#which means i’m getting about three or four hours of sleep before work and never more

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

.

[miercoooles]

Leclerc! Sister and her brothers definitely have sweet sibling evenings which ends with all four passed out and Pascale sending the pictures to their partners who then cue at them.

ya know, I haven’t answered your last ask because i’m procrastinating it, so I’ll give you this one

When you and your brothers were growing up, Pascale made sure to make it a habit that you have a family day every week. Meaning no matter how busy you are, whether it be school or work, you have to make a free time and spend it with the rest of the family. And let’s just say Pascale was successful in keeping that habit alive now that you are all adults.

It was early Tuesday morning when you, Charles, and Arthur arrived home in Monaco for a break since the race tired all of you out. Your significant other (any driver) couldn’t accompany you because he was needed back in their headquarters while Charles’ gf had her own errand. You quietly entered your home as you knew your mum and Lorenzo were sleeping. You kissed your younger brothers good night before retiring to your own bedroom.

Sighing softly as you closed your door, you leaned against it, taking soft and steady breaths as you knew what was gonna happen today. You loved family days, it was everything. You and your siblings bonding, chatting, spilling teas, even arguing about everything while Maman just watched is everything. But sometimes life could drain you especially when you had an awful race week. So freshening yourself up, you slid under the comfort of your duvet and snuggling on your pillow as you slowly drifted to slumber.

A few hours after, you were awakened by shouting and arguing downstairs which signalled you to get up already. You grumbled to yourself about your sleeping getting cut short before preparing yourself then heading out downstairs. Dragging your legs to the kitchen, you were greeted by Lorenzo and Charles fighting what they should make the four of you for breakfast, and being to tired to join them, you pushed past them and started cooking, doing it yourself.

The two started protesting until you raised one hand while the other cracked eggs into the pan. They both shut up and you mentally sighed in relief as you instructed them to fix the dining table and wake up Maman and Arthur. Both of them being to scared to argue, followed immediately.

Even though Lorenzo is the eldest out of the four of you, he was terrified of you, and you had never found out why. But honestly, it was funny to your side, watching your supposedly other brother scrambling and scared of you whenever you’re pissed or not in the mood.

Finishing what you were cooking, you served them on the dining table right on time as Maman and Arthur walked down the steps, Charles and Lorenzo following behavely behind them. Sitting down on your respective chairs with Pascale in the middle, you all said your prayers before digging in on your food. The first to speak up was Arthur complimenting your cooking while the two others stayed quiet.

Maman noticing something was up, she immediately brought it up and you started explaining what happened so early in the morning. Pascale only sighed, wondering to herself why the four of you always gets into a fight with each other when you all grew close and sweet to one another.

Maman stood up as she finished her food before announcing that she was going out. The four of you looked at her in disbelief before raising your concern how it was suppose to be family day today and that she should be here. But she was having none of it, shutting all of you down before going upstairs.

Completely shunned, you leaned on your backseat, your shoulders sagging, your three brothers doing completely the same clearly disappointed. All of you stayed in the same spot, not moving one inch as Maman bid you good bye, shutting the door behind her.

Minutes passed and none of you did anything as silence filled the whole house, until you felt your stomach grumble. So you sat back up and finished your meal before putting your plate in the sink and going to the living room, shouting behind you that the last one to finish their food will be the one responsible for washing all the plates and utensils used.

As soon as you finished what you were saying, you heard spoons and forks clinking with each other as the three started competing with each other other. Laughing to yourself, you reminded them to slow down and chew their food properly as you sat comfortably on the couch.

The two that came out of the dining room was Arthur and Lorenzo, meaning that the one left in the other room complaining was none other than your fellow middle sibling, Charles. You laughed to yourself as you switched the telly on while Arthur sat to your left and Lorenzo on the solo sofa. So when Charles finished his chore, he sat to your right, making you sandwiched between your two younger siblings.

Finally choosing something to watch, the four of you sat in silence as you focused on the film, sometimes making comments and starting a discussion about the movie. After the movie, the four of you decided to play the simulator competing with one another. You decided to call each other as you were in your respective rooms, playing on your own different set up. As you all played against each other, you accidentally hit Arthur’s rear and he got pissed that both of you started a discourse that heated up.

You and Arthur rarely had fights, but when you both did get into one, it was the worst that could happen. A lot of different things can be brought up when you both fought, so before it escalated, Lorenzo and Charles dropped their games and headed to each of your room, stopping both of you from talking.

Hours has passed by and it was almost sun down when you and Arthur calmed down and made peace with one another. That was when Lorenzo suggested, you all go to your secret hideout where all of you watched the sun as it set when you were younger.

Agreeing almost immediately, the four of you hiked for a while as you reached your secret spot. It was a small, abandoned building that was built in an elevated part of the country, high enough to look over the ocean. When you reached the highest floor, the four of you sat on the edge of the structure, you in the middle of Charles and Arthur again, while Lorenzo sat beside Arthur.

As the sun began meeting the ocean, you leaned on your head on Charles’ shoulder, reaching out for his hand and squeezing it in a sisterly, assuring kinda way. Charles gave you a soft smile as both of you had a silent connection being the middle child and all.

While watching the view, you all started talking about memories you all cherished, laughing and teasing one another as cringe memories were brought up. And when the sun finally disappeared against the horizon and the moon came out to brighten the dark sky, the four of you lie down on the roof, pointing at the stars and still reminiscing about your life as kids.

Lorenzo realising how late it was and how the three of you still have flights the next day, decided to wrap it up. You, Charles, and Arthur wanted to protest but you understood that your older brother, so you all followed him.

Arriving home, you immediately went straight to your bedroom and hopping on your bed as you quickly started dozing off. But it was shortly disturbed when Charles jumped on your bed too, followed by Arthur and Lorenzo. When you started whining about not having personal space, the three squeezed you more between the three of them.

When you figured out that you were not gonna have any space, you stayed quiet, enjoying the presence of your brothers as they huddled and provided you warmth. Slowly dozing to sleep, you whispered good night to your brothers. The three of them hearing your words made them smile as they said it back to you, kissing your cheeks before going to sleep too.

When Pascale came home and noticed the house was too quiet for her own liking, she started becoming suspicious like what if you all already dueled to death. So she immediately rushed in the house, but seeing it empty and dark and not covered in blood, it didn’t relieve her. So she went up the stairs and saw the Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur’s room was empty, and she started worrying. But when she heard soft snores in your room, her chest started to loosen up as she realised what was happening.

Opening the doors softly, she was greeted by her children all sleeping snuggly, cuddling with one another. More like squeezing each other. Lorenzo slept at the edge of the bed, and Charles on the other side, while you were in the middle of them, and Arthur diagonally placed on top of all three of you. Pascale smiled to herself, thinking how her plan was a success.

Wanting to keep the memory, she took a snap of all of you, mentally taking note that she needs this printed out and framed. She kissed you and your brothers’ foreheads, fixing the blanket so it was covering all four of you, before turning off the lights.

But before she retired for the day, she opened her mobile phone and sent the photo on the groupchat she made with all of your significant others with a caption, “look at your Leclercs’ completely passed out.”

[f1goat]

mistake(s) x lando norris + part nine

In which you keep making the same mistake over and over again by fucking the boy you hate the most.

masterlist - playlist

part one part two part three part four part five part six

warnings: smut but with a plot, 18+ | english is not my first language fem!verstappen reader x lando norris

The door didn’t open that night. You don’t know if Lando didn’t hear you, wasn’t home, was sleeping or was ignoring you on purpose. You can only hope he didn’t ignore you on purpose, but you’re afraid he did. When he didn’t open the door for you the next times, you decided it was better to give up. It’s useless. You have contacted him every way you knew of, but it was no use. He didn’t open the door for you. He didn’t react to your messages on every social platform and he didn’t respond when you send him a letter. 

It’s done. He’s gone out of your life. 

And now you have to find a way to deal with it.

Last days you have spend all your time studying. Focussing still is hard, but you’re managing. Days are going slow and fast on the same time. Every day feels the same. You’re home or at school and in both cases you’re busy studying. Weeks are passing by. 

Graduation is coming closer and closer. You’re working even harder then ever to make sure you’ll pass. Your exams are all passed, but you still have to turn in a research paper. Some days you think you’ll manage, other days you think you’ll just fuck this up as well. That would be nothing new for you. 

“Y/N, start packing,” Max marches into your room while talking to you. Before you can even ask for what you need to be packing, he continues to talk. “I’m done with your self pity, you’re coming to the race weekend with me,” Max tells you. 

“No,” you reply quickly. No way that you’re going with him. What if you see Lando?

You don’t want to see him anymore. It’s almost a month ago since your fight with him. It’s been two weeks since you knew for sure it wouldn’t be fixed anymore. Max never told you, but even he couldn’t get Lando to come around. You follow enough gossip accounts to know about Lando his recent activities. Every night he seems to be out, every time he’s pictured with another girl. It’s always the same kind of photograph. Just a different kind of girl. But they are all beautiful enough to make you jealous. 

One time you asked Max about those girls. He didn’t tell you what Lando did with them. It told you enough. Lando’s back to his old ways. 

“Yes. I’ll drag you with me if I have to,” Max states, “I’m done with this awful self pity you and Lando both have. If you weren’t idiots like this, everything would have been fixed already. Match made in fucking heaven,” he continues to say annoyed.

+++

It only took you twenty minutes around the paddock to see him again. It’s Friday. Max dragged you with him to the paddock for today, after you spend the whole Thursday into your hotel room. First practice will start in a small hour. Everyone is around the paddock. You were already afraid that this would happen. You’re thankful that Max is next to you. Or better said, you’re thankful that you’re not alone with him. 

“Why did you told me to meet you here when you’re with her?” Lando asks angrily to your brother.

Max caused this meet up? You can’t even say you’re surprised. 

It hurts you that Lando doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t even say your name. In the mean time, you can’t stop looking at him. He looks bad. Or better said, he still is handsome but he looks tired and worn out. He has massive bags underneath his eyes. It looks like he didn’t sleep for weeks. Then you remember the pictures of him at all the night clubs. Who wouldn’t look like this when partying this much?

“You two have to talk,” Max simply states. He doesn’t seem impressed by the anger from his friend. 

Lando fake laughs. “We have talked,” he grunts, “and she made her choice.” 

Is he really acting like you aren’t standing right in front of him?

“I didn’t know,” you softly say. 

“You didn’t know what?” Lando asks you annoyed, “You didn’t know that it was more then sex for me? Maybe if you weren’t so fucking oblivious you would have noticed that I don’t have sex with the same girl more then once and that I don’t take girls on dates. And I certainly don’t organize dates for them.”

“Lan-"

“Don’t,” he interrupts you, “I don’t want to hear anything else from you. It was nothing more to you, so don’t start acting like it was.”

“It was more,” you try to tell him. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Lando replies angrily.

“I’m not!” You yell out annoyed. 

“If it was more for you, you wouldn’t have broken it off like you did,” Lando tells you. 

“I-”

“I never want to see you again,” Lando states after interrupting you again. 

His words make you mad. His whole behavior makes you mad. Yes, you have made a mistake. Yes, you were the one who fucked it up. But you have spend weeks to make it alright with him. You don’t think about your following actions. Lando tries to leave, but you grab his arm. He turns around to you, looking even more mad then before. 

“I tried to talk to you,” you state, “multiple times,” you add. 

“I don’t want to talk with you anymore,” Lando replies. He tries to undo himself from your grip. 

“Oh sorry, I forgot that you’re way better off without me. Must be great to party every night, to bring back home a new girl to fuck every night as well and walk around like some sort of zombie,” you tell him frustrated. 

“You don’t know anything about that,” Lando groans.

“Maybe I didn’t ruin anything for you after all. You seem to be more then fine with sex with other girls.”

“Shut up,” Lando grunts.

“And while you’re busy fucking them, I can’t even focus on my graduation paper. It’s safe to say you’re the one who ruined me.”

After those words you walk away. Lando walks away as well in the opposite direction. Max is still standing on the same place as before. This is even a bigger mess then he already thought. He doesn’t think about following either of you. He just walks towards the RedBull mother home and decides to stop intervening in this mess. 

+++

Lando can’t focus for the rest of the race weekend anymore. He can only think about you. Not that it’s new for him. His focus never shifts away from you. He tries to forget about you every night by clubbing, but he never manages. He tries to talk to as many girls that he can, only to find someone who can distract him of you. But no one can. He gets your words, but you don’t know anything about it. Of course he isn’t fucking with other girls, let alone a different girl every night. He can’t even think about sex with someone else. Instead he’s wanking every night while thinking about you. 

He has been a mess lately. He was so mad after you broke things off with him. Of course he has been mad at you, but he was also mad at himself. How could his own mind give him hope that you would like him back? He decided that it was better for him to don’t speak to you anymore. So he ignored everything you did. 

When he’s in the car on Sunday he can’t even focus on racing. He keeps thinking about his last conversation with you. Has he been to harsh? Maybe he has been a dick the last month. He read all of your messages, he heard it every time you were at his door, but he didn’t do shit. Fuck. You tried to fix things, but he didn’t gave you any chance. 

He’s not even surprised when he is braking way too late and spinning of the race track. 

That’s what you get for not focussing on racing.

He doesn’t even care about missing points. He can only think of you. Is there any way for him to fix things?

You are. You gasp when you see Lando spinning. It’s nothing for him to make mistakes like this. It doesn’t take long before he is off the track. You watch how Lando gets out of the car. Then you doubt about your options. Should you do something? You doubt about finding him, but when you think about it you’re pretty sure Lando doesn’t want to see you. 

But maybe he does want to fuck you? Maybe that would be a nice solution for a lot of problems. Let him fuck his frustrations out. Perhaps you can even talk like normal people after that.

Without thinking about it you start to walk to the McLaren motor home. What should you do? Last time you got in rather easily, but you don’t know how Lando will react when you’re standing in his driver room without any warning. You doubt about texting him, but that has probably no use since he doesn’t have his phone yet. You continue to walk. 

When you’re standing in front of the motor home a mechanic is quick to stand in front of you. You decide to use the same excuse as the last time. 

“Hey, I’m here for Lando,” you say, “He told me to wait in his driver room.”

“Nice try,” the mechanic tells you, “but Lando told everyone to not let anyone in his driver room anymore unless he told us before hand.”

You sigh and turn around. It has no use. You simply get back to the RedBull motorhome to continue to watch the race.

When Lando gets back to his motorhome later, his team asks him multiple questions. He notices the way Zac looks at him. How everyone looks at him. They think he’s fucking it up on purpose. It’s obvious. It’s one of the mechanics who finally starts about something else.

“I stopped a girl from getting in to your drivers room,” he tells Lando.

Lando doesn’t pay attention at first. It’s nothing new.

“But I think if you saw her, you would be sorry that I told her to leave,” the mechanic jokes.

“Was she that beautiful?” Someone else asks.

“That too, but I also believe she is the sister of Max Verstappen? I don’t know for sure,” the mechanic explains, “but she was really beautiful too.”

That got Lando his attention. 

“Was Y/N here?” He asks surprised. 

The mechanic nods. 

“And she wanted to get into my drivers room?”

“Yes, she told me that you said she could wait there for you.”

Fuck. Another missed opportunity. What does he need to do now? Lando sighs. Since when is everything so messy in his life? He regrets his earlier mean words to you. What if he was a bit more calm? Could you two have worked it out then?

+++

You haven’t seen Lando since that day. But today you don’t want to think about him anymore today. It’s the day you worked towards the most in years. You have graduated and today you’ll finally get your paper. 

“Ready?” Max asks you, you show him a small nod. Together you step inside his car. To your luck, the graduation isn’t happening during race week. Meaning that Max will be there with you. Max drives off. You can’t suppress a small smile. This is going to be your day. You deserve it. 

Lando is nervously sitting inside of his car. He checks his watch for the tenth time in a few minutes. He is early. He rolls the sleeves of his blouse a bit up. Was it already this hot in his car? He doubts about his plan, more because the lack off it, and decides to step out of his car. Lonely and uncomfortable he walks towards the big building in front of him. 

In all his years, he never stepped a foot in a University. He’s glad Max texted him a description of the route he should take. Otherwise he would be lost in a couple minutes probably. He thinks about his actions again. Is this the right thing to do? Max texted him about this a few weeks prior and since then Lando has been doubting about what to do. But, he’s here. 

A big part of him thinks it’s a bad idea. This is suppose to be your day and by being here he will make this about him as well. But he couldn’t miss it. In the months he was close with you, he saw your hard work. He wants to see how it pays off. He wants to be here for this important event in your life. 

He takes a seat when he arrives at the right place. He notices that family and students are walking in. He spots Max, who spots him quickly as well. Max walks towards him and takes place next to him. 

“You made the right decision,” Max says. 

Lando doesn’t look at his friend. He doesn’t want to miss any second of the sight of you. He starts to get afraid that he already missed you. 

“I hope so,” he tells Max.

He hasn’t seen you in a month. You didn’t came to the race weekends anymore. Max told him it wasn’t because of him, but that you were busy with graduating. That’s one of the reasons why he decided to leave you be. You were too busy for drama with him. It took him a lot of strength, but he didn’t contact you last month. 

Lando knows for sure he can’t miss the sight of you when you walk into the room. It’s impossible to miss the entrance of someone who looks like you. It’s absurd how beautiful you look. Lando almost feels like a dick when he can’t stop thinking about fucking you while you look like this. It’s unfair what you are doing to him. Not that he’s surprised that you’re still doing this to him. 

Proudly Lando watches the ceremony. He applauses for everyone who walks up the stage to get their diploma, but his most sincere applause is for you. He feels so proud of you. 

The ceremony is over and Lando is standing next to Max in a big room. There are some waiters going around with drinks, he notices that you took a couple. He doesn’t want to ruin your celebrations. Lando is sure that he will ruin your day when he shows you that he is here.

“You should say hi to her,” Max tells him. 

“I don’t know,” Lando sighs, “What if I ruin her day?”

“I think you’ll only make it better,” Max states.

Lando still doesn’t budge. He keeps standing in the same spot. The spot where he can look at you perfectly. He watches how you make small conversations with others from your study. He notices the way other boys look at you. Maybe he should just leave? There are more then enough others who will treat you way better probably. He discard that thought when he notices a familiar boy. Is that Joshua who you’re talking with? 

Something tells him that this is the moment to walk to you. But he also knows that the chance is there that he will cause a scene. Lando still decides to get closer to you. When he’s almost near you, he hears to words Joshua says. 

“Maybe we can try again?”

You whimper at the idiotic words Joshua just told you. “We can’t,” you simply state. You notice the look on Joshua his face getting more mad. He’s probably not used to hearing no, you think.

“Why not?” Joshua asks you, he is quick to add another question. “Is it because of that Lando guy? You can’t tell me you fell for him.” 

You let out a soft sigh. You did think about Lando during the ceremony. You wondered how it would be when the two of you didn’t ruin the things between you. Would he have come then? Would he be proud at you for graduating? You like to think so. 

“You know what Joshua,” you say harshly, “I did actually fell for him.”

Lando hears your words. It’s the first time he actually hears you say them. Max told him many times before, but he never wanted to believe him until you said it yourself. And now you’re even saying it to Joshua. 

“You’re an idiot.” Joshua laughs, “as if someone like him will fall for someone like you. Don’t you see Y/N? You’re opposites.” 

