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samatedeansbroccoli · 2 years

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📓

Had to think about this but I think I will tell you about that one kid!Fic I will never write on COD because I don’t like the characters enough to finish it.

Tw: Child abuse, burning, gun violence.

Another combo not ideal to see together

No Russian/Cliffhanger Missions

Coming back from the Tian Shan Mountain Range in Kazakhstan, Ghost and Soap are greeted by Nikolai, who has a correspondent named Yuri with him.

Yuri’s brought this tiny 5 year old boy with him which he says is one of the only survivors of the Zakhaev Int’l Airport (ZIA) attack. Apparently there’s something special about the child for Yuri explains that Makarov had the boy come with him to ZIA.

The boy wouldn’t talk to anyone before Soap and Ghost got here, and he’s asleep now. So they scan him for fingerprints to identify him.

The scan comes up as Vladimir Makarov.

Yeah that can’t be right. The boy is a dirty blonde and clearly not a terrorist. He can’t be Makarov, and certainly not the Vladimir A. R. Makarov that comes up when they try again.

They wake the boy and he reacts poorly to all of them. All but Ghost. With some crying and whimpering in between, the boy reveals his name as Gary.

There’s an argument over whether they should tell Shepherd about Gary’s fingerprints. It doesn’t happen when Gary begins to cry as he sees a picture of Shepherd.

Ghost becomes the primary caretaker with Worm’s direction and Soap’s terrible advice as they go into the night. As Ghost puts Gary to bed, Gary asks him about an animated museum in Los Angela's where the figures come alive and says he wants to go someday. He also talks about chameleons, saying they’re his favorite animal.

Takedown/The Hornet’s Nest

Here’s a bright idea: don’t let Ghost and Soap determine what’s best for a child. Especially when they can’t find a babysitter.

Really, it was Ghost’s idea as he realized Gary’s fingerprints being the exact same as Makarov’s could be a massive advantage to them. Worm absolutely hates the idea. Soap is persuaded.

The flight over, Gary cuddles with Ghost who awkwardly pets the child's head. He ends up giving Gary a small radio and showing him how to use it. Gary finds it funny to talk into it, especially when he can hear his echo in other’s radios.

The group arrive in Rio de Janeiro where they chase Rojas, then proceed to torture him as Gary follows Worm elsewhere.

Gary gets separated at one point too, though is able to tearfully call for Ghost over the radio.

Ghost finds Gary who happily rides on Ghost’s back as they run the rest of the way out of the favela and to the extraction point.

Ghost yells at Worm when the regroup for losing Gary. In Worm’s defense, Gary never trusted him, and no one in their right mind would bring a 5 year old on a mission like this.

Gary doesn’t let go of Ghost for the rest of the day.

Of Their Own Accord/Second Sun

A cranky Gary needs a nap as he gets upset Ghost won’t bring him. Ghost coaxes him to sleep then hands him off to Shepherd who’s offered to babysit the boy until they return from their aquatic mission to recover information on the one prisoner Makarov fears most: Prisoner 627.

When Roach wakes, Shepherd is guiding the Rangers as they deal with the assault on the U.S. as well as work with TF141 on their mission to a gulag.

He finally decides to ask what’s going on. Shepherd shoves him away.

Shepherd has to leave the room to grab something to guide TF141 and Roach chats with Foley, who makes a joke about Shepherd and being-your-kid-to-work day. Gary doesn’t get it.

Shepherd shoos Roach away and Roach goes to play with some toys quietly.

Makarov contacts Shepherd and alerts Shepherd of a runaway child named Gary and a picture of Gary is sent. He tells Shepherd the boy has a very rare ability that could destroy everything they’ve worked towards.

He advises Shepherd shoot and burn the child if he sees him.

Shepherd confirms the order then hangs up and looks at Gary, who starts to run.

Shepherd grabs his pistol and Gary panics and runs at the control panel, activating the radio to call Ghost.

“Oh hey, Soap was about to call you,” Ghost says, unaware of Shepherd holding a hand over a struggling Roach’s mouth as Roach tries to cry for help. A gun barrel sits at his head as Shepherd waits for the perfect moment to shoot him.

Ghost wants Gary back for an operation but mainly because he misses the little guy. Gary is spared and Shepherd loads him into a plane.

Shepherd threatens to kill Ghost and Gary if he says anything or even alludes to his correspondence with Makarov. Gary promises to be quiet.

When they arrive, Gary cries and runs to his arms and Ghost is more than happy to hug him.

Ghost introduces Gary to Price, who had stopped at a toy store on the way over to buy a giant stuffed chameleon. It becomes Gary’s favorite toy.

Contingency

Although Ghost is basically the parent, Worm is the next door neighbor who’s had 3 kids already, and Soap is the drunk cool uncle, Price has full dad energy. No one is surprised by this. He doesn't let anyone swear if they can help it. He teaches Gary a bunch of hand clap games as Gary sits on Ghost's lap during their flight to Petropavlovsk, and bosses Ghost around as they dress Roach up for their next mission.

Gary accepts Price as a fun person immediately and Ghost is mildly jealous. So is everyone else, for Price is the only person without a mask that Gary trusts.

That opinion changes quickly when Price and Worm take Gary with them while Ghost and Soap go another way. Gary threatens to cry but Ghost promises him he'll be right behind.

Things go pretty smoothly for the most part, though Price and Worm have to keep Gary from getting too cold or too upset.

When they get to the marina, Price and Roach sneak aboard a submarine where Price takes care of any guards. He then tries inserting the override codes but they don’t work, so he uses Roach’s fingerprints as was initially planned and it works.

Later, Ghost yells at Price for doing that, but Price reasons it was to stop Makarov.

They alert Shepherd. Gary makes an attempt to try and reveal Shepherd’s working with Makarov but remembers Shepherd’s threat and instead goes quiet and clings to Ghost all night.

Loose Ends

Information from Shepherd splits the team in two and Ghost brings Gary along, lying to Shepherd that he can't get a babysitter for Gary when he knows he needs Gary’s fingerprints. Worm is assigned with Ghost’s subfaction as well.

Gary doesn’t like any of Ghost’s team members except Worm and Ghost.

Ghost asks Gary why he doesn't like anyone. Gary explains he was Makarov’s prisoner for some days before the massacre. Makarov and his men would always smile and present a friendly face before abusing Gary as they considered burning his hands or cutting his fingers off. Having the same fingerprints was too dangerous. At least, Gary says, with a mask he can't see when Simon is going to lie to him and he doesn't have to make eye contact to be taken seriously.

Ghost knows that feeling too well. They cry together.

The mission goes the same as the campaign. Things happen, but they get the DSM thanks to Roach’s fingerprints. Makarov really should learn by now.

They get on the ground and go up to the DSM where Roach's fingerprints work. Ghost collects the DSM, handing it to Gary, and throws Gary onto his back then absolutely books it down the hill for extraction.

A chopper lands in the field and Gary is excited until he sees Shepherd. Shepherd demands Gary give him the DSM. Absolutely not. Gary will fight tooth and nail to keep the DSM in his hands thank you very much.

Ghost is embarrassed and tries to get Gary to give it up but all Gary will scream is "I don't want to go back to Makarov!”

Shepherd tells him to shut up and shoots Gary. Ghost screams as another shot rings out. and Shepherd shoots Roach to quiet him. Ghost yells and is shot as well.

Endgame

A sobbing and whimpering Gary gives Ghost a reason to fight through the pain and try and stay alive.

Shepherd dunks Gary’s hands in fluid and lights them afire. He walks away as Gary screams. By luck, Ghost manages to save Gary and stop the burns, though they’ve done the damage Shepherd wanted.

Ghost passes out eventually and Gary tries to shake him awake. As Gary tries to perform CPR on Ghost through his armor, he finds Ghost’s radio and calls over it for help, then drops it as it burns his hands further.

He doesn’t have to wait long, for the task force spy planes above had seen Ghost’s team disappear practically without a trace (like ghosts lol) and sent an agent to collect them. Gary doesn’t trust her but doesn’t know who else will save Ghost and reluctantly lets her take care of them.

Despite him needing to be hooked up to machines for fluids later, Gary refuses to leave Ghost’s side.

As Gary is sitting there wiggling his toes and singing to himself. Ghost wakes up. The two embrace the best they can with their injures.

Museum

Ghost is pulled from the hospital for intelligence sometimes but always comes back. After a couple months of this, he announces WWIII is over and the hospital staff cheers.

It ended? Gary didn’t even know it started.

Ghost has a surprise for Gary! A big one! According to Ghost at least. Gary will be the judge of that.

It is a big surprise! Ghost meets up with Foley and another man named Ramirez and the two guide Ghost and Gary on a tour around the animated museum. Gary is absolutely blown away, and also terrified of some other things.

After the museum trip, they exit the building to find the Sanderson family waiting for them. Gary is happy to see his parents again and cries as he hugs them and Ghost explains what his care routine is to ensure he gets the best growing up.

Gary cries again when Ghost leaves, however, and says all his toys will be renamed Simon so he can remember him.

The Sandersons say Ghost can stop by their place any time.

#call of duty #thanks Jenny!#another long one #thebroccoliresponds #modern warfare #Simon ghost Riley #Gary Roach Sanderson

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thewidowsghost · 2 years

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Happy Holidays! - Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) gazes at Kate, her eyebrows knit; Kate leans against a black fence, letting out a breath.

Then, (Y/n) follows Kate’s eyeline and finds a Golden Retriever. “Hi,” Kate greets the dog.

The dog whimpers, one of his eyes closed and his fur matted.

“Heck of a party, huh?” Kate asks.

(Y/n) chuckles. “You’re telling me. No vodka?”

A smile twitches on Kate’s lips and she glances over at (Y/n), her eyes crinkling.

A car goes by, honking its horn, and the dog runs away.

. . .

(Y/n) and Kate head down the hallway, but Kate stops, hearing her mother’s voice.

Peering around the corner of the hallway, both (Y/n) and Kate can see Eleanor and Armand the III arguing.

Eleanor heads back down the hall, and Kate pops into view. “Mom, what was that about? Is that guy threatening you?” Kate asks, (Y/n) crossing her arms over her chest.

“I honestly - I have no idea,” Eleanor replies, raising her hands defensively. Then, her gaze falls on (Y/n). “Why are you two lurking in the hallways?”

“My friend and I were outside getting air,” Kate replies.

“Come back to the party,” Eleanor says, her eyes flicking back to (Y/n), a suspicious look in her eyes.

Eleanor walks away, (Y/n) fiddling with her nanotech suit canister - which Tony had made for her - disguised as a watch on her left wrist.

(Y/n) reads Kate’s expression when the brunette turns around. “You want to follow him?” (Y/n) guesses. Kate blinks, looking surprised before nodding.

The two turn around before heading down the hallway, and into another longer hallway.

Kate looks around, trying to find Armad, and (Y/n) nudges the girl, pointing down the hallway.

The two head after Armand, Kate in front.

(Y/n) lags back slightly, slapping her ‘watch’ and her suit spreads across her body.

(Y/n) studies the suit. She smiles slightly, liking that the suit was so much like her mother’s, even including the Black Widow symbol.

The only thing different was that there was a piece of cloth that covered the bottom half of her face.

“Cool upgrade,” (Y/n) says, moving down the hallway after Kate, Kate moving into the kitchen.

Kate grabs a platter after hearing a woman say, “Gary wants you to take two of these downstairs,” to another man.

(Y/n) silently moves after Kate, the chefs in the kitchen too busy to pay attention to either woman as they head down the hallway.

Kate makes a right turn into a cellar with brick walls and cool, soft lighting.

(Y/n) feels relieved with the dark lightning, making it easier to blend into the shadows.

(Y/n) keeps an eye on Kate as she peers through the many bottles of alcohol at the people taking chairs in the middle of the cellar.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated, and we will begin,” an auctioneer says, and (Y/n) fixes her gaze on the man.

(Y/n) moves over to Kate, pulling down the mask. “Kate,” she hisses, and Kate turns to look at her, her eyes wide.

(Y/n) presses her index finger to her lips to keep Kate quiet.

“That suit is cool,” whispers Kate.

(Y/n) smiles slightly before nodding to Armad and Jack. She points her wrist at the two men, and the suit strengthens their voice just loud enough for (Y/n) and Kate to hear.

“I’ve reached my breaking point with your fiance,” Armand mutters. “Things are about to get very ugly.”

Kate glances at (Y/n), but the young woman’s eyes are fixed intently on the screen on her wrist.

“Why don’t we leave Eleanor alone, you old goat,” Jack says.

“For our first item of the evening,” the auctioneer begins, “we will be traveling back in time. We’ll start the bidding for this magnificent skull at two million.”

“Excuse me,” a young man taps Kate on the shoulder, (Y/n) diving out of view.

“Oh, perfect,” Kate takes the platter the man is holding.

“Oh,” the man says, surprised.

“Great,” Kate smiles.

“I was supposed to be the only one working here,” the young man says, tilting his head slightly.

“Gary?” Kate offers. “Gary sent me to work here. So, maybe if you want to bother Gary . . .” Kate shrugs.

The man walks away and (Y/n) peeks out of her little hiding spot, looking up at Kate.

“That was close,” (Y/n) whispers and Kate gazes down at her, her eyes alight with amusement.

Kate chuckles, moving around the corner of one of the shelves, glaring at her future stepfather.

“Who told you to come down here?” an older man walks over to Kate, startling the woman.

“Gary,” Kate replies simply.

“I’m Gary,” the man replies.

“What’s your name?” the man asks.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on Kate, willing the woman to say something.

“You see, that’s the problem, Gary,” Kate says smoothly, “you don’t even know my name. You know what, I quit.”

(Y/n) taps her wrist, her suit removing itself. “Jeez,” (Y/n) mutters under her breath. “She’s smart and cute. I’m done for.”

Word Count: 862 words

Happy Holidays Taglist:

@imapotatao

@starscouffaine

@crazydefendortrash

@harleyswanda

@neverylee

@gay-vet-student

@sofi898

@simsrecs

@Dxnnx04

@xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x romanoff x reader #kate bishop x fem reader #kate bishop x female reader

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atty-goldstein · 2 years

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Episode 3 Thoughts

It's 5 minutes in and I'm crying. How dare theyyyy. I was watching with Gary puppy next to me

Miss Holloway and Frank actually getting along is actually pretty sweet. And interesting that these two actually play pretty big parts in the Foster sisters' lives

Jaime really went off with the aesthetics like damn

Frank hating Amazon is perfect

Becky!!!

MIAH name drop!

NO. Attorney in a Hurry will forever live on in my heart

Miah this wouldn't have happened if you married Gary

Ted!? No... Not again...

Sheila is definitely just Mother Gothel

Yep. Totally saw her being part of the cult coming

Oooohhh new spell

Um... He's a literal child now tho, you could like, find a way to leave anyway?

Groupie!Lauren is so pretty tho

Holloduke BEST ship

Aaaaaa we actually get to see the Black Book and the illustrations are fucking cool

Gary puppy whimpered when Miss Holloway died. Like, yes baby, mood

Oh no... Haley

Alice and Deb!

WAIT. So this means, when Peter comes back from Abstinence Camp, his brother is fucking dead!? Ouch

So if Kale's a vessel for the Killer attack, does that make it... A Kale-r Track?

