

Outtakes

A screenshot from the Therapy Game and a photo of Jack, 'The Pioneer' ^^'

Because no way we're having a normal meal where we all stay sit at the table and have a normal meal together -.-

From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

33 notes · View notes

riddles-n-games · 6 months

Text

Has anyone ever thought that maybe there are booby traps or hidden trapdoors in the secret tunnels of the Hawthorne House and that any unsuspecting Hawthorne brother may have gotten caught in them at some point? I believe that this would especially apply to our one and only Jameson Winchester Hawthorne who frequents them the most. Imagine Jamie's drunk, stumbles into one of the passageways because he's had a rough day (inferencing from Skye's conversation with Avery in the first book with how he used to get lost in those halls for long periods of time likely means they're his comfort spots) and he's in one that leads to the kitchen but then makes a wrong turn. There's a bit of buzzing in his head from the alcohol but a gut feeling is telling him he's going the wrong way, yet, he continues on anyway until he steps on a loose lock, triggering a trapdoor to open underneath him. He, of course, falls down into a room that he's never been in and straight up passes out only to end up staying there until the next evening around the time of the mandatory dinner that everyone has to show up to. Concluding that he's missing, his brothers set out on the hunt to find him.

Nash and Grayson are actively going through all his usual haunts, trying to locate him while Xander is trailing them with a camera in his hands, documenting the whole thing and throwing in over-the-top commentary as the unofficial narrator of the little documentary. When they finally get to the corridor that leads from Jamie's room to the kitchen, Nash spots the split in the hall and since they already checked the kitchen, he decides they should skip the typical route and check out that other way. Grayson tries to fight him on this but relents to Nash's brotherly instincts as the oldest of them and they go, Xander merrily following behind them.

To their surprise, they see a hole in the floor and rush to it only to find their very much asleep brother in the sunken space. Xan takes out his phone and starts to snap photos and neither of his older brothers stop him. Thankful that they found him, Nash jumps down and so does Grayson who searches for a light as Xander continues to film from above. Gray manages to find a switch and after getting over the initial brightness, also sees a way up again with a roll-down ladder so he unfolds it and climbs back up beside Xander to help Nash bring Jameson up. Meanwhile, Nash is trying to get a handle on his long and lanky brother who is just all sprawled out limbs so after a few minutes of wrestling him into a proper position, he pushes Jamie against the ladder for Grayson to start hauling him up. As he pulls him up by gripping under his shoulders, Nash is pushing Jameson’s legs up to get him out of there so he can come back up himself.

After all this nonsense, they manage to get into formation and carry him back down the passage to his bedroom and Xander is “helping” them by having a hand on one of Jameson's knees but more so focusing on recording the segment which leaves Gray a little frustrated as he has a handle on the feet. It takes a bit of maneuvering around to get to Jameson's room with Jameson himself but they are able to do it and set him on his bed. Nash checks out Jameson's head to make sure there aren't any signs of a concussion while Grayson searches around for an Advil and a spare water bottle. When all is fine and dandy, Xander has his fun by tucking Jameson in and pulling out an old teddy bear before he leaves. He proceeds to stay up the entire night to put together and edit his video.

The next morning, when Jamie finally regains consciousness post-hangover, he wakes to a text from Xan featuring an iMovie file. He opens it up to find it’s a mini documentary of his brothers making rounds around the House, going slightly insane as they tried to find him with Xander’s unnecessary narration in his sober opinion. Problem is, he realizes that the video isn’t in the one-on-one iMessage chat between him and Xander; his brother sent it to group chat with all four of them in it. He doesn't read the rest but when he does encounter any of his brothers the remainder of that day, they all give him a small smirk or amused shake of the head.

50 notes · View notes

callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 12: Not a hero ✍️📲

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Roos and Ash being cuties, mentions of Ash's accident, mentions of death, allusions of not wanting to be alive (just 1), Gina is now a warning of her own...

Important: This story is a sequel of Seeing Red, and there’s a lot of things you’ll miss if you don’t read that series first. Check Seeing Red! Masterlist on pinned.

I don’t tag people, follow @meigalibrary for notifications!

First, let me apologize for not being there for you for thirty years.

That was the first sentence Maverick said to you when you went to his house. Bradley went with you, because Jake had to go to work and Red was taking care of Liam, he offered to drive you to Mav’s.

He also needed to talk to him, either way. He’s the father.

It was a bit awkward at first, sitting in front of a guy who used to hook up with your mother. But he wasn’t a bad guy like you imagined. He is a very good man who continually apologized for not being part of your life. You know that if he had known about your existence, he would have been there.

And you think that maybe, with his help, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe you wouldn’t even be pregnant. Or maybe you’d have met Rooster before, fallen in love, and been married already. He’s a nice guy, and he’s hot, that can’t be denied.

Bradley Bradshaw is a lot different than Steve.

And you wish you'd met him sooner. Because as much as you liked him enough to have a one-night stand with Bradley, Steve was still in your mind, haunting you in every dream—or should you say nightmare? Things are still fresh in your memory, even if it’s been a year. Seems like no matter how far you run from the problem, it still haunts you. It will always haunt you.

“Ash?”

“Oh, sorry, were you saying something?” You look at him from the sofa you’ve been sitting on all morning. It’s been a few days since you moved with Bradley, and he’s been an absolute sweetheart. Cooked for you, helped you whenever you needed it, and he had been kind enough to lend you some of his clothes because you were definitely too big to keep using your own. Literally, the perfect guy.

And he looks at you with this hope in his eyes, like you being pregnant will somehow make you fall in love with him. But you can fall in love with someone when the memory of the last man you loved is still in your mind… and his sister hates your existence.

“I was saying that Jake has invited all of us to his house. You feel like going?” He says while handing you a glass of water.

“I mean, it’s my brother now. I have to.” You watch him as he sits down, moving your legs so they’re resting on his lap. “Do you want to go?”

“I’m always ready to hang out with my friends.” He caresses your leg, looking at your belly. “How are you feeling about being the new member of a big family?”

You chuckle, leaving the glass on the table. “It’s a bit overwhelming, you know? It’s always been me and my mom, but now I have a father, step-siblings, a step-mom, a sister-in-law that used to be my front seater and whose son is now my nephew, and she has another baby on the way!”

Bradley nods, tilting his head so that it’s resting on the back of the sofa. “Yeah, and a lot of crazy uncles and aunts for your babies.”

You kick his arm with your leg. “Our babies.”

He looks at you with the softest smile in the world, and something inside you feels warm. “Our babies. So… I wanted to talk about us.”

And here it is. “Okay, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I know you know I am interested in you. I like you, a whole lot.” He claims and there is no doubt in his mind. “But I know you don’t feel the same.”

“Bradley… How many times have we seen each other before I crashed Liam’s birthday party?"

“Four, I think.”

“We barely know each other. You don’t even know my last name.”

“It’s Simmons.”

“No, it’s- Wait, how do you know?” You frown.

“Saw your dog tags yesterday.” He waves it off, bringing you closer and almost sitting you on his lap. His hand moves to hold yours, the other one rests on your belly. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to worry about my feelings. You and the babies are the most important thing for me right now.”

“Thank you, Bradley. I know I could fall for you, you know. But things are already too complicated to try and see if we can work this out.” You explain feeling so absolutely horrible about this. “Just imagine that we try to be together, and we end up fighting or something, the only ones that will end up suffering here are the babies.”

He sighs, pushing your hair behind your ear. “I know. That’s why I said I don’t care about my feelings. It’s not about us anymore.”

“You’re really different than I thought you would be.” You giggle, watching his face morph into a shocked expression. He lets out an airy laugh, rolling his eyes. “Hey! Everyone thinks you’re an idiot, and I’m here praising you. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to thank you because you’re realizing how awesome I am?” He grins, raising an eyebrow.

You hit his shoulder before your phone lights up, a new message waiting for you to read it.

And this is why you really don’t want to have a relationship with Rooster. Because maybe, one day you’ll have to run away and leave him behind with the twins.

Gina won’t stop until you’ve paid for her brother’s death. Even if it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t do anything about it.

You never wanted the accident to happen. You never wanted everyone to change your call sign, to be reminded of that atrocious incident every time someone called you.

It got to the point where you wished you hadn't walked out of that plane without a scratch. Maybe if something had happened to you—maybe if you couldn’t walk anymore—everyone would have left you alone. You’re not a hero, you never wanted to be one. You’re just a survivor. And you have enough trauma as it is; you don’t need new call signs, pats on the back whenever you walk into a room, or curious eyes following you around trying to understand how a small, insignificant thing like you got out of such a horrible crash. Yeah, Gina said that.

Because Gina would never forget how you, her brother’s girlfriend, managed to survive when he couldn’t.

And she’s been sending these messages for almost a year now. You left the base soon after Red was offered a new position. You couldn’t bear the thought of Gina being your boss. Life was already insufferable enough as it was. You didn’t need her to make it worse.

But she, living up to her call sign, is determined to Nuke your life.

One way or another.

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #top gun #tasting the ashes

122 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Rekindled || Javier Peña x f!reader**

summary: back in Laredo, Javi’s past weighs heavily on him. luckily, a long lost love is there for him.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of religion, loss and depression, alcohol and smoking; piv, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, doggy (what can I say, sad slut Javi needs some comfort). song inspo.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @skyshipper

read on AO3

The air is thick with heat, sweat and long lost memories. Some better than others. Not a single breeze rushes through the air. It’s all still, almost as if dead.

In all honesty, Laredo is both comforting and haunted.

Can’t be any worse than Colombia though, Javier thinks fleetingly as he tosses and turns in his bed. The heat is holding him in a chokehold, but you think he’d be used to it after facing years of it both here and in the drug paradise. But there’s a certain sadness attached to his hometown.

The looks people throw him, the smiles, the soul-aching melancholy that creeps its way into his heart each time he sets foot back home, they’re all making him feel even more disappointed with the outcome of his so-called career.

Home, he scoffs and stands to the side of the bed, his head in his hands. It’s been far too long since he last thought of a place as his home. Laredo is, now more than ever before, a dusty memory at the bottom of a box filled with many more of the same kind.

People here view him as a hero. Javier, on the other hand, feels like a failure. Yet he still shakes the hands of those who reach out to him to thank him, still offers a faint smile in their direction that fades into regret not a second later. He’s glad he can at least help his father though. He’s not getting younger, and the ranch needs a lot of work. That is now his sole satisfaction.

Okay, perhaps not the sole one.

He remembers your face vividly, like it is permanently tattooed on his brain. You were never exclusive; there was never any definition attached to your relationship and truly, there never seemed to be enough time. You were two acquaintances finding occasional solace in each other’s arms. Bodies entangled together, creating the only safe space either one of you ever knew, bringing pleasure to the other.

You’ve known each other for a long time. You were barely teenagers when your connection blossomed. Time split you apart, threw you in completely different directions and yet, whenever Javier made his back to Laredo, he subsequently made his way back to you.

He is a special part of you. That you would deny to no one should they ask, not even to yourself. Always has been, always will be. But you know him better than to admit to some childish feelings that could imprison you both to a lifetime of misery, or unwanted responsibilities. Things tend to work like that in this silly town: traditional, ancient, and you and Javier were either of those things. Each time you saw each other it felt like the first time, and there never seemed to be enough time to give in to each other.

But you do care for him, just as much as he cares for you. He needn’t say it or even show it in some way. You feel it.

Sometimes enough for you both.

It’s a little over midnight as he’s arriving to your house through Laredo’s heat in that rusty old truck he claims to hate, but that he can’t rid himself of. All he can hope to do is have a smoke, a conversation and maybe even a little taste of you, just a singular taste, then he can go to bed.

Except it’s never just one taste when it comes to you. And certainly not little.

It’s hard to explain. You’re… familiar, soft and comfortable. You understand, you reciprocate and you care. And it’s the best Javier could ever ask for.

He cares, too. Too much for his own good. So it’s far easier to conceal it underneath a thick cloud of nicotine and waves of liquor and carnal pleasure.

He parks a little further down the road so as to not stand out with that truck, and takes a deep breath. There is a faint light coming from your house, much to his relief. He wouldn’t want to wake you up just for his usual shenanigans. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting out of tonight or what he needs. He just needs to see you, to be with you, however that may be.

Usually confident with the opposite gender, you somehow render him speechless. A devilish trick, he likes to say and watch you chuckle with a je ne sais quoi that makes his heart tremble each time without fail.

Maybe he cares for you even more than he himself knows.

He musters the courage to knock on the door, pack of cigarettes already in his hand. He still plans to quit. Just… not tonight.

“Hi,” you greet him with a reassuring smile.

Javier releases a long breath, his gaze locked in a trance on you. Your hair is loose, combed and luscious as ever, and you’re wearing a silk robe that makes him swallow—hard. Unsurprisingly, the sight makes him a little hard, too, but he pushes it out of his mind. He hasn’t seen you in a few weeks by this point and it feels simultaneously like an eternity had passed and that it was like yesterday.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

One look in his chocolate, warm eyes that gape at you like a lost puppy and you are ready to surrender everything.

You make sure to close the door behind you, noticing that Javier steps aside to let you first. You diligently guide him to the living room, where you had been reading for the past hour, hoping to fall asleep.

Yet sleep eluded you, now more than before.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you ask.

“Too fucking hot,” he says, already lighting his cigarette. “Too many… thoughts.”

“Was one of them me?”

“It always is.”

You smile at him and extend your own cigarette at him. “My lighter died,” you explain.

Sometimes you enjoy talking to Javier. There is plenty to be said and he is a remarkably smart man. But you have the feeling that right now, wrapped in the smell of nicotine, isn’t one of those times.

“You remembered to park closer to the trees, right?”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you.

It’s not that either one of you cares about those folks commenting on your whereabouts, but you really didn’t need to be the town’s hot gossip, especially when Javier’s reputation had never been better.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Javier takes a long drag out of the cigarette before releasing the smoke and answering you.

“Life.”

“And I was worried you’d be vague.”

He looks out the window for a while, and you know not to push for more.

You know all the insignificant things about him that make up his puzzle-like persona: how he likes his coffee, his go-to breakfast, his favorite cigarettes and whiskey, as well as his favorite past times. But you also know the big, ugly truths: the heartbreak, the pain, the anger and the disappointment, the lost hope… you suppose you know him inside out.

But you could never say with certainty what he is. He’s merely a friendly face. You don’t dare think more. He’s there when you need him, and you are there when he needs you. That matters more than anything else.

“Everyone thinks I’m some sort of hero,” he says after a while.

“According to what I hear, you are.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like a fucking failure.”

You observe him quietly, steadily, like he’s your biggest and dirtiest secret. In a lot of ways, you suppose he is. Right now, you only see a disappointed man who is searching for a purpose, for more answers. He was always the kind of man who needed to know everything. He could never let things without definition.

Which is surprising considering that neither of you labeled this, what you were doing. Certainly more than friends with benefits if it were up to you, but who could say what was truly going on inside his head?

“You made it out of this town,” you remind him. “I call that a win.”

“I’m right back to square one.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you want to stay in this shithole forever.”

Javier chuckles softly, trying his hardest not to remark the way your robe is sliding up your leg and teasingly exposing your thigh to him in the golden, dim light.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “It’s a pretty bleak future ahead right now.”

“Have you been praying?”

You know the answer to this one, so the question is, technically, redundant. He’s never really been a believer, but he didn’t fight against it either. He sort of let the idea float in the air.

But there was a time in his life when he prayed. Day and night he desperately prayed for his mother, breaking your heart little by little. One day, Javier stopped simply wishing for good things. The day his mother was gone, he stopped. His hope began to fade away, but he never fully cast it away. He rather put it in the same box of old things he longed to forget about.

