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quietmyfearswith · 4 years

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their love language ; preferences

warnings — fluff (?) couple of swear words

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, jake jensen, bucky barnes, carter baizen, lance tucker, syverson, will shaw (cold light of day), august walker

a/n — just something i put together lmao asks are open for anything

with their little

masterlist

andy barber — physical touch and words of affirmation

It wasn’t unusual that Andy brought home work; but more often than not concerning. Not only was he overworking himself, but it also led him to doubt and question his own capabilities. And Y/N knew when these unwanted thoughts would start to plague Andy’s mind and she knew just how to prevent them from affecting him severely. Creeping up behind him, she placed her hands on his shoulders giving him a massage he didn’t know his body was begging for. “How you doing, handsome?” she asked sweetly as she placed a small kiss on the back of his ear. Turning his head slightly so he could reciprocate the kiss but on her hand, “Making slow but significant progress.” She hummed, moving her fingers from his shoulders and to his temples she tried to rub off the stress that seemed to have its epicenter at his forehead. “Well all that was possible because of you, angel, you and that big brain of yours.” Andy grabbed both her hands and turned to her; she knew what was gonna happen next — he was gonna argue with what she said and instead claim that he wasn’t that good and he could have done it quicker or done more. But before he even had a chance to do so, she slanted her lips on his to shut him up. “I’m gonna shut you up with a kiss every time you talk shit about yourself,” the man’s entire body vibrated with laughter as turned his chair around to face Y/N and grabbed her so she sat down on his lap, “In that case we might be kissing for a long time, love.”

august walker — acts of service

August’s dedication wasn’t only limited to his work; but also to his beloved Y/N. He’d like to think that the reason that he exposed himself to the dangers of the world is so that he could guarantee her safety. But on the instances wherein he wasn’t on a mission and instead was back home with her, he never missed out on an opportunity to make her feel safe and loved. Since he was having downtime from a mission, he took it upon himself to bring you to work and pick you up. It didn’t matter if it was out of his way or he had a busy day, it was something he loved to do. He loved having one hand on the steering wheel and the other on her warm thigh; just like how they were right now following her departure from her work. “I noticed how your laundry was piling up, so I washed it already. Also found the missing sock you were whining about last week,” Y/N looked at August and decided to tease him as she jokingly accused him, “I knew it! You hid it somewhere in our home.” His hand that was comfortably resting on her thigh left its place and went for her sides, tickling her. Hearing her giggles, made him boyishly smile, “That’s not what happened, missy. I was cleaning the house — because you were whining about how cluttered and messy it was getting and you didn’t have the time to clean it up — and somehow found that fuzzy sock of yours in the kitchen.” Upon learning what her man was up to, she was shocked and teased him more by saying, “Are you sure you should be a CIA agent and not a house cleaner? Seems like it’s one thing you absolutely love to do.” placing his hand back on her thigh, August rubbed her thigh warmly as he spoke, “Only for you love, I’ll do anything for you.”

bucky barnes — words of affirmation

For the majority of his life, he was used to hearing gruesome and morbid orders that were tasked for him to carry out. He was so used to hearing yells and harsh voices ringing in his ears; but now since he was free from their abusive hold, he didn’t have to hear the same sounds again. “Wakey wakey sleeping beauty,” was whispered into his ear, snapping him out of his sleeping state. Turning over, he looked at Y/N and smiled, “Are you sure I’m sleeping beauty and not you?” She just chuckled at his rebuttal as she laid her head on his chest and looked up at him, “I’m sure it’s you who’s the sleeping beauty I mean have you seen this face?” She took note as she ran her finger through his sculpted face, “Jawline that can cut deep, lips that are soft and delectable, eyes that are extremely expressive.” She then let her hand go down to where his heart was and delicately traced over it as she further explained, “And of course, what’s inside of you takes the cake of what makes you the sleeping beauty; a caring nature, compassionate to others, wit that is incomparable, and has so much love to give.” The super soldier could feel his heart swell double its current size with how comforting and heartfelt her compliment was. Grateful tears threatened to leave his eyes as she placed a chaste kiss on his chest and assured him, “Everything about you is beautiful, Bucky.”

jake jensen — quality time

“Are you free this Saturday?” Jake asked as he directed his focus from the computer to his girlfriend as she placed a mug of coffee on his working table. Curious and hopeful eyes were behind the lensed frame, hoping she would say that she was available. Leaning against his desk she crossed her arms and gave him a mocking look, “Depends on who’s asking and why,” but the puppy of man just grabbed at her forearms and pouted. “Please baby? I was hoping you’d be down for laser tag? Or if you don’t want to do that maybe we can watch a movie?” Y/N could not help but coo at how adorable her boyfriend looked; for a man who was part of the army he was too much of a softie. He despised having to be away from home for missions since he was always aching to spend time with you — and it didn’t really matter to him what it was you two were doing you could be museum-hopping, hiking, having a movie marathon, or just cuddling in bed. Which explains as to why he was inquiring whether or not you were available to spend time with him; leaning down to kiss his forehead, Y/N decided to put him out of his misery, “Yes love, I’m free on Saturday, we can go out for laser tag.” Standing up from where he was sitting down he excitedly wrapped his arms around the woman who was now laughing at how she mimicked the elation of a child. “Thank you, baby, can’t wait to kick your ass then.”

syverson — physical touch and quality time

Having been home from a deployment, it felt odd for Sy to not wake up when the sun was barely up or to not be squished with other men in a small space. Feeling movement in the bed where he lay, he quickly opened both his eyes and looked at the source of it. “Come back,” he groggily mumbled as he pulled Y/N closer and buried his face on her neck. “What if there’s somewhere I need to be, bear?” It was a surprise when she felt him whine, this alpha of a man whined at the thought of having to be away with his girlfriend. “I am gonna have to lock you inside the house, I just came back and there’s no way I’m gonna let you out until we’ve made up for lost time.” As she played with his short hair she pressed a kiss on the side of his forehead, “Good thing I have the week off then, huh?” his head shot up from her neck and looked at her excitedly, “No shit, baby? I get you all to myself for the whole week?” Nodding she busied her fingers again by running it through his buzz cut hair again. Feeling his thick arms wrap around her, she could feel the happiness and contentment resonate through his whole body. “I’m not letting you out of my hold, let alone my sight — I’m gonna need you all close to me and we’re gonna do everything together.”

lance tucker — physical touch

Having been involved in gymnastics at a young age, Lance’s hands were calloused and rough due to vigorous training. This then led him to be quite insecure and apprehensive when it came to physical contact with others, especially with someone he loves; for he fears they might run off once they feel the rough texture of his hands. Coming home from a long day filled with coaching he slumped down on the couch and took a deep breath. His muscles ached and it was starting to reach the point where it bothered him. “Hey bub, you just got home?” Y/N appeared from the kitchen and sat down beside the gymnast. As if on instinct, Lance laid his head on her lap and started to move his face around — as if it was a cat begging to be pet. Chuckling she did play with his hair with one hand while the other held on to his one hand. Letting out a satisfied hum he then began to vaguely recount his day, “Long day of coaching, switching up styles, correcting postures.” At the brief recount Y/N could feel how Lance tensed up and wanted to help him out hence why she offered, “How ‘bout you lie here and let me get that lavender oil you love? Then I can give the god of gymnastics a massage.” his eyes lit up and immediately lifted his head off her comfortable lap and laid down on his stomach as he tiredly mumbled, “Thank you baby, you’re massages are the best and I love your gentle touch.”

steve rogers — acts of service

Since retiring, Steve found himself comforted by having a routine. And much of his routine involves the things he does for Y/N — the love of his life. After finishing his morning run around the neighborhood, he immediately prepares coffee and sets out to cook breakfast. Upon padding down the stairs of their shared home, Y/N smiles at the sight of Steve placing the bacon, egg, and toast on two plates. “Good morning, honey,” she greeted him with a kiss on his lips. “Breakfast for my love,” he said as he placed a plate in front of her and slid to the seat opposite from where she was. “You have a busy day ahead of you, right?” She hummed in response to his question as she took a sip of the coffee he made, “Well I went to the gas station and made sure you had a full tank; I also prepared you your favorite lunch,” he pointed to the small lunch bag he bought her a few months back upon learning she would sometimes not have enough time to buy lunch if she had a busy day from work; so he took it upon himself to prepare lunch for her everyday. Placing her mug down, she held one of his hands in her own and looked at him fondly, “You spoil me too much; I think I’m getting too dependent on you.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a few gentle kisses in the back of her palm and spoke sincerely, “I wouldn’t mind that at all, doll.”

carter baizen — receiving gifts

Luxurious and designer brands were something that Carter always had. It didn’t matter what kind of item it was — clothes, shoes, car, appliance, or electronics — but it was guaranteed that Carter had that object through the most expensive brand they had. So it was a surprise not only to Y/N, but also to Carter himself about how excited and touched he was every time the former gave him a gift. “Carter, I’m home!” Her yell seemed to bounce off the walls of his penthouse; one that was merely a living space but was turned into a warm and comforting home once she stepped foot in it, and in his life as well. “Hey, how was Canada?” he asked as he was seated on the sectional couch and patted for the spot beside him. Taking up on his offer she sat beside him as she placed a paper bag in his lap, “It was great! And I got this for you.” smiling, he thanked her for the gift and opened the bag as he pulled out the stuffed moose that was inside it, “A moose?” She nodded her head excitedly, “Well I don’t know, it just reminded me of you. Like you both have this cold and hard exterior; but really you both are softies,” she ended her explanation with a nervous giggle, fear settling in that Carter didn’t really like the gift. But as if he could read her thoughts he eased her nervousness with a smile and booped her nose, “Well it’s the best gift anyone has ever given me; so thank you, princess.” she sighed dramatically and leaned her back against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you and laughs at her silly antics. “That’s what you always say every time I give you something.” Holding the moose with one hand he shook it around as he talked in a silly voice, as if mimicking a cartoon character, “Well that’s because I do love everything you give me.”

will shaw — words of affirmation

In his pursuit of establishing himself as a businessman and entrepreneur, Will has heard a fair share of rejections and bad news. In fact he was so used to hearing these that it was quite rare and refreshing for him to hear reminders of positivity; and it wasn’t until Y/N came into his life and served to be the breath of fresh air for Will. Hanging up the phone call, Will let out an exasperated sigh and loosened the tie on his neck. Despite being successful in securing a meeting with potential business partners, he felt defeated as it took too much time and effort. The ringtone of his phone made him roll his eyes; though he did pick the phone up and answer the call without looking at the caller ID. “Yes, Mr. Scott?” Instead of the husky voice he was just talking to, it was instead the sweet voice of his girlfriend as she teased him, “Not a Mr. Scott, but should I be worried that you might like him more than me?” Upon hearing her voice he chuckled and shook his head, “No babe, there’s only you.” She laughed as well but despite that she was worried about him, “You alright, babe? Have you eaten?” Sitting up straight, he briefed her on what has happened so far, “Yeah I had a salad earlier. But guess what? I have a meeting with Mr. Scott, and if things go well they’re gonna be our business partners.” Her excited squeal made him excited as well, “That’s great babe! I told you that there was no need to doubt your presentation and skill!” Placing his hand on his chin, “I think you’re being too confident in me, babe” he sighed. “Well how could I not?” she said as she began listing off the qualities she admired about him, “You always get back up despite how many times you’ve fallen down, you’re determined to achieve what you want and will do all means to do so, and of course have you seen how good-looking you are? Mr. Scott would be an idiot to say no to that pretty face.” Her last remark had him roaring with laughter and shook his head at his silliness, “Oh babe, you do know how to boost someone’s confidence huh?”

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

Fever

[gif credit to @heytheredeann, I couldn’t find a gif perfect for something like this, I got distracted by a certain someone’s gorgeous face.]

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: all the icky feelings of being sick, fluffy Jensen, sweet Jensen, just Jensen being adorbs!

Word Count: 1,017

Summary: The reader is sick, and Jensen treats her to a unique way to having breakfast in bed.

Square: Breakfast in Bed ( @supernatural-jackles Tell me a story bingo)

Bingo Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

She turned onto her side with a plugged up groan.

The side of her bed cold and empty. Telling her, her boyfriend has been up for a while now.

She and Jensen had a fun night last night hanging out, outside on his balcony. Having a chill date night. Chatting, whine, and the cool night air at his apartment in Vancouver.

She had decided to visit him while he had the weekend off. Maybe being out in the cold for however long was enough for her to get sick with the cold.

She heard the door open.

“You awake babe?” Jensen whispered.

“Barely.” She grumbles.

“You sound awful.”

“I feel awful.”

She felt a warm hand on her head. Jensen furrowed his brow. “You’re running a bit of a fever, how about you stay, rest up. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Okay.” She says, turning her face into the pillow, passing out.

Jensen shaking his head, chuckling.

She’s too wore out to stay up long enough to eat just yet. He thought.

Maybe later when she’s up for it.

She managed to wake up for the day around noon. Jensen no where to be found in the apartment. But a note in the kitchen.

‘Went to get you a few things, rest up, maybe soak up in a nice hot bath. I’ll be home before you know it. – J’

She read his note with a sweet smile growing on her face.

“A bath sounds amazing right now.” She says with a sigh.

She gathered herself a change of comfy clothes, getting a hot bath going. Not too hot but enough for her to tolerate.

Dumping a bath bomb in the tub, letting it fizzle and fill the tub with bubbles and the calming scent of lavender.

Undressing quickly she dips her naked body in the tub. Letting out a sigh of relief and content. The warmth of the water relaxing her muscles. The steam opening up her sinuses.

She slides further down the water, letting her head rest on the tubs edge, the water only getting to her neck. She closes her eyes, content with sleeping in the tub of warm water.

She woke up to feeling a hand stroke a finger across her forehead.

She opened her eyes slowly, not feeling all that better but better than she did originally, seeing Jensen sitting on the tubs edge, brushing dry strands of her hair from her face. Even playing with her hair. She smiles with a hum, leaning into his touch.

“How are you feeling hon?”

“Still sick but better than I did.”

“Well that’s good at least.” He says. Getting up, walking out and coming in quickly with a towel.

