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secretly-tumb1r · 7 months ago

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Roadtrip - hotch x reader

summary: when hotch finally sheds his stubbornness, he decides to drive back to Quantico from New York, in an attempt to rest his punctured eardrum. You couldn’t leave him without company, so you join him.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, making out, alcohol usage

A/n: first hotch fic hope you love it!! Also i cant exactly remember the dialogue between hotch and prentiss at the start forgive me😭. Enjoy lovelies💞

masterlist

(gif not mine all credits to original creator <3)

“Here, for your flight back.” Hotch hands the platter of baked goods to Agent Prentiss.

“What, you aren’t coming with us?” Her eyebrow cocks up in curiosity. “No, I really shouldn’t be flying” He shakes his head. “are you sure? it’s a 7 hour ride back to Quantico” Rossi asks, words chosen carefully. Hotch looks down. “I’ve taken that road before, you’ll see loads of country, beautiful scenery, maybe you should extend your trip a day or two.” Hotch easily picks up what he was putting down, suggesting he should take a rest. “Thank you” “Take all the time you need” Rossi nods at him and gets in the black SUV.

“Hey.. care for some company?” you smile brightly at Aaron and surprisingly, he returns the gesture. “Sure why not, hop in,” his eyes twinkle with happiness at the thought of you two on a roadtrip alone, maybe even in a hotel room. You cheerfully make your way to the passenger door, waving a quick goodbye to the rest of your team.

“Well.. we all know what’s gonna happen in the one day Hotch and y/n will take off” Morgan teases. “I don’t wanna think about it..” Reid grimaces at the thought, earning a laugh from the rest.

—————————————————————————

You had been on the road for quite some time yet. The sky was darkening and you were engulfed by silence bar the quiet radio playing in the background. Your eyes dared to close as your head fell down as sleep was consuming you. Work lately was.. exhausting. Aarons eyes shifted slightly from the road to your tired physique and his heart nearly broke. Seeing you so tired, he made his mind up to pull over at the nearest hotel.

It wasn’t for another 2 miles that his car finally stopped, and you were awakened from your slumber by a soft voice. “y/n” he gently patted your shoulder, “cmon wake up, we’re at a hotel” you stirred in your sleep “mm 5 more minutes” you practically moaned and leaned into his touch. His mouth went dry, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as a he took a big gulp. “y/n, wake up” he said a bit sterner. Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice, embarrassment filling your body. “Sorry! sorry i’m up.” you try to look as awake as possible. “cmon let’s go in we’re both tired”.

Hotch was normally so.. stoic. His face blurred of any emotion except seriousness. You were pretty sure in the one year you had worked at the BAU, you’d never seen him smile. That was awake Hotch, sleepy hotch was merely the opposite. It looked like all attempts to contain human emotion were discarded a few hours back. Sleepy Hotch was more.. human like, it was refreshing seeming him emit feelings like the rest of us mortals.

“I’m sorry sir, we only have one available room right now.” Hotch’s gaze didn’t shift off the guy at the till. “It’s fine. We’ll take that please.” he hands him his credit card. “Are you sure? There’s only one bed in that room” Your breath hitched. You’d either be sharing the bed or one of you would have to sleep on the floor, which you assumed Hotch would take it upon himself to take his place on the floor. “Yeah it’s fine we’ll work something out” he sighs deeply and shoves his hands down his pockets.

Aaron tried to keep his composure at the thought of you two sharing a bed. Of course he knew it wouldn’t happen, he’d have to sleep on the floor, but the thought of it suddenly made him wide awake.

When you made it to the room you realised you had no change to sleep in, so you discarded your pants and bra and pulled your button up shirt that reached your mid thighs down. Stepping out the bathroom while tying your hair up in a low bun, Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. You were radiating. Even tired and only in a shirt you still managed to look exquisite. His eyes hungrily scanned your body stopping at your exposed thighs, arousal building up inside him. He did his best to look you in the eye as he stared in silence.

“Like what you see boss?” You teased, your eyebrows lifting suggestively. “uh- “ he gulped hard. “i’m gonna go uhm- yeah”. He disappeared in the bathroom. Splashing some cold water on his face, he took his tie, belt and button up shirt off, leaving him in his pants and a undershirt he appeared to wear under his shirt. When he stepped out, you had to keep yourself from salivating. His biceps looked incredibly big, and his pants fit him perfectly. You bit down on your bottom lip, a gesture you only did when you were excited. Hotch knew that. His confidence building back up inside him as he repeated your previous words.

“Like what you see” and he suggestively raised his eyebrows like you did just moments ago. “uh- i- “ He laughed brightly, which took you by surprise because untill a few moments ago, you hadn’t even seen him smile before. Your shoulders relaxed as you slumped down on the bed. “so i’ll uhm- take the floor” he began to say. You quickly interrupted him. “cmon boss, don’t be like that, it’s only one night. I promise i’ll keep my distance” His mouth twitched into a smile, and his heart grew. He didn’t think you’d suggest sharing a bed, but he was glad you did. He joined you in bed, heart beating so hard he thought it would jump out his chest.

You couldn’t help but feel giddy, like a highschool kid with her first crush. His presence was so hard to ignore, and your body moved before your mind as you turned to your side to face him. He was laying on his back looking up at the ceiling, he looked so beautiful. You couldn’t help but admire his features. His dark eyebrows, and even darker eyes, his high cheekbones and his big nose. Something about big noses excited something in you. You had no idea why.

Hotch turned his head to look at you, his eyes scanning your body. Your hands were pressed under the side of your head, and your leg was slightly bent, showing the curve of your ass. He felt his pants tighten as he abruptly got up, walking to the mini bar.

“Would you care for a drink?” You lifted yourself on your elbows to look at him. “Sure why not”. One drink turned into two and two turned into too many, and quickly you were laughing and telling eachother embarrassing childhood stories.

“No i’m not even lying! I licked his teeth!” you said as you teasingly pushed his arm. Hotch, between laughs, said “Your first kiss, and you licked his teeth?” He collapsed on the bed laughing. “What can i say i wasnt the best kisser”. Suddenly, he stopped laughing, his eyes filling with lust.

“Are you still bad at kissing?” His dark eyes bore into yours as you softly said “yes” picking up what he was putting down. “Why don’t you show me and i’ll give you some pointers.” His hand met your cheek, grazing it gently, as he pulled you in, his lips crashing onto yours. He tasted like alcohol and sweetness, intoxicating. His cologne filled your nostrils as you shifted your legs to straddle him, both of your thighs pressed against his ribs, as he cupped your face and tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to your thighs, kneading the soft skin making you gasp. He took the opportunity of you opening your mouth more to slip his tongue inside your mouth. His soft tongue dancing in a slow rhythm with your own. He moved both of his hands to your thighs gripping them tightly as your hands make their way to his hair, pulling it.

Your mouths moved in tandem and unity, a pace that was so calming yet so awakening. You had never felt this way before, and now that you had, you never wanted to back to feeling how you used to.

first part what do y’all thinkkkk?? i know this isn’t very “erotic” but i js needed to see if you guys would like it. Lmk if you do and i’ll post a very very spicy part 2 lovelies. LOVE YOU ALL MWWWAHHHH kisses xoxo💞

#secretly tumblr #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut #hotch x reader #dom hotch #aaron hotch angst #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x oc

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year ago

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Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Castiel x teen!reader Jack x teen!reader (all platonic)

Requested by @little-bug-butt

Synopsis: just some little shorts about the Impala being the best place on earth.

You turned the back of the Impala into your own personal sleeping quarters and got comfortable right away. Sam had dragged you out of bed far too early, insisting that it was time to move on, since the hunt was over. You had been asleep by the time the boys had gotten back from a quick vamp job, and they woke you after showering and getting about three hours of sleep.

Despite your grumpy exhaustion, the thrum of the Impala’s engine starting up brought a smile tugging at your lips. In most cases, sleeping in a car was incredibly uncomfortable, but not in the Impala. The backseat was large and fairly accommodating, and the purr of Baby’s engine was better than any lullaby.

It still wasn’t a bed, but it was warm and it was safe, and that was all you could ask for.

“Do you think we’re doing this right?” The sound of Sam’s whispering caught your attention, but you kept your eyes closed as you attempted to sleep.

“What, the job?” Dean asked. “We haven’t even gotten there yet.”

“No, not the job, Y/N.”

“What about her?” Dean’s voice dropped in volume.

“I mean, we’ve been going from job to job nonstop for a while now. I don’t wanna wear her out.”

“She’s fine, look at her. She’s out like a light.”

You struggled to hold back your smile at this. You hadn’t realized that your feigned sleep was so convincing.

“You sure? I mean she’s been kinda quiet lately.”

“I’m sure she’s just tired. She’s gonna be alright, we all are.”

“I just don’t wanna screw this up, you know? With dad gone, I’m not sure I know how to—“

“She doesn’t need a replacement for dad, Sam. Just be a good brother and she’ll be alright.”

The car lapsed into silence after that, and you found yourself drifting in and out of sleep until the sun began to rise. It was still early, and you were still tired, but you shifted in your seat to watch the sunrise anyway.

When Dean saw that you were awake, he reached up and turned on the radio. You craned your neck to see Sam dozing, but he could sleep through anything, so Dean’s Metallica tape wasn’t a problem.

Neither of you spoke to break the still, silent morning, but you still felt connected to your big brother as the two of you watched the sun cast it’s pinkish glow over the black hood of the Impala. The air was crisp, but the light of dawn brought with it a warm blanketing shine that brought an easy smile to your lips. You took a deep breath, and somewhere between Dean’s cologne and the smell of fast food you could smell the fresh air of the morning. Or, more likely than not, you were imagining it, and the only fresh smell was the little green tree air freshener that you had hung up to make the car smell better, and Dean had immediately taken off and flung into the backseat.

“Good morning,” Dean finally broke the silence, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “You doing ok?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him. “I’m doing just fine.”

…

“Ow! Cas, that’s my hand.”

“Sorry, but you’re in my space.”

“So not true! Jack, close the window.”

“But it’s hot in here.”

“If you kids don’t shut up, I’m going to turn this car around!” Dean snapped from the front seat.

“Did you call me a child?” Cas complained.

“No more talking, that’s the rule for the next hundred miles,” Dean grunted.

Sam said nothing, just smirking as Dean went to turn on the radio.

“What?” He snapped when he saw Sam’s face.

“Oh I’m not saying a word,” Sam said before sliding his fingers in front of his lips in a “zipping my lips” motion.

“Smart,” Dean grumbled, changing his mind on the radio and instead opting to watch the scenery.

After a few minutes silence became comfortable, and the five of you continued like that for hours. You were smashed up against the side of the Impala, Cas and Jack taking up most of the space, but once your leg went numb you could kind of ignore it.

The silence was peaceful, the most peace all of you had had in a while. You watched the sun dipped below the horizon with your head leaning against the cool glass of the window. Once the sun was down, however, you leaned back in your seat, resting your head against Castiel’s shoulder as you began to nod off. He didn’t say anything, but you felt him shift in his seat so that you could lean more comfortably on him. You didn’t often get this close to the angel, and if you’d been fully awake you would’ve probably been too self-conscious to take up so much of his personal space. But Cas didn’t mind, in fact he was almost flattered that you felt comfortable enough around him to sleep on him.

When the Impala reached its destination and Dean said, “Alright, let’s go,” he was surprised when Cas shushed him, gesturing to you.

“Should we—“

“Don’t wake her,” Sam said. “She hasn’t been sleeping too well lately. I’ll get her.”

“No I’ve got her,” Dean said, opening the backseat door and easing you away from Cas, lifting you easily into his arms.

“Cas?” You mumbled, stirring in Dean’s arms.

“Shh, go back to sleep kid.”

You didn’t argue, and within seconds you were dozing in Dean’s arms as he carried you into the motel room.

…

The five of you had to start early the next morning, but when Cas entered the room that you and your brothers were sharing, he found you still asleep.

“Can you get her up?” Dean called from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Y/N?” You groaned as Cas shook your shoulder. “It’s time to go, c’mon.”

“I’ll stay here,” you mumbled before turning over and pulling your pillow over your head.

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Cas frowned.

“Cas,” Sam sighed. “You can’t wake her up like that.”

“Then how—“

“Alright, up!”

“Wait—“ you groaned as Sam grabbed your ankles and yanked you out of bed, an “oof!” Escaping you as you landed hard on your back.

“Let’s go,” Sam insisted, stepping over you to pack his bag.

“Jerk,” you grumbled as you started to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, you were on the road again, and the gentle lull of Baby’s engine had you dozing again.

“You sleep a lot,” you lifted your head at the sound of Jack’s voice, who was now sitting next to you instead of Cas.

“It’s the only way to cope though Dean’s playlist, if I was conscious I’d have to listen to it.”

“Hey, I can hear you!” Dean protested.

“Good, then maybe you’ll update your collection.”

The two of you bickered for a while before eventually giving up, and the car once again lapsed into comfortable silence. You leaned against the window, the purr of Baby’s engine and the miles of fields bringing a calm to you that you hadn’t been able to feel lately. It blanketed the car, creating a vortex of protection from the chaos that enthralled the lives of the people inside.

It felt as though as long as they were in the Impala, nothing could touch them. They were together, they were warm, and they were safe.

They were home.

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bimbos-are-angels · 4 months ago

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ᴅᴇʙᴛ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ Pt. 2

@terriblefaun

Back with part 2 y'all! Thank you to those that reblogged and liked, as it helps my blog and helps me a lot too! Luv y'all and I hope you enjoy! Credits to awesomesauce creator @anitalenia for the dividers!

CW: Sexual content (mdni), P in V, Female anatomy, dacryphilia, lots of fluff with smut at the end.

“It’s sooooo hot outtt” You whined. After about a week of traveling with Mr. Morgan and a week since you had last seen your backstabbing ass of a father (Arthurs's words, not yours.) You had come to enjoy the company of this older man. “Shut up, we’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” you groaned

“Just shut up for a few minutes and enjoy the ride.”

He wasn’t wrong about the scenery, it was gorgeous. Your house was surrounded by rolling hills for miles, which was pretty in its own way. However- the mountains have always had a special place in your heart for some reason, with so many animals and so many colorful plants. Suddenly, Mr. Morgan’s horse slowed to a halt and he got off. You hadn’t even processed what was in front of you while you were thinking. A small dingy camp with an amazing overlook of a nearby town. Before you could say anything, Arthur had yanked you off of his horse and dropped you on the ground. “I’m not livestock! The hell’s wrong with you, miserable old man!” He smirked but turned away for a second to contain himself. “Follow me then, your highness.” He spat. You liked it when he was sarcastic, the trip to this camp was full of you verbally shooting daggers at him to set him off. You wanted him to snap at you for some reason. You wanted to see the veins in his forehead and arms bulge and for him to get silent and stoic- It wasn’t a want at this point- it was a need.

A shriveled, small, and rather well-dressed man approached the both of you, he looked worried and confused. “Herr Morgan! Herr Morgan! Where’s the money? You know the routine at this point! Who’s this?!” This man reminded you a little bit of a tiny worm, wriggling and panicking as he tried to talk to Arthur. You finally got to see Mr. Morgan upset though, as you observed him rub his temples with his large and rough hands. “ ‘Ere’s the situation, I tried gettin' the money from Mr. Clifton-”

“I don’t see the money, Arthur!”

“Let me finish” He sighs and continues,

“He gave me his daughter instead. Thought he could pay me with her”

The little man shuddered, “He’s really as scummy as I thought he was. I knew he’d pull something- But don’t you usually do something with those men?” You looked at Arthur, the implication that he would beat up- or worse- kill your own father was horrifying. Arthur didn’t answer the little man and just walked away. Following him, you two came across another man. “Dutch- ‘M back,” Arthur yells. “Arthur! We all thought you were hanging in Blackwater or some other area!” He looks at you and adds on, “Who’s this? ‘Ya can’t just be grabbing prostitutes from towns ya’know!” The man snickers. It seems the more interactions that Mr. Morgan has at this camp, the more irritated he gets. You enjoy watching him turn red and scurry away from the others and back to his tent. You shrugged off the comment however, you had been called worse. Besides, you pretty much had the mind of a prostitute around Arthur Morgan. You had wondered what it would be like to sleep with him, to take all of him, and how he’d look. Was he big? Does he have muscles and would he use them to hold you down? “Hey.”