“For what?” he asks, slightly irritated by the notion and crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. “For justice? For a better tomorrow?”

You shrug. “Just because.”

Instead, Javier scowls. “Without any purpose, reason? ‘Just because’?”

“Not everything needs a reason, Javi.”

He doesn’t fight you on it. He simply looks at you, his eyes sneaking the occasional glance at your thigh, and gulps. His head is spinning, the room is much hotter all of a sudden.

“We need reasons to go on, don’t we?”

His voice is breaking in the slightest, and it makes your heart ache so.

“Some of the best things in life don’t have a reason behind them,” you try to reassure him.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Do you think people fall in love for a reason?”

A tricky question, but Javier is smart, and deep down he knows why you ask.

“No,” he responds. “I think it just happens.”

“See? A lot of good things happen without reason.”

“Alright. No argument there.”

You hide your smile as you finish the last of your cigarette. Some of his Texan accent slips in and it charms you as it always does. You rise from the armchair, headed for the kitchen. Javier follows, his eyes hungry and darkened. You pretend you don’t notice for the sake of the game because you know where things are inevitably headed.

What you don’t know is how things will progress.

“Whiskey?” you offer, and he instantly nods.

It’s his favorite, and one of your personal favorites too. You know it warms him up and makes his blood boil in his veins to the point where he craves a way to release all the tension.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” he asks.

How bold of him, you chuckle to yourself. If you play the cards right, you could offer a smooth answer that might tickle his curiosity. Why give the best away?

But again, Javier is smart. As everything has a reason for him, this question has its intentions laid out before you as well, only concealed in a very innocent manner. Maybe he craves to hear something flattering, something that would soothe his nerves and erase his melancholy and inner conflict, but he isn’t sure how to go about it.

“Maybe,” you reply with a coy smile.

Javier chugs his whiskey, placing the glass on the counter and approaching you with the same hungry eyes.

“Thirsty, are we?”

Javier shrugs, moistening his lips. “You don’t know the half of it.”

The smile on your lips stays longer this time, paired with flattery and heat from the drink you also chug. With Javier, you always need a little preparation to keep yourself calm.

“Have you ever been in love, Javier?”

“Once or twice.”

“Better than most.”

He’s so close to your face now that his warm, whiskey and nicotine-infused breath is tickling your nose. You stare at him, waiting and pleading for more, an insatiable hunger nesting in your belly.

And the key to its ignition is right before you.

One of his large hands goes around your waist to pull you in, the feeling of skin on silk maddening enough. He looked you over from head to toe, slowly undressing you of your robe. He lets it slide down your shoulders and draws in a quick, sharp breath upon seeing your silky nightgown.

“You could easily kill me one day, cariño,” he whispers as if in disbelief.

There it is. That little pet name that burned your whole being by simply being spoken in his husky voice.

“Honey, I wouldn’t dream of that,” you reassure him and caress his stubbly cheek.

His lips are on yours in an instant, hands rubbing your sides tenderly. You feel the tension in the way he kisses you, how it resides in his whole body in spite of his efforts to seek relief. You sigh brokenly as his lips travel to your neck and he pushes you into the granite counter, spreading your legs to make room for him to grind in between them.

The throbbing in your cunt weeps and aches and you squirm in his strong arms, your hunger only increasing.

“Javi—“

He licks a spot on your neck that triggers a moan out of you and spurs him on. You need this as much as he does, and you figure whatever crisis he’s going through, you can at least provide some physical comfort to him.

He spreads your legs further and lifts your nightgown enough to expose your pretty pussy, and suddenly you throb even more.

“Commando, huh?” he teases. “Were you waiting for me, by any chance?”

“You know I always do.”

He lowers himself to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, working his way up to your pussy, giving a tentative lick from your overly sensitive bud all the way down. You moan and reach for his hair, tugging with desire.

“Javi—“

He starts working against your clit, a wet and rather loud pop of his lips on your soaked ones. You feel a smile breaking from his lips along with the faint tickle of his stubble and you smile in pure bliss already.

“Easy, cariño,” he tells you in between wet kisses. “I got you.”

You can only moan at this point, and then he starts to really eat you out.

With Javier, everything’s a mission; he leaves nothing to his broken faith, so he seeks to do what he knows he’s good at. Obscene slurps emerge from in between your legs, with Javier’s face utterly buried there. It was far better than whatever late night snack you might’ve planned to have, and the same could be said about Javier.

Fast paces breaths leave your throat as Javier’s tongue dips in and out of you, up and down and in any possible way he can think of. The sounds emerging from you work as a terrific stimulant for him, so he dares add a finger to his ministration, starting to stretch you out. You moan louder, much to his delight.

“You don’t want the whole town to hear us, do you, cariño?” he asks sweetly.

“I don’t care—I don’t care—oh, fuck—“

He adds a second finger, carefully stretching you out and listening to your sounds to make sure you’re okay. When he sees your head thrown backwards and feels your hand tugging his hair tighter, he smiles. Son of a bitch actually smiles, knowing he’s doing the right thing in getting you nice and wet for him.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace, growing harder with each passing second, but so desperate to feel you cum that he’s close to spilling himself in his jeans, like a pathetic fucking teenager.

“You’re doing so good, cariño,” he encourages you. “So good… do you want to cum on my fingers? Hm?”

“Yes—yes, please, I do—“

You’re running out of breath already as you’re moving your hips forward to meet with more of his head.

“Can you make it a good one for me?”

“Mhm—“

“Go on. Fuck yourself on my hand.”

You do just that; you rock your hips to the best of your abilities to meet his fingers pumping in and out of you for a few more seconds till you come with a muffled cry of his name, almost ripping his hair out from how hard you’re tugging.

Your whole body is flushed with his presence and the aftermath of that climax. Javier’s fingers leave your swollen cunt and, just as he meets your eyes, he takes them to his mouth and thoroughly sucks on them, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You taste so fucking good,” he tells you.

“Javi.”

“Yes?”

“Would you please fuck me already?”

He giggles, a childish, playful sound that brings happiness to you.

“If you ask so nicely,” he teases.

“You’re the one who came to me.”

“Guilty as charged.”

You bite your lower lip, getting down from the counter. One of the best things about sex with Javier is that, no matter how sweet and romantic or rough and needy, it always leaves you feeling dirty. The feeling lingered.

He unexpectedly picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, making sure to turn off the light on your way there. After all, you wouldn’t want anyone drawing the wrong conclusions if they saw that old truck parked there and a light inside the house.

Then again, hiding is one of your fortes.

The only light now is the moon breaking through the glass windows, and it’s more than enough. You fall underneath him on the bed, the slickness of your cunt growing to be almost uncomfortable. Your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord, making his mission of undressing more difficult. You feel him hard against your stomach and you shudder.

“You feel that?” he asks from the crook of your neck. “You feel—how hard you get me? Every—fucking time.”

“You know how to flatter your women.”

He lifts his head, a few stranded locks of hair bouncing from his forehead as he looks down on you. “There’s no women, plural. It’s only you.”

You hold your breath, begging your mouth and your heart to not accidentally spill something that might drive him away.

So you struggle to pull the nightgown over your head, but Javier stops you. Instead, he breaks from you only to remove his jeans and underwear. Looks like he’s going for practical and needy tonight.

He smells of alcohol and cigarettes and cologne, as per usual, but he also smells like… him. Your unspoken safe haven wrapped up in a musky, earthly scent.

Javier takes himself in hand, giving himself a few preparatory strokes under your studious eyes. He can tell you’re enjoying the show, maybe as much as he does, but it hurts to touch himself like this. It hurts when you’re right there, legs spread and your pretty pussy glistening for him, waiting.

Finally he guides himself to your entrance, his weeping tip barely touching your soaked lips, and he moans.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Fuck, I could cum right now like this…”

“That’s fine.”

“N-No, I need—I need to feel you—from inside out.”

You both gasp as his cock pushes past your soaked lips, slowly filling you up to the brim, just the way you both liked it. One hand goes around his neck to pull him down for a hasty kiss as he gives a first thrust.

“Oh God,” you moan.

“He’s not here right now. Only me.”

“Only you.”

It’s your reassurance to him that, indeed, there is no one else for you. Come to think of it, you’re not sure there ever was anyone else. Your mind and body carry all of his touches, all of his kisses and warm breaths.

He starts moving, and it’s not rough or fast because of the lack of time. Not tonight. It’s intimate and passionate, but deep enough for you to feel every single thing. He’s throbbing wet right there inside of you, each sharp snap of his hips bringing you closer to nirvana. Your moans get mixed up, coming out as a singular shaky one. He’s kissing you messily as his hips fall apart into yours, your bodies rocking against one another.

You feel so full, so heavy and cared for that the burn in your lower belly arrives faster than you might’ve anticipated.

“J-Javi—Javi, I think I’m—“

“Yes—yes, that’s it. Cum all over me, that’s right—you’re doing so good, cariño.”

“Fuck, I’m so—close—“

“Cum on me, give it all to me… you got this, you’re so good—so fucking good and perfect—and warm—“

And mine.

But he doesn’t finish that thought out loud. He’s too afraid to say it, even after all that time, and even with you.

You’re both as loud as you can be by that point, and it doesn’t help that the window is open. But you can’t help it. There’s nothing in the world that could stop you from reaching that high.

You start to clench around him, and unbeknownst to you, Javier smiles like a madman. This is the best feeling in the world, being sheathed inside of you like he’s part of you. He starts to feel the thrill of his own climax fast approaching and he fucks into you faster. The only sounds are ragged breaths, the nearly violent slap of skin on skin and the endless stream of yes, yes, yes coming from you.

You cry his name when you cum, nails digging into his still clothed back as his cock twitches inside of you, shooting his burning hot seed as deep as he can. You gush hot and wet around him and so does he. It’s a concoction of bodily fluids, quick breaths and sweet nothings whispered to each other. Sweat breaks down the navel of his back, his neck and temples, and he feels like he’s about to explode.

How the fuck is he still half hard? What kind of witchcraft are you pulling on him?

He doesn’t pull out. He’s barely moving, but he stays there. He’s afraid to even leave you. What would he be without you? He’s not sure. But maybe he’s not that broken when he’s around you.

“Still not enough?” you ask cheekily.

Ever the insatiable man, Javier. He smiles kinda shyly, like he doesn’t want to ask for anything more.

“Then let me take care of you,” you propose when he fails to talk.

“No, I—want to be inside of you.”

“That’s… where you are.”

“Need more.”

“So take whatever you want.”

“Can I?”

You nod, and his tongue moistens his bottom lip. You sure knew your way around him. It always went back to just how well you got him, how much you knew every scar, every navel and ridge of his body, every quirk of his.

He pulls out, grabbing your hips with strength and care alike as he turns you around. He gives your ass a big squeeze, followed by a few playful slaps, and again you shudder. He always molds the skin of your body like it’s playdough, kneading it between his calloused fingers with ease.

You moan out loud when he starts fucking into you again, this time from behind. His thrusts are no longer controlled; you gave him full control so he takes exactly what you give him. He’s downright railing you, his hands holding onto your hips as he reaches to the deepest part of you. You moan and grunt, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

“So—fucking good – “Javier mutters. “Fucking—perfect.”

He’s chasing his own high, selfishly so, and there’s something terribly hot about that. Even more so considering that he had asked for your permission. It was a lethal mixture, really, the sweet side of him that not many got to see, and the insatiable man who went after what he wanted.

There’s not much else said; soon, Javier’s haste is rewarded when his climax hits again, unexpectedly prompting yours. Surprised, Javier snaps his hips as fast as he possibly can in order to help you both, knocking all the air out of your lungs—and his, subsequently.

“You like this? You like—feeling me get so—fucking hard for you, all the time… and fucking you like this?”

“Y-Yes, Javi—“

He slows down, his hands arching your body all the way up so he can pepper messy kisses on your face, his cock still twitching inside of you, barely settling down. Your cheek is a little salty on account of your ragged, happy cry from your third climax. You feel him everywhere, in your whole body.

Then you both lay there, underneath the moonlight, with your needs sated, your head on his chest. Your mind resumes its furious pacing, but you don’t give it full control.

“You’re the best thing I have, you know that?”

Javier’s confession comes out of the blue and it almost shocks you. Although in retrospect, it probably shouldn’t. It’s not like you don’t know you each feel strongly about the other. It’s just never been verbalized.

And perhaps that was for the best.

“You got your family,” you remind him. “And don’t say something about me being family too because that would soil what we just did.”

He chuckles, moving a little so he can take a better look at you. His thumb sweeps across your cheek, then his lips find it and press a chaste kiss on the same spot.

“I don’t know if I believe in any mightier deity, but when I’m with you… pretty sure this is heaven.”

You smile, somewhat melancholic yourself. “Don’t try to butter me up.”

“If anything, I’d try to either liquor you up or spread some melted chocolate on you.”

“Ah, but you forget we did that one time.”

“Oh, right. Vegas.”

You both chuckle, with Javier pulling you in closer, wrapping his arms around you. He can feel your heartbeat as you rest against him, fast still, and he smiles, kissing on your forehead.

He might’ve not been religious, but you must’ve been some sort of angel who looks out for him in the best way she can.

And right now, that’s enough.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

866 notes · View notes

assortedseaglass · 1 year

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Eight

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, injury detail, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 5.8K

Note: It’s a long chapter! The last one got a lot of love that I wasn’t expecting, so thank you! If anyone has any suggestions or things they’d like to see happen, give me a message!

December 1939

Dear Tom,

You’ll notice there’s no photograph enclosed. There are numerous reasons. 1. The last person a group of lonely sailors want to look at is serious old me, 2. We can barely afford our groceries, let alone a trip to the picture parlour, 3. I have some self-respect and shan’t be “oiling myself up”. Besides, I’m sure you all got plenty of entertainment on shore leave, though what makes you think I have any interest in your exploits I don’t know, seeing as I never have before.

How was shore leave? Did you have much time to relax? And answer properly this time! I hope for Norman and Terry’s sake, you were gentle with them! And you’re right, Norman sounds like a bit of stuff for Dot. Now Cora has Roger, maybe I could have Vic? When are you bringing him to Longsight? Is he handsome?

It’s a dreadful thing to say, but sometimes I envy you. Out there, seeing the world. At night, when I’m thinking of you and Albie, I dream that I have the cold wind and salt spray on my face. Tell me what it’s like. Has this been the making of you?

We found out yesterday that Albie will be back for Christmas. Dadda and Dot are beside themselves. Cora and I, of course, can’t wait to have him home but the three weeks between now and Christmas seem like such a long time for so much to happen. I shan’t be happy until he steps through the door.

I must admit, Dot has been insufferable recently. She was eighteen on Sunday and has taken her official arrival into adulthood rather too seriously. She has an opinion on everything, though sadly I think it’s what she has heard some of the older women spouting at the factory. She’s becoming such a snob – no one can do any right in her eyes. Nothing is “proper” or “civil”. We had hoped the war would give her a dose of reality but it seems to have done quite the opposite. Dadda’s drinking is getting worse again, though he isn’t as angry as he used to be. Sometimes I wish he’d shout at us, at least it would show someone is living in there. Now, he’s like a ghost, wafting between the house, the dockyard and occasionally the pub with your dad.

Speaking of, your dad said he’d written to you recently. I don’t know if he mentioned it, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with him. You know I’ve always likes the quiet, and your dad might just be the quietest man in Longsight. It all started when Walter Watson tried having a go at him for giving out the Peace Paper. Well, your dad didn’t back down and Walter Watson went on his way. You should give your dad more credit. I know you don’t always see eye to eye but you’re more alike than you think (stubborn). Anyway, since then we’ve been handing out the Peace Paper together outside the factory, and he gives me a lift home on the bike. He loves you so much, Tom. Sometimes, I catch him through the window doing nothing but sitting by the wireless. I miss mam and Albie, but at least I have Cora, Dot and dadda. He’s haunted by all this love he has nowhere to place.