Ooh you actually *could* hear little bits of the Killer Track in the bg of Run Away With Me

Linda, Zoey, Gerald, and Sam be like: Killer Track who? Who needs a song and a week when we can start killing now. Be proactive

Miss Holloway devoting the song to Duke especially aaaaaaaaaa

Okay but I have been holding my breath, worried that in the end it would turn out Duke becomes the new vessel for the song, and then he plays it when he and Miss Holloway are on the boat. Thank fuck that didn't happen.

Aaaaaaa she loves him too much to really leave and she comes back to meet him again aaaaaa my heart

#starkid #nightmare time season 2 #nmt s2 #nmt s2 spoilers #nmt daddy #killer track

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keenesbeans · 4 years

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Two Heads are Better than One

Requested by @amofbebbanburg: Hello! I know something to write 😝😝😝 if you haven’t written this already, how about a Spencer Reid x reader where they both are geniusses and both can get extremely involved in discussions and the team is always flabbergasted as they don’t understand a thing about them, except.. That Spencer and her have a crush on eachother and they make Spencer fonally act on it? Maybe some NSFW to it ❤

A/N: Takes place during season 5 and mentions Spencer being shot in the knee. Introduction takes place in season 5, episode 5 “Cradle to Grave” Sorry I went a little off of the request I had an idea and I ran with it, I still hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @amofbebbanburg @thatsonezesty13 @slutforthegubes @hazel-howell @rachelssafespace @lindaze

Requests are Closed!

Category: FLUFF and SMUT! (NSFW)

Couple: Spencer Reid x BAU! reader

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, chocking, Dom!Spencer, degradation

Word Count: 2,889

******

"The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits."

-Albert Einstein

You were sat at the corner of Spencer's desk as he rambled on about a blog he had just found, you wouldn’t have stayed and listened cause the subject was boring to you, but you stayed because you loved to watch the first genius in the BAU ramble. Especially since he was shot you couldn’t spend a moment away from him, afraid that something like that would happen again.

You were happy to see Derek walk in to the office finally someone else that Reid could talk to besides you. But, before you could give Reid to Derek, he was questioning Reid.

“Reid, what did I miss?”

“Oh, man, you're not gonna believe this. Some moron just posted a blog called "what would Carl Sagan do?" Spencer completely oblivious to what Derek was asking him about.

“No, Reid, the case.” Derek asked him again annoyance clear in his voice. “What's the case?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t know about a case, do you know about a case y/n/n” Spencer now directed his attention to you. You shook your head no “Nope I didn’t hear about any new cases coming in.” You told the boys.

“These emails from Hotch.” "take a look at this, " "new case to review."

“Emails from Hotch? I didn't get any emails from Hotch,” Spencer replied back to Derek while he typed on his computer. “did i? Nothing.” Both you and Spencer were clueless about what Derek was taking about.

The whole time he talked you and Spencer shared questioning gazes between the two of you as you played with his crutches, him stealing them away from you before you hurt yourself or broke them.

Derek had walked to Hotch’s office before you could ask him what was going on you and Spencer just went back to talking about the blog, you both assumed that Hotch had asked Derek to consul on a case before it was brought up in front of the entire team.

*****

“Kristie Taylor, runaway, drug addict, Reported missing from Farmington, New Mexico 3 years ago. Yesterday, she turned up off a freeway Outside of Rio Rancho.” JJ had begin debriefing the team about their new case.

“Sexual assault combined with ligature marks on her wrists and ankles.” Spencer stated reading off of the case file.

“She was asphyxiated.” You shuddered as you stated that as you hand was brought up to your neck, you hated whenever victims died from this, thinking that one day it could be you. In the bedroom you were know as the kinky submissive type, completely different from the dominant personality you used at work. And one of the things that could always get you off was a little bit of breath play, choking, you just loved it when a man took complete control of you, when your life was in his hands.

Those hands, god you had to get over this crush on Spencer ever since he was shot you realized your feelings were more of the “I want you to absolutely destroy me”, then the overprotective family type that they other members of the team had for him.

Spencer shook you out of your thoughts as he mouthed to you “are you okay” you simply nodded your head “yes” and went back to listening to JJ talk about the case.

When you had tuned back in Rossi was talking about how “There are a lot of guys out there who like chains.” You giggled to yourself and girls too, you thought to yourself. Spencer was confused as to way the mention of chains made you giggle, but figured out the answer when he saw the way your pupils were dilated, the rising blush on your checks, and the way you bit you lip with desire.

He blushed to himself, trying to get the imagine of you tied up in chains for him and only him out of his head. He cleared his throat and tried to get rid of the growing bulge in his tight pants.

Rossi asked JJ “ Are we sure this is the same unsub?”

“Kristie Taylor's autopsy report also indicates a second connection between these victims.” JJ replied back to him

Spencer informing the team of the connection, “she was pregnant.” Flipping the case file closed as JJ said that she had just given birth, she was killed within minutes of giving birth.

You had a theory, “This unsub isn't your typical sexual sadist. Captivity and assault we've seen before. What we haven't seen is this signature-- The role he forces these women to fulfill before he kills them. Motherhood.” you told the team all of them looking shocked and terrified.

“Journalist William D. Tammeus wrote, "you don't really understand human nature "unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round "will wave at his parents every time around And why his parents will always wave back."

“So why would a sexual sadist make women carry his children?” Emily asked the team with absolute confusion as to the unsubs motive.

“Gary Heidnik kept a harem in a dungeon. His goal was to create a large family As a replacement for his own broken home.” Spencer answered then turned to look at you, you continued his explanation.

“Josef Fritzl kept his daughter in a cell in his own house, And they had several kids together.”

You and Spencer were always like this, you guys were known to finish each others thoughts almost as if you too shared the same brain. It was absolutely sickening how adorable you two were with each other when you would get into your genius debates, rattling factoids about anything to prove which one was smarter. They were always wondering when you two would finally get together.

And to be honest you had finally had enough of the back and forth of the will they won’t they and you had decided (much to Penelope's constant nagging) that after this case you would finally tell Spencer how you felt, and fingers crossed, jump his bones.

***** The case had finally rapped up after what had felt like forever and you were glad to step foot back into the bullpen, determination coursing through your veins as you eyes landed on Spencer.

“Hey Spencie want to get takeout and do a movie night?, I’ll even let you pick out the first movie” You asked him hoping that he said yes, but he usually always did Spencer could never say no to the puppy dog eyes you were know to give him.

“That sounds amazing,” He replied as he laced your arms together walking you towards the elevator “your place or mine?”

“Yours” If this plan was going to end in the way you hoped it did you wanted it to be done at his place. You wanted him to take you on every surface of his apartment. You felt yourself getting wetter at the idea and before you even realized it Spencer was opening the car door for you to get in, you blushed as you thanked him for being such a gentlemen and got in the car.

*****

You had made your way to Spencer’s apartment without exciting yourself to much, in case he didn’t return the same feeling of attraction.

You sat on the couch as Spencer placed your usual order at your favorite Chinese restaurant. “It’ll be here in 20 minutes” he told you as he joined you on the couch and he set his crutches down on the ground you gathered up some courage to place your hand on his knee.

“Does it still hurt Spencer?” You began to bring your hand up and down his leg in a teasing manner making sure not to put too much pressure on it.

“Umm no-o not that much only when I-i try to put too much pressure on it.” Spencer didn’t know what you were trying to do but, he was hoping that you were finally going to tell him how you felt.

“OK that’s good just tell me if this hurts”

“If what hur...” Before he could finish his sentence you straddled yourself on his lap combing some hair that had falling in his face behind his ears. You smiled deviously as you felt his growing bulge resting at your core, you moaned at the sensation.

And in that moment, Spencer had lost all control, the years of him holding in his feelings were finally able to be set free. He grabbed your chin bringing your face inches away from him. You felt his hot breath fan over your face, another moan escaping your mouth.

His pupils were extremely dilated, they were filled with lust and desire. “Is this why you wanted to do a movie night y/n, huhh?” He left one hand on your check as the other wandered down to your throat giving just enough pressure to make you a whimpering mess in his lap.

“Yes, Doctor” That’s all you needed to say to him before he captured your lips in a breathtaking kiss both of you moaning at the sensation of finally being together.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” Spencer manged to get out in between kisses.

Both of you exploring each others bodies like you both had dreamed about.

His hands now harshly gripping your hips and grinding you against him. You ran your fingers through his lengthy curls, tugging at the ends eliciting several moans from him. He begin to work his kisses from your lips down to your neck leaving love bites in his wake, marking you as his.

With every kiss and bite you were a whimpering mess for him, grinding your hips against his, your core was pulsating and you needed him so badly at this point it hurt.

You finally began to undress each other, the want of him being inside of you taking over your body. You stood up to help remove his clothes making sure that you didn’t hurt his leg.

“Are you able to hold yourself up against a wall” You asked him with a smirk.

“Yes”

You grabbed his hand and shoved him against the wall before getting down on your knees, you stripped yourself down to your bra and underwear. Spencer had to stop himself from practically cumming at the sight.

“You are so fucking gorgeous” He manged to get out in between moans as you began to palm his erection through his underwear.

Finally having enough of teasing him you grabbed his underwear and dragged it down to his ankles, him kicking them off. You were shocked at the sight of him.

His tip was pulsating red with pre-cum as it rest against his stomach, you had never felt more aroused then you were in that exact moment you couldn’t wait any longer, you had to feel him.

You wrapped your hand around his erection, staring to stroke him gently. You stuck your tongue out as you drug it up and down his shaft, bringing it up from the base to the tip. You looked at Spencer, having a feeling that eye contact was a turn on for him, he moaned at the sight of you, which only egged you on even more.

You finally wrapped your lips around the tip, giving it a kiss before you began to to take him in your mouth. You wanted Spencer to fuck your mouth and that is exactly what he did. You felt his grip on the back of your head tighten as he began to thrust rapidly into your mouth, you made sure to relax your jaw to allow him more room inside of you.

He guided your mouth up and down his length, him loving the control that you gave him.

“You fucking love letting me you use that pretty mouth of yours. Fuck, it feels so good baby, you are taking it so well, like the good, slut that you are.” Between the praising and the degradation you were soaking wet and just dying to feel Spencer inside of you.

You loved that you were the only one to see him like this, the complete opposite of how he acted in work. He never cursed, he barely had the courage to take control. But, in this moment he was in full control and both of you were high off the feeling.

Spencer was so close to the edge as much as the idea of cumming down your throat excited him he needed to know hat it felt like to be inside of you first.

You pouted as Spencer yanked you off of him, dragging you up by the hair. You know stood practically dripping from how wet you were on shaky legs as he had to hold you up as he wiped the spit from your chin and the tears that fell from your eyes.

“As much as I wanted to cum into the pretty mouth of yours I think we would both enjoy it much more if I come in your fucking cunt.” Each word made you wetter by the second, he pushed your ruined panties to the side.

He started with two of those perfect and long fingers, that slipped with such ease inside of me, he roughly finger fucked me. He had to hold me up with one hand as we made out like horny teenagers.

As he pumped his fingers inside of me he began to rub my clit with his thumb, he could feel how close your were, the way you were clenching around his fingers, you had stopped kissing him to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers deep inside of you.

“Are you going to come for me, as I finger that tight pussy up against my apartment wall, for all my neighbors to hear. I want you to fucking scream my name as you moan. I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you came hard and quick a sting of curses and the doctors name falling from your lips. He never stopped his assault on your pussy, he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you as you came down from your high.

“Good girl, so fucking responsive to me and the real fun hasn’t even begun.”

He lead you to his bedroom him climbing up on the bed first carefully as to not hurt his leg, as soon as he was situated he told you to take off your bra and underwear as he patted his lap.

As soon as you straddled him he gripped your throat making your eyes roll to the back of your head, as his other hand guided his length into you.

Your moans were echoing through the bedroom as he entered you, filling you to the brim completely stretching you out. “Fuck, you take my cock so good baby, so fucking tight.” He stated as he began to pound into you from below you ground your hips against him trying to keep up with his pace.

His hand still tighten wrapped around your throat he pulled you towards him capturing your lips in a kiss that seemed a lot softer compared to the situation that the two of you were in now.

“Fuck, Spencer you fill me up so good.” He moaned at your words only pulling you closer to him and thrusting deeper inside of you. You felt yourself coming closer to release as he groaned against your ear.

The hand from your throat was removed only to move to your bundle of nerves circling it, “I want you to come all over my cock baby, before I fill you up with my load. Understood?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Come for me baby,” he pleads as he feels his release is close. A hot panting mess, you still managed to scream his name as you came.

Spencer wasn’t far behind you still thrusting into with such force, your pussy tightening around him added to his orgasm as he came deep inside of you.

“Oh, god, fuck that feels so good baby.”

You two just sat there for awhile in pure bliss, both of you hot sweaty messes but neither of you cared. After a couple of minutes he pulled out of you you whimpered at the soreness that you felt, but knew that Spencer would take care of it for you.

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before he hobbled (since he left his crutches in the living room) his way to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean you up, you flopped over onto your stomach feeling completely drained.

You couldn’t stop the giddy feeling that coursed throughout your entire body you had never thought this moment was going to happen, especially with a co-worker that you fantasized about on a daily basis. You had finally realized you were also madly in love with this man.

Unbeknownst to you Spencer had felt the same giddy feeling as he stood just there in the bathroom staring at his reflection in the mirror with a smile that spread across his entire face. He had to realized the love he had for you and couldn’t be happy then to tell you.

*****

“Some love stories aren't epic novels. Some are short stories. But that doesn't make them any less filled with love.”

- Carrie Bradshaw

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #bau team

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hughlauriebf · 3 years

Text

me: hey wouldn’t it be funny if i posted that one fic i’ve been working on?

also me: yeah wouldn’t that be funny?

(stacee/gary, suggestive themes but its sfw)

The clinking of ice cut the empty silence of the kitchen as it fell into the glass. Stacee poured in some water, he wasn't going sober quite yet but he couldn't deal with his headache from the remains of whatever party he went to that morning.

He could barely remember a thing.

He rubbed his temples, trying his hardest on if he could remember what happened. Really, he just wanted to go back to sleep in an attempt to kill whatever sharp pain was going inside his skull despite it being late. He debated on calling someone but none of the people he called friends were the comforting type.

However, before he could get a cold sip, a knock at the door startled him from the groggy state.

He gives a pained smile at the door as if the person behind it could see he didn't want to be bothered but was too nice to tell them. However he is too nice and forces himself to answer the door. Hoping it wasn't another desperate fan who somehow found his address or a reporter that hard-up for an interview. How they even could find his address despite never announcing he was in England for a tour would be the most baffling to him.

However what Stacee didn't expect was to see him.

"Hi Gary" Stacee says in a flat tone, rubbing his forehead knowing his friend was going to suggest something that would make his pain worse for the night.

He expected his drinking buddy to say in an excited, bubbly tone to suggest drinking yet another expensive bottle of alcohol that Stacee could never imagine Gary having the money for or to beat around the bush on asking for a quick fuck that he would put a price on later.

Except instead the tall goth wrapped his arms around his back. Stacee, not expecting the hug, accidentally lets Gary faceplant onto his chest. The slightly shorter man can hear a few muffled sniffles coming from Gary before he places a hand on his black hair, rubbing his head ever so gently. Gary lets out a stuffy whine.

"You okay Gary?" His voice quickly drops to a more softer tone as Stacee attempts to comfort him. He had never seen him like this.