“Better get out of there before you turn into a prune.”

She begins to move, the water being a lot cooler than it was when she first got in.

She got up tiredly but with ease. Getting out, walking into Jensen’s awaiting arms as he wrapped the towel around her, drying her off.

She didn’t care too much. She was still too exhausted to care that he was doing what she was well capable of doing.

“Lets get you dressed and in bed.”

“In bed? But it’s three in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, and your still sick. You need your rest. Besides, I got stuff for a killer soup I want to make you if you’re up for it?”

“Sure, soup sounds so good right now.”

She managed to get her clothes on herself, Jensen had changed her bed with clean and fresh sheets, a bottle of Gatorade on her nightstand.

She didn’t protest that she wanted to do other things, she allowed him to guide her to bed and she got herself comfortable.

“I’ll be right back; I just need to check the soup.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Well, I got home probably not long after you got in. I check on you when I got home, and the water was still hot then. So I figured you just got in at that point. So I started cooking the soup, and once it got close to being done I figured it was time to wake you up.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Turned into a prune,” he says with a sweet smile, chuckling. Earning a giggle from her.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I got your game system set up on our TV in here if you’re not sleepy, and if you’re wanting to play some games, watch YouTube or Netflix, we could watch it on there.”

“Got to remind me to go to Best Buy to get our Apple TV fixed.”

“Yeah, been meaning to, just been busy lately.”

“I know, but I still say it needs to be updated.”

“I just think it’s something else.”

“Jensen, I’m telling you when apps crash, it’s a compatibility issue with the software. It’s nothing more than a computer.”

“Such a nerd.”

“I know, you love me.”

“Yes I do.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving to check on the soup.

Coming back with a tray, sitting it on her lap she see’s two bowls of soup, her favorite fruit juice she likes to drink when she’s sick, and small potted plant. The tag saying it’s a sweet blossom, a white spotted Aloe looking plant.

“Aw, thanks Jay.”

“Figured with your allergies, you’d like this type of plant instead.”

“I do like it, but place your bets on how long it’ll take me to kill it.”

“It’s a type of cactus honey, it might take you a while.” Jensen says chuckling.

“Never know, I’m not much of a green thumb.”

“I know.” He says. Kissing her cheek again.

“Nothing like a little breakfast in bed though.” He adds.

“Breakfast? Dude, it’s almost four, and it’s soup.”

“This is your first meal of the day. It’s breakfast.” He says with a smile.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes laughing.

“Dork.”

“I’m your dork, and you love me.”

“Yeah I do, thanks babe. For taking care of me.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

A/N: What’d you think? But seriously, place your bets, I do have my first plant that I think I’m gonna end up killing unintentionally. But let me know what you thought of the story, Feedback is always appreciated. :3

Jensen Girls:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @salt-n-burn-em-all, @backseat-of-deans-67chevy, @moonlight-on-her-skin

Dean Girls:

@akshi8278, @flamencodiva, @misfit0118, @shawnie74, @lyarr24

Dean and Jensen Girls:

@akshi8278, @lyarr24

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 4/11/2021

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gwaciechang · 3 years

Text

I Don't Wanna Go Home (1/15?)

So, this is probably going to be my most ambitious project ever. I'm going to do a fusion of the video gave Subnautica Below Zero, with the characters from Cloverfield Paradox. You don't have to have played Below Zero first, although it would certainly help. Also, as someone who has played the game, I tried my best to explain everything, which is why the first few chapters are going to be really slow, and why everyone talks so much. I also made a change to the canon of the first Subnautica: instead of Riley curing Kharaa, it was the precursors.

So, a few more things before we start this chapter. I hate "y/n l/n" stuff, so I just call the pov character Ling Tam. I don't think anybody actually uses that name in the story, but that might change, and in any case, you're free to replace her name with any name you like. Also, reader is in a relationship with Mundy at the start of the story, although that, obviously, won't last because it's endgame reader/Schmidt. Okay, that's everything, enjoy, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

@hope-to-hell @vicanth @feralrunaway @october505 @potentialproblem01

"Hey, Monk, you told me to come get you if that weird signal showed up ag-" you stop when you see the vehicle technician on the radio.

"When are you going to send me some more art? There's still a patch of bare wall here that could use some color and a touch of genius!" Monk says, probably to his kids, as he waves you away. You close the door as silently as you can, and not a second too soon, because Mundy opens the habitat door and stomps his way inside with a box. Behind him, you can see the prawn suit, with several other boxes still tied to its massive arms. There's an inquisitive face popping out of the water that you decide not to tell him about. Why shouldn't the creatures have a little fun?

"Another day, another slight by the winged furies," Mundy grumbles.

"Another interference alert?" you ask, trying to lay the sympathy on thick before you inevitably burst into laughter.

"As usual," the xenobiologist sighs theatrically. "Also as usual, I went out to see what the problem was. And, of course, it was-"

"Frozen stalagmites of feathered bird excrement," the two of you say together.

"I fear the career impact of saying this officially-"

"If you can even call what you have a career," you interrupt, getting yourself a faceful of dirty towel.

Besides throwing the thing you're really hoping he hadn't just used to wipe up bird shit in your face, your boyfriend continues as if you'd never spoken. "I could swear they're targeting me personally. The week I was out with a flu, I came back to find the tower spotless. Monk laughed at me when I asked him how he'd cleaned it. Silly me!"

"As if Monk would ever clean anything," you agree. "What are you going to do?"

"There's nothing left for me to try but quitting. But I know that's what the birds want me to do," he shakes his fist at the sky as he walks back outside to retrieve the final box.

You turn back to the screen and wonder about the signal again. It's been appearing on and off for days, ever since you got the radio tower up and running, and what would a repeat call be besides a distress signal?

"Ah jeez, these sea monkeys are going to get me in trouble," the box in Mundy's hands is scratched through in places. "This is the third shipment that those buggers have gotten their weird little hands into! Now we're running low on flares and I'm going to have to search nearby nests for stolen cargo," he sighs as he drops a mangled box on the top of his cluttered workstation. It makes a bang that would have disturbed Monk, if he weren't on the radio, or Schmidt, if he were a normal person who came back from work at normal hours. As it is, there's just you to look at him, a welcome break from potential distress signals and what they might mean.

"Just put some of your drawings on the tower, they'll be too scared to go near it!"

"Ha ha," Mundy says sarcastically, before going outside to park the prawn-

"Oh, for fuck's sake! It’s fucking gone!"

You and Monk, still on the radio, step outside, but sure enough, the prawn suit has disappeared without a trace, as far as you can tell.

"I'm still trying, quietly--I don't want any more trouble--to figure out where I went wrong. I was sure Tam had picked up a distress signal!" Monk bends down to peer at the tracks. "I was right on top of it. And then it just," he gets to the edge of the glacier, stands up, and shakes his head, "it just stopped. What if one of the precursors is still down there? And how could a hivemind alien race so advanced that they singlehandedly ended a galaxy wide pandemic leave someone behind? I'll probably be home before I ever get to find out, and it will fall to some future researcher to come and find out, I guess, I hope," he waves the two of you back into the habitat and closes the door. "But that means I'll get to be with you little rascals." His voice fades and disappears.

"So, game tonight?" you ask, hoping to erase the distress off Mundy’s face.

"That'd be nice," he says with a weak smile, just before Jensen slams her door open.

"Mundy, inside!" barks the overseer of operations.

Mundy sighs and drags his feet as he walks into Jensen's office. No sooner has she closed the door with a snap than you and Monk have your heads pressed against the door.

"Mundy, I'm not blaming you, but what do you mean, 'it's gone?' Where did it go? You had trouble retrieving the drop pod and decided to jettison the prawn suit?"

"I didn't jettison the prawn suit! I left it outside to put the supply drop away, went back for it, and it was just gone! Someone must have stolen it."

"Who? Who else do you think is on this planet besides the five of us?"

"It could be a creature ate it. I didn't lose it, that's for sure. I'm careful with my vehicles!"

You can practically hear Jensen’s eyeroll as she continues, "I'm sure you are, but you have to admit, there have been a lot of 'accidents' involving our very expensive vehicles."

"You want to follow me on a few runs tomorrow? See what it's like? Conditions are way harsher than anything I ever imagined. You can't really understand it from inside your office!"

Monk winces, and you know there's a matching pained expression on your face. Talking back to Jensen is a terrible idea, but Mundy's sealed his fate, and now all that's left is to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"That won't be necessary," Jensen says with syrupy calm. "Thank you for your time. I'll write it up as an accident."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mundy's voice is shaky. Jensen doesn't respond, so the vehicle technician’s deliberately loud footsteps approach the door, prompting you and the precursor researcher you're spying with to run like your asses are on fire back to your stations.

"I think it'd be best if Researcher Tam takes over your duties with the leviathan tomorrow," Jensen says, loudly enough for you to hear, even through the door.

Now it's your turn to wince. Mundy gives you a small smile as he walks past, and then Jensen's in your line of sight, hands on her hips.

"I believe I told you to go somewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," you drop everything to put your thermal suit on, and pour a final cup of sweet, sweet dirty bean water in your thermos. There's no cappuccino machine allowed in the cave, lest it somehow thaw out the entire frozen leviathan Mundy, and now you, are studying. Or maybe it was just Schmidt being anal about his robots, you wouldn't put it past the guy whose lips are basically permanently attached to Jensen's ass.

On the bright side, they're also attached to a guy who knows what he's doing, and is thorough in explaining what Mundy does when he's here. Still, it's barely five minutes in when the silence gets to you.

"I love and hate exploring these tunnels," you start to babble, not expecting Schmidt to respond. "Yeah, they're marvels to the power of the ice worms. I mean, the amount of ice they are able to cut through in seconds, it would take us at least a couple days. Their tunneling mechanism is ruthlessly efficient. Alterra could only dream of having this sort of mining capability, and yeah, the ice worms uncover mineral rich pockets as they tunnel. But going beneath the surface is so risky, I mean, we've lost so many already, and I don't understand why we have to stay in this particular area of the glacier. I can't wait to get off this hellhole, or ice hole? Whatever."

You can hardly believe it, but you hear a clear snort coming from Schmidt’s workstation. You fill your flasks with a wide smile on your face, which doesn’t fade even when you make your way back across the tunnel to see his with its usual pinched, sour expression.

"Hey, do you want some coffee?" you wave the thermos at him. "It might help you get the taste of Alterra boot leather out of your mouth," you say in a singsong voice.

"How much sugar and cream is in that?" Schmidt wrinkles his nose. "No thank you."

You decide to let that roll off your back and chuckle a little. "I guess my proclivities toward having coffee with my sugar is well known, huh? Just like how I should know better than to invite you to game night with me and the other researchers, again?"

Is snow blindness affecting your vision, or did Schmidt just smile?

"You should know better," he says in a soft voice, and then he takes out another set of small, sterile flasks, and hands them to you. "Get some samples from the skull, too, use the elevator."

"Thanks!" you grab the flasks, only to drop them the second you put your hand on the elevator lift button, because that's a fucking rotten peeper hanging off the edge.

Schmidt snaps his gloves off and cleans it up, which is nice of him, even if the things he says while he does it aren’t very nice. "Mundy," he practically spits, "always leaving food around. At least the nutrient blocks and the filtered water don't spoil."

"Well, the man likes to munch on things," you try to lighten the mood. "Are you telling me you don’t leave snacks around your workstation?" Schmidt opens his mouth, but you interrupt. "Don't tell me, you have a timer telling you when to go to the fabricator to make food and eat?"

He closes his mouth and turns a little red.

Holy shit, you were right? That's the saddest thing you've ever heard. "Okay, you know what, you are definitely playing Alien Intruders with us tonight, because I'm going to cook. Real food, too, none of that fabricated stuff."

"Oh, I am?" Schmidt raises an eyebrow.

"Yep! And I'm going to make my favorite dish, just for you, you'll love it! Roasted Chinese potato with shredded marblemelon and salt."

That was definitely a snort, maybe even a laugh, and it carries you through the rest of the day.

#ernst schmidt x reader

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

Text

Greetings From Austin: Part II

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 3985

Warnings: a/b/o, bisexuality, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, married life/disagreements, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, surrogacy

*Jensen acting out of character

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: For this part I did some research & delved into a bit of reproductive/genetic testing-please don’t dink me on details, I altered it a bit to fit A/B/O verse.

A/N III: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

Part I

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

One hour later

Jensen sets two sealed cups in the small niche shutting its door and grabs his jacket sliding it on, his inner Alpha purring with satisfaction watching his husband's fumbling fingers working at a button on his shirt, “Need any help babe?”

Jared’s all dilated pupils and glowing cheeks above his thick beard, “I’m good, I'll be out in a few.” Jensen leans in for one more soft, lingering kiss before leaving. Locking the door behind him Jared leans against it, closing his eyes, savoring the last vestiges of his oxytocin high.

He can’t stop recalling that mischievous glint in those luminous green eyes as Jensen slowly licked his plush lips before diving in to kiss him stupid, his long, sinful tongue doing things that’s probably illegal in twenty states, hands with ooh, so thick, talented fingers capable all sorts of magical things.

Shaking himself out of the memory he crossed over to the sink and caught his debauched reflection in the mirror. Shit, he can’t out looking like this.

Turning on the tap cups his hand to catch some of the running water splashing his face to cool off when his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket. Drying his hands and face he pulls it out checking the text. Glancing up he runs a hand over his thick beard, smoothing it down before leaving the room.

Completely preoccupied typing a reply he rounds the corner heading for the doctor's office slamming into a woman knocking her off her feet, the contents of the bag she’s carrying scatter loudly across the floor.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

From her seated position she looks up...and up, his long, long legs clad in low riding jeans barely held up by a loosely buckled leather belt, his shirts rucked-up, a bit of his treasure trail and toned abs flanked by the sharp V of his hip peeking out.

“FuckI’mfuckingsorryFuckdidn’tfuckingsee....”

Jared, embarrassed, keeps apologizing, laced with fuck every other word, squats down gathering scattered items, dropping them back into the bag continuously babbling until she bursts out laughing. “And here I be thinking I said fuck to much,” a subtle lilt in her voice making it sound like she’s saying fook instead.