They’ve moved me onto making the Lancasters at the factory. I don’t know if you’ll have seen them, they’re mostly flying over Europe. Enormous things, they are. The foreman had us line up on one of the wings to see how many it would fit. Almost thirty of us! I’m enjoying the work, but I can’t help but feel so detached from the war. I never see the work we do in action, and I think of you and Albie, even Lois, out there and feel like such a fraud. They’re advertising nurses training at Manchester Royal and I thought I might apply. What do you think? Maybe it’s spending all this time with your dad – I so admire Cora and Dot and Roberta, but I want to be patching people up, not making the things that hurt them in the first place.

Speaking of the girls, Hattie and Jude are back this weekend so we’re going dancing with Roberta, C and D. Can you believe it, Hattie has a fella! A young farmer she met in the Land Army. Glen, he’s called. I don’t think she’s bringing him with her, her mam would have an apoplexy. We’ll have to make do with the few men we’ve got and each other. Speaking of which, since when did you get so defensive of Queenie Warren? Last I remembered you were avoiding dances and saying she’d go for “anything with a pulse”. You know I’d never say anything to her face, but you and I were always in the same mind about her. Cora always saw far too much good in her, Dot far too much bad. You and I saw the real Queenie. Charmingly nonsensical.

I miss having someone to confide in. I sometimes thought you and Albie were the only people that understood me. I wonder how you and I got to talking and why we never do anything in the day. Just sit in our kitchen at night and chatter. Are we friends? Or just two people whose lives correspond? I hope we’re friends, Tom. I know you aren’t one for sentimentality, and I’m silent as the grave but, as I said in my last, letters seem to be my medium. Every thought I’ve ever had comes pouring out with ease. Believe it or not, I can’t wait until you come into the kitchen at witching hour and sit with me while I sew or play piano. It’ll mean the world has gone back to normal. Please take care, for me, and God bless.

Your friend,

Bess.

Tom finished reading the letter that had come with the latest resupply from the auxiliary vessel. From the netting that hung above his bunk, he grabbed pen and paper.

“Can’t keep your sweetheart waiting.” A low voice teased from the opposite bed. Tom balled up a piece of paper and threw it at Vic, who smirked and shut his eyes. They were on shift in less than an hour, enough time for him to get some rest and Tom to reply to the letter. He lay it next to a fresh piece of paper and began to write.

Dear Bess,

I was glad to get your letter but sorry to see no photograph inside. I’ve told the lads all about the dark haired Vaughn girl and they’d love to get a look at you. You know you’re gorgeous -

Fuck. Did he really just write that? Well, no going back now.

You know you’re gorgeous - I saw those men clambering to dance with you before I left. And you had Walter Watson and Frank Smith fighting over who got to dance with you first. Lucky girl.

Tom looked back to the letter Bess had written him. “What makes you think I have any interest in your exploits I don’t know, seeing as I never have before.” He blanched with embarrassment.

Shore leave was fine, though Port Stanley isn’t much. Picked up a lovely bird while I was there. A real one. Bright yellow, she is. Called her Vera. Norman and I are taking bets on when she’s going to lay an egg. And I know you’re already thinking that I’ve swindled the lads out of pocket by buying a male, but she really does lay eggs. First one came just as we left Port Stanley. I think Norman and Terry enjoyed shore leave more, though Terry nearly lost his stomach next morning. Tell Dot I’ve got a fella for her, and that I’m keeping him safe.

He looked at her letter again. “Maybe I could have Vic? When are you bringing him to Longsight? Is he handsome?” Soft snores came from Vic’s bunk, and Tom observed him from the corner of his eye. He was handsome, Tom supposed. Tall, bonny face. Hatred bloomed momentarily in his stomach.

Vic is handsome, I’d say. But you’d make a boring couple, you’re both too serious.

Funny that you envy us, Bess. I envy you. What I’d give to be tucked up in bed, smelling a fresh pot of coffee and bacon from downstairs. Cook keeps us well fed, but it looks like slop. On my down shifts, I’ve taken to standing on the stern and watching the horizon. Sometimes it feels like if I just stood on my toes, I’d see you all on the other side. Stood there, cold wind and water washing over my face, is the smallest I’ve ever felt. Was always scared of that before. I wanted to feel big but out there, my insignificance is calming. Does that make sense? Certainly makes me less scared of dying. I’m just one bloke. How about, when this is all over, I take you on a cruise? That way you can see what it’s like for yourself. Bet you’d love to make yourself dresses and suits for sailing. Like Bette Davis or Marlene Dietrich.

I’m sorry Dot is giving you grief, and tell her I’m sorry for forgetting her birthday. She’ll grow out of it soon. She’d better or she’ll have you and Cora to answer to. And crikey, Bess, the list of people I’m going to have to sort out for you is getting longer by the day. I know you said you wished your dad would shout at you, just so he seems human, but you and I both know what he gets like. He’s not himself when he’s drinking and if he lays a finger on you I’ll be back from the navy quicker than you can say Hitler’s Only Got One Ball. Think you should release him back into my Dad’s care, that way someone can keep an eye on his drinking and it doesn’t have to be you.

Dad did indeed tell me that you’ve been spending time together. I don’t think much of your taste in men. Will I be calling you “mum” soon? From what he told me, it sounds more like you were the one to send Walter Watson packing. Thank you, for spending time with him. When I’m home, I can’t bear to spend more than an hour with him but when I’m away, I worry. Lois always knew how to handle him, handle both of us.

I know you won’t believe it, but I’m glad Hattie has a fella. It means the rest of us won’t have to put up with her appalling dancing. Seems like everyone is getting paired up. Hattie and her farmer. Queenie and Frank Smith, if that’s still happening. Cora and Roger. Your Dot and my Norman. We’ll be the only ones left. Though, by the time I get back, you might be in training and I’ll be on my tod. I can imagine you as a nurse. Just seeing you would make the fellas’ day but heaven forbid they try anything. Not if you treat them like you did Walter Watson. I think it would suit you. And it’d be good for you to get away from Longsight. I know it’d only be a few miles, but you could have your own life there. You loved it at the tailors, and this might give you some of that life back.

I’d miss you though. I do miss you.

Tom paused his writing and stretched is hand.

I hate that you question our friendship. You’re the only person that treats me right. Dad and Lois think I’m a lost cause. Maybe I am. But I never feel that way with you. Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I imagine I’m sat in your dad’s armchair listening to you play the piano. It became such a routine that I think I find it hard to sleep now without it.

The auxiliary boat is leaving soon so I best give them this letter. I’m sending with it all my care for you and your sisters. Give Dot a birthday kiss from me and tell her that when I’m back I’ll take her for a dance.

Don’t worry about me,

Tom.

He jumped from his bunk, straightened his uniform, donned his cap and grabbed Vera’s cage. On deck, Campbell was bidding farewell to the auxiliary ship’s captain.

“One for the post!” Tom called.

“Cutting it fine, Bennett,” Campbell said, but allowed Tom to hand over his letter and ignored the birdcage. “Shift in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Once the letter was sailing towards Bess, Tom made his aways along the various decks rattling the coin purse in his pocket. “Time and date she lays an egg,” he called to his fellow sailors, holding up the little birdcage. Somewhere, along the way, kind and gentle Norman joined him. Below deck, Terry was tapping away at the wireless operations table.

“Y’alright Terry? Name the day, name the time Vera lays an egg. Nearest time wins, threepence a bet.” Tom said, leaning against the doorframe as Norman handed over the betting book. Terry removed his headphones and scribbled down his prediction, turning it to the little yellow bird.

“Today, eleven-hundred hours.”

“Hey,” Tom interjected. “No coaching. Good lad, Terry.” The boys moved to the mess hall, and Tom made a beeline for Vic, now awake and ready to start his shift. Tom rattled the money purse at him while Norman took more bets.

“Time and day she lays an egg,”

“Sure it’s a girl?” Vic scoffed.

“She laid an egg at Port Stanley,” Tom quipped back.

“Bet she looked surprised,”

“I wouldn’t know what a surprised bird looks like,”

“Find that hard to believe!” Vic said good-naturedly. Tom turned to look at the room, a roguish smile on his face. His eyes landed on the man leant against the deck frame.

“Ginger?” Tom shook the coins. The man turned, barely looking at Tom until he came near level to his face. Mistrust was written across his pale features.

“Why would I want to line your dirty Manc pockets?” Men sat up in their hammocks and stooped in the doorway. The whole room stilled to watch the men square up.

“Dunno,” Tom smirked. “Maybe you’re saving up for a whore in Argentina.” A few people sniggered.

“Alright Tom, simmer down,” Vic spoke over his shoulder. “He gets over excited, Henry.”

The ginger man took no notice, but averted his attention to Norman, who laughed next to Tom.

“You laughing at me lad?”

Norman stopped immediately, eyes shifting from Henry to Tom.

“No, Henry.”

“No, sir.” Henry asserted.

Tom could feel his piss curdling. Fucking prick.

“Don’t have to call you “sir” now, does he? Same rank.” He leant to Norman. “Don’t call him sir, Norman.” There was a long pause while Tom surveyed the room and everyone waited for Norman to speak. Henry got there first.

“No, sir.”

“No, sir.” Norman said softly to the ground. Tom nodded. Of course. Before Henry moved away, he looked Tom in the eye, smug that he had won the altercation.

“’SIR’” Tom said cruelly in Norman’s face. The quieter man went pale.

“Come on, Tom,” Vic warned. “Play nice.”

Every atom in Tom’s body was starting to thrum. Two months he’d been at war without so much as a sniff of a fight, and here Henry was kindly offering up his services. Tom straightened his shoulders and squared his jaw. He felt like a prize fighter, ready for the first punch. Vic watched his friend’s nostrils flare and knew what was coming. Tom turned lazily on the spot and watched Henry walking away. Cocky git can’t get away with it that easily.

“You’re lucky you get called Henry.” Men around them hissed with expectation, and he heard Vic issue another warning. Henry immediately prowled back towards him.

“So what is it you’d like to call me?” His tone was calm but his posture was anything but, fists balled and face looking up at Tom’s jutting jaw. Norman edged closer to Vic.

“Spoilt for choice really.” The circle of men was closing in, anticipation wending through the air. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be a word a mother would use. Although,” Tom sniffed and looked the smaller man up and down. Here came the first blow. “Your mother might.”

For a moment, it looked as though nothing would happen. For a moment.

Henry slammed Tom into the store cupboard and Vic jumped in front of him.

“You want some!? You FUCKING WANT-”

CRACK

Henry’s fist made contact with Tom’s jaw before he had time to finish his sentence. No sooner had Tom hit the ground was he trying to get up again, grappling with the many hands attempting to restrain him. Henry walked away, shoulders hunched in frustration.

“OI! Take your hands off me!” Tom shouted, straining to be unleashed.

“Stay down!” Vic shouted. “THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Tom checked his nose for blood and smirked at Vic. Calm and measured Vic. Not anymore. “Hey! What is wrong with you? Why do you have to go around winding the rest of us up? Why can’t you just do your job like the rest of us?”

“I’m standing up for Norman ‘cos he can’t stand up for himself.” Tom shouted. Norman shuffled his feet, not having moved from where he stood.

“You don’t give a sherbet about Norman. Think you’ve made his life easier by making an enemy of our Henry?” Tom sniffed at this, trying to ignore Vic’s astute rebuttal. “’Standing up for Norman’. No, you used him to get at Henry because that’s what you do-”

Tom had no chance to respond. The lights of the mess hall cut out and red flashed all around. The emergency alarm wailed, men scrambled to their stations. This was it. Exercises and drills had led to this moment. Vic stood and held is hand out.

“Come on, mate. Take my hand.”

“Nah, mate.” Tom stayed on the ground. “Better get on with my job like you say.”

With one last annoyed glance, Vic ran out of the mess hall. Tom launched into action. He sprinted down the narrow corridors of the Exeter as other sailors hurried past. The cry of the siren faded as blood roared in his ears. Skidding to a halt at the end of the corridor, Tom jumped the stairs of the gunroom and began removing his boiler suit. Campbell, dressed in his cap and overcoat appeared at the hatch.

“What’s the story, sir?” Tom called up, tying his sleeves around his waist and watching the others get to work.

“All you need to know is that she’s sunk nine of ours and we’re not going to be the tenth. Get on with it!”

“Got it.” Tom sped into the gunroom and stared up at the turret. Henry and Vic were already preparing the missiles for loading. They placed them in their barrels and Tom lifted each into the gun, listening with intent as they were fired beyond the steel of the ship. All around them came bangs and clatters. After the firing of three missiles, Tom’s arms were throbbing but he continued the work. All at once, the ship shuddered and an almighty bang rang deep through the gunroom. The lights flickered off.

“Fucking hell,” whispered Vic. The screams of men echoed above them.

“If that took the canary out, nobody gets a refund,” Tom laughed, trying to ease the terror in his stomach, the terror reflected in Vic’s eyes as he looked at him. More screams rent the air.

“Fucking hell,” Tom looked up and saw fire curling down the turret. The world stilled. As ash began to fall against his face, Tom watched the flames fade against the darkness and was reminded, irresistibly, of Bess’ hair. The image of her sat on the front step of her house, smoking a cigarette and lit by the setting sun was just racing through his mind when the air was sucked from the gunroom and he was thrown into the steel wall. Heat swept across Tom’s body and the ship was silent.

He was back in the Vaughn’s kitchen, watching Bess sewing Robina Chase’s red suit. A cigarette hung loosely from her lips and every so often she glanced at him, as though checking he was still there. His eyes felt heavy, and Tom felt himself drifting into sleep as the fire crackled in the grate, Bess humming along to the wireless. The snap and pop of the flames became louder, and the smoke of Bess’ cigarette stung his nostrils.

He woke with a gasp. With lungs of fire, Tom crawled to his knees and spat black tar against the ground. The room was silent but for the hum of flame.

“Vic,” His voice was hoarse from the polluted air. His friend lay next to him, unmoving, and Tom tapped his foot. “Vic,” He rolled him over and bile rose to his mouth. Vic’s once bonny face was charred beyond recognition. Plasma oozed from the cracked skin and his teeth were bared in a grisly smile. Is he handsome? Tom fought the urge to vomit as his breath came in ragged rasps. From across the room, an agonised moan sounded. Tom stood and dragged is heavy body towards the noise. It was Henry.

“Got four dead here,” Tom called out. “What about you?”

“I’m not dead,” Henry groaned, and as Tom rounded the corner, he froze. Henry was slouched against the gunroom’s loading dock, his right arm missing below the shoulder, grizzled skin dripping blood onto the floor.

“Don’t you worry, you bastard.” Tom’s mind seemed to take over his body as he grabbed a cable from the wall and crouched by the man. “You ready? Right, this is gonna hurt.” He paused for Henry but he said nothing. “Right? We’re gonna get this tied off. I’m gonna count to three-”

“Just do it,” Henry murmured as Tom placed the makeshift tourniquet around what was left of his arm.

“Right,” Tom braced himself. “One-” He tightened the tourniquet and Henry screamed as Campbell raced into the room.

“We’re gonna need a medic down here, sir.” Tom growled, looking at the bits of body strewn around him.

“The medic is in worse shape than the able seamen,” Campbell wiped his dirty brow. “We’ve lost a lot of men but we don’t seem to be sinking.”

Tom hung his head and looked at Henry. “This’ll have to do for now. Let’s get you up.” He threw Henry’s remaining arm over his shoulder and hauled him to his feet with Campbell’s help. Henry cried out and shuffled towards the ladder. “We’ll get you up these steps and, if you slip, I’ll catch you.”