At first Stacee thought Gary had gotten drunk and decided to visit him except his crying friend didn’t have the smell of cheap liquor and cigarettes on him.

"Gary, how did you get here?"

"I walked,'' he says, muffled, without moving his face from Stacee's chest.

"How did you get in?" Stacee asks, puzzled as to how Gary got past the security system.

"Gate," Gary responds, not moving from the spot on the shirt, he lazily points behind him. Stacee looks above his shoulder to see the dented bush in the distance assuming Gary climbed the fence. Shocked that Gary had the ability to climb a fence that high.

"Are you hurt? That's a high drop."

Gary doesn't answer in words only letting out another long, pained whine.

The whiny blanket finally picks himself up to make his position more comfortable, replacing his hands from Stacee’s back to resting his arms on the other man's shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Gary whimpers out before softly crying, he clearly didn’t want to be heard.

Stacee, feeling bad about moving Gary, instead slowly backs into his house with the now crying human trench coat hanging off of him before he is able to close the door.

Stacee pats the other man’s back as he attempts to walk backwards to his couch while the crying mess is close to smothering him with his heavy layers. The shorter man finally reaches a couch but hits the headrest with his ass and considers this is the best he’s going to get while carrying the uncooperative laundry.

He turns around and gently places Gary on the couch, considering he's not going to remove his arms, Stacee sits with him.

The crying tar pit finally lifts his head up from his little nest of fabric, peaking one of his eyes at Stacee before planting a surprise kiss on his cheek before going back to sniffling, this time amplified in Stacee's ear as he refused to move from his neck.

“Gary, why did you come here,” Stacee asks, his tone sounding comforting but he knew he'll get a fruitless answer from his friend.

“I’m sorry. I’m... sorry for b-botherin’ you, ” Gary, still having his face on his cheek, could barely get the words out as he tightens his chokehold on Stacee's neck as if he's a pillow.

He then fixes his position where he's sitting on Stacee's thigh so that he faces him, knowing that he could easily knee him in the dick by accident given his lanky figure. He starts sniffling again while looking at him before it transitions into crying again with volume. Gary assumes he's being too loud and muffles himself with his coat's arm, using his other arm to hide him like a shameful vampire.

Stacee remains quiet for a moment, thinking again about what Gary could even be visiting him for as Gary is known for either wanting an enabler, a quick fuck, or money. He never cried for money though. Stacee continued looking towards the stairs given how loud Gary was crying.

“I just… I never felt. I never felt like this to anyone. Fuck. Not eve-not even An-,” he says in an attempt to fight his crying but to no avail. Embarrassed, he switches to burying his face in his palms.

“I’m- I’m sorry Stevie. I’m sorry. I don’t. I could... I could’ve said this one on the phone. I thought I could. I- B-but I wanted to see you. I’m not. [Inhale] This isn’t like me," he says shakily before crying again and puts his face back into his palms.

"I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry," Gary says as he uses his coat arm as a tissue for his tears.

Stacee's eyes widen and his expression drops into concern in response to hearing him say it.

"Its okay Gary, just. Did something happen?" He places his other hand on Gary's hip thinking the strange position of the hug would help.

"Yes," Gary manages to choke out, still having his hands buried in his hands. "I had the nightmare again," saying in a tone that sounds almost like he bullshited an answer but Gary removes his hands from his face just stares into his friend's green eyes with a tear covered face that tells more than whatever he could say in his current state. Although he'd only seen this face once before, Stacee knew he wasn't joking.

Stacee sits in silence before planting a hand and rubbing Gary’s back, questioning why Gary is crying over telling him this.

"Oh Gary," Stacee says in a soft voice as he rubs Gary's hip in an attempt to comfort him.

"I. I know I'm just a your quick shag, there's nothing special about me jus-"

"Don't say that."

"It-its true. Just liste- You." He pauses for a while, trying to not let another bawling fit come out of him.

"You make. You make me feel...safe" he whimpers, trying his hardest not to cry again as his breathing is harsh. “That’s why I came. I-I needed to see you,” he barely says without hyperventilating.

Stacee doesn't say anything and tries to pull Gary close to him, letting him rest his head on the nook of his shoulder as he places one of his hands on the back of Gary's shoulder, the sniffling fabric attempts to muffle himself against Stacee’s shoulder, gingerly pushing aside the brunette hair as to not soak it in his tears. Stacee realises he’s not done and attempts to comfort his friend by resting his other hand on Gary's bristle-like hair, softly combing it. He holds this position for a while only listening to Gary's breathing, hoping it would help calm him down.

Gary says nothing, trying to form a coherent sentence that isn't broken by his tears. He enjoys the feeling of his head being touched before pulling himself back up to make eye contact with Stacee who moves one of his hands on the other's lower back to stabilise him.

"I-I'm aware I normally… ask for favours but… I don't want to fuck tonight, I just. Can I just sleep here instead, Stev?" Gary asks in probably the first genuine tone Stacee has heard, but the way Gary asks has a hint of distress following it.

Without warning, Gary softly wraps his arms around Stacee's neck again, letting his fingers entangle themselves in the brunette's soft hair. He looked to the window in front of him and just stared at his reflection before balling up another part of Stacee's hair. Stacee lets out a sigh before reciprocating the gesture and rests his other hand around Gary's waist, pulling him in to briefly kiss his neck.

"Sure Gaz."

Given the situation, Stacee opts to pick up Gary bridal style to his bedroom, still having the much larger man keeping his face in place. Gary was always surprised when Stacee could pick him up. The shorter man slowly works his way up the steps, carefully trying to avoid bumping his friend into the rails. Stacee makes his way to a room before Gary notices that the door is different.

“I thought you slept there,” Gary asks half-heartedly, pointing to an opposite room, still keeping his head near Stacee’s chest.

“Hey Man’s in that one,” Stacee whispers in response before slowly opening the door on his right. "And that's the guest room," Stacee says to himself before closing the door behind him.

Gary's eyes dart around to the room, mainly focusing on the bed. The bed was huge, with a massive amount of pillows. Stacee walks over to the edge of the bed and gently places Gary down, who somehow was slow to cling off like a sloth being removed from its branch.

Despite his tear-covered face, he finally held a smile for once. The bed was incredibly soft. He turns his head to face Stacee who he instead sees the wings on his back as he gets ready for bed. He strips into nothing but his boxers but once he's finished he stares at Gary like he's foreign.

"Gar, you gonna get ready?"

Gary just stares at him bewildered, "I can sleep in this," his answer makes Stacee look at him sternly.

"I know you're wearing it."

"Wearing what?" Gary asks. As he just stares at his all-black garments.

Stacee sits on the opposite side of Gary, and holds his hands, helping him sit on his knees. Gently, he places his hands on the rim of Gary’s belt before slowly removing his shirt, stopping at a part of his chest where the bandages poked out. Stacee stayed in silence, only letting his face show disappointment.

"You can't sleep with that on," he says as works his way around to Gary's surprisingly bony back to undo them. He stares into the worried pale-blue eyes in front of him. "You know I won't judge," he says with a bit of a smile before the bandages fall onto the other man's hips.

He waits for Gary's permission, before he completely removes the shirt. Gary still makes an attempt to cover his chest with his arms despite the man in front of him who was accustomed to his body. Stacee changes the position of his hands to Gary's hips before his hands are swatted away.

"I can do this part," Gary whispers before slowly sliding off the bed. He undoes his laces on both of his boots before kicking them off somewhere in a general distance before attempting to rip off his pants.

"You never struck me as one to wear a thong," Stacee jokes in a soft voice, running a light touch on the band.

"Shut up, I held off on laundry," Gary responds with a light laugh, swatting behind him.

He finally sits down on the bed again, laying on his side. He doesn't say a word and just appreciates how his partner's face is illuminated by the moonlight. He places a hand on Stacee's cheek, lightly tracing a circle with his thumb. Gary removes his hand before scoots closer to Stacee, who gets up in response.

"I love you," Gary says in a choked voice. He gingerly places a hand on the other cheek.

"I love you too," Stacee says with a slight smile.

The two men stared at each other letting the silence speak for them. Stacee leans forward and pulls Gary into a kiss, gently brushing his lips against his own. His lips felt rough but warm. Gary reciprocates, entangling his fingers into the brunette's hair as he leans forward. The smell of oak and fresh pine from his cologne gave Gary a sense of comfort.

Though short, the kiss felt an eternity as the two break off.

"I fucking love you," Gary lightheartedly laughs before moving closer to Stacee and wrapping his arm around stomach and resting his head on Stacee's chest. Already prepared to fall asleep on him.

"Same here," Stacee responds with a whisper, he kisses the younger man's forehead before embracing him. He lets the silence drone out until his eyes feel heavy as he gets dragged to sleep.

#im tired of looking at it its giving me writer's block everytime i work on it #yes this is the fic i was dared to write #there's one minor joke for rock of ages but other then that you really don't need to see either roa or world's end #rock of ages #the world's end #gary x stacee #my writing

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darkshadow90 · 3 years

Text

Arthur Fleck x reader: He gets...passionate after his coworkers don’t believe he has a girlfriend

Summary: You and Arthur have been dating for a little while. One day while he’s at work, he tells his coworkers he has a girlfriend. They don’t believe him, and mock him. He comes home to you, and you experience the passionate and dominant personality in the bedroom.

A/N: Hey guys. This is one of two BDSM/kink requests I received from someone here on tumblr. They requested to have Arthur become rough and dominant with the reader. The sex becomes intense and the reader uses the safe word but at the same time she doesn’t want him to stop, so Arthur keeps going. This is my first time writing something BDSM/kink related. I don’t participate in BDSM in real life, and I’m not sure if it’s something I’d be into. I’m also not extremely knowledgeable in these areas. I know basic things, but I don’t know if I know enough to do a good job writing it. I can’t see Arthur becoming rough and dominant for no reason. I think he would have to be in a bad mood or jealous. That being said, I don’t see any harm in writing something different. Warnings: rough sex, dominant behavior, possibly dub con, NSFW. If you’re underage, don’t read this. Anon, I hope you like this even if some things might be different from your request. The BSDM itself may be a bit softer than what you initially requested. I don’t think I’m experienced enough to write rougher BDSM. I also don’t have much experience writing NSFW content/smut in general, so I hope this is okay. Sorry it took so long 🙂 Please let me know if I missed any warnings.

It had been a long day for Arthur. He wasn’t invited to social gatherings very often, but on this particular night, he was. “Hey Arthur, me and the guys are gonna grab some drinks at the pub. Wanna come?” Gary was always nice to Arthur. It made him feel good to be included, but he felt bad he had to decline Gary’s invitation. “Thanks Gary, but I can’t. I need to get home to my girlfriend.” His coworkers were silent for a moment, but soon began laughing in disbelief. “Hey, boys. You hear that? Art got himself a little girlfriend,” Randall snorted. “Yeah sure, whatever you say, Artie. What girl in her right mind would want to be with you? I bet she’s with you out of pity.” One of the men said. “Yeah. That’s the funniest joke you’ve ever told, Arthur. Maybe you would make a good comedian after all.” “The poor girl probably hasn’t been with a real man before.” The last two men chortled. Gary was the only person who wasn’t laughing at Arthur. He gave him a sympathetic look and signaled he would see him the next morning. The last thing Arthur heard from one of the men as he left Ha-Ha’s was “See you tomorrow. Give it to her good, big man,” followed by more laughter.

Arthur didn’t take the subway home. He walked. He was fuming. They had the nerve to mock you like that. He was used to being made fun of. It wasn’t new to him at all. But to suggest that you had no experience, that you had never been with a man before, that you were only with him because you pitied him and didn’t know what you wanted was more insulting to him. ‘How dare they talk about her like that? Y/N is the person that makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever felt. She’s amazing. If she has any doubts about me being a real man, she won’t have any after tonight. I’ll give it to her good alright.’ He felt heat building up in his stomach. He was determined to eliminate any doubts you might have.

He made it to the apartment and quickly unlocked the door, opening it. You were getting ready to make dinner. “Hey Arthur how was-” you were interrupted as he grabbed you, nipping the side of your neck. It wasn’t hard enough to case pain, but it got your attention. You gasped at the sensation, and he kissed you. He kissed you roughly, and nipped your bottom lip. You felt your face heat up. “I need you. Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” You nodded and went to the bedroom. Arthur was very glad he had already washed his clown makeup off and changed back into his regular clothes before he left Ha-Ha’s. He was very eager to be with you. You were laying on the bed waiting for him. He was always stunned by how beautiful your body looked, even though he had seen you naked several times. He got a soft scarf out of one of the drawers and tied your hands together. “You’re always so good for me.” He became rougher in his actions. He kisssed you again, rougher, it was more demanding. He made his way to your neck and bit you. “Fuck!” It wasn’t painful. It surprised you more than anything. Arthur usually got a bit more dominant when he had bad days. You decided you would ask him about it once he had gotten everything out of his system. You found it attractive when he took control. “That’s right, baby. After tonight any doubts you have about me will be put to rest.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but you didn’t have much time to think about it. He left little bite marks has he moved down your body.

When he finally made his way between your legs., you whimpered as he nipped each of your thighs. Your core was throbbing and you tried to break free from your binds. Arthur had tied them tightly so you couldn’t break free. He noticed you were trying to break free. “I want to touch you. Please.” Your plea went straight to his groin. “No. I’m not done yet. If you’re good and wait just a little bit longer, I’ll untie you.” You nodded and let him continue. His breath was warm against you. He was finally where you needed him. He ate you like he was starving. He wasn’t usually this aggressive when going down on you, so whatever happened must’ve upset him. You didn’t mind. It felt amazing. He applied more pressure and went deeper inside of you. “Ohh my god, Artie.” Your voice was barely audible. He groaned, sending a pleasurable vibration through you. Your body felt like it was on fire and you felt your stomach tighten. You were close, but just as you were about to come, Arthur pulled away. You whined in frustration. He was removing his pants. “You’re doing so well. Tell me what you want.” You were overwhelmed and almost breathless. “You. I want all of you, Artie.” He untied your hands. “Hold onto me.” His voice was slightly lower than usual. You grabbed onto his shoulders. He finally thrusted inside you, roughly. You were startled by the slight pain. He kept going. His thrusts were brutal. It felt like the wind was being knocked out of you. You said your safe word, but you didn’t really want him to stop. You dug your nails into his shoulders as a way to steady yourself. The mix of pain and pleasure was enough to send you over the edge.

Arthur helped you sit up. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I heard you say your safe word, but I couldn’t stop since I was in the middle of an orgasm.” “I know. It’s okay. I was just overwhelmed by everything. You didn’t hurt me.” “Are you sure?” You cupped his face in both hands. “Yes, Arthur. I promise you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m fine.” “Do you want me to run you a bath?” “A bath sounds nice.” Once you finished your bath, the two of you ate dinner and watched a movie. “So what happened today to get you riled up? Was it work again?” “Yeah. Gary invited me to go have drinks with him and the guys tonight, and when I told them about you, they didn’t believe me. They laughed at me, and lightly insulted you. I took it personally especially what they said about you. Well , everyone except Gary. Gary didn’t laugh or say mean things. He’s always nice.” “Well, why don’t I come to your work and meet the guys.” “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.” “Oh, come on, why not? I’m a big girl. Besides, think of the look on their faces when I throw their shit back at them. It’ll be fun. I’ll get to meet this Gary you talk so much about.” Arthur sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get you to change your mind. “Okay you can come. Just be careful.” “Everything will be fine, you don’t need to worry.” You kissed him on the forehead and continued watching the movie. The next day would be very interesting, indeed.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck x female reader #joker movie #joker fandom #joker imagine #joker 2019

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – NAZDAROVYA! (S01E15)

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

Try not to move. You’re going to be all right.