They move around each other picking up the last of her stuff. Jared reaches for a scarf when the central air catches a few loose strands of her hair, lightly dancing them across his cheek.

He inhales sharply as her piquant scent travels through his system eliciting a rumbling purr deep in his chest, “Fuck..” She breathes out gazing directly into his kaleidoscope eyes, watching mesmerized as they bleed into red with arousal as her eyes flash gold in response.

“I..I..fuck..I’ve gotta go!” She sputters, scrambling to her feet, grabs the bag hurrying away, leaving him holding the scarf.

Lifting the forgotten fabric to his face Jared deeply inhaled her scent, reaching down presses against his cock chubbing up the second time that day. He morosely stares in the direction she fled in once more, a low whine of loss escapes before he tucks the scarf into his back pocket and resumes heading towards the doctor’s office.

Dr. Rodgers, standing just inside in a doorway observing unnoticed, makes a mental note.

***

Jensen watches amused as Jared sits down with a slight wince, a not unpleasant reminder of their recent interlude, teases, “Did I make that much of a mess out of you Jay?”

Jared shrugs with a nonchalant “eh.” Jensen lowers his chin leaning close growling his displeasure at the flippant response, Jared internally shivers knowing he’s gonna pay for it when they get home, much to his delight.

Jensen abruptly stops growling, “You stink like Omega!”

Dr. Rodgers comes in carrying a binder saving Jared from responding, “We’ll get your test results in about two weeks unless we see something that needs further investigation.” He sets down the binder in front of them, opening it to the first page revealing a dossier and picture.

“Now, the next bit is selecting an egg donor. I’m sure you're wondering how we select the donors. I rely on a protein compatibility test, similar to the markers blood test used when matching Alphas and Omegas, narrowing down prospective candidates.

All of our donors are Betas and Omegas. Several of the Betas are willing to be the surrogate too. If you choose to go with an Omega donor we will have the extra step of selecting a Beta surrogate but that’s something to discuss later if needed.

We also take into account your personal preferences when it comes to physical traits, personality, etc. I’ll introduce you to the top three that are the best matches. If for some reason none of them work out, we’ll try the next most compatible candidates.”

Dr. Rodgers clicks his pen, “Let’s get started shall we.”

***

Flipping off the light switch Jensen walks out of the bath to find Jared already asleep. Crossing over to their bed he stopped at his side admiring him.

How had he gotten so lucky to have Jared as his? Over fifteen years since that life changing meeting he was more in love with his mate than ever, the ups and downs in their relationship that could have torn them apart made their marriage stronger.

Jensen took hold of the book Jared had been reading, gently pulling it out of his hand, slid in a bookmark and placed it on the nightstand turning off the lamp.

Easing into his side of the bed he leaned over pressing a soft kiss to Jared’s bare shoulder, who only wore bottoms since he always ran warm. Shifting, Jared buries his face into Jensen's neck, draping a long arm across his chest snuggling close, “Thank you.”

“For what babe?”

“Helping me today,” he could feel Jared’s breath warm against his skin, “I know you're against having more but please don’t decide not to, I want to have pups with you.”

Jensen mentality sighed, he’d be forty-three before they were born and didn’t want to be the old dad. Jared had argued that he'd never be, they knew lots of people were having their families later, look at Reedus, fifty when his daughter came and JDM, he was almost fifty-two when George was born.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll say yes if we find one donor we both agree on,” he felt Jared’s emotions shifting more positive, “but if you like one and me another, I’m not doing it.”

Jared pressed several soft kisses to the side of his neck, “Okay Jen,” he agrees, shifting to lay his head on his shoulder, “we’ll find the one, I can feel it.” he sleepily finishes.

Jensen rests his cheek against the top of Jared's head, not fallen asleep for ages. How was he going to handle Jared’s inevitable disappointment, knowing it will happen since they have always had vastly different tastes in females.

***

Five days later

7:00 A.M.

Jared was up to mile three of his daily workout on the treadmill in his office. He usually ran outside this early in the morning but a surprise thunderstorm altered his plans for the day when his phone rang. He dialed the machine down to walking speed to answer.

“Hello, Mr. Page, this is Sissy from Dr. Rodgers office, I’m sorry to be calling so early. He would like for you to come back in for a follow up about your semen testing.” Jared’s throat tightened, closing off his ability to respond.

He stepped off the machine and sat down on the large leather couch, “Sorry I..what time can I come in?”

“We have an opening at 8:45, will that work?”

“Yes ma’am, I can be there then.”

“Great, we’ll see you in a bit Mr. Page.”

Jared sat back not caring he was getting sweat all over the leather and started his breathing exercise to calm himself, telling his brain to knock it off, surely it wasn’t anything major with how calm Sissy was on the phone.

Ten minutes later he was still anxious but able to handle it. He glanced at his watch and knew he had to get his butt in gear to make the appointment.

Walking into the bedroom he found Jensen softly snoring so he moved as quietly as he could grabbing some clean clothes and headed for the shower. He left a note by the coffee pot saying he had an errand and be back ASAP.

He pulled into the clinics parking lot with five minutes to spare. Tucking his hair into his ever present beanie, Jared slipped on his mask and dashed through the downpour into the clinic.

After being temperature checked, Sissy walked him to the doctor's office. Knocking on the door she opened it and Jared saw the doctor on the phone gesturing for him to come in as he finished his call.

“Hello Mr. Page, thank you for coming in. I wanted to go over a discrepancy the lab found with your test, I'll try not to use too much doctor jargon.” He layed three pages on the table in front of him, a color printout of a sperm DNA strand broke down into segments and the others Jared recognized as chromosome mapping. “These are part of the Alphas sperm DNA sequencing. Normally, this one has a wide band in this segment,” he pointed to a circled area on the right page demonstrating a normal sequence. “This is your sperm's DNA. What I wanted to show you is a variant in the same section,” he circled a column on the left page, “which contains a narrow band instead,” he highlighted one piece of the chain.

“What does it mean?” Jared asked nervously.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t know, I’ve never encountered this variant before. I looked at your previous testing from 2016 and it was also present on that test, not sure why it was overlooked. I’ve consulted with a few colleagues of mine to get their take,” he paused resting his arms on the desk watching Jared’s expression, “Mr. Page, I didn’t ask you to come in to upset you, I prefer to keep my clients in the loop if anything unusual does present with their testing. It’s possibly something that's genetically unique to you and affects nothing. I’d like to run a Tunel test, it’s a sperm chromatin structure analysis, it’ll give us more information to work with.”

Jared fidgeted, desperately wanting to chew on his fingers, “Umm…okay.”

“Good, it's not invasive at all, we just need some more sperm.” Dr. Rodgers says.

~~~

Jensen was stumbling around the kitchen working on his first cup of coffee when Jared walked in carrying a box from his favorite bakery.

“Those aren’t what I think they are?” Jensen asks as Jared sits the box down on the counter. He opens the lid inhaling the scent of decadent cinnamon roll goodness before pulling out one and taking a huge bite moaning pornographically, “Babe, whatever I did to warrant these remind me to do it again,” he says with his mouthful.

Jared chuckles as his mate continues making obscene noises before bending down taken a bit from the other side earning warning snarl.

“You are so not a morning person.” Jared chided sliding the box over to retrieve his own taking it setting down at the island bar pulling a chunk off.

“You wanna share what’s rattling around in that big head of yours?” Jensen inquires. Jared chews slowly before answering. “I got a call from the clinic, something showed up in my test.”

Jensen snapped fully alert, his roll forgotten, and sat down next to him, “Jared, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Jared fiddled with his roll, pulling it apart, “No, not that I’m aware of but they found something off and don’t know what it is. Dr. Rodgers said it’s probably nothing but wanted to run another test to see if he can figure out what it is what if something is wrong and turns out I was the reason Genevieve couldn’t get pregnant I don’t know if I can handle it the possibility of not being able to have pups I’ve wanted them for so long I can’t imagine our lives...”

“Jared,” Jensen sharpness interrupts Jared’s incessant rambling, making him go quiet, “I know you want to go to the worst possible outcome but let’s wait till all the tests are back. If it’s something, we’ll deal, we always do.”

***

August 3rd

“Jen, move your ass, were gonna be late!” Jared bellows from downstairs.

“I’m coming...dammit!” Jensen cursed as he tripped over the boxes left sitting by the bottom step. “You need to get the rest of this shit out of the way, about killed myself again!”

“I’ll stay up tonight moving the rest of this fucking shit if you’ll get a fucking move on!”

The sniping at each other had gotten worse since the house renovations were barely completed before heading back to Vancouver.

Jensen moved his music studio into the newly created space in the basement from the former guest quarters, now relocated to the spacious pool house. The empty upstairs rooms were converted into the eventual nursery/kids rooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them.

“You better start watching your goddamn language cause the last thing we need is for our kids to have a trash mouth like…don’t roll your eyes at me!” Jared threw his arms up in disgust before storming out to the garage getting in Jensen’s truck. They drove to the clinic in silence.

They were flying out tomorrow to quarantine for two weeks before resuming shooting on the eighteenth. Then the clinic called their tests were back and Jared didn’t want to wait till they got back for the results.

After their temperature check they were immediately escorted to the doctor’s office finding him already there. “Mr. Bonham, Mr. Page, pleasure to see you, please have a seat.” They sit next to each other not touching. “Is there something wrong gentleman?”

“Why do you ask?” Jensen barks, “Fuck man, don’t be rude!” Jared bit back earning a glare that makes most sane people back away from Jensen.

“Gentleman, no need to fight. It may surprise you but I actually see a lot of hostility between my clients. I’m sure the added stress of the quarantine while trying to start a family is putting your Alpha instincts more on edge, is it not?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m sorry sir, I was raised better.”

Jared gave an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry too sir, and you're right.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time and understand the situation from your side, my wife and I had trouble conceiving. We ended up having two sets of twins within three years, now that’s stress.”

Jensen blinked, “And I thought mine were a handful.”

Dr. Rodgers laughed, “They are a blessing but honestly, it’s an absolute madhouse at times. So, let’s get back to you two. Mr. Bonham, everything looks good, you are in the top percentile when it comes to mobility and live sperm count for your age group. One of the advantages of being an Alpha, unlike us poor Betas who’s diminish with age.”

“Mr. Page, I also have your results and the Tunel tests which turned out to be something.. unique.”

Jared eyes widened as he paled, his breath hitching, feeling his stomachs spastic tightening making him about vomit. He knew it, he knew something was going to go wrong, his brain didn’t lie to him this time.

Jensen was out of his chair and utilizing his Alpha strength turned Jared’s towards him before kneeling between his legs reaching up to firmly grip the sides of his head forcing him to focus on him opens up his side of their bond he’d shut the other day when they were arguing to gauge how bad this one was.

“Hey Hey, concentrate on me, I need you to breathe with me,” he held Jared’s gaze for several minutes as their breathing cinqued up, feeling him relaxing.

“There you go big guy. It wasn’t that bad, focus on your breathing okay.” Jared nodded embarrassed as Dr. Rodgers sat a bottle of water in front of him, “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

“No, he’s fine, thank you,” Jensen answers, getting up retaking his chair as Jared took a long drink from the bottle, “he’s usually more aware of these attacks but since the damn lock-downs.” Jensen shook his head in disgust, “We're heading back to Vancouver tomorrow to finish our sh..job before his new one starts late October. I guess it’s really hitting us both that it's finally ending.”

“Mr. Ackles, you can say show,” Jared and Jensen stare at him in surprise, “my daughters are fans, I know more about the Winchester brothers than a man my age should.” Dr. Rodgers ruminates, “Mr. Page, are you ready for me to continue?” Jared nodded as Jensen wrapped both of his hands around his free one.

“After I received the results I spoke with a specialist in Alpha genetics. They looked at all your tests and came back with a conclusion I’ve never heard of before.” The doctor laid a printout on the desk, “This is a visual aid to help me in explaining.”

“Chemoattactants are what a female's egg releases to attract the sperm to it. You know how it works from there; sperm meets egg, sperm penetrates egg and viola, fertilization. Alphas sperm has evolved allowing them to inseminate all three sub-genders, whereas male Omegas sperm is sterile since they possess both sets of reproductive organs but only need to utilize one.”

The doctor sets all three of Jared’s tests and the normal example on his desk for them to see, “This chromatin structure you carry Mr. Page,” he points to the highlighted section, “has altered so that the eggs of Alphas and Betas are chemorepellent to your sperm, rejecting fertilization.”

Jared sat still-shocked, blankly staring at the results lying before him, vaguely feeling Jensen reaching across their bond again. “Does this mean he’s...infertile?” He can hear Jensen hesitant inquiry, like he's standing across a vast chasm.

“In conventional terms, yes. This is the reason you were unable to conceive with your previous spouse, being a Beta, and there is still no medical intervention available that would have helped. What’s unique is his sp...”

Jared was numb. His dreams of a little Padackles tearing around their home had literally been salt and burned before his eyes with those test results.

In the recesses of his attention he’s aware of the continuing conversation around him, the longer it goes on, the more his brain is tuning out.

~~~

The first thing he becomes aware of are fingertips caressing his face, softly wiping away wetness damping his cheeks. Slowly blinking the blurry shape in front of him comes into focus.

Jensen is sitting in front of him. More accurately, he’s sitting cross legged in between his own splayed legs on the floor. Jared frowns as his senses are coming back online.

He was sitting on the chair that’s now off to his right so how did he end up with his back against the desk?

“You passed out,” Jensen answers his unspoken question, “and scared the ever-living shit out of me! I thought you were having an aneurysm the way your eyes rolled back into your big head!”

“I..I..don’t know what happened, I was looking at the results, you were asking questions..then nothing.”

“Stress Jared, you are completely stressed out and it's fucking with your illness!” He opens his mouth, “No, I’m not done so be quiet.” Jensen’s voice dropped with his Alpha tone overlaying it,

“Between that final script having you nuts all year, this quarantine fucking up your meds, dealing with your businesses shutdowns, getting Walker started, you had to add pushing for pups, it’s no wonder you couldn’t handle the doctor explanation of...”