“JESUS CHRIST” you yelled, everyone in camp looking at you. Spinning around, you stare him down for interrupting your thoughts. Putting his hands up, he turns back around and walks back to his tent, and grabs a rolled-up mattress for you to sleep on. “ ‘Is gettin’ dark out, here’s a bed.” You felt horrible, “Thank you, ‘m sorry.” Before going back to his tent, he pats you on the back. “I know-” he sighs “I know you didn’t want this happenin'- n’ I know I ain’t some handsome prince charmin’ like the books I saw you readin’” He’s embarrassed, he can’t even maintain eye contact with you now.

“I wan’ you to know that I think you're a mighty fine gal and I wouldn’t mind if ya’ stuck around.” His face was cherry red, and he couldn’t even face you now. Was this your chance? Your gut was practically screaming at you to kiss him, to hold him, to just sleep with him. Stepping towards him you start to stare into his eyes. They were shaking and wide, but aimed in on you, all of you. Pulling you in, he tilted your head up and kissed you. His hands slide down to your hips, and then your ass as he pull you closer to him. Feeling him against your areas, his mouth escapes and moves on to your neck and collarbones. You yelped as he bit and then kissed the wounds afterward, looking back up at you to get your validation. You couldn’t take it anymore- “Arthur, please-” He nods and picks you up bridal style to his tent. Laying you down he kisses you some more as he pulls up your shirt and pulls down your skirt and petticoat. You’re so obviously wet it’s embarrassing. Not for Arthur however, as he goes down on you with so much rigor it’s downright despicable. The moans you’re letting out were pure sin and probably has woken up the whole camp at this point. Getting up, he begins to unzip his pants to pull his dick out. Holy shit you thought, his size was bigger than anything you could have thought of in your dirtiest fantasies. He pumps himself a few times before looking back up at you for an answer. “Put it in-” You moan. As he stretched you out, you couldn’t help but grip the sheets around you. It’s so painful, but it’s so good, your mind is melting as he starts to move his hips in and out of you, slowly picking up the pace. Slipping in and out of you because of how tight you are, he groans and strains his muscles to hold you down to stop you from moving too much. He’s so huge, every part of him is huge, his muscles, his cock, his whole body. You can’t help but start moaning more and more as he grips your hips with one hand and pushes you down with the other. “Fuck, m’ close” Arthur starts to move quicker, and his grip is stronger and beginning to leave flowered bruises on your hips and ass. Grabbing your jaw, he pulls you closer for a kiss as he releases inside you. “Ah fuck ‘m so so sorry” As he pulls out, he grabs a nearby cloth to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks. “I’m okay, it’s okay, you’re okay.” you sigh. You two lay there in silence, as he holds you in his arms, you know that as you slowly drift off to sleep, you’ll only dream of you and him- together.

#arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan

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marcelllyn · 6 months ago

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Just one bed.

This is kind of a continuation of the previous fanfic but it could also be a standalone story. (My obsession with him still hasn't passed.)

Dean and reader are traveling and they stop at a Motel and it only has one bed.

Warnings: Naked people, cute.

This was written very quickly and revised once and remembering English is not my first language.

Dean was a terrible driver when he was sleepy, but he refused to let me drive. After I agreed to go with him to Sam's college, for some reason, Dean had taken the long way around.

— Are you sure you don't want to let me drive?

—I have. — He yawned.

He looked at me heavily, it was clear that tiredness had taken over. My butt hurt from sitting so much, and my urge to pee only increased.

— I think we'd better stop at a hotel. — I stopped the loud music playing on the radio. — I can't stand spending so much time in this car anymore.

— Fresh. — He coughed.

I opened a smile.

—What did you say? — I raised my eyebrows.

—Nothing, I think you're so tired that you're hearing voices. — He squeezed my knee. — Search the map for the nearest hotel or motel, please.

I took the map from the glove compartment, the closest one is a good few miles away.

— I think we'd better stop and sleep in the car. — I showed him the map.

— It's not very safe. — He yawned.

— Dean, I think driving while drowsy isn't safe either.

—Two rooms? — He rolled his eyes. — We want a room, please.

I pinched her arm lightly when the little lady turned to pick up one of the only keys left.

— It's thirty-five dollars. — The lady's crow's voice made my body tremble.

I took the money from my jeans pocket and placed it on the table.

We went up the stairs, room two, I looked through a long hallway of doors with jumbled numbers.

— Why a room? — I whispered.

— There's no need to whisper here. — Dean stopped walking and the silence revealed the sounds of moaning, among other things. — Why spend money on two bedrooms? We might as well share a bed.

I remembered the last time we shared a bed, he snored like a pig.

—Do you snore. — I sighed with relief when I found the room. — He snores very loudly.

I turned the doorknob and entered the room, a heart-shaped bed, bathtub in the corner of the room and two lamps. A sudden change of scenery compared to the reception.

— This is like a five-star hotel. — Dean went ahead. — I'm going to take a shower first.

— Could you be a gentleman and let the ladies go first? — I closed the bedroom door and threw my backpack on the floor. — Don't be long, I need to use the bathroom.

He rolled his eyes and entered the bathroom, slamming the door. I looked at the hot tub. — A massage wouldn't go amiss now — I turned on the bathtub.

I took off my red tank top, which was very dirty, thanks to my little Coca-Cola incident earlier, and threw my jeans somewhere in the corner of the room.

I only put the tip of one foot in the water, the temperature was perfect. I turned on the hot tub. As soon as I got into that warm water, I swore I could feel my soul relaxing at that moment. Paradise must be like that.

It was a few minutes before the bathroom door opened, I slowly turned my face away out of pure instinct.

Dean had the towel wrapped around his waist. That man was divine.

—Is having fun? — He gave a smug smile.

— Relaxing is the right word, you should do the same.

—Sure, why not?

My eyes widen when he drops the towel and climbs into the bathtub naked.

— This is like paradise.

My cheeks burned, he opened his arms, stepping between the edges of the tub and throwing his head back.

— What silence, the cat got your tongue? — He complained, still with his eyes closed.

My brain was completely behind in processing my thoughts. It wasn't a big deal, well, it was a big deal.

— You're pale, you look like you've seen a ghost. If you see one, you better let me know. — His smug smile bothered me.

—Is nothing. — I snorted. Lies have never been my strong suit. — I'm going to go take a shower — I rested my hand on the edge.

Dean laughed rudely.

— You don't have to act like you've never seen me naked. — He mocked.

I rolled my eyes. He was always presumptuous to levels beyond heaven. Even if he was right, I never got used to seeing people naked in front of me.

I got out of the bathtub and headed towards the bathroom.

☆

The shower was terrible, the hot water didn't work, I had to take a lukewarm shower that was more like ice cream. The toilet, of course, was filthy. I put on sweatpants, after all, no one deserves to sleep in jeans.

When I came back, Dean was dressed, apparently he also minded sleeping in jeans. — Sleeping on the floor.

I thought about how stupid he was for not lying in bed.

I poked him with my foot.

—What it was? — He murmured.

—Are you a dog by any chance? You can lie down on the bed!

— I don't want to bother you with my snoring.

His concern was cute, but I wouldn't be able to sleep if he stayed on the floor.

— Your snoring is like music to my ears. — I poked his thigh three times with my foot, he grabbed it tightly and made a noise of dissatisfaction. — If you don't go to bed, I'll sleep on the floor too.

As soon as he let go of my foot and stood up, his gaze was like a dagger in my chest.

— How boring you are. — He threw himself onto the bed, lying face down. — Satisfied?

—Very. — I patted him lightly on the back.

I turned off the light and lay down, his snoring was really unbearable, but it was better to see him sleep on the floor.

He was so cute as he slept peacefully, even though he was snoring like some kind of monster.

Over time, my eyes felt heavy, my blinks were slow. Soon he falls asleep.

☆

Apparently, we forgot to close the curtains, the daylight did me the favor of waking me up, it was so good to sleep in a bed again.

I slowly opened my eyes, tried to get up, but Dean's heavy body was holding me back. He was hugging my body with one of his legs on top of me and his face between my neck.

His hot breath tickled, there was no snoring or drooling.

—Dean. — I whispered.

He mumbled something indecipherable.

— Dean!

—What it was? — He mumbled.

— We need to go, it's daytime and we don't want to hit traffic.

He walked away and sat down. I got up and picked up the pants thrown next to the t-shirt and put them in my backpack, grabbed the toothbrush and ran to the bathroom.

As soon as I got back, Dean was ready, sitting on the bed.

— Aren't you going to brush your teeth? Using the toilet?

— No. — He braved.

Any happiness left in my body drained away when I realized he was in a bad mood.

I guess I should say that I have a profile on Ao3, and on Wattpad, well on Ao3 I post basically the same things as here so...

I'm working on an arranged marriage fanfic, Sirius Black x Female Reader.

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #fanfiction #sam winchester #sam and dean #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #Just a bed #cute

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viridianevergarden · 7 months ago

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The Comforts of the Night

A/N: So I haven’t written anything serious in like 2 years but my elriel hunger is unfathomably ravenous so I decided to take a crack at it. This little fic focuses more on Azriel and is told from his POV. It’s a what if scenario that I hadn’t really bothered to specify precisely when in the story this would ever take place so 💀 Enjoy, I hope.

Word count: 3.5K

Ship: Elriel

Key: light fluff, angst

Possible triggers: Elements of poor self loathing/esteem, light mentions of blood and suggestive things.

• • •

It had been a long day for Azriel, so unbearably long. Such was commonplace for him, however, as being the Night Court's Spymaster unyieldingly commanded the workload.

His muscles had ached from stress nearly all day, though he effortlessly paid no heed, not until now. A part of him had wondered how, after centuries of the same work, his body hadn't become adapted to it. He couldn't deny that he worked more nowadays than he had ever done, especially with the threat of the incoming war growing ever closer.

Work had been unforgiving for a long while. The requirement of always leaving Velaris to go to war camps, courts, or even the continent had always been something Azriel loathed and wished he never had to do. Yet now, for a time, he had returned home to Velaris. As for how long he would stay, he had no idea. Orders alone had determined that factor and even those were ever changing.

The wind's chill nipped at Azriel's wings as he flew across the clear starry sky, peering down at the warm lights that littered Velaris' buildings and streets. Fewer people were out and about at this hour, and yet the city looked as lively as it did in the day. Perhaps some were going home after a fun night at a local bar, or others were merely enjoying the ever-beautiful scenery on a late-night walk. If only he had the free time to do so as well, he'd thought.

After circling the proximity of Velaris once over, he banked into the direction of the Townhouse. He would sleep there only for the night and leave again come dawn. As of late, Azriel had avoided staying at the Townhouse, at least for longer periods. But to his dismay, sleep softly called out to him, just as his shadows so often would.

From overhead, Azriel could see the Townhouse's gardens as he approached, making note of the newly planted flowers and sprouts that rimmed the tall hedges within.

It had been over a week since he was last in Velaris. Being here now, seeing the progress that had been made, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder about the one who tended to the gardens itself. He wondered about how she was doing, what else she was up to, and if she was doing alright.

His eyes continued to scan the gardens until they locked onto a pale mass of lilac, golden brown, and cream sitting upon one of the stone benches. The Shadowsinger knew exactly who it was. It was as if his thoughts of her had miraculously willed her into existence. The very girl that had constantly plagued his mind, plagued his mind just then.

But why was Elain in the gardens alone in the dead of night? On a chilly one no less? He had known Elain to be one to stay up late on occasion but being alone in the gardens at this hour was new.

Thoughts of what to do flit through his mind, contemplating whether to bank now and go inside before she noticed him or to see her— To talk to her and revel in the moment, to see if she is okay.

Desire wrestled with the fiends in his head, the ones that told him he shouldn’t. That told him he should go inside and sleep. To forget what he saw and stay away. That there was no need for someone like him to speak to someone like her.

Although it seemed that his mental war was all for naught. Quiet as his large wings were on the wind, it seemed as if Elain could still hear him coming from miles away. Like she had already known he was coming.

Her beautiful face turned upward in his direction, brown eyes wide in recognition. It was too late to turn away now. The female remained in her place, daring not to move as Azriel had landed a short distance away on soft feet. He flared his wings once before folding them in and tucking them closed.

They stared at one another before Elain bit her lip and spoke, “You’re back.”

Her voice was quiet and soft, and Azriel took a moment to just… Listen. His shadows had pooled to his feet at the sweet sound. Like they were in need of retreat.

He swiftly ducked his head to nod, “I am.” It wasn’t enough of an answer, not for her. “For now. I’ll be leaving again at dawn.”

“Oh… I see.” Elain’s eyes darted away from him as her hopeful expression faltered. “You must be tired, so I’ll–” Azriel shook his head.

She looked him up and down in worry, searching his eyes for some form of an answer.

“I’m fine.” He angled his head toward the flower sprouts across from them. “They’re coming along nicely.” A smile twitched onto Elain’s lips, and Azriel had known then that she was well aware of the subject change.

“I planted them a few days ago.” Right after he left if he had to guess. “They’re moonflower sprouts. They bloom after dusk until dawn.”

Azriel offered her a gentle smile, recalling that they were indeed one of the flowers that she had spoken about a time before. He could remember as much with little effort.

“Sit with me?” The sudden request made Azriel’s brows twitch in confusion. Elain stammered, “If it’s no trouble, I don’t mind the company.”

Azriel shouldn’t— Shouldn’t— but he couldn’t say no, not to her offer. Not to her. He stepped closer as she scooted down the bench a little, allowing him space to sit and move his wings to get comfortable, or at least as comfortable as anyone could get on a stone bench.

Being so close, the scent— Her scent of honey and jasmine was near enough to leave him intoxicated. His heart thrummed and he only hoped that she couldn’t hear it.

“Why are you outside this late?” The words slipped from Azriel’s lips faster than he could contemplate them.

Elain fumbled with the fabric of her lilac sleeping gown like she was thinking of what to say. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would come out here for a bit to get some fresh air.” A partial lie. He knew that much, and judging by her expression, she knew that he was aware.

Was Elain like him too? Did she have endless voices in her head? Were they the ones responsible for keeping her awake at night like they did him?

Azriel blinked, his hazel eyes sliding down Elain’s form. Just in her gown, no shoes or socks, no coat. Long, wavy, golden-brown locks draped over an exposed shoulder, over her creamy skin— “It’s cool out, you should have grabbed a jacket.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed at the realization as she quickly averted her gaze from him once again, taking interest in the moon-bathed pavement. “I didn’t think it would get this cold…”

The male took a moment to think, to think over his immediate thoughts, and determine what to do. Anything to avoid messing this up. But if she was cold—

“I’ll be alright, please don’t worry.” She had known, caught on too quickly. Elain had read him all too well. She always did, he realized.

Moonlit doe eyes stared back at him once more. Doe eyes… How beautiful they were. And her bright reassuring smile— it was more than enough to make him weak in the knees, bright enough to put even his shadows at bay.

Azriel’s lips parted in an urge before they quickly shut again, quickly willing himself to speak. “At least let me keep you from freezing.” He could provide that much at the very least, if she let him.

Before Elain could speak, the Shadowsinger slowly extended his wing behind her back, though careful not to touch her and not to disturb the blue hydrangeas behind them.

An offer.

She sucked in a breath that sent shivers down his spine and glanced back at the sight. She then slid closer to him, just a few inches. Close enough that their thighs nearly touched. That large wing gently— carefully— ever so slowly curled around her far shoulder, as if he thought that any careless movement could harm her.

His wings alone were not incredibly warm but they did help to retain some semblance of body heat in times of need. At the very least, they could protect from the wind.

“Thank you.” Sweet. Her voice was too sweet. Like a song. Azriel dipped his chin in response, not knowing how to respond properly.

“Your wings,” Elain paused for a moment, focused entirely on the one resting against her back and curled around her side. “Do they get cold too?”

A laugh nearly instantly slipped from Azriel’s lips. A low and quiet chuckle. “Sometimes. The cold’s bite can be relentless.”

Perhaps it was due to his laugh or some other thing, but Elain’s shoulders loosened in ease. A smile bloomed back onto her face as she peered up at him. “It was a silly question, I apologize. I’m just curious.”

“Curiosity is harmless. Never apologize for it.” The male smiled back at Elain. “If you have questions, you may ask freely.”

“Even if my questions are frivolous?” Elain joked with a small giggle, raising a curled finger to her lips.

Azriel’s warm gaze softened at the lovely sound— her laugh. “Even if your questions are frivolous.” A silly reassurance, but a reassurance nonetheless.