Once they had carried Henry to the sickbay, Tom made his way through the ship, checking for other casualties. He moved through the smoke-filled corridors, hand in front of him as torchlight pierced the smog. Terror was sinking into his bones. Vic’s face flashed in his mind and he blinked. At every turn he feared tripping over another body. Breathing heavily, he fumbled his way around until a faint twittering pricked at his ears. There on the floor, cage upturned, was Vera. Tears filled Tom’s eyes as he righted the cage and peered in. In the corner, freckled and inconspicuous, lay an egg.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

It was a typically crisp and overcast Wednesday in Manchester. Bess took the early shift that day and was sitting in the window of her bedroom, hair dripping as she dried it with a towel. Dot and Fergal were still working and, downstairs, she could hear Cora beginning dinner.

A flurry of movement caught her eye and she looked down the road to see Douglas Bennett pedalling furiously towards his house. He dropped his bicycle by the door and hurried inside. Best check on him later, she thought.

She moved from the window to the bed and lay her head on the pillow. From beneath the it she pulled out a small biscuit tin and lifted its lid. The letters she exchanged with Tom could no longer be contained in Bess’ books, and so she hid them under the bed with her box of buttons and ribbon. Tom’s face peered up at her from the top of the pile and she reached out for him. A violent shiver ran down her back and her blood ran cold. Bess stared back at him as ice prickled at her skin.

“Bess? I’ve been knocking,” Bess jolted and slammed the lid of the tin. Cora held the bedroom door in a white-knuckled grip, her doe eyes wide with concern. They glanced momentarily at the biscuit tin but she said nothing.

“What is it?” Bess’ voice was barely above a whisper.

Cora swallowed. “The Exeter,” her voice wobbled. “It’s been hit.”

Neither spoke. Not for a while. Not until Bess choked on the air. “Oh, my darling-” Cora made to move towards her sister but Bess was faster. She pelted from the room and down the stairs, slipped on her work boots and Albie’s overcoat before running into the yard. She wrestled her bike from the fence and cycled to the only place she could think of.

“Dadda?” Bess called out when she reached the dockyard, frantically searching for her father. A few people gave her pitying looks, and one man whistled at the sight of her in her nightdress and overcoat. “Dadda? Fergal Vaughn? Has anyone seen Fergal Vaughn?”

“Bess?” The voice came from behind her. She dismounted from the bike and watched her father emerge from a cabin, cup of tea in hand. He took in her ashen face and his cup fell to the floor. “My God,” he was striding towards her, hands outstretched. “What’s happened? What’s happened to my boy?”

“Nothing, Dadda,” Bess whispered weakly and her body slackened in front of him. Fergal caught her before she fell to the ground.

“What is it then, my girl?” He cupped her face in his large, calloused hands. “Tell me, my darling.” Concern overcame his face as he watched her.

“It’s Tom-” An ugly sob ripped her throat. “The Exeter-” And another. She had no need to say more, for Fergal had wrapped her in his arms and begun rocking her back and forth.

“Come. Let’s get you home.” The few onlookers watching the scene retreated as Fergal picked his daughter’s bike up from the ground. “Sit on the saddle, I’ll wheel you home like I used to.”

The night had darkened by the time Fergal wheeled the bike onto their street. Lampposts were flickering into life, and his daughter’s sobs had subsided. She sat limply on the saddle, breathing deeply though still shaking. They came to rest outside the front door and Bess moved to stand. Cora opened it before Fergal could retrieve his keys, and behind her Bess saw Dot perched on the staircase.

“A pot of tea, I think.” Fergal stepped inside and removed his coat. Dot moved to the kettle. One of Bess’ booted feet was barely over the threshold when a muffled cry caused them all to freeze. What followed were a series of loud crashes and more shouting.

“STOP! STOP IT” The voice was shouting. More crashes sounded.

“Douglas,” Bess whispered and ran across the street. The front door was unlocked, and Bess entered in time to see Douglas pick up the wireless and throw it against the table, copper wire spilling from the splintered wood.

“I want him back,” Douglas’ voice broke as he shouted. “I want him back! I want my boy back!” Bess ran to him and gripped his arms. He folded into a chair and his body heaved as tears mingled with the salty tracks already coating his face. She held him tightly, cooing and soothing him as he shook.

“Douglas.” Fergal’s voice was firm. Bess watched as her father entered the kitchen and placed a hand on his friend’s back. “You’ll stay with us tonight.” It was a statement, not a question. Douglas nodded in Bess’ arms and stood to be led away. Bess turned down the paraffin lamp and followed her father back into the house. Cora was already pouring five cups of tea when Douglas slumped into the armchair. Dot ran downstairs with a blanket and draped it across his shoulders, before wrapping her arms around him. Bess joined her, as did Cora. The Vaughn girls took Douglas in their arms, and Fergal watched with pride as fear for his own son worried his nerves.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

The HMS Exeter juddered through the South Atlantic, aflame but afloat. Tom Bennett made his solitary way along the upper deck, glancing at the debris of ship and sailor as he did so. Coughing, he came across a row of tarpaulins. Hammocks. Each was bundled and he knew that beneath were the bodies of the crew. The breeze from the water had blown one away and Tom paused as he looked down at the man. It was Vic.

“I’m sorry.” Tom said as he knelt beside Vic’s body. “I should have shook your hand.” With bloodied hands, Tom covered his face and stilled for a while.

“Didn’t have you down for the praying type, Bennett.” Campbell approached him with a cigarette. He didn’t offer one to Tom.

“I wasn’t praying sir.” Tom stood. “I wouldn’t give God the work. He’s got enough on his plate sorting this shit out.”

Campbell nodded. “Hell of a crew. I’m proud of every one of you. You took part in a famous victory today, Bennett. You should be very proud.”

“Yes, sir.” He felt sick. “I am, sir.” Campbell left him to his thoughts, and Tom looked around. Bloodied and battered men lined the deck railings, and he could barely distinguish one from another. One sailor still had his cap on perfectly and was attending to some of the wounded.

“Oi, Terry. Your winnings mate.” Terry watched Tom approach, bemused. “You were as near eleven hundred hours. Well done, yeah?”

Terry didn’t move. After a moment, he said “I can’t take this. Half the lads who bet on it are dead.”

“Well, you can do what you like with your half. All the lads put in fair and square. It’s our money now.”

Terry eyed him. “Well, I think we should give it to the widows. Or the chaplain or something-”

“We’re in the Atlantic.” Tom wanted to scream. “Off a country I’ve never heard of, chasing a ship I can’t even fucking pronounce.”

“What has any of that got to do with the money?” Terry asked in disbelief.

“Vic’s dead,” Tom said simply. “And I never got to shake his hand. The world’s fucked mate, so look after number one.”

Terry laughed bitterly and thrust the coin purse at Tom’s chest. “Keep the fucking lot.” Hot panic flushed Tom’s cheeks and his chest began to heave. He had to get out. One way or another.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name,” the crew chorused in solemn unison. Those who remained uninjured hadn’t slept through the night, working to put out the fire and prevent the ship from sinking. Tom stood by the gun turret, eyes bloodshot and unmoving as he listened to the men praying. He didn’t join in. Despondent and weary, when Campbell had finished the memorial service, he made his way below deck to the sickbay.

He glanced around but could see no sign of the man he was looking for. Cap in one hand and coin purse in the other, he moved through the cramped deck, between injured men and those assisting them. Someone passed him a cigarette and he took a puff. As he handed it back, his target came into view. Arm bandaged, and gazing sadly through the porthole by his bunk, was Henry. He seemed to sense someone’s eyes on him, for he inclined his head as Tom moved forward and placed the money in his lap.

“I know it won’t go far, but you need it more than me so-” Tom trailed off. Henry watched him. He’d never known Tom Bennett so quiet.

“Thank you for seeing me right after it happened,” he nodded to the covered remnants of his arm. Tom shook his head as though saving another man’s life was nothing.

“Graf Spee has sunk,” he said finally.

“What, did we hit her?”

“Nah, captain scuttled his own ship so we couldn’t take her. Shot himself. Don’t know if that counts as one for us, what with it being an own goal-”

“Shut your noise, will you?” Henry hissed, though it made Tom smile. There was a moment’s more silence.

“Don’t tell anyone I’ve done this,” Tom said softly to Henry.

“Yeah, I’ve heard they’ve been giving you grief about the money.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t doing it for the lads.” Tom was quick to correct him. “I’m doing it for Vic. Sort of soppy thing he’d do, isn’t it?”

Henry nodded, and Tom continued. “This doesn’t make us mates.”

“No,” Henry half-smiled. “Thank you for the money.” The smile Tom returned was gentle and genuine. He nodded to Henry’s arm.

“Maybe you could put it towards a hook?” Before Henry could retort, Tom meandered away and out of sight. A moment later, he returned.

“Could you lend us a few bob, Henry?”

“Jesus Christ-”

“Not for me!” Tom held up a placating hand. “Just need a little to send home.” Henry handed over sixpence and Tom touched his cap. She’ll have to get a photo now, he thought.

Note: Hitler’s Only Got One Ball was a British war song. This was hard to write because there is so much dialogue in the show. Watching it back closely to get the transcript, there are a few moments where you can see Tom beginning to panic. So well acted by EM! Next chapter should be up soon. I know I said it last time, but I’m so excited about the next couple of chapters!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire #ewan mitchell x reader #the seamstress & the sailor

133 notes · View notes

ladybellissima · 6 months

Text

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 9

Standing before his mother, who was stuffing her face with cake, Katakuri listened patiently what his duties were. For Big mom it was very important to have Katakuri by her side. With his strength and loyalty she could trust him to get what she wanted.

"Keep an eye on Pudding. When she kills her husband Sanji, you and the others destroy Germa 66. I don't accept a failure. Bege will make sure to get their weapons. I put him in charge of the safety. ", she spoke happily.

"Yes mama as you wish."

"Good my son. Now then, till the wedding day.", she sang and waved him goodbye. Nodding Katakuri turned back and left. Step after step he felt unsure of what to do. He didn't really pay much attention to the whole conversation, because his mind was focused on his wife. Pudding's wedding was compared to his private life a piece of cake.

Should he try to speak with her? Or maybe just use his authority against her and order something so she wasn't able to refuse being with him?

Pathetic…

So how should he apologize? Sighing he felt completely lost.

Shaking his head he decided to just stay in his room like he used to. Like he always did. Alone. It was easier than dealing with these confused emotions, but Pudding's words gave him a fluttering feeling in his chest. "She was smiling after talking about me…? How on earth could she be happy about being with me… ", he sighed. He had to give her time. Much time to start from the beginning.

"Big brother …..! Katakuri!", Oven rushed to his side with an horrified expression on his face. Seeing the future he gasp after getting an image of his screaming wife. Grabbing Oven by his jacket he pulled him closer with an angered "Speak!".

Oven pushed himself back, while breathing heavily. "I got an emergency call from one of your servants. Thank God I was at my office. Some bandits invaded your island and took (Y/N) with them.."

Pushing his brother out of the way Katakuri rushed past him and headed to his ship. Oven ran after him for help.

" (Y/N)….. (Y/N)… God damn it. ", he growled frustrated. The image of her screaming and struggling was haunting his mind. What are they going to do with her? Torture her? Rape her? Sell her? Every option let his blood boil and mind go crazy.

"I swear if they touch her I won't only kill them…", he growled.

Seeing his island in the distance he used his devil fruit ability to grab a tree with his mochi hands and pulled himself towards his land to make things faster.

Garbage and footprints showed him the way of destruction and ended in front of his home. The door was open and blood painted his steps. Rushing inside he reached (Y/N) 's room, which was empty and seemed untouched. Only his own creation of the broken table showed some violence. At his office the smell of blood became worse. Whimpering was heard and quickly he stepped inside to find a servant laying in his blood with his snail transponder by his side.

"who was that! Tell me", he growled pissed.

"Master Katakuri…. I don't know. It all happened so fast. After they shot me, I was able to crawl into your office to get you.", he whispered exhausted.

"They took Lady (Y/N)…. Please find her Master. Bring her back.", he whispered and Katakuri kneeled down beside him.

"You don't have to tell me that. They will plead for death, after I am finished with them.", he spoke seriously and got back up.

" Hell brother.. Damn it, your house is a disaster.", Oven spoke shocked. Pissed Katakuri walked out and followed the trail of blood, till he reached the kitchen. Servants of Oven's ship were already helping the injured.

"Nobody died but they are all badly injured.", one servant told him exhausted. Katakuri searched for any signs or traces and stopped at the sight of baskets with familiar looking doughnuts.

"She… made the doughnuts for Mama..", he thought shocked, while a small basket with a note took his attention. Taking the card in his hands they started to shake after reading the words of his wife.

"Does anyone have information who attacked?", Katakuri growled frustrated and looked down to the injured cooks. Nodding fearfully the head cook started to explain.

"Master Katakuri. They were clothed completely in black and looked like bandits. There was no pirate symbol on their body. Lady (Y/N) was baking and they thought she was a maid. We wanted to help her.. We told them that she is your wife, but they didn't believe it.", they all cried bitterly.

"No one believes it. It is unfortunate.", he whispered to himself and headed outside deep in thought.

"Black clothed people…no pirates.. Sure i have met them after they passed our territory.", Katakuri thought back to the past meetings he had with his mother. He only remembered one group of black clothed people, because their captain wore a ridiculous hat with the words no mercy on it and looked like he could be killed just with the gash of wind of a shooting jelly bean. What a bunch of dumbasses.

" The black bandits… ", he whispered pissed and remembered how angered they were after his mother declined their offer. She even said that killing them would be unnecessary waste of energy.

"Did you find anything?", Oven asked nervously and sat down on his steps. "Yeah this was the cause of the black bandits, which Mama denied to work with a few weeks ago. They were a bunch of idiots.", Katakuri explained angered.

"But they were able to invade your island and took (Y/N).", Oven spoke only to get a furious look of his brother.

"Nobody died. Only idiots would make such a bad work to leave survivers, who could give us informations.", Katakuri's brother nodded impressed of his words.

"We should be happy that they are so dumb. So we know now where your wife is. I hope for them they are prepared to die. Unbelievable that they really dare to do this.. Hopefully your wife isn't hurt. ",his brother sighed exhausted and shut his mouth quickly after sensing the deadly aura around Katakuri.

"Oven, Mama awaits a basket of (Y/N) 's doughnuts. Go to the kitchen and deliver them. Also she shouldn't know that (Y/N) was taken. I don't want that she gets in any trouble of leaving the island, even if she was kidnapped.", he ordered and headed towards his ship. Quickly Oven ran after him to stop him.

"Big brother! Are you really leaving now to look for her?! what about the wedding. You have only 3 days. You know what happens if you don't come! Or if Mama wants to see you. I know it's hard, but think of Mama… "

Katakuri grabbed his brother roughly by his neck and pulled him closer.

"She also has to attend the wedding.. (Y/N) is in danger. I will go and get her now. You will deal with it."

Oven gulped nervously and could see the murderous glint in his eyes. There was no way to stop him and to be honest Oven didn't want to either. (Y/N) was helping his brother in so many ways and hopefully, after everything that happened, he hoped that she would still stay by his side with that breathtaking smile. Letting Oven go Katakuri started to leave.

"I am sorry brother. I am just worried about you… And don't think (Y/N) isn't important to me. I like her a lot. She is part of us. I will have your back till you come.", Oven shouted and started to fulfill his brother's orders. Stepping into the kitchen he took the baskets for his mother.

"What beautiful desserts…", he thought with awe and found a small basket hidden at the back. Noticing a small note he took a closer look to read it.

"You are too good to be true… I hope he will find you and I hope that someday you will be happy with him…", he whispered and put the basket back.