“Explanation of what?” Jared lashes back in own Alpha voice, leaning forward into Jensen’s space, his eyes flashing red, “That I’m infertile, sterile, shooting blanks..”

“Shut that fucking mouth for two minutes or I swear I’ll deck you.” Jensen’s normally warm green eyes bleed into a fierce red, becoming hard.

Jared’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. They had gotten into plenty of arguments over the years, gotten in each other’s faces a few times but this was a first. Jensen had never, ever threatened physical harm.

Well, somewhat that time Misha set him off during a panel and he went for him afterwards. Misha stupidly goaded him again before Jensen gave him a shove, ordering him to cool off before he had to do something.

Jensen’s jaw ticked as he mentally counted to ten, “Dr. Rodgers said that you couldn’t impregnate another Alpha or Beta right?”

“Right.”

“The part you zoned out is that your sperm wants to only fertilize an Omega’s eggs.”

Sighing heavily, Jensen crawls over a leg to sit against the desk next to him. Jared pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees processing this information as Jensen reaches over and gently rubs his hand in random patterns over his back.

They had mutually agreed on a Beta donor. Now this threw a wrench in the plans.

“Maybe this is a sign we’re rushing into this again. Let’s take a step back and consider all our options.” Jared’s muscles stiffened under his hand.

“I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping.”

“Wait...what?”

Jared lifted his head, “I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping. I realize this isn’t what you want so don’t worry, I’m not gonna hold you to our agreement.”

Jensen exhaled sharply knowing when Jared spoke in that tone, that was it, end of discussion, mind made up.

Jared gets up, “I’m going to find Dr. Rodgers and see if he's still willing to help me. If you want to leave, go. I’ll get an Uber when I’m done.” He walks out quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck!” Jensen closed his eyes thumping his head back against the desk. He knew he had screwed up and there was only one way to make it right.

***

Jensen asked Jared to let him stay, he was wrong for saying that and he'd be open to one of the Omegas as a possible donor too. Jared wasn’t completely appeased but he was happy Jensen didn’t take the out given him.

The three candidates were smart, attractive, lovely scented Omegas in their twenties that any Alpha looking for a prospective mate would seriously consider, leaving Jensen wanting something else.

“I like aspects of all three Jay, but honestly, I'm not feeling it with any of them.”

“Maybe you’ve reached the stage you’re looking for more substance, less aesthetic.”

“Did you just call me old?” Jensen gaped at his husband.

Before Jared responds, Dr. Rodgers enters, “I see from your expression Mr. Bonham that you haven’t decided on a candidate.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like any of them, there isn’t a..”

“Connection. It’s normal, just because your Alpha doesn’t mean you..desire every Omega you cross paths with. With some it takes time to find the right one.” He looks at his watch.

“We’re at the end of our appointment but I have one more donor I’d like you to meet today. She’s doesn’t exactly fit your personal physical preferences but this omega is...special..and she’s willing to be the surrogate too.”

The doctor opens the door gestures to someone. They stand up to greet her and as she enters they are enveloped by her piquant scent.

“Mr. Page and Mr. Bonham, this is Quinn.”

***

tbc

Part III

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

SPN: @donnatix @lyarr24

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#j2 #alpha!jensen ackles x alpha!jared padalecki #j2 fanfic #alpha!jensen ackles #jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #jared padalecki #alpha!jensen x alpha!jared x omega!ofc #j2 au #j2 husbands #surrogate #supernatural

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shawn-mendes-post · 3 years

Text

Truth

A/n: This is part two of the new series. The first, part is called Broken Promises. Hope you like this chapter. I have a few ideas for the next and how I want her to meet Timothee again.

You stared at him, debating on if you should tell him the truth, knowing it will be painful. 'Talking could help me process how our relationship got to this point. It is also, Dyl, and he knows how to keep a secret,' you think, biting your lower lip, unsure. You start thinking about the rough drafts of many songs about this break-up, lying in your journal, waiting to finish. A ton of songs waiting to release to the world, not even your manager knew about the countless songs that sit completed and the ones that still need work.

"Nothing, " you spoke in a quiet voice, shrugging your shoulders, wanting to do anything but talk about what was the issue. You remain silent, glancing anywhere but Dylan. Talking was not a strong suit of yours because of how weak you might seem to that person. Bottling up your feelings is more your route until you dedicate a day of watching sad movies to cry your emotions out.

" You know, I will keep things between us? I would never tell anyone what we talk about," Dylan said, placing a hand on your shoulder, wanting to give you some comfort. He knew something weighing on you and decided he would help in whatever way he can. He sees you as a little sister and would always be overprotective of you on set where other guys would try to flirt with you.

"I will tell you, but it is a long story. I should make coffee," You said, heading to the kitchen to make a pot since filming starts tomorrow, and there will be no sleep tonight. You knew Dylan would keep pestering until you broke down, so you tried to prepare yourself for this series of conversations. How would I tell him I had a secret fiancee who ended up being unfaithful. 'How am I supposed to tell him the guy was Shawn Mendes, the lovable, sweet, no cussing, Canadian. No one would in their right mind think he would be capable of cheating. Hell, I am still wrapping my mind around this.'

Dylan nods, following you to the tidy kitchen, where Dylan placed the grocery bags when he came in. He got a few things for you, thinking you would want to go shopping in a few days. Dylan helps unload the bags, placing the items on the counter, keeping an eye on your figure. He felt like he had to brace himself for what you will tell him since he knew there are some things you keep to yourself. 'She could have this whole double life, and I would not know,' Dylan thinks because most of the time you spend is filming. He is usually touring or spending time with Lydia, but there are some times he can take you out. Another issue is how busy you are and the need to travel all over the place. He questions how you could still have the energy to act in all these movies without feeling drained. Dylan worried about you at times, sending messages to remind you to take a break whether, to read a book or get something to eat, knowing you might forget to eat.

You are tense when you make the coffee, hands shaking when you pour the water in the pot. Some of the water splashes on the counter, "Shit," you mumbled, looking for something to clean up the spill. Paper towels handed to you, which you thank Dylan for, sending a grateful smile in his direction.

---

The two of you sit down with a cup of coffee cooling on the table, both not knowing what to say. Sighing, you open your mouth to spill everything.

"I was in....no, that is not right. I have been in a secret relationship for the past two years," you blurted out, straightforward, not wanting to beat around the bush. Dylan, who took a sip of his coffee, started choking; his eyes widen at what he heard. You would not look Dylan in the eye, waiting for his response.

"How come the two of you never told anyone?" Dylan asked through his wheezing, catching his breath. You frown, moving to pat Dylan on his back lightly, understanding it is a big deal to date a famous singer, adored by many fans. 'He has not figured out who the guy I was with yet.'

"Wait, who was he," Dylan asked, curiously, recalling all the guys it could be, from someone on set to a fan. "In the beginning, it seemed exciting that no one knew, but it started to get old." You explained, skipping Dylan's question on purpose to explain the relationship first.

"We met through mutual friends, but no one knew due to me liking my personal life private. We were perfect, Dyl. I don't know what happened to us, " you sigh, blowing to help cool down the coffee. "We spent as much time with each other as we could without getting suspicious, not wanting the paparazzi from finding out. We would stay in and have dinner, depending on if we here free," you stop talking to take a sip of the coffee.

Dylan stays quiet, wanting to listen to every single word, knowing this must be very serious to talk about; especially, with how long the relationship was a secret. Dylan watched the heartbreak flash across your face, wishing he could take the pain away from you. You did not deserve to feel any pain but did deserve all the happiness in the world.

"Well, this summer, things changed in our relationship. He was working on a project with his friend, the one I felt insecure around sometimes due to their close bond. Their song is released, and their fans went into a frenzy, questioning if the two were dating. At the time, she was in a relationship herself, so that did give me some comfort. However, that did not stop something from happening between the two. He would not answer my calls, and I just had a feeling something horrible happen. He lied to me, and the paparazzi found him and her together. I kept trying to get in contact with him, but he did not respond. I knew something about their relationship was off, but I did not expect this."

Dylan listens, trying to find out the man that hurt his friend, not wanting to bring any more pain for you. He felt like this is the start of getting over the heartbreak. He sets the cups of coffee down before wrapping you into a tight hug, hoping to bring some comfort. You sniffle, starting to break down once more, feeling safe in his arms. He has a comforting aroma of pine and sandalwood, which surprises you, thinking he would smell more like the ocean.

Breaking down, you hide your face in his chest, not liking the idea of anyone seeing you cry. You felt him comforting you, making you wonder what happened to your relationship. "I...am...sorry," you said, hiccuping now and then, feeling slightly better than before.

"You do not need to apologize for anything. I love you (Y/N). You are one of my best friends, and I said I am by your side. Now, let your feelings out," He whisperers, running his fingers through her silky hair, knowing she likes when he does it. The two stay like that for some time until you fall asleep in his arms.

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

A few weeks have passed, and you have been feeling slightly better with each day. Shawn has left multiple voicemails, but you have not listened to them. You are preoccupied with shooting season four and do not have a lot of time to think about Shawn. You have even been writing more songs and talking to your manager about taking a break from acting to pursue music.

Right now, you are shooting a scene with Dyl outside by the docks, having a sibling moment between the two Jensens before Justin comes in.

Clay is standing next to the pier, staring into the ocean, with a troubled look on his face. He does not know what is going on in his life. He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder, making him look back to see his younger sister, Jona.

Jona's eyes filled with worry and unshed tears, which made her (e/c) pop out, which could have any man on his knees for her. Her (h/c) locks swaying from the air gently as she moves closer to him.

"I knew you would be here, Clay. I know something is going on with you, and you don't need to tell me. I want you to know I will always be by your side, never doubting you." Jona moves to wrap her arms around his waist, head laying on his chest, looking up at him.

"You can tell me anything, and I will never think less of you. You are my big brother, Clay. I will always look up to you, and that won't change. I hate seeing you have the world on your shoulders, Clay. Not everything is up to you alone; allow others to help," Jona says before stopping when she spots Justin coming their way.

Clay felt tears streaming down his face, wrapping Jona in his arms, needing this support. He knows the others are worried about him breaking, but that is because of their secrets. He knew his parents worry about him and making him see the therapist again. However, Jona saying these things make him want to spill his guts about everything. Hannah, the mixtape, Bruce, Ani, Taylor, spring dance, Monty, and even Jeff, everything, but he did not want to drag her into this mess. He holds her tight against him, trying to remember how things used to be before Hannah Baker walked into their lives.

Justin comes close, standing awkwardly, feeling left out, but does not say a thing. He waits for the two to break up their hug to look at him. "They are wondering where the two of you are," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his.

"Cut!"

You smile nostalgic, knowing the series is coming to an end. Your smile dropped when a familiar singer is in the crowd of people, where fans are surrounding him. You could see him holding something but could not see exactly what. Dylan notices your change of mood, glancing to see what has your attention. His eyes widen, noticing that Shawn Mendes is here but not understanding why. Then suddenly, everything clicks in his mind, making him glare at the man. Dylan starts to stride towards this man, ready to cuss this man out for hurting you. However, someone grabs him, making him stop to look at the person. His glare softens when he meets your eyes, knowing to stop.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He whispered, feeling the curious glances from the cast and crew. She nods her head before grabbing her phone. She sends a quick text before heading to get change, not wanting to deal with the conversation at her job. Dylan follows her, but not without noticing Mendes walking off in a different direction.

---

You took your time to change, not wanting to confront Shawn at the moment. You could hear the gossip between the crew, wondering why Shawn Mendes is here on set, knowing he should be off somewhere for his concert. Your name got mentioned a couple of times, but you do not butt in, not wanting to give them a reaction. Slowly, Dylan comes to finds you, wondering how you are feeling but not wanting to say anything to upset you.

"Where did you tell him to go?" Dylan spoke up, getting closer to his car since they carpool together and switch cars to make it fair. She sighs, not wanting to deal with anything but wanting to sleep in her bed after a long cry.

"I told him not at my job. He wants me to come to a restaurant and talk in a quiet setting. I have the location on my phone," you said, starting the GPS. The drive is quiet, the two listings to the radio, both thinking about how things will go down.

"Are you sure it is okay for me to come?" Dylan asked, noticing how fancy and romantic the restaurant is, not wanting to be a third wheel.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair, feeling uncomfortable with the thought of going alone. " I am pretty sure we won't stay long. I have to get this over with, and I know I will take Shawn back if I am alone."

Dylan nods, getting out to open her door, lending his arm for her to take. They start to walk towards the entrance, dread filling their stomachs for different reasons. They are lead to a table where Shawn sat with flowers and a box of chocolates on the table in a dark corner. Shawn smiles when he sees you but frowns when he notices Dylan is there with you.

---

You plop down onto the bed, sighing after the long day you had. The quiet room helps calm your racing heart as you close your eyes, thoughts wandering back to the awkward dinner.

You stare at the other occupants eating dinner, having an ordinary evening, not knowing what is happening. The atmosphere is calm and collected. The fancy restaurant is not busy, which made you feel more at ease.

"Hi," Shawn said meekly, getting up, opening his arms as if to hug her, but she moves out the way. A frown flashes on his face before he moves to sit down again.

"How are you?" He asked after coughing awkwardly. Shawn glance at Dylan with curious eyes but does not comment on his presence.

"Fine," You comment shortly, not wanting to break down your walls. Dylan moves to sit down next to you, wanting to help you get through this dinner.

Shawn runs his hands through his curls, thinking about what he can do to make things up to her. " I am sorry," Shawn said, after a few moments of silence after ordering some food.

Your eyes feel watery as you stare at him, reflecting all the memories with him. Your right hand goes to your chest, your heart aching at the visions of Shawn laying in bed, her laying on his chest. The two kissings while Shawn runs his hands through Camilia's hair.

Maybe I should be more like her, you think, trying to blink away the tears.

"(Y/N), " Dylan spoke quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder, worried about you. Your eyes flicker towards his before glancing at the table.

"Shawn, I need you to answer two questions. I want you to be truthful." You croak, feeling your throat clog up.