Elain hummed as she stared up at Azriel, that smile never faltering. The shadowsinger was the first to break eye contact, fearing that if he looked at her too long, he might do something foolish. That he might fall victim to his desires more than he already had this night. He looked up at the stars instead, for any manner of distraction. It was nearing an hour past midnight, judging by the moon’s positioning.

“If I may be so selfish to ask,” Elain’s voice called his eyes back down to her. “Could we stay here for a while longer?” Her tone was laced with meek hope. Azriel tilted his head in inclination, wondering why.

Elain clenched her fists and her lips trembled. She was searching for an excuse, anything not to seem impolite or desperate, it seemed. Before she could speak, Azriel had beat her to it.

“Yes,” He took a breath, “Of course we can.” Elain’s hands unclenched after hearing his confirmation, seemingly relieved by it.

They sat together in a comfortable silence for a while, merely enjoying each other’s company and the scenery that surrounded them. The silence was nothing new between them and it had never been awkward before but tonight, oh this night felt… Different. Here they sat, where only the stars might witness them, while all of Velaris slept.

Sleep. The shadows whispered into his ears. The girl wants to sleep.

Azriel turned his head to peer down at Elain, right in time to witness her dozing figure lean against his arm. He assumed it was hardly comfortable, given that he was wearing his Illyrian leathers, but…

He stared, stared at her. At the way the loose strands of her hair framed her face. At her long lashes and perfect nose. Her soft lips. Her lips—

Sleep. His shadows continued to beckon. Sleep.

Azriel knocked himself out of his trance, a small frown forming on his face.

He didn’t want to disturb her rest but it was getting cooler by the minute and this was no place to sleep safely.

“Elain…” His voice was barely louder than the soft breeze. But her name— Her name rolling off his lips—

Elain merely gave him a barely audible broken hum. She was falling into a deeper sleep by the second.

“We should get you inside.” He received no response and hadn’t expected one.

Azriel sat there for a moment to consider what he should do. He then loosed a quiet sigh and moved to pick Elain up. Carefully, ever so carefully did he crane one arm underneath her legs and the other to support her back. The sudden absence of his wing had caused her to cling to him, to any semblance of warmth she could find against the frigid air.

Her head rested against the black scales of his leathers as the male started for the doors that led back inside from the gardens. Silently, the doors opened for Azriel, by the work of his shadows no less. He passed the threshold and the doors closed, then he began his ascent upon the foyer steps.

The trip to Elain’s room was short and uneventful, thank the Cauldron. If anyone had seen— There would be no excuses to be made, no believable farce to cover how they had looked in the moment. And more importantly, to disturb Elain’s peaceful rest, Azriel wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for it.

His shadows had willed her bedroom door open, and Azriel nudged it further with his foot before heading inside. Hazel eyes scanned the view before them, taking in all the details of the room.

Perhaps it was due to his habit as a Spymaster to do so, to analyze every little thing in sight. Not that Azriel hadn’t long since memorized the entire layout of the townhouse, including the placements of any weapons within, but this room— this room was uncharted territory. He’d kept true about Elain’s right to privacy after all.

Elain’s room was clean and tidy, and had smelled so strongly of her— The old vanity desk in the far left corner was littered with stacks of books, he’d guessed, that covered the arts of gardening and botany. Several seed pouches lay scattered about, each labeled with names of different flora.

On the opposite side of the room was the massive canopy bed, centered against the wall. The bed itself was big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. Such a thing had been the standard for every bedroom in the townhouse, but Azriel could only imagine how much better the extra space was for those without wings.

The rich wood end tables that flanked the bedsides had been adorned with smaller potted plants. Each were with little budding flowers in hues of pinks and blues, although they were closed for the night.

The ivory covers of the bed itself were a mess, and Azriel had guessed that she indeed must have tried to sleep before getting up— just as she had said before.

Azriel moved through the room and gently laid Elain down in her bed, pulling off the strands of hair that had snagged onto his leathers. Elain had hardly stirred during any of it, to his favor.

Scarred hands pulled the soft covers up to Elain’s shoulders and all the male could do was halt. He couldn’t help but stare. She had looked so… So peaceful. Beautiful. Even bathed in the silver moonlight that the bay windows had offered, she still glowed like the light of the sun at dawn.

He wondered, how could anyone not fall to their knees before her? How could they even think to hurt someone such as her? Someone so warm and sweet— Endlessly giving and full of light— So gentle and yet so strong—

The Shadowsinger thoughtlessly leaned down to take in her features, bracing his hand on the bedside to keep himself balanced. Elain remained ever so still, breathing slow and soft.

Oh, how he yearned to be able to hold her in his gentle embrace. Yearned to make her smile and laugh. Yearned to lay with her in warmth and comfort. Yearned to place his hand on her cheek and lift her chin the way he wanted, to lean down and press his lips against hers—

Azriel’s other hand had lifted, he’d realized, frozen merely centimeters from touching Elain’s soft cheek. His hand— Hideous splotched scars had consumed his vision, and plagued his mind like the terrible fiends did. Calloused and burned hideousness covered in the blood of many. A hand that did nothing but kill, maim, and hurt. One undeserving of anything such as this.

His hand quickly jerked away from Elain’s cheek and formed a fist back at his side, as if his own ugliness would singe her perfect face, her beauty. As if his ugliness would cast a shadow over her light and snuff it out for good.

Azriel stumbled back three steps, releasing a series of shaky breaths. His heart rushed and ached more than anything he had ever felt. Sickness fell to the pit of his stomach.

Leave. He needed to leave.

His wings tucked closer to his body as he turned, quickly and quietly making way for the door.

Stay. His heart pleaded. Please stay.

No.

No— He couldn’t— He shouldn’t—

Shouldn’t— shouldn’t— shouldn’t—

He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve this.

No one could ever hope to deserve someone as perfect as Elain. Not even himself. No matter how much he felt for her. No matter how much his heart had stirred as heavily as the crash of raging tides. No matter how much his heart yearned for her love, her light, for anything at all.

Elain was not his to love. She was a mated female after all. One who was forcibly shackled to that wretched mating bond like a beast locked in a cage. But even then, oh then, she was not his. Never his.

Azriel silently closed the bedroom door and hastened down the hall, desperately needing some form of space. Of air. Anything to calm his raging and hurting heart.

He quickly reached his room on the opposite side of the house and retreated inside without a thought. Azriel couldn’t even bear to look at his hands, the horrid sight they were. How could he? How could he when he had been so close to tainting her flesh?

Fool.

A fucking fool.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid as to linger. To let himself go astray and even attempt to touch Elain. Especially when she was sleeping, when she was at her most vulnerable— Wrong, it was all so wrong. He should have just left her to sleep in peace the moment he tucked her in.

The Shadowsinger sauntered over to his wardrobe and slowly stripped the leathers from his body, unbuckling the countless amounts of leather belts and undoing all of the strings and buttons. One by one, each article was removed and tossed onto an empty table nearby.

This room seemed empty compared to Elain’s. Lifeless. Most of his things had been moved to the House of Wind, they had been for a while now. So this room was no more than a ghost of what it once was, but even so, it served its purpose well enough.

Leaving none but two siphoned gloves on his hands to rest, Azriel grabbed a set of night pants and slipped them on. He then walked over to his bed and laid atop the fixed covers, facing toward his window to view the sky. Near instantly did the pains of the day’s stressors set back in. He’d forgotten all about them when he was with Elain, he realized. That, and his exhaustion too.

Time always flew when he was by her side. All of his pains and worries seemed to go away in her presence. Everything felt so right when he was with her. But it was wrong. Still, it was wrong. So then why? Why was Elain forced with another? Why, when she felt so right with him instead?

Why were his beloved brothers, Cassian and Rhysand, blessed by the Mother? The Cauldron? With something so lovely, so sacred as love itself? As a bond— Something so few could ever hope to have, that many dreamt about, but Azriel was left alone?

Was he truly so horrible, so unlovable and undeserving that not even the gods could give him that blessing? Did Fate itself really hate him as much?

Azriel couldn’t understand, even when he tried so hard to steel his mind to the pain and misunderstanding. When he tried so hard to make himself think that maybe it’s just not meant to be, and that it was okay.

Happy as he was for his brothers, he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t prevent the pain and envy that so viciously ripped and tore and clawed at his heart like some ravaged beast. Like an unforgiving fiend.

Perhaps he had no right to love and be loved in return.

Perhaps he had no right to experience something as sacred as a mating bond. Not with anyone.

Perhaps Elain had never even begun to see him in the light that he saw her.

Azriel’s eyelids grew heavy and he could no longer fight the ever growing fatigue. His view of the moon outside had begun to fade to black.

Elain…

Her smile alone was the last thought that his clouded mind could muster before the darkness took him, just as it always had, body and soul. Just as he knew it always would.

#elriel #acotar #pro elriel #elain x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain archeron #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #elriel fic #azriel and elain #elain and azriel #azriel x elain

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princess-of-thebes-1995 · 7 months ago

Text

youtube

First Date

Yandere! Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female Mutant Reader

Based in the story line of love thy enemy.

One shot

You couldn't go to sleep well last night. You were so excited and nervous. This was the day your new and first boyfriend, the Head of Security has the evening off.

And he asked you on a date immediately after confessing his love for you. You blushed at the memory. Your crush not only "liked" you back but loved you!

You stuttered like a fool with your face turning red from embarrassment as you mumbled your acceptance and meekly nodded. The Colonel found your response amusing and he chuckled. He kissed your forehead then left for his job at the head office before giving you a cheeky wink.

Meanwhile, the Colonel walked with more confidence in his step. He finally got his girl. He refused to let anyone show it, he was nervous like a young bloke when he snuck you to the balcony where the air pilots flew their vehicles.

The scenery was like a Disney Movie. Then Quaritch cleared his throat and you blinked to look at him. He caressed your lovely sculpted cheekbone and said how he loves you.

He almost laughed out loud when you acted stupid but he didn't want to be mean so he kept his mouth shut.

The whole day dragged on and on. Then finally it was time. The Colonel texted you to meet him down the stairs in the hallway. When he heard your heels, he looked up and his jaw slightly dropped.

The crappy lab coat and nurse outfit was gone. You wore a nice button up dress and a tight skirt that made your ass look more noticable. He wondered how soft your cheeks were if he groped them. But, it's too soon. He doesn't want to scare you.

He took your hand and kissed it when you stood next to him.

While walking to the Marine cafeteria, he held your hand and you ignored the stares of the other staff. You chatted how Grace and Jake got these cool plants that made the quality of medicine better. You can send them home and to your beloved sickly father...

The Colonel was quiet when you mentioned him but he changed the subject by complimenting your makeup.

"I miss the nail salons." You pouted. Quaritch smirked and held out the chair for you to sit.

Quaritch talked about his rounds with the AMP suits and other predators he almost got attacked to help some scientists go to the jungle and get some resources.

The date went well till desert came. The Colonel ordered Gelato. You were minding your own business and eating your sweet treat till you noticed Quaritch looking at you with a naughty expression. You felt your face hot and then you shook your head.

"Don't get any ideas." You firmly stated.

"No ideas here." He grinned mockingly then took out a bite.

You rolled your eyes. "I mean I would never." You awkwardly gestures your index finger to his groin area.

The Colonel said nothing but stared. He looked like he was close to losing his shit.

Then narrowed your eyes. You stood up then dropped the gelato on the plate and began to walk away.

"Wait!"

The Colonel grabbed your hand and spun you around. He titled your chin to look up. "Sorry about that. You are so cute when you get flustered."

He wrapped his strong arm around your shoulder then walked you to your room. Before you bid him good night. He kissed you square on the lips.

You blinked and then the Colonel winked. "We'll work on that." Then he walked away.

You closed your door and giggled and then you checked your phone to see missed video calls from your dad

"Honey, where have you been?" He looked concern when he picked up his phone.

"I met a man."

#avatar #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #stephen lang #miles Quaritch imagine #yandere miles Quaritch x reader #yandere miles quaritch #yandere #Youtube

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midnightmah07 · 5 months ago

Note

In relation to the post you just reposted:

💛 Daisy + Ruggie and/or ❤️ Leona + Isabelle

I’m such a sucker for these to ships if I hadn’t made that evident yet😭😭🩷🩷🩷

GAHH IM HAPPY YOU LIKE THEM 😭😭😭 I have a very clear bias towards these two ships as well mainly bc like. Ruggie is my favorite character and Leona is my second favorite (but I love him almost as much as I love Ruggie- ALMOST)... ANYWAYS🥲

💛 reunion kiss / relief (this is an au where Daisy goes back to her world, but canonically she stays in twisted wonderland)

It has been a few months ever since Daisy has been back from Twisted Wonderland. She was fully back to her life as a servant, and back to sleeping in the attic. It could be worst, she thought, at least she had a place to stay – the attic was very big, her sisters didn't bother her there either – and she saw her mice friends again... But...

She couldn't help but miss NRC.

She missed Grim and his constant talk of being a great mage, she missed Ace and Deuce fighting over the most trivial things, she missed Trein giving her special lessions, Kalim inviting her to parties, Leona ruffling her hair...

She missed Ruggie.

The universe was so cruel to her, it even deprived her of her dreams with her boyfriend– well... Ex-boyfriend, she supposed. Before NRC she always had dreams about a guy, and she realized after a while that it was Ruggie, but now... Now that she needed those dreams to comfort her the most...

She couldn't have them. No matter how hard she tried.

She tried getting herself preoccupied, doing more than necessary, to the point her stepmother commented on her doing way too much. But she needed to do something to take her mind off of him.

So she went to buy groceries this afternoon, hoping that a change of scenery would take her back to reality. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't help but smile upon seeing donuts, thinking to gift them to Ruggie only to remember she couldn't see him; she stumbled across a store selling TVs, and on one of them there was a documentary about hyenas; she felt the groceries a bit too heavy for her, only to remember Ruggie wasn't there to help her carry them.

She stopped walking in the middle of the street, her eyes seemingly unfocused as memories of him flooded her brain.

His smile, his laugh, his fluffy hair, his gentle way of touching her, his way of teasing her... She wanted all of it. She wanted all of it back.

She wanted him back.

"Daisy."

The blonde blinked, her head looking straight ahead, staring at the person who called her fake name, the name no one in this world knew of.

Daisy met grayish blue eyes, a beanie on the familiar locks of dirty blonde hair, and a face filled with freckles, that changed into a smile the moment her eyes met his.

"Ruggie?" She mumbled, almost to herself, not believing what she was seeing. Running to his arms, she let him hug her tightly, not carrying about the groceries falling on the ground. He was here! She had no idea how, but he was! "How–"

Before she could finish asking, he gave her a gentle kiss, her heart beating a mile per second as her eyes began to sting.

She thought she'd never kiss him again.

"I'll explain later, I promise." He said, going back again for another kiss, missing her way too much to speak.

❤️ first kiss / realization

"Wake up." Isabelle's eyes opened slowly at the call, rubbing her eyes as she felt her back and neck sore from the position she fell asleep in. "And you call me lazy."

"I'm not being lazy..." She contained a yawn, making Leona laugh. "I couldn't sleep well last night, give me a break."

The beastman shifted his attention to the wall across from them, changing the position of his legs as he cleared his throat. "You ok?"

Isabelle lifted an eyebrow at that, but felt an odd satisfaction by the question. She pushed it aside though, she had no reason to be happy about him asking if she was ok, he was simply being decent.

"Yeah, just a bit tired."

"Why couldn't you sleep? Had a nightmare or something?" He asked in a teasing manner, and Isabelle rolled her eyes at that.

"No. I'm not a child."

"Never said you were." He continued, the smirk still prevalent on his face, making Isabelle look at him and scowl in annoyance. "Though I guess you could be mistaken by one if looking from afar... You do have the height of one."

Isabelle clicked her tongue, crossing her arms and looking elsewhere. She wasn't in the mood for their usual bickering, not after what happened last night before she fell asleep.

When she realized she had harbored feelings for him.

Even now, it was hard to act normal around Leona. She felt her heard beating faster, she was anxious, and couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness around him. She couldn't even deny it any longer, and that, she supposed, was what irritated her. That she was actually in love with him, of all people.

Leona realized she didn't answer, using his hand to poke her cheek, getting her attention. "You seem strange. You sure you're ok?" He asked, tilting his head, genuine worry in his voice even when he tried to mask it. "I could call a doctor."

"No, I'm– I'm alright, just a bit tired, like I said." Isabelle explained, moving her head to his direction in order to look him in the eyes and explain the situation.