The note still in his hands he smiled down to the sweet handwriting of this beautiful girl and read it once again. It was just a simple text, but meant so much. She still gave her best. She still didn't give up. He was impressed by her willpower.

xxx

"I heard you left early for your mother. Your merienda already past so I made these for you. Have a nice day…. Your wife, (Y/N)"

xxx

Katakuri was deep in thought, while the cold sea breeze blew into his face. He couldn't imagine that she was taken away from him so easily. From one moment to another she was gone and maybe forever, if they were that quick to pass his mother's territory. He always thought that she would run away someday, because of having him as her husband. But in a way there was always the safe feeling behind these worries that she was forced to stay. Now standing here and feel how it was to loose her, made him awfully sad. There was only one time feeling this way in his life. As he was a child, his sister Brulee got hurt because of him. Because of his face. Because of his weakness in protecting her.

Because he was a monster…

" (Y/N)… I need you.. "

xxx

On the other side, a young girl was leaning against the moldy wood, locked away under the deck of the bandit's ship. Her clothes were torn and the dirt glued on her like a second skin. The darkness didn't give her any clue what time it was. The air was thick and smelling awful. Exhausted she felt a starting headache coming. Closing her eyes she just wished to be with her family again. Images of her laughing parents popped up in her mind or the baking with her grandmother, but then Katakuri appeared and tears rolled down her face. She didn't want to see him. Not now.. Not in her condition. Shaking her head she tried, but failed miserably.

"as my wife you are under my protection…"

"don't worry this room belongs to you.."

"We won't eat together ever…"

"Thank you for the doughnuts. They were amazing.."

"I… I said if you want we can look into shops that you like…"

"You are under me! You do as I say!"

All his words echoed in her mind and let her sob uncontrollably.

"It hurts so much….", she cried out and hid her face in her hands. Why did she have those feelings? Why was he haunting her mind? Frustrated she gave in and brushed her tears away. She knew why. The whole time she knew it.

"Because deep inside I knew that he has a heart..that he protects me.. And that he tried… He tried so hard to get out of his comfort zone… And I like this side of him so much…", she whispered with a weak smile.

"even if it is buried and hidden in this cold expression of yours."

Looking down to her bruised legs she sighed deeply.

"But it seems that it isn't important anymore…there are bigger things on your duty list than coming for your little toy. I left the island, broke another rule, so my life is in your hands now."

"Right Katakuri?"

#romance #fanfiction #karakuricharlotte #katakuri x reader #one piece

37 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 8 months

Text

Rebuild

Emily gets hurt when chasing down a suspect, and it gives her and Aaron the chance to have a conversation they've been putting off for days.

-x-

Hi friends!

This is just some good old fashioned whump mixed in with our favourite idiots having an important conversation <3

Please do let me know what you think, comments, reblogs and likes feed the little writing monsters that live in my brain!

-x-

Warnings: mention of blood/injury

Words: 2.7k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He was mad at her.

It was unlike them to bring their personal problems to work, their ability to compartmentalise enough to mean the two rarely bled together. This was different, the argument they’d been having in his living room, the one Penelope had interrupted when she called about the case they were on, still hanging over them days later. It made things awkward, tense in a way that had made both Derek and Dave come up to her separately to ask what was wrong, neither of them believing her when she tried to say everything was fine.

Sometimes she hated that the people she surrounded herself with read behaviour for a living. That her boyfriend was one of those people.

She’d been with Aaron for almost a year now, his love for her the saving grace that had kept her in DC even when Clyde offered her an out, a job she knows she would have taken if it wasn’t for the man she loves. He was perfect for her. He loved her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be or who he thought she should be, and he was the first person who had ever loved her like that. She saw everything with him. A house they could call home. Marriage. A child that would make Jack a big brother, something he asked for a lot. She wanted it all.

But she still hesitated when he asked her to move in with him.

It was the catalyst for the argument they still hadn’t finished. A momentary reaction, a wave of fear she hadn’t entirely understood herself at first washing over her. Something he’d picked up on immediately. Things had gotten out of hand quickly and both of them had said things she knows they didn’t mean, his accusation, his defensiveness when she tried to pretend everything was fine still ringing in her head.

“Maybe you’re just not as serious about us as I am.”

Penelope had called when his words were still hanging in the air around him, her gasp that followed barely out of her mouth, a phantom ache still stuck between her ribs, when he answered the phone, a look of regret in his eyes that hadn’t quite shifted since.

She knows she all but lives with him anyway, that she can’t remember the last night they spent apart, but the thought of making it official had made her panic no matter how much she actually wants it. Every dream she’d had since haunted by the memories of the last time she’d moved in with a man and his son. Two pairs of matching icy blue eyes staring back at her, a name that was no longer hers slipping past their lips and echoing around her even after she had woken up.

They’d agreed a long time ago not to bring their personal issues to work. So even though they were sharing a room like they always did they hadn’t spoken about it. The argument paused where it had been interrupted, waiting for them to get back to continue it. They were barely speaking in general outside of the case, falling asleep in their hotel bed with their backs facing each other, a cursory goodnight and I love you exchanged as they drifted off.

Every morning they’d woken up wrapped around each other, curled together in a way that made it hard to determine where the other ended.

She looks at Aaron as the SUV comes to a stop, studying his face before he turns to look at her. She flashes him a small smile as their eyes meet and then she clears her throat, everything they hadn’t said to each other making the air in the car thick.

He’d paired them together, an abuse of power he rarely used to keep her close physically when it felt like they were emotionally more distant than they’d been in years. He can see the sadness in her eyes, the tightness in her smile that reminds him of when she’d first come home from Paris, skittish and on edge in a way he’d never known her to be. It breaks his heart, and makes him sigh as starts to speak.

“Em-”

“So, do you want to be good cop or bad cop?” She asks, cutting him off, not wanting to have this conversation outside the apartment building of a suspect in their case, not sure how to even start explaining to him what she hadn’t been able to figure out completely in her own head yet.

He smiles sadly and clears his throat, “You’re excellent at being good cop.”

She nods and watches as he reaches for the door handle, the car door already open when she places her hand on his thigh to get his attention. When he looks at her she squeezes, hoping he feels the reassurance in it, that he feels the love.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” She says, smiling when he places his hand over hers and briefly links their fingers, a flash of the man she loves peeking out from beneath her boss.

“Later.”

They sit like that for a few seconds before she lets go and they get out of the car. They don’t even make it to the front door of the apartment building before they see the guy suspected of being involved in the murders they were investigating, leaving the building.

“Daniel Carson?” Emily says as she approaches. She places her hand on her hip, pushing her jacket back just enough to reveal her badge and gun, and she sees Aaron do the same out of the corner of her eye. Daniel’s eyes go almost comically wide and he takes a couple of steps backwards, putting more distance between them before he turns and runs, “Damn it.”

“I’ll go after him, try and chase him around the building,” Aaron says, already going after him, “You try and cut him off in that alleyway.”

She nods even though Aaron is no longer able to see her and she turns, heading towards the alley next to the apartment building. She groans in frustration as she gets there to find the metal gate leading to the alley is closed, and she rattles it when she tries to open it only to find it’s locked, cursing under her breath. She knows she’s on limited time, that they didn’t know if the guy was armed or not and she didn’t want to be stuck on the other side of the fence from him and Aaron, so she starts to climb up it. Stepping on a trash can to give herself leverage. She’s almost over it when she sees Daniel Carson run into the alley, clearly not expecting to see her or for the gate to be locked. He turns and leaves the alley again, and loses her balance, falling to the ground.

It takes a second for the pain to register, for her brain to catch up with what’s happened. She tries to sit up but feels a sharp pain spread through her leg, making her yell out. Her eyes go wide as she looks at her thigh. There was a metal pole sticking through it, her blood warm and sticky as it pours through the tear in her pants. Her hands shake as she shifts just enough to lean against the alley wall, the movement making her grunt in pain.

“Fuck.”

“Emily?”

She looks up just as Aaron enters the alley, his panic clear as he kneels down next to her, the crack of his knees against the concrete echoing around them.

“I fell off the damn gate,” she says, wincing as Aaron touches her uninjured leg, immediately withdrawing when the movement accidentally jostles her, “Fuck,” she says, looking down at her thigh again, “That’s a metal pole through my leg.”

The pain doesn't quite match up with what she’s looking at and she knows from experience that it's shock, her body protecting her from feeling it. She half pays attention as Aaron calls it in, a shake to his voice as he requests an ambulance as she keeps staring at her leg.

“Sweetheart,” he says, cupping her face, making sure he’s gentle as he guides her to look at him, “The ambulance is on the way,” he says, watching as she nods, “We’ve got to leave it in there until they get here, okay?”

She nods again, clearing her throat, “You should go after him.”

“What?” He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together, “Who?”

“Daniel Carson,” she grits out, pain radiating through her, “He ran as soon as he saw we’re FBI.”

He chuckles humourlessly, “Emily-”

“I’ll be fine,” she says, forcing a smile, “It’s not like I can go anywhere, I can wait for the ambulance.”

He stares at her for a moment as he shakes his head before he leans forward to kiss her forehead, “If you think I’m leaving you here alone you’re crazy,” he says, his eyes drifting back to her injury, “I’m not going anywhere. As soon as you’re in the ambulance I’ll call Derek, he can take it from here.”

Part of her wants to argue with him, but she doesn’t, because she always wants him to stay. His presence more of a comfort than anything else could ever be. She stares at him, the concern in his eyes clear as he keeps looking back and forth between her face and her leg, and she reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers together, the words she hadn’t been able to find for days finally escaping.

“It’s not that I don’t want to live with you-”

“You want to talk about this now?” He asks, a laugh catching in his chest, painful and sharp as he watches her blood seep onto the ground beneath them, causing him to make a comparison to a moment from their past that he’d rather forget, the very thing that had forced him to bury her.

“Call it a distraction,” she says, smiling when he shakes his head at her, “You can’t argue with me, I’m impaled on a metal pole,” she watches as he concedes, a subtle nod of his head, and she squeezes his hand again, “I love you, Aaron,” she says, “I never want you to doubt that, ever. And I want to live with you and Jack. And I want to marry you and have kids and…I want to do it all. But…” she drifts off shaking her head at herself, closing her eyes as she says the last part, “The last time I lived with someone else, the only other time I’ve lived with someone else, was with Ian and…it took me a minute to get my head around that,” she pauses and opens her eyes, unsurprised to find him staring right at her, “It was never anything to do with not wanting to live with you.”

Aaron sighs, a breath that had been stuck in his chest for days escaping, and he chastises himself for not seeing it, for not thinking about why she would have hesitated. So caught up in his own insecurities, in his own head, that he hadn’t thought about it.

“You’d think considering what we do for a living we’d be better at communicating,” he quips, and she laughs, shaking her head at him.

“Well,” she says, hearing a siren approaching, “No one is perfect,” she smiles, “Not even us,” she lifts their joint hands and kisses his knuckles, “We’re pretty damn close though.”

He nods and leans forward to kiss her, a quick thing stamped against her lips, “I’m sorry for what I said,” he says, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear, “I know you’re as serious about this as I am.”

She kisses him, stopping him from apologising anymore, not needing to hear it. She’d already forgiven him anyway.

“I know,” she says, squeezing his hand as the ambulance comes to a stop at the end of the alleyway. She blows out a breath as she watches the EMTs approach, the thought of being lifted from the ground making her tense, something that makes the pain worse itself. She looks back at her boyfriend, “I’m sorry if I break your hand when they try and lift me up.”

Aaron smiles and squeezes her hand in his, a silent acceptance of what was to come, “At least we’re going to the hospital anyway.”

___

She has to have surgery to repair the damage done, and Aaron thinks the couple of hours he’s left alone in the waiting room are amongst the longest of his life. He goes to her room the second he’s allowed to, his hand around hers until she wakes up, keeping watch over her like she had once done for him what felt like a lifetime ago.

When she wakes up the first thing she feels is the pain, dull and throbbing as it radiates out from the spot the metal pole had pierced through her skin, and as she opens her eyes she half expects to still be able to see it there, the phantom feeling of it still present. She smiles sleepily at Aaron as she looks at him, squeezing his hand gently as their eyes meet.

“Hey,” she says, her voice gravelly from sleep and pain.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, standing up and dropping a kiss on her forehead, “How’s the pain?”

She hums, her eyelids heavy as she blinks, “Somewhere between a paper cut and a table leg to the abdomen,” she says, chuckling to herself as he shakes his head at her, “What? Come on, that was funny.”

“Sure it was, baby,” he says, placating her poor attempt at humour, knowing she’d do just about anything to cheer him up, “Do you need anything?”

“Water would be good,” she replies, and he nods, kissing her forehead again before he turns to grab the tiny cup from the nightstand next to her bed, holding the straw still so she can take a sip. She swears it’s the best thing she’s ever had to drink, the room temperature water soothing her parched throat, “Thanks.”

He smiles as he sets the cup back down and sits on the edge of her bed, careful not to cause her any pain, “Anything for you,” he says, lifting her hand and kissing her knuckles, “You know that.”

It makes her smile because she knows he means it. That he’d pull the stars from the sky if she asked. That he’d tear the universe apart and set it all on fire for her. She knows because she’d do the same for him.

“The doctor said I’d need someone to look after me when I get out of here,” she says, her attempt to sound casual lost to the medication in her system and the exhaustion of the day, “I was thinking I should just go straight home with you.”

The way his face lights up is worth everything, his smile bright and disbelieving, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, shrugging nonchalantly “Home is wherever you are anyway.”

He leans down to kiss her, “Home is wherever you are for me too.”

She smiles softly and reaches up to straighten out his hair, the locks mussed from where he’d clearly run his fingers through it when she was in surgery.

“Did Derek and the others catch the guy?” She asks, and Aaron nods in response.

“They did,” he replies, “Found some of the missing items from the victims in his apartment too. So they are closing up the case with the locals.”

“Good,” she says, leaning her head back against the pillow, scrunching her nose up in distaste, “Derek is going to give me so much shit when he finds out I fell off that gate,” she says, only half joking. When she looks back at Aaron she watches him hesitate slightly, and she narrows her eyes, “What?”

He clears his throat, “He…may already be calling you The Six Million Dollar Woman.”

There’s a moment of silence, a beat of it, before she scoffs in outrage. “Oh that bastard is lucky I’m going to be on crutches for a couple of months.”

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction

52 notes · View notes

decks-writing-blog · 18 days

Text

Whatever the Fuck Benrey Is: Chapter Seventeen: Just a Peek

Chapter One

Previous Chapter

‘Aperture’s haunted.’ read Bubby’s text to the group chat several days after he’d left.

Gordon shouldn’t ask because he shouldn’t have even checked his phone and had only done so because it going off had reminded him he hadn’t put it on silent. At work, still sorting through Black Mesa’s recovered hard drives – so far nothing on Benrey had been found – wasn’t the time. But on the other hand… ‘What does that mean?’

It was Benrey who replied. ‘theres ghosts there’

Dr. Coomer’s reply came a second later. ‘It means the Aperture Science facility is inhabited by ghosts and/or demons. Both of whom are known for existing in or sometimes being trapped or bound to specific locations that are then referred to as being ‘haunted’. Sometimes they will also haunt specific people, following them when they move to a new house or just sticking with them throughout the day. One could perhaps say that you were once haunted like this Gordon, when you claimed a skeleton was following you that the rest of us couldn’t see. There are also haunted items, meaning that a ghost/demon is connected to that item.’ How did he type all that so fast? … Probably some cybernetic thing in his hands giving him superhuman texting speed. Gordon was a little jealous, he was used to it now but one-handed texting was still uncomfortably slow.

‘I know what the word haunted means. What I meant was, ‘please explain in what way the Aperture Science facility is supposedly haunted, Bubby’. What drew you to that conclusion?’

