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boogiewrites · 3 years

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Never Break the Chain Pt. 3

Part 3 of 5

Characters: Javier Peña x OFC

Summary: Esme keeps her distance and Javier's obsession gets worse. She decides to let him find her and they're both faced with the hard questions they've been suppressing for decades.

Warnings/Tags: Reunited Lovers. Angst. Yearning. Difficult adult conversations. Regret. Nostalgia.

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Steve stood staring and ignored by a red-eyed and greasy Peña still hunched over a desk with boxes of old files piling up around him. The boxes obscured half of him, stacks that started on the desktop, now on the floor. His nose twitched from the dust and his eyes burned from lack of sleep.

“Did you ever leave?” Murphy moves a few boxes to sit on his desk that had been commandeered for Pena’s obsession.

As if snapping out of a trance, Javier looks up and around, seeing morning light again through the high windows in the cool-hued room that lacked any warmth in its sterile choice of furnishings. “Guess not.” he yawns and looks back down at the work he’s done.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Thanks.” he gruffs out and stretches, a noise that half groan and half yawn escapes him.

“Did you at least find anything?”

“Plenty.” he pauses and rubs his face. “Unfortunately.” he pushes a legal pad full of scribbled notes with dates.

“These...all her?”

“I think so.”

“Damn Javi, you sure can pick ‘em.” he grins at the expense of his partner.

“She always said she was gonna be rich.”

“The Lucchia Heist?” Steve snorts in amusement.

“Potentially. She’s…” he lets out a slightly crazed but hushed laugh. “She’s fuckin’ good.” he covers his face before resting his head on his palm, supported by the desk. “I’d bet my badge she’s framed more people than I’ve even had time to find. Had a million aliases. Been everywhere from Corpus Christi to Lima. I’ve traced her down the continent.”

“And she landed right in your backyard.” Steve tosses the roughed-up papers, months of research, back in front of him. “You’re not a man who believes in fate are ya Javi?” he smirks.

“She said she didn’t know I was here.” a mumbled response as he begins putting away his research.

“And you believe her?”

He focuses on removing the evidence of his fascination, putting it away in a drawer that’s near full and dedicated to her. He stops and pauses, a thoughtful expression before answering, “I might be another sucker in the long list she’s got but... yeah, I do.”

-----

With the aged bulbs in the generic hotel room, the woman with him was easy to push out of his mind. He outstretched his arm as she pulled on her panties with a jump.

“Who is Esme?” she asks softly, attempting to make a connection with a man she felt she almost knew with as many times as they’d been together.

He didn’t look her way and motioned the hand with the money in it again.

“You’ve had your nights before but… the past few months you’ve... and now tonight? Should I be worried?”

“No,” he states with a bite. It wasn’t directed at her but himself. He tossed the money onto the bed and moved to light a cigarette. “You shouldn’t be no matter how I act.”

She holds in a sigh, a grimace on her face as she pockets the money and dresses. “Are you su-”

“What do you want to hear?” he turns his head sharply her way, brow low, but not aggressive enough to make her fear him.

She knew men, and she knew his problem was a woman, not the job like it usually was. Javier didn't get emotional over work when they were together. He would be rougher sometimes, softer others... but a disconnect was far from the usual. He was a client she was glad to hear from. He treated her with respect, he looked her in her eyes and handled her as if he cared about how she felt while they fucked. It was rare but entirely welcome. She curses herself silently for caring. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” she answers curtly. “You’re right.” she nods and gathers her things. “I’ll go.”

“It’s not you-” he begins with his head down before she passes him at the foot of the bed.

“I know. It’s not my business. It’s... I know women. It's hard to believe you would have trouble with one.” she lets out a smile to break the tension and his face doesn’t tell her if she succeeded or not. “You know where to find me.” she says kindly, something he felt he didn’t entirely deserve at the moment. He could hear her heels patting down the hallway outside when she left, fading until she was down the elevator and gone.

He gives his forehead a hard rub, nails scratching into his scalp before taking a long drag. “Fuck.” he exhales loudly to an empty room. He couldn’t get her out of his head.

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

The heat was something he had grown up with, he never found that part of Colombian weather to be difficult. But the humidity, that was a different experience. He quickly lost any self-consciousness about the sweat showing through his shirts, everyone else's looked the same. Propped against a stucco wall that was radiating the sun's warmth into his back, he partook in his condensation-covered beer bottle and his favorite public activity, people watching. It was an art form for him, once an amusing pastime that he made a living off now. There was no short of things to look for, the Festival of Flowers was in full swing and everyone was crowded into the streets. It was loud, a bit chaotic, and exactly the sort of crowd he felt comfortable observing.

The Discoteca a few streets down was powerful, sending music out over the radios in stalls and stores dotted along the streets surrounding it. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but that didn’t stop Javier from having an annoyed expression. Songs from his past would play casually, feeling anything but in his head. He knocked back the rest of his drink and promptly got another every time a memory was triggered.

It had been almost a year now since he’d seen Esme. From what he’d learned, he wasn’t surprised. She could keep playing the phoenix forever. She could’ve been across the world by now and he was powerless to pursue her. Of all the possibilities, he still held onto the statistical probability that she was still around. She had good connections here, it made sense for her to stay. This unignorable fact led his obsession to be indulged by his profession, his paranoia fueled by his keen observational skills. A handful of times he would’ve bet he'd seen her. Sometimes he could follow, others he couldn't. Either way, he ended up at a brothel and with a woman who may look like her but wasn’t. The boisterous festival crowds would be a perfect place for her to be anonymous, the plumes of flowers were cover to disappear in plain sight. He wouldn’t admit to himself, but he was feeling hopeful. Or was it the alcohol?

Esme, with her head heavy from the large crown of flowers she wore, matching her brightly colored traditional dress skipped and hopped her way across the rooftops of the lively streets. She held the flowers to her head and jumped from pitch to pitch with her woven shoes. She knew this part of the city in light or dark. Not just for her safety but for means to get the drop on others. Her work with the cartel made sure she was knowledgeable in such things. But it also came in handy for a specific reason she’d been indulging in for almost a year now.

He was moping around his usual watering hole for this part of town. She sat with her head on her hands, between two flower pots, watching Javier from the safety of the rooftop across the street. She’d seen him many times, mostly taking home girls, or spoiling them with nice hotels for the night. Since she now knew the Pena she’d heard of was HER Pena, she asked the local sex workers about him and she wasn’t let down with the gossip they shared. She found out he’d been looking for her, not that any of them knew she was this infamous woman the playboy was hung up on. After a polite offer of employment, she dipped out and felt an odd satisfaction in what he’d become. It wasn’t ideal by any means but he was a good man. That was more than she would’ve guessed he’d become with the company he kept.

Each song from their past hit their ears at the same time, both suppressing a sigh as it floated down the streets, imagining a simpler time with one another. She’d missed him. Just as he had, she’d tried to drink and fuck the pain away for a bit but it didn’t work as well for her. She was left feeling nostalgic and downright amorous about him, seeing him lean, strong, and handsome against that wall. Sweat beading down his neck like it did on the bottle he held. She wanted to pop those buttons right off his shirt and- she knew it wasn’t smart to indulge in such fantasies. But he was the only man left that she even cared to think about when he wasn’t directly in her line of sight. She wanted to see him again. Was she willing to throw away months of laying low for a rendezvous? The summer sun made her feel young, the songs pumping blood to places, like her heart, it didn’t normally flow anymore. It made her feel young again. And at this point, it was a welcome and sought-after feeling.

——

A group of dancing girls covered in flowers with wide sweeping skirts made their way down the street. They wore smiles and the brightest of colors, dancing with each other and passersby as carts of flowers were pushed around them. Esme had been in South America long enough to know how to blend in. It was easy considering she didn’t look like a gringo. Her Latin heritage assured a degree of anonymity and mixing in, adding in the factor of whirling skirts and a blur of color from flowers she melded right in. Her chameleon skills were enviable but Javier’s observation skills were better.

Of course, he’d look at the group of beautiful women flouncing towards him. He seldom passed a woman he didn’t take a second glance at. As he glanced over their faces, to see if any had been friendly to him previously, the set of emerald green eyes grabbed him as they sat deep-set in a heart-shaped face he used to know intimately. Like a dog with a scent caught in his nose, he perks up, bottle discarded as he takes a step towards the street. She separates herself, a clear view of each other for a moment before a smile as bright as the sun beating down on them meets his gobsmacked expression. For only a moment there’s an unbroken line of sight and he instinctively pursues. With a bite of her lip that was a mix of flirtation excitement and a challenge, she spins on her heel and runs to an alleyway. He was fast on his feet behind.

This was where she felt at home, fast and light on her feet through small spaces and over walls. She desired to test Javi, combined with her caring about anyone seeing them, luring him to a safe space. She could hear his grunts and calls of her name like it was a swear as she’d climb and hop drain pipes and fences. All he could hear was the occasional heavy breath and giggle coming from her. They moved away from the busy streets, up higher over every sketchy rooftop, and eventually came to climb onto a secluded and blocked-off rooftop together.

“You've still got it Javi.” she laughs breathlessly, hands on her knees from the far side of the roof he’s slid onto.” her face beams his way, a sheen of sweat catching in the sun as she fluffs back her hair.

“I never lost it,” he grunts, dusting off his jeans. “Can’t afford to.” he pauses and regains his cocky posture.

“You look good.” she offers as a compliment, both closing the space between them to face off.

He takes his time, looking her up and down, unsure of her motives, yet she'd always had that wild streak. He used to love that about her. Now it made it hard to read. “So do you.” he presents in response to her out-of-place compliment.

“It's nice to finally see you up close.” her face is relaxed, too relaxed in his opinion. She touches his chest, hands light on his collar and moving up to tuck back the messed pieces of dark hair from his sideburns.

“That mean you’ve seen me from afar?” he stands stoically still, letting her touch him, not ready to reciprocate.

“Possibly,” she smirks, eyes trailing over his now-adult facial features. His brow had hardened, his jaw rounder but still sharp. Her favorite part, his nose was now proportionate and he was even more attractive up close. She lets a small sigh slip, dedicating his handsome face to memory. “Couldn’t let you pick up on my location could I?”

“Is that why you knocked me out?”

She lets out a chuckle and pats his chest. “That was… an unfortunate mistake on your behalf and a fortunate one for me. I have laced lipstick I wear during jobs. Easy to kiss a man and get away. Less messy than shooting. And far quieter.”

“Poison lipstick…” he nods thoughtfully.

“I’ve spent years perfecting it, dosing myself with tiny amounts to have immunity. Took a note from the Renaissance covert killers.” she smiles proudly. “I’m very proud of it.”

“You should be,” he admits begrudgingly. “I’ve looked up your work. It’s… impressive.”

“That means a lot coming from you. Your career has been notable as well.”

“Looks like we both got what we wanted, huh?” The response was bleeding with sarcasm.

She bites her lip, her shoulders slumping just enough for him to notice. “It is what we said we wanted.” her voice was softer now, less playful and confident as he sees the lump in her throat bob up and down. He lets her sit with her words for a moment, seeing a passing sadness behind her eyes. They seemed even brighter green than he remembered. But memories aren’t always honest.

“Where have you been?” a demand, not much of a sweet inquiry.

“If you’ve looked at my records then you know already. “

“This past year. Where have you been?"

“In Colombia.” She gives a subtle shrug.

“So I don’t get an answer?”

“You want the longitude and latitude? I can’t give you exact locations so you can know where to find people.” She frowns.

“You think I give a shit about that?” His brow furrowed and his head tilts. She’s caught off guard by his defensiveness. “The shit I deal with… a couple of stones means nothing. I want to know about you. That’s why I asked where you had been. Not who you’d been with.”

She felt scolded. It wasn’t something she was used to. Still, he was the only man who could pull it off. “I have a place in the mountains I stay at on occasion. I float around and do jobs. There’s no specific place.”

“You have a place here and you couldn’t come find me?” He sounded almost hurt.

“I can’t have anyone know we know each other. They’d kill me. Kill you.” She knew he was accusing her of not caring. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.” She finally averts her eyes, a vaguely familiar ache in her chest growing.

He lets out a harsh laugh. “Should’ve thought about that twenty years ago when I thought you were dead.” He spits out. He sees the hurt in her eyes and he takes a moment to move her hands from him, and take a ragged breath. “You’ve been SO close this whole time. And I didn’t know…” he clenches his jaw and looks away to the horizon. Readjusting his posture he swings his head back her way and flares over her, an accusing finger in her face. “I can’t take this... you running around and not knowing SHIT about it.”

With sad eyes but a firm expression she swallows. “You used to get possessive like this. I remember… I’d-” Her voice is breathy and her hand moves to remove his from her face, a gentle hold that he answers harshly.

Grabbing her wrist, her eyes widen as he stares her down. “Don’t fucking tease me, Esme.”

Her brow furrowed quickly as she tries to tug away.

“I could take you in right now you know. For so many reasons.”

“You wouldn’t though.”

“Would I not?”

She stares with wide eyes that would’ve made him drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness when he was young. His worst fear was to hurt her back then. Now it was her getting hurt from her own actions.

“You have no idea the hell you put me through, do you? All this time not knowing for sure. And you’ve raised from the dead and think you can fuck with a man's head like this?” She could feel the bite of his words as he spoke quietly to her, letting her wrist go after he made his point. “Do you even give a shit or is this another game you’re running? Are you conning me too? Is there some guy who’s fallen for this shit somewhere with a gun on me right now?”

“How could you say that? I’d never.” She holds back a stutter in her throat. She felt something she hadn’t in a very long time, the sting of tears in her eyes. He regretted his outburst as soon as he saw it. He just had so many years of anger and hurt built up it was hard not to explode.

“Did you miss me at all?” His voice a whisper now, eyes wider and opening up like he was trying to.

It broke her to see him like this now. This stoic figure was just a shell covering that young man she left. She didn’t know it would hold onto him this long, that he did love her that much. “If you saw the wear on my rosary you'd have your answer. I prayed you to be safe. For you to get what you wanted.” She clears her throat and tries not to break.

“All I ever wanted was you.” A clear and plain statement. It was a fact.

“I had to make my own life.” She said it as an excuse and she hated the way it sounded coming from her. It made her feel weak. “You wanted yours.”

“We were kids. We didn’t know what the fuck we wanted.” He huffs out a strangled laugh.

She takes a deep breath and her time in answering. “We were. We didn’t.”

It was an admission of guilt on both their behalfs. They got what they said they wanted but was it really what made them happy? They’d been chasing a fix to fill a void of their own making. And now on the other side, the ugly truth of their dreams stares them and their unhappiness down every day.

“I’m sorry.” She adds and lowers her head. “I felt trapped and I knew you’d… do exactly what you are right now if you thought I was out there.”

“You were right.” He sighs and reaches to lift her chin revealing tears falling down her cheeks. He cups her face and wipes them away with his thumbs.

“I shouldn’t have reached out to you again.” She shakes her head.

“No...no, you should have.” He sighs heavily and pulls her into his chest, something she didn’t expect. “I’m sorry too.” He remarks into her hair, closing his eyes and feeling her in his arms. “I’m just…” he trails off. What could he say? I’m lost, I’m tired, unhappy, empty, angry? There wasn’t enough time to explain how he felt about this... about her. “I’m sorry too. I’m glad you let me find you. Okay?” He leans her head back to look up at him.

“I didn’t know you were here. In Colombia. I came here for work.”

“So did I.” He looks away purses his lips. “You know you can’t work for those men.” He wipes away her tears again, his hand smoothing her black waves away from her face. “They’ll kill you, Esme. The second you do something wrong they won’t even blink.”

“Like talk to you?” She arches a brow and gives him a soft smile. “I know, Javi. I know the risks.”

“And you still did it?”

“I missed you.” she admits with a soft exhale.

He pulls her in again, tighter this time. A kiss to her hair as he strokes his hands over her. “You know you need to get going. It’s almost night they’ll be crawling all over soon.”

She nods but doesn’t pull away. “They can’t see us here. There are no lookouts. It’s why I brought us here.”

“You know this place that well?”

“I have to. I don’t have a choice.” It felt hopeless as it left her trembling lips and it reflected more regret as she let it escape. It sounded as tired as she felt. It was as if being in his arms made her aware of how exhausted she was. How worn and hollow she was.

He knew the sound of exhaustion well. He heard it when he would deflect questions from the women he would pay to distract him from the one in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. Believe me, I know.” When she didn’t pull away, he didn’t make her. It gave him the answers he needed. At least what he needed to make it through another day without her for a short while.

@jaegeeeeer @likedovesinthewnd @inkededucatednnerdy @biharryjames @ladamari68 @past-romantic @weliketomoveit @shikin83

#javier pena #Javier Pena Fanfic #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fan fic

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persephonesinfernos · 4 years

Text

constellations | part six.

summary: there are only 88 officially recognized constellations, a small number considering you and your soulmate would have the exact same constellation on your skin. how can be sure if it was really them with so few of them? you could mistake your soulmate.

word count: 1578.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

warnings: abusive boyfriends, violence.

constellations masterlist | masterlist

Bucky did not appear, Nat did not appear. No one appeared for that matter. Not a knight in shining armour was running towards you to save the day. No, you were alone with someone you used to love and trust when it happened.

This was not a movie, nothing could’ve saved you from happening. This was real life and real life is hard, impartial and fucked up. You were not the first woman who has gone through this and you will not be the last one.

The slap to your face was not what hurt more of this situation. Neither were the successive hits you took from Erik. That was nothing, just physical pain that would go away.

What hurt most about the situation you were currently in was how you felt your heart shattered into a million pieces. How the love and adoration you once felt for someone were replaced by horror and fear. How your trusting persona was no longer there. Hit by hit, your whole being kept breaking down more and more, just as your cheeks and lips did.

The sun rays did not wake you up, you were not able to fall asleep after the beating. Erik did not leave your side, he stayed over. His body pressed to yours, arms around you. Once in a protective way, not anymore. You haven’t dared to move an inched in case Erik noticed, well just breathing was hurting you.

He was clever, he’d hit you in places the bruises wouldn’t be too prominent and that you only could see once you were undressed. Expect for those in your face, that you were sure were placed there so every time you look yourself in the mirror you would know who you belong to.

Those were the words used by him along with some other nasty comments. Just the memory made you flinch.

Erik started to stir next to you, he was waking up. You held your breath, tears threatening to spill. When he was fully awake, he kissed your cheek.

“Morning love.” He said smiling as if nothing’s ever happened. You stood still, not being able to move. “I love you so much, you cannot imagine (Y/N).” His words almost made you puke right there.

“I need to go, I’ll see you at the end of your classes. You know where I’ll be” His voice made you feel chills all over your body and it ached, it ached so much due to the already formed bruises on your stomach and shoulders and to your broken soul. This time not a single tear could be kept.

You looked at your reflection on the mirror, you were a mess. Not even a shower could have helped you. The bruises and cuts on your once smooth skin seemed to be highlighted by the shower you just took.

How could you let this happen? How could you not see that? You were so fucking stupid and naïve, and now… Now.

You broke down crying hard, knees on the cold bathroom floor. You had no strength to support yourself up, everything was spinning. Panic was setting in and you could not breathe or you were breathing too much. Hyperventilating? Shit, panic attack.

Break through this (Y/N). You thought, do it for you. So you pulled all your strength together and got up. Hands clenching the sides of your bathroom counter, looking one more to yourself in that fucking mirror.

Something went wild inside you. With a scream you threw you fist to the mirror, destroying it.

This was not your fault, you should’ve not seen it coming. ‘Cause it is not your damn fault, it was only his. No other girls saw it coming when it happened. You would not endure comments as “it is your fault, you laid eyes on another man”. Well, you were free to feel love or to stop feeling it, you never promised anyone your undying love or your life. Your feelings were allowed to change and disappeared.

And you would not endure comments about Erik being just concern and jealous. No, you wouldn’t. You were sick and tired of this idea planted on everyone’s brains about how jealousy means concern and to keep someone safe. No, it does not. Jealousy is a scourge in this society, it means possession and not trusting and to want to be in control of your partner and all their actions.

The mere course of your thoughts made you puke all over the sink, but you didn’t matter. This was ending today, you were not going to be more afraid. Not gonna let Erik made you feel like last night, fuck him and fuck his bullshit.

Your apartment phone ring, you picked up.

“(Y/N)? I’m Steve, Steve Rogers. I was trying to get a hold of you but your mobile phone is dead or something.” You heard him.

“Yeah, sorry about it. How’s everything?” You answered him.

“Fine, but I need you in here in an hour tops to start your internship. Can you make it?”

You arrived in time to the base, make-up covering all your scars. Battle scars, that’s what you decided to call them.

As you entered the room you locked eyes with Bucky, you forgot about him with all the crap that went down. You instantly felt guilty and sad as you saw the sadness and confusion in his breathtaking eyes. He looked away, as he did not know you, it broke your heart even more. Something you couldn’t believe.

“(Y/N), I’m glad you could make it,” Steve said to you while patting your right shoulder. The touched sent a wave of pain all over your body and even though you tried not to flinch, a pained emotion flashed through your face. Steve was not aware but Bucky did, Bucky noticed every single detail about you.

“Had nothing better to do and this gives me a good excuse to not attend classes so…” You chuckled. Your eyes searched for Bucky’s, but he kept staring straight.

“Well, education is important young lady.” You rolled your eyes at his comment. “I just want you to get familiarized with the base of operations and where you’ll be working. So not a too rough star. Bucky will be your supervisor, I get a feeling that you two would get along.” Your jaw clenched and you gulped.

Steve eyed you, sensing the tension on your body. “I gotta go, have a nice day and whatever you need, give me a call.”

Bucky still didn’t glance at you and you couldn’t stand it so you walked to him “Hey, I’m sorry about…”

“I called you, too many time that I lost count.” He decided to look down on you, betray in his eyes. “You promised you’d be back (Y/N), you promised me.” He said with a slightly plead for an explanation.

“I know but things went crazy and by the time I was done with Erik I just couldn’t move and fell asleep.” You said softly reaching your hands to his. You did not lie, just omitted the whole truth.

He seemed to buy it and that only made the knot on your stomach to get tighter. “Okay, okay.” He let out a breath that was mixed with a light laughter, his other hand running through his brunette locks.

His hands reached to your shoulders to get you closer to him, it hurt but you said nothing. That was until he kissed you, your lips were broken and the lipstick could cover much but as he was kissing you they started to itch and burn, making you pull away with a pained groan.

Bucky observed you carefully, worry setting in his beautiful features. “Why is your lip bleeding?” His comment made you reached your lips with your fingers.

As you noticed the metallic taste of the blood in your tongue and the red colour of it in your finger you, alarm was all you could feel. You stepped back not daring to look at Bucky.