She didn't realize just how close he was to her though.

His face was merely centimeters close to hers, she could feel his breath on her face. Suddenly she froze, not sure of what to do in that moment as she kept opening her mouth to try and say something, but she quickly closed it in fear of stuttering and giving out just how nervous she was by something so stupid as their proximity.

Why was she freaking out anyway? It wasn't like anything would happen, he'd just– you know, distance himself and go back to being silent, letting her sleep again. Surely.

Then why was he getting closer?

Isabelle instinctively closed her eyes, her nose crinkling a bit and she heard Leona chuckle. His hand moved to her face, and before she knew it he was kissing her. Isabelle's body was stiff, she didn't even do anything, she just stood there in awe. It wasn't like she wasn't enjoying it, quite the opposite actually but– she didn't know what to do.

The kiss was simple, it wasn't deep, their mouths were close throughout the whole process, it felt more like a long peck than an actual kiss, but it drove her absolutely insane.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead on hers, his eyes averting her gaze. He moved away, crossing his arms again and going back to the same position he was a few seconds ago. Isabelle blinked in confusion. That was it? She cleared her throat in embarrassment as her heart sinked a little by his lack of reaction.

"You can use my shoulder. To rest, I mean. Better than straining your neck." She noticed his leg going up and down as he looked at the ground. She smiled, maybe he was just as embarrassed as her.

"Thank you." With that, she rested her head on his shoulder, melting because of his touch, a happy sigh escaping her.

Fine, maybe being in love with him wasn't all that bad.

#💙! mah's answers #again #not proof read #ty for the suggestions!!!#i think these were surprisingly hard?#💙! daiggie #💙! leobelle

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 1 year ago

Text

I’m Not Going Anywhere

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Jerry Schilling, Vernon Presley

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6734

Summary: All she needs is a little quiet.

Tags/Warnings: Depression, Post Natal Depression, Established Relationship, Marriage, Hugs, Baby Blues, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Guns, Self-Harm, Miscarriage, Cheating, Self-Hatred, Self Loathing, Jealousy, Crying,

Notes: Okay so this is the sadder one of the ones I’ve got planned so enjoy.

ELVIS MASTERLIST

Elvis stirred from sleep. He didn’t know what it was but he could feel his brain pulling him to consciousness as he tried to grapple a few more minutes of shut eye. Maybe it was the fact light had started to spill out from underneath the heavy black-out curtains, just a crack but enough to signal that dawn was coming. Maybe it was the fact the temperature had finally dropped meaning that the valiant effort the air conditioning unit had been making was now futile leaving him chillier than intended. Or maybe it was the fact that when he rolled over, his hand seeking out the soft skin of his wife’s stomach he was met with cold sheets instead. Whether it was one thing or a culmination it still pulled him to the surface, forcing his eyes to open as he surveyed the room. It was still, the only movement caused by him as he sat up, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. As he rested his head back against the padded headboard he sighed, wondering if the couple of pills he’d downed before he’d headed to bed would still be able to take effect and yank him back to slumber though as he heard the faint sounds of his daughter’s crying any effects they would have had were immediately dismissed. So he decided to climb out of bed, his feet sliding into the slippers by the side of it before he stood and headed for the door.

Yet to his surprise when he rounded the door of the nursery he found it was empty. His daughter wasn’t snuggled in her crib or tucked up on the chest of his wife as he had expected though as he heard the continued crying he figured he knew where they’d be. And so with a sigh he headed down the hall to find them. It had been like this ever since they’d come out to California. He loved his daughter, more than he’d ever thought possible, yet he couldn’t deny that she was a handful. She loved being held, crying whenever anyone dared to put her down, something that had gotten worse since they’d come out west. He didn’t know if it was because he was now filming every day, their little family disbanded much to Nancy’s chagrin, or whether it was the change in scenery but whatever it was his little girl wasn’t keen. And yet Lori had been amazing even with the upheaval of a new film schedule she’d taken to motherhood like she’d done it for years before now, a complaint never leaving her lips. He figured that was probably where she was now, Nancy cradled in her arms as she rocked her back and forth walking miles and miles around the living room as she tried desperately to get her to sleep. She’d probably moved further away from the bedroom so that he could sleep and be fresh for his early morning shoot, a thought that made his heart flutter with love.

He padded down the hallway following the wails as they got louder and louder yet as he passed by each room he found them deserted too. In fact the only person he found up was Mary, his longstanding maid now turned nanny, standing in the kitchen making a pot of coffee looking as though she’d just been roused from sleep herself. She didn’t notice him at first but as she turned a look of surprise danced across her face.

‘Jeez Mr Presley. I didn’t hear ya come in! Scared me to death,’ she said clutching her robe closer around her before she moved to pour herself a cup.

‘Sorry I didn’t mean to scare ya,’ he said offering her a smile which she returned, ‘what are you doing up?’

‘Oh I heard the baby,’ she said, with a yawn, ‘she’s been cryin’ a while I figured I’d see if Mrs Presley needed a hand y’know.’

‘Not before reinforcements huh?’ Elvis chuckled gesturing to the coffee cup she now had in hand.

‘Well I don’t doubt it’s needed,’ she smiled, ‘I figured I’d bring her a cup too. Is she in the nursery?’

‘No,’ Elvis said, ‘I thought she was up this end of the house.’

‘You haven’t seen her?’ Mary asked, a flash of worry dancing across her face that Elvis didn’t fail to miss.

‘No, why? Isn’t she up here?’ Elvis said.

‘No,’ Mary said, as both of them realised they could still hear the faint crying of a baby though admittedly it sounded far too distant to be any of the rooms close by. In fact it sounded as though it was miles away, a sentiment Mary echoed as she said, ‘does that sound like it’s coming from-’

‘The garage,’ Elvis confirmed.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth before she was gone headed down the long winding hall towards the sounds of wailing with Elvis hot on her tail.

‘What’s going on?’ Elvis asked but she ignored him, something that only made his nerves increase, as did the way she rushed into the garage. The lights were on in there, the harshness of the fluorescents stinging his eyes as the piercing screams of his little girl finally hit his ear at their full potential. It took him a minute to take everything in , standing there gawping as Mary clambered through the open door of the car that was still chugging away to itself so that she could retrieve the baby from the car seat she had been strapped to. In fact he only seemed to come to as she pulled her out, nestling her against her motherly bosom which caused her to settle. Yet as he did it dawned on Elvis that Lori was nowhere to be found.

‘Jeez it’s freezing in here,’ came a voice from behind them and Elvis turned to find Jerry standing in the doorway, his eyes squinted as Elvis’ had been.

‘Have you seen Lor?’ Elvis asked worry now mounting inside him at the scene.

‘Nah,’ Jerry said, ‘I heard y’all run past my room though everything okay?’

‘I don’t know,’ Elvis said realising that was the only answer he could give because he truly didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t understand any of it. He didn’t understand why Nancy was in here, strapped to her car seat and then abandoned, noxious fumes and low temperatures taunting her tiny body as she screamed for someone to notice her. Where the hell was Lori? Had she intended to take her out and not come back? Had she been taken? Was she hurt? As panic started to set in he found his attention being pulled back to Mary who was now rocking the babe in her arms, cooing as she offered pitiful whimpers in return.

‘Sssh, it’s okay. I gotchu baby,’ Mary whispered.

‘She alright?’ Elvis asked, trying to suppress his worry for his wife down just enough to make sure his daughter wasn’t too traumatised only to find that when he tucked his finger under his daughter’s chin it was nearing ice cold, ‘christ she’s frozen.’

‘I know,’ Mary said, her face now grimmer than Elvis’ had hoped for, ‘I think I better get her inside. Get her warmed up.’

‘Yeah, yeah you’re right,’ Elvis agreed, thankful that at least some of his worries could be laid to rest. If Mary was tending to his little girl he could focus on finding out what the hell was going on.

‘You should look for Lori,’ Mary said cutting him from his thoughts, ‘I’ll come to help once she’s settled okay?’

‘Right,’ Elvis agreed watching as she disappeared back into the house. Jerry was still hanging by the door looking as confused as Elvis felt but he didn’t waste any time before he was barking orders at the younger man, demanding he sweep back through the house and out to the front yard whilst Elvis headed out back. As Jerry nodded and disappeared back the way Mary had left Elvis headed out through the back of the garage into their vast back garden.

It wasn’t completely light out yet and there was a definite nip to the air as he padded through the dew-dropped grass but it was clear enough to see far out into the valley. He didn’t have to look far though to find her. She was just beyond their property line, standing on the bit of land that was neither well manicured lawn nor dry desert hills. A bit of land that was neither theirs nor the city of californias. In limbo between the safety of their house and the steep rocky drop just a few inches away from her feet.

Again that panic flooded him and Elvis rushed forward, expecting her to turn around as she heard his footsteps approach but she didn’t move. Instead she stood still, looking out at the world below as if he wasn’t even there. It made his blood run cold.

‘Lor?’ he said as he neared her, again waiting for any signal she’d heard him, ‘Lor what are you doing out here?’

‘She won’t stop,’ she replied flatly.

‘What?’ Elvis asked.

‘She won’t stop crying, she won’t stop, she won’t stop,’ Lori said, the same heartbreak in her voice that had been echoed in his daughter’s screams.

‘Well, it’s no wonder. She’s freezing,’ he said, unable to wrap his head around her words. After all he didn’t blame his little girl for her continued crying in fact he doubted he’d stop screaming if he was freezing cold and alone with no explanation as to why.

‘It won’t stop,’ she repeated, ‘none of it stops.’

‘Doll what are you talking about?’ Elvis asked.

‘She won’t stop. She won’t stop. She won’t stop,’ Lori repeated. Elvis faltered as the pit in his stomach started to grow, resembling that of the valley below.

‘Lor you’re scaring me,’ he said.

‘I can’t get her to stop,’ Lori said in a voice so broken Elvis felt as though it may as well be a dagger to his heart, ‘she won’t sleep. She won’t eat. I pick her up, she cries. I put her down, she cries. Everything I do, she cries. She cries because she hates me, she hates me-’

‘That ain’t true,’ Elvis protested but Lori didn’t seem to be listening. In fact it felt as though she wasn’t replying to him but rather she was on her own, offering these grievances to the world, something that was confirmed as she repeated herself once more as if he hadn’t even spoken.

‘She won’t stop.’

‘Lor,’ he said moving towards her. He was close, so close he was sure he felt his fingertips graze her wrist but that seemed to be what finally snapped her out of whatever trance she’d been in.

‘No! No, you don’t understand! No one understands!’ she screamed, whipping around to look at him, her big blue eyes watching him brokenly as fresh tears rolled down the pre-made tracks on her cheeks. If he’d been startled before this sudden movement shocked him as did the way she brought her hands to her face, the 25-caliber Smith and Wesson he kept in his glove box clutched in one of them. Elvis was never scared of guns but in that second he was terrified, not because it was there, but by the look in her eyes before she closed them as if trying to get herself together enough not to pull the trigger.

‘Baby,’ he said, his heart thumping in his throat, threatening to choke the words out, ‘baby you’re really scaring me okay? Just put the gun down okay? We can talk about all this-’

‘No, no you don’t understand,’ she whimpered, the cool metal barrel rubbing against her temple making his stomach lurch once more, ‘I just need it to stop. I just need it all to stop and be quiet. Once it’s quiet it’ll stop. I need to make it stop.’

‘Honey please,’ Elvis said. She was still whispering to herself but her eyes had closed now and he edged forward hoping he’d be able to get the gun out of her hand before she even realised he was there but he was foiled as Jerry spoke, evidently too far away to appreciate the scene before him as he said, ‘oh you found her.’

As his words floated out into the night air Lori’s eyes snapped open and Elvis saw them flash with fear as she noticed how close he was before she backed up, nearing the edge of the drop as she said, ‘no! Don’t come any closer!’

‘Okay, okay, we’re not going anywhere okay? We’re gonna stay where we are but you too okay just don’t move,’ Elvis said throwing his hands up in defence as he looked towards Jerry who was now watching bewildered from up on their landscaped terrace. Jerry nodded and stayed still though he could tell he was roving through just as many options as he was. None of which included the gun or the drop below. Though whatever thoughts he had left his mind as she turned around looking back out to the valley as she whispered to herself, ‘I can make it stop. I can make it stop. If I can make her happy she’ll stop and I’ll be happy if I could just think-’

‘Lori!’ came another voice but this time Elvis didn’t turn to look at it. He couldn’t keep his eyes off his wife’s bare feet, how her toes nudged the edge of the rock, beckoning him to fling himself forward and pull her into his arms to safety. Though this time the sound of someone else didn’t seem to initiate any panic. In fact the garble of words that had been spewing from her stopped, her demeanour calming just a tad as she said, ‘Mary?’

‘Lori baby don’t you dare take one more step!’ Mary said firmly. With that Elvis’ eyes betrayed him as they darted to where she was stood next to Jerry the same knowing look of panic she’d had in the kitchen splayed across her face.

‘She won’t stop,’ Lori said though this time it was less of a mantra and more of an answer. An answer that didn’t seem to confuse his kind-faced maid as she said, ‘oh honey I know. I know but it’s okay.’

‘I just need everything to stop,’ Lori sobbed, ‘why won’t she stop? I give her everything it’s like she knows I’m not a good mom, like he knew.’

‘Don’t you dare say that!’ Mary snapped, ‘that is not true and you know it!’

‘I’m not a good mom or a good wife,’ Lori sobbed making Elvis’ heart break into pieces at the way she sounded so broken.

How could think that? How could she possibly think she wasn’t a good wife, a good mother? It begged belief. She’d been amazing throughout their marriage, her pregnancy, these first few months. More to the point how could she have gotten to this point without him noticing? How could he be stood watching her like a stranger looking at someone else’s life whilst she spoke of her heartbreak and pain to his maid? He loved Mary but how had she come to know his own wife better than him? Had he been that oblivious? Had he been that selfish?

‘Lori now you listen to me okay baby? Ya listening?’ Mary asked and though she didn’t turn around she moved her head just enough to signal Mary had the floor, her broken sobs falling quietly from her as the older woman said, ‘now I can tell you that little girl in there loves you so much. I promise you okay.’

‘Then why won’t she stop?’ Lori cried.

‘Oh honey,’ Mary said, ‘babies can be fussy, they like pushin’ buttons and it’s always the Mama who gets the brunt of it because well we’re there front and centre every damn day but let me tell you this. There ain’t a baby in this world who ain’t felt better bein’ held by their mama and if you do sumthin’ stupid well she’ll lose that and we can’t have that now can we.’

‘I’ve tried everything,’ Lori whispered.

‘I know and I know you’re exhausted and I know you ain’t in the right head space right now but I promise you she needs okay. We all do,’ Mary said firmly.

‘Yeah right,’ Lori scoffed. Mary sighed.

‘I know what you think but baby it ain’t true,’ Mary said.

‘So why didn’t they stay? Why doesn’t he stay?’ she asked.

‘Some things aren’t meant to be,’ Mary said sadly, ‘but that’s no one’s fault besides if things had gone different you wouldn’t have Nancy and she loves you, honey. Elvis loves you, hell, you think if he didn’t he’d be out here beggin’ you not to do something stupid. Right Elvis?’

‘Lori I love you so much,’ Elvis said the words spilling out without question even though he was still trying to wrap his head around everything. Every word that Mary uttered came out as though she was speaking a foreign language he was so lost in what was going on but for that he didn’t need time to think. He loved Lori.

‘It hurts,’ she said a sob leaving her that hurt Elvis in return.

‘I know,’ Mary sighed, ‘I know baby but it’s like we talked about remember?’

‘I tried so hard,’ she whispered.

‘I know and you ain’t failed. The fact you’ve carried on day after day proves that,’ Mary said.

‘I just don’t know what to do anymore,’ Lori admitted.

‘Well we’ll figure that out together okay? Just come back from the edge,’ Mary said. When she failed to move Elvis found words coming from his lips once again without thought, ‘Lor please.’

And for the first time she seemed to hear him, really hear him as though she was responding to him and not just uttering her heartbreak to the void. When she turned her expression was still broken, tears falling from her eyes as she sobbed to herself before she whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

And with that whatever had been holding her together seemed to fall apart as everything went into slow motion. As the gun hit the arid desert floor he lurched forward wrapping himself around her and pulling her away from the edge as she dropped into an uncoordinated heap into his arms. He could hear the sound of people moving, Jerry kicking the gun well out of reach as he got to their side in seconds but he wasn’t focused on that in fact he could barely hear them talking as he held her to him rocking her as he tried to push down the ache in his gut as she whispered, ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ was all he could reply, his words mumbled into her hair as he matched her word for word, ‘it’s okay.’