‘Should’ve just said that then, dumbass.’ Bubby replied at last. ‘I mean everyone’s dead. I had to break in to even get inside because corpses can’t open doors.’

‘How’d everyone die?’ Tommy asked.

‘I don’t know and I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I think I’m gonna get a job at NASA instead. They’re more ethical so less fun but I want to go to space anyway.’

‘Maybe we should go check out Aperture? They might need help. Like maybe they did a resonance cascade too.’ Gordon didn’t particularly like the thought of going to a place in the middle of something like that but they’d already dealt with one. They’d be more prepared this time too. If Aperture’s got more out of hand it could come back to bite them.

‘I don’t think that’s it. No one was injured and the air smelled bad. Worse than just normal death smell. It made me feel a bit unwell. I think it was poison.’

It would maybe be a good idea to make absolutely sure that whatever it was wouldn’t crawl up out of the facility and do who knows what. Also like with Black Mesa’s disaster, there might be survivors in need of help. And then there was the technology aspect of it. What all Aperture was working on was a mystery but if any of it was anything like some of Black Mesa’s projects, it was some pretty big stuff, potentially capable of making a big impact on the world. Whatever had been on the Borealis had certainly been a pretty big deal before it vanished a couple years ago, bringing Black Mesa’s spies – it had been a big enough deal to draw all three of them in – with it to never be heard from again. An event big enough that it had become the gossip of the whole Black Mesa facility for like a week, ending once and for all the ‘secret’ part of Black Mesa’s spies at Aperture being an open secret.

On the other hand though, it would be dangerous, the drive down there was multiple days and they were kind of in the middle of something right now. Finding Benrey’s files before someone else on the Black Mesa staff did was important. If they left for that long, someone else would take over the sorting job now that it had been started.

‘Maybe we wait for it to clear out a bit more then go investigate. Or just send other people.’ Gordon had a position of power in Black Mesa now, he could use that to his advantage. Aperture being their long term rival would make it justifiable as a company move too. He wouldn’t condone stealing their research but if they were all dead anyway or just as defunct as Black Mesa now was… Or they could maybe merge and become just the one big science tech company that he was trying to not let be super unethical anymore but Breen was still the boss and likely wouldn’t be willing to continue to bend to Gordon’s will as much as he had been for too much longer. They could still potentially do good things though. If they got there anyway. ‘For now, I gotta get back to work.’

His phone beeped again before he set it to silent and put it down but he ignored it. He was a professional. And Tommy and Dr. Coomer were literally in the room with him so if it was either of them had something important to say or relay from Benrey or Bubby, they could just tell him verbally.

By some bastion of luck one of the last already recovered hard drives contained the data on Dr. Coomer’s clones. The experiment had started with cloning mice, then rabbits, then monkeys before finally reaching human studies. Given that it was about cloning, Gordon shouldn’t be surprised to encounter the name ‘Harold Coomer’, especially since he’d decided to keep reading instead of moving on because he’d known of Coomer’s clones, but he kind of was anyway. In his defense it was late and they were staying overtime to finish sorting through the rest of the data so he was tired and his brain was a bit fried. Most of Black Mesa’s experiments being interesting didn’t make them not taxing to sort through.

Tearing his gaze off his screen, he looked up at Dr. Coomer sitting at the desk across from him. They hadn’t discussed what to do should any of them find Dr. Coomer or Bubby’s data. Anyone else at Black Mesa seeing it wouldn’t be as much of an issue as they weren’t being kept secret. But it might still contain the kind of info one or both of them didn’t want the friend group knowing. After all it was kind of like looking at medical records, right?

So Gordon should tell Dr. Coomer what he’d found. Maybe even ask him if he wanted the data deleted or stolen to be put solely into his possession the way they planned to do with Benrey’s. It’d be the polite thing to do. …. On the other hand though, Gordon was curious. It was natural to be curious about one’s super-powered friends, right? Since things had settled down, Gordon had made several attempts to talk to Dr. Coomer about his clones and cybernetics but while he always answered questions, he wasn’t often particularly forthcoming on the specifics of how it all worked. So delving a little bit further into his data couldn’t hurt, right? Just a peek, nothing more.

A few hours later, Gordon looked back up after having gone over the whole experiment. That was fine though because most of it had been about the clones and what had gone into trying to make each one more powerful than the last – resulting instead in each clone’s death, making the real Dr. Coomer stronger – and not too, too much about Dr. Coomer himself. Other than his literal medical records which Gordon had only skimmed for the scraps of information it had on his cybernetics. Most of which seemed to have been put in after the cloning had been completed as there wasn’t much about them. It was an entirely different experiment done by an entirely different department so it made sense that there wouldn’t be much.

With a sigh, he pushed back from his desk and stood to stretch. It was just him and Dr. Coomer in the office now. Tommy had left to feed Sunkist her dinner. And about an hour ago, after falling asleep on his keyboard, Darnold, had been shooed off to go home and rest. So now would be a good time to tell Dr. Coomer, Gordon had looked through his cloning records. But… it wasn’t that important, was it? Dr. Coomer wouldn’t care so… no need to share. Gordon should just sit back down and move on.

They were almost done, would’ve been done by now if not for Gordon’s distraction but no one needed to know about that. And then as Black Mesa’s members continued pulling stuff out and bringing it here for safe keeping until the far off distant date when the facility was functional again, Gordon and friends could sort through it right as it came in. Benrey’s stuff would show up eventually, no need to go down there themselves. And then Gordon could easily get a peek at it, just a peek, nothing more. He’d skim it to answer just a few questions before giving it to Benrey to do with as he pleased. Yeah, he hadn’t just skimmed Dr. Coomer’s clone stuff but it was less personal anyway, he’d be better with Benrey’s stuff. And then if he was lucky he’d get to peek at Bubby’s records too and possibly Dr. Coomer’s cybernetics stuff as well.

“You got terribly focused on something for a bit there,” Dr. Coomer said as Gordon sat back down. “Did you find something?”

“Uh…” Gordon should tell him. He’d literally asked and it wasn’t that personal so it was fine that Gordon had looked. “Yeah… um… an experiment that was kind of interesting, wanted to know more, got a bit sucked in on accident. We’re almost done though so… yeah, just a bit more.”

“Ooh, what was the experiment?”

“Light sabers, they were trying to make a real one.” Why was Gordon lying? It was fine. Maybe it was a bit weird to have read through the experiment data without letting Dr. Coomer know about it first but not a big deal. “They failed, unfortunately.” He had indeed skimmed through such an experiment earlier so at least he wasn’t making that up too.

“Ah, a shame. I quite liked Star Wars. Perhaps that is an idea we could return to in the near future. For now though, onwards and upwards.”

With a mostly clear conscious, Gordon got back to work. He’d come clean about looking through it later, wouldn’t even have to admit that he’d lied initially. Just causally bring up that he’d come across it and had read through some of it. Not a big deal at all.

***

“It’ll take longer but if we just keep sorting through all the experiment data as it comes in, your stuff, if its intact, is bound to show up eventually.” Gordon had stayed over at work late to finish sorting through the rest of the stuff they already had only to come home with this. “And no one seems suspicious that its just us and Darnold looking through all of it so the risk of someone else seeing it first is relatively low.”

“Yeah but then I don’t get to participate in the heist.” Of course it would’ve been easier if they’d already had his records waiting to be sorted but it also would’ve been more boring. Going and finding them in the facility itself was far more interesting and would give Benrey something to do other than hang out in the basement for a couple hours a day, trying in vain to find any sort of ‘true form’ while the others to did all the real work for him.

Gordon sighed as he resumed heading into kitchen. “Feeling particularly urgent about it?”

Benrey followed, stopping in the doorway. “Uh… guess so, yeah.” Every failed shape shifting session in the basement, though nowhere near as long or arduous as the first, made him more frustrated with the question. “It’s your fault for making me care ‘bout it even though it doesn’t matter.”

Gordon opened the fridge to stare at its insides. A thing he did frequently. Why was it so hard for him to decide what to eat if he was so hungry he had to eat two or three times a day every day? “I suppose it is, huh? But I think it matters. You might not be the only one of your kind, wouldn’t that be cool to know?”

That thought had come to Benrey multiple times since Gordon had first brought it up and refused to completely dissipate no matter how many times he pushed it away. What if he was an alien with a whole alien race out there somewhere and maybe even a family he’d been taken from Though… “If I’m not the only one, there’s a whole bunch of others out there on Xen just like me, what then, huh? You gonna help me reunite with them?” No, of course he wouldn’t. Going back to Xen would be silly after the resonance cascade.

“Uh… maybe. I mean we’d been going into Xen for years just fine. I don’t even know how long, not my department, but longer than I’d been working there for sure. Not sure how we got there the first time but if we did it once we could do it again. And then once we have one means of travel there and back we just need to not fuck around with anymore resonance experiments and it’ll probably be fine.”

It would still be a risk though. And it would certainly be a lot of work just for Benrey. … No, not just for him. Gordon was a scientist, he wanted to study things and see if he could make a portal to Xen happen just to see if he could. That was fine though because it would still be partially for Benrey, even if only a little, and that would be pretty neat. Assuming he was an alien anyway and not made in the lab from ground up alien plants or something.

“So yeah,” Gordon continued as he finally selected last night’s leftovers from the fridge and moved them to the microwave. “If it turns out you’re an alien and if you wanna meet your people or whatever, I’m sure the others will be willing to help see if we can make it happen. It’ll certainly give us something to do, huh? And uh… speaking of that, I guess tomorrow we’ll meet up with the others discuss if we actually wanna make the drive to get your stuff ourselves or if it might be better to just wait.”

That trip really would be just for Benrey’s sake. No one but him would benefit from it but Gordon was seemingly still open to it. He certainly wasn’t shutting it down anyway even though he was right in it not being strictly necessary. … Probably more of him being nice because he was lonely, traumatized, and scared of being alone. Benrey shouldn’t take advantage of that. “I could walk. Long walk though so uh… you’ll have to find someone else to cuddle at night ‘til I get back. Tommy probably wouldn’t, don’t think he likes touching a whole lot, Coomer or Bubby might though. Sunkist don’t like to be held but she might lay on you if you ask nice.”

“Oh, um nah, dude, walking would takes ages. If you really don’t wanna wait, I’ll uh… drive you down there even if the others don’t wanna join us. Don’t worry about it.”

Benrey could insist and maybe even head out right now. Gordon couldn’t stop him. It would maybe even be the right thing to do since this was without a doubt Gordon’s need to please raising up. Encouraging him in it might not be good for him. … Or maybe it would be good for him and help him eventually get better about it. Benrey barely knew how his own mind and emotions worked, anyone else’s, especially a human’s, was beyond him.

Also it was a very long walk just to get to the facility and then another not as long but still long walk from there to get to the part that his data was housed in. And then all the way back doubled both. The second long walk was inevitable either way as the trams no longer worked but it’d be less boring with company – even if said company would also mean he wouldn’t be cutting as many corners – especially when cutting out the long, lonely boring first part of the trip. So… “Okay. Thanks.”

Gordon hummed an acknowledgment, patting Benrey lightly on the shoulder with his gun hand as he walked past him, bearing his sad microwaved leftovers. “Uh… play something so I got something to watch while I eat?”

“Sure.” Benrey had paused his game to come chat with Gordon upon him returning home so he had no complaints about doing so and followed. They would talk about it more tomorrow. If they decided to wait, Benrey would just go by himself and walk.

The conversation was surprisingly brief. Gordon suggested they wait, Benrey said he didn’t want to and would’ve preferred to walk instead. Ultimately they all agreed to go.

With how long the trip to the old Black Mesa facility was and how deep they were planning to delve into it to find what they were looking for, they’d be spending at least one night there, probably more like two but perhaps more. And thus Gordon and the rest of the Science Team bought what they called ‘camping gear’. No tent though, the one thing Benrey associated with the idea of camping.

“We’ll be indoors,” Gordon explained on the drive home when asked, “so a tent’s not really needed. Sleeping bags will do just fine.”

“Lame. Guess it’s not a camping trip though so… whatever.” Benrey had got to see and touch the display tents in the store anyway so not having one was fine.

Gordon sighed. “I really gotta take you out more, huh? Being less lazy would probably be for good me too so… how ‘bout we go real camping sometime? I’ve never been but how hard can it really be?”

“Ooh, where?”

“I don’t now. Maybe somewhere in Colorado. They’re just north of us and supposedly got good outdoorsy areas. Could probably go skiing or something too. …. Or uh, maybe not since you’re cold-blooded so the cold might not be fun for you. So maybe we should stick to the desert.”

“Nah, I wanna go skiing, looks fun.” And the snow, was it really as soft as it looked in games?

“All right, it’s a plan then, I guess. I’ve certainly earned a vacation. So we’ll do that sometime in the near future once were done with… you know.”

From there it wasn’t long before they reached home. The plan had been to pack as soon they were through the door but with only a little bit of prodding, Benrey got Gordon to play some games with him first. They were leaving early tomorrow morning so it was important they get some good game time in today. Gordon did eventually put his foot down though; disappointing but probably for the best.

Some of their supplies were provided by Black Mesa as the trip was being made under the guise of it being another salvage run. Benrey coming along and thus being another body to put a pack on apparently meant extra could be brought. The fact that he wasn’t planning on eating or drinking while there made it a bit annoying to be loaded up with water bottles and food rations but he was being allowed to bring the Game Boy Advance and some games in his pack too so he’d put up with it.

Benrey helped with the packing at first but Gordon apparently found issue with his packing style and shooed him away. Leaving him to just wonder around the bedroom and watch. Or he could head off to play more games until it was bedtime; Gordon could come join him again when he was done packing. But someone needed to make sure he didn’t forget anything important such as the HEV suit still sitting in its box in the closet. He could of course be planning on not taking it out until morning but he was forgetful sometimes and it should probably be put on charge tonight to make sure it was fully powered when they go to the facility so… “Don’t forget the HEV suit.”

Gordon paused and looked up at him. “Why?”

What did he mean ‘why?’ “Might be dangerous.” The deeper one went into a dungeon, the more dangerous it was after all. Not that the facility was the exact same as a video game dungeon but it was close enough that the same basic principle had to apply, right? Especially since it had during their first journey through it.

“Maybe but… no. I’d rather not. It’s heavy, a pain to put on, and probably out of power by now.”

“Yeah, that’s why should bring it out now, put it on charge so its all juiced up tomorrow.”

“I don’t have anything to charge it with and don’t really wanna bother anyway.”

Since the idea had first been brought up, Benrey had been assuming that Gordon putting the HEV suit back on was part of the plan. Unlike their first trip back when they’d only intended to venture into the living area of the facility, they were going deeper. Not as deep as they’d gone in their initial journey through the facility but said journey had proven that deeper meant more dangerous. At the time ‘more dangerous’ had translated to ‘more fun’ for Benrey. Now that he knew and cared more about how weak and fragile Gordon was though that wouldn’t be the case anymore. Especially if he was going without the one thing that had kept him alive that first journey. If he lost another limb, it was probably gone for good. … Or if he died, he wouldn’t come back.

“But uh… what if you die? That’d be a bummer.” … More than a bummer actually. Once the thought had made Benrey sad, now it was making him squirm. Was this what anxiety was? A raising tension caused by a fear that wasn’t sourced by a proper threat, just the potential of one. No wonder Gordon was always so twitchy and unable to hold still whenever he got anxious. It was a very unpleasant feeling. Benrey would like to stop feeling it … “So you should wear the HEV suit just in case.”

Gordon looked back down and continued packing. “Nope, not happening.”

“What if there’s more zombies or the lightening aliens or… or the squid guys? What if the military shows up again?” Almost anything except maybe the first was almost certain death if Gordon got hit without protection, right?