“(Y/N)?” His tone was a mixture of concern and anger. He strode to you and if it wasn’t for this current situation you would be turned on by this.

He grabbed your wrist gently “Look up at me doll, please. Let me help you”.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I just….” No more words came off your mouth but you didn’t cry this time, just looked down at your feet.

He reached to your waist to pull you in for a hug and this time you couldn’t help it. You flinched to his touch and whimper loudly.

He, Bucky, your soulmate searched for the origin of your pain and reached to pull your shit up and saw a giant bruise on your right hip. Clenching his left fist to his side, his jaw shut down and reached for your shoulder. This area was worse, besides the purple bruise, there were some cuts could re-open anytime soon, too recently done that were red.

“WHO. DID. THIS?” He whisper-shouted to you. “IT WAS THAT FUCKING ERIK SCUMBAG, WASN’T IT?” Your eyes not meeting his yet. “This is the reason you weren’t able to come back to me.” He stated, an interrogation tone in his voice.

Your lips quiver, a single tear fell on Bucky’s hand and he lost it.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” He said as he stormed off the room. He was fuming enraged.

Constellation Tag List: @zizzlekwum |

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less-intelligent-spencerreid · 4 years

Text

The Sitter-Three

The Victim

Hotch x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Family's Death

A collab with the incredibly talented @flightsoffandom

Tag List: @icantswimhalp

@hommoturttle

@winterscaptain

@jovialtimetravelgladiator

@lex-is-a-shipper

A note: I’m on mobile so I apologize for any weird formatting.

—————————

5 years ago:

You were laying in bed reading when Sammy crept into your room. “Hey bean, what’s wrong?” You asked, putting your book to the side.

“I can’t sleep y/n, I heard scary noises.” Sammy replied.

“Come here,” you said scooting over and patting the bed beside you, “you can sleep in here tonight. You don’t have to be afraid of anything because I’ll protect you, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Forever.” You turned the lamp beside your bed off and put an arm around them.

Present Day:

There you were, making your yearly trip to the cemetery. Every year got a bit easier but it didn’t exactly take away the pain. Maybe just dulled it a bit. You ambled over to the spot, after five years your body was just on autopilot as you navigate your way through the ocean of tombstones. Once your body came to a stop you looked down at the three graves. These three slabs of fancy rock was all you had left of your family. Your mom, dad and little Sammy. You sat in the middle of all three of them. Pulling out a packed lunch. On special occasions your mom and dad made a special family meal, with recipes that were passed down through the generations but you had never gotten a chance to learn them and now the recipes were long lost. You tried your best every year to recreate it and you were getting close. It still didnt taste right but it was the best you could do.

The next morning you woke up and watched Sammy sleep for a little bit before shaking them awake.

“Good morning Bean. Happy 7th Birthday!”

“Thanks y/n,” Sammy smiled, “let’s go downstairs!”

“Alright, bean let’s go.”

Of course your mom had made the special meal that day. That last time she would ever cook it.

As you slowly ate you noticed flowers had been placed on each of the graves. You must have missed them in your fog of melancholy. It wasn't too unusual. Sometimes people would put flowers on empty graves as a way to show the less visited tomestones some care.You did take care of them whenever you visited but you didn't visit as often as you would have liked. You decided to take a look at them when you had finished eating. You wiped off the face of all three stone plaques, cleaning them up a little. Then you reached down and picked up the first bouquet of flowers off of Sammy’s grave. Once you had them in your hand you noticed a card attached. You had never seen a card on anonymous flowers before. Flipping the card over in your hand so you could see the writing. All it read was ‘To: The One That Got Away.’

You had hidden Sammy’s gift at your friend’s house to make sure they wouldn’t find it. It was something they had been asking for for months.

“I’m going to go pick up Bean‘s present,” You told your family after lunch. “I’ll be back in 45 minutes.”

“Okay honey, see you soon.” Your mom said, kissing the top of your head.

“Drive safe, love you.” Your dad called out to you.

“I will! Love you too!”

Your stomach clenched so tight that you regretted finishing all of your food before looking at these flowers. Immediately you dropped them to the ground before picking up the next set. All three sets of flowers had the same taunt on them, ‘To: The One That Got Away.’ The bouquets felt like hot charcoal in your hands and you dropped them like they were burning you. Everything from your past came rushing back to you causing you to stumble over to a nearby tree. Wanting to be far away from any graves just in case you did actually lose your lunch. Doubling over clutching onto the rough bark of the tree even as it scraped into your skin. The tears started streaming down your cheeks as your nightmare of a memory hit you like a brick wall.

“I’m back!” You called in a sing-song voice as you opened the door.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic.” You set the package inside and closed the door before walking into the living room. As soon as you were in the doorway, you let out a blood curdling scream.

“Sammy! Mom! Dad! What happened?” You yelled frantically as you dialed 911 and ran over to Sammy.

Feeling like you were being watched and you couldn't be here anymore. You had to leave. Starting to head back to your car, about half way back you realized you left your lunch bag and you had to double back. Your vision was blurred from the tears that wouldn't stop rolling down your face. When you got into the driver’s seat of your car you crossed your arms over the steering wheel. Burying your face into your arms as you start sobbing uncontrollably. Even as you got swept up in your own emotions you couldn't get the creepy feeling that someone was watching you to go away. You steeled yourself so that you could see clearly enough to drive before speeding out of the cemetery. When you got home the first thing you did was park the car. The drive had calmed you down a bit. You had managed to convince yourself that you were seeing things and the cards on the flowers didn't mean what you originally thought they did. Your delusion was shattered the second you opened your mailbox. In the stack of mail you pulled out the first thing that caught your eye was a brightly colored envelope. You stepped into your house and immediately went to open it. Ripping the paper open you pulled out a card. When you saw the childrens birthday card you didn't even need to read it. You knew. All the mail fell out of your hands and you abandoned it on the floor in your doorway. You rushed up to your room, trying to figure out what to do as you started panicking.

You knew what you had to do. You picked up the phone and dialed, “Aaron, hey, sorry for the late notice,” you inhaled deeply, hating what you were doing “I can’t watch Jack anymore.”

#hotch x reader #the sitter #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #cm #cm fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x you #hotch x nuetral!reader #hotch x gender nuetral!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader

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inkbloodpaperandbone · 4 years

Text

A Proper Apology

(I am honestly really happy that Abby gets her happy ending but she should have actually apologized properly. I hope it doesn't come across as Abby being a horrible person because she's not. But sometimes nice people whether they mean to or not do shitty things that hurt people. So I wrote this instead of sleeping. lol. If you like this please reblog.)

Tagging @datleggy

After leaving Buck at the park Abby felt out of sorts.

It had gone well, she'd thanked him for rescuing her fiancé, Sam, she'd explained why she'd let her and Buck's relationship and he'd told Abby that he was happy for her. So why did she feel so off?

Maybe it was because despite being back in L.A she hadn't considered to contact Carla.

Yes that was it. It would be nice to see her old friend, Abby couldn't remember the last time they'd actually spoken.

Mind made up, Abby scrolled down the contact list on her phone in search of Carla's number and physically blanched at the date of the last message.

Abby hadn't realised it had been so long.

Abby quickly sent of a text, asking if Carla was busy and if not would she like to meet up at that cafe they used to go to before Abby had left.

Fifteen minutes later Carla replied, saying she was surprised to hear Abby was in LA and yes it would be nice to meet up today but that the café Abby had suggested had shut down ages ago but that there was a nice enough one that Carla now visited and the instructions to get there.

Abby smiled and quickly phoned Sam to tell him she'd be a little while longer and that she loved him.

The café turned out not to be to far from where Abby and Sam where staying so she decided to walk. After all Abby had lived in LA for years, surely it had changed all that much on the time she was aboard.

Seeing Carla face to face for the first time in nearly three years was almost strange. But at least it was nowhere near as shocking as seeing Buck at the train wreckage a couple of days prior.

Carla was sitting at a table outside and waved Abby over when she spotted her long absentee friend.

Reaching the table Abby smiled brightly and readily accepted the hug Carla offered.

"I've missed you."

Carla pulled away, "I missed you too."

They sat and a waiter scurried over to take their orders.

Carla ordered a mocha capachino, Abby a white coffee.

"So, what are you doing back in LA. I have to say it was a surprise."

Carla smiled but her words sounded kinda, Abby wasn't sure, sad maybe.

"Well my fiance and I where -"

"Wait you're engaged? Since when?"

Abby frowned, she'd posted about the engagement on her Facebook page months ago.

She told Carla as much.

"Abby sweetie we're not friends on have Facebook anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I guess I should have called."

Carla waves a hand dismissively.

"So you where telling me about being back in LA."

Abby nodded and began explaining about the train derailment and how she and Sam where staying at a hotel for the moment.

Oh honey I'm so glad you're okay. I can't believe it, I heard about it on the news. That must have been terrifying."

"It was so scary. And I lost Sam for awhile and I had no way of knowing if he was alive and then Buck showed up and that was so strange but he helped save Sam and we're good.

"You're good, you and Buck? After everything?" Carla sounded surprised.

"Well I spoke to him earlier today."

"And how was that?"

Abby sighed she hadn't really wanted to talk about Buck.

"Well I told him about Sam and his kids and how while I was traveling I realized that if I came back to LA I was just going to go back to being the Abby that was always looking after everyone else but me and that I didn't want to lose myself again to that. So I decided not to come back."

Carla leaned back on her chair, her usually bright and friendly faced closed off.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean?" Abby recoiled at Carla's tone.

"Abby that boy waited for you for months, he looked after your apartment, all your things, even your mail and you just stopped talking to him. Honey, he came to me near tears wondering if he should give up on you or not."

Carla took a large sip of her drink.

"Please tell me you at least apologized."

"I, I explained. I -" Abby stutters.

"Explained what? That you didn't want to face up to the fact you didnt want a relationship with him anymore."

Carla shook her head in disbelief. She stood up and motions for a waiter to come to take her bill.

"Abby you ghosted him and it broke his heart. He deserves a proper apology. I'm happy for you Abby I am but I love that boy too and he's been through far to much this past year not to get the closure he needs from you."

Carla quickly pays for her drink, tells Abby to try and stay in touch and gives her another tight hug before leaving.

A lump settles in Abby's throat that doesn't go away even when she gets back to the hotel.

Sam smiles up at her from where he's sitting on the bed. The girls are in the room attached to theirs, the TV playing loudly.

Sam's face is bruised and scratched but he's alive and whole and Abby is grateful to Buck for once again being there when she needed him.

Sitting down next to her fiancé Sam asks how her afternoon went and Abby tells him about meeting Buck and then Carla. And how uneasy it had made her feel.

Sam smile drops and he take her hand between his own.

"I think your friend Carla is right. I didn't realize that was how you'd broken up with you last boyfriend. To be honest that's a pretty shitty thing to do."

He wiped away the tears that spill from Abby's eyes at his admission.

Hey, I'm not mad. And from what you've told me this Buck guy has been very understanding. But Abby I don't want you to regret never making things right between you." Sam wraps his arms around her and Abby cries into his shoulder.

That night Abby lies awake and goes over the memories of her and Buck's relationship of the conversation and how hurt Buck had been over the way she'd spoken to him. She thought over and over about what she had said and after talking with Carla Abby's excuse of being worried about losing herself to Buck sounded hollow and almost cruel.

Buck was the one who hadn't run away when he'd found out about Abby's mom, unlike Tommy. He'd been patient and understanding whenever Abby had to cancel or cut dates short. He had shied away from offering help when Abby's mom had a bad day.

She'd even told him the night she decided to leave to Ireland that Buck was the person who had helped her to start to find herself when she'd been drowing in her life as a first responder and carer to a dying mother.

He'd made her feel special and important and Abby had just thrown it all back in his face.

The realisation of this sits like lead in her stomach. Abby turns to look at Sam and watches the man she loves sleep. A man who would most likely be dead if Buck hadn't risked his life to save.

Abby knows that Sam and Carla were right, she needed to truly make amends with Buck.

Early the next morning Abby walks to the 118 firehouse and uses the time to thing over what she needs to say. The station doesn't look any different from the last time she'd been here, but so much has changed.

As she waits several cars pull up and when she looks up she sees Buck walking towards the station entrance bumping shoulders with another man. As they get close Abby recognises him as the firefighter she'd first spoken to the night of the accident.

"Abby?"

She shuffles her feet, " Hi buck."

The other firefighter claps Buck on the shoulder

"I'll tell cap you'll be a minute."

Bucks smiles after him as he walks away "Thanks Eddie."

Abby watches Eddie leave before turning back to Buck, she tries to smile but it comes out as an awkward grimace.

"Buck I," she paused, "I'm so sorry. Yesterday I should have apologized for how I treated you instead of making excuses I see that now. And I apologize for ghosting you, for leading you on when I knew I was never going to come back to you. It was wrong and I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I truly am. And maybe one day we could be friends again."

Buck sighs deeply, he curls into himself slightly and the change in posture makes him look oddly small.

"Abby I told you that I'm happy for you. And I meant it, I'm happy you've found a family and someone to love. And part of me I would like to be your friend." Buck tells her, voice quiet but sincere.

He shakes his head and straightens up. Standing tall Buck smiles that brilliant smile that still makes Abby swoon a little inside.

"But you know what Abby? You took me for granted and yesterday made me realize just how much. I loved you and I waited for you. But eventually I was done being your ghost and I've moved on too. And I'm happy without you. I've got a job that I love and I have a family full of amazing people who love me and I'm happy."

Buck's eyes a red and wet with tears and Abby can feel herself crying as well.

For a moment they stand face to face like they had done before Abby walked into the airport for her flight to Dublin so long ago.

Then Buck looks over his shoulder into the station and back again. He wiped a hand over his face and shrugs.

"I better go, my shift's already started."

It's a pretty clear dismissal and one Abby takes without complaint.

"Goodbye Abby Clark."

"Goodbye Evan Buckley."

And with that he heads inside without a backwards glance.

Several months later a week before Christmas Abby gets a card in the mail.

On the front is a picture of Buck and his friend Eddie, between them is a little boy with curly hair and bright blue glasses. Buck has a hand on the boys shoulder, a ring on his finger.

Inside (with large wobbly letters that have clearly written by a child) the card reads, 'Merry Christmas from the Buckley-Diaz family!'

And underneath in much smaller writing,is a mobile number that despite everything Abby never deleted and a single worded question, 'friends?'

#9-1-1 #my fanfic #fix-it #abby clark #evan ‘buck’ buckley #evan buckley #this is probably terrible but i worked hard so 'shrug'

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winchesterandpie · 4 years

Text

Reminders (Thorin Oakenshield x reader)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Sort of Modern!AU

Word Count: 1517

Warnings: some angst, mentions of death (nobody actually dies though)

A/N: So, I watched the Battle of the Five Armies when it was on TV as part of a Hobbit marathon... naturally this included Thorin, Fili, and Kili all dying and I was Not A Fan, so I had this fix-it imagination/thing. The reader (that’s you!) got transported to Middle Earth, and saved our boys and now those three dwarves plus you watched BOTFA (don’t ask me how they got transported to and from Middle Earth, because idk, it just happened). The two lines of dots are just my way of maintaining space on the mobile version! Gif is not mine (I got it from google, but it appears to have a credit in the top corner)! Love you all and hope you enjoy!

Shoutout to the lovely (hehe) @legolaslovely for helping me bounce ideas and get unstuck!!

The movie was over but I could barely push myself to my feet and through the halls of my house, muttering an excuse about needing to use the bathroom. It’d been dreadfully hard to live through Thorin and his nephews nearly dying, but to have to watch them actually die over again? It was just too much.

Why did I let those blasted dwarves talk me into watching this movie with them? I could’ve just been faster to turn it off and we could’ve avoided this whole thing but noooo.

Even now, they were watching the beginning of the first Lord of the Rings movie, unaffected by watching their own on-screen deaths and unaware as I tried desperately to force back the tears I could feel welling up. Without paying attention, I came to sit before a window in the other room, staring out at the yard and the streets as I tucked my knees close to my chest. I sucked in a sharp breath as flashes of memory struck.

. .

This one dies first.

Then the brother.

Then you, Oakenshield.

You will die last.

Ice filled my veins at the words I had heard so many times before in the movies. Now, though, it was real. Fili was real and a real friend, not just a fictional character.

Helplessly, we watched from below as Azog jammed his cruel blade through Fili before letting him fall to the ice. Instinctively, I reached out, trying to slow the blond prince’s fall. Miraculously, I somehow managed to catch him, though the limp weight of him knocked me to the ground. He lay unmoving atop me as I struggled to get out from under him.

. .

Kili charged recklessly towards Tauriel’s voice, hearing her cry out as she was attacked by Bolg. I saw him move from across the ice, separated by a horde of goblins and orcs. Muttering curses under my breath, I followed, cutting my way through the army as quickly as I could, ignoring the cuts I received in the urgency I felt to get there before it was too late.

Alas, fate, it seemed, was against me as Azog’s son threw Kili onto the stone steps. As I reached the ledge, I saw the dwarf’s head hit the stone hard and he didn’t get back up. My last throwing knife leapt of its own accord into my hand, where it was sent with deadly accuracy and force into an unarmored part of Bolg’s head.

My knees were almost buckling under the weight of losing both of the dwarf princes, under the weight of my own failure to save them, but I forced myself to keep moving. There was yet one more son of Durin who drew breath on this hill, and I had to try. No tears, not yet, I told myself.

. .

From across the ice, I could see that Azog had some dwarf I couldn’t identify pinned beneath him. My breath caught in horror as I realized it was Thorin, trying desperately to stave off Azog’s blade. I had already used most of my arrows, leaving only two in the quiver. Still, I could tell I only had time for one shot. One shot in which to pull the Pale Orc’s attention to me, as I didn’t trust my aim to kill him.

Unconsciously, I had drawn the bow, the fletching on the arrow brushing my cheek as I aimed carefully. One shot. One breath. One smooth release. The arrow flew on its way with a hiss.

It slammed into Azog’s upper arm, and his head whipped in my direction, just like I’d been counting on. Thorin’s attention was dragged to me, distracting him from Azog, which I hadn’t counted on. The orc moved to stab Thorin again, but I snapped off my last arrow before I started sprinting in their direction. The arrow tore through his stub of an arm, pushing his sword stroke aside. Or so I had hoped.

I thought I saw my arrow shift where his blade struck, but it didn’t stop him and I was still too far away. I saw the blade sink into Thorin, who couldn’t block it in his exhaustion, and the sight hit me like a physical blow. The loss of the brothers had hurt, but not like this. Not him, I begged to whatever deity would listen, Please, not him.

. .

I was brought out of my thoughts suddenly by a hand on my face, brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized was slipping down my cheek. My mind slowly processed and understood where I was, though the grief lingered heavily. They hadn’t actually been dead, thankfully, though that knowledge hadn’t been part of the memories I’d recalled.

“Come back to me, ghivashel.” Thorin’s voice filtered over my ears, I pulled my gaze to his face, still staring without seeing. With conscious effort, I forced myself to focus on him, registering his furrowed brow and concerned gaze.

“There you are.”

“Sorry,” I replied quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet.

“No need to apologize. Where were you?” His hands, cupped around my cheeks, held me there as he gazed intently into my eyes.

“Erebor,” I hedged, hoping he’d leave it at that. I’d managed to keep my voice from cracking, but only just. He was worried enough about trying to get back to Middle Earth to have to worry about whether I was breaking. I was, however, betrayed when another tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

“What’s wrong, lass?” Thorin caught the tear with a gentle brush of his thumb. “I’ve been homesick, I’ve seen you homesick. This is something more. You don’t need to hide from me.”

“I… that movie… I didn’t expect… didn’t expect to watch you die today, Thorin.” My voice finally cracked as I put words to the painful thoughts.

“And you were remembering the battle.” His gaze became impossibly soft as he looked at me. Carefully, he pulled me into his chest, his fingers winding through my hair. I felt the gentle press of his lips to the crown of my head as I sucked in a shuddering breath.

“That part of the movie always hurt, but this time…” I trailed off with a helpless shrug.

“It is understandable to be troubled by reminders of such times. You are not weak for that,” the king murmured soothingly as the hand that wasn’t cradling my head to him began to trace little patterns on my back.

“I don’t see you, or Fili, or Kili so troubled, and you were the ones who nearly died and then watched your own deaths!”

“Different things trouble different people. Besides, you were the one who watched what you believed to be our demise unfold before you in the real battle. Watching it now was as though you were reliving the memory.”

I nodded slightly, supposing that what he said made sense. Safe now in the dwarven king’s strong arms, the tension and grief slowly loosened their hold, helped along by quiet reassurances that he was there, that they were alive. Every inhale brought Thorin’s scent into my nose, another reminder that he was real and alive.

“What happened to Aunt Y/N?” I heard Kili’s quiet question but didn’t move.

I didn’t really pay attention to Thorin’s reply, just the soothing rumble of his chest as he spoke.

“Is there anything we can do, Uncle?”

“What do you think, love? What do you need?”

I shifted my head a little as I thought, feeling the soft brush of Thorin’s lips against my forehead. “Maybe we could watch something else? Something to take my mind off it?” I only paused briefly before my jumbled thoughts slipped from my mouth. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be-”

“No apologies, ghivashel,” Thorin cut me off gently, pulling back enough to lift my chin in his hand and look me in the eye. “You don’t ever need to apologize for having feelings. You are not a burden for them.” As usual, the dark-haired dwarf saw through me to where the immediate guilt was coming from. I nodded, closing my eyes and leaning into his hand as I tried to burn his reassurance into my mind.

“We don’t know how to get to a movie, but we’d love to watch another one with you,” Kili offered after a moment had passed.

“Yeah, I should probably man the remote.” I chuckled weakly at the thought of them trying to work the unfamiliar technology.

“Fili, Kili, you get some food to eat while we watch. We’ll be there in a moment.”

The brothers bounced toward the kitchen, jostling each other playfully as they went. I smiled at the sight before turning back to see Thorin watching me adoringly.

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

“Men lananubukhs menu,” was all Thorin said in reply. His hand found the back of my neck, pulling me in so he could rest his forehead against mine with the utmost care, and I knew that he knew everything I was failing to convey.

Somehow, he always knew.

Translations:

Ghivashel: treasure of all treasures

Men lananubukhs menu: I love you

Hope you enjoyed!!

Forever Tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach

Tag list is open! Shoot me a message or an ask if you’d like to be added!

#Thorin x reader #Thorin x you #Thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin Oakenshield x you #Thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #The Hobbit #The Hobbit fanfiction #fix it fanfiction #Modern!AU

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captain-s-rogers · 4 years

Text

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part Two

Master List

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 2,090 Warnings: none? A/N: Here’s the second part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! Special thanks to the best bestie in the world, @arrowsandmixtapes , for making sure all of my work isn’t absolute garbage! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

The few days that passed before Steve called to arrange their date were nearly torturous. Sophia checked her phone every few minutes, tried to keep as many calls to her office phone as she could, and wondered how a dance and a drink had left such an impact on her.