Lando doesn’t think about his next move. He slides his arm around your waist and pulls you close to himself. He shivers because of the contact he missed so much. 

“That’s why it works so well,” he then tells Joshua, “so fuck off mate.”

You look next to you. Is this actually happening? Lando doesn’t wait for you to reply, he takes you with him to a less crowded spot. He can only hope you’re not mad at him. You don’t know what to think. Since when is he here? How did he know about your graduation? What is he doing here? You haven’t heard from Lando in a month and now he’s suddenly at your graduation? 

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing you ask him when you’re finally alone with Lando.

“I uh,” Lando stutters a bit. He had thought about this multiple times, but what does he need to tell you? “I.. I.. Max told me about today and uh, I wanted to be here I guess.”

“You wanted to be at my graduation?” You ask surprised.

Lando nods. “I didn’t want to miss it. You worked so hard for this,” he tells you honestly. 

“I don’t get it,” you say confused, “We fought the last time, then I didn’t hear from you for a month and now you here?”

Lando understands your confusion. He has been acting weird. “I uh, Max told me how busy you were with graduating, I didn’t want to be a distraction.. So I thought I could better wait till after your graduation before contacting you again,” he explains eventually. 

“That’s stupid,” you sigh, “but also really sweet of you.” 

“You look beautiful,” Lando compliments you, “and you did amazing. Max told me about your grades, you’re so smart.” 

“Not smart enough apparently,” you joke lightly.

“What do you mean?” Lando asks a bit confused.

“I didn’t figure it out,” you explain, “I ruined things between us, because I thought you’d never like me back.” 

“Let’s talk later,” Lando tells you, “First we’re going to celebrate you. This is about your graduation.”

You smile. Without thinking about it you turn yourself closer to Lando. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his while doing so. You look at him. He looks better then the last time you saw him. Lando lifts up your chin a bit before pressing his lips against yours. You shiver from the feeling. You have missed this. 

Later that night Lando is taking you home with him. You’re sitting next to him in his car. Today was an absolute blessing, one you didn’t expect for the one tiniest bit. Who would have guessed that Lando would show up at your graduation? You certainly not. You feel happy about today, but you know that you still have to talk with Lando about everything that happened. 

You decide to start about the subject, how sooner it’s over how better. Tonight you want to enjoy your time with Lando without having to worry. 

“I’m sorry about how I stopped things between us,” you tell Lando, “I should have told you the truth instead of not giving you any reason.” 

“What was the reason?” Lando asks. His focus shifts to you. 

“I fell for you,” you confess, “and I didn’t believe that you were feeling the same.”

Lando laughs softly. “You’re really oblivious,” he tells you. That’s something you have heard a couple times before now. Max kept calling you that as well. 

“Do you actually believe that I don’t have any feelings for you?” Lando asks you. 

“I didn’t think so at the moment,” you confess.

“I can’t really call you dumb on your graduation day, but otherwise I would have said you’re a bit dumb,” Lando laughs. “How can you think I didn’t have any feelings for you? I changed for you. Maybe I didn’t show you enough, but I actually bettered myself only with the hopes you would give me a chance.”

Lando parks his car. Together you walk inside his home. You look at him. 

“You look better then the last time I saw you,” you tell him.

“I sleep a bit more,” Lando replies.

You think back about all the gossip about him and the other girls. You cringe. Maybe you should ask him about it? 

“No more partying?” You ask him.

“No,” Lando answers, “It didn’t even help.”

“With what?”

“Forgetting you,” Lando sighs, “I tried to forget about my feelings for you by getting drunk every night, but it didn’t do shit.”

“And the girls?” You ask bitterly.

“What girls?”

“The girls you fucked. A new one every night.”

Lando laughs. You start to feel irritated. 

“I didn’t fuck anyone,” Lando explains, “Every time one of them got to close, I would tell her to go. It annoys me when anyone else than you touches me. I didn’t tell you for nothing that you ruined it for me.”

“You didn’t fuck anyone else?” 

“Of course not.”

“Thank god,” you say relieved. 

“What about you?” Lando asks you. 

“As if,” you laugh, “I couldn’t even focus on my study let alone on someone else. You were the only one on my mind.”

“Be mine.”

You don’t know if it’s a question or a command, but you don’t care. There’s nothing else that you want as much as this. 

“I’m already yours,” you tell Lando. 

“And I’m yours,” Lando says back relieved.

“Make love to me?” 

Lando doesn’t verbally reply to your question. He pulls you closer to himself and presses his lips against yours. It doesn’t take long for you to end up upstairs in his bedroom. 

that's it everyone :) the end of this series ! i'm not sure about something new yet, but maybe it will come. thanks everyone for reading & interacting! ly

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red - Chapter II | 4k

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you’ll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won’t. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

✦ Chapter TW: slightly obsessive behavior hehe.., just a hint yet; mentions of trauma and violence

A/N: Dropping chapter two because I'm excited to start the real deal of this story! Also, chapter three might take a little while to come out cause I'm working on a request I received; hope y'all enjoy! If anyone's interested in getting into a tagslist just lemme know!

Chapter 02 - Survivor

The hospital room you were in was pleasantly cozy. A large bed in the center, a considerably large television right in front of it and the big window to the left, whose blinds were closed for the time being. There were a few empty chairs next to the bed - you were sure that at some point in the last hours, someone was sitting there, as there was a small vase of flowers resting on one of the chairs. Although you could not see the world out there, you knew it was raining by the sound of the raindrops hitting the window; the sound echoed through your ears in an almost hypnotic intonation as you dissociated.

Your daydreaming was abruptly cut off when someone opened the door to your room. A lady, a nurse, whose name tag said Doris. You shook your head and quickly looked in her direction, your eyes no longer as confusing as before, but equally expressive.

“You’re awake, finally.” She pointed, as she approached her bed with some caution. “You’ve been sleeping for at least fifteen hours since you came here. I was starting to worry,” she said, sounding somewhat caring.

You raised your eyebrows briefly.

“Fifteen hours? Fuck my life…” You whispered, and her face turned into a little grimace in response.

“Language, lady.” she joked, as her hands caringly wrapped your nearest arm and began to remove the tapes that covered your venous access. “How are you feeling?” She asked in a murmur. “I don’t expect you to say ‘well,’ for God’s sake.” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m not feeling any pain at least.” you said. For the first time in those twenty-four hours in which you were silent, your mouth bitter in the metallic taste of blood and the horrible feeling of a cake in your throat, you began to speak. There was still a lot you wish you could say, but felt like you might never get to do it. You could never take the weight you felt on your back, the unsaid words, the pain that grew restless in your mind.

“That 's good. Means the medication is working; you hurt yourself pretty bad let me say,” she commented, still trying to sound as caring as possible. The care that emanated from her made you feel a little better, you had to admit. “but you will be fine. Can you move your leg?” She finally asked, finishing by skillfully exchanging your access without causing further pain.

You looked into your legs, and felt that bitter taste invading your mouth again. Fuck. You didn’t stop to think about it: that wound on your leg, previously partially buried by concrete, was well, very extensive. 

After breathing deeply, you concentrated your energies into the hurt leg. Your face shrugged in a strenuous expression, you were giving your best; your leg began to tremble and the rest of your body too, by the effort. It was as if that concrete block was still there, preventing its movement, causing you to suffer in stuckness.

“It’s okay, you can stop now.” she said, but you were negative and shaken your head with all the strength you could, small tears forming on your red face as you tried to move.

“No. I can do it.” you grumbled between your teeths and closed your eyes.

“Dear, no-” she tried to say, but nothing seemed to be able to change your mind right now.

A little move was all you got, and then the relief. Your breath accelerated, exasperated and relieved by victory, but still concerned by the fact that all you could achieve was almost equivalent to a spasm. Doris sighed.

“Why can’t I move straight?” You asked, your eyes ran into hers with some despair and impatience. "Will I lose my leg’s movements? Will I need to amputate?” You asked anxiously.

“God, girl. No!” She assured you, striking with her head and placing a new tape on your arm. Doris then walked to the end of your bed. “No one will amputate anything. Just see, well,” she started, and pulled the blankets that covered you from the waist down. 

Your expression relaxed, perplexed as you looked at the scarring on your leg. Almost like a crack, in your thigh — it started near your hip, and went up to almost half your thigh in a diagonal angle. It was a red, ugly wound, a crack in your now imperfected shell. It was sewn with the help of so many stitches that you could barely count. “you hit a nerve. It didn’t break, of course, or could barely move this leg, but it hurt and badly. It will take some time for you to recover from it. But you will.” she said.

“It’s horrible,” you whispered, your eyebrows scratched in a sad expression. “I’m horrible.”

Doris looked at you, to the tears that formed in your tired eyes. Her lips were compressed in a line.

“Oh, dear... You’d never be awful, don’t say that,” she whispered. “A scar won’t make you any less beautiful. Got it? It’s your survival mark.” she said, trying to encourage you a little.

You wanted to curse her. You felt angry at the kindness she offered you, for trying to make everything seem less heavy than it really was, but it didn’t seem fair. You knew that this should be some reaction of your mind poisoned by the depression you felt now. 

It would not be fair to discount your frustrations on the only person who had offered you some comfort so far, would it?

No.

Your face formed a smile so weak that maybe it only made her more worried than she was already, but that was all you could do for now. Doris covered you again, fitting the blankets around your body in a very comfortable way.

“I’ll bring your lunch. You’ll need to eat enough to get some energy for your recovery now.” she commented quietly by changing the IV from the support over you. Your eyes followed the whole process attentively.

Although you were grateful for the treatment you were receiving from the hospital, there was only one thing surrounding your mind. The Ghost.

The man in the skull mask who had saved your life. He was nowhere to be seen, you knew that you might possibly never see him again, but the idea that you didn’t even have time to thank him correctly tormented your mind. He was in your dreams while you were unconscious, standing there looking at you, glaring at you with those dark eyes of his. The curiosity of what was hidden behind the mask was hitting you hard this time, the need to see something human in him; the way his eyes seemed to present him as nothing but a machine. He seemed unbeatable, but when he took you in his arms, gently as he could be, like he was holding porcelain - you could only see a human being. And you wanted to see it, you craved for confirmation, that there was a human beneath the mask and that this human was just the way you pictured him to be. Or perhaps the complete opposite. You liked surprises, and fairly - you just wanted to see him.

“Where are the soldiers? You know, those who took me out of the building.” You curiously asked, cleaning your throat. The nurse's eyes wandered around the room in search of the small window that turned out to the hallway, she could not see anyone there, a confirmation that they might have been there before but not anymore at the moment. “I didn’t have time to thank him.” you whispered.

“Ah yes. Of course. Captain Price said he would call you when you were feeling a little better. Do you want me to give  them a call?” Doris asked kindly.

“Yes, please,” you agreed.

━ ⟡ ━

Soap was watching the news on TV in the town hall of the headquarters. His eyes were attentive, his ears well opened; he heard the television reciting for the thirteenth time that day those words that echoed in his mind, "hundred and two dead." The news anchor was saying something about the intelligence’s inability to detect the terrorist threat before the bombing occurred. Massive criticism of the military staff responsible for national security; people were in panic. How would you feel safe after that?

After the 141 left the building back to the headquarters, the British intelligence team searched the ruins of the disaster looking for any indication of association of some terrorist group known to the incident. At first, nothing. Bombers usually leave no traces but a blast of blood and human flesh everywhere.

But then, an agent left the building with a piece of semi-destructed cloth in his hands. It was almost incomprehensible but soon they discovered a symbol in it. And to the most absolute disappointment of all, no soul even recognized the symbol in question. A new terrorist group.

Fuck.

While the population was hiding in fear, the press was rendering a disgrace to society and introducing even more chaos by spreading information that should be confidential. Soap was too distracted with their babbling to even listen to Price and Ghost’s conversation in the background. 

“She will need physiotherapy, and a good time to recover.” said the captain, releasing some smoke from his cigarette into the air. “She apparently suffered a nerve injury.” 

Ghost had his arms crossed, resting on the wall behind himself, facing Price. His eyes were fixed on the ground, as if he was thinking of something.

“I can imagine.” he whispered, with a head nod. “I hope it goes well. What these guys did there...” he closed his eyes and snorted, seeming nervous.

“Yeah... The press won’t give anyone no peace now. I get nervous just to think.” he grumbled as he threw his cigarette butt into the ashes. Ghost only shook his head negatively, in disapproval; in accordance with the captain’s speech. 

The silence that followed Price’s last words did not last more than five seconds before he spoke again.

“She asked about you.” he said, raising his eyes to Ghost. He was looking back at him this time. It was as if his words had caught his attention now. “Said she wanted to thank you personally.”

“She doesn’t need to. I just did my job.” he argued, pulling his back off  the wall and pulling one of the available chairs around. As he sat down, he grabbed a piece of a disassembled rifle that rested on the table, and went on with his work to clean it.

“I know that, but work sometimes involves accepting a bit of gratitude from other people for what you did for them, Riley. In this situation specifically.” Price raised his eyebrows, and watched the gun as Ghost cleaned it, his concentration quickly diverted from the conversation to the work he was doing. “You should go see her.”

“With all due respect, captain, I think the job of talking to the victims is anyone else's but mine.” he replied almost instantly.

“Maybe, maybe. But she wants to talk to you.” Price insisted.

Ghost released an annoyed, almost annoyed breath. 

“She doesn’t have to thank me. I know she’s grateful,” he tried to argue again, but the captain seemed irreducible for the moment. “Bloody hell, Price, hire a psychologist for once. She needs help, not to talk to me.” he continued, receiving nothing but silence in response.

“She wants you.” Price said, simply, unfazed by his upset behavior.

Ghost immediately stopped what he was doing and left the gun aside, the hand

supported on his knee, once again an uncomfortable breathing leaving his nostrils in a surely irritated mood now.

They would not understand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you; there would be no reason for it, no. Ghost didn’t want to see you again. He followed the whole moment the ambulance left you in the hospital along with the rest of his crew, was informed of your situation, and like all other soldiers, he was discharged after that.

His job was to rescue the victims who survived the attack. Not to talk to a victim, sketch some sort of feeling – even if it is false. He would need to say something, comfort you, or at least try to look positive. He would have to face the idea that getting in touch with your trauma could remind him some more of himself, could bring back past memories he wanted to bury. There was no good in it, no. He wasn’t a therapist, wasn’t built for it.

Although he wanted to, he couldn’t feel compassion for you. He couldn’t feel sorry – He thought it was an extremely illegitimating, invalid feeling. Affirming that someone was worthy of pity was almost like treating someone like garbage, no; he would rather die than have others pitying him, why would it be different with the people around him? He wasn’t the right person for that.

As if the universe laughed at his face, the moment the conversation between the two became silent and he raised his eyes to the television, the image of the building's debris was replaced by one of the only survivor of the attack; a recent photo you had taken in London, two months ago. You were smiling, you could still do that at that time. The screen displayed your name, while the reporter was now talking about you.

“It’s her; poor girl.” Soap said, turning a little to observe them, and turned up the volume. The news said something about your success in keeping yourself alive: you were treated as a great achievement, called a ‘miracle girl'; they were talking about you as a poor little girl, about how clever you were, in college studying to become a prestigious doctor. Ghost squeezed his jaw, his teeth gritted in a bitter taste inside his mouth. There was no miracle in what happened to you.

You were lucky. You were in the right place, at the right time. 

Two hundred people did not have the same luck.

A hundred and two people, men, women and children, were now dead. You had eternal marks engraved on your skin and soul. A miracle? He felt offended as if he were with himself — as if they were calling him a miracle for having survived all the painful events he had experienced so far.

“How dare they say this kind of thing?” he grumbled lowly. The other two shrugged their heads in denial, in disagreement.

“Fucking vultures.” it was Price’s turn to complain.

━ ⟡ ━

You had turned off the TV the moment you heard your own name. There was no reason you’d want to know, to to hear what they had to say about you. You didn’t want to hear them treat you as a mere victim of an incident, acting as if that disaster was all about you that mattered. You hated the way everything seemed to be reduced to that now: the attack.

The survivor. The only survivor. Your name didn’t matter anymore – you had become a martyr, and everyone treated you with caution, as if you were made of glass, as though it was impossible to get close to you without the risk of breaking it.

Since the silence established itself in the environment when you turned off the TV, all you heard was the static silence floating in the air, sound of little drops that flowed through your veins. Your mind had become vague, your thoughts made room for your imagination, you slowly fell asleep. There was a long time after you felt unconscious - you weren’t sure of how much exactly. Maybe two, maybe three hours. You had asked Doris to open the window before she let you rest alone in your room, and the wind was hitting your skin, still sensitive due to the excess of meds; the subtle cold you were feeling was making you feel alive.

The lights were off, and as soon as it became dark, the lights of the city reflecting through the window were no longer enough to light up the room belongings.

In that intense darkness and in the most absolute silence possible, the ghost that haunted your dreams was standing, tall as always, at the end of your bed. Haunting you. Silent like a snake approaching a possible victim, even his breath seemed to be controlled enough not to make a noise. His eyes, behind the mask, fixed on you; you slept quietly in a heavy sleep that was obviously the result of the strong medicines you were taking. He approached the bed a little, your hand was laying in your body side by the bed. So small.

Drop.

Drop.

The sound of the drops of IV falling through the bag invaded the environment as if it were the sounds of a giant walking. The big night silence had this effect on small sounds – it enlarged them. You heard the sound of the window closing inside your dreams, but that didn’t seem to wake you up. The cold wind no longer hit your skin, and you began to warm up.

How long has passed since the sound of the curtains closed you could not say; but what awakened you knew: it was the sounds of the door opening. You instinctively frightened and adjusted your posture in bed a bit abruptly, until you realized that the man who was entering — now unarmed though still dressed in his combat suit — was him. The Ghost.

He watched you in silence for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, the same serious and rough voice, the loaded British accent, different from your American one. “Forgive me.”

“You’re all right.” was all you could think of answering in the first moments. His eyes looked at you altogether; he was so tall that only his presence there made you feel intimidated, even if that was not his goal. “Don’t you want to sit?”

“I don’t intend to delay myself much.” He responded quickly, getting a little closer to the bed and sitting on one of the chairs next to him just to match your heights a little, imagining it should be uncomfortable for you, bending your neck to look at him standing. “Do you need something?”

“No. I’m fine now,” you whispered, sitting down. “I just wanted to thank you personally. I didn’t have time before, I- I just don’t think I was in good senses for it.” you admitted, holding your hands together on your lap.

“I just did my job.” he nodded, a serious air to his words. Ghost seemed like a man of few words, of few feelings too. His tone was monotone, always serious, seemingly stern sometimes. Made you feel like it was perhaps due to his habit of giving orders; he was a tenant, as Price told you. You knew little about the military hierarchy you had to admit, but the little knowledge was enough for you to know he did give orders. 

“I know, but... What you call ‘job’, to me was saving my life.” you seemed to try to remind him as if it was something obvious. “If I have any way to reward you for that, please tell me.”

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment and stretched his neck, shooking negatively.

“Again, I just did my job. You don’t have to reward me for that.” he said, looking at the flower vase that rested on the headboard table for a moment.

Simon noted that although there were thousands of gifts and tickets on the outside, sent by ordinary citizens in support of your situation - there were no balloons or any indication of a family or friendly gift inside your room. Only those flowers.