“I doubt any of that’ll happen.”

“Could though. What if we run into more… radiation stuff? That’s bad without the HEV suit for normal humans, right? Or an earthquake hits and uh… a wall falls on you or something. Probably survivable with the HEV suit but not without it.”

Gordon paused and looked up at him again, even straightening to fully tun towards him. “You really worried about me?”

“You’re weak, easy to kill, and wouldn’t come back if you died.”

His confused expression turned into the more familiar annoyed one. “Dude, there’s no need to word it like that. It sounds like a threat.”

Benrey shrugged. “Is true though. Maybe I should just go by myself after all.” In hindsight, he should’ve just gone when first deciding he wanted to look at his records. He’d have already had them by now if he had… assuming the computers they’re on were still intact anyway.

“No, no, no. We’re going with you because we already said we would. And we’re already signed up for the thing so can’t back out now.” Gordon walked around the bed to stand in front of Benrey. Looking down at him, his expression softened again. “I’ll be fine though, ‘kay? I got this,” he held up his gun hand, “and I know how to use it. And all you guys are all kinds of powerful so… I’ll be fine. If I do get hit or something, you could just bleed on me a bit and that’ll fix it. We already tested that, remember?”

“I guess so, yeah.” Logically it made no sense to be so worried and normally Benrey wouldn’t be. Worrying about things wasn’t his style. It never accomplished anything, much easier to just roll with whatever happened as it happened. None of it could permanently hurt him anyway so why concern himself much with any of it? But he wouldn’t be able to just roll with it if Gordon died or got hurt in some other permanent way that couldn’t be fixed.

Somehow Gordon had gone from a fun fascination to worming his way into Benrey’s brain and making him feel all sorts of things he didn’t normally feel. Some of those were pleasant feelings but this was very much the opposite. This feeling sucked even more than Gordon having made him care about his past and whether or not he had a true form. And that was saying something because that sucked pretty bad. Even worse would be if Benrey’s newfound anxieties did come true.

“You okay?” Gordon asked, drawing Benrey’s gaze back up to him. He was giving Benrey a mildly concerned look. … His annoyed looks were more fun. That was the problem with getting closer to him; he was annoyed with Benrey less often and worried for him more instead. People being worried for him sucked. The only concern Gordon or anyone should be feeling in regards to Benrey is concern for what kind of mischief he might get up to. But Benrey was concerned for him too, meaning they were concerned for each other. Which was stupid.

“I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t like it. It’s lame.”

“Like what?”

Part of Benrey didn’t want to say but Gordon had told him he could talk to him about things and this was certainly a thing. “Anxious.”

Gordon stared at him for a beat or two in silence before letting a slight chuckle. “Oh dude, being anxious sucks so much, believe me, I know. But uh… uh…” The mirth left his voice as he expression to something more serious. “You’re uh… really actually anxious that I might die or something?”

Benrey had just got done saying so. But by now he was mostly used to Gordon needing things repeated for him. “Yeah or getting hurt in a way that can’t be fixed again. Could lose you other hand or… a foot or something.”

“Please don’t put that thought in my head. But uh… wow, um… didn’t think you… Being anxious sucks. So how ‘bout, because I can’t put the suit back on even if I’d wanted to, if it’ll make you feel better, I stay at the back of the group?

“Middle of the group. Something could sneak up behind.”

“Okay. Middle of the group then. And I promise I’ll be careful as I can be because trust me, I don’t wanna die or lose another body party either. That help you feel a bit less anxious? I know it’s not that easy but… you know, there’s only so much we do about anxiety while still living our lives.”

“Guess it’s better than nothing.” And once they were deeper in the facility Benrey would stick close to him, make sure nothing take advantage of how weak he was.

“Good. Now, I should finish packing. But first uh… I um… uh…” He lifted his hand as if intended to touch Benrey’s shoulder or perhaps go a bit higher to his face. He did neither though as he grimaced and pulled away instead. “You’re a good friend. Thanks for uh… that, being a good friend. It’s… I appreciate it.” Before he’d even finished speaking he was back pedaling, going back around to resume packing, doing so with a bit more intensity than before.

Sweet. Benrey was a good friend. That somehow made the negative feelings Gordon inspired in him more bearable. Being anxious sucked but at least it made him a good friend. … Which also meant Gordon being worried about him, made Gordon a good friend too. It was still uncalled for and kind of annoying but maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Next Chapter

#hlvrai #frenrey #benrey #hlvrai gordon

8 notes · View notes

secret-fiction · 6 months

Text

Sonic & Tails vs the Lingering Haunt One Shot Late-Halloween Story.

On the night following Halloween, Tails takes Sonic to one of his many Auxiliary workshops. However it turns out that a new Haunted "Ware-"House has opened in the next door abandoned factory. Seeking some spooky themed fun they head inside to check it out even though it should already be closed. However inside they find signs of an out of control accident and it becomes increasingly hard to tell if it's all just part of the attraction. If it isn't, then several lives may be on the line.

Flickering yellow lights illuminated a dilapidated asphalt road ahead. Rotten utility poles creaked as they strained to hold many thick cables against a light breeze. On either side stood tall red brick buildings, warehouses and factory plants strewn with cracks. Far ahead past the flickering lights and under an old electric substation was a small shed with an uncharacteristically well sealed metal door. This whole environment offered many interesting sights of old industrial technology. So Tails wondered why it seemed Sonic didn’t agree this was a good place to take it slow.

“Yet another hidden lair, one of many scattered around the world. What sort of machinations do you undertake here?” Sonic the Hedgehog stretched his arms as he strolled onward, giving Tails a glance of his cheeky grin.

“Only the dark matters of sleep, microwave meals, and video games,” said Tails, “...and maybe some evil reverse engineering.”

Sonic chuckled, then started humming as he resumed meandering from side to side ahead of Tails. “You really chose a spooky place to put this one huh?”

“Well, I guess if you find cool mechanical computers and assembly lines scary, it is.” A nearby light fixture exploded with a pop, making Tails jump and sending a shower of sparks and glass to the ground. “...And I guess electrical fires can be scary.”

“Pfft, bring it on!” said Sonic.

Chuckling to himself, Tails rubbed his heavy eyes and pulled out a tablet device. It’d be a good idea to disarm his security system so he wouldn’t have to run a gauntlet to get to bed. Of course there was no doubt Sonic wouldn’t mind that.

As he watched his tablet attempt to contact the auxiliary workshop, Tails felt a tap on his shoulder. Sonic was pointing at the front office of the largest nearby factory. It was decorated with black and orange paint and a sign that read ‘Haunted ware-House.’

“Wanna check this place out?” said Sonic, “I’ll bet I can get through without screaming once.”

“I’d make that bet if Halloween wasn’t last night,” said Tails.

“I’m sure whoever set this up won’t mind us checking it out alone real quick,” said Sonic.

“You’re probably right.” Tails glanced at his tablet still trying to make a connection, then put it away.

The two of them pushed through the front door, it was heavy but left ajar. All sorts of custom made spooky art and decorations adorned this office, now converted into a foyer to some scary times. Many decorations were made from rusty wires and shaped into classic skeletal imagery. Most notably was one wire-skeleton slumped back in a rolling chair, its hand pointing at a dark hallway surrounded by warning tape. The creepy vibes here were actually pretty neat.

Sonic had already started wandering around investigating the wire skeletons and copying their poses. His impression of a skeleton face down, fully dead, in front of a computer terminal made Tails chuckle. But after a moment Sonic looked up at the terminal. “Oh hey this things on.”

“It is?!” Tails ran over and leaned over the wire skeleton. The crt screen in front of him was indeed on, showing a list of green text. One glance at the ports on the terminal showed it wasn’t connected to a full computer anymore. Yet the terminal still displayed a history of input commands and responses between the last user and a computer.

There were several commands to send power to machines whose names were completely corrupted. These commands ended with a mistyped command to shut everything down, followed by a notification that connection between the terminal and the computer was cut. Even then there were three more attempts to command a shut down with no response. A chill ran up Tails’ back as he noticed that at the bottom, one more shut down command was half-typed but never entered.

“Must be pretty immersive, huh buddy?” said Sonic

“Oh! Yeah, this is so clever!” Tails couldn’t help but smile as he quickly recounted everything he’d observed. He then paused for a moment to articulate better to Sonic. “Basically this feed makes it look like some terrible accident happened here! I can’t believe they left this here, who’d even pay attention to it?”

“Well evidently they got one fan,” said Sonic.

Tails giggled, Sonic was right. He now really wanted to meet whoever set up this ‘haunted ware-house’. Upon noticing the slightly ajar staff room door nearby he figured maybe he could. He hurried over and took a peek inside, it seemed to be a dressing room. Many hangers were covered with mundane jackets and clothes. Nearby old mirrors were set up over tables with an assortment of makeup.

“Tails buddy, It’s probably rude to just walk into a dressing room,” said Sonic.

Tails frowned and started to object, but he focused on the mundane clothes again. Those were definitely not the costumes actors would be wearing here. Those were their casual clothes. Several bags and other garments strewn about reinforced a growing notion in Tails’ mind that didn’t make much sense. “Wait, are the actors all still here? With no guests?”

Sonic stepped past Tails and looked around for a moment. “Any way this is another part of the immersion?”

“...Maybe? Well no, it doesn’t make sense with the theme…” said Tails, “Unless, we’re supposed to think the staff here actually fell victim to evil machines.”

“Or they actually did,” said Sonic.

They both glanced back to the dark tunnel leading into the attraction proper. A hum of electricity echoed from within the factory.

“Hello?” shouted Sonic, His voice echoed and faded into the background hum. “Anyone in here?! Is this part of the act?”

Tails felt his ear twitch as he thought he heard something else, a distant scrape, or even yell? It sounded as though it could be part of the humming or Sonics distorted echo. Even still his heartbeat elevated slightly. He then saw Sonic’s ear swivel.

“Did you hear something?” said Tails.

“I’m not sure,” said Sonic.

Tails felt his tails puff up slightly at Sonic's response. “Same here…”

“Well, let’s check it out!” Sonic turned to Tails and gave him a wide smile.

Nodding in response, Tails followed Sonic into the dark hall. If anyone was in actual trouble Sonic could help them. They moved quickly, finding just enough dim light from the buttons and bulbs on several large old terminals along the sides of the hall. Tails kept his eyes and ears focused on everything they passed. First he noticed that this hallway was ramshackled together out of spare metal sheets and bolts. Many disparate extension cords ran in and out of the walls to the terminals as well. Clearly a lot of work went into moving this equipment around… and maybe an electrical fire should be a real concern.

A crunch rang out from Tails’ foot. He stopped, and lifted his shoe to see a crushed lollipop. There were a couple other pieces of candy dropped on the ground. Not a good sign. He scanned the area closely and noticed the candy forming a messy trail down the hall. Surely this could be part of the attraction. Signs that some trick or treater had been dragged away, leaving only a trail of candy was a compelling idea. But the trail didn’t lead to a spooky set, it led to a wall.

“Sonic!” said Tails, “There’s a trail here!”

It took a second, but Sonic appeared from around a corner further down the hall. He still didn’t look worried, which was comforting. But as he opened his mouth, he let out a gasp. In an instant he glared daggers toward Tails, his quills shooting up into spikes.

Tails’ heart skipped a beat. He managed to dive to the ground and roll away in time to avoid a large shape that hit the ground behind him. It was a badnik.

It was, until Sonic slammed into it with a spin dash. Its body shattered instantly. Most of the shrapnel and Sonic himself tore through the ramshackled wall. The resulting cacophony echoed through the factory. Somewhere in Sonic's path of destruction he must’ve hit some wires as the little light they did have disappeared with a loud pop. All of the terminals and industrial control panels went silent and dark.

“Are you okay?!” said Sonic from within the hole in the wall.

“Am I okay?!” Tails ran over to the hole and pulled out his tablet. Its flashlight illuminated Sonic, who was completely tangled up in wires and warped metal. “Are YOU okay?!”

“Watch for more!” said Sonic.

Tails knew Sonic was right. He swiveled on his heels and aimed the flashlight to the ceiling. Up in the old rusty rafters hung several dark light fixtures, many industrial sized wires, and more notably some sort of rail. There was a mess of cord all along this sprawling rail line. That was some high end tech for a factory like this. It was also exciting. Scanning his light over more of the rafters revealed that the rails seemed to form a grid. He stopped his light at a trolley wheel fixture that had a cord hanging from it. It was snapped halfway down, looming over the spot the badnik fell.

“Oh.”

Sonic appeared by Tails’ side, accompanied by flying shrapnel. “Are there more?”

“No… Not yet.”

Tails leaned down and picked up a piece of the badnik. It was the head of a grabber, a spider like badnik. But some of the damage on it was old. He quickly gathered more parts of the badnik to examine the damage closely. Within a minute he had most of it laid out on the ground. It didn’t take long for him to recognize the signs of previous damage, as well as patches on its body. Then he found a cord hanging from a cavity on the badnik. It had been powered by the factory’s electricity.

“Hey bud I know you like this stuff but I think we’ve seen this one before,” said Sonic.

“We have.”

“Okay then let’s get movi-”

“No, we've seen this specific one before. You probably busted it a while ago.”

Sonic squinted, then his eyes started to widen with realization. Tails couldn’t help but smile as Sonic picked up what he was getting at.

“They made this part of the attraction?”

“Definitely,” said Tails, “It doesn’t even have its brain. It was being run from whatever this cord connects to.”

“Wait…” said Sonic, “You didn’t set all this up to scare me, did you?”

“What, no?”

“It just seems up your alley, literally and metaphorically.”

“If I was trying to scare you I wouldn’t just explain how this works yet. Besides, I’dve put it together a bit better than this.”

“Okay I believe you on the point that you’re a better engineer.”

“But, I do think this came from my stash.”

“... your what.”

“Don’t be mad.”

It didn’t take long for Sonic & Tails to run outside and to his nearby workshop. If Tails was right, then the whole haunted ware-house was being operated from his computer inside. As they reached the secure metal door on the small shack entrance he whipped out his tablet. His security system was still not responding. He growled at this, if someone shut down his security system he was supposed to get an alert about it.

“Sonic, can you use your spare key?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Have fun.”

With a woosh Sonic dashed away. Then with a delayed boom Sonic returned and slammed into the door. He bounced backward and careened through the air as the door, and the wall around it, collapsed. Tails took note that he oughta remember where he got that security door.

After Sonic shook off the impact he accompanied Tails inside. With the press of a button, the floor inside the shack lowered and became a rampway to a bunker below. The collapsed security door slid down the ramp and hit a tripwire. An alarm blared and a large net fell over the door, magnetic weights clamping it down. This was a surprise. His security system was online. Which was worse.

Luckily none of the further traps and barriers along the path to the control room stopped Sonic as he sped through. This wasn’t by design, but Tails tried not to be bothered by that right now. It wasn’t long until he saw Sonic reach the door to the control room, where he should’ve been stopped by an energy barrier boxing him in. Instead nothing happened. Great. This was a good thing. Very good.

As Sonic forced open the last door Tails ran inside past him. Someone had definitely been here. Most of the space here had been reserved for storing mostly intact badniks, but only a few pieces of scrap were left on the pallets.

“Oh shit.”

“Tails.”

Tails glared at Sonic, who was giving him a disapproving head shake. This didn’t last long as both started laughing. Things felt a little less tense.

“Soooo, what were you doing with the badniks?”

“Nothing anymore…” Tails walked across the room to an area with several desks, a foldable mattress on the ground, and a ‘modest’ computer. “Sometimes I went back to help clean places up after we chased Eggman away. Back then I still wanted to know how his badniks worked inside and out. So I brought them here and reassembled them.”

“Without turning them on, right?”