When Steve did finally call, the both of them agreed not to wait any longer; they scheduled the date for that very evening. Steve suggested a restaurant in Little Italy, and Sophia quickly agreed. She was familiar with the place and simply thinking of the menu had her mouth watering.

“I really need to go shopping,” Sophia groaned, falling back onto her bed next to where Lucy was seated. Sophia had just torn through her entire wardrobe and, no matter what Lucy told her would be pretty and perfect, not one outfit seemed right to Sophia.

Lucy got up and surveyed the contents of her friend’s closet. She chuckled, “You don’t need to go shopping, you just need to breathe. You’re nervous and excited, so nothing looks right. Tell me again, where are you going?”

“Luciano’s, in Little Italy? You went there with me once before, that time Mom came into the city for her birthday. It’s small but not necessarily casual dining. Remember, she had too many glasses of wine that night and kept calling you Luciano? She couldn’t believe you wouldn’t tell her you had a restaurant named after you.”

Lucy remembered, and she giggled at the memory as she thumbed through the dresses in Sophia’s closet. After a brief consideration, she pulled out a green skater dress and a cropped black cardigan. She put them on a hanger together and held the outfit up for Sophia to see.

“He’s tall, so you can get away with pairing this with those cute black pumps I’m always trying to steal,” Lucy noted. “And this shade of green always compliments your complexion.”

“That. Is. Perfect! I can’t believe you managed to find something in all that mess.” She took the dress and sweater from her friend and immediately stripped of her comfy clothes so she could get dressed for her date.

“Well,” Lucy replied, reaching to put the hanger back in a free space on the rod, “I do know you pretty well, and I’m not freaking out at the moment.”Lucy winked at her friend, then left Sophia alone to finish getting ready.

It took another hour or so, but Sophia was finally dressed, hair and makeup done. She had decided Lucy was right about shoes and had slid her feet into her favorite pair of black pumps. Once she had packed a few essentials into the clutch that complemented her outfit, she let Lucy know she was headed to meet Steve.

“I won’t be out too late, promise.”

Lucy laughed. “Let’s hope you are. Have fun, be safe!”

The cab ride from their shared apartment in Manhattan to the agreed upon restaurant in Little Italy was nearly thirty minutes, and Sophia was brimming with excitement. Her nerves were as active as ever; her hand shook when she handed the driver a few bills for fare plus a decent tip.

After working her way through the crowd at the front of the restaurant, Sophia approached the hostess.

“I’m meeting someone, we have a reservation.” She tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at the idea of giving someone’s name besides Lucy’s or her own. “Rogers, party of two.”

The hostess reviewed the reservation list and nodded. She plucked two menus from a nearby basket and smiled at Sophia.

“Of course, we have your table waiting. Follow me, right this way.”

The table was in the middle of the restaurant, but still spaced out enough from the others that they would be able to hold a conversation easily enough without the background noise making it difficult. Two taper candles in pretty holders were lit on either side of a votive of flowers in the middle of the table.

The waiter was quick to approach; Sophia let him know that she was waiting for her date.

“He shouldn’t be too far behind, though.” She glanced at the drinks section of the menu. “Would it be all right if I ordered a glass of wine while I wait?”

“Yes, of course. What would you like?”

Sophia gave the young man her wine order, then sat back to peruse the food options and wait for Steve to arrive.

Choosing black dress pants and a pale, blue button down shirt had been easy for Steve when it came to dressing for his date with Sophia. The black pants seemed appropriate for the occasion and venue, and he knew that the blue shirt would bring out his eyes. The tie, on the other hand, was the tough choice. He had narrowed it down to three, holding each one up in front of him, eventually narrowing the choice down to two. Before he could eliminate another choice, a knock sounded loudly from his apartment door. With a frustrated sigh, Steve tossed the ties on his bed and headed to answer the door. Hopefully it was some kid selling candy he could toss a five dollar bill at and go back to his ties.

The knocking persisted, even as he walked toward the door. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

He was ready to give the visitor the brushoff, as he was already running a few minutes later than he would have liked, but he stopped abruptly when he saw S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury standing in the hallway.

“How often do you make house calls?” Steve quipped.

Fury walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “When someone isn’t answering their phone, a house call sometimes becomes necessary.”

Steve groaned. He had left his phone on the kitchen table while ironing his shirt earlier, and hadn’t thought about it again -- he was too distracted thinking of Sophia.

“Yeah, I was ironing a shirt and --”

“Suit up, Cap. We need you.” Fury’s interruption didn’t leave much room for argument or discussion, but that hadn’t stopped Steve before.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Are you sure you need me? I’m all for answering the call of duty, sir, but I kind of -- I have a date.”

The reason for his hesitancy seemed weak, even to his own ears, once it was out in the open. He was Captain America, after all. The mission should have been his priority.

“The head of the UN has been taken hostage in Russia, so unfortunately, your love connection is going to have to be put on hold. This is time sensitive, Captain.”

Steve went to the kitchen for his phone, but Fury stood in his path. Like a bothered teenager, Steve rolled his eyes, remembered who he was and what he stood for, and went for his suit and shield.

Thirty minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of Steve. Sophia checked her phone, disappointed that she had no messages waiting to tell her what might be holding him up. She ordered another glass of wine and waited, answering some work emails from her mobile, hoping Steve would come and interrupt her.

“Is your other party still on his way, miss? Would you like to go ahead and order?”

This was the third time the waiter had asked. She checked the time to see she had been sitting here alone for an hour now, no word from Steve. Apparently, she had been stood up. She ordered another glass of wine, a double order of garlic knots to go, then paid her check and caught a taxi home.

She had been excited and nervous on the way to Luciano’s, but now Sophia felt irate and hurt. Steve had seemed so eager to go out with her after they danced -- hell, even when they had talked to set up the date earlier that day -- she was baffled by the fact that he hadn’t shown up. She wondered silently if she should have waited a little longer, but told herself not to be silly. She’d waited an hour. That was plenty long enough. If Steve Rogers was the kind of man who played a woman and set a date without the intention of showing up, Sophia decided she was better off.

When she finally returned home, all Sophia wanted to do was have a few glasses of wine, take a hot bath, and go to bed. She sighed as she let herself into the apartment; no doubt Lucy would still be awake and have a lot of questions about her night.

“Brought home garlic knots,” Sophia announced, setting the box on the coffee table in front of where her friend sat on the couch.

“Yum,” Lucy said, perking up at just the smell. She immediately got into the box, picking up one of the knots and tearing a piece off. “Delicious.”

Sophia smiled. “I thought you’d like them.”

“You’re home way earlier than I thought,” Lucy frowned. “Ooh, did he turn out to be a dud? Did the conversation suck? Is he just good looks with nothing to back them up?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sophia sighed, toeing off her shoes, “he never showed.”

“You’re kidding!” Lucy exclaimed, tiny crumbs of garlic knot sputtering out with her surprise. She covered her mouth and apologized. Shaking her head, she reached for another garlic knot. “You know what, Soph, fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you. If he knew --”

“Luce, I love you, and I appreciate the my-best-friend-deserves-the-world sentiments, but right now I only want to have some wine, take a long, hot bath, and go to bed.”

“Soph...”

“Really, I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been stood up, I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“I know, but this guy is -- he’s, like, stupidly handsome.”

“Lucy.”

The other girl winced. “Sorry, you’re right. I’ll shut up about it. Go get your bath ready, I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

The mission to save the head of the UN was flawlessly accomplished. Steve had gotten the man out of the hostage situation safely, sat tiredly through the debriefing at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and was now finally back home. He peeled out of his suit, set his shield against the wall, and turned to retrieve some pajama pants and a t-shirt from his dresser. He saw the shirt and pants and two ties discarded on his bed and sighed to himself. One victory, one loss for the night. Good thing he didn’t need much sleep at this point; he wasn’t going to get any.

He went to the refrigerator for a drink and spotted his phone on the table. He was still getting used to the device, which was likely why he hadn’t thought much of its absence while he was getting dressed, and why calling Sophia hadn’t been his first thought coming into the apartment. Not to mention, every clock in the house was telling him it was after three in the morning; calling now would be unwelcomed for a number of reasons, he was sure.

“Should have just called her anyway,” Steve sighed, wishing he hadn’t obeyed that part of Fury’s orders.

But, if it was this hour, maybe she was sleeping and wouldn’t answer. With a fervent hope that her voicemail would pick up and he wouldn’t bother her while she was sleeping, Steve found Sophia’s number in his contacts. He pressed the green button to make the call, letting out a relieved whoosh of breath when her voicemail picked up after a few rings.

“Sophia, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers. I’m so sorry about not making our date tonight. Something important came up, and I couldn’t get out of it. I swear, I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t an emergency. Is there any way you’d want to reschedule? I would still love to take you out. Just give me a call back and let me know either way. It’s Steve, by the way, not sure if I mentioned that. Right, okay.”

He hit the red button to end the call and tossed the phone away. The voicemail was a feeble attempt to get her to talk to him, and Steve could only hope that she would at least agree to talk to him so he could do a better job of apologizing when he wasn’t a couple hours out from a mission and his mind wasn’t so worn out.

@arrowsandmixtapes @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @growningupgeek @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @captain-rogers-beard @kitkatd7 @patzammit @sagechanoafterdark @what-is-your-plan-today

#steve rogers #clint barton #steve rogers fanfic #clint barton fanfic

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tenpin-boleyn · 5 years

Text

Rebellious Parr at School!

These were thought up by @wolfies-chew-toy and I- mostly MB- because Cathy going through teenage rebellion is I C O N I C

There are some teenage Anne in here too but mostly our girl Cathy P 🖤

Also I’m sorry about the length- I’m on mobile so I can’t add a read more :)

•Anne got her heelys confiscated, so she decided to sandpaper the bottom of her shoes so she can slide around like a penguin. No wheels? No problem.

•Catherine being the feminist icon that all teachers fear:

“NO I AM NOT READING ROMEO AND JULIET AS ITS A DEROGATORY REPRESENTATION OF WOMEN AND SHOULD BE TREATED AS SUCH”

Then Catherine promptly gets removed from the class.

“Catherine don’t you have English right now?”

“Don’t you have your funeral!!.... oh my god Mrs lynn I’m so sorry” because Cathy is a badass but she still has feelings

•Confusing the teachers on a daily basis:

"Hitler is kinda like Kim Jong Un dont you think?"

"Miss Parr and Miss Seymour what are you talking about?"

"Miss, isn't Kim Jong Un rather like Hitler?"

"Please stop discussing your Kpop idols in my class."

•The school has different colors led name tags for the different years, eg. Seventh year, yellow, eighth year green etc.

You can bet your ass Parr has a name tag in each colour and wears them all at once. It ranges from her actual name to Catradora. She has a name tag that just says CatParr420 and wears it everywhere.

And 90% of the time she wears a blank one and carries around a marker

“Umm excuse me what’s your name?”

Which prompts Cathy to draw on a fake name.

“Anita Willtolive”!

•She draws penises on all the whiteboards of every class she enters in permanent marker.

•One time the school used a drone to film the morning assembly and the noise annoyed Cathy so much she picked her book from morning reading up and h u r l e d it at the drone.

All you can hear before the recording stops is “YEET”

Did she get detention? Yes

Was it worth it? HELL YES

•You can bet your bottom dollar that Anne is in that detention too.

Anne's reasons for detention range from stuff like chatting to general shenaniganery but Cathy is just oPEN DEFIANCE

•She only is nice to her classmates

•And selected teachers

•She's a dick to everyone else

•But if she sees a kid on their own she’ll go out of her way to be lovely to them and to that one annoying teacher she hates, she’s a hell raiser

•She once moved the empty table next to her desk away to the other end of the class to stop teachers from sitting next to her- whilst the teacher was trying to sit at said desk.

•Catherine openly questioning EVERYTHING

“But if everyone is only nice to get into heaven surely that defeats the purpose and they’re being fake”

•She would fall asleep in front of the teacher

She'd just yell goodnight really loudly and knock out on her desk

•Honestly it’s a wonder she hasn’t been kicked out, but Jane thinks it’s because her grades bring up the school average

•She does her homework the moment she gets it and is finished by the end of the day

•Anne just puts in her file and lets it rot

•Parr gets in trouble for handing in Anne’s homework that Parr did but Anne has no idea. Cathy just wanted to make sure she didn’t fail

•Anne teaches Parr how to get discounts in the cafeteria, because Parr needs free cookies.

•Parr is Anne's defender when it comes to detentions

•She gives the teacher her Stare™️ and they instantly clam up

•Their detention desks are side by side and they have like those partners in crime necklaces but instead of two halves on their necklaces they’re carved into the tables

They they put them together they just line up

“Parr scares all the teachers except the German teacher who is literally Satan.

•Anne looks scary but she is basically harmless

•Parr looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly but given the chance she would 100% bite her teacher's hand off

•Anne has like five piercings and the messiest uniform in existence while Parr has only one piercing in each ear and the neatest uniform in existence but the moment Parr opens her mouth you better run

•She once bit a first year because they got in her way

•Cross any of Parr's friends or Parr herself and you might as well drop out because you'll be on a hit list for your whole education career

•She’s got a little black book of people that’s annoyed her because eventually she forgets but she’s too petty to let her memory get the better of her

•Anne has been on it at least once but Parr always strikes her name out

•She once kicked Parr in the stomach trying to show off her sandpapered shoes

•The shoe flew off and hit Parr in the stomach

She would have screamed at Anne but Anne’s puppy dog eyes are irresistible

Especially at 12 years old because she’s literally a baby

Like not even in a sexual way, you just can’t say no to those eyes

•Seymour has also been on the list once

But Parr got her revenge

What did Seymour do? She keeps taking Parrs highlighters

So Parr makes her pay money for every time she uses her highlighters

And one day a teacher sees and thinks it’s a drug deal

Every late payment is + 1 quid

Jane knows better than to accumulate late payments because Parr is ruthless when it comes to money

•When a classmate lost Parrs calculator and didn't pay her back, Parr literally carved owe money pay money onto her desk and got that person's friends to remind them daily till they paid her back

•Every time that person saw Parr in the hallways they'd turn around and head the other direction

•Tardies don't matter when the most trigger-happy person in school is out for your blood

•The day that she’s sat next to Parr in the seating plan is the day she moves schools

•Even then Parr still tracks her down

•She waits for them at the school gate with the most murderous smile on her face

•You just see Anne behind her chewing gum, snapping her fingers and doing jazz hands

•And the person is rapidly dialing their parents while screaming MOM COME PICK ME UP I'M SCARED

•Suddenly Aragon pulls up with the others and shouts at the pair “get in losers we’re going shopping”

"How the hell did you even find them Cathy?"

"I just followed the smell of crippling debt and it led me here."

“No seriously how?”

“Anne never turns her snapmaps off”

•Also Parr made the PE teacher cry more than once. More than twice. Okay it was 27 times.

•Parr has a pen knife and people try to confiscate it but she just brings out a printed sheet of paper that says that “a knife may be carried as a self defence weapon if it is under 9 inches and is retractable”

•She made the history teacher quit.

•One time she threatened to give someone salmonella because they were giving Anne and Kat a hard time

•Both Anne and Kat are in special ed and someone thought it'd be funny to bully them cuz of it

•She was skipping class in the toilets and two girls walk in and start bad mouthing Anne and Kitty so she kicks open her door and looks at them whilst sucking a lolly pop “hello bitches say goodbye to ur eyebrows”

•Parr is super defensive of the two of them

•She teases them sure but if anyone else tries, they have to sleep with one eye open

•Anne and Kat don't understand why people keep coming up and apologizing to them

•When they ask Parr, she just shrugs and smiles

•Parr used to be super motivated back in year seven. When year eleven rolled around, she became a little more rebellious, first the name tags, then the mouthing off. Then it escalated further and further. No one else but Parr and Anne knows what happened to cause this change

•Parr is soft for Anne and Kat and Anne and Kat alone

•She roughs up Aragon, Seymour and Cleves bc she knows they can take it. She's soft when she needs to be and not many people see that side of her

•Her favourite teachers rarely see that side either. Only during teacher's day when she sneaks into the staffroom to give them homemade cookies

•Parr wears leather jackets to class and no one dares question her.

•Anne learnt Chinese and how to play the guitar during detention so that she could sing for Parr the next time they had a session together

•Anne singing Unchained Melody exactly like in ghost the musical, and does the little elvis riff too

•Parr and Anne facetime and do Kahoots together because they need to study aka theyre competitive as shit

•Cathy gets excited in class and stands on her chair and yells "I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK. U COMING TO KILL ME???" And promptly gets removed from the class.

•Parr gets a "Little Miss Adventurous" award for having the most travelled converstation.

BONUS:

•The queens doing that egg project where they have to bring an egg home and keep it for a week

•Anne calls hers Eggward Eggburt.

•Aragon drops it the moment she gets it

•Anne brings the egg home and makes it into an omelette

•Jane does well till the sixth day where she goes fuck it and uses it to bake cookies.

•Cleves breaks it during lunch after Anne called her a name and she threw it at her

•Kat gives hers to Jane and it's baked into chocolate chip cookies

•Parr shuts hers in the fridge for a week and takes it out at the end of the week

•Anne gets asked where her egg is and she pats her stomach which results in Kitty yelling “YOURE PREGNANT?!”

•Jane gets asked where her egg is and she holds up this cookie jar and offers the teacher one

•Parr is praised for being the only one in class for having an intact egg and then she grabs the egg and breaks it on the teacher's head cuz she 'needed to shut up'

#anne boleyn #six the musical #millie o'connell #aimie atkinson #katherine howard #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #grace mouat

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lilulo-12fanfiction · 5 years

Text

Wonder of You- 2

Chapter 2- In The Before

So the spacing on this since I’m posting on the mobile app is weird. I’ll see how it looks on my laptop tomorrow and I’ll throw in the “read more” link then too.

Thanks for the likes, comments and re-blogs!

Tag List:

@deans-baby-momma @fandom-princess-forevermore

Series Masterlist

"How is she Bobby?" Dean was pacing in his motel room. He spent more time on hunts alone than he did with his father at this point. Blake had been with Bobby for almost 6 months and Dean still hadn't seen her. True to her word she called him once she got to Bobby's, but her calls were far and few between. It gutted him that he could tell even by her voice she wasn't his Blake. Something was different.

"She's the same Dean. She's broken, more emotionally than physically. She gave up the life she knew to try and live a dream that was snatched away from her. She tried to go back to her old life and she was told no. Nothing is the same. Sam is in California. She barely hears from John. She's hurting and she's healing. She enrolled at the University. She's overworking herself. She's planning on getting her degree at an accelerated rate. She's studying something to do with computers. In her down time, which there isn't much of, she's helping me with research or messing around with cars on the lot. The day she got back, she tore down that dance studio I made for her. She wont talk Dean, not about anything that matters." Bobby sighed. He and Dean had the same conversation almost every day.

"And you still think I should stay away?" Dean had mentioned coming out a few times but Bobby told him not to. She was in a state and he wasn't sure if Dean being there would be helpful or harmful.

"Dean, for now, I think it's the best. Stick to phone calls. She feels rejected. Like you think she can't help or take care of herself. She's stubborn and she's tough. She's probably tougher than you are. Let her wounds heal a little bit. She's been through a lot. With what happened to her parents, then being with you 3 and then everything that has happened since. She needs space. Give it to her. If she needs you, or if it seems like you being here will be better for her, I'll call you. Tell that father of yours to call her more often too. I've been after him, but he's, well he's your father."

"I just miss her Bobby. And before you even say it, I know it isn't about me. That's why I haven't showed up there. I don't even talk to my father that often other than him sending me on cases. Does she at least talk to Sammy?"

"Everyday Dean. He calls her every day. They talk for at least a half an hour. He's worried about her too. He's been trying to get her to go back to California but she refuses. She wont tell him this, but seeing him so settled and happy with that girl, it makes her feel worse. And you know how much she loves him and fought for him to have the life he wants. She doesn't want to bring him down." It stung that she talked to Sam everyday and not him.

"Her nightmares?"

"Two, sometimes three a night. She doesn't talk about them. But I hear her. She knows I'm here for her if she needs me. I can't push her."

"Maybe she needs to be pushed." Dean clenched his jaw.

"Well you might be right. When I think we need to try that, you'll be my first call. Listen, I have to get back to work."

"Ok Bobby. Tell her I called...tell her to please call me back and that I miss her."

"I will Dean. Talk to you soon." Bobby hung up before Dean could say anything more. He was halfway to Sioux Falls and pulled off at the next exit. He had been toying with whether or not to show up and ignore what Bobby wanted. But maybe he was right. She needed that space. He decided to find a motel to stay at for the night and wait for his father to send him his next case.

“Blake, it’s me. Call me back. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for 2 months and you’re giving me the slip. Bobby is worried. It’s bad if Bobby is worried. If I don’t hear from you I’m coming to Sioux Falls. You can’t avoid me forever.”

It had been 8 months since he last saw her, and two months since he heard her voice other than her voicemail message. From what Bobby had told him she I was completely withdrawn. She barely ate. She was at the bar every night, a lot of times she did t even go home. Bobby didn’t know what to do. She was like a baby doe, he was afraid to take a step and scare her. She wasn’t her. He decided in that moment he wasn’t going to wait for her to call back. He was going to see her. Maybe he had been wrong by turning her away. He wanted to keep her safe, but this wasn’t safe. She was being reckless. For whatever reason, Bobby couldn’t give her the tough love she needed, so he would do it.

——————————————————————————

He rolled in at about 6am after driving all night. A 10 hour drive took him about 7. Bobby was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her, concern etched all over his face.

“Did she not come home again?” Bobby shook his head.

“She’s gone.”

“What the hell do you mean she’s gone?!” Dean didn’t normally yell at Bobby and Bobby would normally take him to task for it. Neither one of them were quite themselves.

“She left a letter. Well two, one for me and then one for you. Yours seems a little longer than mine.” Dean took it from him and headed into the living room to read it. He ran his hand down his face and opened the envelope.

I’m Sorry D. For so many things. I’m sorry for giving you the slip for so long. I’m sorry for telling Bobby to not let you come. I’m sorry for being such a coward and running when I knew you were coming. Just know that I’m safe. I’m on my way back to California. I really love it out there. I found a really cute house to rent on the beach. I’m close to Sam and Jess. I’ll be okay.