"Anything," Shawn said, breathless, wanting to fix things. He fidgets in his seat, wanting to reach out to grab her hands, to kiss her, to touch her.

" Did you sleep with her?" You whisper, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation to be in their business. Shawn's eyes widen, cheeks flush as he remembers that night. Her soft skin on his, her lips around his..., he bites his lower lip.

"I... I " He starts to speak but stops trying to think about what he is going to say. He stays silent, avoiding looking at both of them, knowing he is hurting her more by being silent.

"Do you love her?" You spew out, knowing you had to get the question out before it was too late. You narrow your eyes, wanting his every movement, needing to get the truth even if it hurts. You always had a feeling his songs were about her, despite him reassuring you.

Your eyes draw to how tense he becomes, his hands fidgeting, eyes shift towards her face to the table. His lips thin as his eyebrows furrowed, as if in deep thought.

Shaking your head, your hand seeks Dylan's, needing the strength to get through this moment.

"I do," Shawn confesses, glancing at (Y/N) with sad eyes, knowing this will destroy their relationship.

(Y/N) the grip tightens on Dylan's hand, closing his eyes to take a deep breath, not wanting to lash out in public. You move to get up, shaking your head in denial.

" I can't. I want nothing to do with you, Shawn Peter Raul Mendes," You hissed, in a low voice, feeling the tears slip out. Quicky, you leave, making sure your head is down, exiting the restaurant hearing clicks. Your hair is in your face as you walk away, not caring about the paparazzi, not caring, you left Dylan, not caring that cheater was alone, not caring about anything.

tag list

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@sspidermanss

@turtoix

@unpredictabledinosaur

#shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #reader insert #shawn #shawn peter raul mendes #you #reader #shawn x camila #shawn x reader x timothee #timothee chalamet x reader #dylan minnette

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

Part 2

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Grief, dealing with the death of parents, talk of arranged marriage, some language probably? I think that’s it really.

Word Count: 1866

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

The church was quiet today, contrary to the place that Jensen remembered from his childhood. The gray carpets and dark auburn pews that sat on top of it in three rows were empty. There were no sounds of the musicians warming up, not the quiet rumble of chatter as people made their way to their Sunday seats.

Just silence.

All the lights were off, all but the small spotlights above the pulpit that matched the color of the pews.

A large cross with a battered man with his head hanging down on his chest hung on display for the whole of the church to see. A crown of thorns on his head, and a cloth draped around his waist.

Jensen sat in the very front row in the middle of the dark church, staring up at the man on the cross, wondering if he even knew he was down there looking up at him.

For years he'd played a character on a show that emphasized the idea of a higher deity which was God. He had been raised to know this God. He'd been taught all the Sunday school lessons all the good boys learned. He’d been baptized as a young child like so many others in the baptistry that now stood empty in the very back of the church behind the choir loft.

He knew the bible, he knew the story, he'd heard the sermons. Still something was missing; something still felt out of place.

He'd been taught how to go through the motions. He’d been able to fake it through most of his young and adult life. Now though, he couldn't help but find himself wondering if this man that had supposedly died, hung on a rugged cross, bearing the sins of the whole entire world even knew he existed, because here lately he sure felt alone.

Looking down at his hands that were folded in his lap, he could see they were starting to show his age. He wasn't a young man anymore, he could see it even in his hands. Middle age had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. All the stunts that he'd insisted on doing himself had scared his knuckles. He's body felt all the aches and pains of the stupid things he'd done when he was younger.

He was the same person that sat on this pew every Sunday as a young man and child, yet he wasn't.

He was scared now, inside and out. He let a woman lie to him. Tell him she loved him, when really it was just a breeding marriage of which she got three children, and a whole lot of money.

Which is what she wanted more than anything. The money that is.

The night he'd caught her with his best friend was the night he'd done a whole lot of rethinking. What if he'd have never left home for California? Sure he was successful and rich, but what had that gotten him? A gold digging whore, who loved nothing but money and herself.

Most men his age had a family and a home. He had nothing. A broken family, and three kids that barely recognized him at best.What if he would have married her? She probably would have given him children, a home and a family of his own. She would have been faithful. A good wife.

Fulfilling the duties that he'd watched his mother and grandmother perform. What a wife should do.

Not run around on you, and steal money that didn't belong to her.That's when Jensen decided it was time to come home, and do what he should have done all those years ago.

He knew about Y/n. Hell he was 11 years old when she was born. He held her at the hospital. She was the first baby he'd ever held. All his childhood he'd been told that was who God had picked for him to marry.

He remembered how heartbroken his mother was on his wedding day to Danneel. How disappointed his father was.They were right about her. He should have listened.

If he'd just married y/n, he'd never would have had to go through this heartache. She'd be by his side with a family that he could be proud of. Even if there was 11 years between them.

Thankfully, the night he filed for divorce with his now ex wife he called his dad, telling him he'd seen the error of his ways, and wanted to make it right. Y/n wasn't married off to another man. She was still living at home with her parents.

The arrangement was made at her birth.

It still held to this day.

The tragedy of her parents passing had definitely made things a lot more difficult. More so than they had to be.

He'd allowed her to go through the motions of the proceedings of her family's funeral. Holding off on coming to marry her until she was past all of that. He'd waited this long, which was two more days.

Right now, she was at her parents house packing their belongings. He'd wanted to go meet her there and help her, but the pastor said it best to just wait here for them to bring her to him properly.

Jensen heard the heavy wood door drag across the carpet behind him and close with a pop, echoing through the empty sanctuary.

He didn't bother to turn around, just continued to stare at his hands and play with the expensive Rolex that sat on his wrist just under this black dress shirt, and black suit coat as his father's distinct heavy footsteps made their way towards him until they stopped and took a seat next to him.

"Pastor Burton just called. They are en route to the church now. Your mother is on her way with your siblings to witness the exchanging of the vows, and to sign the marriage license as witnesses."

Jensen didn't say a word, just nodded his head. Now looking back up at the man on the cross they called Jesus.

"You're doing the right thing son. I want you to know that." Alan said, looking at his son carefully. Trying to read his features.

Jensen though, showed little to no emotions.

He'd learned how to bury those types of things in the industry. Emotion that wasn't written on paper was a sign of weakness. Not something you needed to portray unless asked to. No matter how deeply you felt it.

"Jensen, there's something you need to understand. I'm not lecturing you, I realize you are a grown man. You’re 41 years old and perfectly capable of making your own decisions, but this girl, even though she's 29 years old, she's been heavily sheltered. Like all the girls in the church chosen by God to marry. Don't take her to that fast Hollywood lifestyle and expect her to be able to conform, cause she won't."

Jensen sat up a little straighter, and threw his left arm over the back of the pew, playing with the wood grain with his fingers.

"I know Dad. I didn't plan to. I'm going to be lying low for a while, I need a break. I spent 15 years of my life building Supernatural.It's my turn to build a life. I can't do that if I'm off somewhere filming, and just leaving y/n at some large house somewhere and expecting her to fall in love with me."

Alan nodded his head in agreement, silently breathing a sigh of relief.

"So are you planning on staying here in Dallas? So she can continue in the church?"

"No." Jensen answered finally, looking at the man that was an older image of himself.

"I told you a long time ago dad, I don't agree with everything that goes on here. I've been out in the world, I've seen how normal people function, and this isn't going to hold me. I can't just let it all go."

"So where are you going to take her?" Alan asked, trying to hide the disappointment that Jensen would once again be disappearing.

"Austin. I've been living in a hillside house that I purchased a while back. The one we were using as a rent house after the renovations on the lake house were done. I'm going to take her there in the morning while we get to know each other a little better. Once we're a little more sure of each other we will decide together where, and how we want to put down roots."

Alan nodded his head, watching his son intently.

"So you intend to make this girl fall in love with you."

"Yes, I do. I want this to be a real marriage. I realize that this would have been a lot easier if I’d have done it when I was supposed to, and her parents were still alive. I understand she's going through a lot emotionally, and I'm not looking forward to asking her to consummate the marriage tonight, even though I know it's what has to be done."

Alan tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat. He hadn't even thought that far ahead.

"Just be patient with her son. She's never done anything like this before I'm sure. They are rarely let out of the slight of their family. I'm sure she's tired, stressed, and scared. She's only seen you on what little bit of TV she was allowed to watch, I'm sure they didn't allow her to watch Supernatural. Her mother was deeply involved and devoted to the church."

Jensen nodded his head. He could feel his heart racing at the gravity of what his father was saying. For the first time he was getting nervous.

"Does she even remember me?" Jensen asked his father, feeling very small right now in the situation that was weighing down on him.

"I don't know son, I haven't spoken to her since the wake of her parents."

Another sound of the door opening and both men turned to see Donna, and Jensen's siblings making their way down the aisle. Jensen stood and wrapped his arms around his mother as she approached him.

"It's good to see you again Mom." He said, breathing in deep the comforting smell that was his mother's perfume, something that he hadn't done in a very long time. A flood of childhood memories filled his mind.

Pulling away from her finally, he greeted his siblings with a short nod that they'd returned. Both of them kept their distance.

"Are you ready Mr. Ackles?" Bro. Charles said, making his way down toward the small group of people. Jensen took a deep breath, and looked over at the young man who was clearly trying to keep his distance.

"I'm ready." Jensen said, as Charles went to turn all the lights on in the sanctuary.

Jensen took his place standing in front of the altar as directed. He looked down at the small table that said, "Do this in remembrance of me" on it. Where the marriage license lay, awaiting their signatures.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

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Tag List: @deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen series #x reader inserts #fanfiction #fanfic #spn #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #dean winchester #jawritter #jawritter 1k celebration

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

The Best I Can

Summary: Jensen can’t handle losing both of his parents. He feels like it’s his fault and it’s eating him alive. But his brother is stepping up, determined to try and help.

Marvel Kiddos: Jensen Barton and Jorund Lokisson (also a bit of Maggie Howlett, not much)

Word Count: 2390 words

Warnings: angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, lots of crying and self-loathing, a man actually experiencing genuine pain and emotions and showing them

Song: Best I Can by Art of Dying

Things had taken a shift. There were no missions. And if there were, they did solos. And Jensen…He was left alone. The only person that dared keep an eye on him was the very one that had been so keen on ignoring his existence.

Jorund.

He watched from the windows as Jensen worked through his aggression. Every day. For hours. It seemed Jensen was clinging to his anger, letting it fester and eat him alive. The only person he ever let in the room was Lena. And that was only because she could set up complex courses for him. Acrobatic creations that he had to think to work through.

Jorund knew he needed space. He respected that. But Jensen was being given too much. And rather than doing anything about it, Benjamin was allowing it.

“You can’t stay here, watching him all the time.”

Jorund didn’t look up, jaw clenching as he took a slow breath. If it had been Benjamin to say that, he might’ve slugged him. No care for whether he was a leader. However, Benjamin wasn’t that stupid. Jorund spared a small glance at Maggie. As much as he knew she was right, he wasn’t willing to see that yet. Instead, he looked back to Jensen.

“How long would you stay?” He shrugged. “How long would you give him to get over it? What’s the timeline?”

Maggie looked through the window as Jensen swung through the air. He moved so much like his old man. The man who had trained them.

The man who was gone.

“There isn’t one.” She hesitated. “But it’s his pain to work through. We have to find a way to respect that.” They watched him fall. The way his hands dug into the floor for only a second, shoving himself to his feet. “Benji has an assignment for you. He thinks it’ll do you some good. Y’know…” She looked at Jorund again. “To get out.”

“Just give me a minute.”

Tonight I feel like the world won't miss me So much to say but there's no one listening If we're alone are we all together in that

Jensen had been more than aware of their curious eyes. Always watching. Cautiously waiting for him to snap. He sniffed, refusing to let the tears fall. They didn’t get to see that side of him. They were teammates, but they weren’t his family.

They didn’t get it.

“You can do it, Jensen. I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”

He lied. It might have been completely unintentional, but it was there. A lie. Jensen squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp inhale forced through his teeth. He looked back to the set. Time to go again.

Lifting himself higher and higher, he only stopped when he got to the highest beam. Thirty feet in the air only because any higher and they’d have to move the equipment outside. He dusted his hands, forcing himself to be light on his feet.

Then…he jumped. Swinging, the world around him became a blur. The rush of wind and adrenaline numbed his nerves. It numbed the pain.

He released. Body flying, curling and flipping until his hands caught the next beam.

But…

Jensen’s fingers slipped. He fell.

His back broke his fall. The air was knocked out of his lungs. They ached, desperate to stop.

Or was that just him?

“Jensen!”

He groaned, rolling onto his side. Maggie and Jorund were running to his side, offering him too many hands. Too much help. “Stop!” He rolled onto his stomach. Those damned tears came back. He took a slow breath, lungs screaming just as he wanted to.

“Jensen – “

Maggie interrupted his half-brother. “Are you okay?”

No. Of course he wasn’t. First his mom. Now his dad. Jensen pressed his forehead to the mat. Another breath. “I’m fine.” He pushed himself up. Fingers brushed his shoulder and he jerked, glaring at Jorund. “I’m fine.”

They watched him leave. Jorund didn’t have to look at Maggie, telling her, “That’s why I’ve been watching. Because he needs someone and he doesn’t think he has anyone.” I threw a penny in a well for wishing and prayed for all the things I think I'm missing A little time is all I really need

And so it went. Anger turned to pain. To desperation and absolute heartbreak. For another month Jensen spent his time either in his room or in the training room. However, as more time passed, he spent more time within the confines of his room, creating a prison. He was struggling and refused to see it. He refused to admit that maybe, just maybe, he needed help.

He was curled up in the bathroom, knees tucked in his chest and hair a mess. The tears he had kept at bay for so long…they came. There was no way around it. His body was trembling. Body aching. He wanted it to stop. God, he just wanted it to stop. Please.

Another sob racked through his body. His fingers dug into his biceps, clawing and yet incapable of taking away the pain he was so desperate to rid himself of.

“Jensen, stop acting like a child! I know you’re capable. I’ve seen it. You’re smart too. So why act like this?”

