This one felt a little Dean Archer-ish:
“Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away”
Sometimes Dean pulls away, you’re not even sure if he realises he’s doing it but he is. You know he can get like this sometimes, that he recedes into himself. It usually starts small, little things that go unnoticed until you start to put them together.
He stops sleeping, starts going for runs more often. He’s short with you, abrasive. When he fucks you, it is fucking, something to chase away whatever ghosts dog his footsteps.
When you try to talk to him about it he shuts you out, he starts to work more, he’s home less. The relationship is coming apart at the seams and he has no interest in preventing that. The man you fell in love with, he doesn’t seem to exist anymore. There’s just this stranger that barely exists in the same space.
“You’re drifting away from me.” You say one night when the two of you are washing the dishes together. “I don’t know how to help you, I don’t know what you need…”
He sighs as he tosses the dishcloth onto the kitchen counter before he leans against it and crosses his arms over his chest.
“It’s ok.” You say as you swallow down the emotion that wells in your chest because this distance it hurts, it hurts more than you could ever have imagined. “If you can’t talk about it, I understand but I want you to know that I see it, that I’m here for you…”
It’s those words that break through, the fact that you want to help, that you’re still here despite the fact he’s treated you so fucking terribly.
“It’s the PTSD.” He says finally, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “I’ve been having flashbacks, nightmares, when I try to sleep…”
He trails off and you know what he’s not saying.
I’m scared of what I’ll see.
“Dean,” You whisper, your fingertips brushing over this grizzled cheek and he flinches at your touch because he doesn’t deserve your warmth, your kindness. “Dean, will you look at me?”
His jaw clenches but he does, he meets your gaze and you everything in those eyes, the pain he’s going through, the trauma. He’s been dealing with this for so long, trying to be strong but he doesn’t realise he isn’t on his own anymore, that he has you, that he always has you.
“I love you.” You tell him, your nose trailing along the length of his. “That doesn’t change because you’re unwell.”
“This isn’t like having a cold.” He tells you as if you didn’t know, as if you haven’t dealt with this yourself because the shit you see, the death, it weighs on you.
“No, it’s more insidious.” You say. “I know what it does to you, how it takes and it takes until you’ve got nothing left, until you feel like you’re alone in the world because you don’t want it to start bleeding onto other people.”
He forgets that you’ve been there too, that there are nights where he’s held you, cradled you because you see the faces of the people you cut up when you sleep, you dream about them.
“You are not alone in this.” You tell him fiercely. “When you can’t fight, I will fight for you. I will always fight for you.”
“Baby…” He whispers, his voice breaking just a little. “I… I think I need help.”
The admission, it costs him. You can see just how much as the tears leak down his cheeks because your man, he never cries, not even on his wedding day. Your lips brush over the salt and you can taste it as your cradle his face between your hands.
“We’ll get you some help.” You promise him. “We’ll come up with a plan and we’ll get you some help.”
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All About You: Dean Archer x Reader (NSFW)
Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @helsinkibaby @hufflepuffgirl
Dean doesn’t do this. He doesn’t fuck in storage closets in the hospital where he works. He leaves that to med students who've seen too many reruns of Grey’s Anatomy. However right here, right now he just can’t help himself because it’s been a few days since he last saw his wife and he’s been needing to blow off a little steam.
Your hands are in his scrubs, bypassing his underwear, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He’s leaking already, moaning into your mouth as your thumb spreads it across the tip of his dick.
Your lips take a detour, kissing a heated trail along his jaw until you find that spot, that deviant space just under the hinge of his jaw that makes him thrust into your hand as he says your name.
“Don’t you dare make me come in my pants...” He mutters, his words cut off as you bite down just a little, making his hips jump.
He feels your smile against his skin before you kiss lower, lips brushing over his neck, his chest, his collarbone before you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his scrubs down along with you.
“That isn’t what I meant...” He tries to chide you but your lips are already enveloping his cock, your tongue teasing over the head causing his breath to hitch.
Christ you feel good, he’s almost forgotten what it’s like to be loved by you.
His fingers gently pull the hair tie from your hair, allowing it to fall across your features and something just clicks, you’re not the M.E anymore. You’re his wife, the one that he’s barely seen in almost a week.
You take him deeper as his fingers tangle in your hair, his head tipping back against the wall. He won’t last long, not after all this time apart. He can feel that tingle of ecstasy at the base of his spine as your palms come to rest on his hips, pinning them to the wall.
He will never admit it to anyone else but he loves when you force his pleasure, when you coax it out of him. It’s hard for him to get his head out of work, to forget the responsibility that comes with being Head of the E.D. This is the only way to do it sometimes, to remind him he’s Dean, not Doctor Archer.
“Sweetheart.” He warns you as the rapture tears through his synapses like an IED, stealing away every inch of his sanity.
All he can focus on is you in that moment, the hot, tight sensation of your mouth as he spills his release down your throat. He tries to catch his breath as you draw away, your hands lightly guiding his scrubs back up his hips before you tuck him back in.
“You’ve been stressed lately.” You say by way of explanation. “It’s not good for you.”
“You can just say that you missed me .” He says with a knowing look.
“I thought showing you was a better use of our very limited time together.” You tell him as his watch goes off, signifying the end of his break. He sighs as his hands come to rest on your waist drawing you against him. Your perfume floods his nervous system, the sensual scent of rosewater washing through his senses as he breathes you in.
“I wish I could return the favour.” He says regretfully, his fingertips teasing over the elastic of your own scrubs. “Because I really would like to.”
“I know.” You tell him, your palms coming to rest on his chest. “But…”
“Tonight.” He says, his forehead coming to rest upon yours as he clasps your hand to his heart. “I’ll grab takeout on the way home, run a bath, I can use that massage oil that you like…”
“That sounds like heaven.” You say and he can tell from the look in your eyes that he’s not the only one that needs a break. The past week has been gruelling for the both of you. He should have checked in more, he thinks, made himself more available.
“Tonight is gonna be all about you.” He promises as his watch goes off again, signalling he’s needed elsewhere. “I’ll make sure if it.”
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Scream Factory has revealed the specs for its The Shining (1997) Blu-ray, which will be released on March 12. Displeased with Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation, Stephen King took it upon himself to write the script based on his 1977 novel.
Mick Garris (The Stand, Sleepwalkers) directs the three-part miniseries. Steven Weber, Rebecca De Mornay, Melvin Van Peebles, Courtland Mead, and Wil Horneff star.
The Shining has been newly scanned in 2K from the interpositive with DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Stereo. Special features are listed below.
Special features:
Audio commentary by writer Stephen King, director Mick Garris, actors Steven Weber and Cynthia Garris, and select crew
11 additional scenes
Jack Torrance (Steven Weber) and his family (Rebecca De Mornay and Courtland Mead) move into the sprawling, vacant Overlook Hotel to get away from it all. Away from the alcoholism that derails Jack’s writing career. Away from the violent outbursts that mar Jack’s past. But Jack’s young son Danny knows better. He possesses a psychic gift called the shining — a gift the hotel’s vile spirits desperately want.
Pre-order The Shining.
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