The truth is, emotionally, I’m a mess. I’m a broken down basket case. I’ve lost the things that defined who I am. Ballet, dancing, it was my anchor to my past. It was the only thing apart of me that was from my parents. My mother loved ballet. Did I ever tell you she was a dancer too? I wish I talked about them more. I feel like I’m forgetting them. My memories of them are fading. It’s like loosing them for a second time. But no matter where we were and what school I was at I was always that weird ballet dancer. I was always the daughter of John Winchester. And now I’m not either. It was always me and my boys against the world. I can’t tell you the last time I heard from John. I do know the last time I saw him was when I woke up after being hit by the car. And now we’re all apart.

John and Sammy don’t speak. You and Sammy....I’m not sure if you speak but I know you two won’t ever be the same.

And then there’s you and me. I don’t even know where to begin. All I know is that when I’m with you I can’t think clearly. And I need to be able to think to figure out who I really am. At the same time, I can't breath without you. So until I can figure things out, I have to hold my breath and put my broken pieces in order. It would be so easy to let you come here and patch me up with tape and glue, but that wouldn’t solve anything, I would just fall apart after the next crisis because there will always be a next crisis. It's who we are. So I have to do this on my own.

I think the space will help things cool down between us too. It’s not the right time for us. So for now, I’m going to put our prom and that night at the beach before everything came crashing down and put it in the back of my mind so we can go back to what we were before that. I need my best friend right now, without any expectations. Maybe someday the time will be right, in fact I'm count on it.

I will call you when I’m ready to talk, but don’t stop calling me. Your voicemails make me smile, even when you’re yelling at me to call you. Or ranting at me because Bobby is telling you I'm not taking care of myself. Call me after every hunt and let me know what happened and that you’re okay. I just need to know that you're okay.

Sammy is going to take care of me, I promise. Well he promised, but you don’t have to worry okay? Please don’t worry. Until I see you. XoXo

Always-

Blake

Dean could hear her voice in his head as he read it. The way she would pause, the quirky breaks in her voice. Her pleading with him not to worry. He just wanted to be with her again. He wanted to hear her laugh at his dumb jokes and sing along with her crappy music in the car. He never should have sent her away. He never should have listened to his father that she should be out of this life. She was this life. That's why she didn't feel like she knew who she was anymore. She didn't belong in a normal life, she was like him. Sammy, he longed for the normal. He fit right in. She didn't, she never would. She and Dean were the same. He didn't know if it made him love her more or hate himself more.

"You okay?" Bobby stood in the doorway surveying the aftermath of Blake's departure.

"Yeah Bobby. I'm good." Bobby rolled his eyes. Dean was ever the stoic.

"Well you look like crap. Go get some shut eye." Dean nodded and stood. He looked back at Bobby before he went to go find a bed to crash in. "She'll be fine Dean. She'll be with Sam. The only other person in this world that cares about her almost as much as you do. He'll make sure she's taken care of and as happy as she can be. Just give her some time." Dean nodded and headed to bed.

——————————————————————————

The last time Blake had been on a beach had been with him. Part of her wished he was there with her, the other part was glad he wasn't. She didn't want him to ever see her like this. A shell of the person she used to be. She suspected it would happen eventually. She had bounced back from her parents murder like a super ball. No one was THAT well adjusted. Bobby had been great, he let her do her thing, but then she noticed he started to worry more. He had kept Dean at bay for almost a year and she still wasn't ready to see him. She over heard Bobby's last conversation with Dean and she knew she had to get the hell out of dodge before he showed up in Sioux Falls. If he had gotten there before she left, she never would have left at all. She was a low life coward and she knew she had hurt him once again. Maybe they were destined to just hurt each other with only snippets of happiness. She didn't want to believe that, but so far that had been their story.

It was two and a half days since she left South Dakota and she was standing on the edge of the Pacific Ocean in a pair of shorts and a sweat shirt. The salty air nipped through her hair. This was peace. It was too early to pick up the keys to her rental and it was definitely too early to go see Sam. The sun was barely rising over the horizon. She should have been exhausted, but the smell of the ocean had energized her. She looked at her phone, a single, short message from John. "Safe Travels Sweetheart" was all he had said. Maybe he thought since she was an adult she didn't need him anymore. That couldn't be further from the truth, but the loss of Sam and his obsession with the Yellow Eyed Demon had taken him over. They had all changed. She hadn't been the only one.

The Winchester men were nothing if not consistently stubborn. 3 pig headed morons in one family was too much. Sam should understand why John was angry. Well his hurt came off as anger. John should have understood Sam's need for something different. Dean should have just supported them both. She just wanted all 4 of them to be together again in one place, but she knew the chances of that were slim to none. She sat down in the sand to enjoy the peace and quiet until it was time to get into her house and get her life back together.

——————————————————————————

October 2005

"C'mon you guys!! We're late" Blake yelled up the stairs to Sam and Jess. There she stood in her Holly Golightly costume. She had opted for the popular bedtime costume of the tuxedo shirt, sleep mask and messy hair. She had a pair of teal slippers on to match her eye mask.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Sam laughed as he came down the steps. "I see you finally found a costume that you didn't have to brush your hair for."

"Eat a bag of dicks." she crossed her arms in front of her, pursing her lips. After giving him the once over. "Why aren't you wearing a costume?"

"Because I'm not 12."

"Because you're a loser." She shot back. When she saw Jess coming down the stairs she let out a low whistle. "At least I wont have the shortest hemline tonight."

"Yeah for once." Jess laughed.

"You guys are both assholes and I hate you both." She squealed as Sam put her in a headlock. "C'mon, this messy hair look took me an hour! You're such a tremendous losers."

"C'mon you two, lets go." As Sam let Blake go she punched him in the stomach and ran out of the house as he keeled over in the kitchen. "You two are children." Jess muttered as she went outside.

Blake sipped on her Jack and Ginger as Jess, Sam and Luis discussed his LSAT scores and upcoming interview. She stared at her phone willing it to ring or for a text to pop up. She felt eyes on her and looked up at Sam. "Brian still hasn't called?" Sam's voice was laced with sympathy. "Brian? Oh God no...I ended that like two weeks ago. He just didn't stick." she shrugged. Sam studied her face. "Who are you waiting on?" Sam knew the answer before he even asked the question. He watched as her expression changed and she furiously responded to a text message on her phone. "No one. Listen, this blows. I'm gonna grab a cab and head home." Sam shook his head. "No Way, you're not leaving alone, I'll drive you home." Blake rolled her eyes. "No...there are a million cabs outside, it's Halloween. I'll get door to door service. You stay with Jess and celebrate. You did great kid. You're going to be a big shot lawyer and live the life of your dreams. I'm just not feeling this tonight. I'll text you when I get home. Besides, we both know that I can take care of myself. God help anyone if they tried to jump me." Sam laughed. "What about you Blake? Do you have the life of your dreams?" She scoffed. "I'm a part time paramedic and I teach dance to toddlers. I'm not exactly living anyone's dream, but it's not so bad. I'm good Sam. Really. I've been good for a long time." She stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll talk to in the morning." She slipped out of the booth and said goodbye to Jess and Luis before Sam could protest. She couldn't tell him why she was really leaving.

As the cab pulled in front of her place, she saw the car. She hadn't seen that car in almost 3 years. She felt the excitement bubbling inside of her. The cab barely came to a stop when she was throwing money and yelling about keeping the change. He must have been watching in the rear view mirror of his car because as soon as her feet hit the pavement he was climbing out of the Impala. And then she ran, and before he knew what hit him she had jumped into his arms and was squeezing him for dear life.

"Jesus Blake. You knocked the wind out of me." he was laughing as he said it. She peeled her face from his shoulder so she could look at him, that signature crinkle in the corner of his green eyes showing. "God I missed you sweetheart." She didn't even balk at the pet name. She just hugged him again. As he set her down, he gave her a once over. "What the hell are you wearing? Did you even brush your hair?" She stared at him for a moment. If he and Sam only knew how alike they really were. She gave him a beaming grin. "What?"

"Nothing D. This is my costume. It's Halloween." He squinted in confusion as he stared at her and then she saw the light go off.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's. One of your favorites. Please tell me you didn't go to a bar without pants." She shook her head.

"Ever the protector Winchester. I have spandex shorts on. C'mon, lets go inside. This may be California but I'm freezing."

"Good to know some things never change." She took his hand and led him to the house. She paused for a moment and turned to him. He raised his eyebrows. "We are never going this long without seeing each other again." And then she was pulling him along again.

——————————————————————————

"So Paramedic huh?" Dean was impressed. She smiled at him for what seemed like the 100th time in the past hour. "Yeah...if you thought I was great at stitching people up before, you should see me now. Barely leave a scar. And now, I could hook you up to an IV and you wouldn't even feel it. Good skills to have." Dean had a feeling where it was going, or at least he hoped he did. He wouldn't ask her, but he wouldn't tell her no either. "I'm teaching dance classes too." Both of his eyebrows shot up. "I thought you were done with that?" She sighed. "I was, for a while. It hurt, emotionally, so I had to let it go. But then, once I felt more settled with myself, I realized it could still be apart of me. Just because I can't be a Prima Ballerina doesn't mean I can't still dance. It wont ever be professionally because my body couldn't take it anymore, not after the accident. I teach more modern and lyrical dances. It's fun, the girls have a lot of fun. I have some really talented boys too." Dean felt his insides sink. He was hoping she wouldn't be so settled, which he immediately felt guilty for. She was studying his face as the thoughts ran through his head. She was trying to figure out what he was thinking, but they were too out of sync for her to know by looking at him right now.

"Dean." She put her hands on his. He pulled himself from his thoughts and looked at her. "Don't take this the wrong way, because I am beyond thrilled that you are, but why are you here? I didn't think I'd ever get you in the state of California, let alone near Sam." He shook his head. "No, I want to talk more about you first." She closed her eyes and counted to three internally, he knew she was doing it, she had the look of exasperation on her face. "Dean...there's plenty of time for that. What do you need? I know it's something big, you wouldn't be here if it wasn't." He gave her a half smile, out of sync or not, she still knew him. "My Dad is missing. He was on a hunt and I...I don't know. He's gone. Something happened. I was hoping you would be able to convince Sam to come with me." She nodded. "Just Sam?" He wouldn't make eye contact with her, but he felt her blue-green eyes burning a hole in him. "I can't ask you. You're happy. You seem really freaking happy. The last time I saw you, you were so hurt and so angry. I wont mess that up." She scoffed at him.

"Dean...I've been sitting here for almost two years waiting for you to ask me to come back." his eyes slowly gazed up to her face. "Yeah, being a paramedic is great. I love saving people. And I have a lot of fun teaching my kids. But I have NEVER been happier than when I was on the road with you. I always thought it was the three of you that made me so happy. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't dying to have Sammy with us too. But it was you, it's always been you that made me feel safe. You're home. Not some house, not some job that anyone can do with the right training. You and that Impala. That's home. I love saving people...and not many people can save innocent lives the way we can. My bags are packed Dean. They've been packed since you told me three days ago you were coming. I already quit my jobs and boxed up everything I don't need and already shipped it to Bobby. Because I'm either going with you, or I'm getting in my own damn car and going out on my own. I don't need you, Bobby or John to give me leads. I can find my own. So if you'll have me, I'll call Bobby in the morning and have him send someone to get my Jeep and bring it back to his place. Or I'm going to find John on my own." He chuckled. "How long have you been planning that speech?" She smiled at him again. "Since the day I realized I was okay and I was ready. Well?" He pulled her into a soul crushing hug. "You and me kid. C'mon, let's go get your stuff and get Sammy."

After she changed into shorts and a t-shirt, they loaded the rolling suitcase and duffel bag she had packed into the trunk. "Sammy was right that first night you came to us. You have a lot of stuff." She glared at him as she put the blanket and pillow in the back seat along with her big purse. "Shut up...I'm a girl and we just have more stuff." He shook his head at her and they climbed into the car. "The pillow and blanket though?" She shrugged. "I've spent more time sleeping in that back seat than an actual bed. I figure I may as well be comfortable doing it. Turn left at the light." She directed as she settled into the familiar car. It smelled like Dean. Leather, sandalwood, mint and whisky. "You really didn't tell Sammy I was coming?" She stared at him for a moment. "Are you really that dumb? How many times do I have to tell you that I'll take any secret you have to the grave. I wouldn't betray you like that." They rode in a comfortable silence with Blake pointing out directions until they were in front of Sam and Jess' place.

"They're sleeping, you should have gotten here sooner." She groaned. "What? And miss you in that Halloween costume. Hell no. I'm just going to go in and get him."

"Dean....the doors are locked." He shrugged. "So you're going to break in. Perfect. Listen...if you end up with a broken jaw or shot, I don't want to hear it." Dean gave her his most mischievous grin and headed towards the house. She got out of the car and made her way to the driver's side and leaned against the vehicle with her arms crossed. The night was perfectly silent and she heard the scuffle in the house. She prayed Sam didn't shoot him. She let the breath she was holding go when she heard Sam yell Dean's name. Sam was going to be pissed at her. One...for letting Dean break in and two not letting him know his brother was in town. Dean asked her not to and she wouldn't ever break his trust. Half an hour later after the lights had been turned on, Dean jogged out of the house with Sam not far behind. His eyes widened when he saw her standing there. She wiggled her fingers in a wave and opened the door to climb in the back behind Dean. Sam grabbed her arm before she could get in.

"Seriously Blake? You knew he was going to show up here. You knew he was going to drag me into this?" She flinched at his tone and yanked her arm away. "First off, don't EVER grab me like that again, that fucking hurt. Second of all, I had NO idea WHY he was coming here. He didn't tell me until I pulled it out of him a half hour before we came here." Sam gave her apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your arm. I'm just...I don't know. But you knew he was coming?" She nodded. "Sam...he asked me not to say anything. I honestly thought he was just coming to see me and he didn't want to see you. I had no idea John was missing. And even if I did, he asked me not to say anything. You know I wont." Sam gave her a stern look. "So much for loyalty." Now it was Blake grabbing his arm. "Hey! No! You don't get to be mad at me Sam. I’m in the middle of all this shit. I haven’t seen John since my accident because he’s so pissed at me for not being pissed at you and for keeping YOUR secret. You think I like feeling like the kid of divorced parents between you and Dean? Do you have any idea how hard this has been? Sam...you saved me. You helped put me back together when I was in pieces. You’re my best friend.You know I love you.” He scoffed. “Just not as much or the way you love Dean.” Dean was back by the porch letting them have it out. He jumped back when he saw Blake slap Sam. They never fought. This was his fault. Blake stalked towards him.

“Let him hear the message. I’m going in to say goodbye to Jess. She’s been really good to me. I can’t leave without thanking her.”

“Blake wait.” He grabbed her hand lightly. She turned to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle.” She shook her head and linked her pinky with his.

“To the grave.” She patted the side of his face with her free hand and went into the house.

——————————————————————————

“Ugh freaking ghosts!” Blake yelled from the back of the Impala holding a towel to the gash on her thigh. It had been a stressful few days. Finding John’s hotel room, but no John. Dean getting arrested. The woman in white trying to kill Sam. The ghosts of her babies. Blake had a feeling she had a fresh batch of nightmares coming her way.

“I told you not to wear shorts.” Dean laughed when she kicked the back of his seat.

“The glass would have gone through the denim. It’s not indestructible.”

“And yet I have no injuries.”

“We can change that you know.” Sam laughed. They hadn’t mentioned the argument since they hit the road. Sam looked in the back and saw Blake slip thread through a needle.

“Are you giving yourself stitches?!” Sam was wide eyed.

“You two cavemen will leave me with a nasty scar. I’m an artist.” She shrugged. Dean looked at her in the rear view mirror.

“You’re a bad ass.” Blake looked up and grinned at him.

Once Blake was done covering her stitch job she leaned her head back against the back seat, tuning the boys out, thoughts consumed with John. Where was he? Was he alive? She felt the fear in her stomach clench. She’d give anything to find him, found her after all. She was snapped out of his thoughts as the Impala slowed near Sam’s house. She climbed out of the back and made her way over to the passenger side. Sam got out and before she could even say anything he scooped her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry for what I said B. I was just upset and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” She pulled back and smiled at him pushing his hair off of his forehead. “You were right in a sense. I do love him differently, but it doesn’t mean I love you less. Like I said, you were the one that saved me.” He hugged her tightly again. “Are you sure you want to go with Dean? You had a pretty nice life here.” Blake let go of Sam, she looked down for a moment and back up to his eyes. “Sammy, you were meant for this life. Me? Not so much. It’ll never stick, not really. This hunt? First time I really felt like me in I don’t know how long. I have to find your Dad.” San nodded and she continued. “You’re going to kill that interview tomorrow, and then you’ll be a big shot lawyer and keep Dean and I out of jail.” Sam laughed and pulled away “You call me as soon as you’re out if that interview. Kiss Jess for me and tell her I said thank you again for everything and I’ll call her.” Sam hugged Blake quickly again and kissed the top of her head before heading to his house. Once Blake was settled into the passenger seat Dean started to pull away.

“I can’t wait to shower and burn these clothes. No way the blood is coming out of this white shirt...Dean? Are you listening to me?” She noticed he was staring at his watch and then threw the Impala into a U-Turn. “Dean, you’re scaring me!” She cried. Dean parked in front of Sam’s and jumped out of the car.

“Stay here Blake!” Dean yelled as he ran inside. Blake got out of the car when she saw flames in Sam’s bedroom window. She grabbed a hoodie out of the back seat to throw on over her shirt. She knew the fire department would be there soon. Dean was dragging Sam out of the house. She knew it wasn’t the time to ask. She looked at Dean and mouthed “Jess?” And he shook his head. She felt the tears welling in her eyes. Another person they loved was gone. The look in Sam’s eyes told her this fire wasn’t an accident and it wasn’t just a fire. She stuffed her feelings down. She’d feel them later. She knew Sam was with them now for the long haul.

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boogiewrites · 5 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 85

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Breakdown

Summary: Genevieve’s behavior comes to a head and Alfie is forced to act as the harsh voice of reason. He's left to act in his personal life as he does in his business where he does the things no one else wants or is willing to. But he'd do anything for his Genny. Song is Breakdown by Tom Petty.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Angst. Drug Abuse. Trauma. Self Hatred. Fighting, verbal and physical.

There had been a shift in the energy of the house after Claire and Genevieve’s altercation. Genevieve was trying to behave but finding it nearly impossible. The pull of the promise of relief from her medicine was too seductive to deny for long. Each dose was reacted to like some rare delicacy, with closed eyes and moans. She couldn’t control herself. Her mind was crowded with so much the more time passed. More memories and complicated waves of emotions she didn’t understand, left her feeling overpowered no matter what she did.

She was trying and it could be seen by everyone, but she would drop everything for her medicine and it was obvious there was still dependence there no matter how little they gave her. A nervous tick when it got close to the time for it, nose twitching and eyes fluttering, trying to stay still and waiting for someone to mention it because she knew she couldn’t first. Then she’d be given that look again, and she hated the humiliation that came with it.

She tries to fill the shame, the hurt and the anger with something. She studies, but that leads to headaches and a sore throat. She paints and the things that come out are dark and twisted and make those around her uncomfortable and worry about her. She dresses up, trying to see herself how she was, but it all felt like a sham. There was no confidence where it once lived. She eats and bakes, finding a productive distraction and gaining a slight bit of weight from where she’d lost it. But her appetite was still lackluster, the medicine saw to that. She wasn’t ready to try to add her former most favorite vice, sex, to the list but at least she could fathom the idea of it without becoming physically ill. Maybe things were getting better. But the voice in her head told her no as soon as the thought passed. That she was still very much broken and a failure, feeling slow in both mind and body still it was hard for her to be positive about anything. The depression was starting to set in.

With a memory that left something to be desired still, she’s grown the tendency to be forgetful. Clumsy and forgetful was preferred to hallucinating and passed out to everyone but her. The constant state of being aware of controlling herself left her exhausted most days and always on edge. She has the occasional tantrum, it couldn’t be helped, and with the lack of medicine given to help her calm down, it only made her angrier and fueled the fire of her fits. They were less often now, but more intense when they did happen. Big sweeping mood swings that took her wherever they wanted and she was was left to be used by her whims, whether the actions she took were something she wanted to do or not. They left her a crying mess. She only wanted to feel normal again. She didn’t know who this woman was that she’d become. She hates the anger she felt about her cravings for the medicine. She hates the flux of the ups and downs from it, but in her desperate moments, it’s the only thing that gives her some stability. She didn’t want to need it the way she did, another layer of anger born from shame. She felt weak and that was something she didn’t have much experience with.

On an afternoon spent dressing herself up for no reason, just passing time and listening to music to keep herself in good spirits she’s met with an undiagnosed stressor that had slipped between the cracks. A gossip hound by the name of Dorothy who did not have Genevieve’s best interests at heart. She was paid for information, not to tell that she was doing better. A saboteur sent in by one of the posh Jewish elite who did not approve of the Alfie and Gen’s underground lifestyle. Striking while the iron was hot and they were both at the most vulnerable they’ve ever been, Dorothy was there to make sure things didn’t run too smoothly for too long. Coming from the former biggest gossip in all of London’s employ, she knew how to stir a pot. And poor Gen, trusting those around her, as she had no other choice but to in her condition, never saw it coming.

“The horn section is lovely isn’t it?” Dorothy states, dusting around the gramophone.

The use of the word makes Gen’s nose twitch just as the maid knew it would. “Yes it is.” she answers with fluttering eyes and reaching for her large powder puff to fan herself with.

“I say, you’re looking rather glowing today, Miss. Like an inner light is coming out. I’m sure Mr. Solomons loves that you’re putting forth the effort in your appearance, hmm?” she makes casual sounding backhanded compliments as she moves around the room.

She sees Gen’s body language tighten and she keeps smiling as she works.

“You’ve put on some weight too I see. Filling out nicely. Looking healthy. All good things.” she chirps. “One would think there could be a little Solomons on the way with how you’re looking.” she gives an innocent scrunch of her nose and a kind smile. “Absolutely radiant.” she ends with a flourish. “And wouldn’t a baby be lovely? An excuse for all those sweets you’ve been making!” she lets out a light-hearted laugh. “Afterall, not many men would’ve stayed around through all this. You’re so very lucky to have Mr. Solomons. What a patient man.” she speaks softly.

“Yes. I am.” she mumbles, face turning downward now.

“Well, I’m finished in here. Anything else you need miss?” she asks putting a hand to Gen’s shoulder.

“No. Thank you.” she replies softly, eyes not meeting the maids, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

“I don't care what anyone else says, I think you’re progressing just fine.” she gives a supportive nod. “Especially for what you’ve been through. My goodness. What a tragedy to befall such a woman who had such strengths. Surely a test. One you’re still working on mastering. We’re all waiting and watching...rooting for you Miss Durand. Have a good afternoon.” she says trotting out of the room, knowing the seeds were planted to make an eventful evening.