His chest shook, lungs aching for a clean breath that wouldn’t come. Jensen had tried so hard. So damn hard. Day in and day out until he realized it wouldn’t make a damn difference. And if it doesn’t make a difference, what was the point? He’d always be a disappointment. Now…Now there was no way to prove himself.

It was too late.

They were gone.

And he had failed I am doing the best I can with everything I am Don't you know nobody's perfect Do you understand how hard I'm trying to do the best I can The best I can

A second chance to give you something It takes a lifetime to come from nothing I refuse to believe in running away

Knock! Knock!

Jensen didn’t react even with the door shaking against his back. Whoever had slipped into his room, they could slip right back out. He didn’t care. He didn’t want company.

Knock! Knock!

“Jens.” Silence. Jorund grimaced. He drummed his knuckles against the wood once more. “Jensen, come on.” He hesitated, looking around the room. Dirty clothes and untouched food were left here and there. He couldn’t imagine what state his brother was in.

As difficult as their relationship had been, it was harder to see him like this. All he wanted to do was help. Fuck different fathers. Fuck the team. Fuck any of it.

“Just…let me in, Jensen. Please?”

More silence.

Jorund sighed softly. “Jensen, I promise, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here when you need me.” I am doing the best I can with everything I am Don't you know nobody's perfect Do you understand how hard I'm trying for you I am doing the best I can with everything I am Don't you know I think you're worth it Do you understand how hard I'm trying to do the best I can The best I can I got a picture of what matters and I keep it close to my heart It's a little faded but so am I

Jensen had managed to crawl into his bed, curled under the covers with the curtains drawn and a darkness ever present in the room. It was what he wanted? Right? “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.” He rolled over, facing the wall.

It wasn’t like he expected to sleep. The last time he had actually been able to get a full night’s rest…Well, it was before all of this. He curled up tighter, clinging to his pillow. He needed one night. One night of sleep. Where he could breathe. Where he wasn’t absolutely terrified of what would be waiting in his slumber. But still…sleep came.

“Jensen, wake up. Come on, you big oaf, wake up!”

Jensen jerked, sitting up as fast as his body could. He moved abruptly, with no focus, and knocked heads with whoever had woken him. There was a shakiness to his body. A cold, clammy layer of sweat and wide, frightened eyes. His chest heaved, aching as oxygen forced its way into his lungs.

“Fuck, you got a hard head.”

Jensen blinked. The blurriness in his vision faded. He frowned, panting as he realized who had woken him.

“Jorund? What are you – “

“You were having a panic attack,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “Could hear you screaming across the damn hall.”

Body still ridged, Jensen let himself think, processing what Jorund had said. He was having a panic attack? Shoulders finally easing, he stared at the bed. It was drenched from his sweat. Nose scrunching at the idea, he looked away.

“Hey.”

Jensen shook his head. He didn’t want to look at Jorund. The idea of being teased mercilessly? It didn’t sit well with him.

“You’re crying.”

Jensen grimaced, angrily wiping the tears away. “What, no joke? No snide remarks?”

“I mean, I haven’t been saying anything like that for a while. I’m just worried about my brother.”

Jensen scoffed, twisting around and pressing his back against the wall. “We’re not brothers.”

“Damn.” He shifted, sitting next to him. “Guess Mom had some explaining to do, huh?”

Something almost sounding like a laugh escaped Jensen. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah, I do. Which is why I can say this…” He looked at Jensen. “We’re brothers. No half, if, and, or but in there. I should’ve treated you better. And it shouldn’t have taken this for that to happen.”

Jensen was silent, pressing the back of his head against the wall. It made a soft thud. He repeated the process again. And again.

“Jensen…”

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “I’m so damn tired. We fight and fight and fight. We protect a bunch of people who couldn’t care less about our existence. And then we lose the people who do. I’m…” He closed his eyes. More tears fell. “I’m so tired, Jorund. I just want it to stop. I want to stop feeling like this.”

Jorund was silent, listening the whole time. They had been completely oblivious to how dark a hole Jensen had fallen into. He wasn’t just struggling. He was broken.

“It’s not your fault.”

Another choked sob. He wasn’t so sure he believed that. How could it not be? He was their kid. He was trained to be a hero and he should’ve…

“I should’ve protected them. And I can’t live with myself knowing that it’s my fault. I hate…I hate that I’m still here, Jorund. I hate it. I hate…I hate it.”

There were no words that he could say that would undo anything Jensen believed. Not immediately. Right now he just had to remind Jensen of one thing that was true. Jorund wrapped an arm around Jensen, hugging him tight. “It’s not your fault.” He squeezed hard, rubbing his arm.

Jensen was trying to repeat those words. That it was his responsibility. That he should have protected him. And with that guilt came the guilt from their mom. “It was my fault. My responsibility. It was – I should’ve…”

Instead of shutting him up and letting him get lost in his head, Jorund reminded him, “It’s not.” He repeated those words every time Jensen needed to hear it. There was no denying that he had been a piss-poor brother before, but he refused to stay like that now. He was going to be there for Jensen.

“It’s not your fault.”

Cause I am doing the best I can with everything I am Don't you know nobody's perfect Do you understand how hard I'm trying for you I am doing the best I can with everything I am Don't you know I think you're worth it Do you understand how hard I'm trying to do the best I can The best I can The best I can The best I can

They had such a long…long way to go. A long way for Jensen to realize he was still learning. That not everything was his fault. That he didn’t need to carry every burden. It seemed being raised by heroes had given him a sense of responsibility and guilt that no human or Asgardian could bare. Not with the ability to stay sane as well.

“Breathe,” he whispered, knowing very well Jensen had started crying again. “Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.” He held him tight, evening his breath. He noticed when Jensen’s started to match his own. “Good. That’s good. You’re doing the best you can, Jensen. And that’s enough.”

“It can’t be.”

“It is.” Jorund knew it was hard to hear. Especially for a perfectionist like Jensen. “And I promise that none of this is your fault.” And I'm doing, oh I'm doing the best I can I am, I'm doing the best, oh the best I can The best I can, oh the best I can Oh I keep doing, keep trying

Another hour had passed and Jensen had drifted to sleep. Jorund was sitting on the floor, by the bed, just in case. He glanced at the nightstand, seeing the photo Jensen had there. It was of him and his parents. Tear stained and faded. How much pain had Jensen been hiding away?

How much did he still have to work through?

Jorund looked over his shoulder. Jensen was mumbling in his sleep, but there were no tears. No screaming. He sighed softly, shifting his weight before his butt could fall asleep. His fingers brushed against something fluffy under the bed. He frowned, reaching for it.

Pulling it out from under the bed, he was surprised to see a teddy bear. Faded and worn, used so much that its limbs looked ready to fall apart. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while. Jorund sighed, tucking it under the covers and Jensen’s arm. Maybe it would cheer him up.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to make himself comfortable on the floor. He knew it would take a lot of reminding, but he didn’t mind. He had no problem being the person to give Jensen a mantra to make it through the day.

It’s not your fault. You’re doing the best you can.

Hope you like it?

#marvel au #marvel kids #marvel kiddos #mavel #mcu #jensen barton #jorund lokisson #oc brothers #marvel ocs

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years

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Another day of quarantine, another attempt to decipher the secret to one show’s mind-boggling longevity - Are they casting spells on every airdate? Do they have some kind of talisman? Did they make an actual deal with a literal devil to stay on the air this long?? The fact that Jensen Ackles has barely aged a day sure suggests they might have. It’s Supernatural!

I think one of my favorite things so far has been the trailer that plays at the end of “Crossroad Blues” to really make sure you tune into the next episode which...did not play for two weeks. Looking at air dates, “Crossroad Blues” plays on Nov 16, 2006, so that’s right around the Thanksgiving break. Then they come back for ONE episode on Dec 7 and that is their midseason finale. TV programming is wild.

I was like, really into this Bobby Johnson, like...I was into that.

It’s very possible that at this point in the season, SPN is trying real hard to keep their audience. Looking at the numbers for all the episodes leading up to “Croatoan”, they’re only averaging between 3 and 4 million viewers, roughly 1 - 2 million less than where they were at this time in season 1, so it’s easy to see why SPN was on the hook for renewal in season 2. Looking over its ratings for the rest of the season, the audience numbers just keep going down. The show is the number 8 highest rated show on the CW in 2006/07, so technically in the top 10, but it’s tied with Reba and One Tree Hill and the CW only had (16) original programs that year, so it’s not boasting much. These numbers supposedly include Live + 7 day DVR watches, so those numbers really are not good, BUT: starting in January of 2007, the CW started releasing episodes online the day after they aired, so I’m willing to bet that large portions of their audience were still tuning in, just not tuning in in a way that could be tabulated by Neilsen at the time.

It’s also interesting to note that for both season 1 and season 2, the real mythos/lore/arc episodes don’t really start until the midseason. In season 1, it’s not until episode 10, “Scarecrow,” where we’re introduced to Meg and the bigger stakes at hand for the Winchesters. Their search for their father starts ramping up and the show starts subtly shifting away from Finding Dad to Fighting The Boss Fight.

Season 2 is pretty similar. Up until “Croatoan” (episode 9), the show has been about the fallout from John’s death. Finding the yellow-eyed-demon is certainly a driving factor, but it’s very much on the backburner. The show even makes a point to say, hey! Our guys don’t really have any leads, so it’s gonna take a while before we get back to this.

I actually really appreciate that the show takes this much time to let the Winchester process their grief. Kripke and Co. have said numerous times that they realized the episodes that work best are the ones that really dig into the emotional journeys of the characters, so they just went ahead and made that the primary focus of the first half of the season. It gives weight to their loss at the beginning of the season - John’s death is not some throwaway plot point, it’s a real gut punch that our characters aren’t going to get over in a hurry. It also lends weight to the danger the brothers face in the future - John died immediately, who’s to say that won’t happen to Sam or Dean?

I mean, sure buddy, but also...no one here is okay.

Not to mention, John’s deal with the yellow-eyed-demon (+ the events in “Crossroad Blues”) give us a subtle/not-so-subtle hint as to what’s waiting for us at the end of season 2. But we’re not there yet.

Then we’re in “Croatoan” and reminded in full force what our guys are supposed to be fighting this season - not their crippling grief but rather a very present threat to their physical and spiritual well-being. That’s not to say we haven’t had a taste of the Sam-centric plotline that appears in “Croatoan”. BUT I’d argue that even though “Simon Said” deals with the Psychic Children, it’s still only a tease for what those children are capable of. “Croatoan” really drives home the threat from the yellow-eyed-demon, not just from his Psychic Children but also whatever nefarious plans that he’s been cooking for however-long. And it puts this threat front and center as a main quest for the back 13 of the season.

Because of COURSE demon viruses come with their own dusting of sulfur.

Doing the math on this, it looks like SPN had a Front 9/Back 13 split? As in, they got picked up for the first 9 episodes of season 2 but weren’t sure they were going to get those final 13 episodes and that is...crazy? I have not seen any proof this is the case, but it is something to consider for a show that was on the edge of cancellation for this season and last season. It’s possible that the CW was treating all of its programming like they were pilot seasons since this was, essentially, CW’s pilot season, but again - I have no evidence other than this 9/13 split to prove it.

Back to the show. Let me just say: I LOVE “Croatoan.” Any time anyone wants to make up a supernatural reason for an obscure historical mystery, I am ON. BOARD. And the Lost Colony of Roanoke is definitely one of my favorites. I STILL love this episode even though I can hear my friend whispering through the decades, ”The colonists just intermarried with the local native tribe, the Croatoans…” which is apparently actually the answer in real life. But demon viruses are fine, and particularly relevant in The Year of Our Troubles 2020.

CROATOAAAAAAAAA!!!

What also works in “Croatoan” is the dynamics between the brothers that will play out for the rest of the season/series. The groundwork for their big fight at the end of this episode has already been laid in the beginning of the season. On the one hand, you have Dean, who’s lost so much at the hands of the yellow-eyed-demon he can’t stand to lose anymore, especially not his brother. On the other hand, Sam is becoming more like his father - ready and willing to sacrifice whatever needs to be sacrificed to defeat this thing, even if that means giving up his own life. Sam has the same motivation that Dean has but coming from a completely different direction. If his death will save his brother, then he’ll do it, no questions asked, just like John died to save Dean. Neither of the brothers are willing to lose the other and they will go on to make increasingly stupid, selfish decisions to make sure they won’t have to. Yes, I love this show, and I love Sam and Dean, but man they are DUMB BABIES.

OOF.

So we get “Croatoan,” where we see the stakes at hand - the yellow-eyed-demon is out for World Destruction, not just Winchester Destruction. He may have plans for the Psychic Children, but his plans reach far beyond a bunch of 20YO with wacky powers. And when Sam gets infected with the demon virus (LOL, sulfur in the blood?????), he knows he’s a danger to others and is immediately ready to sacrifice his life to keep those around him safe. Dean goes on to prove that this is a line too far - he’ll keep others safe but if the choice is between killing his brother and anything else, he will literally choose anything else. Sam turns out to be fine in a mysterious kind of way, although the town clearly is not, and the boys ride off into the sunset. Then we get the cliffhanger - John told Dean something important that we will not find out until January.

These dolly shots crack me right up.

If you’re watching this in real time, you wait a month for that cliff hanger to resolve itself in “Hunted”. If you are living in the era of streaming, you just skip the closing credits to find out what John said - “He said that I [Dean] had to save you...and that if I couldn't, I'd . . .That I'd have to kill you.”

Are you ever just like, What the actual F*CK, John Winchester?

This is literally Dean’s worst nightmare - having to choose between duty and family. Sam understandably doesn’t take this well to start with, but like in “Croatoan”, he ultimately settles into the idea, which is...deeply upsetting???

“Hunted” does a lot of fun things -

Number 1: We get more of the Psychic Children (because I REFUSE to call them the Special Children, sorrynotsorry). We see that there’s a range of Types, from Scott who definitely looks like a serial killer to Ava, who ultimately goes on to be the headmistress at a secret magic university (OMG, DO watch The Order cuz that shiz is GOLD.)

Seriously, if you liked Supernatural, you will like this show.