They were addressed to Anthony Miller. He assumed it would be your boyfriend.

“You don’t get it, Ghost. It’s not  about needing, it’s just something I want to do. It doesn’t have to be right now, you can tell me in the future if you need a favor or something like that.” 

“I don’t usually need favors.” he assured, snorting at your insistence, but trying to stay as polite and friendly as possible. He didn’t want to end up making you worse, did he? You were already sad enough. 

“Everyone needs favors. I also used to not need many before yesterday’s events.” You admitted, raising your eyebrows quickly and turning your gaze away.

“I didn’t do you a favor. I helped you, those are completely different things.” He shook negatively, irreducibly. “Any other decent soldier would do the same. You owe me nothing.” 

“Yes, but it was you. If it had been someone else then I’d like to thank this person.” you argued, and your stubbornness began to irritate him; he gave in compassion to your state and only sighed deeply.

“That’s all you have to treat with me, miss?” He asked, turning his head a little, and you corrected him; do not call me lady, you murmured, and instructed him to call you by your name.

You watched him in silence for a few seconds, before breathing deeply.

“Actually no. I have a request.” you said, in a whisper, and he shrugged his head as if giving you a positive one. “Can I see the face behind your mask?” You asked curiously.

“Negative.” He answered, almost immediately, without even giving you a chance to try to refute or argue. “I can’t show my face, and if it relieves you if anything, it’s not a nice image to look at,” he continued, rising up.

You were a little desperate for his sudden rising, hoping he would stay a little longer. Of all those people with whom you had talked so far — Price, Doris; he remained the one who seemed to please you into a conversation the most. You wanted to talk to him, because, unlike others, Ghost did not treat you like a porcelain doll.

He was treating you like any other person. 

“No, wait — you think you’re ugly, is that so? I don’t care.” you assured. “I doubt you’re ugly, to be honest.”

“I didn’t say that,” he raised an eyebrow, seeming to have your commentary somewhat amusing. You raised an eyebrow in response and laid your body on the pillows behind you.

“Wouldn’t you open an exception for me?” You asked, and he shook negatively. You closed your eyes, in a frustrated but accepting sigh.

“Well- you get well soon. Hear me, girl?” Ghost gently said, and walked a little further to the door, and stopped in his steps before leaving. He looked at you for a moment. “Are you here alone?”

“Yeah, I am. Why is it?” You asked curiously.

“Because your IV is running out, and without those pain meds, let me tell you...” he raised his eyebrows quickly. “Should I call your boyfriend or a nurse?” He asked, glaring at  you.

“Wait- my boyfriend?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows for a moment, and he remained silent. His hand stood up and pointed to the flowers next to the bed, as if he mentioned that the person who sent them should be your boyfriend. You eyed the flowers and let out a soft laugh.

“Ah, that... No, it’s not from a boyfriend.” You explained.

“Well, I’ll call some nurse then.” he said, his hand leaned on the door knocker and his fingers danced in unison, in a thoughtful expression. He looked at you again. “Stay safe.” he said, before his huge, broad figure disappeared through the door and the long hallway of the hospital leaving you once again lost to your thoughts, and alone.

Your eyes looked at your own hands for a few seconds, and you realized that they were pleasantly warm. You looked out the window, closed.

How strange was the fact that you didn’t remember having closed the window, thought to yourself. 

It could have been Doris. But your intuition said no.

[monstersandmaw]

Male dremora x female character - Part Nine (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere.

Content: domestic fluff, a little bit about dealing with the practical aftermath of a family member’s death, domestic smut, oral sex

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw), Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw)

Huge thanks to the two people who wanted this for their commissions and all the other people who’ve been politely begging me to add another part to this. I hope you enjoy this part as much as Alys does...

Wordcount: 3447

Alys stirred awake to the scent of something rich and savoury filling the small cabin, and she stretched like a cat before opening her eyes.

Her dremora sat cross-legged on the hearthrug in front of her, occasionally poking at the contents of a pot that dangled over the fire, and as she sat up and shook the sleep from her shoulders like a heavy blanket, he turned to face her.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked, rolling her neck to ease out a little of the stiffness that had built up after drifting off in a chair by the fire like an elderly Khajiit.

“Only an hour or so,” he said. “You’ve warmed up.” It wasn’t a question, and she wondered if he could tell that through their connection as well, or if it was just that she was calm and comfortable again.

She eyed the pot and peered over the rim from where she sat. “What’s in there?” she asked, mouth watering.

The dremora dropped his gaze and smiled bashfully. “I found an old recipe of your aunt’s in one of the books over there,” he said, gesturing towards the windowsill where a number of Gisela’s recipe books were stacked, along with The Gourmet’s famous tome.

“Good job you picked her book and not ‘Uncommon Taste’,” Alys muttered. “Did you know that the souffle recipe in there calls for an entire ‘cupful of nutmeg’? Ingesting that much would kill someone.”

“A human, maybe,” he grinned, levering his long frame up from the floor and absently pulling his long plait forwards over one shoulder to fiddle with the tip of it between his fingers.

She blinked up at him. “Don't tell me you actually could eat a whole cup of nutmeg without dying? And are dremora taste buds completely different or are you just… immune to stuff like that?”

“Our tastes are a little different,” he said with a shrug, “But we can stand toxins a lot better than humans can. An Orsimer might enjoy the effects of that much nutmeg though maybe. Maybe this ‘Gourmet’ is making souffles for orcs…”

“Come on, as if someone called ‘The Gourmet’ would ever be an orc,” she scoffed. “Anyway, what did you pick? It smells like Gisela’s venison casserole, but it’s not had long enough to cook down.” When he looked a little guilty, she added, “Did you use magic?”

He nodded.

“You know cooking magic?” she blurted, and he whickered a low laugh in response and folded his arms in a mime of mild outrage.

“It’s just refined destruction magic,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’ve never made toast in your college dormitory with a modified flame spell?”

“And what would you know of college dormitories?” she asked with another laugh as she got to her feet and stood looking up at him with a slow-beaming smile.

“You’ve never been to the Midden below the College?” he asked with a genuine frown, his body language changing again from playfully coiled to languid as a Khajiit in his curiosity.

Alys shook her head. “We’ve all heard about secret passages and chambers full of draugr beneath the College, but I’ve never been. I don't even know how to get down there. How do you know? Were you summoned by a student or something?”

She didn't mean to let the pang of jealousy quiver through her like the discordant pluck of an out of tune lyre, but it did all the same, and the dremora smiled softly. “I have been summoned to this plane a few times,” he said, “And once was to lend some power to a ritual taking place in what they called the Midden Dark. A group of students wanted access to a Daedric gauntlet, but I wasn’t powerful enough either and they banished me before too long… though not before they spent an hour bickering over a campfire about whether to keep me around or not.”

“What, and one of them just whipped up some cheese on toast to keep them going while they argued?” she said with a raised eyebrow.

Dremora laughed again and nodded. “More or less. It smelled wonderful. Infinitely better than the crushed frostbite spider eggs they’d used in the ritual.”

She shuddered and her stomach turned over. “Ugh, let’s not talk about spider eggs when you’ve gone to the effort of making casserole for us. I’m assuming there are no spider eggs in it…” she said, only half-joking as she regarded the stew pot. “You are a dremora, after all…”

He shook his head, plait swinging freely. “Venison, spices from the cupboard that were still good, and some of the vegetables you brought back.” He turned suddenly shy and added, “I hope you don’t mind that I…?”

“What, mind that you took care of me when I said that was exactly what I wanted you to do? No, of course not. Come on,” she said as her mind forgot about the spider eggs and her stomach growled at her instead. “I’m starving. It’s been one hell of a day.”

For those first couple of days at the cabin, Alys ignored the letter from ‘Gabriella’, and spent her time cleaning the dust and grime of the past months away — by hand, not by magic, much to the dremora’s bafflement — and sorting through Gisela’s belongings and deciding what to keep. “She was taller than me, and I’m terrible at sewing,” she said regretfully, staring at the tablet-woven hem of a beautiful, bluish-purple dress that had hardly been worn.

“You know there is such a thing as magic,” the dremora said from across the room where he was seated at the kitchen table. He, as it happened, was threading a magically-reinforced, bone needle through the leather of his cuirass strap, repairing a gash in the material from their encounter with the bandits outside Falkreath. “There’s a whole school that’s literally called ‘Alteration magic’.”

Alys snorted, balled up the dress and hurled it at him, then began to laugh even harder when it snagged on his horn and dangled limply off it like he was a particularly tall and muscular cloak peg. He set his armour down and plucked the dress off the tip of his horn with delicate, slate-coloured fingers and he held it up thoughtfully in both hands. His eyes flared from black to scarlet as he called his magic to him.

She felt the room crackle with it, like the air before a lightning strike or the aura of a storm spell, and she held her breath, watching. With a low-frequency hum as the magic of Oblivion bled across the realms, the hem of the dress drew up a little off the floor and the sleeves shrank up by an inch or so. When he was done, he held it out to her.

“You’re a useful Daedroth to keep around…” she muttered, cheeks flushing warm as she crossed the small cottage and took it back from him.

The dremora inclined his head, horns glinting. “I live to serve,” he said with a dry humour that instantly shattered her playful mood. 

When her expression shattered and she let her arms drop, dress pooling in folds of midnight fabric at her feet, he realised exactly what he’d said. 

“Alys, I didn't mean it like that. You know that. I… I chose to bind myself to you that day. I do not, and will not, regret it.”

As if to lend strength to his oath, the fire behind his eyes blazed brighter and his lips drew back just enough to reveal those unholy, double canines.

Instead of guilt or relief though, all Alys felt in that moment was desire, and the force of it took her by surprise.

This creature from another plain of existence should have cut her gleefully to pieces at his first sight of her, at the insult of being summoned improperly and for a task as mundane as guarding an exhausted, frightened woman from a few bandits, but instead he had chosen to kneel in the snow and to protect her, and then to bind himself to her will. He’d travelled across Skyrim at her side like a humble, hired mercenary, offered her comfort, laughed with her, shared his warmth with her — heck, now he’d even altered her damned clothes for her. The knowledge that she was not alone in facing what was to come next crashed through her in a great wave and she almost swayed on the spot.

She drew in a shaky breath, vision misting with unshed tears, and offered him a wobbly smile.

“Hey,” he said, and stood. He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms before gently prying the dress from her fingers and draping it over the back of the other chair by the table. He cupped her face in his warm, smooth, leathery palms, and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words escaping as almost nothing more than a sob. “Thank you for being so kind.”

“You know,” he rumbled, “You offer me quite a lot with this bargain too?”

“Yeah?” she said, looking up at him.

His eyebrows rose a fraction and he nodded. “Mmm.”

Gods, she loved that sound; that soft, satisfied purr that reverberated in his chest. It made her want to rest her ear against his warm skin and close her eyes; to hear his steady heartbeat and feel the length of his body pressed against hers again, as it had been in the bedroll back at that lonely camp beneath the rocks. She’d slept with people before, but she’d never ached for someone the way she found her body waking up then at his touch. She knew he would feel it, but this time she made no attempt to hide it.

“I will never take more than you offer me,” he went on carefully, “And if you ask, I will not deny you.”

“Deny me what?”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me,” she said, and he bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

That first taste was as tentative as a moth’s wings against a window; fleeting and just barely there before it vanished into the dark.

To start with, he was painfully careful with her, as if waiting for her to draw back, to change her mind, to push him away, but when she took hold of the back of his head and pulled him fiercely down into a kiss that she herself deepened, he groaned and let his red eyes roll closed.

He backed her up a few paces, using his superior height and strength over her, and then his hands closed around her hips and he lifted her up to sit on the table. She gasped as he broke the contact and let his hands skim up the soft wool of the dress that covered her thighs, revealing her legs to well above the knee.

“May I?” he asked, his palms still resting on her slightly parted thighs. His voice had dropped a few notes in pitch, rasping in his throat as though ground raw by his own barely-leashed restraint. She could see his double canines when he talked, and glimpsed his dark tongue behind.

“Yes,” she gasped, head tipping back as he sank to his knees. She’d never been more aroused in her life than by that one gesture, and she let the heat of it lick around the edges of her mind like flames.

He drew the damp fabric of her underwear down along her legs to lie forgotten on the flagstone floor. Then, hooking both arms under her thighs, the dremora tugged her in a single, swift motion right to the edge of the table, and shifted his grip to push her thighs slowly apart with his thumbs, fingertips barely resting on her skin. Something about the position was so erotic that her mind went blank for a few heartbeats.

She looked down at him and saw the way his breath caught at the sight of her exposed body, his jaw slack and slightly open as he regarded her before bringing his face slowly down between her legs. With the pad of his thumb, he slowly teased through her wetness and circled her clit just once before licking a long, hot stripe over her. 

As the taste of her hit his tongue, he growled; long and loud and decadent. She felt the vibration of it against her and bucked weakly. The sound of it filled the cabin as it rolled out of him, turning from the wild, feral growl of a werewolf to a distant, purring rumble. 

His left arm held her in place, clamped under and around her thigh, fingers pressing into the muscle hard enough to leave marks, but the contrast between that firm grip and the delicate brush of his tongue around her sensitive folds and up to nudge tentatively at her clit was almost enough to make her come already. 

Her mind floated away to a place of thoughtless bliss as he began a regular rhythm that started off slow and gentle, easing her into it and waking her up before he slid his right hand free from where he’d anchored it under her left thigh. He leaned back a little, and she looked down at him again to find his lips and chin glistening, his eyes blazing red in the shadows of his face.

The dremora traced his fingers up the inside of her thigh, the touch whisper-light, and she arched and grunted inelegantly, wordlessly begging him to return to what he had been doing a moment earlier, but he ignored that and instead circled his thumb languorously around her clit. He seemed to love the skittering sparks it sent up her spine and down her legs, and he savoured every little twitch her body gave him. Then his fingertips pressed inside her and she felt the slight stretch of it as he filled her. He sank to the knuckle inside her and crooked his fingers, pressing his fingertips against her walls and pulsing an insistent rhythm.

Leaning forward again, he kissed her clit.

There was no mistaking it. He closed his lips around the place where she was most sensitive and kissed her. He suckled gently at it for a moment, then let his tongue go back to the rhythm that had had her shaking and begging. With the additional pressure of his fingers inside her, she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer.

She curled forwards over him and reached down, instinctively grabbing his horns and pulling herself even closer into the contact. As she took hold of his horns, he let out a deep moan against her clit and his steady rhythm stuttered. The solid ridges and gentle, arching curve felt incredible beneath her fingers and the flecks of pyrite gold shimmered in the soft light of the room. It felt like they’d been made for her to hold onto.

“I’m so close,” she whispered.

“I know you are,” he said in a voice like gravel, lifting just far enough from her to speak. His breath was hot against her, his lips tantalisingly close, and she twitched as his words whispered across her skin. “I can feel it. If you come, you’re going to make me come too.”

“What —?” she gasped, letting go and leaning back, hips lifting.

Then his fingers pressed just-so inside her, and she lit up all over and came.

Her spine arched, and with her head thrown back she let out a broken yell as the pleasure that had been building and building inside her suddenly careered away from her and dragged her down with it. 

She’d never been so wet, so aroused, so turned on, and as she came into his hand, clenching around his knuckles, she just heard him give a soft grunt. He stopped moving, his lips frozen in place against her and his fingers keeping a steady, insistent pressure inside. The very slight nick of his double canines against her tender flesh made her gasp and shake, and it prolonged her orgasm until she felt wrung-out and shaky.

Heaving for breath, Alys forced herself to sit upright again, elbows aching where she’d locked them to keep herself from falling back onto the tabletop behind her, and she found him still kneeling between her legs with his fingers curled and buried to the hilt inside her.

Slowly, he opened his red eyes and slid free of her. Gods, she’d made a mess of him. She thought people only made that kind of mess in the lewd tales the City Guard bragged about on nights out with too much mead.

With the reverence of a pilgrim at the end of a long journey, the dremora looked up at her and smiled almost bashfully. He looked a little out of breath too, and as stunned as she felt. And, she realised, he looked uncertain.

“Help me down from here?” she asked. “Not sure I can feel my legs yet.”

He hitched a half-smile and nodded, standing to reveal a dark, damp patch in his leggings. He hadn’t been kidding about coming when she did.

She eyed it and then looked back up at his face. He didn’t seem embarrassed or put out by the fact that he’d come untouched in his underwear from having his mouth on her and his fingers inside her while he’d given her what was quite possibly the most mind-shattering orgasm of her life. “I feel bad now,” she said. “That can’t have been too comfortable for you.”

He shook his head and the smile encompassed the other side of his mouth too. “I didn’t mind at all,” he said. “You want me to carry you to the bed so you can catch your breath?”

There was no pride or gloating in his tone. It was just a simple question.

“If I said yes, would you like to join me?” she asked, biting her lower lip to stave off a little, gusting rush of self-consciousness. She was also careful to make sure it was completely his choice, given the power she had over him anyway.

“I would,” he smiled, and slid an arm under her knees and around her shoulders.

He hefted her easily and stalked over to the small bed in the corner of the cottage. There, he laid her down and stepped back to shuck out of his ruined leggings while she drew her dress off over her head and let it fall in a crumpled heap at the end of the bed. She took a moment to enjoy the long, slender lines of his grey body, and his stormcloud skin that was punctuated by red lines of lightning running from his face all the way down his torso and spine, over his hips and along his slender, muscular legs to his black-taloned feet.

When they were both under the covers, he lying on his back with his arm underneath her head and Alys on her side, tracing those red lines on his torso with a fingertip, left leg thrown over his thigh, she sighed and kissed his chest.

“Are these tattoos or natural?” she asked, eyeing the contrast between blood red and slate grey skin.

“We’re not born with them, but they’re our mark of bondage to Mehrunes Dagon, ultimately,” he said softly. “I may be bound to you for now, but my soul is tethered to the Deadlands. When this body ceases to exist, my soul will return there. These marks will guide the way.”

“Like a summoning circle,” she murmured and he nodded.

She let her palm skate across his smooth, lean and muscled chest, then down over his ribs, and his breath hitched as she passed the sharp jut of his hips. He pushed his head back into the pillow, the tips of his horns pressing into the soft linen, and he let out a shuddering moan that travelled the length of his body.

She kicked the covers back off him and watched his clawed toes flex as his muscles tensed and relaxed in a wave, and she saw that his cock was hard again already. It twitched and left a silvery line of pre-come between tip and stomach. Slightly darker than the rest of his skin, with a single red line running along the underside from the crease of his balls all the way to the head, he was large, but not intimidatingly so. She closed her hand around him and he moaned. He was so hard; she would never have guessed he’d just come only minutes earlier.

His mouth opened a little, dark lips parting just enough to show her his pointed canines again, and he swallowed thickly, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Alys,” he gasped when all she did was gently squeeze the length of him in her hand.

More pre-come drooled over her skin and down the back of her hand. “Mmm?”

“You don’t have to —”

“But I want to,” she said. “Let me?”

“Anything,” he exhaled, shuddering again. “Gods, anything.”

With her permission granted, Alys set about returning the favour, and learned exactly how many times in a row a dremora could come.

___

Hopefully you’re still enjoying this story, and hopefully next time we get to meet Gabriella, and see just what she thinks of Alys’ choice of boyfriend/bodyguard...