Every line had felt like a slap to the face for Gen. Every worry she had, some she hadn’t yet, all brought back out to the surface in a single conversation. If Gen had been herself she would’ve been impressed with the woman’s skill. Then she would have killed her of course for saying such things, but in this emotional state, she only felt sorry for herself. She looked at herself in the mirror. Were her breasts bigger? Was she getting too fat? Everyone was waiting for her to screw up again, she knew it. Apparently people were saying she wasn’t healing fast enough, but of course, they were. She wasn’t. And poor Alfie...he had been on the sidelines, merely a bystander in all this. It truly was a miracle he was still around. At this point he would be better off without her she thinks. She was only making his life harder.

Her eyes trail down to her stomach and she feels it flip with nausea. She had asked the doctor every time they were alone if her not bleeding was normal. There were no signs of pregnancy he said and the body can react wildly after trauma. That there was nothing he saw to worry about. But it didn’t stop the panic rising in her chest and bubbling up and out her throat in a choked sob. What if she was? What if a constant reminder of her weakness and this awful period of time we’re sitting right there. Taking root. It was her greatest fear and Dorothy had played into it seamlessly. All she had wanted before was to be pregnant. A happy accident, despite her timing the inward emissions of Alfie in her favor. Her mind had been all babies and happy thoughts attached and now it was of shame and upset. By far the biggest trigger of them all. She thinks of the children she’s seen. Wondering if they were a sign. Her dreams came true on occasion, so why not hallucinations?

Her hands clutch at the dress she wears, feeling sick rise in her throat. She gets intrusive thoughts of the time held captive again. Blood. So much blood. These were new, these weren’t her normal violent flashbacks, her eyes well up with tears and she starts to sob, feeling it all over again. Why was there so much blood she wondered? She feels it as if it’s real. Blood thick and caked on her skin, from her temples to her thighs, the sticky and awful feeling, the constant reminder of how battered she was. The constant worry there was too much of it, that was something was wrong with her. That panic takes hold of her and she starts wheezing, not catching her breath, holding her chest and gasping. She raises, wild-eyed and tries to make it to the bed to lie down, count like the doctor told her. But it was no use. This was too strong and she was too weak she thought. She knew what she needed.

She races in her tiny heels to the back innards of teh house to Aggie’s room. She’s in such a state she doesn’t hear Alfie calling for her as he sees her making a mad dash. Of course, his instinct is something is terribly wrong. And in a way it was, so he follows suit. He finds her on her knees with one of her hairpins in Aggie’s locked door.

His worry is replaced with hot anger, having to watch Gen give in and relapse in front of his eyes. “Gen!” he booms out and she doesn’t even notice. She barrels through the door and rummages loudly through Aggie’s things, finding the bottle of Morphine and finding it severely lacking in its contents.

She whimpers and whines, shaking it over her gaping mouth as she cries, mascara running down her face. She keeps wheezing, now at a total loss for how to handle herself.

Alfie barges in like a bull, one big swipe knocks the bottle out of her hands and it breaks against the wall. Her eyes turn large and terrified to him, but he doesn’t feel sympathy in the moment, only disappointment and anger. “Fuck’s sake Genevieve! Get ahold of yourself!” he says loudly as she cries, looking back over to where the bottle had broken.

“I can’t! I need it! I need it to STOP!” she wails loudly her head shaking back and forth dramatically.

“Gen!” he shouts again and she doesn’t stop, hands in her hair and groaning.

She was so desperate to make the fear and thoughts stop. But she just saw him there, silhouetted by that shifting yellow light over her. “I’m too weak. I can’t. I’m pathetic. It won't stop.” she pants, her face contorted into an ugly mash of pain and confusion.

“Get ahold of yourself woman!” he shouts, grabbing her tightly by the arms, making her stop hurting herself.

The rough handling of her snaps her from her self pity and kicks in her fight response. Her head snaps up, eyes dilated and black, intense as they glared into his own. “Don’t touch me!” she screams and struggles.

“I can’t fuckin’ trust you can I? Ya gonna fuckin’ hurt yaself!” he growls back as they wrestle back and forth. She was a lot stronger in the moment that he thought she could be in her condition.

“Stop it!” she fights back, kicking at him as he holds her up from falling and hurting herself, hitting something on the way down to the ground.

“No!” he yells angrily. “Look at you! Gen! Fuckin’ ‘ell girl CALM DOWN!” he roars, having to haul her back onto her feet.

She stops struggling and stands, face now full of betrayal as she shakes with the underlying anger.

“You need to get a grip on yaself Genny! Look at you! Why are you actin’ like this? Like a fuckin’ fiend! Are we going to have to lock you up next? Can you not be trusted anymore?” he asks with a low brow and harsh delivery.

“Let me go.” she demands, struggling against him mildly, her eyes looking more her old self in their fury.

“Fuckin’...NO! Why would I? Look at how you’re actin’! What is wrong with you?” he groans out loudly as her jaw clenches and she slaps him across the face, resulting in him very calmly letting her go and clenching his hands into fists at his sides. His nostrils flared and his eyes remained shut. He wasn’t going to hit her back. He wasn’t that sort of man. But she was bringing out the worst in him. They were bringing out the worst in each other.

“Don’t fucking touch me like that!” she shrieks, adjusting her dress. “I have a reason for acting this way! What about YOU?” she responds, shoving him out of the way and running off down the hall.

With her dress pulled high, she needed to escape. She needed out and away. She heads straight for the door, Joseph tottering after her as the staff had gathered cautiously to see what was happening.

“We’re going to London Joseph.” she announces with wild eyes and confidence to her face she hadn’t felt and no one had seen in some time.

“Miss I don’t think-”

“You are going to drive me to London or I will fucking DO IT MYSELF!” she screams as he hunches down and does as he’s told. What other choice did he have? “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I need to get out of my own head. I can’t stay. I can’t do it.” she mutters to herself, head shaking back and forth as they drive off as were her orders.

“Why are you just standing there! Go after her!” Aggie shouts in Alfie’s face, him standing where Gen had left him as he rubbed his temples.

“Send some of my boys after her. Watch her. We know what she’s fuckin’ doin’.” he shakes his head, his voice quiet and even.

“How are you so bloody calm?”

“Aggie... sweetie... calm is the last thing I am right now.” his voice was a deep hiss, his eyes almost hidden behind low brows. “But I...in my line of work have MUCH practice in withholding my true emotions. And I am using it to its full extent right now.” his jaw is tight, speaking through clenched teeth as he cracks his knuckles.

“But she’s ran away?”

“No. She’s going to get well pissed. That’s what she’s doin’. There wasn't enough of this fuckin’ JUNK to ease her and now she’s reverting to her immature behavior.”

“She’s not well Alfie, you need to remember.”

“IT’S ALL I FUCKIN THINK ABOUT YEAH?” he shouts in anger before composing himself and Aggie takes a step back. “I want to be so fuckin’ furious at her for this. I know I should be sympathetic. I know she’s not herself. But I am so close to just fucking off right now. And I know I don’t want to do that. And it’s all making me MORE angry because I can’t fuckin' control it. I control things Aggie, that’s what I fuckin’ DO. And I can’t her, right?”

“Neither can she. Remember that.”

“Oh, I do. And it just makes it worse.” he throws his arms up in the air. “I’ll go get her. Fuckin’... AGAIN.” he sighs and shakes his head. “I was prepared, yeah? To deal with the healing. I can grasp that. I can respect it. But this…” he motions to the broken bottle on the floor. “I’m having a bloody hard time respecting this.” he says with a groan. “This is just... weakness. This isn’t her. She’s not Gen when she’s on this shit.” he tells, walking around the bed and crunching the glass under his work boots. “There’s no more of this. Fuck that!” he says pointing to the same spot. “I’m done wif it. I ‘on’t care if the doctor says it’s helpin’, it’s fuckin’ not, right? Don’t get no more. Those are orders. You hear me? I know you’re soft Aggie but it’s time for some tough love for the old girl. Don’t ya think?” he asks, leaning over the small woman as she scrunches her face in a scowl. “This soft fuckin’ treatment innit doin’ a fuckin’ thing. She HATED bein’ coddled before. Remember? Do any of us ever remember fuckin’ BEFORE now?” he sighs and groans, rubbing his face.

“Yes sir.” she says coldly.

“Oh don’t give me that.” he responds with an aggressive nod. “Do you not think it’s time to reign her in?”

“I do. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, I ‘on’t fuckin’ LIKE it either! You think I want to be cruel to her? The woman I’ve promised to care for? To respect and protect?”

“It’s hard to tell with you lately.”

“Well, I fuckin’ don’t. But with someone like her…” he points in the direction Gen fled. “In a situation like this, perhaps sympathy isn’t what is needed. She needs a swift kick to the arse to make her see how she’s actin’. And I’m the only one what will tell her what she don’t wanna hear.”

“I hope you’re right. I’ll call the doctor and tell him no more medicine. In case she tries to get it herself.”

“Good girl.” he says giving her a strong pat the back and sauntering down the hall with hard steps that make his shoulder sway even more than usual.

-----

Genevieve had done exactly as Alfie knew she would. His men were out on alert for her in the city and they found her quickly. Out getting pissed at some east end shit hole where she didn’t have to pay for a thing.

“Alright. She’s had enough.” Alfie instructs, putting his watch back into his coat pocket. “Bring her out.” he orders with a flick of his wrist. “Be gentle but...make her. Try to appeal to her vanity. That usually works.” he states with a stern point of his finger to the lads given the job.

Gen, of course, did not want to leave. She didn’t want to see Alfie or hear about him or any man really. She wanted to be lost in the sounds and movements and be young and wild and free again. But the reality that she could no longer be any of those things, truly, would always come knocking. And in this instance, it was a few of the big boys of Alfie’s she knew. The muscle.

“Miss it’s time to go.” one says in her ear.

“No.” she declares defiantly. Like a child, really.

“Miss I must insist. We’re here on Mr. Solomons orders.”

“Fuck his orders.” she sass’s back and turns away and he takes her by the arm.

“We can take you out of here kicking and screaming but what would the gossip sound like if word were to get around, eh? So why don’t you walk out with us, and no one has to be any wiser as to what’s happening.”

She gives him a look that would normally make him worry, as he had heard about the things she’d done. “Don’t fuckin' touch me.” she growls, jerking out his grip. “Where is the bastard?” she spits out as she begins walking towards the door.

He waits, and it does take longer than expected. But there she came, mad as a wet cat, stomping, and hissing just the same towards his vehicle. She was uneasy on her feet, not stumbling but a drunken sway that told him he’d stopped her at just the right time.

He sits in silence, his hat on, cane in hand and posture straight as he makes her sit with her thoughts as they travel down the road. He eventually turns towards her and she’s pouting out the window.

“Gen, look at me.” he orders.

She, of course, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Sitting with her arms crossed and body language very clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

“Genevieve…” he warns. “Can you even hear me? Ya fuckin’ pissed innit ya?” he scoffs and waits.

She lets out a defiant huff through her nose.

“Fuckin’ look at me, woman.” he moves and takes her by the chin. He met with glossy and unfocused eyes and pouting lips. “Look at you…” he shames her and her lip quivers. “Fuckin’ mess.” he tsks and shakes his head. “Can you even respond to me ya little drunkard?” she speaks nothing and tries to move out of his grasp but he’s holding onto her too tightly. “Fuck’s sake Genny.” he presses his lips and sighs.

“I can.” she snaps back. “But what’s the fucking point?” she snarls.

“Because I asked you a fucking question dinnit I? Because you should explain this childish behavior. You’re not a fucking child. You’re not even that young, you’re a grown woman. You know better.” he speaks intensely but with a smooth delivery that makes her wants to slap him again. He was being too condescending. So patronizing it made her sick.

“Clearly I don’t.” she ejects back with a rough turn of her head that knocks her chin out of his grasp. He returns it slowly to the top of his cane.

“You’re some fuckin' junkie now and you’re just gonna give up? One bad thing happens and you just roll over and let your jellied brain just fuck you, eh?” he delivers harshly, knowing the words would hurt her, but it was his role to put the wild thing in her place before, and it only made sense he’d be the one now. He could handle her hating him. More people hated him than liked him, it wasn’t a bother to him. He knew that if she’d see a true relfection of herself, that she’d thank him one day for the honesty.

“One thing?” she shouts. “One fucking thing?” her voice cracks with emotion as she begins speaking with her hands. “My life has been nothing but bad things Alfie!” her voice was exhausted. ”One after another. Every fucking day!” she turns on her knees and screams at him. “I was there for DAYS, the things they did to me?! And you want to say it was ONE thing?” her French accent comes out, her finger pointing in his face as she let go of all that was building up inside her that the Morphine wouldn’t let her feel or communicate. “When you know how I was raised? What my father and his friends did to me? The kind’ve men I’ve had to get close to? The shit I’ve had to eat because of being a woman. ONE THING?” she screams in his face.

“And what good is complainin' and throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin' little girl gonna do, eh?” he keeps his calm, and it makes her angrier. He should be as upset as her she thought. It wasn’t fair he got to be unbothered and she was left a mess.

“Fuck you Alfie!” she barks, sitting back and crossing her arms, looking out the window.

“I’d rather hear that then you feeling sorry for yourself.” he snarks with a raised brow. He was proud of her, actually. This was the most she’d talked about what had happened. She needed to feel these feelings, get them all out and that medicine had stopped it, stunted her and left her in an emotional purgatory.

“We can’t all have steel traps up here can we?” she replies, tapping her temple “We can’t all be fuckin’...made of stone and just push forward no matter what happens. Some of us are SOFT and FEEL things.” she answers with a quieter voice, but that did not mean she was less angry.

“If you think I don’t feel things you’ve not been payin’ attention.” his voice even, and lips pursed.

“So your reaction to my problem is to shake me and shout at me? To give me barked orders like a dog?” she questions incredulously.

“You haven’t listened to anythin' else.” he gives her a side-eyed glance and he can feel the heat radiating off her towards him.

“What else have you tried lately Alfie? Huh? I don’t even remember when I first came home, and I don’t remember you being soft with me once as of late. You’ve just given me that… fuckin’... look.”

“A look?” he answers a mild chortle.

“Yes like that! Like a disappointed father. Like you don’t even want me anymore. I’m just some burden to you.”

“Genny this behavior is a burden for a man like me.” he speaks plainly and it cuts her like a knife.

“Then why don’t you just fucking leave? If you hate me so much?” her eyes welling up with tears now, the anger shifting into hurt.

“I don’t hate you, but you’re actin' like a daft cu-.” he sighs. “I don’t hate you. If I did I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have been dealing with the things I have for you... from you.” he answers with a curt tone, his hand laying out his point as he spoke.

“Do you think what a woman like me needs right now is cold indifference?” her head shakes back and forth, in disbelief at how he was speaking to her.

“I don’t know what the fuck you need any more to be honest. This whole thing has turned you into someone I don’t know.” his eyes were more honest now, she recognized it.

“I could say the same.” she glares back, hiding the swell of emotions inside her. She didn’t want to break down again. She didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. And that was exactly what he had wanted out of her. He didn’t care if she had to use him and spite for him to gain the want to control herself. He just wanted her to control herself.

She sulks the whole way home, the anger fading, turning to sadness with the tiredness that overtook her body. He followed her into the bed room, as if nothing was wrong.

“Why are you staying around me?” she snaps as he sees the softness in her face.

“Because I have to, love.” he replies as he takes off his coat. He knew another flare was incoming.

“Why are you being so mean?” her hard exterior breaks and tears start to fall.

“You want to know? Truly? Can you handle it Genevieve?” he asks with a mean face that shows so sympathy for her tears.

She nods, “Yes. I can.” she says defiantly through tears.

He takes a deep breath and gives her the truth. “Because I just want my Genny back.” he admits with a shake of his head. The brief softness in his eyes making a sob bubble up in her throat. “I don’t know who this drugged up woman is that runs off in the middle of the night.” his voice lacked bite, but still felt harsh as it came out. “You did it once, and I was sympathetic, your sister passin’ ‘n all. But not with this. Not after all this time.” his face hardens, straightening his posture and looking her up and down, judging her. “You’re smarter than this Gen.” he says with exasperation. “You aren’t who I agreed to be with right now. And I just fuckin’ want some relief, I just want my Genny back, love, that’s all.” his brow was hard, his words even more so as they hit her in the chest like a kick.

“I am your Genny.” she sobs, voice so small. Her heart was broken, her faults laid out plainly for her to see. She could no longer ignore them. “I am. I’m just... I’m…” she breaks down and begins to cry. The fog she’d been in gone, the cold reality of her behavior hitting her now. Feeling every little thing, most importantly shame for the right reasons for the first time since the incident.

“But you’re not though are ya?” he leans towards her, his face still cold to her. “You’re not her right now, sweetie. Cause my Genny? She wouldn’t do any of 'is.” he motions to her, half bent and sobbing into her hands as he begins to walk away to leave her to her catharsis.

“I am your Genny!” she shouts and her voice breaks and cries, tears and snot and the whole mess, months of backed up and delayed revelations coming at her, feeling alone and ashamed. She watches him leave the bedroom as she calls out, not seeing the hurt on his own face for putting her through this. But he knew it had to be done, it was his role to be the one to do the things no one else wanted or could.

He sleeps in his old room that night, giving her time to wail it all out. And she did. She cried herself sick. But she didn’t drink, she didn’t ask for medicine, she didn’t ask for anything. She sat in front of the fire, thinking about the past few months and let out everything in wails and sobs. A cleansing she’d desperately needed.

——-

The next morning Alfie's conscience is weighing heavy. It didn’t happen often and he hated the feel of it. But he’d slept like shit and heard her crying all night and had to deal with the dirty looks from Aggie and Claire as he rose from the spare room. He wanders into the kitchen, asking for Genevieve’s favorite tea and sweets. It isn’t questioned and he shuffles his way to her room with the serving tray balanced in his hands. House shoes scuffing the stone floors while his pajamas slicked together from the soft fabric Gen insisted on them being.

She’s asleep in the floor, laid out on pillows and blankets in front of a dying fire. Her hair was covering her face and most of her body, a silk nightgown just visible underneath the veil. He stokes the fire and feeds it, then standing over her and clearing his throat, causing her to stir.

She whines and rubs her face, pushing her hair out of the way of seeing before focusing her eyes on his shoes.

“Oh.” She says sleepily, “It’s you.” She lets him know she wasn’t too keen on seeing him.

“I brought ya your tea and biscuits.” He offers in a friendly voice. Much more polite than anything they exchanged the night before.

“Thanks.” She grumbles, pulling herself off the floor and onto the couch.

“Would you like me to make your tea? Fetch you a robe?” He inquires.

“No.” She answers quickly, moving to prepare her tea herself. “I don’t want to be fucking coddled.” She forced out through a smart tongue.

He doesn’t find himself annoyed at her behavior. Even though that was clearly the case for her towards him. She was a crumpled, sickly looking mess but she was indeed herself. And that’s all he’d wanted. He’d missed that spark, that justified emotion, even anger towards him. He knew she was feeling more herself with her demand and he felt a small glimmer of hope.

“How are you feeling this mornin'?” He inquires with a tilted head her way.

“Like hell.”

“You do favor it, sweetie.” He says with a rub of his chin.

She raises her eyes in a glare his way but finds his face not aggressive. ”You look just as well Alfie.” She snarls back.

“I’d not only agree but say I feel much the same.” He nods and purses his lips I’m hesitant agreement.

“I’m going through withdrawal and dealing with a bastard of a ma What’s your excuse?”

“Dealing with a woman going through withdrawl and being a right bastard.” He retorts.

She actually felt inclined to smile at the remark. That would’ve been the first in months. The first non-drug induced one anyway. Normally the comment would’ve been met with a laugh and a little pinch of the cheeky man. Perhaps even a kiss for the self-deprecating humor. But all he saw was a flash of sarcasm in her eyes, but that was indeed enough to satiate him for now. A “Mmph.” nodded is all he is given in the meantime.

“Do you need anythin' this mornin'?” He asks cautiously. She always asked for her medicine with breakfast when it was not freely given.

“No.” She sighs out, teacup resting on her thigh. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appetite for much of anything else anymore.” Her voice is even but her hands shake. Her color was poorly, dark circles under her eyes and a pale complexion. A light cast of sheen from sweat on her skin. Her stomach growls and she rubs it with a wince. “Just send Aggie in. I’m feeling rather weak in the absence of the medicine and I’ll be taking to my bed today I believe.” She rises and puts the back of her hand to her mouth for a moment, nausea sweeping about her insides.

“Will do, love.” He says with a polite bow. “Any cause to call the doctor?”

“No. There’s nothing he can do for this.” She shakes her head. “I’ll just have to suffer until it’s out of my system. And what is more suffering for a woman like me?” She shrugs and looks his way. She was tired, bless her, in so many meanings of the word.

“It is nothing for a strong woman.” He states supportively.

She lets out an amused laugh, a single forced exhale of “Ha.” A scoff really. “When I see one I will be sure to give her my problems.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach again as it growl and squeals.

“Mirrors in the bathroom.” He motions and she shoots him a side-eyed glance. “If you need me further I’ll be only a phone call away.”

“I won’t require you.” She answers curtly, not looking his way. It was the first time she’d not pouted when he mentioned leaving.

“I will be home for tea. Perhaps you will feel up to having it with me?” He questions as he moves toward the door.

“Perhaps.” She calls out in response. She pauses in the bathroom doorway as he does the same to the hall. “Perhaps not.” She says with a shrug and an almost sarcastic face.

He only gives her a nod in response, shutting the door behind him. He should’ve felt a burn of her being cold. But he didn’t. He knew she’d be mad with him for some time. But he was ready to weather it. She could be as angry as she liked, didn’t matter to him. Not when their well being, their business, and her recovery were at stake. He’d take all the anger from her in the world to get his Genny back.

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 5 years

Text

His Only Dance Partner

Uh, hey. So, I rewatched the last five episodes of the Pacific and was greatly inspired by the last episode to write this because I will never be able to stomach the fact that Snaf just left Eugene on the train. So I’m sorry, I know no one asked for this. But I needed it to happen.

I promise I’m gonna start working on requests again soon, I know I’m the worst.

Pairing: Sledgefu (Ya that’s right you heARD ME)

Word Count: 2100ish

Warnings: Mentions of war...I think that’s it?

Tag List: @the-almond-dinger @elliotmercury @r-ahh-mi

Let me know if you wanna be put on my permanent tag list and I’ll try to remember lol.

“Your lonely nights are numbered, Eugene.”