He didn’t know how long they stayed there sitting on the damp rocky floor of the cliffside but as she finally fell silent he came to as if her words had been earplugs preventing him from hearing anyone else. As he glanced around he found Jerry stood nearby, unsure as to how to proceed, and Mary still standing up on the ledge, unable to get down. After a moment the three of them seemed to agree it was best to make a move and so he shifted, trying to peak at her tear-stained face to see if she was ready.

‘Lor,’ Elvis said, a crack in his voice from where he’d been crying, silent streams of tears running down his face as he held her. Wide blue eyes found his and yet she didn’t speak but watch him silently, ‘Jer’s gon’ help you up and then we’re gonna get you inside, okay?’

Again she didn’t speak but the tiny nod she offered seemed to make them all breathe a sigh of relief. As Jerry took her into his arms, pulling her onto her feet and not letting go as she clung to him, Elvis pushed himself up from the ground, ignoring how damp his backside had become from sitting there for god knows how long. He was back at her side in an instant taking Jerry’s place as they headed to the garden where he only let her go for a moment, pushing her toward where Mary and Jerry were waiting to help her back onto higher ground. He climbed up a moment later yet this time he couldn’t get near. Where he had pulled her to him, nestling her into his side, he was now replaced his job taken by Mary who was holding his wife against her side, stroking her hair as she said, ‘oh sweetheart.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lori said, the first words she offered shaky and hoarse, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you all like I just-’

‘I know baby,’ Mary cooed though her eyes drifted past Lori landing on Elvis who was walking a fraction of a second behind them. Yet it wasn’t the kind face he’d seen before nor the worried one. Now she was watching him with a glare.

‘I just she was crying and that dog and the gun was just there-’

‘Sssh, it’s okay,’ Mary said, ‘look let’s get you inside okay? How about we get you a nice warm drink and a bath huh?’

‘Okay,’ Lori sniffed though she was only content for a moment before she asked in a panicked voice, ‘where’s the baby?’

‘She’s inside with Helen,’ Mary said.

‘Is she okay?’ Lori sniffed.

‘She’s fine,’ Mary said, ‘but how about we see her later? Let’s get you fixed first.’

‘Okay,’ Lori said quietly.

They were inside now, the warmth of the house making Elvis’ skin itch as it touched him, not that it mattered. His only focus was the back of Lori’s head as she disappeared into the bathroom though as he went to follow her the door was blocked by a very stern-looking Mary.

‘Mary-’

‘You should call a doctor,’ she said seriously.

‘I’m not leaving my wife,’ Elvis said in a matching tone though as he tried to push past he stopped her as she placed her arm across the door jamb blocking him from entering.

‘Trust me,’ she said and though there was still a good dose of ire in her tone he could tell that this was not the time to be going against her. Not when she clearly seemed to know more about the situation than he did and so with a sigh he pulled back. She offered him a smile then, a small one but a smile nonetheless, and then disappeared into the bathroom leaving him staring at a bathroom door at a loss.

After that everything seemed to pass in a blur. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said on the phone when he’d called for a doctor or what he and Jerry spoke about as they hunched over in the living room, a stiff drink in hand. He’d barely been able to recount what had happened when his daddy showed up, looking just as bewildered as Elvis felt at the state of his daughter-in-law. And he’d barely been able to offer thanks to Helen, his other maid, who’d appeared for just a moment announcing she’d left the baby with Charlie before disappearing again to go and help the girls. Though the mention of Nancy was enough to bring him out his worries for his wife just a little because as he thought of his little girl alone and screaming in the back of that car his heart felt as though it might break even further. How had it even gotten to that? What had she been thinking?

No, Elvis reasoned. She wasn’t thinking. She couldn’t have been thinking because his Lori wouldn’t hurt their baby girl not intentionally at least. She wasn’t thinking. She wasn’t in her right mind. The way she’d been chanting to herself over and over had to prove that right? But what was he supposed to do now? What if it happened again? What if something worse happened? He didn’t understand. He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it and yet it was all he could think about as he paced the ornate wooden floors of the living room his mind was only on her.

In fact he only came out of his thoughts when he heard Mary enter, the pair of them sharing a grave look before he headed towards the drinks cabinet and said, ‘I need a drink.’

‘Have you left her alone?’ Elvis asked earning a glare in reply as Mary poured herself a shot of whiskey before saying, ‘boy do I look stupid?

‘Sorry,’ Elvis said, of course she wouldn’t have. Mary didn’t appear to be paying him much attention though too busy downing a shot of whiskey as he said, ‘where is she?’

‘I left her with Helen,’ Mary said, finally looking at him as she popped the glass on the sideboard, ‘babys with Charlie.’

‘Right,’ Elvis nodded and he suddenly felt awkward as if asking all the questions he wanted to was somehow improper. Still, he couldn’t wait much longer, the mental gymnastics he’d been doing over the whole thing slowly turning to torture and so he threw himself on his maid’s mercy, hoping whatever grievance she seemed to be holding against him would be waived at least just for now as he said, ‘how is she? What’s going on?’

‘Now you wanna know,’ Mary snorted.

‘She’s my wife tell me what the hell is going on-’ he started, his own irritation bubbling to the service though she didn’t relent. In fact, she reminded him of his mother the way she jabbed a finger towards him and said, ‘don’t you what the hell me boy!’

‘She’s my wife!’ Elvis shouted.

‘So how come ya ain’t a clue huh?’ Mary bit back.

‘Maybe we should sit down,’ Jerry interjected standing up from the chair he’d been sat in and forcing himself between them as they’d gotten closer, as if squaring for a fight.

The older woman said nothing but moved to make herself another drink, slipping into a seat as Jerry suggested as Elvis stilled himself. Jerry had a point, now was not the time to be flying off the handle not when he needed to find out what was going on. So he relented and slipped down into the chair opposite her waiting for her to tell him what he’d missed but she didn’t. She seemed to be in her own world, sipping whiskey and thinking. She only looked up when he said, ‘what happened?’

‘The baby wouldn’t stop cryin’,’ she said, again causing irritation to pick at the edges of his brain though he kept his tone fairly even as he replied, ‘yeah I gathered that.’

‘It’s my own fault,’ she mused, ‘I thought she’d be safe. I thought now you were here she’d be okay. She promised me-’

‘Mary what’s going on?’ he said, the only emotion present in his voice true an utter brokenness which Mary seemed to hear, her pensive face becoming the sympathetic one he’d come to know over the years. It had been the way she’d looked at him when his Mama died. Except there was something behind it, something he could recognise because he was feeling it too, guilt.

‘I thought it was the baby blues y’know,’ she said sadly ‘some women can get awful sad after a baby and it don’t help when they’re fussy like Nancy is but I shoulda known she weren’t right. I mean I’ve had four myself I should’ve seen she weren’t herself especially after last time but she told me she was well and I thought that maybe havin’ you here had made all the difference y’know. But I should’ve known she wasn’t telling the truth.’

‘What do you mean not right?’ Elvis asked, the icy pit in his stomach forming once more as Mary’s face fell.

‘She hasn’t told you has she?’ Mary said.

‘No,’ Elvis admitted, the pit turning to a chasm.

‘Any of it?’ she continued.

‘No.’

‘Dear Lord,’ Mary sighed, flopping back into the chair as she shook her head. With that he couldn’t wait any longer, the pleading in his voice returning as he said, ‘please tell me.’

‘It ain’t easy listening,’ Mary said sadly.

‘Please,’ was all he could say in return. She looked at him with that same sad look, fiddling with her glass before she set it down on the coffee table and sighed.

‘Well it started with her being a little off-side, mostly when you weren’t around,’ she said pausing as though she didn’t know how to get out what she wanted to or more likely how to say it without being as venomous as she wanted to, ‘workin’ and such. She was mopey, sitting in her room all day n’ night but then you’d come back and she’d be back to normal…’ she said offering him a smile that didn’t reassure him one bit, ‘for a while but each time you left it hit a little harder and then…’

She paused after that as if the words refused to come out of her mouth. His blood felt like ice in his veins and his throat was so dry he wasn’t even sure how he managed to croak the word out, ‘then?’

‘Well, she started gettin’ upset about…certain people in your life, comparin’ herself and such,’ she said, again fiddling with her glass as though she’d overstepped and Elvis could feel his cheeks tinge pink with insinuation but she didn’t stop, his embarrassment seemingly the least of her worries, ‘I told her that it wasn’t personal. That it wasn’t her fault or anything she did it was just the way…men work sometimes. They think the grass is greener.’

At that his embarrassment seemed to catch onto her and though there was never anything explicitly said Elvis knew what she meant. The other women. He tried to resist, he always did, but it always ended up the same. He always ended up weak and ashamed but he had always managed to keep it hidden, or so he’d thought, and the idea that he hadn’t, that his behaviour had hurt her shattered him. Unfortunately Mary didn’t seem bothered about breaking him to further pieces as she continued, ‘but she was obsessed about it. Thinkin’ she wasn’t a good enough wife but then she got pregnant and well I was elated 'cause I hoped this would be the thing that sold her on it y’know. I hoped it’d make her see she was good enough or that it’d make you happy enough you’d…’ she paused then not that it mattered as her words had had already ruined him and was no longer concerned about an employee stepping out of line with the boss, ‘but then she miscarried.’

‘Wait what?!?’ Elvis gasped.

‘I begged her to tell you but she was scared you would think this was proof she wasn’t a good wife-’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Elvis said sick to his stomach that his wife could even think of him like that.

‘I know that,’ she said sympathetically, the tears in her eyes matching his, ‘but I couldn’t make her see sense and then one day I found her on the bathroom floor…near dead.’

‘Jesus,’ Jerry said, the only words he’d uttered since the whole tale began. Yet as their eyes met Elvis found he couldn’t speak any more, the shock taking his words from him as he tried to wrap his head around the whole thing.

How could all this have happened and he not have known? How could she have nearly died and he not know? How could he come home to Memphis and find her waiting for him as if nothing had happened in between, a pretty smile on her sweet face and an open arm willing to accommodate him however he needed when she was going through hell?

‘She said it was an accident, said she’d mixed up the pills she had meant to take and it’d knocked her out cold-’

‘And you believed her?’ Elvis asked incredulously, his shame and disbelief turning to anger. Him not noticing was bad enough but to have people who knew but didn’t say anything what chance did he have?

‘What choice did I have?’ Mary snapped before sighing and rubbing her brow, ‘I couldn’t prove it and she told me I had to drop it or that’d be it. And then I worried she’d have no one lookin’ out for her if I weren’t around. But then she got pregnant again and I was so worried about her but… it was different this time. You were home and she seemed to be doing better, she stopped leaning on me and I let her because I thought she was leaning on you that’s why I thought she’d be okay.’

‘But you came anyway,’ Elvis said. He’d thought it odd, that she’d been insistent in coming to California with them when they already had a housekeeper out there but he’d figured it had been to help with the baby, something she’d been doing since Nancy had arrived.

‘I came for my own peace of mind,’ she said.

They fell quiet for a moment. Then again what was there to say? How was he supposed to get his head around any of this? He’d been living in bliss. He had his wife and a new baby. She’d taken care of everything, the way she always had, only for him to find out it was all a lie. That he’d failed her so much she’d felt unable to show him herself as she was. That she’d been so scared he’d leave her she’d forced herself to be well until she couldn’t do it anymore. Until she’d ended up with a gun in her hand begging for peace.

‘How long?’ he said, the nauseated feeling never leaving him as he looked at her, a confused look dancing across her features.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘How long has this been going on without me even noticing?’ he asked.

‘Eighteen months,’ Mary said quietly.

‘I feel sick,’ Elvis said forcing himself from the chair so that he could pace. He couldn’t sit there any longer the weight of everything on his shoulders. A year and a half. How had he been oblivious to his own life for a year and a half? Sure he’d been busy, the Colonel working him to the bone, but not that busy. Yet he didn’t have time to try and make himself feel better as Mary was by his side, her small hands reaching up to touch his shoulders as she stopped him pacing.

‘Listen to me,’ she said firmly, ‘this ain’t about you.’

‘But-’

‘This is about that woman in there. That woman in there needs you now. She needs you to be strong for her because she’s been tryin’ her best for far too long so god knows you can do it for a goddamn minute!’

‘I just,’ Elvis started, his voice thick with tears, ‘I just don’t know what to do. Mary, please tell me what to do.’

‘Hold her,’ Mary said, stroking his face with a sad smile on her own, ‘tell her you love her and tell her we’re gonna get her the help she needs. It ain’t about you. Whatever problems you got goin’ on they don’t get a look in for now ya here me?’

‘Yes,’ Elvis said, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over as she watched him, ‘Mary I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said firmly, ‘just be what she needs now.’

After quickly brushing the tears from his face he straightened up, nodding at Mary and then at Jerry who offered him the same sad smile before he headed down towards the bathroom he’d left her in. He knocked but didn’t leave it long enough for any response to be offered before heading inside, his nerves getting the better of him now that he was so close to seeing her. She was sitting on the toilet seat, Helen behind her humming gently as she combed through her damp brown locks, but they both looked up as he came in. He didn’t say a word and instead just sunk to his knees in front of her, his hands grasping her own as she dropped her gaze, sorrow plastered across her face.

‘I’ll leave you be,’ Helen said quietly before she ducked out of the room. Elvis barely registered her his eyes locked on his wife who seemed determined not to make eye contact with him. Shame. He recognised it because it was what was consuming him at that very moment.

‘Baby,’ he said moving to stroke her cheek gently in the hopes she’d look at him.

‘Where’s Nancy?’ she asked with a sniffle.

‘Charlie’s got her,’ he said earning himself a small nod.

‘I didn’t mean for her to get hurt,’ she said.

‘Lor,’ he whispered.

‘It was that damn dog next door. Every time she settled that damn thing would bark again and we were right back to square one-’

‘Lori look at me,’ he said but she refused to staring towards the floor as if the bright white tile was the one owed an explanation about her behaviour.

‘So I was just gonna take her for a ride then I found your gun-’

‘Lori.’

‘And I thought I’d scare the stupid thing but when I got outside-’

‘Lor look at me,’ he begged and though it took a moment her bright blue eyes met his already swimming with tears as she said, ‘it was just quiet out there,’ she said tears spilling down her face as she spoke, ‘I just needed the quiet.’

‘It’s okay,’ Elvis said as he took her face in his hands pressing his forehead to hers.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ she said pulling away from him.

‘Don’t you be sorry! Don’t you dare apologise! I’m the one who should be sorry, I should be damn ashamed of myself for not noticing everythin’ you’ve been going through hell I ain’t worth the ground you walk on for makin’ you feel this way,’ Elvis said firmly.

‘That’s the thing,’ she sniffled, ‘I don’t know if it is you that makes me feel this way. I don’t know why I do.’

And with that a fresh flood of tears her and she pushed herself forward, flinging her arms around him as she buried her face in his neck. It took him a moment to respond but once he did he pulled back, moving onto the floor and pulling her with him until she was curled in his lap. The tile of the floor was cool against his silk-covered limbs but he didn’t register it, too focused on the girl crying in his arms as he tried to hide his own tears. Mary was right. Now wasn’t about him, it was about her. His wife, the woman he’d failed for far too long. The woman who’d found herself on the edge of a cliff trying to escape the suffocation of their life. A suffocation he felt all too well except he’d fooled himself into feeling better by indulging in other women, pills, and a good time. It was ironic in a way, that he’d made his wife feel just as broken as he was by trying to search for something to put himself back together, but as she lay there in his arms, clinging to him for what he realised was the first time in an age, he realised nothing would’ve made him feel more broken than losing her altogether. So he needed to get together, to be there, to be better. He just hoped it was something he could do.

He didn’t know how long they stayed there, her cradled in his arms as tears flowed freely from the pair of them but eventually they started to ebb whether it was a natural plateau or they’d simply dehydrated themselves but eventually they both fell silent, the only thing to be heard their shaky spent breathing. After a minute of listening to her he shifted and though he felt her glance up at him he didn’t look down, too scared it’d bring on another wave of crying. Instead he cleared his throat and murmured, ‘Lor?’

‘Mmm?’ she said, her fingers fiddling with his pyjama buttons.