You’re going to be fine.

[horn honking]

Gabby Dawson: Hey! Hey! Stop!

Stop!

[horn honking]

[tires screech]

Gabby Dawson: Gunshot wounds to the abdomen and left chest.

Exit under the arm caught the axillary artery.

Doctor: I’ll take over on pressure.

Gabby Dawson: He’s my brother. I’m going into the OR with you.

Doctor: Can’t do it. Now.

Got it. Somebody grab the monitor. Let’s get him down the

hall into four. Go, go, go.

cutscene

Nurse: He’s all cleaned up, daddy.

Kelly Severide: Oh, no, I’m not the… I’m not the… I’m…

Okay.

Oh, Oh.

Hey guy.

[baby coos]

Kelly Severide: Hey buds.

Leslie Shay: Daddy.

Kelly Severide: Hey bud.

[phone chimes & vibrates]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Dawson. What happened?

Oh baby.

Gabby Dawson: [crying] I don’t know.

[sobs]

cutscene

[door shuts]

Matt Casey: [exhales]

Nancy Casey: I’m not happy about our fight last night. It’s important

to me that we communicate.

Matt Casey: I agree.

Nancy Casey: I get the sense you weren’t too happy about me

going out with my friend Gary last night.

Matt Casey: It had nothing to do with… Gary. I was worried about

my mother violating her parole.

Nancy Casey: Fine [clears throat]

Agreed.

Can we… agree to trust each other? To discuss

things like two adults?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Nancy Casey: I’m happy to hear it. Eat while they’re still warm.

[mug clanking]

Matt Casey: You know something? You’re right.

If we’re gonna live together, we need to get things out

in the open. So I’m gonna ask.

Why’d you do it?

Nancy Casey: Now you’re just being hurtful.

Matt Casey: No, I’m asking a question I need the answer to.

In 15 years, you never told me why. What made you go

over to dad’s?

Nancy Casey: You always do this!

- title -

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: He was really cagey [clears throat]

We were talking right before it happened.

Peter Mills: Listen, he’s… he’s lucky that you were there. Okay?

Gabby Dawson: Pete, it’s fine. She knows.

Leslie Shay: Is he out of ICU?

Gabby Dawson: No, not yet. I’m gonna go to the hospital after shift.

Leslie Shay: All right. I’ll go with you.

Matt Casey: Hey.

[door closes]

Matt Casey: I just heard. How is he?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, he lost a lot of blood, so they’re still doing

transfusions.

Matt Casey: [sighs] I’m so sorry. Your brother went so above and

beyond for me with the Voight thing. If there’s

anything I can do, just… let me know.

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Matt Casey: Uh, Chief wanted me to tell you there’s a police

detective here to see you in his office for some

follow-up questions.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Chief Boden: Dawson, come on in. This is Detective Ben Vikan from

Narcotics.

[door closes]

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Very sorry to hear about Antonio. We got

damn near every cop in this city out looking

for who shot him.

Gabby Dawson: Good to know.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Antonio was looking for the leader of the

crew that’s been putting out the bad drugs.

He talked to you about that? ‘Cause I know

you had a conversation with him right

before he was shot.

Gabby Dawson: He said that guys from Narcotics were being

territorial and didn’t want a guy from Vice taking

his collars, so he was doing twice the work.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): [chuckles] Let’s have an honest

conversation.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your brother went way off the reservation

on this one.

Chief Boden: You told me you were here to investigate the shooter,

not investigate Antonio.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): It’s all related, Chief, and unfortunately, the

first step is to try to sift through eight layers

of lies he told his superiors and colleagues,

myself included.

Gabby Dawson: I’d trust my brother with my life. I don’t know you

from a load of wood.

Man 1 (Det Ben Vikan): Your boss has my card if you decide to

change your mind and help.

[door closes]

Gabby Dawson: I honestly don’t know anything about what’s going

on with Antonio.

Chief Boden: Okay.

[door closes]

cutscene

Eric Whaley: Morning.

Kelly Severide: Morning.

[paper bag rustling]

Eric Whaley: You still work on boats?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

[paper bag continues to rustle]

Kelly Severide: Boater’s key. Thanks.

Eric Whaley: Mmm, you probably already got one, right?

Kelly Severide: Always use another.

Eric Whaley: I was out of line last shift. So, uh, that is half a peace

offering.

Kelly Severide: Accepted. The other half?

Eric Whaley: A bribe.

Kelly Severide: [chuckles] These things cost 7 bucks, man.

Eric Whaley: Fair enough.

Kelly Severide: [chukles]

Eric Whaley: Look [clears throat]

Now that I know what really happened between you

and Renee, I’m thinking she’s probably been letting

the guilt beat her up this whole time. I got no right to

ask this, but… I think if you reached out to her, it

could go a long way towards turning things around.

‘Cause like I said, man, we don’t hear from her.

Look, this is her cell number. At least I think it is. It’s a

computerised voice.

I’ve left messages…

Kelly Severide: Eric, I don’t even really know what I would say.

So maybe it’s just best to leave the past in the

past.

Eric Whaley: Maybe even just hearing your voice might make a

difference.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

[knocks on locker]

cutscene

Peter Mills: Hey, chow’s up.

[dog whines]

Peter Mills: Hey, hey, don’t you even think about it.

[dog whimpers]

Christopher Herrmann: Shay, this is that baby book I was telling

you about. Lots of good stuff, swaddling,

soothing…

Leslie Shay: Thanks Herrmann. Hey, do you know if it says anything

about sleep schedules.

Christopher Herrmann: I didn’t read it.

Leslie Shay: Hmm.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, you’re our guy for construction on

the new bar, right?

Matt Casey: I believe the offer was free consultation.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay. All right. Fine.

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Christopher Herrmann: The inspection is tomorrow, and then our

new silent partner is coming over here

later for a meet and greet. We just gotta

make sure that this guy knows that we’re

driving this car.

Otis Zvonecek: Go easy. Extra partner means lower cost for the

rest of us.

Mouch: I’m with Herrmann. There’s an old Japanese proverb. Don’t

let your daughter-in-law eat your autumn eggplants.

Christopher Herrmann: What the hell does that mean?

Mouch: Don’t let yourself be taken advantage of.

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Engine 51, Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Possible drowning.

[sirens blaring, horns honking]

Matt Casey: There.

Boy 1: We were playing and all of a sudden, Patrick fell in!

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, help my son.

Chief Boden: How long’s he been under?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Three minutes, maybe more.

Chief Boden: Let’s get that straight-frame to the edge of the lake

right now.

Matt Casey: Exactly where did he fall in?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Right here. He came up for a second. Then

he… he went right back down again.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Kelly Severide: Keep feeding me line until I hit bottom. Then allow 6

more feet every time I tug twice, all right? When I

tug three times, I’ve got the kid.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Please, God, please… Find my boy!

[indistinct radio chatter]

[water splashing]

[dramatic music]

Hadley: All right, he’s at the bottom.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Hadley: Three tugs! He’s got him.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): [gasps]

Chief Boden: Medics, get ready.

Mills, go with the ambulance as backup.

Peter Mills: Right.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Oh my God. Is he alive?

[voice breaking] Patrick.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s put him in the right now.

[siren wailing]

Leslie Shay: Pushing epinephrine.

Gabby Dawson: Shay, check for lung sounds.

Leslie Shay: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Come on, Patrick.

Leslie Shay: You’re in.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s do a pulse check.

Leslie Shay: Come on, Patrick. Come on.

Gabby Dawson: Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait a second.

Peter Mills: What?

Gabby Dawson: I have a pulse.

Peter Mills: Wait, are you sure?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Yeah, pulses.

[air pumping]

Peter Mills: BP’s 60 over 40.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales]

Peter Mills: [exhales]

Leslie Shay: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey. How’s the kid?

Leslie Shay: Good.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Leslie Shay: Yeah. Got him warmed up. His BP is stabilised.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Lieutenant?

Kelly Severide: Hey, I just heard the news. That’s great.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yes. Thanks to you guys. Um… I just want you

to know, uh… I didn’t… my son was in that

water, and I froze. I… I did nothing.

Kelly Severide: Sir…

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): I don’t know why I just stood there. I wanted

to move, but my feet wouldn’t…

Kelly Severide: Listen to me. I’ve been to thousands of accident

scenes, and you never know any given day how

someone’s going to react.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Yeah, but I did nothing. He’s my son, and I did

nothing.

Kelly Severide: That’s cold, dangerous water. You went in there,

we’d have been rescuing two.

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): If you hadn’t shown up…

Kelly Severide: But we did.

And now your boy’s gonna be fine.

And you’re gonna be here to take him home. Okay?

Man 2 (Trilling/Dad): Okay. Thanks.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Let me handle this.

Otis Zvonecek: All right.

Christopher Herrmann: All right.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Arthur. Sorry for the wait.

Man 3 (Arthur): Ah, not a problem. I appreciate what you guys do.

Christopher Herrmann: All right, we wanted to open up the lines of

communication and let you know our

perspective on the whole partnership thing.

Man 3 (Arthur): So, uh, with the Latino girl, uh, we’re four, right?

Otis Zvonecek: I think that’s actually Latina.

Man 3 (Arthur): Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah. Look, I’m no math major, but

partnership-wise, that’s that’s, uh, 25% stake each,

no?

Christopher Herrmann: Whoa, whoa, whoa. No, no, no. The old

man definitely did not say equal

partnership. He said take care of you

based upon what you brought to the

table. So construction, hauling, initial

investment.

Man 3 (Arthur): I don’t have a lot of out-of-pocket money to do any

investing. I… so…

Christopher Herrmann: We’re not talking 25% then.

Man 3 (Arthur): Okay, sure. Yeah, yeah. No, I… I get your point.

Christopher Herrmann: Listen, let’s just see what you bring to the

table. We’ll see how it goes, and we’ll

make sure that it’s fair.

Man 3 (Arthur): Sounds great. Uh, look, I gotta get back to work,

but I’ll see you tomorrow at the inspection, huh?

Christopher Herrmann: Yeah.

Otis Zvonecek: Okay

Herrmann & Otis: [laughs]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: [chuckles] Hi there, little guy.

Clarice: You know, Daniel’s planning on using the fact that I was in

therapy and on antidepressants as proof that I’m mentally

unstable.

Leslie Shay: Screw Daniel. We’re strong enough. We’ll handle

whatever he throws our way.

Clarice: Well, the lawyer did say there was another option.

Leslie Shay: What?

Clarice: We could offer 50/50 custody.

Leslie Shay: Clarice…

Clarice: I know Daniel will take it. You know, and then we can just

end all of this and focus on being a family.

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Hey, you. Hi.

Okay.

cutscene

[background chatter]

Gabby Dawson: Knock, knock.

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Antonio Dawson: I’d be dead, you hadn’t been there.

Gabby Dawson: No, you’d have crawled your way to the front door.

Antonio Dawson: Has anybody come talk to you?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, some detective from Narcotics named Vikan.

Antonio Dawson: Yeah. He’s after my badge.

Gabby Dawson: He’s saying you’ve gone off the rails.

Antonio Dawson: Look, this started out as prostitutes getting a hold

of bad dope. That’s a Vice case, which is why I

got involved. Then it turned into the bad dope

being dealt. That’s when Narcotics came in.

Gabby Dawson: Hey…

Antonio Dawson: Then it became about that new gang that I was

telling you about trying to push their way in and

take over.

Gabby Dawson: [inhales] Laura and the kids?

Antonio Dawson: Department’s putting them in protective custody

until they catch who tried to kill me.

Gabby Dawson: Have they been threatened?

Antonio Dawson: There’s been some hang ups on our home phone

line.

Gabby Dawson: If this was all about gangs, there is one cop who

could have helped out.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t even think about it.

[gate opening]

[keys jingling]

[metal clanking]

[chains clinking]

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] Uh… my name’s Gabriela Daw…

Hank Voight: I know who you are. What the hell do you want?

Gabby Dawson: My brother, Antonio Dawson, he works in Vice…

Hank Voight: Yeah, yeah. He’s the guy who put the cuffs on me.

You tell him I said hi, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, well, this involves him. So if you’ve got your

panties in a twist over how he does his job and

that’s a deal breaker for you, you just say so, and

I’ll leave.

Hank Voight: Continue.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat] He’s investigating some bad dope

that’s been dumped on prostitutes. Uh, it’s about

some new gang…

Hank Voight: I’ve heard all about that.

Gabby Dawson: He was shot a couple days ago. But this is more

than just him and his family still having a bull’s

eye on their chest. Girls are dying out there. If my

brother was willing to risk his life trying to stop it,

I’m willing to risk mine trying to help him.

Hank Voight: My ex-partner had a thing he liked to say. “What was

the first thing Adam said when the good Lord

dropped him in Eden?” What’s in it for me?

Gabby Dawson: You know, I came here on the off chance that,

despite what happened, you might still care

about trying to prevent people from dying.

I don’t know what your jail situation is. As a former

cop, I’m assuming you’re segregated. So…

maybe by helping out, that would go a ways to

getting you some better… Uh, I don’t know,

accommodations.

Hank Voight: Then this conversation becomes about favours.

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Okay.

Hank Voight: Okay what?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, you help me, I’ll help you.

Hank Voight: You’re gonna wanna talk to a guy named T.T.

He operates out of a two-story on the corner of 27th

and State. And I wouldn’t advise you come knocking

for him on your own.

Gabby Dawson: Well, I can take care of myself.

Hank Voight: Fine. Just tell him Voight sent you. You’re looking for

someone to testify about the Red Hooks. That’s the

gang your brother was trying to take down. T.T. owes

me. And he’s motivated because the Red Hooks are

trying to move in on his actions.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, okay. All right, got it. T.T. Got it.

Hank Voight: I’ll be seeing you around.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks for your help.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: I don’t get this inspector, man. This bar’s been here

for 30 years. The old man said he never had a

problem.

Christopher Herrmann: Shut up.

So how’s it looking?

Man 4 (Inspector): Unfortunately, we have issues. Main one being

the layout. Your kitchen and bar area are too

close together.

Christopher Herrmann: Mr. Stephanidies said that you’ve always

approved it.

Man 4 (Inspector): Ah, well, see, that’s a different situation.

Mr Stephanidies and I had an understanding.

Otis Zvonecek: Huh, okay. Let me handle this

[clears throat]

Man 4 (Inspector): [laughs] Oh God.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: What are you, posing for a calendar?

Kelly Severide: It’s called a football hold.

Leslie Shay: Oh… [laughs]

[baby coos]

Leslie Shay: Thank God he looks like Clarice.

[sighs] Was he crying?

Kelly Severide: No. Not too bad.

Leslie Shay: I must have been out like a light. I’m so sorry.

Kelly Severide: No, it’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.

Leslie Shay: [yawns]

Kelly Severide: Hey, this attorney you guys got…

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm?

Kelly Severide: Do you think he can locate people?

Leslie Shay: Like?

Kelly Severide: Like Renee… Whaley?

Leslie Shay: Really?