Eugene stifles an eye roll. This conversation, the topic being his virginity and the women in Mobile with his brother, was one he had been dreading. Sure, what he told his brother had been true, the only women in their part of the Pacific were nurses and they were very much off limits. But Eugene didn’t want them to be on limits. Why would he when he had everything he could have ever dreamed, right there with him.

Keyword being ‘had’, as everything he could have ever dreamed left him on the train without so much as a simple goodbye or a note. But no, Edward, Eugene was not a virgin anymore, had not been for some time. He can’t help but doubt his brother's words, his lonely nights are most certainly not numbered. They feel endless to Eugene. With every sleepless night that passes, filled with false images of sea green eyes draining of life, of dark blood staining everything it touches and of too loud explosives, Eugene’s hope of no longer being alone, in that way, dwindles a little more.

He can’t listen to his brother talk about the ball. All he can focus on is the heart-wrenching pain he felt when he woke up alone, blinking the sleep from his eyes expecting to find curly hair and a sly smile but instead found an ugly, empty train seat staring back at him. The pain that never quite faded, even after coming to grips with the simple truth. Eugene fell in love. And clearly, it wasn’t a two-sided love as he had thought.

“You wear your uniform to that ball, all the ripe fruit will be falling at your feet.”

No. Eugene thinks, he doesn’t want ripe fruit. And he certainly, doesn’t want to put on that godforsaken uniform.

He doesn’t put on the uniform. But he goes to the ball, for what reason, he’s not sure. Sid pulled him along, saying something or another about spiking the punch and dancing with Mary’s friend Sue. But as the night wore on and as Eugene stayed to sidelines of the ball, Sid began to back off, opting to dance with his fiance instead.

There were too many people. All pressed too close together, Eugene could practically feel the heat radiating off of everyone at once. The music was too loud. The melody swang nicely, made your body sway without you even realizing it. But it reminded Eugene all too much of one that was hummed in his ear during those long nights huddled in a fox hole. He watched couples dance, staring sweetly into each other's eyes and laughing at words spoken only for them. And he was overcome with at first jealousy. It wasn’t fair, that these couples could dance, press their lips against one anothers and be close. And then anger, because when Eugene had someone, they were limited. Limited to stolen kisses in the dark when everyone was sleeping, to subtle touches when no one was paying attention, to barley believed lies and stolen glances. The pairs at the ball could be with one another without fear of consequence. Yet if Eugene had been caught, or even suspected of his relationship, if it could be called that, Eugene wasn’t so sure anymore, they had to fear the worst.

It was all too much. Making a bee-line for the door, Eugene fished the pipe out of his pocket, barely refraining from lighting it before he got outside. His legs carried him away from the people, just far enough where he couldn’t be accused of leaving, just simply getting some air. Inhaling deeply, Eugene let the smoke from his pipe fill his lungs, exhaling the smoke quickly when the taste of it sparked another memory that made his heart clench. In an attempt to take his mind off of him, Eugene revelled in being alone. It had felt like forever since he was truly alone. His mother always hovering over his shoulder, his father's concerned gaze watching him from afar.

It’s cut short though, interrupted by Sid handing him a glass of punch. He can tell Sid wants to talk more about why he’s alone, and Eugene isn’t sure that he’ll be able to keep his big mouth shut if he gets asked one more time. So he lets himself ramble about another concern, a popular one among those who made it home. Why did they make it? When so many other men, married men, good men, young men, didn’t. He lets Sid talk about it, lets him tell him how he got over it, how he’s still getting over it, until Mary snags him away again.

“C’mon, I can wrangle you up a partner.” Sid tries one last time.

Eugene forces a smile, “No thanks, Sid.” He says. I only want one dance partner.

When he’s alone again, he lets his composure slip. He feels the tears pricking behind his eyes as his mind slips back to the train. Why didn’t he say goodbye? Did Eugene not mean as much to him as he did to Eugene? He knows there’s no sense dwelling on it, nothing good will come of it. But the punch, and whatever it’s been spiked with, makes his hurt all the more present.

Eugene tilts his head up, looking at the stars above. He wonders if he is looking up at the same stars too. So far away yet under the same sky. His eyes find a straight line of stars, and just his luck, they angle upwards too. His mouth quirks up a bit at the memory, remembering how his chest filled with adoration when the words fell from his mouth, a signature smirk at his lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can actually hear the son of a bitches voice.

“The hell you doin?”

Eugene’s eyes fly open.

“Standin’ out here when ya could be inside, dancin’ with some broad?”

His head jerks towards the voice and he can’t believe his eyes. There he stands, barely illuminated by the garden lights around him, cropped pants and a dark t-shirt. His hair still an unruly mess of curls and those sea green eyes still glimmer in the dark. Eugene huffs out a breath, his body feels frozen. He wants, so desperately to do so many things. He wants to punch the sly, if slightly nervous, smile off the other mans face but he also wants to take him into his arms and never let the bastard leave again. He does neither, instead opting for speaking, willing his voice to not come out shaky.

“Don’t wanna dance with some broad, Merriell.” He pauses and adds quietly, “You know that.”

Merriell looks down, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he takes a nervous step forward. When he looks back up, the sly smile and mischief are gone, replaced with uncertainty and vulnerability.

“Then who ya wanna dance with?”

Eugene's throat is tight, his fingers shaking as he taps the leftover tobacco out of his pipe and shoving it back in his pocket. He looks backwards at the venue hall, observing the people standing outside and on the balcony. There’s too many of theme, too many prying eyes that wouldn’t understand what they’d see if they looked over. He shakes his head, looking back at the other man before walking towards him. He ignores the flinch that is pulled out of Merriell when Eugene grabs onto his wrist, tugging him away from the lights and sounds and prying eyes.

“We can’t do this here.” He hisses.

He doesn’t know where he’s taking him. He just knows they have to go somewhere no one else is. They have to be alone. He wants to scream at Merriell, just wants to know why but he also whats the other man to know how much it hurt to wake up without him. He knows they’re going to draw attention, no matter what ends up happening. So he drags Merriell away from civilization, into his stretch of field that he’s come to love since being home. Since he’s discovered it, no one else had come to the spot. He figured this was good enough.

“Jesus Sledge, if I had known you were gonna take me hiking I would’ve stayed in shape.” Merriell says, hunching over to catch his breath when Eugene finally stops.

“You fucking asshole.” Eugene grits out and immediately regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt spread across Merriell’s face.

“‘Gene, I-” Merriell starts but stops just as quickly, “I don’t know what ta say,” he says in a near whisper, avoiding the other man’s hard stare.

“I just-” Eugene paused to swallow the lump his throat, willing himself not to cry, “I just want to know why.” When Merriell doesn’t say anything he continues, “Why didn’t you wake me up? Do I not deserve a goodbye? Or at least a note? Or, I don’t know Snaf, a fucking explanation of some kind?” He can’t stop his voice from raising.

“Eugene-” Merriell tries but Eugene just keeps talking.

“After all we’d been through. I mean, come on Snaf, the number of times we pulled each other out of the line of fire just in time. And I don’t get a fucking goodbye?” He knows a tear or two have fallen on his cheeks but he doesn’t care, “I guess I just thought I meant more to you than that.”

“You do!” Merriell finally shouts before Eugene can start up again, “I didn’t say goodbye ‘cause I couldn’t, okay? You mean so damn much to me Eugene, I couldn’t give you a goodbye ‘cause it would have meant never seeing ya again.” He stops, swallows, and his next words are uttered so softly, Eugene barely hears them, “It hurt too much to say goodbye, so I jus’ didn’t say anythin’ at all.”

They stare at each other, fists clenched at their sides and breathing heavily. It’s gotta be about midnight now, Eugene figures. The moon is high above them, casting plenty of light into the open field. Eugene almost wishes there was no light at all, that way he wouldn’t be able to see the guilt on the other mans face.

The silence is finally broken by a broken sigh from Merriell, “I’m sorry, ‘Gene. Ya don’t deserve this, I should go-”

Eugene panics. He can’t let him go away again. And he certainly can’t watch this time. He does the only thing he can think of. He reaches out, wraps his fingers around a bony wrist, pulls the other man to his chest and kisses him,

The momentum of Eugene’s pull makes their teeth clash, they come together too hard but somehow, it’s still perfect. Eugene revels in the feeling of having Merriell’s lips against his own again for the first time in months. For the first time in months, he feels like everything could be okay again.

He feels a hand fist in his suit jacket, no doubt wrinkling the fabric. A sound of relief escapes Merriell’s throat and Eugene finds his hands cupping at his face as they kiss desperately. When they finally pull away from each other, their breathing heavily, foreheads pressed against one another. Eugene plays with the curls at the back of Merriell’s head, a small smile gracing his lips. His eyes open and he finds himself lost at sea, he thinks to himself he wouldn’t mind drowning there.

“So ‘Gene, who ya wanna dance with?” Merriell asks softly, a slight teasing edge to his voice and lips curled in a soft smile.

“I only wanna dance with you, Merriell.”

The admission frees what feels like a thousand pounds off of Eugene's chest. He finds the other man grinning so wide he almost looks crazy before he pulls Eugene down into another kiss.

“Y’know,” Merriell gets out in between kisses, “I don’t think Mobile is gonna be too forgiving of our situation.”

“So we leave,” Eugene says, as if it’s the simplest thing, to just pack up and leave everything he’s ever known outside of the war, “we’ll go wherever we’re most welcome.”

Merriell bites his lip thoughtfully, searching Eugene's eyes for any sign of reluctance. When he finds none, he nods frantically, “I’ll go anywhere with you, boo.”

When the Sledge household wakes up the next day, all they find in Eugene’s wake is a note and an empty dresser. Eugene spent the whole war hiding who he was, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna continue living that way. Especially since everything he ever could have dreamed is back by his side.

#eugene sledge #sledgefu #Merriell Shelton #Snafu Shelton #merriell snafu shelton #sledgehammer #sledgefu fanfiction #im sorry

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winterisakiller · 5 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Seventeen

Chapter: 17/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

Well folks, we are drawing closer to the end of this particular story. Just one more chapter after this and an epilogue. I can’t believe it’s almost done.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rosemary felt an all too familiar uneasiness wash over her; truthfully, she’d been on edge since she’d opened her door to Adam the half hour previous. The knot in her stomach that had been growing steadily all day bloomed fully into life as she took in his tall form in navy suit jacket, white button up shirt, slim blue tie, and dark jeans. It was obvious he’d taken care in dressing for the evening and that in and of itself set off quiet alarm bells in her mind. She shushed them as thoroughly as she could, telling herself was being ridiculous.

He wouldn’t tell her where they were going and would only smile sweetly when she’d ask. Damn the man. So she’d kept her mouth shut as he led her into the underground station and then through the gates onto the platform. It was just dinner, just talking, nothing more; her nerves were unnecessary and utterly ridiculous. She kept telling herself this as she watched the platform fill with evening commuters and as the boarded the next arriving train. Rosemary found herself watching the people surrounding her as the chatted amongst themselves or stared with blank faces at the mobiles. Anything to keep herself from focusing on the growing unease inside her. She’d always enjoyed people watching, especially on the tube. It was amazing the way people acted when they were completely oblivious to the world around them or at least pretending to be. She sighed and shook her head.

She kept her watch up as the train rumbled along the track and people crowded on and off the carriage at each stop. Commuters on their way home from work at long last; tourists anxiously eyeing the map above the seats, muttering off stops until they found the one they were looking for. As the train rolled to a stop several minutes later, she watched as Adam stood and held his hand out to her. “This is us,” he announced, lacing his fingers in hers and pulling her towards the carriage door. Her unease only grew as they made their way from the platform, up the crowded escalator, and finally through the ticket barrier. She knew this route, knew it like the back of her hand. Please no.

“Adam…” she started, wariness coloring her tone as their destination came fully into view.

Rosemary found herself staring at the restaurant entrance in stunned horror. God, not again, she cursed internally. Of all the damned places. She couldn’t fathom why hadn’t she realized that he’d meant this place? Of course he would have chosen this particular restaurant; it had been theirs after all, tangled as it was in memory and emotion. How could he have meant anywhere else? She let out a deep breath and turned back to face him.

“Ready?” He asked with a warm smile. His eyes were bright with excitement, hand outstretched towards hers.

She nodded dumbly, took his hand and followed him inside. Rosemary noted, with a flood of blessed relief, that Darcy was not manning the hostess station this particular evening. She murmured a small, quick prayer of thanks for that small mercy. The last thing she needed was Darcy and her persistent questions, especially after the last time. This was bound to be difficult enough without her cheery interference.

The woman who stood at the station smiled brightly at the pair as they approached. Her blonde hair was pulled into a low ponytail at her neck and she wore a black cardigan over a maroon and white knee length dress. She greeted them warmly, introducing herself as Sophie and asking if she could help them.

Adam nodded, straightening his tie with his free hand before stepping up to the podium, “Yes, we should have a reservation for two under Adam Richardson.”

Sophie smiled warmly and began to search through the tablet that sat on the podium in front of her. A frown spread slowly across her face. She flicked back and forth across the screen for a few moments more before looking up at Adam. “I’m so sorry. I’ve looked several times and we don’t seem to have you listed here. When did you make the reservation?”

Adam ran his hand through his hair, his unease nearly palpable. “Yesterday evening.”

The hostess grimaced. “That would explain it.” Rosemary watched as Adam shot her a confused look. Catching his expression, Sophie carried on. “Our server crashed last night and several of the reservations for today disappeared. Give me a moment to see what we can do.” She tapped on the screen before her, scrunching her face as she flipped through the screen once more. “We’ve got about a 45 minute wait at this point…If you don’t mind, I can add you to the list and we’ll grab you when we’ve got an opening.”

He turned to face Rosemary, “Is that alright?”

She hesitated. This would be the perfect time to suggest something else, anywhere else, but the naked hope in his eyes made her pause. He’d been looking forward to this, here with her, and she couldn’t bright herself to take that from him. Not now. “Yes,” she answered after another moment's hesitation. She could feel the warmth radiating from him at her response; the way his eyes lit and his smile grew. But his joy did little to quam her own unease. “That’s fine.” She left Adam to settle things with the hostess and headed back outside, basking in the warmth of the warm June evening. She needed air, and suddenly needed it desperately.

This had not been how she’d hoped the evening would go at all. She was glad to be able to have the time to sit and talk, really talk, with Adam again. But dinner…And here…She didn’t know if her uneasiness stemmed from the former or the later, and she was scared to look too closely at it to find out. A groaned left her lips and she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. She could feel the threat of a headache blooming and prayed in vain that it would hold off for just a little while longer.

It was several minutes later before Adam joined her on the pavement directly outside the restaurant and they stood for several moments without speaking. She knew the tension was rolling off her in waves, he would have to be blind to not notice it. But she couldn’t seem to make herself relax, no matter how she tried. Finally, she took a deep breath and asked the question that had been rolling around her mind since they’d arrived. She had thought she knew the answer, but needed to be sure. Needed to hear it from him. “Why here?” She started, her eyes locking with his. “What made you pick here?”

He cleared his throat, his face falling ever so slightly. “We loved this place.” His voice was quiet, so soft that she had to strain to hear him. He cleared his throat and continued uneasily, “I just...I thought it would be nice.”

Rosemary could see his uncertainty and felt horrible for saying anything at all. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt in her asking, she just wanted to know. Needed to know. There had been a heaviness tied to the evening, she’d sensed it from the moment he’d suggested dinner a handful of days ago. Lunch had been one thing, she knew what to expect from that. But dinner...Stop it, she hissed at herself. Just stop it.

“It is,” She told him, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I just...I’m sorry. There’s been a lot going on and my obviously not handling it as well as I hoped to be.” Maybe this had been a mistake.

“I know.” He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently, offering her a small, tentative smile. “I know.”

They stood in silence for a long while, the sounds of the city echoing around them. “So,” Rosemary started, turning back to face him. “How’s the conference going?” She hated reverting to small talk with someone she had once known so well but didn’t know what else to do or to say. So much had happened in the year they’d spent apart and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that were very likely different people than they had once been. And she hated it, hating no longer feeling as though she truly knew the man standing beside her. Hated the loss of that bond.

Adam chuckled ruefully and she could see in his eyes that he felt the distance between them as well. A distance neither seemed to be sure how to cross. “About as well as you’d expect.” He answered with a shrug. “We had our last day today.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Oh?”

He nodded but didn’t elaborate further.

“So I guess you’ll be headed back soon…To the States, I mean.” Rosemary wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. The conflicting emotions that thought brought forth made her head swim.

Adam’s face was a mix of uncertainty and concern. “Not quite yet…There’s a bit of business at the main London office that I’ve been recruited to help out on.” He paused and smiled at her. “So you’re not shot of me just yet.”

She laughed in earnest at that, fighting to ignore the thrill of elation and dread that coursed through her. “Duly noted.”

The silence descended once again. Rosemary allowed herself to study Adam’s profile as he stood beside her. He truly was a handsome man, she’d always thought so. But he had always been more than that. He was a kind soul but wickedly funny. She could see the faint lines that creased his brow, undoubtedly from the stress of his work, but mixed amongst them were the familiar laugh lines that she’d known so well. He was so different and yet still so very much the same. Rosemary watched him rock slowly back and forth on his heels. She could sense there was more he wanted to say, more that he wanted to discuss with her, but something was holding him back. She felt ashamed at the small flicker of gratitude that flooded through her at whatever was causing him to hold his tongue.

Rosemary looked up as Adam cleared his throat. He turned to face her with a small smile. “I’m going to go in and check on our progress. Back in a tick.” She nodded and watched him head off towards the main entrance.

A sigh feel off her lips. Maybe coming had been a mistake. With all that had been happening how could dragging Adam into her life make anything at all better? But she couldn’t leave, didn’t want to. Not really. Not now. She owed him, and honestly herself, this much. Rosemary rubbed her temples with her hands. Good god, her head was a mess.

She jumped as the loud buzz and ring of her phone sounded from inside her purse. She cursed as she dug through the bag, searching in frenzied earnest for the damned thing. I really must get around to organizing this bleeding thing, she thought as she dug through the various, and somehow always necessary, items that littered the large purse.

“Ah ha!” She breathed, pulling the phone out at last. Her eyes darted to the screen and she felt her heart stutter as she processed the name flashing on the screen. Her finger swiped quickly across the screen and she brought the phone to her ear. “Tom?” She breathed into the receiver, heart still beating rapidly in her chest.

She’d missed him, god how she had missed him. She hadn’t realized just how badly until that moment. The thought pulled her up short. She may have missed him but she could have...No…She should have called to tell him so. She’d meant to; had so badly wanted to…But she hadn’t and that was entirely on her.

Stop it, she told herself. You can’t change any of it. So just stop. He is here. Now. Just stop.

Rosemary shook herself back into the present, a small but warm smile spreading across her face as she heard him rambling. It was an adorable yet infuriating habit of his. One that she had so desperately missed. “…I interrupting anything, I didn’t even think about the time difference. God, what time is it there?” The anxiety was palpable in his voice and once again she felt terrible for not calling him earlier. For not reaching out sooner. Like she had promised him she would. She’d wanted to, god knows she’d wanted to, but everything in her life had seemed to be conspiring against her. Every time she’d pulled her phone out determined to follow it through, something or someone had come demanding her attention. Round and round we go.

She found herself laughing despite herself, a touch of her own anxiety clear in the sound of it. She hoped he wouldn’t catch it. Quietly, she pushed open the door and walked into the quiet, small entrance hallway of the restaurant. London was a noisy city and now that she had Tom on the line, she didn’t want to miss a moment of his presence. “It’s fine,” she reassured him. “I was just getting ready for dinner.” She glanced around the cramped hallway and ran a hand through her hair, it was the truth…Technically. “It’s going on eight here,” she added in afterthought, realizing she hadn’t answered before. She wondered briefly just where he was and what time it was there. Tom sounded utterly exhausted.

“Oh good,” he answered, a breathless chuckle of his own echoing over the line. “I was terrified it was like two in the morning or some other horrendously late hour and you’d be dead asleep and cursing me out for waking you.” A spurt of laughter fell from her lips as he rambled on; despite the exhaustion she could hear in his voice there was a distinct note of nervousness. “How have you been?”

A sudden uncertainty crept through her at his innocent question and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer it. In truth she’d been a mess, but how could she possibly tell him that? “I’ve…I’ve been alright…Busy.” That at least had been the truth. But there was so much more that she needed to say and no idea how to even start to say it. “But I’m glad you called. I’ve been meaning to but with one thing and another…” she let her voice trail off, guilt choking her. She should have called him, should have reached out. Instead she’d left him hanging and now…She rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

“I know a thing or two about busy, Rosie,” Tom laughed softly as he spoke and she felt her gut twist. “It’s completely fine. I’m just…” his voice trailed off for a moment and Rosemary held her breath. “It’s really nice to hear your voice.”

Her heart leapt in her chest. “It’s nice to hear yours too,” she answered honestly, her own voice gone soft with tender emotion. “How has the tour been going?” she asked, hoping to keep the tension from creeping back between them. She hated it, hated feeling so uneasy around him. God, she should have called sooner. Stop it. “Where are you now, anyway?”

Rosemary caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Adam waving to grab her attention. Shit.

“Rose,” he called, a smile painting his face. “They’ve managed to find us a table. Come on before the give it away.”

She felt herself freeze and without thinking clapped her hand over the end of her phone and answered, “Go in, Adam. I’ll be right there.” Adam’s smile waivered a bit but he nodded and headed back inside.

“Tom?” she breathed, “I’m so, so sorry but I have to dash. Thank you for calling, I’ve missed you...” She cursed herself. Too much. She didn’t want to leave this as it was. There was so much they needed to talk about. So much she needed to say. But there wasn’t time now. But when he got back… “You’re home sometime next week, right?”

There was silence on his end of the line and she wondered if maybe she had pushed too far. But then he was back. “Yes. Late Friday afternoon if all goes according to plan.” She thought there was something off with his tone, but wasn’t sure. He hadn’t answered what time it was, it could be late and he could be tired. That would explain it, she hoped.

“Good,” she breathed. “Good. Listen, after you get back can we meet up...I...There’s something I want to talk with you about.” The question tripped off her tongue and she felt like a prize fool, stuttering and stammering at him. But the words were out now and she couldn’t fix them.

“Oh…” His tone was definitely off. But a moment later he sounded fair bit more upbeat than she’d expected. “Alright. I’ll call you after I’ve settled and we can maybe meet up for a coffee.” She couldn’t shake her own unease at his change in demeanor. It was too abrupt, too forced. Fuck, she’d made a right mess of this and she hadn’t even started.

Rosemary choked down her own anxiety and answered, “That sounds like a plan...I’ll see you soon.” She pulled the phone from her ear and hit end before she allowed herself to think further on it. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she shoved her phone back into her bag and hurried inside to find Adam.