Don’t forget to reblog if you did enjoy this! It means the world to creators like me, and it’s the only way our work ever gets seen.

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[moosemonstrous]

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - personal space

Turns out, staying in drift with multiple tons of a highly sophisticated robot for hours at a time gives you a bad case of sea legs.

“Oi, watch out!” One of the techs catches Robbie before he hits the cockpit floor. He’s graduated from control room to the inside of the Conn-Pod, which mostly means there is a lot less space for all the people upgrading the hardware and drawing out plans for removing the other pilot console. “I think you had enough for one shift.”

What, already? “I can–“ But he can’t, because they removed his helmet and he might be sick just from trying to look at someone without seeing the whole hangar at the same time. “Ugh.”

The tech laughs and waves over colleagues to help her unscrew Robbie from the makeshift rigging. In a real fight, he’d have been thrown across the pod on the first hit, but it works well enough to let him move The Charger around the bay. It takes three people with power drills to extract him, and two to effectively carry him out of the cockpit, where Cho and Stark have their monitoring station set up on the walkway.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Stark demands when the techs deposit Robbie on the crate Cho is currently using as a bed. “I didn’t see a seizure, what’s–“

“He’s exhausted, boss,” the tech points at Robbie, who’s too focused on keeping his head from rolling off his neck to defend himself. As soon as he’s down, two nurses descend to check his eyes and to attach a mini-EEG to his temples. More people have touched him in the last twenty four hours than possibly his entire life up to this point, and if he wasn’t so nauseous he’d be feeling some kind of way about it. “Besides, look at the countdown. Canelo says we need at least six hours to get the wiring sorted. Might as well follow Cho’s example.”

“Right,” Robbie can’t see what Stark is doing, but judging by the deep sigh he doesn’t have it in him to argue, either. “Right, good shout. Yeah, let’s— When did he conk out?”

“An hour ago,” one of the nurses says in a way that promises to cut off Stark’s caffeine access.

“I thought it got quiet. Hey, Reyes, how’re you feeling? Nothing new popped? Brain all good?”

Robbie cracks open his bad eye to look at him over the nurse’s shoulder. He didn’t realise he’d closed them. “Fine. I think.”

“Thinking is a good indicator!” Stark exclaims, throwing his hands up. The enthusiasm makes him look ten years younger. “Go get some chow. Pam, make sure he doesn’t collapse in a hallway somewhere, Jen would eat one of my important organs.”

“I’m fine, I’m just—” Robbie presses his feet into the metal surface of the walkway. His knees feel detached, but less like they won’t hold if he tries to stand. “Just need a minute.”

“You need to sleep,” the nurse – Pam – waggles a finger on his face. “We’ve set up the old Horizon Bravo quarters—”

“No,” he protests. It’s half five. He can just make it, if his legs cooperate. “No, I need to go get my brother. He starts school at seven.” An exchange of significant glances occurs over his head. “I’ll be back after drop off. I’ll grab some food on the way.“

Lisa very kindly offered to help Gabe get ready in the morning when Robbie was told to come back to the hangar for the fifth shift to continue testing. He doesn’t mind leaving his brother to sleep on his own – he could never really afford to – but something about having a virtual stranger take over on such a short notice doesn’t sit right with him.

“Amadeus said you sorted it out,” Stark says, like he suspects he’s being had. It takes Robbie a moment to figure out he’s referring to Cho.

“In case I can’t make it back.” Robbie refuses to back down under his stare. “I can. So I will.”

“…Sure, whatever.” Stark makes eyebrows at Pam the Nurse before turning around to address everyone around: “Alright people, countdown is on fifteen hours! Pilot’s going to catch a snooze, everyone else get on the Conn-Pod while it’s free!”

“Did you not sleep at all?” Gabe yawns while Robbie collects a change of clothes. Parading through the support side in the undersuit made him feel half-naked and he’s not keen on repeating the experience. “Robbie, you have to sleep.”

“I know, buddy.” He’s also not keen on letting Lisa and Pam wait outside for too long. Lisa showed up despite Robbie texting her it was alright, ‘just in case’. “It’s just because the countdown is low, okay? Things will even out soon.”

After the next demon. Jesus, what is his life. If Gabe catches the implication, he doesn’t comment on it, so Robbie gets on with peeling the undersuit off. It’s much harder to do after sweating in it for eight hours and belatedly he realises that’s why you should’ve used that baby powder.

“What’s that?”

When he turns to look over his shoulder, Gabe’s pointing at his back, brows drawn together in concern. Does it show? Does what show? He feels along his shoulder blades as far as he can bend his arm, but other than sweat, nothing is there.

“What’s what?”

“It’s red. Like squiggles, but straight.”

“Where?”

He crouches down to let Gabe draw lines down his spine with his fingers. He still can’t feel anything out of order. “Picture,” Gabe makes a grabby hand for Robbie’s phone.

There are indeed lines of red blotches along his spine. Just skin irritation; something deep in Robbie’s chest releases in relief. Nothing to worry about. Probably just pressure from the spinal clamp. Yeah, those things dig in after a while.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he ruffles Gabe’s hair to his loud displeasure. “The drivesuit left some marks, that’s all.”

“Robbie, are you really going to fight the demon?”

Robbie knows every single expression Gabe has ever made better than his own face. He can tell whether his brother is happy or not, whether he needs space or coaxing, whether everything around him is too much or not enough – the one thing in life he thinks he’s definitely an expert in. But he’s never seen him look like this before. Like he’s afraid to be excited.

“No, I’m just–“ he searches for the right word. “The jaeger isn’t ready, and I’ve not had enough training. I’ll just be protecting the base.” Unless you grow some balls between now and go time. “I’m not doing anything risky, alright? It will probably be really boring.”

Are you kidding? You get to pilot the best-looking jaeger in the line-up and you expect it to be boring? God, he hopes it will be boring. There is a non-zero chance the demon won’t go for Hong Kong at all, and The Charger won’t even come off the suspension rack. He doesn’t want his first job to end up in a disaster because he has no goddamn clue what he’s doing. I know what I’m doing. That’s more than enough.

“I bet it will be really cool,” Gabe smiles encouragingly. Robbie blinks away the alien sense of puffed-up confidence he definitely hasn’t earned. “Lisa said we might go into a bunker. We’ve never been in a bunker before.”

Not that Gabe remembers, at least. “I can still take you to school, you know.”

“You,” Gabe puts his palm against his chest, “need to,” and powers his wheelchair to push Robbie towards the bunk bed: “sleep!”

Despite his insistence, Robbie doesn’t let him just leave. Pam is still waiting outside the door when he unlocks the ramp down to the corridor level. Her and Lisa must have made fast friends, because they abruptly stop talking as soon as they see Robbie. He has no reason to suspect they were talking about him, but two women going quiet and smiling like that never spelled anything good in my life before. Did he put his t-shirt on backwards or something?

“Morning! Are you ready to go?” Lisa grins at Gabe, who squeezes Robbie’s hand before letting go to roll his chair down to her side.

“I have time, I could–“ he starts, but Pam smacks him in the chest with a plastic bag. It smells faintly like bread. The look on her face dares him to finish the sentence.

“We can make it to CC on our own, right Gabe?” Lisa has a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. She and Pam exchange a conspiratorial glance, and Robbie barely gets a hug goodbye before his brother rides away without him.

Pam has enough mercy to let him stand in the doorway for a couple more minutes. “It’s half six,” she observes eventually like she’s commenting on the weather. “Eat the food, all of it. The outfitters expected you to have gained more weight by now.”

When Robbie peeks into the bag, it contains at least two doughnuts. “There’s a pager in there, too. If you aren’t asleep by eight, ping it, someone will come give you downers.”

“Downers?”

She gives him a pitying look. “You need at least five hours. You did well up there, but if you end up out in the ocean, you could be drifting for a very long time. Eat, sleep, and don’t show your face up in the dome until the third shift, no matter what R&D say. Got it?”

Robbie grits his teeth. “Eat, sleep, come back for third shift,” he mutters. “Got it.”

Pam smirks. “Another sunny one.” She pushes him again until he’s fully inside the bunk room and shuts the door behind her. Bitch.

He really needs to rest. Next thing he knows, he’ll be squaring up to Dr Montesi.

...Next time he wakes up, it will be to really pilot a jaeger. Out of the Shatterdome, with a demon due within hours.

Cheer up, kid. What's the worst that could happen?

[im-outofideas]

it’s not so bad here

fandom: criminal minds

w/c: 2155

pairing: platonic BAU (mostly prentiss and morgan), spencer reid

summary: perspective of spencer: on the jet ride home after a long case. The team is so tired they get a lil silly. fluff + minimum angst I mean it is spencer’s brain.