Kelly Severide: No, it’s not like that. Eric came to me, asking if I

could reach out. I guess they’ve all tried and

failed. He gave me a cell number. I left a

message, but… maybe if I just showed up

and… and… I don’t even know why I’m talking

about this.

Leslie Shay: You’re talking about it ‘cause it might help.

Kelly Severide: What would I gain from this? Nothing.

What?

Leslie Shay: I mean… today at the hospital, you reached out to

some father you’ve never met, but, uh, you don’t

wanna try and help out someone you almost

married?

cutscene

[keys jiggling]

[door opens and closes]

Gabby Dawson: Uh, my name’s Gabriela. I’m-I’m looking for T.T.

[gasps]

[gun cocks]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): Why you asking around about me, bitch?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Voight. Detective Voight. He told me to come see

you.

Man 5 (T.T.): You a cop?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers] I’m Gabriela Dawson, Firehouse 51.

I need your help.

My brother’s a cop, and he was shot last night.

Girls are dying from bad dope. You know this

because they’re trying to move in on you.

Voight told me that you can get somebody to

testify against the Red Hooks.

[gun cocks]

Man 5 (T.T.): You come around her again…

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

Man 5 (T.T.): I’mma blow your head clean off.

Do you understand me?

Gabby Dawson: [whimpers]

[footsteps departing]

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [gasps]

[pants]

cutscene

[engine revving]

[techno music playing]

[low chatter]

Kelly Severide: Renee.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I will be right back.

Kelly Severide.

Kelly Severide: Good seeing you. How you doing?

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): What brings you? Or is this just one hell of

an awkward coincidence?

Kelly Severide: No, um… I’m working with Eric at the same house,

51.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Oh?

Kelly Severide: And he asked if I’d come…

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): I’m doing fine.

Is that what you came to find out?

Kelly Severide: I guess so, yeah.

Lady 1 (Renee Whaley): Well your question’s been answered then.

Thanks for your concern.

cutscene

[door closes]

Chief Boden: This is probably gonna come as a surprise to you.

Jail visitation logs are monitored. Certainly those

concerning dirty ex-cops.

I got a call. Several, in fact. What’s my response

gonna be, Gabby?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I went there to see if Voight would provide

any help with the Antonio thing.

Chief Boden: Gabby.

[sighs] I can’t do anything about what you do off shift,

so I will save my breath.

I will give you a bit of advice. The news on this is

gonna travel fast. Sure as hell got to me quick. So

you may wanna bring in a certain someone from

this house before it gets on the grapevine and he

forms his own opinion.

Gabby Dawson: They tried to kill Antonio, and for all I know, they

may still wanna finish the job. Plus all those

OD’s…

Matt Casey: Voight tried to take me out! He’s a liar and a crook!

Gabby Dawson: I know. But sometimes you gotta, you know…

dance with the devil.

Matt Casey: Really? Is that the way it works?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Casey, I didn’t feel like I had any other

choice. I’m sorry.

Matt Casey: Hey, just do what you need to do, okay? I hope it

works out.

[door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: [kicks chair]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Hey, Eric.

Eric Whaley: Kelly.

Kelly Severide: So, um, I-I saw Renee.

Eric Whaley: You’re kidding.

Kelly Severide: No.

Eric Whaley: [chuckles] That’s great.

Or was it?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. No she’s… she’s doing fine.

Eric Whaley: Where’d you find her?

Kelly Severide: This bar she works at.

Eric Whaley: Cocktail waitress?

Kelly Severide: Basically, yeah.

Eric Whaley: She good? She happy?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, she seems happy.

Eric Whaley: Thanks.

Kelly Severide: Mmhmm.

Eric Whaley: Hopefully I’ll hear from her.

Kelly Severide: Hope so.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Big day. We just heard the news.

Man 4 (Inspector): Congratulations.

Otis Zvonecek: I think a toast is in order here, huh? This is vodka

my parents brought back straight from the

homeland. Now, Herrmann and I are on duty, so

we can’t imbibe, but don’t let that stop you.

Nazdarovya.

Man 4 (Inspector): Um… I’ll pass.

If you just, uh, sign where the “X’s” are, and

you’ll be all set.

I want to apologise for any misunderstanding.

I’ll get these into the system right away, and

you’ll get your fully executed copies in the

mail shortly.

Man 3 (Arthur): I was thinking about our first conversation about

what it is I bring to the table. I bring a lot of

intangibles, I think they call it. In fact, I’d say I

bring 25% worth.

Ah.

cutscene

Peter Mills: You gotta stop this now. You wanna get shot too?

Just… let the investigation play itself out.

Gabby Dawson: I think I just ruined a friendship.

Peter Mills: With who?

[station alert buzzes & blares]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Battalion 25…

[kissing sound]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61. House collapse, 1600 block,

North Poplar.

[sirens blares]

Lady 2: The ceiling fell in! It sounded like thunder.

Matt Casey: We’ll take a look. Just stay back.

Lady 2: Our upstairs neighbour, he’s a crazy hoarder. Keeps all

these magazines and newspapers. We could hear the

floor creaking for months.

Christopher Herrmann: Have you seen him?

Chief Boden: Ma’am will you move to the corner? This building is

compromised. Everybody proceed with caution.

Matt Casey: Main level collapsed into the basement. Can’t get in

from here. Where’s the entrance to the basement?

Lady 2: The door’s open. Oh my God. My daughter goes down there

with her boyfriend sometimes.

Chief Boden: Okay, we’re going in. Truck, Squad, get all the airbags

and cribbing we have. Get it out here now.

[indistinct chatter]

[wood creaking loudly]

Chief Boden: We need to create a tunnel using airbags and

cribbing. We’ll slide ‘em in one by one, and then we’ll

use the cribbing as support. Severide, you’re in front.

Call out the line.

Kelly Severide: All right, Casey, Herrmann, Capp, Cruz, Hadley,

Mills, you guys are with me. The rest of you guys,

up to feed the line. Let’s go.

[loud creaking & cracking]

Kelly Severide: More cribbing.

Capp: Cribbing.

Kelly Severide: All right, up on yellow.

[motor humming, wood creaking & cracking]

[indistinct radio chatter]

Matt Casey: Send the Stokes basket down the tunnel.

Christopher Herrmann: Stokes basket.

Matt Casey: You guys okay?

Teen Boy: Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

Lady 2: Oh baby. Oh my baby.

Christopher Herrmann: There you go. She’s okay, mom. Got

banged around a little.

cutscene

Chief Boden: There’s a young woman in the briefing room. Says she

wants to talk to you.

Young Woman (Rose): You Gabriela?

Gabby Dawson: I am.

Young Woman (Rose): T.T. told me to come here.

[dramatic music]

Gabby Dawson: I’m glad you did.

Young Woman (Rose): And I can trust you?

Gabby Dawson: You can.

Young Woman (Rose): ‘Cause I’m not playing around. All right, if

I’m gonna help, I need assurances. I need

out of town for my testimony. They’ll kill me

in a second if they knew I was here.

Gabby Dawson: Whatever you need, it’ll be taken care of. You have

my word.

What do you know?

Young Woman (Rose): Everything.

cutscene

[locker opens]

[pills rattling]

[locker door shuts]

cutscene

[low conversation]

Man 3 (Arthur): Hey partner.

Christopher Herrmann: Arthur… I wanna come clean with you.

[metal clanging]

Christopher Herrmann: All right, the thing is, I got a checkered

history in terms of business investments.

Some people, they hoard broken junk.

Well, I hoard broken opportunities. My

point is is that I’m really looking forward

to owning this bar. It’s an investment

opportunity that I truly believe is gonna

work.

Man 3 (Arthur): So what’s the problem?

Christopher Herrmann: You’re the problem. You’re a bully.

You use threats and violence to intimidate

people, so if you wanna have at it and

smash up my legs just like you did that

poor bastard inspector, then have at it.

I mean it.

Man 3 (Arthur): Is that right?

Christopher Herrmann: I’m a firefighter, Arthur.

I see a lot of things that, believe me, you

don’t wanna see. I don’t get squeamish.

Instead of 25%, you get 1. 1% of what I

foresee as being pretty solid profits. All

for doing nothing but walking away from

our bar and staying away.

Man 3 (Arthur): I’ll expect my 1% monthly.

[boot closes]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: Any word back yet from Daniel on the 50/50 offer?

Clarice: Mm, no, not yet.

Leslie Shay: Oh, he’ll take it. It’s the best deal he’s gonna get, and

he knows it.

Clarice: [sighs]

Well, Wesley is gonna have a good man in his life,

regardless.

Kelly Severide: That’s nice of you to say.

All right, well, there you have it. I can keep it in my

room until you’re ready to swap it out.

[phone rings]

Kelly Severide: Eric.

Eric Whaley: You sure Renee seemed okay when you talked to her?

Kelly Severide: Yeah. Why?

Eric Whaley: I just got a call from the hospital. She took a bunch of

pills.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I told you not to go Gabby on this.

[kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: I know you did.

Antonio Dawson: Captain just told me your girl gave a full

statement, including the identity of the shooter.

Gabby Dawson: This ends it, right?

Antonio Dawson: Well, it should. But what did you promise Voight?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, I told him I’d return the favour. Whatever that

means.

Antonio Dawson: You’re in bed with this guy now, Gabby.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Someone tried to kill my brother.

If you mess with my family, you mess with me.

I don’t regret what I did.

Antonio Dawson: I love you. And I’m proud to be your brother.

cutscene

[phone rings]

[phone beeps]

[door closes]

Nancy Casey: I’m so sorry, Matt. Ron and I just kinda lost track of

time, and something happened with his car. I don’t

know, it had something to do with the clutch. And it

broke down on us right on the Eisenhower, of course.

We had to call the tow truck, go to the service centre.

D-Do-Do you want me to get the driver’s card and…

or-or the receipt?

Matt Casey: Yeah. Get ‘em for me.

Nancy Casey: I don’t know why I even bother.

Matt Casey: You got two weeks to find a new place.

Nancy Casey: What? Where am I gonna live? Where am I gonna

go?

Matt Casey: I don’t know.

You got two weeks to figure it out.

Nancy Casey: He chipped away at me, you know?

[keys clatter]

Nancy Casey: Every day. Your father.

He convinced me that, not only wasn’t I a worthy

mother, I wasn’t even a worthy person. I believed

him.

Then he started to do it to you. Every day another

sidelong comment, another criticism. You

remember it. I know you do. You started to

internalise it, and my worst fear was coming

true… that he was gonna do to you what he did to

me. So that night he called, we argued… and he

said something about you. Something… so cruel.

And I snapped. And I went, and I got the gun out

of the box that he kept in the closet. And I took

the house key that you left out. And I drove

across town. And I shot him.

Just to shut him up. Just to never hear those words

coming out of his mouth again.

I know what you’re thinking. I know what you

thought. But I know you, Matthew. You don’t have

that kind of anger inside of you, that ability to

completely lose control.

You’re not me.

And I think that’s what you really wanted to know.

- end -

Definitions:

Axillary artery = Is a large blood vessel that conveys oxygenated blood to the lateral aspect of the thorax, the axilla (armpit) and the upper limb.

OR = Operating Room

Cagey = Secretive; guarded. Reluctant to give information owing to caution or suspicion.

Vice = Police division whose focus is stopping public-order crimes like gambling, narcotics, prostitution, and illegal sales of alcohol.

Epinephrine = Adrenaline, also known as epinephrine, is a hormone and medication. Adrenaline is normally produced both by the adrenal glands and by a small number of neurons in the medulla oblongata (long stem-like structure which makes up the lower part of the brainstem), where it acts as a neurotransmitter involved in regulating visceral functions (e.g. functions)

Imbibe = Drink alcohol

Cribbing = Temporary wooden structure used to support heavy objects during construction, relocation, vehicle extrication and urban search and rescue.

Eisenhower = Interstate 290 (I-290) is an auxiliary Interstate Highway that runs westwards from the Chicago Loop. The portion of I-290 and I-294 to its east end is officially called the Dwight D. Eisenhower Expressway. In short form, it is known as “the Ike” or the Eisenhower.

19 notes · View notes

lone-survivor-six-tales · 3 years

Text

Ain’t That A Shot in The Head Ch.4

Six felt like she was floating. She could see nothing but darkness as she looked around. Just as she was starting to think she was dead, she felt a pulling sensation and the darkness gave way to light. When her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness she realized she was sitting in an examination room. In front of her stood a man that Six recognized.

"Dad! Dad's alive!" She thought as he continued to examine her. She wanted to stand up and hug him but no matter what she did her body wouldn't move.

"Alright you're done. I know it's tedious but you know how important these physicals are." He said as he put away his tools.

"Yeah I know, you say it every year." Six heard herself sigh as she hopped off the table. Walking over to his desk, she picked up a picture frame with a passage written in the frame.

"Revelations 21:6...why is that familiar…" She thought as she tried to will her body to turn and face her father. She didn't know why she knew her father would die but she wanted to look at him again so she could remember his face.

"I know it's boring and you'd rather be doing something else but think of it like this, people outside the vault don't have the luxury of getting a yearly checkup." Her father said, placing a hand on her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

"But people outside the vault don't have to be forced to have a kid to continue the population." She mumbled, placing the frame back down. Just as she was turning to face her father, another blinding light blocked out her vision. Instead of in the examination room she stood in a circular room. Alarms were blaring and she felt someone shaking her shoulder.

"Alice! We need to activate the purifier before it explodes!" A woman by her side said in a panicked voice.

"Alice? Is that me?" She thought as her body began walking into the room. Suddenly a rough hand clamped down on her shoulder and she began to struggle.

"Where do you think you're going? The radiation will kill you." Charon growled, turning her around to face him. No matter how hard she fought she couldn't break free of Charon's hold.

"Let me go! Let me start the purifier and then I can join dad!" She sobbed, trying to pry Charon's fingers off her. "Please Charon, just let me die."

Charon was silent as he pulled her into a hug. Her arms fell limp at her sides as she sobbed into his chest.

"Lyons, hold her." Charon said before pushing her away and over to the other woman. She had a harder time keeping her still but it gave Charon enough time for the doors to close behind him. When she broke free from Charon's hold she pounded on the doors and sobbed as Charon stared silently at her.

"Alice, what's the code?"

"Why won't you let me die?"

"Because this isn't the Alice I watched travel across the Capital Wasteland searching for her father and put herself in harm's way to save innocent people." Charon placed a hand on the glass and she put her hand over the same spot across from him. "You're not the same kid that crawled out of vault 101, you're stronger than this."

She sniffled and looked away from him. "Revelations 21:6, mom's favorite passage. The code is 216."

Charon nodded and turned around to input the code. As he activated the water purifier she was once again engulfed in a blinding light before everything went black.

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

Arcade walked into the tent where Boone and Six laid resting. While Six still laid unconscious, Boone was sitting up in his cot and staring silently at a groaning Six.

"Brought you some food." Arcade said, passing a plate of food to Boone before walking over to Six and wiping the sweat off her face with a rag.

"Has anything changed since I last checked in?"

"She started mumbling in her sleep. She was calling out for her dad and saying something strange."

Arcade raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Boone. "Do you want to tell me what it is or am I supposed to guess?"

He could tell Boone was glaring at him through his sunglasses as he took a bite of his food. "She said something like revelation and the number 216."

"Revelations 21:6?" Arcade was silent as he tried remembering the passage after reading the bible out of sheer boredom once. "I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely."

"What does that mean?" Boone asked, confused.