He was waiting for her by the hostess station and extended an arm as she approached. Rosemary allowed herself to accept it as they were led to a small table near the back of the restaurant. They were left with a cheery smile and menus to peruse. Rosemary sat, draping the strap of her bag across the back of her chair, and plucked up a menu to bury her face behind. She watched over its top as Adam settled into his own seat, menu in hand. How many times had they done this? How many evenings and afternoons and late mornings had she passed with him, here, content? Hundreds most likely. And now here they were again. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, especially now when she wasn’t sure where they stood. What any of this actually meant.

Adam placed the menu softly on the table and smiled gently at her. “I’m pretty certain nothing here has changed over much.”

Rosemary nodded, “No, not really. It was quite a shock how similar things were last time I was here.”

A curious look crossed Adam’s features, “When were you here last?”

It was an innocuous question but something in his eyes made Rosemary hesitate before answering. “A month or so back...I went with a friend,” she admitted finally.

“Oh.”

Rosemary cleared her throat awkwardly, “It was a surprise. I didn’t know we were coming until we turned up at the door.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to justify any of this to him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “But no,” she continued on, “it really hasn’t changed all that much.”

Adam nodded silently and Rosemary very much regretted opening her mouth at all. Was she going to stick her foot firmly in her mouth like this the entire night? A petite red-head, Chloe her name tag proclaimed, chose that moment to approach their table. She quickly introduced herself and made a prompt spiel of the days’ specials before asking if they were in fact ready to order. Adam exchanged a glance with Rosemary who nodded.

Once their orders were placed and Chloe had left with their menus, Adam turned his attention back to Rosemary. She felt flushed under his gaze, uneasy and tense, and she could clearly see the storm of uncertainty in his eyes. She wanted desperately to ask him what he wanted, what was wrong, but was scared half to death of actually knowing. She hated that feeling, hated that she felt so uncomfortable and uncertain with a man she had once thought could be her forever.

But he said nothing and neither did she.

Chloe returned after several minutes with their drinks which served to break some of the tension between them. “Rose,” Adam started once Chloe had walked away. Rosemary raised her eyes to his in silent question. “I had a solid plan in mind for tonight. I knew just what I was going to say and what I hoped you would say in return.” He laughed quietly to himself and took a quick sip of his drink before clearing his throat and continuing. “But now that we’re here...That you’re here...I don’t know how to start.”

Rosemary blinked at him before taking a sip of her own drink. “Whatever it is, Adam, just say it. It can’t be that bad, can it?” Her voice held far more confidence that she felt. But whatever he had to say she knew things would not rest well between them until he said it.

Adam rubbed the side of his neck with his hand. “You make it sound so easy.” He paused, dropping his hand back into his lap. “I’ve been thinking a lot since we parted. About so many things. And not a day goes by that I don’t regret not asking you to come with me. We were happy, we worked, but I was scared….So ridiculously scared that if I asked you wouldn’t choose me, choose us. So I didn’t say anything and then you didn’t say anything either and then it was too late.” His eyes bore into hers, pleading with her to understand what he meant, why he needed to say this now. “I love you, Rose. I always have. I know that at one point you loved me too. And I know it’s probably too little and far too late, but I wanted to know if you thought of me too. If you regretted it as well. And if you did, do you think we could try again. See if there is anything left for us to build on.”

“Oh Adam.” His name tumbled from her lips in a choked whisper. She could feel herself flash between hot and cold as dread, elation, confusion, and despair flooded through her in large, arcing circles. She didn’t know what to say, what to think. “Adam,” she started again, her voice a touch stronger, “Oh Adam...How could we try this when you aren’t going to be here…” It had been the first coherent thing to pop into her head. His life was in America now, her’s was here. There would still be an ocean between both physically and she feared emotionally too. Why now?

Adam rubbed the back of his neck and took a quick sip of water. Seeming to gather himself, he leaned forward and asked, “But what if I’m not.”

She stared at him in stunned confusion as his words slowly sank in. “Wh-what?”

He cleared his throat. “The office here…They have an opening…” he trailed off hopefully.

Rosemary felt her heart clench in her chest. This had been everything she had wanted, everything she had hoped to hear in those first six months after he had gone. But not now; now it was far, far too late. She wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. Wanted to cry as she looked at the man sitting before her, a good man who loved her, but he wasn’t the right man. She opened her mouth to respond, to tell him not to take the job, not if it was just for her. Not to do any of this for just her. But Adam raised his hand to silence her.

“No,” he started, “Please don’t answer me now. I know I’ve thrown a lot at you. Too much probably. But please don’t answer now. Just think about it. Take a couple of days and just think. Please.”

Rosemary shut her mouth and nodded. She knew her answer now and knew in her heart that a day or two would make no difference. But she knew he had his pride and she couldn’t bring herself to crush it, not then. Not like this. Not in this place with both their nerves so frayed. No, she would give him tonight.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

Text

Mob AU! “Playthings” Part 5

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

Thor swiped through his phone idly. They were finally making their way back to New York after the week away. Grandmaster was beside him in the back seat of the town car, also on his phone, speaking quietly to a business associate. Which business, legal or otherwise, he really didn’t care. He was being ignored for the time being; a thrilling and devastating respite from the man’s near constant attention over the week.

He thumbed through his gallery once more, stopping on a picture of Loki he had taken a few months ago. Unlike the numerous ‘fun’ photos he had of his brother, where the younger man smiled or posed or sent the camera a funny face, this picture was quiet. He probably didn’t know it had been taken. He was sitting in their private room in one of numerous hotels they called home. He was at the window, the evening light pouring in behind him as he read. No Grandmaster or his entourage peeping just barely within frame. No opulent sign of wealth. One could hardly tell it was in hotel at all. In this picture, his brother was freer than he had been in the last ten years. It took all Thor’s strength not to kiss the treasured picture.

Gast was concluding his phone call. Thor quickly switched albums on his phone to screenshots of items he ‘wanted’. He was supposed to be one of a pair of dumb sugar babies most of the time, after all. ‘His bimbo,’ as Grandmaster liked to cheekily remind him. ‘My spoiled little Princesses.’

“At least ‘the shipment’ is coming in on time. 'The batch’ is going to be delayed another three days because, I dunno!” Gast threw his head back dramatically as he put away his phone. “I give clear instructions and I am just surrounded by…” he drifted off. He did this often, when inconveniences happen. He would forget about it seemingly, never bring it up again. Until inconvenience led to incompetence.

He leaned over and put his head on Thor’s shoulder, glancing at his phone. “Whatcha looking at?” It was said flirtatiously, a hand once again creeping to his thigh.

Thor showed him the VR headset and controller he had saved. He made his eyes as wide and clueless as possible. “It’s only 199.”

“For everything? All the bits and bobs?”

He shrugged.

“Hmm, I could get you that, if you wanted. Or, or I could take you boys to the Caribbean again.”

“I think we’d prefer Disneyworld.” It was veiled sarcasm, but anything would be better than being in New York.

[read more cut]

“Well, maybe if my boys are good…,” he shrugged. They would probably get both, and the trip to the Caribbean so Gast could do his offshore banking. He doted on them when business was good, mostly to spend some of over accumulating wealth. Don’t want the IRS sniffing around.

When they finally made it back to the Gladiator Hotel, the doorman greeted Gast with his customary jolly manner. As always, the Grandmaster told him a joke and slipped him a twenty as he held his sides with laughter. The doorman spared not a glance at Thor. Even when Thor left on morning runs or to perform some errand, he barely seemed to register he existed. He was just 'one of the boys’.

The penthouse as always was already full of people. The usual group; the top Lieutenants and a few of their mistresses, a few people hoping to get some sort of favor, and of course the penthouse crew. Bodyguards and delivery men that practically lived on site. Most did. Who wouldn’t want to live in a penthouse? Or even under one?

“The gang’s all here!” Gast called. Everyone greeted him warmly and with loud cheers. A few of penthouse crew were on one of the numerous game consoles 'the boys’ owned. They waved and called like the rest but continued to play. Thor felt a strange possessive need to rip the controller out of their hands. That was his and Loki’s! It was a gift! A gift for…

For being good.

He settled in on one of the chairs at the drink bar that was along the opposite wall and tried to ignore the sound of gameplay.

“It’s good to be home!” Gast smiled as one of the women in the room pressed a drink into his hand. Then he frowned. “Something’s not right.”

Everyone went tense. They didn’t move a single muscle. They barely moved their eyes.

“Where’s Lo Lo?”

Thor’s mind snapped to attention. He began to look around the room. By now, Loki would have come out from their private room. No matter how beaten, no matter how scared, he would have come. He would play his part, leaping into the Grandmaster’s arms, asking if he had been brought a treat. Sometimes he would shyly walk out of the room, needing to be tugged into the embrace. Other times, when Loki was feeling bold, he would walk out wearing one of the numerous 'outfits’ that they had. Costumes that either left little to the imagination or clothing from Thor and the Grandmaster’s closet.

But Loki was not here. He quickly glanced at Gast. Gast had a bemused look of puzzlement on his face. Clearly, Loki not being here was not part of the 'punishment’. He tried not to leap up and pace or show any visible sign of distress, but his capacity to hide such things was nonexistent now. Immediately, Gast caught him beginning to panic. Quickly, as though he was comforting Thor (but it was comforting, wasn’t it?) he pulled the young man into his embrace.

“My Lo Lo better come soon. My Sparkle is loskng his shine,” he tutted, his voice an exaggerated tender parody.

Thor snorted pathetically, curling into his Grandmaster for comfort. He always knew what to say.

“Well? He was your responsibility?” This was directed at Mario, one of the lieutenants and head of the penthouse crew. “What happened?”

“Well we were going to give him the works, like you wanted,” Mario said nervously. “Then we got a call about 'The Batch’ and I went to deal with that for you best I could. So we wouldn’t be delayed a month on that.”

“And?”

“So I left the kid with Tommy,” he motioned to the couch to one of the men playing games. Tommy was fairly new to the penthouse crew and he was, to put it mildly, an idiot. He was a jumped-up relative of someone, and like anyone in a position because of nepotism, he had a certain attitude of invulnerability. He was still playing the game, ignoring all the attention in the room shifting to him.

Gast moved quietly to stand behind Tommy. He watched the screen and the flashing lights of the game. His face was calm. He even smiled slightly. “Tommy, um Tommy.”

Tommy didn’t pause the game but threw a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“You took care of Loki for Mario?”

“The brat? Yeah, we roughed him up. Like yah said. Gave him the dock side special!” He laughed and elbowed one of his companions. The companion was catching on to what was happening and did not laugh back.

Thor began to advance on the man, seeing red. Loki wasn’t some nosy harbor agent or business owner who was late with his protection money. He didn’t deserve…

The Grandmaster put out a hand to stop him. “So after that. After you gave him this dock side special.”

“We went out for a bit I think. Dunno. Smoked a few bowls.” There was a shrug as he continued to play.

“We went to the hospital,” one of the other men said.

“Oh yeah! Fucking brat was moaning and not moving. Did a roll stop at Mercy.”

The room began to tilt. Thor stumbled back. It had been years since either of them had been beaten so badly to warrent the hospital. Gast had become more cautious and they had become more obedient. Usually though, they were back within in a few days. Hospital officials could be bought off to release patients early and their many a doctor who would be willing to treat them here in the penthouse. There would be only two reasons why Loki wasn’t here then.

“So, he’s dead?” It was asked casually, like he was asking if someone had a nice weekend. Likw Loki’s existence was nothing more than just a simple matter, like a chore off the list.

“I dunno!” Tommy continued to play the game.

“You didn’t go to the hospital to check?”

“Fuck, that ain’t my job!”

“Actually, that is.” The television was turned off. The man was suddenly keenly aware of the danger he was in. Tommy was dragged quickly from his seat by Mario and several of the other penthouse crew members. They quickly gagged the man and frog marched him to the maid’s elevator, the way to the basement and scene of operations.

Gast rubbed his face and pulled at his lips. “Well I-I can’t say that doesn’t change a few things.”

Mario had returned. “Grandmaster I’m sorry. He’s Lenny’s boy-”

“I know.”

“His Mother is going to want to at least bury him. She’s a proper broad. But I can talk to her if you want.”

“No it’s fine. Keep him alive and intact until I hear back from the hospital. Call Lenny. He has other kids?”

“He’s Catholic, so yeah.”

“Well, one less son is nothing to fret over. Someone fetch me Topaz.” He finally turned back to Thor. Thor knew better than to leave before being dismissed. “Poor Lo Lo, isn’t that right my love?”

“I-I want to go to the hospital to find him.”

“No, no! I want you here. Here at home. Right where I know you’re safe.”

He wanted to shake his head and ask again. He wanted to run at the man to either tear him limb from limb or to plead on his knees. He felt fear that Loki was gone, that he was truly alone now. That it was just him, the Grandmaster, and a memory he had no one to share it with. But there was a thrill of hope.

Loki could be free…one way or another….

“May I go to my room?” To be alone. To mourn, to pray, to rage, to laugh, to scream….

“For a few hours. Then we’re going to go talk to Tommy.”

Thor nodded and left. If there was silver lining to all this, it would be one of the few times he got to kill someone who had hurt his younger brother.

#Grandthorki #grandmaster #thor #thorki #thundermaster #sfw #fic #cw dubcon #cw noncon implied #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #submission #playthings #playthings part5

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writingthingsisdifficult · 6 years

Text

The man in my dreams

This is a story of dreams, of heartbreak, and soulmates. Some fluff, some angst, a little bit of blood, a little bit language...

I worked hard on this, so please let me know what you think. I also have a tag list; so let me know if you want on it. Or if you want off it, I guess. There’s a few people I can’t tag anymore. Let me know if you’ve changed your url or something, yeah?

Edit: I don’t know what the weird symbols are, but they disappear when you click the read more. Also: yes there is a read more - but for some reason it doesn’t show up on mobile. Sorry.

Word count: 7107

He grips my foot tighter as he bandages the wound. It is just a small nick, but he seems uneasy, and I don’t want to upset him further, so I don’t move. “Tell me,” he says, and there’s an emotion I can’t interpret laced in his voice.

“W-what?”

“Your story. Tell me.” He waves his free hand, indicating for me to get on with it. “From the beginning.”

“Uh…” I clear my throat, and try to ignore the burn from the screaming. “M-my first memory is…” This is harder than I thought it would be. I’ve always had dreams and aspirations, but it’s not to die by the hands of some nutter who gets off on people’s sob stories. Of course I’m not my usual top self.

Growling, he gathers a fistful of my hair and yanks, pulling my head backwards. The pain brings tears to my eyes. “Now!”

I let out a long breath, and a plan of sorts forms in my head. Maybe I can distract him long enough to work my hands free of the rope. And then? Let’s worry about that later. “Y-yeah… hhhhso. First mem-memory. Uhhh… I remember waking up, screaming from a nightmare where I was covered in flames. If I close my eyes I can still feel the heat on my face… I screamed so hard my throat ripped and I could taste blood on my tongue, and… and Dad spent hours trying to calm me down. Heh… it wasn’t until he started humming along to the soft rock radio station I finally closed my eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. I guess I must have been around three or something.”

He nods, and his apparent calm encourages me to continue. I brace myself and bring forth the story I intend to tell him.

“I had a very happy childhood. I did. My parents loved me, and I never wanted for anything. Yet I always felt something was missing. Like I wasn’t whole. I tried not to think about it too much, because like everyone else, I just wanted to be normal and accepted.

But sometimes this longing crept out; when I was sleeping and had no control over myself. When I turned five the dreams became more frequent, and I started to recognise a pattern.” There’s always a pattern, if you know where to look, and it didn’t take me long to see it.

“’Momma! Momma!’ My cries were followed by frantic footsteps on the soft carpet. I think there was a sharp crack, then a low curse being thrown into the room, but I’m not entirely sure. I was too scared to care that Mom had trodden on one of my favourite Barbies.

‘What is it, pumpkin? Another nightmare?’ Mom’s voice was like a soothing blanket over my frayed nerves as she picked me up and held me close. Yes, it was another nightmare, but it wasn’t an ordinary nightmare. My six-year-old brain recognised that much.

Wiping my nose on Mom’s shirt, I sniffed and blinked away the tears that stuck to my eyelashes. ‘Uh-huh. The same… A dark, um, monster was coming in through the window, and he was so scared, and… and then someone was shooting…’ The flash of flames from the gun was what woke me up. To this day, I’m still terrified of… of fire.”

I sigh, and try not to think about my current predicament. Right now a little fire almost seem like a good thing. “Anyway. So Mom stroked my hair and smiled softly. ‘Oh,’ she said, as if she was holding back. ‘You were dreaming about, about S… Sander? again?’ She always struggled to remember the dreams I’d told her about before, and for some reason that annoyed me exceedingly.

But I didn’t know how to tell her that, of course. I was only six, so I banged my fist weakly against her chest. ‘Sam, Momma. His name is Sam.’

Mom gave me a sad smile, and kissed the top of my head. ‘Sorry, honey. It was just a dream. There’s no such thing as monsters –“ I’m interrupted by a low chuckle, and I frown at my captor, who has seated himself at the bottom of my chair, with his feet crossed, and his head in his hands as if I’m reading him a fairytale.

“Nothing,” he smirks, and nods for me to continue again.

“Uh-huh. Well, Mom told me to go back to sleep. She said that nothing could hurt me in my bed. Then she tucked my blanket tight, but there was something about her face that made me suspicious. Like she wasn’t telling me the truth. But then again, Mom always said I wasn’t a very trusting child, so I archived the feeling in the back of my mind where all the other weird ideas I had would eventually end up; like ghosts were real and that werewolves really looked like ordinary people. Oh, the look on Mom and Dad’s faces when I told them. Of course they knew better. There’s no such thing as ghosts – the only monsters out there are…” You, I want to say, but I’m not sure how he’ll react to that, so I sniff, and cough.

“May I please have a glass of water?” I ask, my mouth so dry it hurts to smack my tongue.

“No,” he simply replies, and straightens his back.

Right. My story. Pri one, obviously. “Some dreams are vague like feelings or memories of colours swirling over a blank canvas, or emotions etched into my mind for forever, but without context or a story.

Others, uh, others I remember as if… as if they happened just minutes ago, like those piercing, yellow eyes. So cold, so… evil. I never really saw who they belonged to, but they frightened me so much Mom and Dad thought about sending me to a professional. I wonder what would’ve happened if they did. Those eyes still haunt me sometimes. Sometimes I even feel I can see them when I’m awake… But in the middle of them all stands Sam, like a pulsing beacon of light and safety. Even though his face is blank in my dreams, I always knew it was him, you know?”

He fidgets and shifts on the floor, looking uneasy, but he quickly hides his emotions behind a stern façade. “Tell me about the dreams about Sam.”

“Hum, okay. In those dreams he was there, sometimes almost as we were the same person, or sometimes we would meet and do stuff together. It never, uh, never struck me as weird when I was little, that I never saw his face. It felt natural, and those times I saw others, it was like watching them through a filter, or maybe through his eyes even.

Dean appeared often. His brother. Sometimes like a knight or a caped hero,” I smile from the memory of the tough looking kid in a Batman cowl and the cape flowing behind him as he ran through the streets. “He… uh, would swoop in to save us when we’d gotten lost. Flowers sprouted and blossomed where he walked, and wherever he went darkness cowered. I always liked Dean. He made Sam happy.

Sometimes older people appeared too. At least when I was younger. A man named Dad felt strong and safe, but sometimes he felt distant and sad. Those dreams always made me cry with the heartache Sam tried to hide away.

There was another man too. A gruff, but kind looking old man. Sam called him Uncle Bobby.” There comes a low growl from the floor, but I ignore it. “His hugs scratched my chin, but they were bigger and better than I’d ever known before. Sometimes Uncle Bobby was Uncle Dad. Those were not happy dreams. Well, the dreams were. Usually filled with fun stuff like soccer or baseball and ice cream, but they were almost always immediately followed by a pang of inexplicable guilt and embarrassment before I was rudely ejected from the dream.

Those nights I used to gather all my stuffed toys in my bed with me and place them meticulously around me so they’d know I loved them all equally. That wasn’t entirely true, though. My stuffed gorilla, Hannibal, was my favourite, but I would never admit it out loud so my toys could hear it. But Hannibal always slept in my arms. He knew all my secrets. Like when Dad left with another man when I was seven, and uh…” I let out an uncertain laugh. I hadn’t meant to tell him that. But it’s like I can’t stop myself from it.

“Anyway. When I was nine, I remember the dream so vividly… I was in this, this meadow, I think. So unfamiliar, I’d never been there before, but at the same time I knew exactly where I was, and that there was something important there. Everything was so distracting. The colours were so vibrant I was pretty sure I could touch them if I tried; the air buzzed with excitement, and all around me birds chirped and danced over the tree tops.

Next to me flowed a small brook, and the bubbling reminded me of laughing babies. I followed it. Nothing bad could happen if I just followed the brook, right? Just as I skipped over a rock to cross the water, a shadow flitted across the corner of my eyes, but when I turned, all I could see was a bright green fern stretching to lick the sun.

The water ran upstream, it seemed, but I didn’t think much of it. It was as it should. Eventually I got to a waterfall that flowed upwards, but I was too preoccupied with the table laid out with every candy I could possibly imagine – and quite a bit more, I believe. Sam was there too, and another man I couldn’t really see. They were laughing. I’d never seen him that happy before.

When I approached, Sam got up and hugged me. I was so surprised I totally lost the ability to speak. He introduced me to his friend, I-I’ve forgotten his name, but he was so proud of Sam, and he told me that I was good for looking out for him. Then we gorged ourselves on candy and marshmallows and junk food, and watched cartoons and played Twister.

When I told Mom about the dream, she ruffled my hair and smiled, but under her breath she muttered: ‘That poor boy. He must be feverish –‘ But to me she said: ‘It was only a dream, honey.’

You know… I nodded, pretending I hadn’t heard her, but that’s when I understood: she believed me, even though she didn’t tell me the whole truth. I decided to ask the wisest person I knew the next day: my best friend at school, Lou. He was a year older than me, and he knew everything there was to know about everything worth knowing.” I exhale through my nose and shake my head. The picture of Lou in the schoolyard is almost absurd. And it was so long ago. How young we were.

“Lou folded his hands in his lap and looked at me with the air of a benevolent ruler who’s just about to educate his favourite subject on a very serious matter.

‘You have a soulmate,’ he said matter-of-factly. Several of the onlookers gasped. Some sniggered.

‘Nuh-huh!’ Tilly from science protested. ‘My Mom says there’s no such thing.’ We could practically hear her roll her eyes.

‘Then your Mom is wrong,’ Lou countered, and I huffed in agreement. He’d clearly won the point, even though I didn’t really know what he was talking about. ‘Just because she hasn’t got one, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!’