“Duh!” Tails rolled his eyes. “I took out all of their brains. But, they could still be run by direct commands if you hooked a computer up to their empty heads.”

Sonic meandered over to Tails and patted his head. This was distracting, but nice.

“So why’d you think I’d be mad?” said Sonic.

“Because someone found them. Now people might be getting hurt.”

As Tails pressed the power button on his computer, the screen lit up instantly. It didn’t need to boot up. Cool. he also found that there was no longer a password necessary to access his operating system. Nice, very convenient. Tails knew he must’ve been glowering because Sonic nudged him and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Well I know it’s not your fault.”

“How, my security system didn’t work at all apparently.”

Sonic pointed to a nearby wall. Though it was dark, now that Tails paid attention he could see a large forklift shaped hole in the wall. The hole led directly into the dark basement of the next door factory. A bundle of cords laid across the floor to Tails’ computer, all plugged into a port on the back.

“Huh.”

“Workplace accident,” said Sonic, “go figure.”

The solution here was obvious, unplug the cords. But, it’d be prudent to check what they were doing first. He dug around the task manager for a bit before finding a terminal emulator running. “Wait what?” Opening the window revealed a screen similar to that on the old terminal in the office, a list of green text. The last output from whatever computer he was connected to claimed to be running a ‘plant containment simulation.’

“So can you shut it down or do I gotta smash some stuff?” said Sonic.

“...Could you try cutting the power lines outside?”

With a woosh Sonic ran outside the workshop bunker. A second later Tails heard a distant snap. An echoing crack and winddown sound emanated from the tunnel into the factory. Then a following powerup sound echoed out accompanied by several bells and alarms. The piercing ringing made his ears twitch as he checked the terminal window again.

‘ALERT. AUXILIARY POWER ONLINE.”

“How about you don’t,” said Tails.

With a gust of wind Sonic reappeared behind Tails. “Didn’t work huh?”

“I’ll keep trying here, you should probably-”

“Find if anyone’s in trouble, got it!” said Sonic before he ran down the dark tunnel.

“TURN ON YOUR COMMUNICATOR!” shouted Tails.

Tails’ wrist beeped, and Sonic's voice replied over the comm, “Oh yeah, gotcha!”

Typing at an admittedly incredibly fast rate, Tails attempted many generic help commands to find out more about what he was hooked up to. In short order he found it responded with a new window labeled security mainframe. It was sending a constant stream of indecipherable data. As he squinted at this, the computer automatically opened several more windows. Then in quick succession they closed. It was a very good thing he didn’t keep anything important on here.

Distant echoes of crashes put pressure on him. Then he noticed outputs from the terminal window with each crash, ‘power redirected.’ This usually accompanied a new window opening on his computer that spat out garbage text or fuzzy visuals. “Hey Sonic, can you stop breaking the badniks for a second?”

“If they stop jumping me,” said Sonic over the comm, “can you get some lights on in here?”

“Uh, probably,” Tails entered a couple more commands, and suddenly a wave of hanging lights lit up down the tunnel and inside. “There you go.”

“...Buddy, how many badniks did you have?”

“Why?” Tails was refocused on his computer as he now managed to find a window that opened up a security camera feed. It was fuzzy but he could make out Sonic on the floor, he was staring up at the ceiling. “Uh, hang on.” Tails flipped between cameras, each with incredibly fuzzy feed, some completely black. All were looking at Sonic from different angles. “Hey, are there any cameras looking at the ceiling?”

“...There aren’t any cameras,” said Sonic.

“Wha-oh…” Tails felt his hands shake. But not from fear. “Okay okay, I’m patched into the badniks. Let me have a look around.”

Tails started flipping through every available feed. Most were in the ceiling above Sonic and the ramshackled haunted-house path. As he found another black screen and went on to the next feed his computer let out a garbled noise. He paused, then went back to the black screen. The garbling resumed. Tails pressed his ear close to the speaker. Then he realized it wasn’t coming from his speakers, it was playing over the factory intercom.

“Tails, what is that?” said Sonic.

“I don’t know,” said Tails.

Suddenly a voice could be made out through the garbling. “Hey! Is someone Here? We need Help!!”

As the voice spoke a garbled ringing escalated through the intercoms, eventually drowning everything else out. The piercing noise made Tails fold his ears down. Since Sonic’s inside it must be worse for him. Then with a loud pop, the intercom, and evidently the lights, went out. A fuse must’ve blown.

“Tails! Where are they? Tails!?” said Sonic over the comm.

“I don’t know!” said Tails.

Down the tunnel Tails heard the echoes of combat resume. Flipping through the feed on his computer revealed the badniks chasing Sonic as he ran through the floor. Motobugs rolled after him as buzz-bombers swung down at him from the ceiling.

“Shit, sorry Tails!” said Sonic, as one by one the visual feeds cut out.

As before, the workshop computer went haywire. Windows opened all over making it impossible to use. Still he managed to reach the terminal window again and attempted several shutdown commands. Each was met with ‘unknown command.’ A growl rose from his throat. He wasn’t able to help at all from here. Screw it then. He reached around the back and pulled the cords out of the port on his computer.

The computer crashed of course. But in the factory all of the old machinery began turning on. With the sound of engines, the song of the factory drowned out everything else. This was bad, it was dark and now Sonic couldn’t hear. Why did the power redirect like that anyway? What was turning everything on? Tails almost dropped the bundle of cords in his hand, then looked at them closely. Oh, duh!

“Sonic! I’m gonna find the main computer, hold on!” shouted Tails into his communicator.

Sonic's response was completely muffled by the running machinery. Right, too loud.

Plugging his ears with the closest rags he could find, Tails ran through the tunnel and into the factory. He kept his light on the bundle of cords as he followed it along the wall. This path took him behind the set of the haunted ware-house and up a pole to the ceiling. With his spinning tails he flew up into the rafters. There were many more cables here wrapped along the ceiling like old corroded roots. But with the light of his tablet, Tails could discern the bundle of newer cords from the rest.

Ducking and weaving past cables and rails, Tails heard the occasional crash of Sonic breaking something below him. He glanced down at the dark for a second, seeing only bits of action from flying sparks. Suddenly his body hit a net of cables. He yelped and flailed, nearly dropping his tablet as his tails tangled up in the cables.

“Ow ow ow!” said Tails as he scrambled to grab the cables above him. Soon he got a grip of one and shined the light on his tails. The knot wasn’t that bad. What was bad was the eyes of a buzz bomber on the other side of the mass of cables.

“...Please don’t.”

The Buzz-Bomber came to life and fluttered only one in-tact wing. As it charged into the cables, Tails gasped and dropped his tablet. Several cables snapped, allowing the Buzz-Bomber to slam its body into him. They both fell down toward a spinning machine of many spikes and gears. But before they met that fate the cord on the Buzz-Bomber came taut and sent them both swinging back up into the Rafters. Tails kept a tight grip on its thorax as it carried him back up and onto a rusty beam.

Now on stable footing, Tails kept hold of the Buzz-Bomber while reaching for the cable hooked into its head. It glared at him while trying to fly with its single wing. Tails gave it a smile back. “Thanks, and sorry.” With a hard yank he pulled out the cable and the badnik went limp.

Now back to that dang bundle of cords. Glancing around, another flash from below showed Tails a large utility tunnel into the ceiling in front of him. Most of the cables and cords, old and new, ran up it.

“HEY! Up here!” shouted Tails.

Despite the deafening machinery and Tails’ earplugs, Sonic shouted back, “‘Kay! One sec!”

With a running leap Sonic landed onto the beam next to Tails. An odor of burnt rubber accompanied him. His quills were clearly covered in oil and fine metal dust. That had to be uncomfortable, and yet Sonic just casually stretched like normal.

The two of them looked up the utility tunnel and saw more darkness. Spooky. Undeterred, Tails took Sonic's hands and flew him up the tunnel, being mindful of anything in his path.

At the top, they were met with a large open room. In the middle was some sort of dark mass. From within the mass came a series of fuzzy speaker sounds. It’d be really nice to have a light here. As Tails waited and tried to discern what they were looking at, Sonic walked closer. Suddenly a series of red lights lit up the chamber, making Tails jump. Seeing Sonic stiffen up made him feel less embarrassed. But the mass of cables hanging from an Eggman capsule in the ceiling made Tails feel less relaxed.

Inside the capsule was a small group of mobians. Most of them seemed to be unconscious, but one jackal looked down at them. “H-hey! Watch out!” she said, muffled through some kind of speaker.

“Hang on!” said Sonic. He immediately dashed a lap around the room and jumped up to the tangled up capsule. Then as soon as he touched the wires he seized up. With a flashing arc of electricity Sonic was sent flying off of the capsule.

Heart jumping in his throat, Tails flew after Sonic and caught him just feet from the ground. He could feel Sonic grip his hand, which was a relief. It shouldn’t have been, Sonic is tough.

“I’m good. But how do we get them out?” said Sonic.

“Uh…” Tails looked over the wires, they seemed to lower down from the capsule on the ceiling and form a curtain shrouding the middle of the chamber. He took a step toward it. The wires shook and parted, but nothing clearly came out from underneath. Yet cables on the ground shifted around. Each one getting nudged was closer to Tails and Sonic.

“Sonic.”

“I see it.”

Tails stepped aside and watched Sonic spindash in that direction. With a loud bong he bounced back. For the moment of impact a much larger than usual chameleon shaped badnik was visible. It was a Newtron, but with bounce pads on its head and back. It continued crawling toward Tails as it returned to invisibility. They could handle this.

Sonic spun around and hit the Newtron a few more times from each side. Eventually he landed in its path and waited. After a few more steps, the Newtron reappeared with its mouth open toward Sonic who immediately rolled at it. But instead of firing a projectile, a vacuum in the Newtrons mouth sucked Sonic right up. Its tail extended to the curtain of wires and cables, where Sonic was shot into a vacuum tube of some kind and pulled up to the capsule.

Tails’ mouth was wide open as he watched Sonic get dropped into the pile of people inside the wrapped up capsule.

“Tails,” said Sonic through the muffling of the speaker, “Coulda warned me that Badnik could do that.”

“I didn’t build that one!” said Tails.

“Okay! But you can handle this!”

Tails made eye contact with the large modified Newtron before it turned invisible again. His heart started pounding more, but he didn’t need to panic. This thing wasn’t that fast. He watched for any cables hooked into its invisible body as he got some distance away. Then he saw it. One black cable rising into the air, the end of it fading into invisibility. He let out a slow breath, then dashed toward it. Using the momentum he flew up into the air right at the cable. But as he almost reached it, he hit the bumper on the Newtrons head.

Tails yelled as he careening up toward the tangled up capsule. Heart pounding, he swung around and used his spinning tails as a brake. His shoes stopped inches short of the exposed high-voltage wires. Looking up he made eye contact with Sonic, and gave him a shaky thumbs up.

“Watch out!!!”

Tails looked down and saw the Newtron visible again, its jaws open. A powerful vacuum of wind into its mouth started to pull Tails down. He clenched his teeth and spun his tails as hard as he could. But the wind continued dragging him down. There had to be a way out! He was smarter than this. Yet he wasn’t able to fly himself away and the vacuum showed no signs of losing power.

A series of loud bangs above Tails got his attention. It was Sonic, kicking the side of the capsule repeatedly. It felt awful to make Sonic worry like that. But as they made eye contact Sonic gave him a wink. With one last kick one of the wires fell loose, its torn end casting sparks around. That could work! Tails let the wire fall past him, then stopped spinning his Tails.

Sparks flew as the Newtron choked on the hot wire. The vacuum in its throat stopped, and Tails landed right on its snout. It made eye contact with him, so he gave it a wink. He then jumped off of its snout and dived toward the cable in its head. The Newtron turned its body invisible again, but Tails managed to reach the cable. He gripped it as hard as he could and tried to fly up, but it was plugged in tight. Growling as he strained, Tails felt the Newtron trying to shake him loose. If it hit him with those bounce pads he’d be back at square one.

That was an idea though. Tightening his grip, Tails bit into the cable. Then he let himself drop. As soon as his feet hit the bounce pad the force shot him away, putting strain on his arms and jaw. Strain the cable couldn’t take. Hearing a snap, he opened his eyes to see himself swinging away from the now powerless Newtron. He’d done it.

Tails couldn’t help but shout a muffled cheer through the cable in his teeth. This was interrupted by an impact into the ceiling, and a subsequent flop down to the ground. Taking only a moment to catch his breath, Tails cheered and laughed some more. Soon he saw Sonic standing over him with a relieved look on his face. Tails started to stand, but Sonic lifted him up under his arms.

“You good pal?” said Sonic.

“Yep!” Tails wagged his tails despite the soreness in his body, “just jostled.”

“Good! Let's get everyone out of here then!”

While the others in the capsule were drowsy and thirsty, no one was badly hurt. The costumes most of them wore implied they must’ve been here since Halloween the previous night. One problem emerged as they got ready to lead everyone out though, the factory floor below was still running with dangerous machines everywhere.

“Hey, do any of you know where the computer running all of this is?” said Tails.

“...Uh, yeah.” A dark green jackal lady with grease matted fur walked forward while rubbing the back of her head. She wore overalls that were pierced with metal shrapnel and blood stains.

“Are you okay?!” said Tails.

“What? Oh yeah, it's a costume.”

She led Tails to a wall next to an elevator on the other side of this upper chamber. A panel moved aside easily, revealing a massive computer room. Tails felt his jaw drop in awe, it was beautiful. Rows of ancient electrical computers the size of sheds buzzed and clicked. At the far back wall was one large control panel with a button for every function. As Tails approached and saw several new components plugged into this panel he realized what the problem was.

“You… you supplemented the processing power of the factory with computer chips from badniks?!”

“Yeah, I thought they’d be cool with it,” said the Jackal.

“That’s actually super cool!” Tails looked over at Sonic, “But reckless! So reckless. Irresponsible.”

“Also maybe don’t steal stuff,” said Sonic.

“Everything here’s abandoned,” said the Jackal, “also you look kinda like Sonic the Hedgehog.”

“Dude my computer was obviously way newer than all this,” said Tails. “Did you really think my workshop was part of this factory?”

“I mean it was full of old broken stuff,” said the Jackal.

Tails shook his head and crawled into the control panel computer. It wasn’t hard to find the power supply and unplug it. With that, the entire factory shut down with a whine. He looked at the badnik computers for a moment then left them plugged in as he crawled back out.

“Okay, these Badniks should stop trying to kill us with assembly lines now,” said Tails.

“Oh before you guys go, did our Haunted Ware-House scare you at all?” said the Jackal.

“At most it was startling sometimes,” said Sonic, “but I’m used to danger, so I’m not a good metric for that.”

“I did like the aesthetic!” said Tails.

With the danger passed, Sonic and Tails lead the staff and kids out of the factory. In that time Tails grilled the staff more about how they’d set all this up. Apparently the Newtron sucking people into a capsule was supposed to be the main attraction. But then it didn’t release anything it had sucked up afterwards like it was supposed to. Even still this ‘Haunted Ware-House’ seemed pretty neat, maybe they could run a safer version next year.

But not at this sight, as within minutes of everyone escaping out the front, the old factory became engulfed with flames. A strong scent of burnt rubber as it started told Tails exactly why. “Electrical fires spread scary fast. Neat.”

“I guess the true haunting was the safety violations we made along the way,” said the Jackal.

“This is one awesome fire though,” said Sonic. “But yeah, you all could’ve died if we hadn’t showed up.”

#Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog Fanfiction #Sonic Fanfiction #Sonic #Fanfic #Miles Tails Prower #Sonic the Hedgehog #Tails the Fox #Halloween Fanfic #Halloween #Secret-Fiction #My Writing

15 notes · View notes