"I'm not the religious type so I don't know the subtle meanings but it must be important to her if she's mentioning it."

Before Boone could reply, Six let out a whimper as her arms twitched in her sleep.

"Please, let me die." Six sobbed. Arcade leaned down to check on her and noticed she was still unconscious. He heard Boone trying to get out of his cot and shot him a glare.

"Try getting out of bed again and I'm going to tie you down until you're fully healed. I had to pull three bullets out of your back and I'm not letting you break your stitches."

Boone growled but stayed in bed. He watched Arcade roll up her pant leg to check her cazador sting. The wound had turned a purple and green blotchy bruise but otherwise was healing nicely thanks to the antivenom from the followers.

"She's probably having a nightmare due to the venom being purged from her body." Arcade explained, jumping when Six grabbed onto his jacket sleeve. Slowly she opened her eyes and blearily looked up at Arcade.

"Where am I?" She asked, slowly sitting up. Arcade carefully helped her sit up and passed her a bottle of water which she drank quickly to quench her dry throat.

"You're with the followers of the apocalypse. Your buddy over there brought you here while filled with bullets." He gestured to Boone while gently prying Six's fingers off his sleeve. "You've been unconscious for about a day."

Once she was finished with the water he passed her a vial of antivenom. "Take this final dose to be sure the venom is out of your system and you're free to leave. Your friend on the other hand will still have to stay until his wounds heal a bit more."

Six couldn't help but gag at the taste of the antivenom she drank after Arcade left. She looked over at Boone who was laying on his stomach, torso completely wrapped in bandages.

"What happened? I can't remember anything past when you got shot in the leg." She asked, climbing out of her cot. Her wrapped leg and ankle gave her a limp but she felt fine enough to walk over and sit in the chair beside Boone.

"Got shot by fiends while trying to get into Freeside." Boone explained, carefully rolling onto his back with a wince.

"I'm sorry, you wouldn't have gotten hurt if it wasn't for me." Six looked down at her hands. She should just grab her things and leave. Boone probably thought she was a burden and will leave her when he's healed anyway.

"Six, shut up."

Six looked up to see Boone looking at her through his sunglasses. While it looked like he was glaring at her, she didn't hear any anger in his voice.

"I shouldn't have said what I did at camp. I said I knew nothing about you while I haven't told you anything about me."

Six sat back, chewing her bottom lip as she thought about what she remembered while unconscious. "Like I said before, I can't remember much about my life before getting shot. I've been having dreams that I think are my memories but they're so scattered that I can't make much out."

Boone nodded, taking his sunglasses off and placing them on the table next to his beret. "I grew up in California on a farm with my mother. My father was a soldier in the NCR before he died so I thought that's where I should be when I was old enough to enlist."

Six smiled lightly, trying to imagine a younger Boone working on a farm. It was hard to imagine. "While I was unconscious, I remembered I lived in the Capital Wasteland, at least I think that's what it was called."

Without his sunglasses, Six could see the surprise in Boone's eyes as he looked over at her. "The Capital Wasteland? That's all the way on the east coast. Why did you come all the way here?"

Six shrugged, grabbing her bag that was resting on the ground next to the table. After digging through she pulled out a piece of paper and Let out a sigh of relief, glad she didn't lose Charon's contract.

"I don't know but I know while in the Capital Wasteland I travelled with a ghoul named Charon. I'm assuming he came with me here but I don't know what happened to him when I got shot."

Boone thought for a moment. If she had come though NCR territory then she would have had to pass one of the checkpoints but unfortunately the NCR didn't have any checkpoints on the roads to the east. "If he came with you then he's probably looking for you too. If we stay around New Vegas then he'll probably make his way here."

Six nodded, putting the contract back in her bag before smiling lightly at Boone. "Other than that, I'm sure now that I lived in a vault when I was younger. I don't know what number but from what I remember, either we were encouraged not to leave or weren't allowed to."

"The fact it sounds like your vault is still running is surprising. I've only heard of a few vaults that are still active. Most are either abandoned or all the residents died in it."

While Six couldn't remember entering other vaults, she felt a certain dread at the mention of abandoned vaults and suddenly remembered disliking the name Gary.

Standing up, Six stretched lightly and put her bag on her back. "I'm going to take a walk and see how to get into the strip," she was silent for a moment before adding softly. "Can I assume you'll be joining me when you've recovered?"

Boone was silent, making Six assume she was wrong before he replied as he closed his eyes to take a nap.

"You still owe me a chance to kill some legionaries."

#fallout fanfic #fallout OC #craig boone #arcade gannon #fallout new vegas #fallout 3

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sebaschian · 3 years

Text

Automatically a Mama (Grelle Sutcliff) Chapter 1

Summary: While doing soul collection, Grelle gets faced with a situation. To take or not take in an orphaned human infant. Can she handle the responsibility of child care?

A/N: Female pronouns. Not your thing? Ignore this and don’t cause drama.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Kuroshitsuji series. I only own this fanfiction and the OC’s in here.

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Not much activity was happening in the human realm, but Grelle Sutcliff was tasked with the recollection of souls and records, not that she personally liked doing work but she was threatened with many more work if she slacked off or do what she wanted to do instead of work.

“Murder of a couple, South London... well this could be an interesting DEATH~!” She made her signature pose and head into the house. She inspected the scene, the couple had died holding one another close. The wife was on top of the husband, it seemed like their jewelry was stolen.

“Markus Rick and Marilyn Rosanne Harrington. Markus born February 8 1846 and Marilyn born August 19 1843, cause of death shot in the chest multiple of times, both of them owned a bakery and were very famous with their fruit crepes. Oh well, what a shame, they had to die this way.” Grelle saw through their cinematic records and put the COMPLETE stamp on their picture in the book.

“Well, I’m done for today, I gotta head off-” Grelle was about to turn and leave the place when, a tiny giggle stopped her in her tracks. “Huh?” she looked down and saw a small baby, being covered in blankets, looking as if their parents were trying so hard to hide them from the thieves that took their life.

“A baby...” Grelle felt for the little creature sure, but she had other things to do to pay attention to the tiny human who was playing with the blankets and looking at her. “I’m so sorry you have to be alone now, your mummy and dada are... gone little one. But I’m sure when the authorities come they will take you to an orphanage where they’ll care for you. Adieu, mon petit!” she then turned back to leave when the baby put a sad face behind her back and then started to cry.

Grelle felt a heartsqueeze just hearing those cries. They sounded so desperate, so scared, begging to not be left alone. Sometime inside Grelle was changing, could she really take in that mortal? No, she had to. She couldn’t really leave them like that. “Hey, hey, shhhh. It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not leaving.” She then turned back to the child and carefully picked them up in arms. The baby giggled automatically, since they were picked up as they wanted to.

The baby didn’t look like they were were a newborn, they appeared to be around a year old or at least ten months old, had dark black hair and green eyes, almost like a reaper but they were human.

“Oh, what did I get myself into, little one. Here with you, what am I supposed to do with you, hmm?” She wondered as she held the baby close to her.

“Ma...”

“Hm?”

“Maaaa!”

“What do you mean, little one?”

“Mama!”

Grelle’s whole world stopped right there when that word escaped the young one’s lips. Mama. Why did that simple word made her heart skip a bit and why did her eyes were becoming watery.

“W-what did you just say, tiny one? Can you repeat it?” She put the small baby to her face, looking at them hopefully it was what she thought they say.

“Mama, Mama, Mama!” The little one cupped her face and giggled, repeating it more times. Grelle’s shocked face slowly turned into a soft smiled, she was also shedding tears. Very joyful tears. She had always wanted to have a child of her own, that was her true life wish, for this one to quickly accept her as their mother with only seconds of meeting.

“Why yes, YES! I am your Mama!” Grelle squealed, letting the joyful tears flow more as she cuddled the precious bundle of joy that she had in her arms. Happy sobs all the way. She had found her opportunity to be the mother that she had wanted to be, there was no doubt. This baby was hers now.

“Do you have a name, mon petit?” Now she focused on the baby’s gender. How did humans check a child’s gender again? Ah, she remembered it now. She folded the blanket a bit and determined it now. “So a baby boy?” There was nothing in there that told the baby’s name, so Grelle decided to come up with a name.

“Wiru Gary Sutcliff. Sounds about right!” Giving the baby that name, she put him back in her arms and grabbed the blanket wrapping him comfortably in it. “Come, I gotta go back to my own realm, please keep quiet, dear one. I don’t want to get into trouble for taking a human where they’re not supposed to go.” she said softly, took her death-scythe and hopped out the window, with the baby and off she was to the reaper realm.

Could she really, really be able to care for a human child, despite never being in contact with one before? Grelle was simply the type of person to do things without thinking before doing them, of course she would take a baby human and claimed that it was her baby.

(Grim Reaper Dispatch, Reaper Realm)

“There we go, Wiru. Nice and quiet, don’t make a single peep. Mama’s gonna be in trouble if you make a sound.” Grelle whispered, putting the baby inside the closet behind her desk on blankets and rubbed the child’s cheek. “Be a good baby and nap for a bit okay? Okay.” she looked from side to side and closed the doors and quickly went to sit on the chair inside her own office.

“Grelle Sutcliff, did you complete the task?” that was William the superior coming inside, keeping his expressionless nature and pushing his glasses up to keep them from falling.

“Aww, Will, darling! Of course I did!” Grelle as usually responded to him like that, her eyes being hearts as they usually turned when seeing the guys that she found attractive.

William sighed, ignoring the darling comment, he’d gotten used to it by now. “Reports.”

“Murder of a married couple. Their baby was orphaned.” Grelle started, of course behind her mind was, the baby’s not orphaned now for she just took him in.

William nodded pleased, for once Grelle did something formal instead of doing things the way she wanted. “Well done, Sutcliff. I must tell I am impressed by your performance today, you didn’t screw anything up. So congrats on that, keep it up.” he was impressed by it, which was barely true, since Grelle tended to get a little driven by her emotions in work and that caused her to make messes in the process.

“Ahh baba da dee...” Little Wiru suddenly let out those meaningless babbles for a baby who didn’t know any better.

William furrowed his brows. “What was that?” he looked around.

Grelle panicked and then came up with something. “My stomach! I am hungry! It was so early in the morning, they just contacted me and I couldn’t get any mouthful inside!”

A stomach talking? Ah whatever, William wasn’t even going to question it, he had many other things to do than to pay attention to that. “Well, have you eaten your daily portion of carrots on the way to work?”

Grelle made a face. “Will, dear, you know that I can’t stand carrots, they’re disgusting!”

“Grelle Sutcliff that is not up for discussion, you will eat them everyday.” William said with irritation, it always the same with this reaper, she never wanted to eat what already was a requirement. He pulled out a plate with six carrots and put in front of Grelle. “Eat. I want to see you.”

“B-but-!” Before Grelle could protest, William picked a carrot with a fork and stuck it inside her mouth.

“Eat.” He wasn’t going to relent until he saw her eating them.

“Mph!” Grelle sputtered and shook her head, why did William always have to do this to her! But she having no choice, so all be it reluctantly she started chewing on it, making disgusted faces. Luckily for her, William got distracted by something some other reapers were saying out there and Grelle spit the carrot out to her bin and did the same with the other carrots, taking off the leaves of one and putting it inside her mouth.

“Well, now- Did you eat them all already?” William stared at the redhead, but he could see crumbs of carrots on her cheeks so he believed it. “Well, now it’s over. I’m off, continue writing those reports down.” He whirled and exited Grelle’s office, closing the door behind him.

“Yuck, disgusting carrots.” Grelle then walked over to the closet and retrieved the baby. “That was very close, Wiru. Please don’t do that when Will is here, it could give Mama a very serious trouble, my sweetie.” She couldn’t really yell at a baby, she knew that it made them cry and if she had the baby crying it all would get seriousness thrown at her, so she sat down, cradling Wiru in arms.

Wiru looked like he was about to cry, because he was whimpering. And Grelle really had a worried face.

“Don’t cry my little one, Mama’s here, Mama’s here.” She started to gently rocked the baby in her arms, making shushing sounds. Everything she knew about babies was from the scratch as she had never been with one before, she was improvising all her actions. “Shhh, shhh.”

The baby was hungry, he hadn’t eaten anything from when his parents were murdered. Grelle couldn’t tell, but she figured it was hunger.

“Hungry? What do you human babies even eat?” She knew if they didn’t have their teeth yet, they couldn’t eat solids, it all had to be mushed and given to them. “Milk? I just have one milk box here.” Grelle pulled it out. But she didn’t have what was needed to feed babies. A baby bottle. She had to improvise, make something similar to it. So she pour it inside a normal glass and put a straw in it, gently getting the straw inside the little baby’s mouth, hoping he knew how to suck because then she’d have trouble feeding this little one.

Gladly, Wiru began sucking the milk and then drinking it, so Grelle was aleviated from this. She sighed in relief. Well maybe, raising a human baby in secret wouldn’t be much trouble.

#fanfiction #writng #mother grelle headcanon #black butler #kuroshitsuji #Grelle Sutcliff #oc #chapter one

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adrieunor · 3 years

Text

the one where they’re married (1/?)

Fandom: The Good Place Rating: T Pairing: Michael & Eleanor Shellstrop (pseudo-Michael/Eleanor)

amnesia, married-but-not, possibly dub-con bc identity issues but nothing explicit; implied Michael reboot or judge reboot Notes: found this thing hanging out in my WIP and I don’t even remember writing it. but I had fun reading through what’s here, so I thought I’d go ahead and throw it out into the world.

Story summary: It didn’t quite top the discovery of waking up in a hospital bed with potential brain damage, but Eleanor is quite sure of one thing. She’s willing to stake money on it, no matter how out of character or divergent he is from her history:

this man is her husband.

Which, great – wow, whoa and every other questionable w-sound.

Hadn’t thought you had it in you girl, Eleanor thinks.

******************

Eleanor wakes up.

Correction: Eleanor tries.

One moment, it’s the nothingness of unconsciousness and then the sudden clarity of what’s happening? Where am I?— except her body feels like it hasn’t caught up to this decision.

She feels heavy.

All of her feels heavy. From the bottom of her feet to the crown of her head, it feels like every atom of her person has suddenly gained ten extra ounces of new weight. Not enough to be a hardship, individually, but combined together—she’s drowning, suffocated by her own eyelids and the thick, still air that doesn’t give any hint to where she seems to be.

Her eyes feel heavy – the stupid gelatinous orbs feel like they’re suspended in concrete, while her lids struggle to flutter awake.

(It’s a stupid expression, anyway, because it’s more hippos doing ballet than graceful ostriches with large feathered fans prancing across the imaginary stage of her mind.)

Fuck.

It hurts.

It feels good to be able to give a resounding f-bomb in her mind. She doesn’t know why it feels good, just that it does—it shouldn’t, though, since Eleanor has been saying fuck and other double-dog-dare-you words since she was in secondhand velcro shoes. She says “fuck” more times on the daily than her own name, certainly more times than “please” or “thank you.”

Ten seconds of consciousness has her registering how rattled her bones feel. Someone has either taken her brain and expanded it to be too big for her skull, or taken her skull and fractured it, hot gluing the pieces back to fit her brain but accidentally leaving a few behind.

“Eleanor? Are you awake?”

Trying to be.

Even in her mind, the words she wants to respond with feel slurred, fumbled by a dull tongue that’s trying to unstick from the roof of her mouth.