‘You know those are just stories, right?’ Maggie chimed in. She was in Lou’s year, and pretty much ruled the school. She cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, no, I’m telling you it’s real.” I was desperate for Lou to be right; I never liked Maggie, and besides nothing would ever convince me that my dreams were just dreams.

“Well, my mom says that it’s just a fairy-tale Nana used to tell to make us go to bed without arguing.”

Lou got to his feet and crossed his arms too. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maggie shrank back a bit, because he was like a head taller than her, and probably weighed twice as much, but it only took a second or two for her to bounce back, with Tilly in tow.

I don’t remember what Tilly said, but I do remember throwing a few punches. It’s a miracle we didn’t all get suspended. Got detention, though. And it felt so unfair. Because Tilly deserved everything she got. She was a despicable… Anyway. I went home and asked Mom. Mostly because I was sure the teacher was going to tell her what the fight was about anyway, so I figured I’d beat her to it.

The answer I got wasn’t what I expected. I think I thought she was going to deny it and tell me my mind was running away with me again, and that Lou shouldn’t have lied like that. But she sat me down and ran a hand through her hair. ‘It’s a controversial topic,’ she began, ‘and many believe it’s untrue, or that it’s a threat to free will. It’s a rare condition. That’s why we don’t talk about it. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to know someone out there is made for you?’

‘Like you and Dad?’ I asked, rubbing the bruise on my forehead.

She looked at me with tears in her eyes. ‘Honey, I… your father and I kept it quiet because… well, you see, your father and I weren’t – I never had the dreams, though he did. We worked hard to make it… work, and we never thought that… because we, uh, sorta thought it would… uh, that it would…’ She obviously struggled to speak about it. In hindsight I realise that it hurt her greatly, but back then I was just a stubborn brat with insensitive questions.

Trying her best to swallow the lump in her throat so that I didn’t see, she coughed, and moved the cushion half an inch to the right, then back again. ‘It seems silly now,’ she continued after a while. ‘Thinking his soulmate would appear just from us talking about it… As if we could keep him away just by keeping quiet,’ she added with a huff, more to herself than me. “Anyway… those dreams… yes. Sam’s your soulmate, but I can’t tell you when – if – you’ll meet him. Nature is, I wouldn’t exactly call it evil, maybe more tricky. And there hasn’t been much research on the subject, since it’s pretty rare to begin with, and… well, since it’s about love and all. But I think I read somewhere that it’s most likely hereditary. There was a research paper published, I think about twenty years ago, that claimed that only males carry the gene, but I’m not sure. I don’t know.’ Her voice was soft and airy, more vulnerable than I expected a Mother to be.

Mom always did that when she was sad: spoke to me like I was a grown-up, and I always nodded and practised my “understanding” face, but truth be told I didn’t understand half of what she said.

What I did understand, though, was that Sam, the boy I’d been dreaming about my whole life was real, and that one day I might meet him. That thought made me giddy and warm inside, and I couldn’t wait for us to play together. I was only nine, mind you. Uh… May I please have a glass of water?” My voice crack, and he slowly gets to his feet. I use the few seconds alone to wiggle the rope a little further.

When he gets back he watches me with… almost fearful eyes, and he gently helps me to drink. The water is cold and refreshing, and I gulp it down greedily. He wipes my chin, and then sits back down. “Now continue.”

“Right.” I want to ask him why, but I don’t think it’ll do me any good. “The years passed, and I no longer wanted to play with Sam. Somewhere deep in my brain the seed that had been planted when I was born began to grow and bloom.

Mom never mentioned anything about soulmates again, and I quickly learned not to bring it up at school unless I wanted to be ridiculed and laughed at. But the dreams continued.

When I was thirteen, and just starting to figure out my feelings and getting confused with more of them, I had this dream that really stuck with me for a long time. I think it was in September, and I remember I struggled with school a bit at that time. Anyway. In this dream, Sam and me, we were at a museum.

I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there, nor did I know exactly where we were, but I also did know that we were in San Francisco, and this was the gigantic Prehistory Museum that obviously had to be there, since that was where we were. Which is funny, because I’ve never been to San Francisco. Incidentally this was when I learned how to pronounce pterodactyl, heh…”

He gives me a dark look, and I hurry to continue my story.

“This museum, it was, I don’t know, round-ish… the huge cylindrical core was made up of glass, the hundreds of windows gave us glimpses of the exhibitions inside, and we strolled down along the walkway that wound itself around it like a giant vine. It felt like walking through a rainforest – everything was so green and lush.

Each floor was home to a new exhibition, and even though quite a few of them looked interesting – I never really got over my dinosaur phase – we didn’t feel like leaving our jungle path. The rooms were too crowded, or too loud, or both, and we just wanted to be together.

Once we stopped by a souvenir cart, and Sam bought me a miniature model of an ichthyosaur skeleton, and I bought him a lollipop in all the colours of the rainbow, because that was what he wanted more than anything.

We didn’t say much, for what felt like forever. Occasionally Sam would stop and point at something new or unusual, and sometimes we’d get distracted by a sound or the sight of traffic outside, but it only took seconds and then we were back together again on the neverending carpeted spiral.

At one point, Sam’s hand brushed mine, and we both jumped. He coughed and hummed, I blushed like I’d never touched another human being before, and then we both looked away. It was the best feeling in the world: my heart hammered, I was on the verge of throwing up, yet I was floating just a couple of inches above the ground, because I knew what was coming.

A wave of courage hit me, and I reached for Sam’s hand just as he reached for mine. The moment we touched the world went darker, as if the sun suddenly went down, but then thousands of tiny lights blinked all around us. One of the lights landed on my nose, and I squinted to look at the firefly. When I looked up again, Sam was closer than he was before. I’m pretty sure there were fireworks too. Wind lifted my hair, and I closed my eyes and leaned in – only to be interrupted by a loud screech from the velociraptor exhibit. We turned our backs to it, but the sound continued, so I opened my eyes and cursed loudly. I was back in my bed, the alarm clock shrieked at me, and I had two hours of history and maths waiting for me.

I think that dream lingers because most of the others were so dark and scary. I can’t tell whose dream is who’s anymore, but I remember dreaming a lot about those yellow eyes. Especially in combination with black smoke and a smell that stung my nose. And sometimes I would comfort Sam, or he would comfort me, and I would wake up with tears in my eyes. I guess it was because our minds were getting used to each other. I dunno.

There were a lot of monsters. But sometimes, sometimes… I recognise the dream as fully mine.” I close my eyes and dip further into the memory. “I don’t know why I was crying. Maybe it was just that time of the month, maybe something horrible had happened that I couldn’t remember, or maybe I was just exhausted from Mom’s constant talk about college. The applications were written, but I didn’t know where I wanted to go – or even what I wanted to do. At any rate the tears wouldn’t stop falling, and soon I sat in a big puddle of water that rose higher with every plop. Kinda like Alice in Wonderland. Heh… that was one of my favourite books when I was little.” I open my eyes and sigh. I feel like crying now. But I guess it won’t do me any good.

With another sigh, I continue; “Suddenly an arm snaked around my shoulder, and Sam’s head leaned against mine. ‘I’m here.’ No questions, no fussing. He knew what I needed: company and silence. I didn’t even have to say thank you, but I tried anyway.

My voice was too raw, no sound would come, but Sam nodded and pulled me closer. ‘Any time,’ he said, and that was it.

We sat for a while, watching the world scuttle past. Piles of baked goods appeared and disappeared again. A small monkey walked on ropes between two dumpsters. In the shadows I’m pretty sure I saw Ross Geller hunt for rats, but I didn’t say anything because it looked like he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Breathing out, I noticed my cheeks were dry: all that was left of my tears was a dull aching in my temples.

The clouds shifted, and we sat inside a rainbow, floating high above the grassy fields I recognised from that school trip in fourth grade when André and Lionel scared half the class by finding a huge slug and running after all the girls with the poor creature dangling from their hands.

‘It’s a nice memory,’ Sam said after a while.

‘Yes. It is,’ I replied, not knowing what else to say. I turned towards him to ask about his school trips, but he was gone. His warmth and scent lingered, but the place he’d been sitting in was empty. I missed him.

That was the last time I saw him for a long while. I guess I was busy with school, and I don’t remember dreaming much at all. Got a boyfriend, though it didn’t last long, because he found out about Sam. Read it in my diary, I guess. Wasn’t too upset to see him leave. He wasn’t too interesting anyway.

But when I was… around twenty, I had another dream. As I drifted off to sleep I felt the fabric of reality stretch around me, and I let it, knowing it would soon settle again. I wasn’t afraid.” Not like now, I almost add, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to show that… that creep… that I’m scared of him.

“The darkness faded and revealed a rolling meadow filled with all the flowers I’d ever heard of. And probably a few I hadn’t. I immediately recognised the place: it was my safe space. My Ghibli meadow. I’d watched “Spirited Away” with a reverence bordering a religious experience not long before. Nothing could hurt me here.

The sound of the summer breeze harmonised with the birds as the familiar sounds and smells brought me home. Finally I could breathe.

Soon it became clear to me that I wasn’t alone as I expected, and I looked around with my heart pounding in my chest. The colours paled and the shadows lengthened – and then I spotted him: standing a little way away, looking curious and almost shy for intruding.

My heart slowed as I realised who it was, and I smiled and beckoned him over. ‘Hey, Sam,’ I whispered as he came closer, knowing he could hear me. Around us the colours grew stronger again, and warmer, and the sun rose higher in the sky.

Now, I didn’t know much about Sam, I still don’t, but I knew he had a troubled soul. It wasn’t hard to see. Hell, I didn’t even know his face, but I knew he was tall, and I knew that he was beautiful, both inside and out. Even here I had to bend my neck back to look up at him.

‘Hey,’ he said, giving me chills from the big grin in his voice.

‘Haven’t seen you around in a while,’ I replied, hoping he’d detect the longing in my voice.

He looked away into the distance. ‘I know. Things have been… busy. So this is… this is you, huh?’ I thought I could detect guilt in his voice, but I was never good with people, so I didn’t say anything. Instead I focused on the curiosity in his mind, and how warm it made me feel. The flowers around us rustled proudly.

‘This is me.’ I let out my arms and spun around on the spot, almost stumbling over an overgrown bush of berries.

Sam smiled. I could feel it in the sunshine. ‘This is…’ He paused. ‘Nice. It’s nice.’

It was so good to see him again, to be with him. We walked for a while, talking about nothing and everything. He picked a flower and placed it behind my ear, and I blushed furiously.

I desperately wanted to kiss him, but he held back on me. I didn’t understand why, because I saw the same connection we’d always had, but I figured he had his reasons, so…

Well, after we passed the small cabin where I used to go to sort my thoughts, another woman joined us. Um, not joined as such. She wasn’t really there, more of a fleeting ghost or projection of a thought. I’d never seen her before, but her name was clear in Sam’s mind. Jessica. He called her Jess. And she called to him, and… Sam just… he faded. I…” The memory still stings in my chest. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. I swallow and blink to stop my tears. He dabs my eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, and stretches. He yawns, and then his stomach growls.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear the rest of it, before…” he trails off, leaving me confused. What has he planned?

“I hated that woman for ages. She appeared in almost every dream we shared. She stole my Sam. But… I knew she made him happy, so somewhere, deep inside – I would never have admitted it then – I was grateful. Dean had… Dean had all but disappeared from Sam’s dreams, and when he did pop up it was usually to argue. At least Jess kept him company. And his dreams were… nice. No monsters, no darkness. But my dreams changed too. They lost their colours. They felt colder too. Once, Sam asked me about it. He said he’d noticed, but I turned away and didn’t answer him.

For a while I dreaded going to sleep. I didn’t want to see her again. Didn’t want to carry that feeling of, of betrayal. I wasn’t… angry… at Sam. I was disappointed, sure, but I didn’t own him. No, I was pissed at the universe for punching me in the gut like that.

Then suddenly, the dark dreams returned. The fire too. It was stronger, burned hotter. I could see the outline of a woman in the flames. Her face was contorted in pain, and her blood trickled down the walls.” I shudder. It had dawned on me one morning, after watching her maimed, burning body, that the woman was Jessica, and that she probably was dead in a fire. My heart had bled for Sam that day. Still does.

“I can barely talk about this. Please. I gotta… I gotta…” I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair. “It was bad, okay? I don’t know what happened to Sam. He was so happy, and then almost nothing but demons and blood and monsters under the bed. And the torture. Oh god, the torture. I could almost feel how Sam’s limbs were ripped apart and put together again. They plucked out his eyeballs over and over. Cut him, bled him dry… I feel like throwing up just by thinking about it. The images are seared into my brain, and I wish to god they weren’t!

In the beginning, I tried to reach out to him, and occasionally he’d welcome my light, as he put it. He said I made the suffering bearable, but as time went on, he stopped responding to me. And then… nothing. Nothing at all, for a whole year!” My voice breaks and my heart with it.

“It was nothing like before when I didn’t dream about him. Then I’d sorta sense him; know he was there, doing his thing, you know? But now? It was as if he didn’t exist. That was the longest year of my life. What if something happened to him? What if he died?”

He laughs as if the thought amuses him, and I suppress the urge to spit in his face. Yeah, there’s no such thing as monsters, but he’s one alright! Twisted and vile. And there’s no one here to stop him. And if I get my hands free? What can I hope to do?

“My heart longed for Sam, but after so long without anything, I started thinking I’d made it all up. Yeah. I’m an idiot. I should’ve -- But I… I started to come to terms with the thought that maybe he was… The whole romance thing, the idea of soulmates – what kind of nonsense… I mean, not everybody has one, right? But I started questioning it: like what made a soulmate a soulmate and not just two people that were so very in love?

Sure, you have the dream thing, but they say we only dream about people we already know or have seen, so it might as well be a dream about that plumber you saw that one time you went with your mom to work. But then there were the thing with the faces… yeah… I didn’t really believe my own doubts, but I worked so hard on pretending I did, that I forgot. So when the dreams returned, I almost spooked myself awake.

Yeah, the dreams came back. Just as suddenly as they’d stopped. And it was worse than any horror film. They hurt, physically and mentally. Like someone pressed a hot nail into my brain. There was light flashing in front of my eyes, and sometimes it was pitch black, and we could hear something scuttling past just outside our reach.

I remember squeezing Sam’s hand once, and he yelped as if it hurt him. It was all dark around us, and there was not a sound except for the soft pitter-patter of rain on the lawn – no, that wasn’t it. That was the sound of footsteps. Naked feet slapping silently against concrete floors. I grabbed Sam’s other hand. He was totally calm, but he squeezed my hand in a quiet gesture of safety. Whatever this creature was, he wasn’t afraid of it. But Something was coming, and Something was going to bring Sam to his knees. I just knew it.

And when it came… oh jeez… ‘You’re a freak, Sammy. A monster. You should’ve died!’ Just the voice was enough to make Sam crumple to the ground. Dean appeared in a haze, his face distorted, but I could see the disappointment still. But it wasn’t him. I knew Dean. He loved his brother – deeply. He would never. NEVER. Say something to hurt him. But Sam never saw this false image. He cowered on the floor, his face buried in his knees and his arms around his head. He was… was rocking back and forth, and I know he was crying. I could feel it. And every word from Dean cut him open.

There wasn’t much I could do. He wouldn’t acknowledge me anymore, but I stroked his hair and told him he was perfect, and he flinched away from me. I told him to not listen to the creature that had taken his brother’s face, but I think he closed his mind to me.

I felt him crumble. I stumbled over his frail form in the darkness, terrified and frozen.

I kinda didn’t recognise him. Sure, he had the same silhouette, and the same homely smell surrounded us, but it was as if he didn’t see me. No: he ignored me on purpose, flinching away when I got too close.

‘Sam,’ I said, trying to keep desperation from my voice. ‘It’s me.’

The only response I got was a low hum, and him leaning away slowly.

‘Hey,’ I tried, softer this time. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.’ Why he would be scared of me was a mystery, but the claustrophobic weight of panic descended on us. I could hardly breathe.

‘You’re not real,’ he whispered hoarsely, and I wondered if he’d been screaming. Maybe he was hurt – or ill. He did rub his hand as if it was painful.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked, reaching for his hand, but he snatched it out of my reach.

‘Not real.’

‘I am real,’ I countered. ‘But this is a dream, so…’ I cut myself off. I wasn’t making it any better. Suddenly Sam started to fade from me. I caught a glimpse of what looked like charred wings before I was engulfed in freezing flames. I woke up panting hard and still feeling the cold spreading over my skin. My heart was dancing in my chest, and high-pitched ringing filled my ears.

It’s hard to separate one dream from another. They continued for a long time. Nothing but fear and confusion, and sometimes cold fury. He was hunkered down in a corner, trying to hide from something. Despair and anger radiated from the shivering pile, but it was so dark I couldn’t see him properly. Still, I knew it was him. The familiar feeling of a tether drew me to him. ‘Sam?’ I asked, as quietly and gently as I could, just as I always did.

His head snapped up, confused by the new presence, but he recognised me too. I think. ‘Who are you?’

Once again he broke my heart. ‘It’s me; Y/N.’ We’d been through this a thousand times, and I didn’t understand how I hadn’t just given up yet. But the bond between us was so strong I don’t think I could have, even if I tried.

‘You’re not real,’ he replied. ‘You’re created to make me… to punish me for…’ He was suddenly on his feet, and I could see he was falling apart. His clothes were torn, and the rags were swaying in a wind that wasn’t there. He had burn marks on his arms, and his face was gaunt and grey.

‘Get away from me!’ There was so much pain in his voice I almost started crying. His words punched me in the stomach, and for a second it was so, so hard to breathe. I felt ill. Frost rose from his mouth, and darkness swirled around us again. Howling winds brought a cold that froze our bones, and I just couldn’t seem to warm up despite the fact that there was a fire burning in front of us.

‘Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,’ a mocking voice sneered. ‘She’s just as real as I am.’

Sam fell to his knees again and started muttering. ‘Go away, go away, go away…’

So yeah… that was a fun time. But I think he got better. He doesn’t avoid me any more. The monsters are still there, but Sam’s stronger now. Still sad, still haunted, but he’s almost back to his normal self. Back to his kind, caring self. I… I have this dog I dream about sometimes, and when they meet, Dog really lights up, and Sam can spend hours playing with him. But I’m…” I look away. The past is hard, yeah, but it’s the past. Knowing what comes next is… I’m getting desperate. “I’ve tried to ask him where he is. If we can meet, but I never remember his answer when I wake up. And.. I-I think I might never meet him in reality, you know? So when I saw that bar in his dream, and I actually remembered and knew where it was, I…” I give him a flat look. “Yeah. I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”

He’s not gonna let me go. I can see it in his eyes. And now that my story is finished, well… I might not take him out, but at least I can leave a few scratches on his face: I’ve almost managed to work my hands free. Just a few more minutes…

It’s difficult to decipher the look on his face. Fear? Nah, that can’t be it. Pity, maybe. “Aw,” he says after a short pause. “That’s a nice story. I’ll make sure to tell him if I ever run into Sammy-boy. Hell, it almost made me feel for you. But,” he continues with a creepy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all, “I’m still gonna eat’cha!”

What??? His statement takes a moment to reach my brain, I mean, really reach my brain, and in that short time a second, pointy, set of teeth has descended over his normal ones, except that is impossible and I definitely need to get my head checked.

I blink, and he’s moved to my throat – what the hell? Does this dude think he’s a vampire or something? Ow! That really hurts! I think I’m bleeding, and… Suddenly he flinches, and he looks up at me with hungry eyes and a wicked grin. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says and there’s blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. I giggle. He’s a messy eater – I think I’m gonna throw up, or faint, or… yeah, fainting sounds good right now, and I can sorta feel the floor crash into my head as I topple off the chair, but I really don’t care. I just wanna rest. This has been a crazy day!

When I come to, I’m lying on my back and there’s someone standing over me, pressing something to my neck. I don’t think it’s the same guy.

“Hey, hey… there you go. Wake up. Can you do that for me? Open your eyes?”

His voice is pleasant and feels kinda familiar, but I can’t place it, and I’m too tired to ask. But I do as he tells me, because I want to make him happy; blink a couple of times and shake my head – ow, that hurts!

“Careful. You’ve lost a bit of blood, and you hit your head pretty hard. But you were lucky. That sonofabitch didn’t have time to make a proper incision, so he only drank a little…”

What the hell is he talking about? Oh. Yeah. Crazyboy. The one I thought were going to show me a good time, but instead tried to… eat me. Excellent. I groan and scoot up so the pain in my back goes away.

The skin is raw where the rope cut into me, and I rub it gently, whining from the pain. Nimble hands put a bandage over the cut on my neck, and I try to stretch a bit.

“Sit still, please. I gotta see your hands too.” His fingers brush gently over the bruises, and he wraps a strip of fabric around my wrist. To protect me from infection, I guess, but I get a sudden flash of being tied down, and throw my hands up. I don’t know, maybe I hope to punch him in the nose or something.

He backs away and holds up his own hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Looking up at my saviour through shielding hands, I see kindness in his eyes. He is oddly familiar, and though I think I’m supposed to be terrified, and I am, I feel unusually calm and collected.

Then I spot the other guy over his shoulder and the world grounds to a halt. Looking from one to another, back and forth, my mind spins so fast I get dizzy. Could this be real? I know I’m not dreaming... but… Standing in the doorway with a goddamn machete swung nonchalantly over his shoulder, is Dean. Dean from my dreams. Brother of…

“Sam?” I whisper, scared that he’ll disappear once I’ve said his name out loud.

He looks at me, the confusion evident in his face – that face I’ve never seen before this moment, but that I’ve loved with all of my heart. His brows knit together, and his lips part slightly – my god, those lips… and he kneels beside me. The cogs in his brain turn furiously. I can see it. Then he lights up. “Y/N?”

“What, Y/N? Like Y/N?” Dean drops the machete and hurries over.

Unable to keep a smile from my face, I nod and roll onto my knees. Before I can stack my feet under me, Sam takes my hand and pulls me up.

“Y/N…” he repeats almost inaudibly. “I half thought you didn’t exist at all.”

Sam smiles at me and my heart soar. It’s like coming home after a long and gruelling hike in the woods. I can relax. And breathe.

I lean closer and Sam follows suit. The moment our foreheads touch, I swear angels sing – even if it sounds tacky!

“This is so weird,” Sam whispers, sending shivers through my whole body. “We just met, but I’ve known you since… always…”

Just as I’m about to answer with something really cheesy, Dean appears in the corner of my eye. “Oooh! Are you gonna kiss now?”

Sam’s face contorts into an expression only ever seen on fed-up little brothers, but I grin widely and reply: “Bitch, we might.”

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