Number 2: We get the return of Gordon, this time as a head-on antagonist. Do I like Gordon? No, I find him frustrating at best. But do I LOVE Gordon as an antagonist? Absolutely! He is smart, capable, and (at this point) wholly non-supernatural, Natural, if you will. He’s such a good foil to Sam and Dean and he’s the perfect villain for this moment. He sees the world in only black and white. To him, there’s no moral dilemma as to whether or not the Psychic Children are good or bad - they’re definitely bad and he’s here to stop/kill them. I think he’s an important catalyst for Dean too, since in both of Gordon’s episodes, Dean sees what he could be if it wasn’t for Sam’s influence. He doesn’t want to be like Gordon, so he needs to keep Sam around.

Number 3: Alright, this one isn’t so fun just cuz the final scene is a little sloppy, but Ava turns out to be a good catalyst for Sam. When Ava shows up on screen, she is clearly on Team Cool Kid. She’s totally normal, very Apple Pie, but she shows up to try and save Sam’s life simply because it’s a life that she can (hypothetically) save. She knows nothing about demons or curses or Chosen Ones, she just had a weird dream that gave her a weird feeling and then she acted on out of the goodness of her heart. It’s exactly what Sam does when his dreams kick it into high gear in season 1 (with mixed results). Sam hangs out with Ava, gets to know her, gives her the whole Truth is Out There speech and when she leaves, I actually really appreciate this character. She’s had a wild ride of a day and she is just taking this whole thing totally in stride. Good on you, Ava!

Except, when we get to the end of the episode and Sam tries to check in on her, we find her fiancé with his throat cut, sulfur on the window sill, and Ava nowhere to be seen. Now I don’t remember what I thought the first time I saw this episode, but I don’t believe that Ava killedher fiancé. The show really seems to want me to believe that she killed her fiancé, though, indicating that no matter how cool she was at the beginning of the episode, it’s only a matter of time before all the Psychic Children “go darkside”, as Sam so strangely puts it.

Anyone else this this was a weird line? I thought this was a weird line.

And this is what pushes Sam’s arc through the rest of the season. Our next episode is “Playthings,” which feels like a monster-of-the-week episode where they squeeze in some unrelated emotional drama. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun episode, but SPN is usually better about tying their MotW eps into the emotional character arcs and this one is not as finessed. There’s a little more disconnect here. The important takeaway from “Playthings” is this: seeing Ava “kill” her fiancé convinces Sam that his father was right. Sam may need to be put down, and if that happens, he wants Dean to be the one to do it. Dean agrees, but we all know that he’s doing that just to appease Sam and that he’s still gonna do whatever it takes to save Sam, no matter the cost. Nothing gets resolved and this will definitely come back later.

I mean, yeah that’s probably true.

Some things -

First off: Sam seems to be perfectly OK with this and that...is not OK.

Secondly, SAM?!? WHY would you put that on your brother??

Thirdly, DEAN! Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.

FINALLY, and maybe most importantly, this is the best example I can think of to showcase a character’s greatest strength also being their greatest weakness. The Winchesters are about two things - fighting evil and taking care of family. Done in equal measure, these strengths make them heroic tropes. Taken to extreme situations? Well, now you have two humans wide open to failing at one of these things so bad that the apocalypse literally starts.

What these three episodes remind us, honestly what this whole season so far reminds us, is that Supernatural works because of relationships. The monsters and the mythology and the classic rock are there as a fun framework to get us interested in the show, but it’s the characters that keep us. That’s what viewers connect to. I really appreciate the arguments that Sam and Dean have with each other, starting at the end of season one and up until now in season 2. They feel very deeply rooted in character, not contrived for the sake of Drama. Neither of them is wrong, per se, but then neither of them is right, either. Their emotional backgrounds feel complex and grounded, foundations for real characters, not just the caricatures that you’d expect from a show about ghosts on a network aimed at the 18 - 24 demographic.

See, THIS is the sort of fight you’d expect, not a fight where one brother is begging the other to literally kill him.

And this is gonna be the hill that I’ll die on - characters and relationships are always the heart of any successful franchise. I mean, why else are there so many shipping wars out there? Why write fic if it isn’t to explore relationships and aspects of a character that the show doesn’t present? Sure it’s not the only reason to write fic, but I’d argue it’s a BIG reason.

Because it’s not just the characters building relationships with each other, it's the audience building relationships with those characters (and to a lesser extent, with the world of the story). This is the core of any show that hopes to make it past season one and beyond, no matter the decade, the network, or the platform it airs on. We like stories about people with problems we can relate to. Dysfunctional family trouble? Check. Drama at work? Been there. Feeling like the world’s about to end any second? Oh yes. You can feel those problems deep down in your gut, even if the specifics are different. It doesn’t matter if those people are working in an office or a hospital or hunting down demons in the dead of night. If you can show us people, real people with something we can relate to on a gut level, that’s how you stay on the air for 15 seasons.

#SPN #Supernatural #Supernatural season 2 #Supernatural rewatch #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Crossroad Blues #Croatoan #Hunted #Playthings #CW #TV #TV History #TV Structure #Are you ever just like #What the Actual F*ck John Winchester

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thedangelos · 4 years

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one more year | the whole crew

scotia -> charlie

Scotia can smell the wine on Charlie’s breath and even as they stumble on the uneven sidewalk, it makes him chuckle.

“We’re a block from the car at best, Charlie, are you going to make it?” He teases his boyfriend, tightening his grip on the arm Charlie has around his shoulders.

Charlie retorts something about being perfectly functional all while leaning more into the older man for support and Scotia snickers. He thinks that perhaps Charlie shouldn’t be so endearing to him this way, hammered on the night he’s turned 37, but Scotia can’t help it. This spirit is what he fell for in the first place.

Charlie gives him a look and Scotia immediately knows what’s about to happen. His hands come up to Charlie’s cheeks the moment Charlie turns towards him and just a moment later he’s kissed deeply. It’s sloppy and tastes like pinot noir but laughter bubbles in Scotia’s throat anyway as his back presses against the storefront they were passing.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” He mumbles between their lips, to which Charlie slurs back, “Crazy in love. With you.”

The happiness on Scotia’s lips is smothered with kisses and he thinks to himself, this man is going to keep him young till the very moment he dies. He inhales through his nose so he doesn’t have to break apart from Charlie and indulges the more inebriated man in a form of affection they otherwise wouldn’t have on the streets.

It’s only when their kisses slow and their noses are touching slightly so they can catch their breath that Charlie speaks again, sounding more sober than he has in hours.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“What is it, Charlie?”

“Don’t let Dex plan my parties anymore. I might be getting a little too old for this...”

And Scotia erupts into a complete laugh. “Alright, next year’s on me. Now, let’s go home.”

chris -> will (spy au)

Like any casual Tuesday between them, they’re huddled together, cold, dirty, exhausted and alone. They’ve been hiding out in the very abandoned warehouse where they took shelter hours ago from the Polish mob, trying to find a clearing to escape several times with no avail. And with HQ failing to respond to their extraction calls, it’s become apparent that they’re going to have to get themselves out of this one.

Being still and quiet is pertinent to surviving, so Will raises a brow quite high when he sees Chris rustling through his utilities. His hiss of an inquiry of, “What are you doing?” goes unanswered and he’s left to simply watch Chris unwrap one of his rations before pulling a match from a different pocket.

“Almost forgot,” Chris grumbles as he strikes the match against the sole of his boot and digs it into the ration.

Realization begins to dawn upon Will just as Chris smirks at him, “Happy birthday-”

“Are you completely insane?”

“Completely, yeah,” Chris’s lips grow into a grin. “Come on after all this shit at least acknowledge that you made it one more year to here, hm?”

Will looks into those blue eyes and as they reflect the dull glow of the match, he can remember all the times in their youth when Chris had surprised him. Bought him silly little snacks with candles in them, insisting on celebrating that he was alive and a blessing to him.

“You’re my best friend,” Will could hear the echo of Chris’s voice now from a version of him long gone, “And I’m going to make a big deal of this if I want to.”

He watches Chris wait with bated breath for his partner to accept the gesture of the best version of affection that he could put forth. It’s only after a beat that Will supposes he it would be alright to lean over this one time and blow the match out.

And instantly Chris’s lips are on Will’s, devouring them slowly and painstakingly as they do, blindly no matter where they find themselves on this earth.

“I love you,” Chris whispers huskily between them, and Will hates how much those simple words tug at him, how much they remove him from their current situation. “If we die out here, just remember that I went out loving you, hm?”

callum -> emma

Callum rearranges the candlesticks on the dinner table at least four times before he hears the keys in the door. He flattens a palm over the white table cloth he’d bought for the occasion before glancing at Banjo, who is donning an elegant tuxedo ensemble- also purchased for the night.

“Showtime, girl,” Callum tells the dog, giving her a scratch behind the ears before moving towards the now opening door.

“Hey,” is the greeting Callum musters, and he kicks himself for it just a little. He’d spent hours being precise and careful over dinner, over decor, and over the general set up but hey is all he manages when he’s actually faced with his beautiful girlfriend. It’s his saving grace to know by now that she finds every bit of him charming, even the parts he sees as flaws himself.

She’s quick to notice the mood lighting, the smell of food, and especially, her dog and her laughter alone is enough to make Callum feel like each bit of his efforts were worth it. To be rewarded with a kiss is only a bonus and Callum hums into it, one arm wrapping around her back as his fingers find her hair.

She has to know by now that kissing him this way puts him in a one-track state of mind. That he could have planned a hundred things for her but the moment she traces her palm flat down his chest so, he will only be capable of thinking about taking her out of her clothes and laying her on any surface in the apartment that he can.

“Emma- dinner-” he tries to insist once, but he’s met between their lips with a brisk, “Will still be there in a few minutes.”

“A few minutes?” he raises a sharp brow, and she has to know he can’t resist being provoked like that.

Emma grins at him and just like the first day they ever met, Callum loses himself in it.

lyla -> nils

Lyla has an itinerary. She’ll start with breakfast in bed for Nils at 9 am; then they’ll go to the new digital art museum in town at 11 am; lunch at his favorite pâtisserie at 1 pm; a walk down the annual street fair near their dads’ house- the one with the stall of shirts Nils really likes- at 3:30 pm; a paint and sip except they have to work together on their painting, at 5 pm; dinner reservations at 7:30 pm, and finally a walk in the park at 9:30 pm.

That last part is the important one. Lyla links her arm into Nils’s elbow as they walk slowly, taking in the familiar views before she sits them down by a trickling and illuminated water fountain. She asks him if he had a good day, to which he kisses her forehead and answers that of course, he did. There’s no one else he would rather have gone on so many birthday adventures with.

Lyla grins. She parts her lips to begin the small speech she prepared for this very moment but is interrupted by the buzz of Nils’s phone. They had always been good at disregarding their phones in favor of time for each other- that is until they had a child.

Now, Nils answers his phone readily in the middle of their lovely evening and Lyla is grateful.

“Hi there, is everything okay?” Lyla watches her husband speak to their sitter with a smile curling at the corner of her lips at his confident tone. “Is that Nova I hear back there? It’s a bit past her bedtime, isn’t it? ...Oh, I see.”

Nils lowers his phone so he can put it on speaker and tells his wife in a whisper, “She wants to say good night.”

And Lyla’s heart warms. “Hi, baby,” she coos easily to her three-year-old as Nils echoes a similar greeting. The sound of Nova Ëklund-D’Angelo’s voice brings forth a smile and a tenderness in the two adults that they never thought was possible before. That they would do anything for the little girl in their lives is apparent from the kisses they blow her through the phone and the promises they make of how much they love her and how excited they are to see her again in the morning.

By the time they hang up, Lyla doesn’t care for speeches anymore. She doesn’t care that she’d all but rehearsed the best way to present her idea, or that she had some pretty solid points. She simply takes Nils’s hand as soon as he puts his phone away, looks into his eyes with the unequivocal love of one half of his soul, and tells him, “Let’s have another baby, Nils. I’m ready.”

bristol -> sven

Bristol traces the letters on Sven’s chest. It’s only been a handful of months since the skin has healed but Bristol can hardly remember a time before he could run his gentle touch over the ink in their most vulnerable moments.

His finger rises and falls with the older man’s breaths, ones he’s still trying to catch after the evening they’ve spent entangled together, isolated in their bedroom despite the many invitations they had received to more luxurious celebrations.

“What are you thinking?” Sven breaks the silence between them, fingers traveling through Bristol’s salt and pepper locks.

The younger man doesn’t answer right away. Instead he lifts his nose from the crook of his husband’s neck and leaves light kisses along his jaw. He watches Sven shift to lean more into him and it’s only when his heart flutters to feel that Sven wants him even now, that he speaks.

“I’m so happy, Sven. I’ve never been so happy in my life,” he hums quietly, his sharp blue eyes wandering up to meet the other pair. “I could die right now and that would be perfectly alright with me.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be alright with me,” Sven says almost warningly. He kisses the beginnings of a smirk from Bristol’s mouth and leans up on an elbow to hover over the man he married so surely, so long ago.

“Sven Vogel, you romantic,” Bristol purrs under Sven’s lips, but the older man doesn’t respond. He braces his body over Bristol’s with an intensity they’re both accustomed to by now, a possessive hold that they’ve both thrived in for 10 years and will continue to thrive in for nearly 10 more.

jensen -> august

It starts with a phone call six months prior to August’s 28th birthday.

“Hi, uncle Milo. If you had a minute, I wanted to talk to you about the family vacation this year. Namely the time and location. Hear me out, I’ve got a good reason.”

On the day of, it isn’t easy to keep a straight face when just about every Ëklund in the house knows what Jensen has planned, but it is easy to convince August to get away with just him for the evening. After all, they’d been talking about taking a trip like this since the day they met.

So they stand together at the outskirts of August’s hometown of Kiruna, peering up towards the most beautiful sight either has seen in nature, perhaps besides each other. August leans into the arm around his shoulders even if Jensen is trembling slightly. He plays back with Jensen’s restless fingers as the blue-green lights flicker along their strong features and smiles when a kiss is pressed to his hair, not for the first time. When he finally looks beside himself to see if Jensen is enjoying himself he finds his boyfriend gazing only at him.