a/n: this is quite literally my first time for everything, my first time using tumblr and my first ever fanfiction. i had a lot of fun so perhaps expect more maybe?? I want to thank the amazing @nhasablogg for being the biggest inspiration and just so cool honestly. they helped a lot with this work and have just been the kindest person ever!!! anyway pls read the following with all this☝️in mind.

~~~~~~

Spencer never really got used to flying. The team was currently thirty-six-thousand-eight-hundred-sixty-four feet above what Spencer assumed (or more accurately, calculated) would be Tennessee based on flight patterns from Dallas to Quantico and the amount of time they’ve been in air for. Which was roughly three hours, forty-five minutes, six seconds. Seven. Eight. They had about three more hours to go.

The pressure was building in Spencer’s ears and he grimaced, swallowing hard in an attempt to pop them. He always felt a pang of anxiety whenever any pain came to his head, as his memory would replay his mother’s cries for relief during bad episodes.

There was one night when Spencer was eleven, experiencing his first true migraine after finishing his college applications. It was one of the few times Spencer remembered his mother taking care of him instead of the other way around, she was almost completely lucid. His fear was much stronger then, and while he was a boy-genius, his brain was still biologically too immature to handle it.

“I’m dying, mom.” The corners of his eyes wet with tears. His mother smiled at him. It wasn’t often that Spencer behaved his age like this.

“No baby, your head is just too full, and your skull is too small to contain it. The pain is just your head expanding, working to grow and stay ahead of your thoughts.”

“Actually, your brain can’t be too big for your skull. There’s just a blood vessel swelling, and that’s putting pressure on the surrounding nerves which is making the muscles around my skull tighten and causing…” he groaned in frustrated pain. His mother stroked his hair soothingly.

“Would you listen to your mother for once, Spencer? Just go to sleep, you can’t feel the world in your sleep, you know. Go somewhere other than this reality, where your head isn’t constantly working. Relieve some of that pressure... It’s too stressful here, isn’t it?” A far too familiar distant look crossed her eyes for a moment. He rushed to retrieve her.

“Mom.. would you stay with me tonight?”

She returned her son’s gaze. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

His pain seeped out with every stroke, as if his mother’s fingers were magically sucking it out from his skin. As he fell asleep, he found that she was right. He didn’t feel anything. It was like traveling through time.

—————

The case in Texas was particularly rough. Over the past five days, the team got maybe a total of eight hours of rest each. And as far as successes go, they’ve gotten better wins. As a headache creeped up on Spencer, he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the jet couch for a nap. He fell asleep pretty quickly, ready to skip through the headache until he was in Virginia again.

But a funny sensation on his right foot caused his leg to jerk in. I thought I couldn’t feel the world in my sleep. He stirred to see Prentiss standing at the end of the couch.

“I like your socks, Reid.” She said, before wiggling her fingers over his left pink-and-purple striped sock.

“Hey!” He pulled his other leg in and smushed it against the cushion to smother the feeling. He checked his watch, the jet couldn’t be landing already? “What’d you wake me up for?”

“I couldn’t help myself. Purple’s my favorite color.” She grinned at his reaction, before it faded into a frown. “Hang on, now that you’re up though, how come you always get the full couch to sleep on?” Morgan leaned over from his seat, invested in the conversation.

“Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say something about that bull.” He craned his neck, exaggerating the pain of sleeping upright.

“Reid is the youngest,” Hotch said from out of nowhere, neither against him nor in his defense. Spencer hadn’t even noticed him watching. Had they all been watching him sleep? Rossi continued for Hotch, “I suppose he assumed he got first rights to the couch for being born last. And you all let him.”

Hotch went back to the paperwork in his lap, diligent even while running on no sleep. “No, what about Ashley Seaver? She was younger than Reid,” he said. Definitely against him.

“And he still took the couch. Like a gentleman,” said Rossi.

Suddenly, Spencer felt very ganged up on.

“Is that right?” Morgan squinted at Spencer as if he stole something precious from him.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” Prentiss said. “We can’t let him get away with this anymore.”

At first, he was confused by the rare playfulness of his coworkers, especially from Hotch adding to the banter after the crazy, long week. Then he realized; everyone was sleep deprived and filled with a goofy, delirious energy. And while they weren’t able to catch the unsub, they were able to return a young girl back to her family - traumatized, but albeit unharmed - something they saw far too little of. The feeling left everyone more fuzzy than anything, it outweighed the disappointment of losing the unsub. Reuniting a family always strengthened his own, Spencer thought. Perhaps that fuzziness and fatigue was expunging all the professionalism they maintained while the case was ongoing.

And now Spencer - who was just sleeping soundly on the couch that everyone was hungry for - was beginning to feel that fuzziness himself. He faced his back towards his team as he pulled his cover up to his chin and closed his eyes.

“If you wanted it, you should’ve gotten to it first.”

At that, he heard Morgan rise and make his way toward the couch. The blanket was ripped off him dramatically. He kept his eyes closed and opened his mouth to snore lightly. His snore lasted half a second before the sound was abruptly cut off, immediately snapping his mouth shut in a toothy grimace and slamming his elbow down to his side.

“Get your ass up, Reid,”

“No.” He buried his face into the back of the couch, trying to hide his smile as if the way his elbow followed each of Morgan’s delivered pokes didn’t give him away. Reid stiffened a bit more, he focused on schooling his reactions and moving less. If he started laughing, there was no way they would stop, probably even after he gave up what they wanted.

“C‘mon, it’s time to wake up.” His resolve began to crumble when Morgan tasered both sides of his ribs. “Share with the rest of us.”

“Ahhh-ha! Stop!” He huffed out a laugh before holding his breath to stop himself. His face quickly flushed as he wiggled on the couch.

“You know, everyone else sits during the whole flight. As a courtesy to the rest of the team. Except for you-” He accentuated by digging into his ribs again, causing another yelp and laugh to slip. “-who’s just sleeping here like a baby. What’s up with that?”

“Derek-“

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t speak.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Reid? You’re not ticklish, are you?” Prentiss cooed as if nobody could tell he would be just by looking at him.

That’s all it took to crack him. Once the hysterical laughter began he couldn’t stop it. Like a defense mechanism, his brain started working in overdrive to apply logic to best overcome this assault. It took no time to figure out he could never physically stop Morgan; in terms of strength he was far outmatched.

Well, tickling is essentially the body’s response to unpredictable stimuli, so theoretically he could dull the sensations by predicting the attacks. He could trick his brain into believing he was tickling himself. He applied it in a fraction of a second.

All he did was swat at Morgan’s hands in an awkwardly gentle manner, unable to take hold of them. It really did absolutely nothing. Spencer wondered if he were one of the few who could tickle himself.

Before he could think of another solution, Prentiss grabbed one of his arms and hoisted it up above his head.

“No no no, wait wait doN’T-“

Being able to predict was proven a completely worthless tactic. Morgan tickled under his arm and he screamed. His ears finally popped and he could hear the sounds of his own bright laughter at its true pitch. His defense mechanism was shot, as if Morgan’s fingers were sucking out any ability to form a useful thought.

“Oh my god, how’d an eagle get so high up here?” Prentiss teased before breaking down herself.

Spencer wailed and curled his legs in protectively. When that did nothing, he kicked and pulled down at his arm. When that did nothing, he fell back in a whiny giggle in an attempt to garner their sympathy. That did nothing but encourage them.

“Hotch!”

Hotch finished his note, glanced very briefly at his team before returning to his work with the slightest of smiles. Spencer felt betrayed. Supervisory special agent my AAHHAA-

“Oh oh, what’s going on? It sounds like fun, let me see,” JJ turned the laptop over to show Garcia what was happening: Spencer flopping red in the face with Morgan practically sitting on him, Prentiss crouching - legs wobbly from her own laughter - behind Spencer’s head, still holding onto his arm.

“Oh geez, Spencer. How did I not know you were ticklish! Because of course you are. What did he do to deserve this? Did he cheat at Go Fish again?”

Upon seeing Garcia’s grin and his own disheveled form mirrored back at him, Spencer felt embarrassed. If anyone was going to make this a recurring experience, it would be her. He wasn’t totally against the idea, which made him blush furiously harder.

“Okay, okayokay! Y-you can have the couch. I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” Prentiss let go and Spencer squirmed out of Morgan’s grasp, falling to the floor of the jet. He stayed there catching his breath in high-pitched giggles, bewildered by what just happened. He wiped his eyes and looked up at Hotch and Rossi, who stared down at him with immense amusement.

“Thanks for the help guys,” he exhaled, exhausted. They both shook their heads with fond smiles.

“I trusted my agents could handle an internal conflict on their own,” Hotch said.

“You mean manhandle..”

He looked to Morgan, who was settling comfortably on the couch with Reid’s blanket, Prentiss cuddling next to him. He rubbed his sides and looked down at the ground, defeated.

“There’s plenty of room for all of us, big guy,” Prentiss offered her hand, inviting him to the couch. Spencer took it with a smile and sat down awkwardly with his hands resting on his thighs. She draped the blanket over the three of them.

“I’m sorry for being a couch hog.”

“I’m sure you are,” Prentiss snickered.

“It’s alright, Reid, you seem like you always need the sleep. We were just having fun. Did we go too far?” Morgan asked sincerely, arm around Emily and hand on Reid’s shoulder.

“Nah.. I-I had fun too. I mean, I haven’t laughed that hard in a while. I don’t think you guys have either actually.”

“Yeah, well, you did look really funny.” Prentiss said.

Spencer nudged her with a smile, earning him a poke which he quickly followed with a soft noooo don’t.

Morgan scratched the side of his head, mostly to teasingly get his attention. But it felt nice. “Start preparing for a lot more of that.”

“Hmm.. my mom used to do this for me.”

“Tickle you?”

“Uh, no. Stroke my hair. Whenever I got a bad headache, she would tell me to sleep, and then she would pet me until I did.”

“Do you have a headache now?”

“Earlier, a little.”

Without saying any more, Morgan patted down his (now) short hair before stroking up and down soothingly.

“Like that?”

Spencer slumped over and began fake-snoring. Morgan withdrew his hand and sat up a little straighter, which immediately woke him back up “I’m kidding I’m kidding I’m kidding please just- keep doing what you were doing.” They returned to their original positions after Morgan shot him a warning look.

Prentiss rested her head on his shoulder. He leaned his own head back against the couch and allowed himself to relax. The reality of Emily being there with all of them suddenly hit him. Countless nights he begged for her death to be reversed, to be a hoax. To be replaced even. Back then he wished to go to another reality, somewhere without the pressure and the stress, somewhere he couldn’t feel the world. But now, how lucky was he for her to be returned, for her to be truly safe and sound and laughing with them again? He would rather be nowhere else.

He checked his watch, there was two hours left of the flight. The three of them fell asleep very quickly, but rather than try to skip through time, Spencer savored the moment.

[lulutaylorsimaginarium]

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words: 1482

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Part 5

She didn’t say much the next morning. Gabby figured if she said anything the chances of a fight increased. She was tired of the arguments; she was tired of the whole situation. She was sick of the fear in the pit of her stomach that never went away. 

She wanted to go home. It was quiet there. Everybody was calm and polite. No one made a fuss.

There was comfort in that.

Maybe that’s what she was needing

Comfort.

Gabby helped pack up the van, which she had to admit. They were getting fast at it.

Suddenly Frankie appeared next to her. He dropped the keys to the van in her hand

“Really?”

“To the next pitstop. That’s it”

“Oh, come on”

“If Rojas finds us. You put your foot down and avoid the trees”

“One tree and I never hear the end of it”

“I’m serious”

“I know you are”

She didn’t try to avoid Santiago but she also didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe if she could just say silent. Speak when spoken too. Remain professional, get the job done and move on. She had done that before on the job.

This was a job.

They were like a mouse and a boa constrictor. She understood that now and they would probably always would be that way. They both also would always be in Frankie’s life,  so she had to find a way around it.

She jumped into the driver’s seat and turn the key and idled the engine aggressively before smiling at Frankie

“You’re hilarious”

“Only seventy two hours to go”

“Jesus” Frankie uttered under his breath

“You’re brave handing her the keys” a voice said outside the car.

Santiago.

She didn’t say anything about his comment, she didn’t even react and everybody noticed, instead she asked

“Are we headed to Trujillo?”

“Yeah. Stop at Huacho though”

“Why not stop at Santa Maria or Chonta?”

“You wanna see the condors?” Santiago teased

“Well, if you stop in Santa Maria we can get on the La Panamericana Norte”

“Too open” he said shaking his head

“Huacho it is” she gave him a tight smile “See you guys there”

Santiago and the brothers watched the van drive away. Will chuckled quietly

“You’re screwed, man”

“This may be worse”

“She’s going to make it worse” Benny laughed

“Let’s go” Santiago mumbled

They had to give her credit. Once she decided something she worked fast and it was beautiful to watch

 

#

 

Frankie and Gabby were leaning on their van as the other guys pulled up to the pit stop. Gabby eating picarones and Frankie hoeing down cachangas.

“How long have you guys been here?” Will asked

“While” Frankie said shoving food into his mouth

“We were hungry and had time to waste because you drive like a grandma” she said offering him some food. He stole one and took a bite

“Ok, Speed Racer”

“If Gabby’s drives the rest of the way. We’ll be in Caracas by tomorrow” Frankie joked

“You love it” she laughed

The thought of being in the vans for more days than they needed made all of them edgy. The sooner they get rid of this stuff the better.

Suddenly her phone rang in her pocket. Gabby jumped at the sound before answering the call.

Santiago unfolded a map and spread it across the bonnet of one of the vans. As Gabby paced back and forth talking to someone with a big smile on her face.

“This is taking too long” he told them “We have to start driving through the night. We’ll have to do shifts”

“We’re one person down for shifts, Pope” Frankie told him “You have to sleep too”

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll stop just not as much”

Suddenly they heard Gabby’s laugh. They all looked over at her and she didn’t have a clue, she was too distracted.

  “What did you figure out?” Will asked

“One person driving during the day. One at night. Quick breaks in between”

“What going on?” she asked walking back over to the guys

“Guayaquil to Quito to Cali to Bogota to Puerto Ayacuho to Caracas” Santiago told them his finger following on the map

“There’s a place we can stay in Cali. Won’t be enough beds but inside plumbing and it will be more comfortable than a van” she told them

“I’ve got night shift” Frank told her. That was all he had to tell her for her to know the plan had shifted

“If you guys wanna go into town and get some real food. We can stay by the vans” she offered

“Everything alright with Caracas?” Santiago asked her “That was the phone call, yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s just flown in. He’ll get everything ready for us. So when we get there we can move it, store it and relax while I figure out the rest of the plan. We’ll probably be there are a few days”

“Okay”

“Go get something to eat. It’s not far” 

She watched them walk away as she folded up the map and put it back in Santiago’s van.

Talking to Sebastian helped her nerves. He was more confident than she was, which oddly made her feel more confident. She still had to figure out a way to get it from Caracas to wherever they were going to next. Time had clearly become an issue, if only in Santiago’s mind.

Sebastian had sent out some feelers to see if they could get some information. She knew that they needed it, but she didn’t like the idea of Sebastian poking around in Rojas’ business. What if he asked the wrong person, the wrong question and Seb got a knock on the door?

This was all become too real for her.

She couldn’t turn back now.

“I can hear that mind working from all the way over here” Frankie told her quietly

“We’re going to need a cover story for all the border crossings”

“We’re tourists”

“With sacks of coffee beans?”

“They haven’t check us so far”

“We’ve been lucky”

“I wish he had made you fake ID too” he told her quietly “They can track you. Rojas has to have people working on the boarders”

“If things get hairy I’ll just flash the work credentials. They’ll get bored, real fast”

“They’ll have you’re name and your job then”

“I’ll was thinking of moving on anyhow”

“What would you do?”

“Go work at a bank” she joked. He didn’t laugh “It’s too emotional. You know me. I want to fix everybody”

“You do for the most part”

“Maybe I’ll go back to London”

“That’s too far away” he playfully whined

“The Netherlands isn’t?” she laughed

“Also too far”

“You wanna be neighbours?”

“Yes, I need a babysitter now anyhow”

“I could be your nanny”

“Listen, if you don’t mind being paid in room and board. I’m cool with it”

“You’d get sick of me eventually”

“No I wouldn’t”

She chuckled sweetly and shook her head

“Let’s just get out of South America and then I’ll figure out the rest”

They peacefully ate their food in silence. No awkwardness, no need to fill the silence. The wheels in her mind were spinning. He could see them. She was trying to be a step ahead. Trying to plan ahead, even though they didn’t know what was in front of them. Gabby was logical, she always had been and that was why she was good at her job. If she could be five steps ahead, she would be. 

 

#

When they got back from town Gabby was asleep in the back seat and Frankie was lost in his own little world. Santiago walked over to their van and looked through the window to see not even a hurricane could have woken her.

“She alright?”

Frankie just laughed to himself because that’s not what Pope was really asking him

“Don’t like being freeze out, huh?”

“Polite Gabby is actually much worse”

“If it makes you feel any better. She’s not actually angry. She’s worried. She’s in protective mode. That’s why she’s attacking. She maybe a bleeding heart but she doesn’t love easily. We’re putting a lot of people she loves in danger. Don’t take it personally”

“Difficult not too”

“Well, maybe take it a little personal” he laughed “Once we get to the farm. She’ll calm down. Sebastian, has that effect on her”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed”

“Trust me, this guy can handle whatever will get thrown at him. If Gabby is always five steps ahead. Sebastian is always ten steps ahead. We need him and unfortunately, Pope. You need her. Wouldn’t hurt to go easy on her”

“Noted”

“What time do you want to take off?”

“Half an hour?”

Frankie nodded his head in agreement before Santiago walked away, but not without a sneaky look into the back seat that Frankie didn’t mention that he noticed

[aajjks]

DHP!JK

nausea/vomiting, breast tenderness, fatigue, cravings, headaches; soon, your body will change as it prepares for the fetus and jungkook is stoked. he’s constantly rubbing on your belly and talking to it and as you come close to finishing your first month of pregnancy, he grows more and more excited the meet yours and his little creation.

“Yn sweetie are you OK? You feel any better?” jungkook asks with his arm secure around you and your head lying comfortably on his chest. “mhm” you nod your head with your eyes closed, already growing sleepy after a long day of constant dizziness, vomiting, and napping. “So yn…” jungkook pauses which causes you to open your eyes and look up at him. he looks concentrated, almost hesitant to tell you what he’s thinking.

“I know that it’s really really early and your pregnancy just started, but what do you think we’re gonna have?” your eyes soften as you smile into his chest. you hear jungkook mention a son and a daughter, but you want plenty more. two girls, two boys, all possessing jungkook’s beautiful eyes, and his beautiful face. “i want more than just one of each…maybe four” jungkook’s eyes widen when you mention having four kids which causes you to burst into laughter. “i said maybe. i’ll take anything if it involves you” you say with honesty which causes jungkook to pull you closer to him. you always know how to make him fall in love with you all over again.

next, you both talk about ahyeon and how big she’s getting. you give jungkook the OK to go see his brother ian and talk a little bit more, even reminisce a little. you’ll never forget the first time you met jungkook—the guy with neat hair, glasses, a white collar shirt, dark blue jeans, and low tops. you’re so happy you gave that cute dork a chance. you’d give him a billion chances if it meant being with him for seven years and being happy through all seven.

“Yn, do you know what? Thank you so much for forgiving me and I cannot wait to go on the journey with you. I love you so much”

“i love you too, jungkook and i mean every word. you make so happy” you lean up to press a kiss on jungkook’s cheek which puts a smile on his face. “it’s getting late now we should sleep..” he whispers before leaning over to turn his bedside lamp off. he whispers one last ‘i love you’ to you before falling asleep.

~🫧

The next morning, it’s a little chirpier, but since it’s September now the atmosphere is changing and it’s starting to get a little bit cold.

He gets up at around 6 AM in the morning because he has started to work at his father’s company and he doesn’t like waking you up in the morning, especially since you are pregnant. 

jungkook has been loving his life lately because this past month has made him super happy and there was no drama, no tears just happiness.

You make him so happy and it’s been the biggest blessing for him to see you happy, and growing.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, you move in your sleep, but he makes sure that you don’t wake up before he is exiting the room and he makes his way out of the apartment.

The drive to the company is calm, jungkook made sure to leave you a note where he wrote down your diet for the day and he made sure to cook your breakfast in advance

He’s gonna call you once you wake up.

Three hours later when he’s looking through some files sitting in his office, his phone buzzes.

Jungkook immediately picks it up because your name is flashing on his screen.

“Hi baby!!! oh my God good morning and have you eaten yet?” He asks, a goofy smile on his face. Your voice sounds groggy so it means that you just woke up.

It’s so sweet that you thought of him as soon as you woke up, he likes being the only thing you think about, day and night.

“I think I’m gonna go head home with Ian for a few hours.. hang out with Crystal and ahyeon for a bit like I told you last night and then I’ll be home by 5 PM definitely!”

He can hear the pout in your voice you don’t like being away from him, and that makes his heart flutter.

“I love youuu and our little one!!!! see you soon, my precious, take care.”

[melishade]

Damn it, I lost count again. Number 31?

This ask game

Peaceful Timeline. Dealing with Ymir's second pregnancy.

Oshern was in a...interesting predicament. Not one that he was particularly fond of.

When his wife, Ymir, had gotten sick and had thrown up, there was an obvious concern for her well being. What had happened? Would she be alright? Then Optimus had examined her and explained to them all that she was with child, or 'pregnant'...these new phrases and terms were rattling him.

That didn't mean that Oshern wasn't happy. He was ecstatic. He never thought that he would have a child come from him directly. He didn't think he would even have a family as big and strange as this. But...he's also been used to being alone for...years. And going from being alone to a house of...technically four has had it's ups and downs.