‘Mary told me,’ he said his throat catching as he thought about just everything his maid had informed him of, ‘about everything.’

‘Oh,’ was all she said in reply.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked, hoping his questioning didn’t sound too accusatory.

‘Didn’t want you to think ill of me,’ she said truthfully.

‘I’d never think that,’ Elvis protested though as she fell quiet he felt the need to prove that sentiment, ‘maybe I could’ve helped.’

‘By sending me to the loony bin?’ she said with a half-hearted scoff.

‘No,’ Elvis protested, ‘but maybe we can talk to someone about it. I mean maybe there’s a pill or something that could help.’

‘Maybe,’ she said weakly though the fear in her voice crept in as she added, ‘El…what if I never get better? What if I always feel like this?’

‘Let’s not think like that,’ Elvis said.

‘I could you know and if that happens you can leave. I wouldn’t blame you,’ she said sadly.

‘I’m not going anywhere baby,’ he said firmly, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #elvis #elvis fic #elvis presley #elvis presley x ofc #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x original female character #quiet

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dracofuego · 2 years ago

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A Strange Thing Called Love pt. 3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Genre: Slowburn, Angst, a bit of Fluff

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: So sorry for the delay! For this chapter I also added a tiny portion of Draco's thoughts. This is something I am experimenting and am debating whether I want to incorporate this in the future chapters. I still hope you all enjoy reading!

Parts:01 | 02

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Chapter 3: Linger

A storm of dread drenched you for the past two weeks. Since that night at the Astronomy Tower, Draco has been avoiding you. That very next day in potions, he sat near the back of the classroom. Whenever you tried to catch his gaze he would intentionally avert your direction.

It was preposterous the amount of times you tried to get his attention for him to simply turn a blind eye. Concern and confusion were only the few things that were crossing your mind as you tried to make sense of him. Nonetheless, if he wasn’t acknowledging your presence now then it was simply foolish to believe otherwise.

The night at the Astronomy Tower was the first time you believed you saw the genuine side of Draco, and it only made your feelings for him grow stronger. You have never seen him be so gentle with anyone, and you felt lucky that you were able to experience seeing that. Feeling despaired, you thought maybe you scared him off with your conversation about the constellations, particularly the one where you mentioned that one of your favorites is Draco. Thinking back, it was absolutely ludicrous. If only you could go back to that night and prevent the words from coming out of your mouth.

But this is reality and to your dismay, the situation is more complicated than that. Grabbing the soft fabric that was hanging on your feet, you pull it over your body as your back lays flat against the stiff mattress. You stare at the nothingness of the dark ceiling until you fall into a dreamless sleep.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The rays of sunlight fell against the parchment paper of your notebook that laid on top of your lap, the light bouncing back up to the leaves of the towering tree above your head as it reflected off each red, yellow and orange mellow sweetness. The light breeze brushed along the edges of the leaves, letting them dance happily. Waft of earthy musk reaches your olfactory senses as your eyes catch sight of the scenery in front of you. The placid water stretches for miles ahead while flakes of gold reflect on its smooth surface. Setting your notebook to the side, you take off your shoes and deftly avoid stepping on the loamy soils and rough pebbles hidden beneath the grass, each step bringing you closer to the lake.

Goosebumps crawl all over you as the icy water wraps around both your ankles. Lifting up your robe a bit higher, you walk further into the water. Your feet adjust to its temperature, and you merely admire the beauty gifted by mother nature. Inhaling a deep breath, you feel your diaphragm contract, as the fresh air flows to your lungs and enters your bloodstream before breathing out.

Looking back down at the water, you see your reflection staring back at you. You stay there for a moment observing it. There is a solemn expression; a hint of absence present on the once filled brightly eyed orbs. Unable to watch any longer, your hand reaches into the water and pushes it away. The image is immediately disrupted, and all you see are the vibrational movements of the water.

Going back to your spot you slump back down against the tree, placing the dark soft fabric on your wet feet along with your black shoes. Wanting to try and distract your pessimistic thoughts, you close your eyes and try to place your mind somewhere peaceful. A huge landscape appears, the vibrant green grass covering most of the ground as you lay down in a white, elegant dress. Your hands reach up to the soft fluffy clouds, all while a bright morpho butterfly lands at the tip of your index finger, its beautiful iridescent blue wings flapping against each other. A loud crunch scares the butterfly, propelling away from your finger to the clear air. Your eyes linger to the magnificent creature with its figure appearing smaller the farther it goes.

The calmness was interrupted by the sound of a certain voice, one you didn’t expect to hear so soon.

“Why is it that whenever I want to have a moment for myself I run into you?”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to the direction of the sound, his hands were placed in his pockets as he leaned against the side of the tree. The question caught you off guard, and to be honest you weren’t exactly sure how to respond to him. Instead of thinking of an answer, you grab your notebook and place it back inside your satchel. He notices this and stares, seeing that you were getting up from your sitting position and adjusting your robe, walking away from him.

“Running off now?”

Looking back, his hands still in his pockets with his steely eyes observing you. You slowly bring your hands to the ends of your hair, playing with them nervously. “I don’t mean to. I just don’t want to be in your way anymore. Sorry.” Right when you tried to walk away again he continues,

“Let’s just sit down for a bit.”

Your mind was shouting at you to ignore him and leave, but the beating of your heart was louder than that. Your legs made the decision as you slowly walked back to the tree you just left a few moments ago, now accompanied by the boy who continues to make you so jittery.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, bringing the same ambience as that night in the Astronomy Tower. The large ball of orange hue lighting up the entire canvas above, resembling your favorite clementine sitting perfectly on an azure plate. There is just something so fascinating about watching the sun, and even its many rays have done justice to illuminating the person next to you, bronzing a bit of his naturally pale skin.

You hesitated to try and ask him, but you figured if you wanted answers then it was best to do it now. “Why did you leave?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your fingers make their way to the flap of your satchel, carelessly fiddling the leather material. “That night at the Astronomy Tower. You just left without saying anything.”

The silence after the question drags on for a bit as Draco tries to think of a response. Truth to be told, he has no idea why exactly he felt the need to just leave. What he did encounter that night was a slight warmth deep inside his chest. It was very faint, yet it was there and noticeable. The light warmth lingered on until he left. He did not understand it. The hollowness that had followed him for the majority of his existence had slightly disappeared when the warmth crept in. Today the familiar warmth returns, lingering. The rays of light glistening on him were not helping either.

“I just had to leave.”

“Then why did you avoid me whenever I tried to reach out to you?”

Draco sighs, clearly getting frustrated by the question. “Because we aren’t exactly friends and it shouldn’t matter to you.”

You didn’t want him to know that his response stung your heart, because in a way he is right. The two of you weren’t friends and that night at the Astronomy Tower was purely a coincidence. A coincidence you wished would be the start of something more.

But then again, why did he bother to stay with you just now?

“Why can’t we be friends?”

Draco looks at you, his eyebrows rising up as if the answer wasn’t already obvious. “We are from completely different worlds. Just because you try to be nice doesn’t give you an obligation to be friends with whoever you please. I consider you an acquaintance, that’s all.”

HIs response dumbfounded you. The words echoing back in your brain. He doesn’t believe that you were worthy enough to be his friend, which in it of itself was another stab wound to your heart. Gripping the shoulder strap of your satchel, you look into his frosty orbs. The golden rays make his eyes appear more glassy, his pupils rather tiny as the light gains entrance to his eyes.

“Have a good day, Draco. You can keep the quill. I don’t need it anymore.”

The sounds of your soft footsteps faded, leaving behind an ambivalent Draco.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The unknown is something that always piques the interest of humans, wanting to discover and find the answers of the uncertainty that lies within. The mystery of the unknown had its own set of missions, and this time it had decided to target Draco Malfoy. The darkness would slowly creep up behind his back, its dark claws pressing against his shoulder blade while the small hairs on his back stood up making his heart pace abnormally fast. He had only started to notice the unusual feeling recently. It had been bothering him for a while, not knowing whether it was something that he had to fear. But he knows that he should not fear the unknown, as fear will only show him cowardice.

Trying to clear his thoughts, he figured a trip to the lake would help heal his mind for a bit. He sees a figure calmly sitting against the trunk of the tree. His feet tramped against the ground, stepping on the branches and twigs hidden from the tall grass. With a closer look, he sees that it was you.

And that same warmth returns.

The mountains of iced walls built in the exterior of his chest had started to melt off. The smallest bit of flame gaining entry into a passageway inside his heart, lighting up the darkness of the frozen land within. This warmth in his heart lingers for a bit as he gazes over your soft features. This lingering feeling was so foreign. His heart yearned for more of it, and it beat louder and faster, signaling the small flame to continue lighting up the freezing darkness. Only then would the heart finally understand this strange phenomenon.

Unexpectedly, the small flame in his heart is quickly smothered by a snowstorm. The few parts of the ice walls that were melted off in his chest have regained their structure, now guarded with sharp icicles. The small flame surrenders, knowing that at its size it will not stand a chance in combat.

The coldness he is familiar with comes back, the feeling bringing him comfort.

He is aware of his callousness amongst others. So when you started questioning him about absolute nonsense, he wasn’t afraid to treat you just like anybody else. You weren’t anyone significant, at least that’s that he thought. When Draco told you that you were just an acquaintance, he didn’t think much of it. It was the truth after all. A Malfoy shouldn’t be friends with you. The two of you are polar opposites; different houses, personalities, and most importantly, status.

He watched you become visibly upset, the softness of your voice from earlier dissipated. The tone in your response was stern, your fingers clenched the strap of your satchel as your eyebrows furrowed before turning and walking away. A strange sensation swelled in his chest. It was a feeling that he didn’t recognize; it wasn’t annoyance or hatred. But it was something that bothered him solely because he has never experienced it before. He believed that this feeling was enough to asphyxiate him, and for some odd reason his curiosity wanted more of this strange sensation; to understand it.

Now that he was completely alone beside the tree, the unknown darkness greets him as it creeps up again behind his back. One thing Draco realized now is that this unknown feeling would disappear momentarily whenever the small flame lingers in. And if he wanted this to go away and understand the foreign sensations he had experienced today, then he would have to reach the source of the flame.

Maybe this time the darkness will hide for good once the light shines through.

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ash5monster01 · 1 year ago

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Truths of Our Past Part 1

Pairing: Older!Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: mentions of suicide, depression, depressing thoughts, past trauma, facing trauma, romance, understanding, fluff.

Summary: You had met Charlie in University, were married shortly after, and had become accustomed to a beautiful life together. When you receive a wedding invitation to one of Charlie’s previous classmates weddings you discover that Charlie had a dark past, one he had been trying to forget. In the midst of it all you try to help him through it while finding out that he’s not the guy you thought you married at all. Maybe he’s even better.

word count: 2.6k

Intro ←→ Part 2

Masterlist

10/3/69

Day 1/8

You loved the drive to Vermont. You and Charlie did it at least two times a year and it had never gotten any less beautiful. There was something magical about the scenery turning from giant skyscrapers to deep forests. You always told Charlie it was so romantic, poetic, and all he could ever do is smile at you when you said it. You knew he was uneasy, like always, but a small part of him was still comforted by it. The sad thing about reminiscing was it always held the good with the bad. So every time you made a trip out here you made sure it held more good because even if it didn’t erase the pain maybe it could somehow make it less.

"Recite me something darling" you asked sweetly, sliding across the front seat of the car to be pressed against his warm side. Charlie smiled as his hand curled in your own, resting on the plaid of your skirt.

"What do you want to hear?" he asked as you flew down the country roads, orange leaves spiralling up behind you. You loved the countryside. Especially in the Fall, it was so much more magical.

"Something about the season, how everything is so pretty this time of year" you told him, head coming to rest on his shoulder. You felt his lips brush softly against your forehead.

"O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.”

You hummed in contentment as he recited this to you, the golden sun kissing the tops of the trees as you reached the town of your destination. The beauty of it painted exactly like the poem.

"Robert Frost, how lovely" you told your husband and a small laugh fell from him as he took the familar route to Knox and Chris' large white house on the edge of town, miles of field behind them.

"I love that you know old dead poets" he told you, shifting the car into park, and you leaned your head up to smile at him.

"I love that I married a dead poet" you told him earnestly and his lips met yours in a soft kiss. You only pulled away when you heard the screen door on the porch slam shut. That could only mean one thing. Charlie was out of the car in an instant, helping you out beside him as the six year olds feet thumped fastly against the hard ground.

"Johnny!" your husband bellowed as he squatted down to meet the height of the small brunette boy.

"Uncle Charlie" the boy was squealing right back before launching into his embrace. You laughed as he lifted the boy to his feet, spinning him around and tossing him into the air.

"Careful Charles!" Chris was already calling from the front porch and you snickered lightly at the fact he was already in trouble. It had only been a minute.

"Sorry little man but your Mom would not hesitate to suffocate me in my sleep if you get hurt" Charlie said as he placed the boy down to the ground but the six year old didn’t care before he was already barreling over to you and wrapping his small arms around your legs.

"Hey kiddo" you said, hand ruffling through his hair and he smiled up at you.

"Aunt Y/N! Do you want to see my new toys?" he asked sweetly and your heart instantly melted.

"Of course I do" and then you were holding hands with the six year old and walking forward towards your husband. Johnny reached for Charlies hand as well and you were both swinging the small boy between you as you moved the rest of the way to the porch.

"I hope the drive went okay" Chris said once you were up the short three steps and you smiled, letting go of Johnny to give her a hug.

"Beautiful as always, Charlie recited a poem for me" you grinned and Chris chuckled as she looked to the boy, his hair shorter than the last time she saw him.

"Our boys, such charmers" she grinned and Charlie was leaning over, pressing a sweet kiss to Chris' cheek.

"You tease but I recall a poem or two that Knox wrote you and won you over" Charlie said and she just laughed at the fond memories as Johnny curled his hand back in your own, tugging you towards the house.

"Knox is inside finishing up some work, save him Charlie I beg" Chris said, putting her hands together to convey her seriousness and Charlie chuckled as he let himself into the home and made his way to the study. You and Chris followed Johnny to the living room where he did indeed show you all of his new toys.

"Hey Mr. Lawyer man, work is over" Charlie’s hands clapped down on the shoulders of the boy who sat hunched over his desk, pencil danglng from his lip.

"Charlie, you made it" Knox was turning with a wide smile, meeting Charlie in a hug. No longer concerned about the extra work he needed to get done in his week off for the wedding.

“Yeah well, Todd is getting married and I had to come check for myself that it was actually happening” Charlie said and Knox laughed, reaching to tug his tie loose.

“Yeah, it’s shocking honestly but we’re happy for him” Knox responded, shuffling over to the bar cart and pouring out two scotches for them.

“I hope me and Y/N aren’t intruding. Todd did offer a room if we needed” Charlie said as Knox handed him the crystal glass half full of amber liquid.

“Nonsense, we all want you here. Chris and Johnny would’ve had me hung if I didn’t offer it to you first” Knox said before taking a sip from the glass.

“Either way it’s good to see you, good to be back in Vermont” Charlie said but Knox didn’t miss the way his eyes nervously darted around the study, a shaky hand reaching the crystal to his lips.

“Since when did you start telling me half truths?” Knox asked and Charlie sighed, dragging a hand down his face, gold wedding band glinting from the desk lamp.

“Sorry, it’s just. It’s Vermont, I wasn’t given much choice in leaving and I didn’t have much control of what happened either” Charlie said and Knox gave him a tight lipped smile, hand falling on his shoulder.

“I know, you get used to it though. Take the week and you might find it’s not as hard anymore” Knox said, him and Todd being the only ones to stay in the neighborhood but that was mainly because of family. Charlie stayed in the city after attending Columbia and Meeks and Pitts had an apartment together somewhere in Boston.

“I heard Chris wants Johnathon to be a Welton blazer boy” Charlie said, directing the conversation in a different route.

“She suggested it. I’ve been considering. It’s tough because I know Welton is the better school for him and he’s crazy smart for a kid, but when I start thinking about all these successful things I want for him I worry I’m turning into my own parents. Forcing a kid to conform who just wants to enjoy life the way it is” Knox explained and Charlie nodded knowing exactly what he had meant. Getting older made you realize you didn’t give your parents the benefit of the doubt at the time. Maybe they really truly wanted what was best for you and not just them.