She’s not sure if the keening sound is just bubbling frustration and pain she’s creating in her head, or if she’s really making it. Eleanor wants to open her mouth and let her sad, animal crying out, but it seems, between the last time she was awake and now, someone’s affixed her jaw with lead, super glue, and the caramel they use to cover those cheap, green apple pops.

Eleanor settles for a whimper.

It’s the trembling of her bottom lip that makes her realize something’s brushing against her face, threaded across her nose and mouth and affixed by sticky tape on her cheeks.

Dry fingertips, warm and calloused, brush over her temple. The stray, lanky hair that had been plastered to her forehead, tickling her brow and her nose, is brushed back and tucked behind her ears.

“Hold on,” the same person says, and something clicks or beeps beside her ear. She hadn’t thought of her wrists and hands yet, had only registered them being as weighed down as the rest of her. Now, she’s minutely aware of the tender clasp around her left wrist – a dry, warm steadiness that makes her joints ache painfully.

Eleanor wants to wiggle, wants to shake, wants to fucking jerk her arms and legs about until everything pops back into feeling, but she can’t. Something from inside must be conveyed outside, some twitch or snarl of frustration, because the warm hand gently turns her wrist. Unfamiliar (familiar) fingers slide and brush against her pulse before settling into a new position: her own hand cradled in a larger one, while a thumb that’s not hers gently strokes the tops of her knuckles.

The next sound feels like a land mine detonated in a pocket of silence. A heavy door opens with the force of five hundred hangovers, followed by heels clicking sharply and smartly against a linoleum floor. Rustling fabric, a pen clicking, a folder being dropped down onto a table surface all has her wincing, as if it’s been amplified right by her fucking ear.

Her companion does not let go of her hand, but he grips it until his thumb is a firm, anxious pressure that presses on the space between her ring finger and pinky.

“Is she in pain? She looks—“

Eleanor doesn’t catch the rest of it, but the voice has only picked up in volume, a little, harried but direct. Whatever answer the new body has, she doesn't hear it.

Amidst the skull-splitting pain that pulsates from her crown down to the rest of her, like a tree suddenly struck by lighting, she registers only one thing: a dry press of lips against her fingers, solemn and unbearably present sensation, before she’s swarmed by other voices and sounds.

******************

Eleanor is only catching every fifth word that is coming out of the woman’s mouth. The ice chips had alleviated the fuzziness on her tongue, but it hadn’t fixed what was wrong in her head.

Her head.

Words like damage, injury, sustained bleeding,

The wailing in her ears had subsided, a bit, since the last time she was awake. It was now a low, thrumming pitch in the back of her mind, like a loud fluorescent light bulb in an office space. She can ignore it, after a while, but it’s there.

Other things that are very much there and present: the man.

******************

Her eyes drift towards his hand, the one that’s not holding her own – long fingers woven loosely to catch her own, between the gauze and IV line – where it rests on his knee. She's not sure what the glimmer is, at first, until she realizes it's two gold bands on one hand, a comically smaller one slipped onto his pinky.

“Ah,” her eyes drift back up of their own accord to watch the way his brows furrow, mouth open in thought, “I thought it’d be better if I kept it, in case the tests and the machines…”

His mouth purses into a thin line, which only emphasizes the ones carved into the corners of his mouth and his eyes even more – he looks like the type that would frown a lot, Eleanor thinks. He seemed like the bookish-type that would have resting bitch face while deep in thought; a heavy oak desk with a tiffany lamp and a pen tipped in gold wouldn’t be out of place in a room with him, or a really fancy fucking wall of degrees and a sharp suit.

Her shameless eyes stray towards his thin lips, the defined line of his jaw, skipping back to the worn crinkles in his skin.

There’s a lot of something to him that seems to command the presence of whatever space he occupies. The corner he occupies wraps around him like a well-tailored jacket – even in his unassuming navy and pale blue.

Well, she revises her thoughts; he looked like he might laugh a lot, too. Eleanor bets he laughs with his mouth wide open, or smiles to show nearly all his teeth.

He wasn’t laughing now, of course. Given the circumstances.

******************

He is a man-shaped absence in her memory – she of the forgetful faces and even more forgetful names has seemingly forgotten her own husband, spouse, and partner-- legally bound tax accomplice, all of the above. Michael.

He’s got a face made for

He does a funny

Oh.

It didn’t quite top the discovery of waking up in a hospital bed with potential brain damage, but Eleanor is quite sure of one thing. She’s willing to stake money on it, no matter how out of character or divergent he is from her history:

this man is her husband.

Which, great – wow, whoa and every other questionable w-sound.

Hadn’t thought you had it in you girl, Eleanor thinks. She takes another second, ten, fifteen, a minute, to look appreciatively up and down.

******************

She’s not sure if the muscles in her face contort into the expression of surprise like the light bulb that’s gone off in her head – her jaw is still a little slack and her eyes are slow to blink. He might not have noticed, in between one second and the next, how utterly thrown off she is.

******************

It doesn’t look like a fake; Eleanor has seen a lot of fake gold jewelry in her time to know the difference. It’s beautiful in the way that all the ostentatious rings she would pick for herself would not be. She keeps turning her hand this way and that, until one of the nurses asks if she's having wrist pain.

Despite protests, a tall nurse with too much arm hair pushes her in a wheelchair towards the curb where a burgundy crossover idles.

“Hopefully we won’t see you too soon,” Gary, Gerry, Gerald – or whatever – his name is, says cheerfully. She squints up at him, and he falters. Eleanor supposes that one good thing about being brain damaged was she now had a legitimate reason to forget people’s names.

******************

The good news: if she had woken up too brain damaged to remember her own name, Michael would have fixed that problem easily—it would have been two minutes, tops. She’s pretty sure he says her name more than he uses any other noun or pronoun.

(Which, by the way, the fact that she still has a basic grasp of grammar makes her, again, want to keep track for curiosity’s sake what her loopy brain has decided to keep and discard. She’d stared at the red plastic dome on her hospital plate before, after a pronounced beat, Michael had reached across and pulled the foil top off of her gelatin.)

******************

It just sounds funny – something in her brain itches like a scab underneath a cast, present but unreachable. The way he says her name. It’s been her name for over three decades, so she knows what Eleanor sounds like, usually, coming out of other people’s mouths (when they’re coming, even!). Even knows what it sounds like sung in different accents, thanks to that fucking song.

(All the lonely people, where do they all belong?

Fuck. Her brain couldn’t have erased that?)

******************

It’s not the porch that surprises her; it’s the honest-to-god porch swing, pale wicker and decorated with springtime cushions. That throws her for a loop; breaks a little part of her brain that isn’t already struggling to function.

(“This…. This broke me.”)

(Something tickles her brain, there, too, but it’s gone.)

It’s a good porch, too. The kind that doesn’t fully wrap around the house, but gives enough room for someone to day drink and – ah, there it is, the little tea table that would be beside the—the ___________. She grasps for the word, shapeless and vague. It’s blurry in her head, the thing she’s thinking about also blurry and distant. Her mouth puckers in a frown.

Michael rolls the car to a commercial perfect stop. Eleanor still jerks in her seat. He unbuckles his seat belt and bounds around to her side, opening the door before she’s even lifted a hand to pop it.

“Here, let me-“

She wonders how often she’s let him do anything, in contrast to allowing him to – her hand moves to rest on the release of the seat belt, staking territory.

Her stomach does one, two, slow flops – a fat pancake turned by an amateur line cook.

******************

She doesn’t need an entire love story’s memory to make an easy conclusion, not when Michael’s eyes sweep across her face with a slow, longing softness while his mouth twitches, again, as if it has something to say he won’t let it:

Michael is in love with her.

Eleanor thinks this should be a good thing, if they’re married, but the conclusion settles uncomfortably on top of her chest – it doesn’t sink in, doesn’t settle into a slot of rightness, and she ignores the feeling of disappointment.

Stupid of her, honestly, to think this observation was all it would take to remember why Michael is in love with her. Or how Michael is in love with her.

(What Michael is in love with.)

******************

They have a cat. She doesn’t know why this is something that trips her up, but it does. She’d nearly tripped up on it, literally, when the thing had slunk up to rub itself against her legs, making figure eights around her legs and Michael’s. Michael had nearly stepped on its tail, foot stopping just before contact as if compelled by muscle memory or a glitch in the system.

“Oh,” he hisses, fumbling with the duffel bag, complementary hospital pillow (the socks she’d decided to “wear out” as she’d joked at the nurse, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth), and reusable water bottles, in his arms, “Vicky, stop.”

“Vicky?”

She hopes she hadn't been the one to name it. Vicky sounds like a bitchy girl name, and in Eleanor Shellstrop's book of past experiences she could confirm this. Twice.

Michael gives up on trying to carry everything into …wherever, instead dumping his load onto the love seat in an adjourning room.

Her fingers trail along the table in the entryway, eyes flickering up to give the large, round mirror at eye-level a glance before she’s turning away. She’s pale as a ghost in this strange grey-blue home.

There’s a kitchen island with real, actual stools that swivel plus a wooden dining table with upholstered chairs. She wants to hiss at how excessive it is – eating a bowl of cereal over a dirty sink was enough for her for years – but she bites her tongue. A voice in the back of her head asks if maybe she had picked some of these, had selected them herself. You don’t build a home for two from only one person’s purchases.

“What would you like first, Eleanor?” His expression is hopefulness strained through a sieve. He doesn’t seem to realize how he leans towards her, curves his entire, tall being to look down at her. “Anything you want, just- just let me know. If you’re hungry, I could fix us a snack before you’re due for your next round of meds.”

It should feel annoying and towering, claustrophobic, but instead, looking upwards at him, she feels watched. Seen. It’s an uncomfortable feeling for someone who has always depended on being able to grift just under the radar, but it also isn’t unpleasant.

His hands are pressed together, fingertips touching, long and lean, like prayer.

“Can I just lay down for a bit?”

Michael’s expression softens. “Of course, Eleanor.”

And he offers his hand, palm upturned, as if the hallway was some long, arduous passage instead of a short walk towards a few doors or a climb up the stairs. Eleanor’s hands are so small in his, but his fingers wrap around hers like old acquaintances—hers have forgotten the intricacies of where to go, his have not forgotten her shape and his thumb brushes, familiar, across her knuckles like hello.

It is a warm and dry hold, and what Eleanor has managed to scrape, glean, and covertly steal in her observations about Michael all lead to the conclusion that this is a good descriptor, the most basic, for Michael himself: warm and dry, like Arizona, but the postcard worthy-parts, not the dumpster fire, trash-bag parts that made her.

At the foot of the stairs he pauses, one hand on the rail, the other holding her hand lifted in the air like a debutante. Something flickers, for a moment, and Eleanor imagines a tall, dark woman in a gown and evening gloves, of all things, poised at the foot of the stairs as if to give a toast. She blinks and the image is gone.

“You know,” Michael says, looking up. His brows furrow. “Maybe we should use the guest room downstairs instead. Avoid the stairs.”

“No,” she says, surprising herself. “I want my room.”

******************

She gives the pillow a sniff, leaning down until her nose brushes against the cotton.

Yeah. That’s her. It smells like the scent of her hair, a little to the left of unwashed and greasy. Faint, but there.

There’s stray, blonde strands of hair that curl, pale and almost invisible, in the space where the pillow had been just before—like sunny, thin worms caught only in a certain slant of light.

Eleanor is playing excavation isn’t she? She is rooting around, examining and putting together all these clues left behind for a relationship, a love; building some semblance of understanding for the ghost of a woman—is she an anthropologist? Or is this a forensic-type investigation?

Is Eleanor Shellstrop dead?

She’s here but not here—the pictures and the gold band around her finger tell her these are her memories but they’re not. Her dumb lizard brain hasn’t ______ it out yet.

Oh. Another word that’s fallen through her fingers before she’s even remembered it.

It feels wrong to roll around, smell, and sleep in someone else’s marriage bed—it’s not the first time she’s done it, but it’s never been her bed.

What other intimacies can she find just sitting in the small-person-shaped dip of this bed? She doesn’t think about the dead flakes or skin, but she breaths deeply and her body nearly lurches into that place between awake and sleep—the familiar smell of bed that can only belong to ones own so strong.

The pillows on this side are fat and soft, just the way she likes them. She knows her head would sink into an orgy of clouds if she were to flop down now. It is tempting to do exactly what she had told Michael she wanted to do.

Eleanor resists—there’s another side to explore, still.

******************

It is during one of these days, where she rolls around on the bed (their bed) like a dog left unsupervised in an empty home, that a thought strikes her. It strikes her so suddenly and with a force that she has to press the palm of her hand to her temple, eyes wincing—

Dummy.

What’s under the bed?

She’d been thorough examining the faint layers of dust coating boxes and folds of laundry on the higher shelves, where someone like Michael would keep his things, that she hadn’t thought to drop below to see where someone like her—past Eleanor, GSTGSD-Eleanor, might have hidden and holed away her own treasure.

The only thing she finds, disappointingly, is a shoe caddy with shoes as big as her head, some dust bunnies, and a laptop still charging.

******************

Vicky the cat goes downstairs into the basement on a daily basis, almost always for half an hour to one, and cries for attention. It’s a bizarre, attention-seeking, and almost resentful performance and, despite being dead ass annoying, Eleanor can relate. What a mood, right?

******************

Forgotten your password? She clicks it.

The prompt doesn’t help at all: you know it, bitch!!

What? Why would she do that to herself? Except, that is so on brand for her and Eleanor hates, hates, hates Eleanor (herself) and loves Eleanor (herself) and hates Eleanor (herself).

She scowls, flexing her fingers. Vicky takes this opportunity to leap into her lap, tail high and crooked for attention, with her unabashed asshole right in Eleanor’s face.

fuckyou! She types, exasperated; before clicking enter, she scowls and adds an extra exclamation mark for good measure—using two exclamations is just enough to push something over the edge, enough to look off balanced, but three would be too much. She wants to send the right amount of recalcitrant bastard to her past self. And if she’s only got one log-in attempt before the laptop bricks, then, fine. Fuck you, GSTGSD Eleanor Shellstrop.

The little ball whirrs for a moment, before the screen flickers, the desktop loading in seconds.

******************

end thoughts: haha okay so I haven’t watched TGP for a hot minute, not since that finale broke me. but I legit don’t recall what GSTGSD stands for (if that’s a show ref) so fuck, haha, help me out here past-adrie. if there’s interest in this I’ll continue it.

#The Good Place #The Good Place fic #hellstrop #eleanor shellstrop #Michael the good place #TGP #my fic

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assembledherethevolunteers · 4 years

Text

Right Where I Need To Be

A/N: Hello again! I’m sorry this took so long, I had 2 Secret Santa stories to write and then went out. But! This is the next songfic. This time it’s ‘Right Where I Need to Be’ by Gary Allen (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_78F4MvVZT4) with John! This is based on the song and one of my favorite Queen stories, so I hope you guys enjoy.

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader

Summary: You and John are stressed out and need a break.

Warnings: Smoking, fluff, cursing, implied sexy times (super subtle, but it’s there)

Taglist: @queenlover05 @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @madamsledge

John rested his forehead on the table for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

“…and then there’d be the guitar solo, obviously,” Brian finished matter-of-factly.

“There. Is. No. Guitar. Solo.” John told him through gritted teeth, his head still down on the table.

“Why no through? You still haven’t given me a good reason.”