Everyone had to accommodate for Ymir’s changing body, although the one taking it the hardest was clearly Optimus, since he was trying to control every aspect of the pregnancy. Which had led to a few arguments between him and Optimus about his skills. He hasn’t felt that angry in a while.

They still made it work for the most part, but now he was in a very compromising position. He was lying on his side in bed, with a three month pregnant woman still sleeping and latching onto him so tight from behind. He could hear the gentle snores coming from her, and any other circumstances, he would have found this welcoming. Ymir had complained about getting a full night’s rest and this is the most that she has slept.

But Oshern really needed to go to the bathroom. But he didn’t want to wake up his wife! Damn it! No one had even come into the room yet! It was morning! Someone open the door! He didn’t have the heart to wake up Ymir!

Oshern nearly screamed with jubilation when someone had opened the door, but nearly got annoyed when he saw that it was Optimus in his human form. He still wasn't going to be stubborn about it, and used his pinned arm to wave to the Prime for help. He hated how Optimus looked amused at the situation, and...was he holding back laughter!

"Help!" Oshern nearly yelled. He covered his mouth when he felt Ymir moving a little bit.

"She looks very well rested," Optimus whispered.

"Yes, she does, but I need to go to the bathroom and I don't have the heart to wake her," Oshern whispered, “Help me.”

Optimus looked like he was debating his options, which made Oshern annoyed. “Look, you can’t just be angry with me because I’m not following your strict rules.”

“How many hours of sleep has she gotten?” Optimus asked him.

“She slept the whole night,” Oshern replied, “Can you help me?”

“…Let her sleep a little more,” Optimus decided.

Oshern glared at the Prime, but he was unwavering in his decision. “Optimus-!”

“I know you are annoyed with me, as is Megatron,” Optimus began, “But…before you, before Maria, and before Megatron, it was just the two of us: me and IronSpark. My knowledge of humans were already limited, but to take care of a pregnant woman is one of the hardest challenges I had to do. I had to find her a proper home, a proper place of rest, food that was safe to eat. I was out of my depth. I had no one to ask for help without compromising her safety. Additionally, the suffering she went through under the Eldian king.”

Oshern’s expression grew tight and grim. Of course if came back to the Eldian Empire.

“I just…I know our family has grown and that we have more help, but it is hard to let go of my fears and concerns,” Optimus explained, “I am trying, but…forgive me if I do not meet expectations.”

Oshern sighed, his head slumping against the bed. “I know. You mean well…but you don’t have to control every part of her life.”

“I know,” Optimus agreed, “And I am sorry for my actions. You have much of a say in this, and I do not mean to ignore your input.”

“Apology accepted,” Oshern said.

Oshern felt the sheets rustle and the bed sink a little. Ymir had released her hold of him and sat up on her side. She slowly blinked her tired eyes before rubbing them with her hand. Her hair was a complete mess, and there was a bit of drool coming down from her lip. But Oshern realized something: he was free!

“Freedom!” Oshern rolled out of bed and hit the floor, startling Optimus and scaring Ymir awake. Oshern stood up and looked at her concern and messy wife. He grabbed her cheeks and kissed her on the lips.

“Morning!” Oshern greeted, “I just need to go to the bathroom!”

The two watched Oshern rush out the room to the bathroom, causing Ymir to look at Optimus in confusion.

“He just did not wish to disturb your sleep,” Optimus explained.

Ymir realized the implication of Oshern’s actions and couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t mean to do that to him, but he was so thoughtful.

(Definitely a stark contrast to when Ymir was first pregnant. Anyway, 17 is still on the back burner. For that one, I’m going to be going into spoiler territory for the dark timeline and I need to build up some context. But the rest is free game!)

[weirdcultstuff]

It’s like my skin has hardened around me now. If I focus on the bills, on my work, on lunch, on going for a walk, on watching a scary movie, on not thinking about it all, then I’m fine. I used to be hyper vigilant, couldn’t sit with my back to a door, couldn’t talk to men, had to wear this one specific hoodie and hat if I left the house. I felt strong joy often, and intense pain and shame and grief.

I’m not like that anymore. Now I’m a normal automaton. I feel good for a few hours at least, most days. Mornings are good usually, about ten am maybe? When I’m right in the thick of things at work. I’m having trouble sleeping again, I’ll wake up at midnight, then three am, then four thirty, then five. When my alarm goes off at six I’m not awake, it’s like I’m lazy and don’t want to get up but I also just don’t care that I want to stay in bed, so I don’t. I get up, get dressed, drink water, go to work.

I worry about normal things, and it is worry. I feel that anxious feeling in my chest when I think about bills, my career, fixing the car, going to the doctor. It’s like a micro dose of dread every few hours. I try not to think about it. And mostly I’m fine. I can think to myself, “my heart rate sped up, it’s probably the coffee. Just wait it out. Play a different podcast, take some breaths, it’ll pass.” And it does.

I get angry now, which is frickin weird. I have a short temper, not on the outside-I don’t act angry, I’m not mean to my coworkers or anything, but I feel anger in my head every few days when something happens that really slows me down or gets in my way, annoys me. My vision does that little skippy thing and I always want to roll my eyes at myself for being such a child about things.

And the rest of the time I’m fine. Normal. I’m not depressed. I eat my vegetables, I watch shows with my girlfriend, I go to work every single day except the weekends and on the weekends I rest and do chores around the house.

I worry about my parents now, they’re getting older. I can see it in their texts in the family chat. More health issues, more mishaps. My grandparents are getting too old, maybe I’ll never see them again? I teared up just typing that. Mostly I don’t think about them all, and that’s very intentional. I’ll sob cry if I do, and it won’t stop for a long time. It never resolves, I don’t feel better afterwards, I’ve done the therapy things and I’ve written it out and I’ve tried just crying until I wear out but those things don’t work. There’s no way to fix it, so I just don’t go there. I text them back about once a week, and that’s about it. Just send cropped photos of my life. Here’s some food I ate, here’s a picture of a tree, what’s the weather like there? (Please don’t die.)

Enough thinking about that.

Mostly I’m very normal now. It’s weird when I run into people who are Christian or one of my siblings says something super fundamentalist Christian online. It’s like, “oh yeah, people still believe that stuff. They actually believe it, it’s not just a story or a game. Weird.” And then I feel disconnected from them. I used to feel connected, like I understood where they were coming from and could relate to them even if I was somewhere else. Now I just feel somewhere else. I’m like, “that’s weird of you to praise god that you didn’t get more hurt than you just did. Also very weird to be talking seriously about having children before you’re even twenty. But okay. Couldn’t be me lol.” But like it was me once, I was like that. It just doesn’t feel like it anymore. If I go there in my mind, I probably won’t function anymore. And functioning is all there is, in the end. So I function.

I’m always functioning and it feels like each day is just a repeat. It’s fall though, time passes. Wild. Anyway, this whole post looks kind of bleak but I promise most of the time I don’t feel bleak. Most of the time I feel good, some of the time I feel anxious, every few days I get impatient over something which makes me feel angry, and occasionally I have a crying spell because I think too much about my family. That’s pretty much all that happens. And I’ve been doing a lot of listening to horror podcasts and not texting my friends back. So that’s fun.

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

CHAPTER THREE: Lumine Lunae Ductus 

Pairing: Ben Tallmadge x Original Female Character 

Chapter Summary: Ben and Sadie meet on Chapel Street for the exchange of his astronomy notes. 

Author’s Note: Enjoy this fluffy/filler chapter!!! 

Archive of Our Own Link

September 1772

All morning, Sadie stayed up in her room, reading some of Nathan’s old Latin notes to quickly refresh her mind on the dead language. The last words Ben said to her kept ringing in her head, and she couldn’t get the way he looked at her out of her mind. How did he mean that?

It was thrilling to Sadie to be meeting Ben in secret. Thrilling, in a way that, she’d never had to hide anything ever in her life. She was always in her parents’ sight, and they always knew what she was doing, and whom she was hanging with… mostly because Nathan was always with her as a child. Now, Sadie, being a bit older at the ripe age of 17… felt a stronger thirst for independence and for making her own decisions. She agreed to meet Ben simply because she could—and no one could stop her. And no one had to know.

She also had to admit to herself she was curious about Ben—just a little. Part of her was excited to retrieve his notes, the other part was looking forward to seeing him alone. She didn’t want to ponder on it too much—he is her brother’s best friend. That would be foolish of her to think anything other than him simply being nice.

Richard woke up a bit chamomile-hungover, and Sadie was happy to find out he would keep his promise of letting her off the night. That means she can immediately start reading whatever notes Ben gives her instead of waiting for the next morning. Still, Sadie offered to help set up the bar at least, to make up for purposefully making her father sleep.

☆☆☆☆

It felt like the afternoon dragged on. Sadie impatiently waited for it to be four o’clock. It was only an hour until then. She begrudgingly looked at her sewing kit that sit tucked away in the corner of her room. Mostly, because she was forced to use it, taking up time that could instead be used to study. She huffed as she looked at it, crossing her arms in annoyance—just the presence itself offended her. But her mother insisted that Sadie take it with her while working at The Ordinary. Her mother feared she would take up on masculine traits, helping tend a bar, instead of doing more feminine things.

Sadie, reluctantly, got up from bed and moved to the mirror that hung behind her door. Grabbing a brush, Sadie ran it through her soft hair and began to put her hair in a low bun. She reached for her kerchief and tied it carefully over her head.

When Sadie was done doing her hair, she grabbed her long, black cloak and threw it over her shoulders, popping the hood over her head as well. Grabbing her satchel from a hook, Sadie carefully walked downstairs. Her father was prepping the bar.

“Where are ya off to, young lady?” Richard inquired with an eyebrow raised.

Sadie took her hood down. “I’m off to the shops downtown to get some food. Maybe I’ll stop by a friend’s on the way. I still have the night off, right?” Sadie asked, a bit nervous.

“Yes, yes,” Richard answered, “it should be a slow night. Be back for supper. Then, the night’s yours, tot. Stay out of trouble.”

“Thank you, Pa,” Sadie gave her father a kiss on the cheek before going outside and meeting the brisk September day.

Sadie threw the cloak hood over her head as she turned the corner of the street. The closer she got to Chapel Street, the more nervous Sadie felt. It’s not like they were meeting to do anything unlawful—Ben simply was going to give her his astronomy notes. Why did it feel like she was doing something wrong?

When Sadie finally reached Chapel Street, she saw Ben standing in front of a brick building, leaning against the wall. He didn’t have his tricorn on. He was wearing dark slacks and a dark brown coat, which made his lighter, golden features stand out a bit more. His hair was tied back and his hands were behind him, holding an envelope. Sadie, suddenly feeling her heart pick its pace up, continued her way toward him.

Ben looked thoughtful, Sadie observed. He was patiently looking to his left. Sadie wondered what was on his mind. She wondered if he, too, felt nervous and felt as if something were wrong with this. If it were nothing, they wouldn’t have spoken in secret last night. If it were nothing, Sadie wouldn’t be hiding this from her brother—and he, his best friend.

Sadie quietly approached Ben, not wanting to startle him. When she was just about to be next to him, she took her cloak’s hood down and tapped Ben on the shoulder. He did get startled, and Sadie giggled softly, as Ben tried to compose himself and placed a hand over his chest.

“Sorry,” Sadie mumbled with a smile, “I thought I’d be too early, but turns out you are. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“It’s all right,” Ben replied with a sheepish smile, “I didn’t wait long at all.” Ben, for a moment, took in Sadie’s appearance. Perhaps it was the dim lighting of the tavern, but now, Ben felt like he could see her every feature under the afternoon sun. Her hair was lightly golden brown, completely opposite of Nathan’s blonde. Two strands of her hair framed her heart-shaped face, and it was hard to deny the resemblance to her brother since Sadie also had prominent cheekbones, but softer and—lovelier, was the word Ben settled on. Her eyes were a deep chestnut, and Ben felt Sadie holding his gaze carefully. Mesmerized, Ben almost forgot why he was there.

“Oh, here are my astronomy notes,” Ben revealed the envelope he was holding behind his back. Sadie looked down and smiled at the small package. It was then Ben noticed the satchel across Sadie’s chest. She unclipped the bag open before taking the envelope from Ben’s hands. Ben watched her closely as she placed the notes carefully in her bag and clipped it again.

Sadie met his eyes and Ben instantly smiled, pleased that he was the reason for her smile. Well, his notes, he supposed.

“Thank you so much Ben,” Sadie feted, curtsying her long skirt a bit. Ben bowed slightly forward to the young Hale.

“My pleasure,” Ben replied. He smiled at her sweetly, and Sadie threw the hood of her cloak over her head again, to hide the rose in her cheeks.

Sadie couldn’t wash the feeling of disappointment off her chest—but, why? This was all she came here for. There was nothing else to be said or done, and Sadie should be on her way, but she lingered in Ben’s presence—and it didn’t seem he was in a rush either. Not knowing the right words, Sadie took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I better be on my way back,” Sadie uttered arduously.

“Alright, then,” Ben reacted. How was he the top in his literature class but now fumbled with his words? Ben mentally slapped himself in the face, unsettled by the way Sadie’s presence made him so unsure of himself.

Sadie turned on her heel and began to walk up the path she had come down. And Ben, stood there, watching as she walked farther and farther away. And now, finally, Ben found the words he wanted to say. He should’ve told her that his notes on the moon phases were his favorite, but if anything was illegible, he would be happy to rewrite them more clearly as his handwriting gets sloppier the faster he writes. There was also a section for planets which he thought Sadie might really enjoy—when did his words escape him?

And why did he feel a sort of tugging at his chest, the farther Sadie walked up the path, closer to her destination but farther away from him? Just as her shrinking figure was about to turn the corner, Ben couldn’t stop the shout from his mouth.

“Sadie, wait!” He called.

Sadie immediately stopped in her tracks, turning around to see Ben shuffling up the path toward her. Sadie cocked an eyebrow, curious why Ben had called her name so urgently. When he finally caught up, Sadie could see the red in his cheeks from walking so fast. She squinted her eyes at him, finding a bit of humor in his awkwardness.

“Are you—working the tavern tonight?” Ben asked her.

Sadie, taken aback by his question, repositioned her stance so she was fully facing Ben. She shook her head softly.

“No, actually. I’m not,” Sadie answered.

“Well,” Ben began, but suddenly uneasiness filled his chest. What was he thinking? This was his best friend’s younger sister—two years younger, to be exact, and he was about to go out on a limb with his next few words. Ben looked away for a moment, fighting with himself, but if there’s one thing about Ben Tallmadge, it was he did, what he wanted, simply because he could.

“There’s a section in my notes on the phases of the moon. Have you—have you ever been to the planetarium at Yale?” Ben asked, beginning to catch his breath again.

Sadie, completely engaged in his question, shook her head. “No, I haven’t even stepped foot on the campus.”

“Well, if you are… comfortable with it, I would love to show you the planetarium and see what the moon phase will be tonight. There’s a telescope in there, and it would give us a great view of the moon,” Ben offered to her. By the look on Sadie’s face, he knew it was a yes.

“Absolutely! Oh my—are you sure? Will we be allowed?”

Ben grinned, shrugging his shoulders a little. Sadie should’ve known better—anything that Nathan and his friends ever did could never be allowed. Did they do those things anyway? Certainly. And Sadie, despondent about having some sort of schooling experience, was going to say yes at any opportunity that presented itself—without question.

Ben would figure out the why behind his offer later. At face value, he truly wanted to help Sadie and offer her a chance at experiencing something at Yale, and if he could do that, then why not? But there was no denying that below the surface Ben was curious about Sadie and wanted to get to know her more. There was nothing wrong with having a friendship with her. A friendship he knew he would have to keep a secret, however.

“It’s not technically allowed, but hardly anyone is ever there late at night. I’ll make sure we are not seen,” Ben assured her, his blue eyes boring into Sadie’s. The thrill, Sadie’s thoughts from before echoed in her mind—this was the thrill she had been seeking her entire life.

Sadie nodded, accepting Ben’s invitation. “Shall we meet here again and—oh, how will I get back home?”

Ben couldn’t believe she would ask a question like that, “of course, I will see you home, Sadie. It’s too late for you to be out by yourself.” And your brother would have me by my neck if anything happened to you.

“Well, alright then. I’ll meet you here at—“

“11 o’clock. That’s when the moon is the brightest, making it perfect for viewing,” Ben told her.

Sadie nodded. And with that, she was off back to the tavern.

☆☆☆☆

The walk to Yale with Ben was quick, and Sadie trailed closely behind him on the streets as he lead the way to the campus. The closer Sadie got to Yale, the more stunned she felt as she saw the building in all its grandeur. Her eyes widened at the sight of the building. A few candles lit up some windows, and the streetlights gave the building a soft glow. It was surreal to be right in front of her dream school, and not see it only through her bedroom window a few blocks down.

“This way,” Ben whispered as he lead her to a side door of the building. Sadie quickly entered the door, Ben, right behind her. He shut it carefully and nodded to the wooden steps in front of Sadie.

“Up that way. I’m right behind you,” Ben whispered. Sadie, with her cloak hood on, nodded and began to ascend the steps. There were about five flights of stairs they had to walk until reaching the planetarium.

Sadie was beginning to get tired when finally, she heard Ben say that this was their stop. Ben leads the way down a hallway. Sadie looked outside the gigantic windows in this hall. She saw The Ordinary tavern as she passed by, and she smiled to herself. So that’s what it looks like from here. It was nice to be on the opposite side for once. For so long, Sadie had only dreamed of coming into the Yale building, and never had the chance to go inside. But now, because of Ben, she was here. Besides giving her his notes, she was thankful for that alone.

“Here we are,” Ben stated, talking at a normal volume now. He held the wooden door open for her and Sadie stepped inside the room, and gasped immediately.

If she thought the windows in the front were huge, they were nothing compared to the windows here. It was like they stretched from the bottom of the floor all the way to the ceiling, and even curved as they reached the top. Sadie pushed her hood off and looked at the ceilings with her mouth slightly open. She could feel Ben’s presence right behind her. He chuckled.

“That was my reaction when I saw this room for the first time, too,” Ben stated. Walking past her, Ben went to the front of the room and took a sheet off of what was revealed to be a telescope.

“Viola,” Ben whispered, adjusting the telescope and tilting it a bit. Sadie, still mesmerized by the view, walked toward Ben.

He was focused, looking through the lens of the telescope. Sadie watched as his hands fidgeted with the outside settings. She watched carefully as the veins in his hands became more prominent, and how gentle he was with his fingers as he touched the knobs. Sadie felt herself staring at his hands a bit long. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Ben pulled back and saw that Sadie was a bit startled.

“Um,” Ben cleared his throat, “the notes. Did you bring them?”

“Oh, yes,” Sadie answered, shuffling through her bag. “I got a chance to read a good chunk. You have such nice handwriting, Ben. Uhm,” Sadie shuffled through the papers and Ben watched in amusement. “If I am correct, tonight’s moon is a waning crescent,” Sadie stated.

Ben nodded, “that, it is. Come over here,” he gently urged with a nod of his head.

Sadie, following his command, walked over and stood in front of the telescope. Ben stood back slightly but leaned forward.

“All you do is, peep your eye in that hole—“

“I think I know how to look through a lens, Benjamin,” Sadie chided, giving Ben a smirk. He blushed, unsure if it was because of the use of his full name, or if he was slightly embarrassed he might have offended her intelligence. “But I do need help with how to focus it,” Sadie continued. Ben, perking at her inquiry, almost made a move to help, but stopped.

“May I? You can look through, but I will guide your hands… if that’s all right,” Ben slowly asked her. Sadie, thinking nothing of it, nodded.

“Of course.”

She slightly bent over to meet the lens and held her hands out for Ben to guide. She thought at first it would be a simple tap here or there, but when she felt Ben’s chest graze her back, and his arms hover over hers, Sadie felt her heart grow ten times its size. But, trying to play it nonchalantly, Sadie focused on the dark sky and held her breath. He placed his right hand over hers and moved it to the front of the scope.

“Now,” his voice was close to her ear, and it nearly sent shivers down her spine. “Let me know when you see the moon.” Ben gently swiveled the telescope with her hand. As he did this, he placed his left hand on top of her and motioned for her to twist a side knob.

“There!” Sadie exclaimed, seeing a blurry, white blob. “But it’s not focused.”

“Twist the knob until it is,” Ben whispered. With her left hand, Sadie kept twisting it until suddenly, the moon looked like she was looking it right in the face. By her gasp, Ben knew that she had focused on it. He smiled to himself, enjoying her raw reactions to things he had grown used to now. It made him appreciate the opportunity he has had, but at the same time, his heart went out to Sadie and for that matter other young women, who have been robbed of this opportunity.

“Lumine lunae ductus,” Ben whispered, this time, intentionally in her ear.

Sadie slowly turned back, her shoulders hitting Ben’s chest. He locked eyes with her for a moment, startled by the closeness of their faces. He could truly see all her features now. Sadie, breaking the slightly tense moment, smiled.

“Guided by the light of the moon,” she translated, her eyes sparkling from the moonlight. Ben nodded with a smile.

“Precisely,” he answered.

After a moment, Sadie turned back to the telescope as Ben now stood completely, watching her. He almost regretted inviting her here—it wasn’t his place to offer her experiences. Nathan was doing that already by letting her have his notes. Earlier, on the way to the planetarium, he grew more guilty for going behind his friend’s back with each step. Regretful, and thinking that maybe this was a mistake, Ben almost swore he’d never invite her out again. But seeing the look of pure delight on Sadie’s face from seeing the moon—made the risk all worth it.

“Waning crescent,” Sadie said aloud. “Now, a full moon must be quite the sight with this. I can’t believe how close the moon looks, and how beautiful and breathtaking it is. Your turn,” Sadie pulled back from the telescope and looked at Ben with eyes as big as the moon. Ben found it thoughtful of her to offer him a chance to look—he had done this plenty of times before. Tonight was for Sadie. But to appease her, Ben bent down as she stepped away.

He smiled as he looked through the lens—the sight of it really never gets old.

Sadie plopped her bag on a random wooden table and began to spread out Ben’s notes. Ben still looking through the telescope, now moving it around to look at the stars, felt that Sadie wasn’t standing behind him anymore. He moved away from the lens to see her reading his notes. He walked over to the side of the room to light a lantern and bring light to her.