“Listen, as the guy who did not survive Welton maybe give it a shot. I heard that old bag Nolan isn’t in charge anymore and maybe you can attend classes, see the curriculum, determine if they’ve changed the last ten years” Charlie offered a suggestion and Knox’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m surprised Charles, you hated Hellton more than the rest of us” Knox exclaimed and Charlie just shrugged, sipping more of the scotch that made his insides buzz.

“If anyone can be different Knox it would be you. You wouldn’t force him to do anything, if he said he didn’t want to go to Welton anymore you’d let him leave in an instant. You’d actually have him come home on weekends and for holidays. It wouldn’t be like how it was for us” Charlie said reminiscing one too many lonely winters where his parents had yet again sent a gift instead of bringing him home for Christmas.

“I know, which is why I think we might enroll him next Fall” Knox said and Charlie gave him a smile.

“At least you can trust he’ll make good friends” Charlie told him and Knox realized he had agreed with his decision. It was possible Welton wasn’t a soul crushing machine anymore.

“Lifelong friends at that” Knox told him before clinking his glass with his own.

“Boys, dinner!” Chris called for them and Knox gave Charlie a grin before finishing his drink and heading for the door.

“Let’s go Nuwanda, Chris made meatloaf” Charlie was chuckling at his friend, finishing his own scotch before following him out the door.

Vermont made Charlie feel uneasy of course but the five of you sitting at the dinner table felt like the safest place in the world. Even if it had been months it felt like the most natural thing, easy conversation, bottomless glasses of wine, and collectively keeping Johnny from spilling his milk. Charlie realized it was the first place since Welton that made him feel comforted like that. It was funny how the worst of places could be the ones you felt the most comfortable in. So after a short prayer you were all digging in, catching up as if you didn’t call each other at least three times a week.

“Y/N dear, please tell me you brought some copies of the times. I so wish to read some of your latest articles” Chris was saying as she passed the potatoes to Knox who scooped them onto Johnny’s plate. Charlie was the one to catch the milk glass when Johnny hit it with his fork.

“Of course I did, and I brought my famous blondies for Knox” you said, pointing to the man who just smiled wide.

“That’s why you’re my favorite” he told her and the group was laughing again.

“How about you Charles, how is Wall Street, you know stocks, and money?” Chris asked, everyone laughing again at her confusion over Charlie’s work.

“It is so good Chris, our company is doing very well” he informed her and Chris smiled widely, pouring some wine into your glass.

“I’m so glad you all could get off of work for this week, we have so much to prepare” Chris said, starting to dig in to her own meat loaf.

“In layman’s terms that means the girls decorate while we do all the heavy lifting” Knox explained, reaching for a napkin to wipe Johnnys chin that had gravy dripping down it. Charlie leaned over, pointing to his own mouth to which Knox just rolled his eyes.

“He’s exaggerating. Tomorrow my mother will come over and watch the kids and we’ll go over to the Anderson’s to build centerpieces. I think the boys are going over to the venue to start setting things up” Chris explained to you, hand patting your own, and Knox chuckled.

“See heavy lifting” but Chris rolling her eyes at him was enough to shut him up.

“Kids?” you questioned and Chris suddenly beamed.

“Yes! Todd’s older brother Jeff has two, Michael who is eight and Clara who is five. She’s going to be the flower girl, isn’t that so sweet” Chris grinned, eyes blown wide at the thought of so many young kids. After her own complications during Johnathons birth she had been waiting before considering more children but you all knew she wanted at least five more.

“Wow, I bet she’ll be adorable” you tried to beam back but Charlie could see the uneasy look on your face, how you both hadn’t been able to conceive yet. It wasn’t that you were necessarily trying but you were never that careful either.

“Either way I am so excited, the whole week has been planned out. I haven’t been in a wedding since yours and Ginny Danbury’s” Chris smiled, clearly excited, and feeling the love in the air.

“We’re excited as well, I mean Todd. Forget the blushing bride we’re going to be having a blushing groom!” you teased, pivoting the conversation from children as quickly as you could.

“I’ll drink the that” Charlie said to his wife, raising his wine glass, and the group just laughed.

“I’ll serve breakfast at eight and then we can ride together to the Andersons after” Chris told you and you nodded quickly, eager to agree with any terms because she was so kind to have welcomed you in her home.

“This will be a wedding for the books” Knox said before shoving a large bite of meat loaf in his mouth that made Johnny incessantly giggle at the goofiness of his father. This also cause Charlie to follow along and when Johnny went to try himself Chris stopped it, muttering about choking hazards, and you were so thankful for Charlie allowing you to be apart of this life.

“I’m glad we’re here” you told him later that night in the guest room, hanging your dresses in the closet after folding all his dress pants into the dresser.

“Me too, Johnny has grown at least five inches since we last saw him” he said, now propped up nicely in the bed wearing an old Columbia sweatshirt and plaid pajama bottoms. You admired his wife rimmed glasses tucked on his nose and the way his thumb kept his place in his book despite his attention being on you.

“You ever miss it, the countryside?” you asked curiously, closing the now empty suitcase, and reaching for the curlers to put in your hair.

“Sometimes, I forget how quiet it is. I like the quiet” Charlie said and you were smiling, sitting beside your husband. A man of many trades and attributes. Gentle but overconfident. Teenage him must’ve been relentless.

“You do not like the quiet, I think you like that this is still home” you told him, hand resting on his knee from your spot on the edge of the bed.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong dear, because wherever you are is my home” he told you, permanent flirtatious smirk on his face, and you hoped one day he could share everything about this place. The good and the bad, because all of it shaped him into the man you loved today.

“Sweet talker” you teased, leaning forward to kiss him but before you could pull back he was tucking you softly against his chest.

“Only for you Mrs. Dalton” he told you and you couldn’t help the butterflies that flapped in your stomach, there permanently for the last six years.

“Keep it that way Mr. Dalton”

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fandom-junk-drawer · 1 year ago

Text

The Witcher Headcanon - Invisible Danger

Traveling the Path can get boring sometimes. There's only so many times you can admire the scenery before it starts to get old, or so many times you can mentally go over your plans, and you eventually run out of things to talk about with your horse.

Playing I Spy gets old when your horse keeps getting it right on the first guess, and Never Have I Ever is no fun because your horse and your bard already know everything about you.

Two Truths and A Lie is challenging, for Geralt at least, because Jaskier is 1) surprisingly of noble blood, incredibly well educated, and is part of a mysterious world Geralt doesn't understand, and 2) is incredibly adventurous when it comes to sexy time, and has done so much kinky sh*t, and been involved in so much resulting drama, it's almost impossible to pick out the lie.

Banging your wife isn't very much fun when your bard keeps b*tching and threatening to join you if you don't stop being so f***ing loud about it while he's trying to sleep. The little impromptu songs he makes up on the spot are annoying and completely ruin the mood.

Pranks are all fun and games until someone (Jaskier) takes things a little too far and then Geralt has to either keep himself or Yennefer from killing him.

There's only so many times you can sing "Oh, Valley of PEEnis!" before Geralt's eye starts twitching.

All the various little games and amusements that you make up can only be played so many times before someone gets huffy and doesn't want to play anymore, and then it gets really boring because someone says something to someone else and then no one is speaking to anyone.

It was turning out to be one of Those Trips, where all the usual forms of amusement had gotten really old, really fast, and Geralt was starting to wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be a monster that would end his existence, but plain boredom.

But then Yennefer came to the rescue.

They were taking a break under the trees, snacking on bread and cheese, and dried meat. It had been quiet for the last few miles or so, Jaskier too busy working out a tune on his lute to engage in conversation.

Geralt had seen Yennefer glance quickly at Jaskier, then look down at her dried meat. Jaskier was leaning against the trunk of a tree, eating his lunch while trying to scribble down the rough idea for his next song.

A brief smile had skated across Yennefer's face and Geralt knew something was up. Yennefer had suddenly let out a surprised gasp and jumped up, then yelped and ducked. Jaskier had immediately dropped his things and started looking around wildly for what had startled Yennefer.

Geralt had watched, confused, then amused, as Yennefer started running back and forth, randomly curisng, while Jaskier just followed her around, hunched over and clinging to the back of her dress, looking around wildly.

Yennefer had yelled random expetives, and ignored all of Jaskier's panicked questions.

Yennefer: *screaming, flailing, running*

Jaskier *panicking*: *shriek* What! What is-?!

Yennefer: *shrieks and dodges*

Jaskier: *shrieks, hunched down, stumbling after her*

Yennefer: Oh gods, what is that!

Jaskier: What! What!

Both: *screaming and ducking while running around the campsite*

It continued on for a few moments more before whatever it was that had spooked Yennefer had gone. When questioned about what it had been, Yennefer had vaguely answered that it must have been a bird or a bat. Or something.

Jaskier had been amusingly jumpy for the next few hours, and Geralt and Yennefer had giggled quietly to themselves. Thus the game of Spook the Bard was born.

Whenever things started to get dull, Yennefer or Geralt would play their private little game. Geralt found that it was more difficult to play when it was just himself and Jaskier. He had to make his reaction to the invisible danger seem real.

Geralt found that growling, "F**k!" and standing up, or getting off Roach with his sword drawn was enough to spook Jaskier. From there it was all a matter of keeping him panicking by bombarding him with frantic instructions.

The bard had immedately started flapping around, cluthcing his lute and looking for a place to hide when Geralt had, out of the blue, swerved Roach towards the trees.

Geralt: Get to the trees!

Jaskier: *panicked bard noises*

Geralt: Go! Go! Go! Watch out for that rock! No, not that way! Wait, stop! No, keep going! Hurry, it's circling around in front of us! Hide behind that bush! No, climb up that tree instead! No, not that one! F**k it's getting closer! On second thought, get up in that tree! No! Yeah! F**k, get in that thicket! No, wait! It might be hiding in there!

Jaskier: *gibbering, wild-eyed, falling over his own feet*

Geralt: *holding the back of Jaskier's jacket and violently dragging him around*

Jaskier: *just gives up and passes out*

Geralt had laughed until his stomach ached, managing to get himself under control before Jaskier started to come around. After that, Geralt enjoyed a few hours of amusement as Jaskier jumped at every sound and shadow, even shrieking when a squirrel had darted across the road.

The game wasn't limited to when they were traveling. Yennefer and Geralt would play even when they were staying Yennefer's house, an inn, or at Kaer Morhen.

Geralt and Yennefer decided to play Spook the Bard one winter. They had been down in the Great Hall, and things had gotten a little dull.

No one wanted to play The Floor Is Lava, Lambert was p*ssed because he lost The Game, no one wanted to play Spoons after Jaskier started fake crying when Coen tried to take his spoon, and Bard Keep Away ended up on the Banned Games List after Geralt took it a little too personal and started a fight with Lambert.

Geralt saw Jaskier sitting next to Yennefer by the fire, eating out of pure boredom, just minding his own d*mn business. He saw Yennefer casually set her tankard of ale down. Geralt said not a word, just braced himself.

Yennefer shifted with a squeak and jumped to her feet, wildly brushing at her clothes.

Jaskier threw his plate as he started flailing around and gibbering, trying to get up and get away from whatever it was that was on Yen.

Yennefer was chaotically scurrying back and forth and swatting the air as if trying to keep something from landing on her. Jaskier was looking around wildly and trying to avoid it as well. He grabbed the back of Yennefer's cloak and tried to stay close to her.

Jaskier: What! What the h*ll is it!"

Yennefer: *panicked scream and vague pointing*

Jaskier: *screeching* "What is it, Yen!"

Yennefer: "Oh my gods, there it is!"

Jaskier: *terrified shriek*

They were both screaming and jumping, ducking and zig zagging around.

Yennefer jumped up on the nearest table, and Jaskier was clambering up right behind her. Seconds later, he was yeeting himself off the table, following Yennefer as she scrambled down in a rush of panicked screaming.

Geralt decided to get in on it, and ran over and started randomly stomping on the ground around them and grabbing Yennefer and Jaskier and swinging them in random directions.

The other Wolves had no clue what was going on and added to the chaos by rushing over to try to see what it was that was attacking Yennefer and Jaskier. Geralt kept them whipped up by yelling random location words at them.

It ended when Yennefer, trying to give the game a grand finale, shouted and pointed at Jaskier, "It's in your hair!"

She hadn't counted on Eskel, poor cinnamon roll Eskel, reacting by reflexively b*tch slapping the back of Jaskier's head.

Everything stopped as the sound of the slap echoed through the hall, and Jaskier slowly folded up on the floor. Oh, f**k, he'd accidentally factory reset the bard.

Geralt pretended to pick something up and toss it out the window while Jaskier rebooted.

He told his brothers that it had just been a really big cockroach. Sorry for all the screaming. It looked bigger than it was, especially with the way it had been scurrying around. You know how it is.

Yennefer had agreed. Yeah, sorry, it looked super gigantic crawling up on my dress, and especially when it started flying around.

Jaskier, mildly concussed and woozy, had thanked Eskel for getting the bug off him, and let Yennefer and Geralt lead him to his room for a lie down.

Yennefer and Geralt decided to lay off playing Spook the Bard for awhile.

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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year ago

Text

Gaslight, Chapter 25/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Just outside Washington, D.C.

It’s quiet other than the hush of the waves. No shrieking gulls, no laughing children, no tinny boom boxes polluting the scenery with pop music. The beach at night has always felt special to her, like walking through an empty movie set.

She’s not alone. He’s right beside her on the sand, his long legs stretched out and his bare toes glowing under the moonlight. His suit jacket is draped over her legs, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her warm. Her little black cocktail dress was fitting for a movie premier, but the tailored jacket she paired it with provides little protection against the gusting winds pushing in from the ocean. Every time she shivers he tugs her a little bit closer, so she shivers again on purpose just for an excuse to lean heavily into the warm, solid mass of his torso.

He sighs. A heavy, dramatic sigh that could mean a lot of things, but she’s hoping it’s contentment. Because that’s how she feels, being here with him like this. Thousands of miles from everything that keeps them apart, from all the reasons it will never work.

“Hm?” she asks him with a nudge.

She sees him shake his head in her periphery, and she tilts her face up to look at him. His eyes are on the ocean, on the black, endless horizon. When he turns his face toward hers, the tip of his nose brushes the tip of hers and he smiles, then does it again. It’s so close, so intimate, that it makes her heart ache and her eyes water.

“I wish….” he starts, but stops himself. He doesn’t need to say it; she knows.

“I do too,” she says softly.

“Do you think…are LA rules the same as Vegas rules?” he asks, his tone a touch lighter.

“As in what happens here…”

“Stays here,” he finishes.

“Sure. Maybe. I guess that can be true of anywhere, if you decide that it is,” she posits, her belly twisting into knots.

“Vegas rules?” he asks, the most loaded proposition in so few words.

She nods, and he kisses her, and she no longer cares about the cold.

She allows herself to cry in the shower. Under the needle-sharp spray of the water, turned up as hot as it will go, she cries for the lives she’s lost, both those that belonged to her and those that she was forced into. She cries because she has no one to call, because she wonders if Cal got any sleep and if he’s managing the kids okay. She cries because she doesn’t know what to do next, or how to reach Mulder, or whether he is the same person she remembers him to be. When she’s done crying, when she feels wrung out and devoid of any emotion at all, she dresses and packs her things, checks out of the motel, and climbs back into Tiffany’s car.

She heads toward the Capitol campus, passing by landmarks that are familiar to any American, even those who have never visited. The early summer weather is still comfortably warm, and throngs of tourists clog every sidewalk around the White House, Lincoln Memorial, and Reflecting Pool. On Pennsylvania Avenue, she pulls onto a side street and watches the entrance to the Hoover building as suited federal employees filter in and out. Going inside feels far too risky, and likely with very little to gain, but the longer she watches the door, the tighter the pit in her chest becomes.

“That’s pretty good, Scully.”

“Better than you expected, or better than you hoped?”

“Well…I’ll let you know once we get past the easy part.”

She rubs the side of her head above her ear in an effort to relieve the dull throb that seems to have taken up residence there. When she starts to become nervous that someone might notice how long she’s been watching the building, she pulls away.

She drives aimlessly up and down streets both residential and industrial, occasionally feeling a flash of recognition when she sees the name of a business or a landmark. She feels such a flash outside a sandwich shop called Tito’s, and has the realization that she hasn’t eaten anything since sometime the day before. She parks in the lot of the strip mall and enters the shop, and a small bell above the door signals her arrival to a young man who emerges from behind a curtain.

“Welcome to Tito’s, what can I get for you?” he asks blandly, and she quickly peruses the menu before making a selection and paying with cash.