John lifted his head, glaring at the guitarist. “Because it’s my bloody song and I don’t want one! I don’t insert bass solos in the shit you write, so why do you INSIST on putting guitar solos in every song we do?”

Brian, and the other two members of the band for that matter, stared at John.

“He’s just…” Freddie tried to begin.

“He’s just trying to throw ANOTHER guitar solo in a song that doesn’t need one.”

“Deaky,” Roger said gently.

John stood up abruptly, not listening as Roger continued. “I’m going out for a smoke,” he announced, sweeping out of the room.

“We should probably take a break.” John heard Freddie say to the remaining members of the group as he dug his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He got outside and realized that he’d left his lighter inside. He didn’t want to go back inside. He leaned against the wall of the studio, his unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, and closed his eyes.

“Mind if I join you?”

John opened one eye at the voice to see Roger. John just shrugged.

“Need a light?” Roger offered his lighter.

John took the lighter and lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply. Usually that helped a little bit with his agitation, but not today.

“Rog, let me ask you something,” John said as he handed the lighter back to Roger.

“Alright,” Roger replied, lighting his own cigarette.

“Do you ever get…tired of this?”

Roger squinted at John, clearly confused.

“The arguing? The whole,” John gestured vaguely with his cigarette hand. “Thing. We just argue, throw out an album, argue, tour, argue ON tour, don’t speak for a few weeks and then we’re right back at it.”

Roger was quiet for a few moments, puffing on his smoke. “Honestly? No, I’m not. I think that keeps us…I don’t know, current? We each have our own views and are willing to fight for them. What’s so wrong with that?”

“You just saw what’s wrong with that!” John sighed deeply. “I don’t know, maybe I just need a break from all this.”

“What do you mean ‘all this’? You don’t mean…?”

“Not forever,” John clarified. “Just…a little bit of time.”

Roger watched John, not saying anything.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Look, mate, just…try to get through this recording, yeah? Maybe we can talk about taking a bit of a longer break.”

John finished his cigarette and flicked it away. “Yeah, maybe,” he sighed and then looked at the studio doors. “Let’s just through this day.”

Meanwhile, you were at your desk, rifling through paperwork.

“Y/N,” your boss’ voice came through the intercom.

You had to hold back your eyeroll as you hit the button to respond. “Yes?”

“Could you come in here?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and then walked into his office. “What can I help you with?”

“Do you have those contracts yet?”

“No, like I told you earlier, they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Well that is entirely inconvenient. You should have thought of that before you sent them to that slow solicitor friend of yours.”

“You actually chose the solicitor this time, sir,” you gave him a tight smile.

“Don’t act smart,” he snapped at you. “Just call them and get it taken care of.”

You nodded and walked out of the office. You wanted to cry. You hated your job and wanted nothing more than to quit. But you couldn’t. You were making good money for a secretary and living in London wasn’t cheap.

At the end of the day, after getting yelled at three more times for things that were outside your control, you stopped by the store and got some wine for yourself. You had earned it, damn it.

You walked up the stairs to your flat, hoping that none of your neighbors came out because you were not in the mood for any discussion. You walked in and started to prepare dinner when you heard your phone ring.

“Y/N Y/L/N’s residence,” you sighed.

“Sounds like you had about a good of a day as I had.”

“John,” you breathed out. You didn’t even try to fight the smile that was coming onto your face.

“Hello, love,” John smiled into the phone too.

“How’s Munich?”

“The city is fantastic. It’s beautiful and rich in culture and the people are lovely.”

“That’s so good to hear. And how’s the recording going?”

John hesitated. He didn’t want to burden you with his problems. Especially since you’d heard him make these complaints before.

“Oh fine. Getting some things done.”

“Like arguing?” You knew that John was probably not telling you everything. He tried to hide how frustrated he often was with the recording process, but you could usually tell when things were getting difficult for him.

“Sometimes. Nothing too terrible. How was work for you?”

You tried to hold it together, you truly did, but hearing the voice of somebody that you loved asking you that made you break. The tears came to your eyes before you could fathom that they were there.

“Difficult. He’s such a bastard. I do everything he asks of and I do it properly and he still isn’t happy! I don’t know how to make it better!” You heard your voice getting higher as the tears started to fall.

“Oh, darling, sh sh,” John’s voice came through the phone, trying to soothe you. It broke his heart that you were hurting and he was so far away from you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No! It’s not your fault! I just…” you tried to slow your breathing. “I just want to quit so badly. I don’t want to work for him anymore but from what I’ve heard others aren’t much better and the pay is much worse, so what can I do?”

“You could move in with me and let me support you,” John offered quietly.

You closed your eyes. John had been suggesting that seemingly since the two of you started dating. The longer you had this job, the better it sounded. However, you couldn’t do that. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. You weren’t even living together yet. The two of you had talked about it, but nothing had actually come of it between your schedules. What would happen if he was paying for you and then the two of you broke up? What then? You didn’t want that kind of uncertainty.

“John, you know I can’t let you do that.”

“But you could.”

“Can we talk about something else?” You knew that if he kept asking you, you would eventually break down.

“What would you like to talk about?”

The two of you stayed on the phone while you made dinner. John told you more about Munich, the places he’d gone, the people he’d met. Listening to John made you feel better. It always did.

You laid down on the couch, the phone wedged between the arm and your ear, listening to John talk. It was comforting. You could listen to him speak for days on end.

“Are you still awake?” John whispered. He could tell that you were drifting in and out of the conversation.

“Barely,” you muttered back. Your eyes were closed and you’d caught yourself nodding off more than once.

“You should get some sleep, my love,” John kept his voice low so that it didn’t wake you up.

“Nooo,” you whined, half asleep. “I want to keep talking to you.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll call you around the same time.”

You whimpered, letting him know you heard him, but you didn’t want him to go.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you,” you responded before you gave in and let sleep take you for the night.

John listened to your breathing even out after about a minute. He put the phone back on the cradle and stared at it, almost hoping that you would call him back. He knew you wouldn’t. He knew that you were asleep, but he missed you. He hadn’t seen you in close to four months. He missed hearing your voice in person. He missed being able to hold you and kiss you and sleep next to you. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to get away from the nonsense of recording.

Maybe he could find a way to do both.

You heard a knock on your door. You weren’t sure what time it was. You weren’t sure if you were late for work or not. You sat up and blinked. You noticed that it was still dark outside, so you weren’t late for anything. You glanced at the clock on your wall. It was just past three AM.

A sense of terror gripped you.

Who on Earth would that be at three AM? Most of your friends would have just called. Your parents didn’t live close enough to stop by like that.

You looked through the peephole and gasped. You threw the door open and saw John standing there, with a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. You watched the smile on John’s face grow as he took you in.

“Hello, lovely,” John offered you the flowers. You took them from him and once you did, he put his hands on either side of your face and pulled you into a kiss.

You kissed him back and pulled him into your flat. Not a lot of talking happened after that.

“We should go somewhere,” John whispered in your ear hours later. You had your back pressed against his chest and he had his arms wrapped around you. He kissed behind your ear and then underneath it.

The sun was starting to rise and you could see the sky had a pinkish glow to it now.

“And just where do you suggest we go?”

“Some place warm, where we can just wear nothing all day, maybe some place near the ocean,” John had pressed a kiss to you after each description of where he wanted to go.

“Hm…sounds like you have a place in mind.”

“Well, we’ve always talked about Bali.”

“What about the band and your album?”

“It can wait. I need to be with you.”

The next day, you called in for vacation (which sent your boss into a tirade) and then you and John were on a plane to Bali. Once you arrived, the two of you made your way to a villa that was right on the beach.

“John,” you gasped at the view from the bedroom. “You didn’t have to do this for us.”

John walked up behind you and snaked one arm around your shoulders and one around your waist, pulling him towards you. John never felt better than when he was holding you.

“Yes, I did. We both needed this.”

The next week, you and John spent on the beach. You fell asleep in each other’s arms and woke up even closer. You talked under the stars in the sand. It made you wish that the two of you could just stay there forever.

One of the last nights that you were there, you and John went for a walk along the beach.

“Y/N, thank you for coming with me,” John brought your intertwined hands to his lips.

You giggled, tipsy on the wine you’d drunk at dinner. “Thank you for inviting me. You could’ve just come here by yourself.”

“I could have, but I wouldn’t have enjoyed myself nearly as much. I needed you here with me. I…I need you with me all the time, if I’m being honest,” John’s voice had started to trail off. He cleared his throat to cover up the nerves that had started. He pulled you both to a stop.

You looked at John and raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

“Well, I…I hope I will be.”

You turned to completely face him and you noticed how nervous he looked. His face was red, and you’d thought that it was because of the heat but now you were thinking it was anxiety.

“John, what are you…?”

John grabbed your other hand so that he was holding both of your hands and he kept his eyes on them.

“I…Y/N, I think…I’ve been thinking about this…well, since the day we met if I’m being honest,” John chuckled slightly and then looked up at you. “And we’ve only gotten better since then.”

You beamed at him. “I think so, too.”

“And I think we’ll continue to get better, don’t you?”

You nodded and felt tears because you were pretty sure that you knew what was happening.

“And I…if you’d let me…I would love to be a part of your life for the rest of it,” John cringed. He knew what he’d meant, but it hadn’t come out right. “That sounded much better in my head.”

You slid your hands up to John’s cheeks and gently pulled him closer so you could give him a chaste kiss.

John smiled into it. Happy that you, once again, understood him better than anybody. He rested his forehead to yours, his smile growing. “So? Is that a ‘yes’?”

“You technically haven’t asked me a question. Sometimes I just like kissing you,” you teased him.

John pulled back a bit so that he could drop to one knee in the sand. He pulled out a small box from one of the pockets of his shorts and opened it, presenting you with the ring. It was gorgeous and simple. Exactly what you wanted for your ring.

The tears had started to fall for both of you.

“Y/N, I’ve never been as happy as I am with you. You make me forget everything bad happening, no matter what’s going on and I…” John struggled to find the words that he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you and how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Spend the rest of his life making you happy. Everything that came to mind just didn’t seem to do it justice.

“John,” you told him gently. “Just ask me.”

John cleared his throat and smiled up at you. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!”

John slid the ring on your finger and jumped to his feet, pulling you close to him, and pressing his lips to yours. Everything fell into place at that point. The fighting with the band, the fighting with your boss, the stress of everything that had been going on, none of it mattered. John had you in his arms and your entire lives for you to be there.

#John Deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #john deacon imagine #john deacon fanfic #john deacon fluff #queen #queen fanfiction #joe mazzello #joe mazzello!john deacon #bohemian rhapsody #bo rhap #krissys writings

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samsexualdeancurious · 3 years

Text

Every Dark Night (Turns Into Day)

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Words: 1,022

Summary: The reader has a fear and a good boyfriend.

Warnings: Astraphobia

Written for Marisa's July 2020 prompt.

Title from "Every Storm (Runs Out of Rain)" by Gary Allen

---

You’ve always been afraid of thunderstorms. Ever since you were little, crawling into bed between your parents because the loud rolls of thunder were just too much for you to handle on your own. Even now, as an adult, the low rumbles send bolts of fear up your spin and make you shake uncontrollably.

Tonight’s storm is particularly brutal. The walls of your little beach house rock with each gust of wind. Rain streams down the windows, blocking your view of the shoreline and crashing waves. You’re curled on the couch with a heavy blanket pulled up to your chin and a soothing candle burning on the coffee table - though the scent isn’t really doing its job and neither is the blanket.

Thunder rolls and a whimper escapes your throat before you can stop it.

Where the fuck is Thor?

As if on cue, the front door opens and the sounds of the ocean and storm rush through your small house before the door is closed once more.

“Y/N?” a deep voice calls, accompanied by the thud of Thor’s boots being kicked off onto the rug.

Relief floods your body and you twist to look down the hall to where he’s hanging his coat and hat on a hook. He smiles when he sees you and you feel the knot of tension in your chest loosen even further.

How you ended up dating the literal God of Thunder, you’ll never understand, but you don’t mind. Not when he settled onto the couch beside you, wraps strong arms around your shoulders, and rests his cheek on top of your head.

“The storm can’t hurt you, elska,” he murmurs as wind whips around the house and rattles the windows.

“Can’t you make it stop?” you ask, nuzzling into the collar of his t-shirt. He looks good in his armor but you love him like this - dressed down in a shirt and jeans, socked feet on the hardwood floor of the living room. Normally you would show more appreciation for how good he looks but not tonight with Mother Nature raising hell outside your windows. You knew living on the beach would probably mean rougher storms but this one, in particular, is getting to you.

“Sorry,” Thor says with a small shake of his head. “Nature needs to run her course. I can’t stop every storm just for you, though I would if I could.”

You sigh and then flinch as a particularly loud thunderclap seems to shake the whole house. “I know.”

He rubs one broad hand up the curve of your spine as silence settles around you, broken only by the patter of rain on the roof and the distant crashing of the waves.

“Y/N,” he says finally. “Come to bed.”

You give a small nod and Thor kisses your forehead. He leans over to blow out your candle, waving away the little tendrils of smoke that results from doing so, and then stands. You smile when he offers one hand to you, bowing a little like a gentleman at a ball. His hand is huge around yours as he helps you to your feet and into his waiting arms. Thor holds you to his chest for a moment and you take the opportunity to breathe in his woody scent. It’s a smell far more soothing than that candle could ever be. Tony should bottle the way Thor smells and sell it. He’d make a killing.

“Come on,” Thor urges, gently nudging you in the right direction. You clutch your blanket to your chest and he picks up the other end so it doesn’t drag or trip you.

“Thanks,” you murmur, leaning into his side as he leads you on the short journey to your bedroom and the giant, very welcoming bed you honestly should have moved to earlier. You were a little paralyzed by fear, though, so you can forgive yourself for that. You’re here now and you have Thor with you, which makes things even better.

“Anything for minn kærr,” Thor replies. He drops his end of the blanket to pull back the covers on your bed and you happily crawl beneath them. “Do you want the curtains open or closed?”

One wall of your bedroom is floor to ceiling glass windows, which makes for stunning views most of the time - the evening view is your favorite by far - but now? The windows only serve to remind you exactly what’s going on outside the comfort of your bed. The world beyond the glass is colorless and uninviting - grey sand, angry grey ocean, and a grey sky filled with dark grey clouds. The windows rattle again with the wind and you shudder.

“Closed,” you answer, spreading the blanket from the couch out on top of the covers before pulling all of them up over your shoulders. “Then come here?”

“Of course.”

He draws both the thin satin curtains and the thicker blackout curtains closed. The sound of the rain is muffled by the thick fabric and you relax further into your bed with a sigh.

“Lights on or off?” Thor asks.

You reach over to flip on your bedside lamp. “Turn off the overhead one?”

He does that before walking around to the other side of the bed. You hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the rustle of jeans being shed and tossed into the hamper, and then the mattress dips as he joins you under the covers. You roll onto your side and he spoons up behind you, one arm pillowing your head and the other settling over your waist.

“How are you feeling?” His voice is a low rumble from his chest to your back as he curls around your body.

“Better,” you whisper.

He hums softly, breath warm on the back of your neck. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you for coming home.” You lace your fingers with his and draw his hand up to your chest. “I know you’re really busy.”

Thor kisses the little knob at the top of your spine. “I will always be here when you need me, minn elska.”

---

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#thor x reader #marvel #my writing

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