She caught his eye and smiled as a thank-you as he set the lantern down.

“This is truly astounding information,” Sadie said aloud. She pointed to his drawing of the phases of the moon. “And these—the constellations—must be so beautiful to look at by the ocean. I knew the stars had a pattern, but I didn’t know their names or how to find them all,” Sadie thought aloud. Ben nodded.

“I agree. They are definitely more beautiful by the shore. You can see them even without the telescope,” Ben replied. “It won’t be hard to draw them all out.”

For a short while, even though Sadie read through his notes already, Ben still guided her through them. They both eventually found chairs to sit in as Ben pointed to different pages of his notes. The constellations, the moon phases, the planets—Ben carefully explained his notes in more detail than what was written, and Sadie wished she had brought her own notepad and quill to write down what he was saying. It was insightful, and the way Ben took his time to explain everything to her kept Sadie engrossed. Not to mention that Ben had a soothing voice, and when he really got into explaining things, his slightly awkward demeanor seemed to vanish. He spoke with conviction—and he had a little bit of wit.

Sadie crossed her arms and looked at him for a moment. She was feeling a bit sleepy now. She couldn’t help but think Ben looked quite handsome in the soft glow of the lantern. Ben, holding her gaze, didn’t break the contact. It was Sadie who finally did, and she began to collect the papers carefully.

“I appreciate you showing me this place, Ben,” Sadie said truthfully. She placed the papers in a neat stack and slid them over to Ben. Ben slid them right back.

“I want you to have them,” Ben said with soft urgency. “Please.”

Sadie smiled and put them back in her bag. It was almost past midnight now, and Sadie knew it was time to go back before her father knew she was gone. As if reading her mind, Ben offered to walk her home.

☆☆☆☆

When Sadie approached the back door of the tavern, she was just about to walk inside when she turned around quickly to catch Ben before he left. She whispered his name, her hands gripping the door knob. Perhaps it was the late night that made her feel confident, or maybe it was Ben that brought something else out in her.

“Ben,” she whispered. As if on cue, Ben turned around. He was at her disposal. It was strange, the effect she had on him. It was hard to keep his guard up around her.  

“Yes, Sadie?” He wanted to step closer to her, but the reality of Sadie being his best friend’s younger sister, stopped him. I shouldn’t.

“Will you be around?” Sadie asked him.

Ben, feeling like his heart was on a thread and she was the one holding it, nodded his head in response. I shouldn’t be… but I will.

“I will be around. Goodnight, Sadie,” Ben hushed. He turned on his boots and made his way around the tavern, back to Yale.

Sadie, crawling into bed that night, only had a few things on her mind: the image of the waning crescent moon, the tall windows in the planetarium, and Benjamin Tallmadge.

[whentherewerebicycles]

okay that was a great weekend with an excellent and hilariously witty crew of people lol. I am glad I went but also my body is broken from travel and I badly need to be back in my little routines!! 2.5 hours left in this flight then I gotta get the shuttle to my car and drive 40 min home before I can crash in my own bed at last!!! thankfully I have three full days of solitude before bachelorette weekend activities begin which should be enough time to get back on a normal sleep schedule, go for a couple short runs and a few long walks, and cook myself food that includes actual vegetables. I’m still responsible for the pugs which means I’m not fully relaxed (so many dogs and only half of them housetrained 🫠) but it’ll still feel REAL good to be in my own space with nowhere to be.

somewhere between four and nine business days left on the job decision wait. it might be sooner than that as the first round went a lot faster than they originally said, but I’m not going to count on it! I sent a thank you email to the committee earlier today and I feel like I’ve done everything I can to demonstrate that I’m a good fit. if I look deep into my heart I feel like I don’t expect to get the job, mostly because I am my mother’s daughter and that means I assume that if I want something too much the universe will choose to shame/humiliate me for wanting it. fun feelings to unpack someday or never! but I still really enjoyed most of the experience (except the last 24 hours of working on that talk lmao) and I feel like this experience has fully reinforced for me that I just really really REALLY want to get back into a university setting. I don’t find learning & development work interesting enough to find another job in my current field and I can’t stay in my current job—I’m too emotionally checked out. so if I don’t get this job, I’m going to give myself a day or two to be crushed, and then I’m going to turn around and apply for two open positions at the same campus (I really liked the general vibe there apart from the meh feelings about how white the faculty/staff seemed to be). I may also apply for a lower-ranking job in the same office if I feel like they let me down nicely/seem generally positive about me. anyway I know I am doing the thing where I try to preemptively rehearse and rationalize my feelings away so they can’t hurt me when they happen but just let me practice my silly little coping mechanisms okay.

mm ok I think I’m gonna read fanfic because I feel too tired and bleh in my body to do anything more productive than that.

[rust-bearer]

I’m sorry you can’t go a day without being bombarded by zombie au prompts (sort of). I’ve got, like, three or four assignments to finish that’ll determine whether or not I pass this semester, but what matters right now is clogging your inbox with zombie au First Aid content (in other words, technically texaid content with a little Aid here and there.) so, I hope you enjoy the food:

1. National parks are honestly really nice. Campsites, grills (depending on the park), bathroom stalls/showers, spiders the size of your face… First Aid likely realizes by now that he being stalked, but Vortex is at least slightly discreet about it. All hell breaks loose when the two of them end up cornered in one of the bathroom stalls, however. It’ll be hours before the zombie that appeared (seriously, where do they COME from?) will get tired and move on, and it really doesn’t help that Vortex slammed the stall door on the thing’s face. Talk about blunt force trauma—assuming zombies can suffer stuff like that. Well… at least it’s one of the larger stalls First Aid has seen, and Vortex doesn’t make awful company.

2. First Aid has a soft spot for kids. It doesn’t help to have grown up in a too-small house with older and younger brothers, which left him in a weird back-and-forth between being the babysitter and the one babysat, but he’s got a knack for kids. (TW CHILD DEATH) As such, he doesn’t find it all that surprising that the first place he would’ve looked for survivors was the neighboring households and abandoned hospital wards. Between running contamination protocols and watching children skipping down the streets and enjoying the summer sunshine (before everything had gone to shit, that is), First Aid grew accustomed to determining—unfortunately—which children would have been likely to be left behind, whether out of negligence or awful, awful parenting. The old church building he’s managed to hold down as a temporary shelter works well enough, given the spacious areas for children to run and play and plenty of pews for exhausted kids to sleep. Still… when he starts to see the first signs of infection in a young boy from his section of the hospital ward, First Aid gets a taste of the other end of the spectrum that comes with caring for such sweet, innocent beings. It was for the good of the rest of the children, he told himself. But after that night, First Aid didn’t eat or sleep for an entire week. It still haunts him sometimes, still wakes him up at night, the peaceful look on the little boy’s face as he succumbed to wounds First Aid couldn’t even see.

3. He was never all that tech-savvy, but First Aid does miss the Internet. He mostly misses FaceTiming one of his brothers every morning, only for the rest of them to crash the phone call with questions about his job and the weather and his love life (“what do you mean you haven’t been laid in weeks? What you waiting for, Aid??”) and his eating habits and just…. Everything, everything. Sometimes he’ll lay awake at night while the other survivors sleep restlessly about the church, staring at the cracked screen of his cell phone and wishing that somehow, by some miracle, the screen would light up with another incoming voice message from one of his brothers. Any of them, really. He just wants to see their faces one more time, here their voices again.

4. Once he’s managed to get over the shock of living on a post-apocalyptic world, First Aid usually takes thing in stride. He still finds himself breaking down here and there over the crippling realization that his purpose in life and ability to help and heal have been stripped from him in the most painful way, but he deals as best he can. He’s taken pleasure in the small things, like tending to a small (dying) garden in the back of the church building. Once he gets to the farm with Vortex, he’s given a much bigger garden, too, which is… well, it’s nice. He’s never been much of a green thumb, but he can manage to grow a tomato plant that doesn’t look all that deformed! Vortex still laughed at the first harvest he managed to produce, though.

5. Simple things like planning a shopping spree and gathering supplies for the remaining survivors of his town (the numbers are dwindling quickly, which scares him), become less and less stressful over time. Eventually, First Aid even ends up forming a sort of routine with Vortex, who seems to have memorized his shopping patterns to the second and always, always shows up just as First Aid is browsing the granola section. Every time. He usually brings along one of his brothers, discussing some strange plans about gathering fishing line to “harvest the stock from the farm’s pond,” whatever… whatever that means. Well, First Aid doesn’t have much to do in the meantime, so he joins them once he’s gathered his own supplies.

6. Between the remaining survivors of the apocalypse, First Aid (and others) quickly realize that “normal” isn’t ever going to be a thing for them again. After some back and forth, and some intense convincing on his part, he manages to move everyone into Swindle’s the Combaticons’ farm. It’s a tight fit, at first, but the group of them quickly get into a groove of forming their own personal commune, as Swindle so lovingly refers to it. As it seems, there are quite a few old town people who know just enough about hunting, fishing, canning, and personal grooming to teach anyone who doesn’t know. Swindle is rather stubborn at first, preferring to use the remaining supplies he has lying around that used to be considered “high quality,” but once he realizes that the septic tank won’t clean itself and that water purified from iodine is just as safe as bottled water, he begins to warm up to the idea of living off the land.

Hhhhh my brain is tired now, I guess that’s all it’s got. I hope these little ideas give you some more inspiration, assuming you’re not going through a “please god no more zombie au ideas” moment, and… yeah, I’ll be back with more sometime soon! Or not, I don’t know yet lol.

I love seeing the zombie au stuff it fuels me. It’s just so interesting to think about. Just thinking about everything you own in your house right now, then suddenly you don’t- First Aid might be able to go back to his home, maybe not. Maybe someone else is living there now. Dying there. Every picture on the wall and nicknack is like a ghost story, except the ghost is still living, wandering around, hungry.

And it also helps that swindle and the others provide a different perspective to everything than what you the viewer might be seeing. Maybe he even makes a racket selling candles- everything probably reeks of death and decay, but for today only, you can buy a fine quality candle that definitely wasn’t taken from some dead schmucks house. Just give me about… 3 days of food or so.

I do kind of see First Aid is being a pediatric doctor/nurse (still not sure what route I want to go). So he’s going to be the kind of guy who insists on taking care of children- in a time where it literally is a net negative to do so. Kids cry, BABIES cry, crying attracts zombies- and they eat so much too, and can’t DO much. Yet First Aid is the guy who ran back to the hospital after he realized all the neonatal babies were still likely there, or what about all the other patients-

But a hospital is ground zero for infections. And it’s almost free food for zombies, immobile people who can’t even defend themselves. Maybe First Aid finds something. Maybe he’s too late. Maybe he’s just in time to see the horror. It’s all very interesting!

[xxruinaxxmcu]

Jack Thompson X Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (previous book, previous chapter)

A/N: Tagged people, could you please let me know IF you were tagged??

Chapter 17

When Y/N woke up the next morning, Jack had already gone.

Was she surprised? No. Was she amused? Also, no.

She was at the SSR office by 9, a perfectly reasonable time to start the day. Unless your name was Jack, that is. The first agent who she encountered was Agent Goldberg.

“Morning, Agent Goldberg”, she said, giving him a nod, “anything happened yesterday?”

“We got sent some testimonies from the SSR office in Chicago for the men they apprehended”, Goldberg informed her, “I gave the files to the Chief an hour ago.”

“I see”, she said, raising an eyebrow. Testimonies were good, of course, but they weren’t necessarily time-sensitive. So, it turned out, it really didn’t mean Armageddon to leave for one night.

“Late night?”

She shot Goldberg an offended look: “Agent Goldberg, if you want to tell me I look tired today, just say it straight to my face!”

“What?”, he first looked confused, but when he understood what she meant he had wanted to say, he looked rather embarrassed: “No, I didn’t mean it like that!”

Now, Y/N looked confused: “What?”

“You look – you look how you always look”, Goldberg replied a bit awkwardly.

“You mean Thompson?”, she raised an eyebrow and huffed, “honestly, I don’t even try anymore. By this point, he runs on caffeine. Which reminds me – I guess I shouldn’t be late for my first coffee round of the day.”

After serving all the regular argents roaming around in the main hall, she made her way to the bullpen. The blinds were drawn, which normally indicated the chief wanted privacy, but she argued that A) that didn’t apply to his fiancée and B) didn’t apply to his coffee delivery, and given she combined both, that was grounds to ignore it.

“Morning, Chief”, she said when pushing the door open, seeing Thompson hover the files that, she assumed, Goldberg had given to him previously.

He huffed in acknowledgement, staring intently on the documents before him.

“Someone’s in a peachy mood”, she commented as she began filling up his coffee cup. “What, you lost the ability to say thank you?”

He looked over to the cup she had placed before him. “Thanks.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I hit you in your sleep or what’s bitten you?”

“It’s nothing.” Four words in total – that was very few for a person usually never shy of a dry sarcastic comment. Hell, he didn’t even tell her that she should knock before entering. She was just about to point that out to him when his nose started twitching, he fumbled out a handkerchief from his coat and sneezed into it. Y/N didn’t need to see his face to know that this was just the odd sneeze anyone can have now and then, the handkerchief looked used. But yes, his red nose would have made the gathering of such obscure clues obsolete.

“Bless you.” Her voice was tauntingly even, because she knew he knew what she was thinking. I told you so.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know, if you had been able to speak when you were shot, I’m pretty sure you would’ve said that, too”, Y/N commented dryly.

He rolled his eyes at her, which – in hindsight – was a mistake, because that meant direct eye contact with someone who was not having his crap today. He had the misfortune of getting rather light-sensitive eyes when having a cold, which caused them to be watery. “You don’t seriously compare the sniffles to a gunshot wound.”

“No, that would be unfair to the gunshot wound, as the fact that opening the door to a stranger is less directly linked in getting shot than running on three hours of sleep for several weeks is to a shit immune system”, she shrugged.

“You done with your lecture?”, he huffed, returning to short phrases because he could hear his voice getting hoarse.

“Depends”, she replied, “are you done being stupid?”

“It’s a cold”, he muttered, “And we have work to do.”

“Yes”, she agreed, “that, we do. I can read through their testimonies, though. I’ll write the report, hand that to you and do the filing. My filing’s better than yours anyways.”

He was about to open his mouth to reply, which was cut short by another sneeze.

Y/N decided that she’d switch gears, from convincing him with pure sarcasm with an appeal to reason. “Come on Jack, this is pointless! I can take care of this. And if something should occur that’s urgent, I’ll call you back in.”

He was not going home because of a cold – it was a cold, not the freaking black death!

“I’m about to actually get mad”, Y/N announced with a sigh, “I didn’t say anything the last weeks because I know you, and you wouldn’t have listened, because that’s just nothing you do, right? But so help me God, just to the reasonable thing now. You have a team of more-or-less capable agents out there, and I will read the testimonies. I’ll clock out at five and tell you about them.” She picked up the file, lowered herself down to his desk, putting her apartment key on the table and staring him down: “End of discussion.”

He was about to reply that they didn’t have a discussion in the first place, but then she had already left his office. He contemplated ignoring her, after all, he was the Chief, but then, he really didn’t want to actually make her angry. So there he sat, debating his options, only realising after a solid minute that he had been robbed of the task of reading the testimonies. Hence, he was just sitting in his office doing nothing. After the next bout of sneezing had subsided, he surrendered – whether to his own stubbornness or Y/N’s order, he didn’t know. Probably both.

……………..

“Did you see the Chief?”, Agent Ramirez asked Agent Goldberg, who only shrugged.

“I saw him today morning, but not ever since. Ask L/N, she talked to him after me.”

Y/N had heard their interaction from afar, and looked at Ramirez: “He had personal business to attend to. Why?”

“I had his report ready”, Ramirez shrugged, “I’ll just put it in his office, then. Will he be back, later?”

“I don’t know”, Y/N lied, “didn’t say.”

She knew Jack well enough to know that it was hard enough for him to know he was sick, but he really didn’t want others to know, too. So she decided in his stead to sell a load of bull to Ramirez. The day was quiet, and Y/N had enough time to go through the testimonies thoroughly. Many of them told similar stories – especially those members that had been in the Arena Club for some while. That it had started as a conglomerate of influential men who wanted to tilt the odds in their favours, but during the war, and in the years after, some parts of the Club started to grow more interested in weaponry and the prospect of translating political and financial power into force. Most of them didn’t mention HYDRA, and most of them had no idea what the Council of Nine was, what they had been up to with Zero Matter, or what the newest interests of the more radical faction of the Clubs were. It seemed to be structured like a crime family, if Y/N was honest. The lower members had no idea what the higher-ups were deciding, even if they still participated in the execution of the crimes. They also seemed to have no idea who Mr. Keller was.

When the clock hit 17:00, Y/N gathered up her things, the reports from the agents that they had left on Thompson’s desk and said goodbye to the men from the nightshift. Then, she made her way to her place, as she assumed, given Jack had taken the keys she had placed on his desk before walking out on him, she’d find him there.

With a spare key, she opened the door and was greeted by silence. Given his briefcase was on the floor, she still knew that she had guessed right.

Walking towards the kitchen, past her living room, she huffed. ‘What an idiot.’ He could’ve taken the bed. It wasn’t like she was there to be annoyed at it, anyways. But at least he did fall asleep – although the boredom of not having any work to do might have helped. She decided to let him sleep whilst entering the kitchen. She had learnt to cook at an early age, and if she had time to do it, she found it a rather relaxing pastime. Though lately, that rarely happened, so it was a welcome change.

“Y/N?”, she eventually heard from the living room.

“I doubt a burglar would just hop in the kitchen to prepare dinner.”

She didn’t even need to be in the same room as him to feel him rolling his eyes.

She brought him his dinner, which was a chicken soup. When looking at it, he raised his eyebrows: “Is that ma’s recipe?”

“She gave it to me years ago”, Y/N confirmed with a smile, “must’ve been around 1938 or so.”

She decided to give him the rundown of the day’s events at the office while he ate, from the testimonies and the reports from the other agents. “All in all, things were quiet though. Also, I don’t think anyone knew what happened to you. Maybe Goldberg has some suspicion, but when Ramirez asked about you, I said you had personal business to attend to.”

He snorted, which didn’t really work that well with a stuffy nose, so he resorted to blowing it right after. “You still use that line?”

“It worked in high school, it worked at university”, she shrugged with a grin, “and somehow, our agents aren’t that much brighter than the guys we studied with. So why fix what ain’t broke?”

“Those things seem like lightyears away.”

Y/N pulled a face: “Do they, though? I mean, of course a ton has changed. The world has changed. We went to war, and we didn’t come back the way we left. Back then, we fought over who got the better marks. But when it comes down to it? We’re still the idiots from New York. We just save the country for a living, now.”

“You make us sound way cooler than we are”, he grinned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“What, you saved the city from poisonous gas. You rid the world of highly volatile space goo. We took down a Soviet master assassin. And now we’re taking down a club of power-hungry social animals with connections to HYDRA – don’t know what your standards of cool are, but I’d say we rank in the top ten percent, at least”, she tilted her head, “Especially given we don’t have the advantage of being near immortal like Steve Rogers was. We’re just some random people that ended up being trained in war and unable to let go when coming back.”

“When d’you realise you’d not come back the same?”, he asked earnestly, despite everything, very observant to her facial expression.

“I don’t know”, she said truthfully, “at some point, I just knew. Thought of home, of my friends that worked at the home front. I don’t want to diminish their work, they made ours possible. But I also knew that they couldn’t relate to our experience. They felt robbed of their youth – wanted to experience that joy again. I suppose I realised that even when I would wake up in peace again, I still would never be able to forget about what peril looks like. I wouldn’t be able to revert back to the silliness of a life that has been untouched by combat. By seeing death day in, day out. And not just to see the dead, but to see… see death. The men torn apart by bullets and shrapnel, to hear the cries of the dying. I suppose that is an experience no one can relate who hasn’t been there, even those who had lost sons and brothers across the world.”

“How did you end up as a spy, anyways? I get how Carter ended up with the SSR and Project Rebirth, but how did you end up in Germany?”

Y/N leaned back: “That’s a long story. And probably not one to fall asleep to.”

“I’ve slept the entire afternoon”, he groaned, “I can spare one hour.”

Y/N gave him a long look, but quickly realised that just how uncompromising she had been in the morning, he was now.

“Right”, she sighed, “1942, spring, I was being taught by the SOE for codebreaking, learning German for that. I picked up the language quite quickly, probably helped studying it a little at university. During that time, they were debating sending in English agents to support the French spying missions on the ground, especially since they couldn’t support the allies on European territory with soldiers. They recruited from their own ranks, but they weren’t that successful.” She laughed dryly: “Maybe didn’t help that we knew just how high the fatality rate was for the French.”

“They asked you? Even though you were American?”

Y/N shook her head: “No. I started pressing my superior to recommend me. I guess I managed to annoy him enough to want to get rid of me. He did eventually, so I was offered the position. I was trained in hand-to-hand combat, weapon’s training, and in June 1942, I was in Germany. We managed to get behind enemy lines by parachuting into the countryside. I knew where my first target was stationed, I knew how he looked, I just had to establish contact. So I started working in a bar that was in the area, and guessed he’d show. Given all the talk about not giving into one’s urges, some of the ‘elite’ sure indulged a lot in everything from alcohol to other pleasures. That’s why the SOE didn’t only want male spies. After all, all our targets were men, too.”