As the young man assembles her sandwich, she looks around the rest of the small shop. It’s somewhat of a hole in the wall, though very clean and well kept, and every sign is branded with Pepsi advertisements. There are a few other customers sitting around the dozen or so tables making conversation over their meals, including a young couple that are seated on the same side of the table whispering in one another’s ears.

“Fuck!” someone yells, and Dana whips her head around to see a man standing beside a table covered with soda, his lap bearing a large wet spot.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry,” his companion is saying as they dash over to the condiment area and grab a pile of napkins.

“Turkey and swiss for Dana,” the young man who took her order calls out, and she takes the paper sack from his outstretched hand.

Her head throbs and she rushes back out to the car, memories flooding her mind like a cresting river.

“You gonna eat that?”

“Yes, I am. In about three hours, most likely.”

He gives her a little impish grin and leans forward, placing his index and middle fingers on the table top and walking them slowly towards the remains of her lunch.

“Mulder, no,” she says in a playfully stern voice.

“Come on, you know you’re going to leave it in the fridge until the janitor tosses it,” he argues, now inches from her food.

She slaps his hand and he startles, knocking her water over as he snatches his arm back. It runs over the edge of the table and she gasps as the icy beverage soaks the entirety of her lap.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Mulder says urgently, moving to sit beside her and blotting at the tops of her thighs with two useless napkins. “Sorry, Scully,” he adds with a cringe.

“It’s okay; it was an accident,” she says with a resigned sigh. “Seems par for the day.”

He regards her with a somewhat wounded look.

“You’re having a bad day?” he asks, seeming surprised by the idea.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, her favorite platitude. “Just somewhat of a series of unfortunate events. My heat went out last night and the super said it might be a few days before he gets it working, and then my electric blanket decided now is the ideal time to break, and—it’s fine.”

“Your heat isn’t working? It’s thirty-five degrees outside, Scully,” he says with offense.

“It’s fine, Mulder—”

“It’s not fine. Come stay with me until your super gets it fixed,” he says, and she balks.

“No, I don’t want to put you out, Mulder. I have a space heater, it’s really fine,” she insists.

“Scully,” he says sternly, not at all playful, and she turns to look at him. “Please come stay with me. I want you to,” he says with great sincerity, and she feels a pang of affection and gratitude.

“Okay,” she agrees, and his mouth breaks out into a wide grin. “Thank you.”

She eats her sandwich behind the steering wheel in the car, wishing more than anything that Mulder were there to take the other half. She wraps it up and stuffs it in the glove box, then resumes her aimless driving. Her head is killing her and she decides to find a place where she can buy some Tylenol. She’s passing through a residential area en route to a major thoroughfare when a small white house catches her eye.

It’s nondescript for the most part. There are bars on the windows and a small sign advertising a security system posted in the front yard. The grass is cut and the flowerbeds are neat, though empty. It’s the kind of home that offers absolutely no information about its occupants, aside from their concern over intruders, and yet it feels familiar to her in a way that makes her head throb.

She parks on the curb and cautiously makes her way down the front walk and onto the small covered porch. There’s a “no soliciting” sign hung neatly beside the doorbell, and no welcome mat. She says a quick prayer and then reaches out and presses the button. A minute passes, and she’s considering whether to ring again when a staticky voice erupts from a speaker mounted above the door.

“How may we help you, miss?” asks the soft voice, and she looks around until she locates a camera in the eaves of the entryway.

“My name is Dana R—Scully,” she says, looking directly into the lens. “I think that I might know you, and…I need help. Please.”

She’s trying to strike the right balance between making clear that she’s in distress, but not coming across as though she’ll cause any trouble.

“Who sent you here?” the voice asks, and a smaller voice that sounds further away interjects with, “Let her in, she’s hot!”

“No one sent me,” she says, trying not to beg. “I…it’s hard to explain, but I think we used to know each other. We just can’t remember it.”

She winces at her own poor communication skills, and a loud thwack sounds from the door, followed by a series of smaller clicks and pops. She steps back and eventually the door opens a few inches, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and generous sideburns. He gives her a quick once-over from head to foot, and then another face appears above his. This man is quite a bit taller than the first, with stringy blond hair and square-rimmed glasses.

“You’re not with the government are you?” the blond man asks, and she shakes her head, though she’s not sure if that’s an entirely accurate response. “You wearing a wire?” he adds, and the look of genuine confusion on her face must be all the answer he needs, because the door swings open wider and the two men move aside to allow her entry.

The interior of the home is dimly lit and cluttered with computer equipment, though it smells clean. A third man joins them in the entryway, his suit and neatly trimmed goatee in stark contrast to his comparatively bedraggled friends.

“You believe we know one another?” he asks, and she recognizes the soft tenor of his voice from the speaker outside.

“I believe we did, yes,” she says carefully, her eyes roving around the great room and taking in news clippings and articles pinned to every wall, and electronics on nearly every surface that she couldn’t even begin to identify.

“Would you like to come in and tell us what you need help with?” the kind man asks, gesturing to a seating area with an outstretched arm.

Dana nods and crosses the room, perching nervously on the edge of an armchair. Whatever this place is, and whoever these people are, she can only hope that she is safe and among friends. The three men sit shoulder to shoulder on a couch perpendicular to her chair, the kind man in the middle and Sideburns closest to her.

“I think I’d remember meeting you,” Sideburns says with just an edge of innuendo—enough to let her know that it’s meant to be taken as commentary on her appearance, but not enough to make her feel unsafe.

“What is this place?” she asks, still taking in the overwhelming amount of tech and gadgets in the room. When none of the men respond, she looks back to the couch and sees them exchanging significant looks.

“Miss,” the kind man says with a placating smile, “I hope that we can help you, but we’d feel much more comfortable if you could tell us who you are before we disclose any of our personal information.”

She almost laughs at the irony of it, like being asked to provide ID in order to obtain ID.

“My name is Dana Scully,” she begins, her eyes trained on her hands, which are fidgeting in her lap. “And while I realize this sounds completely implausible and maybe a bit crazy, I believe that I’ve had my memory erased.” She pauses, giving them an opportunity to ask questions. She steals a glance at the men and they’re all watching her expectantly, surprised but not disbelieving. “I believe that we knew each other prior to this happening to me, and I desperately need some help…”

To her frustration and embarrassment, her throat tightens and her eyes sting. Tears will not lend to her credibility. Tears will not improve her situation. She pulls in a slow breath through her nose and lets it out of her mouth raggedly, and the three men exchange looks.

“Not to sound doubtful,” Sideburns says gently, “but if that were true, wouldn’t we recognize you?”

They’re not going to believe her, she can already tell. A fresh swell of hopelessness makes her shoulders sag with defeat.

“Again,” she says hoarsely, “I know this sounds implausible, but I believe that you’ve also had your memory erased,” she tries.

Eyebrows lift. More significant looks. But they aren’t laughing at her. They aren’t showing her the door.

“Even if it were possible, why would someone want to erase your memory, or ours?” the blond man asks.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she tells him. “I know that it had to do with my job, and a man I worked with. I believe we witnessed something, or obtained information that we weren’t supposed to have. Something important enough to whoever these people are that they were willing to go to great lengths to ensure that we didn’t remember it.”

“How do you know all this?” says the kind man.

She takes a deep breath before she begins.

“Two months ago, I woke up in the hospital after sustaining a head injury. I was diagnosed with retrograde amnesia that seemed to have wiped out my entire memory after some point in 1992. I learned that I had a husband and children, a home, a job, none of which I remembered. I tried to reacclimate to my life the best I could, but as time wore on I felt as though something wasn’t right. I kept having these dreams, these memories…I was eventually contacted by a man who gave me information about what was done to me, and why. I learned that my husband and children are strangers, decoys meant to distract me from the truth. And when the people who did this realized that I was remembering, they came for me.”

The uncomfortable silence makes her heart race, and she can’t bring herself to look at their faces. She stares at the coffee table, on which is a stack of newsletters titled The Lone Gunmen.

“That’s quite a story,” Sideburns says with melancholy in his voice.

“I know it sounds crazy,” she says quietly.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, miss,” says the kind one, “but it would be helpful if you had some kind of evidence or proof. And I also can’t help but wonder what kind of assistance we could possibly offer you.”

Proof. She has the Numerol in her bag, but unless they have access to a lab and the scientific acumen to understand how anomalous the chemical composition of the pills are, that won’t help. The metal chip that Tiffany removed from her neck is back in Ellicott City. She feels a sudden burst of adrenaline as a realization pops into her head.

“Were you vaccinated against the Manatua Virus?” she asks the three of them.

“Yes, of course,” says the kind one.

“Then I believe that the proof is in you, at the base of your neck,” she says confidently. “A small metal chip was inserted subcutaneously at the time of your vaccination, and it somehow impedes your memory recall.”

“A chip?” repeats the blond one. “Like a computer chip?”

“I think so. I don’t know what its composition is or how it works, but I know that if it’s removed, you’re able to recall previously inaccessible memories. That’s what’s happening to me, and that’s what happened to my husband.”

“Why would we be involved in this?” the kind one asks uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “Perhaps solely because you knew me, and the man I worked with. There may be more to it than that, but I don’t have that information yet.”

“How do we know any of this is true?” Sideburns asks, doubt creeping into his voice for the first time.

“If you’ll allow me to remove your chip, you may remember it for yourself,” she suggests.

The three men sit back in their seats, looking at one another and then at her. She can only hope that their curiosity wins out over their skepticism.

It’s when she has Sideburns’ neck sliced open and is prodding around his soft tissue with a pair of tweezers that it comes to her. This time it’s not a violent jolt, not a proverbial anvil crashing into her working memory. It just slips out, like a song lyric you didn’t realize you still knew.

“Hold still, Frohike,” she murmurs, and the formerly squirming man freezes in his seat.

“How did you know his name?” the kind man asks, and now she freezes too.

When she looks up from the red gash in Frohike’s neck, she sees the world with new eyes. She sees Byers watching her intently, and Langly gaping at her. She sees Frohike’s apron hanging from a hook in the kitchen, and a half full bottle of tequila that she remembers helping the men drink on a particularly rowdy poker night. For the first time in months, she feels oriented in space and time. It’s like she’s been driving around, lost, and suddenly spots a familiar landmark. Oh, I know where I am now.

“You’re friends of Mulder’s,” she says, somewhat vacantly, her hands still poised over Frohike’s neck. “You all met at a convention in 1989, and he introduced me to you shortly after he and I started working together.”

“The computer and electronics convention?” Langly asks uncomfortably.

“Yes, I think so.”

“We met at that convention,” Frohike confirms, “but I don’t remember anyone named Mulder.”

Dana turns back to the surgical site and continues her exploration of Frohike’s neck.

“You will. Soon,” she says confidently. Within minutes, Frohike is freed of his chip.

Langly goes next, and then Byers. After taking some time to work through their shock at discovering they’ve been unwittingly carrying tracking devices around in their bodies for who knows how long, Frohike puts the chips under a microscope and they take turns examining the cross-hatch of metallic ridges that bear no identifying information. Next, he pours them each two fingers of scotch as Dana retells as much as she can recall from what Alex shared: the Spurious Project, the virus, the Numerol.

“I don’t take any medication at all,” Langly says, shaking his head.

“I’m not sure what the role of the medication is yet. Perhaps it wasn’t needed at your level of involvement,” Dana posits, the warmth in her belly soothing her frayed nerves.

“Dana, you’re talking about a nationally orchestrated mass effort to alter the memories of the American people, every man, woman and child,” Byers says gravely.

“I know it sounds implausible—”

“It doesn’t sound implausible at all,” he interrupts. “And the presence of those chips in our necks right where you said they’d be is evidence of that. I know that our government is capable of something like this, but what I find perplexing is that they’d go to such great effort just to eliminate the risk of two individuals sharing state secrets.”

“Seems like it would have been easier to just kill you,” Langly comments, and Byers shoots him a look.

“I know. Someone wanted us alive, but I don’t yet know who, or why,” Dana says. “But thank you for believing me.”

“Of course we believe you,” Frohike says, as though it should be obvious. “But now the question is: what next?”

Dana heaves a sigh.

“I need to find Mulder and somehow bring him along. I’m not sure if he’s remembering as well, but he certainly didn’t appear to be when I saw him.”

“I didn’t find any results for Mulder on the internet, even when I searched the dark web. What did you say he told you his name was? Spender?” Langly says as he pushes off against the floor and rolls his chair over to a computer.

“Jeff Spender, yes. And he said he lives in Philadelphia.”

A couple minutes pass in comfortable silence, the tick of the keys on Langly’s computer and the clink of ice in their glasses set over the constant hum of the machinery.

“This your guy?” he asks, rolling away so Dana can get closer to the computer screen.

Seeing his face is as much a relief as it is painful. It’s a professional headshot taken in a studio, and he’s wearing a charcoal suit and glasses, his hair combed to one side. He’s smiling, and the way it pushes his hooded eyes into little crescents makes her chest ache so acutely she brings one hand up and lays it over her heart.

“Yes,” she whispers, then moves to read the bio just beneath the photo.

Jeffrey Spender, MSW, LFMT, is a licensed therapist working with individuals and couples. A graduate of Oxford University, Mr. Spender specializes in supporting adults through major life transitions such as death, divorce, job loss, and retirement. Call for a free consultation today.

“Could you print that for me?” she asks, hoping that they’ll assume she’s after the bio and not the photo. “What about the Spurious Project, can you find anything on that?”

“That kind of information won’t be accessible on any mainstream sources,” Langly tells her, pulling back up to the computer and printing off the page. “We may be able to hack into whatever database it’s housed in, but we’ll need some time. Do you have any idea which branch of government is involved? CIA, DOJ, DOD?”

“No,” Dana says. “But we can assume there’s some level of involvement with the FBI, right? Doesn’t that seem likely?”

“Could be,” Frohike says with a nod. “We’ll do a little funky poaching and hopefully we’ll at least have a lead by tomorrow. Should we try to contact Mulder, or Spender, or whoever the heck this guy is?”

Dana looks at the sheet of paper in her hands, at Mulder’s smiling face. What she wouldn’t give to have him here, to have him remember her.

“Not yet,” she says regretfully. “I think we need more information first. More proof.”

“Where are you staying, Dana? Do you have a cell phone number where we can reach you when we have more information?” Byers asks.

“I’ll probably get a motel; that’s what I did last night. I left my cell phone at home so it couldn’t be used to track my location,” she says.

“Do you have a car?”

“Yes, sort of. A friend let me take her car when I left the hospital. She’ll come looking for it in a few days, though.”

Byers gives Frohike a pointed look.

“Give me an hour. I’ll call Ricky and get you all set up. We gotta ditch the car asap, and if you were thinking about calling home, don’t,” Frohike says sternly.

Dana glances at her watch. It’s almost 6:00. Cal would just be getting home with the kids and starting dinner.

“I haven’t, and I won’t,” she says with a heavy heart. “Set up with what, if I might ask?”

Frohike holds his hands out in front of him, palms facing her, and wiggles his fingers for effect.

“The works.”

The fake ID they gave her says her name is Melanie Newsome, a resident of Annapolis. She calls Byers from the burner cell phone Ricky provided her with to let him know when she’s made it all the way into the safehouse and locked the doors behind her.

It’s a one-bedroom apartment in a sparsely populated building. The few other residents she passed in the hall on her way up kept their eyes on the floor, and she wonders if everyone here is hiding from something. The apartment itself is modest but covers the essentials, including a couch in the living room, a mattress on the floor in the bedroom, basic toiletries, linens, and a small set of cookware and dishes in the kitchen. The most indulgent furnishing is a stereo with an eight-disc CD changer and detachable speakers, not unlike the one her mother owns. From the small balcony, she can see the pinking horizon as the sun slowly descends behind the city skyline.

She feels wrung out and emotionally exhausted, so she showers and gets into bed even though it’s still quite early. Minutes tick by, and she listens to the sounds of the city with raw nerves as she tries to relax enough to sleep. Every snick of a door opening, every padded footfall in the hallway, every voice echoing against the pavement outside, delivers a spike of cortisol that sends her heart thrumming. Finally, she abandons the bed for the couch, which somehow feels more secure. There is no TV to distract herself with, so she puts the Sam Cooke CD into the changer and gives the other songs on the album a listen, allowing his smooth voice to drown out the din of the world around her. Her mind drifts, and she nestles against the back of the couch as though it were a warm body, letting herself imagine that it’s him.

Darling you send me, honest you do.

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