Jack was visibly uncomfortable by what she was insinuating, and she knew his mother would be, too.

“Don’t worry”, she said silently, “In most cases, I was able to kill them much before that. But the fact is, there is almost no better place to kill someone than if you’re alone in a room with them and they fully trust you.” She remained silent for a while, then added: “The key was to keep moving. Keep a low profile. We knew we weren’t allowed to be captured. They would’ve tortured us specifically for the codes to break the English communications. That’s why the SOE had given us the means to a quick death, and we always had to carry it on us.”

“You carried cyanide?”

Y/N nodded with a flat smile: “Yeah. I didn’t fancy to end up in Ravensbrück, either.”

He nodded quietly. “We lost a few men to captivity. Not Marines, they were from the Army Air Force, near Iwo Jima. They weren’t put into a POW camp. They were eaten.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What??”

“Just months before we landed. Didn’t really help the mood. They tried to keep it quiet, but people talk. And one guy survived, 19 years old, I think. Bush, or something.”

Y/N had to gag at the thought of that experience. War was inhumane by definition. And the Second World War more so than, perhaps, any other conflict before. Human experiments, genocide, mass executions, the collateral damage. But there as something distinctly immoral about cannibalism – not necessarily ‘worse’ than any other murder, but she hadn’t heard that story before – and it was repulsive. “I’m so sorry for that.” She knew just how much that must have affected anyone who then had to go into battle against the same enemy that had just devoured some of one’s friends. The hate, and the fear that this would trigger within some, it was hard to put into words.

“What was the first thing you did when you came home?”

Y/N looked up, smiling so that she wouldn’t look sad. “I didn’t come home for a long time after having returned to America.” She looked at the ceiling: “But the first thing I did in the US was seeing my parents. Well, I thought I’d go see my parents. I hadn’t heard my mother had died in my absence. My dad had remarried, and was livid when I showed up. I guess he was just hurt that I had left him, and my mum, without saying a word. I knew they were against me going, that’s why I didn’t say anything. Can’t fault him for being angry, though.”

“He can’t stay angry at you volunteering, though”, he objected before sneezing.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks”, he said before continuing, “But like I said. He better suck it up at some point. You should tell him just how valuable your work was.”

Y/N laughed, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, how do you think that’ll go? ‘Hi Dad, we haven’t spoken in three years, but please stop being angry with me, I did good over there, you wanna see the record of men I killed in an array of ways? Pretty please?’ Cause I know my dad, and he’ll kick me out the house.”

“Then I’ll talk to him.”

“Then you risk getting your jaw dislocated again, and to be honest, I don’t want to risk that, either”, she grinned.

“I managed to hold my own against trained agents and assassins, I’m sure your old man won’t knock me down”, he joked, “he might not have been my biggest fan at university, but I doubt I had many of those.”

“I’m sure he’s happy with his new wife”, Y/N said, “Mariah. Should’ve seen her face when I showed up. As if she had seen a ghost.” She huffed. “But you know, it might have made starting over easier. Hell, it made the job overseas easier. So many were worried about their parents, and I didn’t have to worry. And the last time we spoke, they made it pretty clear that by doing something like this, I was crossing a red line for them.”

“You say that, but for most, family was what made them continue the fight. To see them again. You make it sound like you didn’t have that at all.”

She pressed her lips together. “Of course I did. But it was all hypothetical. I wanted to see my friends again, the ones from America, the ones I met in England. But they all went to war, too. Would they still be alive when I returned? Thinking about that just made me anxious. So I tried not to do it often.”

Granted, Y/N had thought about home a lot when abroad. But not necessarily about her parents. It had been a blessing and a curse, as it had given her strength to push on, but also, it terrified her. She wanted to come back alive. But she didn’t want to return alone. And up until early 1946, she had no idea if Jack had survived. Then, she read about him in a paper because of the entire Navy Cross thing, before seeing him at the SSR shortly after.

“I nearly had a heart attack”, she said, realising that he had no way of following her train of thought, so she added, “when I read a story about New York servicemen that were awarded medals for their valour in war. Most of them had ‘deceased’ next to their names. Then, I saw yours. That split-second it took me to realise that you were not, I’ll never forget that.”

He couldn’t help but to grin.

“Idiot”, she remarked, shaking her head.

“How’d you end up with Peggy recommending your for the SSR? She’s not the most sociable person with a bunch of friends, how did you even know her?”

“No”, Y/N agreed, “I met Peggy overseas in England. We were taught codebreaking together, even shared a room for some time. She told me a bit about her upbringing, I told her a bit about mine. When she continued her job at the SSR and started working at the New York office, it didn’t take her that long to realise that chances were quite high you and I know each other given our similar age, identical time at the same university, and studying the same course. She wasn’t your biggest fan, so she asked me to apply. And, I suppose, lay in a good word with Dooley.”

Jack raised an eyebrow: “You told her about university?”

Y/N laughed at his question: “What are you insinuating? That I told her about your records of barfights?” She shook her head: “No, of course not. I would never infringe your reputation without prior consent, Chief.”

She stood up, collecting the dishes. “And for heaven’s sake, take the bed for the night. You’re way too tall for my sofa.”

“But then you can’t sleep in the bed, otherwise I’ll make you sick, too!”

She rolled her eyes with a laugh: “Jack Thompson, I’ve slept on the ground of an abandoned warehouse in minus degrees Celsius. I’ll survive a night on my sofa in a well-heated, dry room. So you better move.”

……………

Y/N was truly impressed the next morning when she was the first to leave the apartment, with Jack still asleep. She could maintain the lie for a day longer without much hassle, and she knew McKinley was back in the office today. As much as it pained her to tell him that Thompson made him the acting chief during his absence, she knew he was by far the most qualified man for the job – and that second part was, unfortunately, fundamental. He was the best man.

“Did he tell you what happened?”, McKinley asked her, sincerely concerned, and she shrugged.

“Nah, I think it was something with his grandmother. He’s in her eighties, so I guess that comes with age.” ‘Sorry, Gam-Gam for dragging you in this’, Y/N thought to herself before making her way to her station.

Eventually, the phone rang, and Y/N picked up, with her signature line, only to realise the person at the other end of the line was saying it with her, causing her to stop mid-introduction.

“Peggy.”

“Good morning, Y/N, how was Christmas?”

“Good”, she said, “though we’re one man short right now. Thompson’s out of the house.”

“What? Did he get a case?”

“No, no case.”

“Is he alright?”, Peggy questioned irritated.

“Always”, Y/N said, elongating the word enough for Peggy to catch on.

“Ah. Because of alcohol or because of a viral infection?”, her question made Y/N laugh.

“For once, it’s the second.”

“Poor thing”, Peggy remarked sarcastically.

“Careful, if he hears that, he’ll punch you right in the face. Or at least he’ll try”, Y/N said with a grin on her lips, “But what’s the matter? Any update on our candidate?”

“He’s actually doing great”, Peggy remarked, “I… I didn’t expect him to be that much of a thorough asset. Good job for recommending him.”

“I made use of what we had, Peg, if he performs well, then I just got lucky”, Y/N tried to diminish the praise.

“We have a date, Y/N. And a location”, Peggy said, causing Y/N to turn dead-serious and focused.

“January 9th, 14:30, Miami.”

She proceeded to give Y/N the exact address, and Y/N wrote it down without asking further questions.

“We assume it’ll be Keller and seven SSR agents. That’s how many have disappeared in the last weeks without turning up dead.”

“Fantastic, that’s more than we knew for DC”, Y/N remarked sarcastically, “What’s the plan proposed by you and Chief Sousa?”

“Well, given we can’t trust the SSR”, Peggy remarked with audible bitterness, “It will be those that we can, which means Daniel, me, Jack, and you.”

“No to the first one on the list”, Y/N replied, careful not to repeat anything that could give the contents of her call away to any of the agents listening in.

“I know he’s still injured, but otherwise we’re incredibly thin!”

“How about flowers?”

“What??”, Peggy asked, “Flowers?”

“Yes, don’t you want to bring flowers with you?”, Y/N repeated, hopeful that Peggy would get her question the second time around.

For a moment, there was silence. “You mean Rose?”

“Yes.”

“…You’re right, Y/N. But I’m sure Daniel will want to be there, even if only driving the getaway car.”

“I can get behind that”, Y/N said, “Thanks Peggy! I’ll make sure to send for flowers.”

………

The time until D-Day was a blur with the workload only increasing. And Jack really didn’t like their odds – an injured Sousa, himself, Peggy, Y/N, and Rose? Against seven trained SSR agents, and a Nazi? He knew that if he’d complained, he would’ve been accused of misogyny again, but it wasn’t the fact that the men were in the minority that bothered him. Rose had barely any real field experience, and the rest of the crew had self-sacrificing tendencies. That’s what bothered him.

“It’s the best we can muster”, Y/N commented when they congregated in Miami.

“That’s quite the achievement. I could’ve asked Sherman, you know?”

Y/N gave him an unimpressed look: “And tell him what, exactly? Last time, it was communists, that’s fair enough. This time, it’s Nazis. HYDRA. The general public has no idea they’re still out there.”

They met up with the L.A. delegation in a secure location outside the city.

Y/N and Jack entered the building, hearing movement from above. They found them in a room, all together.

When the two of them entered, Y/N could feel everyone face her or Elias. The young scientist stood in the room, a bit awkwardly. But he tried to make the tension go away by smiling at them. “Chief Thompson. Agent L/N. It is good to see you.”

“Thank you for agreeing to do this”, Y/N said sincerely.

He shook his head: “No, no. I said to Agent Carter – it was one thing to support them when they were in power, but now? That means they must be mad. And that they must be stopped by whatever means possible.”

Jack still found the kid rather strange. “Why- don’t you have any sympathy for them? I mean, no offence, but you did grow up in a system defined by their thought.”

“Yes, I did. But I think I lost my faith when in the final stages of the war, the ones who always claimed to have the answers all deserted, escaped the country, or killed themselves. It was a faith, really. Coming here, I saw that politics shouldn’t be about belief”, he said quietly, “and, Chief Thompson, only because I mourn my family does not mean I do not understand that we were not the primary victims. I have no intention on repeating the Dolchstosslegende.”

“Yeah”, Thompson grunted, “You better. I have no intention of sending my kids off to star in ‘the Allies versus Germany, Part 3.’”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, both at his choice of words, and at mentioning the possibility of ever having kids.

“Anyway”, Y/N interrupted their back and forth, “you all know your plan?”

“Yeah”, Sousa nodded, “We briefed all of ours. Who’s gonna take Schmitt?”

Without hesitation, Y/N raised her hand. “Me.” She met the man’s eyes: “If you want, that is.”

“Y/N-“

“Of course”, Elias spoke over Thompson’s interjection.

Y/N turned to Jack, knowing that he didn’t want her to do it. “I’m not planning on dying, Jack. But we need someone who speaks German to shadow him. Means, either Peggy or I will have to, as Sousa’s already taken a bullet from the man. And if the last time, it was team Carter/Sousa that was hit, it’s only fair that now it’s team L/N/Thompson.” She looked at Elias and nodded: “Besides. I owe the kid for ever agreeing to do this.”

“I get that, I do-“

“Just do as Y/N says, Chief Thompson”, Peggy interrupted the next attempt by him to change Y/N’s mind, “if all goes as planned, she’ll only have to take one shot.”

Sousa directly continued, so as to end any chance to prolong the debate: “Alright. Everyone take a bulletproof vest. In personal experience, it could turn out to be useful.”

…………

Their formation was laid out so that Elias would enter the building on his own. Y/N’s route towards the building had been carefully laid out, she had three paths forward, and would decide once they had scouted the area on the day itself to make sure no one saw her coming. Elias and Keller had agreed to meet alone – which had been a lie on both ends. Elias came with the SSR, Keller with his henchmen. But it meant that within the building, which was a one-room warehouse, most likely, no men would be stationed. And if so, only very few, as not to scare the scientist away. Thompson, Peggy and the rest would close in from a distance, after making out the positions of all the agents and eliminating their possibility to interfere with Y/N’s detail to eliminate the threat coming from Keller. Y/N crouched below a window that was sheltered from the vision from others by a rusty garbage container. She had successfully tinkered with the window so that she could push it open gently. She heard the voice of Elias, softly and surprisingly calmly, greeting someone he addressed as Mr. Keller. They naturally spoke in German, but that wasn’t what struck Y/N. There were an additional set of footsteps. However, from previous intercom communications, she had heard that her colleagues had identified the seven rogue agents and had them in sight. Despite having now muted her device, she knew that there was no way in hell they let someone enter.

“Sir, Thomas’ just reported. Nothing unusual, except of a car stationed some miles away southwest.”

Not only did the voice speak in English, but his accent.

He wasn’t American.

He was British.

Y/N managed to glimpse into the room for a fraction of a second. Beside Keller was Elias, but next to Elias was a tall man, blond. ‘Looks remarkably like Jack’, Y/N realised subconsciously, but she was busier to figure out what that meant. Then, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

She had seen his face before.

She was staring at the face of a dead man.

“I thought we agreed on meeting alone, Herr Keller?”

“Don’t worry, Nineteen here is like my shadow. He won’t do anything I don’t tell him to.”

Y/N damned her life. She couldn’t kill his henchmen. Peggy would kill her. She couldn’t kill Michael Carter. She grabbed her communication device, knowing she couldn’t speak. But she could send an emergency signal. Despite no drop of blood having been spilled, this was an emergency.

……………

What the hell was Carter doing with a member of HYDRA? Hell, what was he even doing alive?? He had died before Y/N had even met Peggy – the only reason she knew his face was because of pictures Peggy had shown her. But there was no chance of being wrong, this Michael was definitely Peggy’s brother. And he was definitely fighting for HYDRA. And he was armed to the teeth. Whatever his motives were for doing so, he was certainly the brawns to Keller’s brains. She had intended to go in and ambush Keller, that way she could try to take him into custody. That plan now flew out the window. She had to shoot him and go one-on-one with Carter. And get the kid out of the line of fire.

‘Here goes everything.’

She waited for a few seconds, waiting for them to move into an advantageous position. Then, gunshots ruptured the silence.

‘Dammit’.

“Clear the-“ Keller was about to give an instruction to the blond when Y/N took her shot. The kill was ugly – the opposite of what Hollywood would have made it out to be. It struck him in the neck, blood gushing everywhere as he fell to the ground. Carter drew his gun, pointing at Elias, who was just feet away from the window Y/N had pushed open. She saw the barrel being pointed at the young scientist – and she knew where Carter was aiming. He wouldn’t hit the chest, which would’ve been not a huge issue given he, too, was wearing a bulletproof west. No. He was aiming straight for the head.

It wasn’t a decision she actively took, there was no time to think through options. She leapt through the window, hearing the click of the unloading gun and jumped, pulling Elias to the ground, covering him. She felt a sharp pain in her side, but she managed to ignore it.

“Lauf!”, she yelled, rolling across the floor to break her fall before jumping up, just feet away from the man who was preparing to take the next shot. Just in time, she managed to grab his arm and push it up, causing the next shot to hit the ceiling.

“Stop it”, Carter said calmly, reaching for a knife fixed to his hip, “you’re wasting your time.”

He went after her with his knife, and Y/N must give it to him – his coordination was impressive, as he was trying to free his hand with the gun from his grip, whilst simultaneously assaulting her with a knife. She ducked the blade, pushing against him with her bodyweight. She had to take him out before the others came through that door if he shouldn’t be to die.

“Sorry, Carter”, she grunted, “Gotta do it.” He looked confused, as she suddenly let go of his gun, pulling him towards herself, causing him to lose his footing for a fraction of a second – long enough for her to grab her own gun, spinning it, using it as a club to bash against his temple. She didn’t need more than one try to knock him out. The adrenaline, the fear of failure – as well as the experience she had – resulted in the blow being strong enough for him to fall to the ground like a stone.

Just in time. The door flew open and Peggy and Jack stormed in.

“What the hell happened?”, Jack yelled breathlessly.

“It would appear”, Y/N said dryly, having dropped her weapons to hold onto her bleeding arm, “the dead walk the earth.” She looked at Peggy, who was looking at the man who was lying face down on the ground. “You recognise him, Peg?”

“Recognise who?”, Jack asked irritated, “What the hell is going on?”

“Michael?”, Peggy asked, hardly more than a whisper.

Y/N leaned against the wall behind her, closing her eyes for a second. “Michael Carter. Peggy’s dead brother.”

“Agent L/N, this is all very shocking”, Elias, who had come in with Peggy and Jack said tensely, “But I think it must wait! You are bleeding.”

“What?!”

“Nothing, it hit my arm”, Y/N said dismissively, “Jack, you have to handcuff him. We need to interrogate him.”

“From where I’m standing, we better kill him!”

“Jack, we’re not killing him”, Y/N opposed with finality, “So handcuff him.” She looked at Elias: “You know where Sousa’s car is?”

“Yes, of course!”, he confirmed, “I called them when you told me to run.”

“Great.” She looked at Jack: “Get him to a secure location. I’ll get that stitched up.” She looked to Elias: “Lead the way.”

“Y/N-“

“I’ll be right back there!”, Y/N interrupted Jack before walking off with the scientist.

………..

“Peggy’s brother?”, Daniel asked confused, “What- how is that even possible?”

“I have no idea”, Y/N shrugged with the non-injured arm, “but we’ve seen crazier.”

Daniel huffed. On the way to the nearest hospital, there was a moment of silence in the car.

“Miss”, Elias began, “You… that bullet…”

Y/N shook her head: “Please. I put you up to this. The reason I wanted to come with you was because you wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t suggest you. You’re my responsibility. So of course, I’d take the bullet for you. A shot in the arm is much better than one in the head.”

He fidgeted with his hands. “I… was it all about responsibility, or because of redemption?”

She gave him a dry smile: “Kid, there is nothing I can possibly do or say to redeem myself to you.”

He shook his head. “No, there is nothing you can do or say to me that brings back Konrad. That much is true. But I do forgive you, Miss L/N. I hope you do, too.”

Y/N didn’t know if it was the pain from the gunshot wound, or if it actually meant that much to her. But she nearly cried. With a smile, she looked at the young man.

“Thank you, Elias. Truly.”

……………..

“Miss, how does a woman like you end up on the other side of a barrel?”

Y/N stared at the doctor who had stitched up the gashing wound on her left upper arm. There it was again ‘a woman like you’.

“What do you think, Dr. O’Brien?”, she asked back, eyebrow raised.

“I have no idea, that’s why I asked.”

“I am afraid, sir, that if I were to disclose my motives, the US government would arrest me for spilling secrets”, she replied sacrosanct, “and you, too, for knowing things no civilian should.”

It served its purpose to make the doctor shut up.

“You’ll have to be careful for a few weeks. You were lucky, the penetration wasn’t deep enough to fragment the bone, but it could still result in the stitches opening up again”, he said instead.

“That’s to be expected”, Y/N said, “Don’t worry, I got the brief of what to do with gunshot wounds back in 1942. I remember the drill.”

She leapt up from the operating table and gave him a handshake: “Thanks, sir. Have a good day!”

Y/N opened the door, walking into the waiting room outside.

“For hell’s sake, Y/N!”

A bit startled by the presence of Jack in the waiting room who jumped up from his seat as soon as she had opened the door.

“Geez, hello to you, too, J-“ Her sarcastic remark was cut short by being pulled towards him as he hugged her.

“I thought we agreed to not do that again!” Y/N realised he tried to sound ironic, but mostly to overshadow his concern.

“Yeah, it wasn’t necessarily on my to-do list”, Y/N agreed dryly, “but I couldn’t have killed Michael Carter! Peggy would’ve killed me!”

Jack inspected her bandage, frowning.

“How’d you even recognise him? Didn’t he die way before you came to England?”

“Pictures. Peggy showed me pictures of him”, Y/N replied silently, “did he wake up?”

“Carter’s Sousa’s detail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Right. Come on, cowboy, we gotta go assist, then.”

“Don’t you want to – I don’t know, take five minutes?”

She grinned: “Do you think my stitches look better in five minutes? Besides, if the fella’s handcuffed, I doubt he’ll swing his knife at me, again.”

Jack sighed, realising that convincing her to stay away from the man who had just tried to cut her into bits was a bad idea would be fruitless. “Have it your way. But we first have to search Keller’s hideout. We were able to get the address from one of the SSR-hacks. It’s a regular hotel room.”

“Sounds great.”

“I will go in first. You stay back until I give you the clear.”

Y/N knew that it was now her time to compromise. “Fair enough.”

A/N: Actually, I posted this a week ago, or even two weeks ago! But thanks to this wonderful hellsite, no one was notified. Love it. ANNNYWAYS. I hope you enjoy this whirlwind of a chapter, from heartfelt talks to nearly heartfelt bullets. Also: Yes, that story Jack referrenced really happened. And the dude who survived was indeed called Bush. George H. W. Bush, to be exact. Crazy story! Let me know what you thought of the chapter, feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!!

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[happytaffeta]

So I have been having increased trouble going to bed at a reasonable time recently. I have also been hitting more exhaustion walls, predictably. Apparently, working five days a week, even if it’s only a few hours each day, and then having night every other Wednesday after work, as well as every Saturday and every other Sunday, is more social and work time than my brain can deal with. The good news is, in about three or four weeks the spring session will end and I can hopefully get one of my weekdays back for social recharge/home tasks time, which will hopefully help me get back to going to bed before midnight so I can be asleep before 2-to-6 am. (it takes me ages to actually fall asleep once I’m in bed, has since at least middle school, I am told this is the mild version of insomnia) and hopefully that extra sleep will mean I am more able to tolerate Bad Sounds, so maybe I won’t have to leave the room and go put on noise cancelling headphones with music when roomies have snacks or beverages, as this is now a thing that my roommate has remarked on enough in a short time that I spent this morning in the living room in pain, not saying or doing anything to solve it, while he had lunch rather than risk having it mentioned again.

Yes this is unhealthy af conflict avoidance shit on my part, and no it is not his fault for expressing concern.

Anyway it’s once again past midnight and I have two classes tomorrow I’ve never taught before, both of which I also need to do the training quizzes for because I’ve not taught them before. Fortunately I am just an assistant teacher, and the veteran of this curriculum is leading. That said, I’m gonna go to bed.