“You’re missing the good part,” August teases, pointing towards the sky, though he is grinning at the notion that Jensen would rather spend this time looking at him than the seventh wonder of the world.

Jensen just shakes his head and drops a kiss to August’s cheekbone before he pulls back entirely. He answers August’s raised brow with a gesture that he needs both hands to zip up his coat and August lets his boyfriend be.

He looks back up, expecting to feel Jensen’s arm come back around him in due time. But it doesn’t and instead, he hears Jensen’s voice from a slight distance.

“Every part is the good part when it’s with you, August,” Jensen speaks through a deep breath and when August turns to look at him, the younger man has one knee in the snow. The majestic Northern Lights reflect off the object in Jensen’s hand and he continues, “I thought I was complete before but you’ve changed everything from the very first day we met. You’ve made every second we’ve had together a new adventure and I decided a long time ago that I never want it to stop. So August Ëklund, will you make the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

Jensen dashes off the ground the moment he’s done, laughter bubbling on his lips as his arms come around August. “Can’t wait for your answer, sorry. It’s freezing down there!”

For as nervous as he’d been leading up to the moment, Jensen hugs August close to his body now, kissing his face adoringly, knowing full well what their future holds.

bristol -> linus

It should have been expected that they would end up in such a position after a month and a half apart. Long distance was a bitch- especially long distance with someone that had the touch of a blazing wildfire.

The celebratory hike was Bristol’s idea but the kisses they shared at the summit were Linus’s. Linus’s idea to slip his cold hands under the other man’s shirt and Bristol’s to press his lips to the crook of Linus’s neck to keep from crying out.

It was Linus that pulled them among the orange and yellow leafed trees, but Bristol that tugged at their jeans. Bristol who shivered as he was exposed but Linus who covered Bristol’s back with his chest.

Bristol gripped tightly at the tree first, not caring for the bark that dug into his skin, especially when Linus’s palms came over the backs of his own. Bristol was the one to turn his chin back and bruise Linus’s lips but Linus was the one to use those lips to drop a dark red sign of possession on Bristol’s shoulder.

It was Bristol’s decision to reach back and hold his partner around the back of the neck as he felt his stomach turn. But Linus’s to pick up his pace, loudly so.

Bristol cursed while Linus said the other’s name and their hips stuttered in unison. Birds fled from a nearby perch at the height of the two men’s commotion and the only sound following was that of their labored breaths.

Surely one of them could be credited for their utter lack of self control, but honestly, who was keeping track anymore?

dex -> sven

The wind rustling through Dex D’Angelo’s curls in itself is a treat to behold. More than ever, Sven has no regrets about accidentally dropping Dex’s product behind the sink that morning. From the benches on deck, he watches his partner, who appears to be one with the rope between his hands, pulling with a strength that tightens each muscle in his upper arms.

Sven observes the laser focus in those oceanic eyes as Dex changes directions of the sail overhead, and the half-step he takes as it catches the wind. It’s an art, what he does, a muggle one that Sven would have had no appreciation for at one time in his life. But now, to watch Dex command the waters he waited 40 years to return to bristles each sense in him.

Turning back to the more natural views before him, Sven takes a sip from the glass of wine hanging loosely between his fingers. The oaky flavor is one connected to strong memories for him. As it turns out, Dex had passed on his impeccable tastes onto his daughter, who had selected their favorite drink for her engagement party so many moons ago now.

Sven can taste full-bodied berries and the irreversible changing of tides as a pair of knees comes to frame either side of his body. Looking up he sees Dex’s sun-kissed form, making himself comfortable on the back of the bench and the sight is damn near blinding.

“May I?” Dex’s voice is smooth as he lifts the glass away from Sven’s lips. The latter can only pretend to be offended as he leans back into the warmth of his partner. Dex’s arm, slipping around Sven’s collarbones similar to how he himself is often held in bed, makes the older close his eyes to simply lose himself in the moment.

He vaguely hears the sound of Dex setting the wine glass aside before he feels a warmth breath at his ear.

The whisper of “Happy birthday, my love,” sends a shiver down Sven’s spine and he only opens his eyes at the kisses that are peppered to the side of his face.

In a few hours they will return to their fulfilled and bustling lives, full of friends, family, endless projects and engagements but for now they are simply Dex and Sven, together in ways that can never be comprehended by the average person.

It doesn’t matter the cycles of life it took them to reach this destination, just that all is, as it is supposed to be.

#the way i was like which blog do i post this on and immediately was like WELL MOST OF THE BIRTHDAY DRABBLES ARE ON HERE AND CAROL LOVES DEX #THE MOST SO DEX'S PAGE IT IS LMFAO HERE WE GO LET ME JUST GET /ALL/ THE TAGS OUT OF THE WAY FIRST #c: Scotia Fallon #o: Charlie Vogel #scarlie #c: Chris (Spy AU)#o: Will (Spy AU)#yaxmoor (spy au)#c: Callum D'Angelo #o: Emma Vogel #callemma #c: Lyla St.Clair D'Angelo #o: Nils Eklund Vogel #Angelund #c: Bristol Overgaard #o: Sven Vogel #brisven #o: Linus Eklund #overlund #c: Jensen Fallon #o: August Eklund #augsen #c: Dexter D'Angelo #not us having literally 8 ships but like 55 plots at LEAST and that's only the romantic pairings not including all the friendships and #I'm clearly just a sucker for our characters finding themselves in the SAME situations to see how they react differently lol if the to have #and to hold drabbles didn't make that clear enough lmfao #not me writing you a whole heartfelt birthday message in the tags only to find i hit the tag limit and all of it disappeRED #LMAO SEE YOU ON DISCORD WITH THAT SHIT #my writing #carols birthdrabbles

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nellie-elizabeth · 5 years

Text

Supernatural: The Rupture (15x03)

Well... damn?

Cons:

In the first two reviews of this season, I talked a lot about how this season was going to lean really hard into the nostalgia. I had high hopes about the return of some of these characters, and while I did really like this episode, I'm getting a bit concerned. Last week, Kevin showed up only to immediately leave again. This week, after Ketch's close call last week, he's killed off, Rowena dies, and then Belphegor also bites the dust. So a lot of stuff that was just getting set up is suddenly off the table. On the one hand, I like it when things are unpredictable and move at a quick pace. On the other hand, this feels a bit too familiar to me. Supernatural has a pattern. The first three episodes are all A-plot focused, and then we've got to ratchet back the tension so we can do some monster-of-the-week stuff. That's fine, that's expected. But we've already rushed through so many of the things I thought this season was going to focus on, and I have a feeling that the tension and drama is going to drop off. We've only got seventeen precious episodes left! I don't know if it was Rowena or Belphegor or even Ketch's time to go just yet.

Yo... Dean wicked needs to apologize to Cas. That was rough stuff. I loved the angst, don't get me wrong, but I hope Dean is held responsible for his actions. I hope we get a real in-depth look at Dean's anger issues and he realizes that he's the one in the wrong here. This isn't so much a problem with the episode as it is a worry for the future - I hope they do this plot thread justice.

And for my one and only petty complaint - it bothers me that they insist on sticking to their guns with the stupid idea of spelling Castiel's name "Cass." Like... stop. It's wrong. We all know it's wrong.

Pros:

Ketch gets this totally depressing yet oddly bad-ass death where he refuses to turn on the Winchesters even when facing down death. There's a part of me that wants to say it doesn't really matter, because he's done so many terrible things to the boys that this act of sacrifice doesn't redeem him. But maybe redemption isn't the point. Crowley and Rowena both also died to help the Winchesters, and that doesn't erase the harm they've done over the years, but it does show that they're capable of change. If Supernatural has a single unifying thesis statement, it's all about free will. And that means that Sam and Dean fight to make their own choices. But it also means that people don't fit into prescribed roles. Villains can do heroic things, heroes can do villainous things. Ketch can't erase his evil past, but he can do what he can to help the people he believes in, here at the end. I was oddly touched by his loyalty, there in his final moments.

Belphegor... honestly, I wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to him. He was a lot of fun. We got that teaser at the end of Season Fourteen showing Jack with Billie, so we can assume that Alex Calvert isn't gone-gone. But honestly, while I was a little sad to say goodbye to such a fun character so quickly, this was the one subversion of my expectations that I ultimately think was a very smart move. If Belphegor had stuck around, he would have felt like Crowley 2.0 in all the bad ways, instead of just the good ones. By that I mean that he would have been a kind-of-sort-of adversary who would hang around in the background and be available whenever he was needed, to conveniently provide a power-up to a Winchester in need. All of the fun and snark gets sucked out of a character like that pretty quickly, the moment you realize they're not a real threat. This way, we see that he was playing nice for a specific and nearly-achievable goal. Cas stops him, and the price is Rowena's life, and there it ends. That was pretty satisfying.

Rowena. I wish we could have had more time with her. But if she had to die, what a way to go. I mean, I'd be remiss if I did not point out how annoying it is to lose one of the few female characters still remaining on this show. It's annoying. But so many women have died in a way that can only be classified as being "fridged." And this was not that. Yes, Sam is going to have his "man pain" over Rowena's death or whatever, but she made a choice. She sacrificed herself, going against a lifetime of selfishness and an imperative desire to live no matter the cost. And the fact that it had to be at Sam's hands was just the perfect amount of heartbreak.

I seriously adore the way they portrayed Sam and Rowena's relationship. It's not textually romantic, but... it could have been. And there's an open acknowledgment of that. Sam hasn't experienced a lot of tender affection in his life, and you can see from his behavior with any and all of his love interests over the years that it's something he really craves. Rowena was genuinely kind to him, in her own strange way, and that's something Sam is going to miss terribly. It's strange, because on paper this scene plays in to so many story-telling cliches. A man forced to kill his girlfriend for the greater good. But Rowena wasn't Sam's girlfriend. She wasn't there just to be a female character for him to cry over. She was a fully realized character and the decision that she and Sam came together to make was one of great sacrifice and integrity. Rowena was a fantastic and surprising character on this show. She came to mean more to me than I would have expected, and if she had to go, then this was a pretty bad-ass way for it to happen.

We had a nice little moment of Dean checking up on Sam. I like that once again there isn't anything explicit being said here - Dean doesn't say "I know you were kind of maybe in love with her a little bit, so sorry man." He doesn't have to say that. It's implied, and Sam knows that Dean knows, and maybe that's enough. It was a nice little understated moment.

As much as my heart broke for Sam here, let's end this review with the Destiel breakup. Because holy moly oh my God. As I said, I'm not about to get my hopes up about anything like a real reciprocal confirmation. But what they're giving us is just... everything I never knew I needed. There have been plenty of legitimate criticisms over the years that Cas will do anything in the world for Dean, and that Dean doesn't appreciate it, and treats him like a tool to use to solve all of his problems. In this moment, Cas is at the end of his rope. He did his best, but he's grieving for Jack, and his powers aren't working, and Dean doesn't have the time or the inclination to listen to anything he has to say. No wonder he's fed up, no wonder he's heartbroken. No wonder he leaves. I can't wait for Dean to make amends for this. I can't wait for Sam to take him to task for pushing away their best friend.

Everything about the scene - Misha's performance in particular - was just so achingly tragic. It was a break-up. It was Cas saying that for his own mental well-being, he needed to break up with his toxic boyfriend. They even played the sad Supernatural theme as Cas walked away. And I think it's telling that the episode ends on that note. You could have flipped the final two scenes - had Cas leave dramatically, and then end with Dean comforting Sam, telling him that they've succeeded, and commiserating about Rowena. But no - the final beat is Dean standing there, as the camera pulls away and shows him alone in the bunker, with Castiel walking away from him. Jensen's performance was great as well. He's so angry with Cas, and so unwilling to bend. But maybe this will be the moment that he realizes that he takes Cas for granted. That he expects him to always do what Dean says, and be there when he's wanted. I just adore the fact that here, in the final season of this show, the problems in Dean and Cas' relationship are getting a real focus. Even if it doesn't go as far as I would ideally like, it will still be so much fun to explore!

And that's that. What a sad episode of Supernatural! It got me feeling all sorts of feelings, let me tell ya. And my complaints were actually not about this episode in isolation, more about my worries for the middle section of this season. So for that reason, this is getting a pretty high score!

9/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #spn 15x03

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 11

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Talk of nightmares/night terrors, light description of injury, language, I think that’s pretty much it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1777

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been roughly two weeks since Jensen was released from the hospital.

Physically he's doing a lot better.

He gets around pretty good now, normally even. It would be hard for anyone on the street to see that there was ever anything wrong with him when he walked by you. He'd become pretty self-sufficient pretty quickly. The bruises had mostly faded, only leaving the worst ones still a sickening yellow color. Most of the scratches and lacerations on his body had healed or were almost healed. Most of his strength returned to him.

On the outside, he looked fine, but it wasn’t the outside that had become the problem. As much as he tried to hide it. Even though the physical aspect of his attack had almost faded completely, it was the battle of the mind that was beginning now.

When you looked into his eyes something was still dead in there.

You learned pretty quickly that Jensen had a pretty passive-aggressive way of dealing with things. It was just what he hid behind, and you knew that, but still, it didn't lessen your concern for him.

You noticed him drinking more, and you were afraid that would become a very unhealthy coping mechanism.

The nightmares had gotten worse.

To be honest you would have characterized them as night terrors. Except they didn't just happen at night. You had learned just from watching him that these “flashbacks” could be triggered by a sound, or a smell, or even something someone says.

It wasn't something he could control.

He had started to go to his own house during the day some, but at night he always ended up right back with you. You were secretly glad. You didn't like the thought of his nightmares starting, and him beginning there all alone. Most of the time when he had one he’d either wake up violently ill or hysterical, there was no in-between.

He had taken his kids to the local zoo with Jared the other day on one of his visitation days with his kids. Because of his usual nightly problems he thought it was best that they didn't stay the night with him. Not something you really want you kids to see.

He had been back to the studio, using it you think as a distraction. That's not uncommon though, people use music all the time as an escape from reality.

The only good thing that had happened really over the past two weeks was that you had gotten a contract writing for a local publishing company reviewing transcripts, and technically you could work full time from home now. You did tell Steve and Jensen that you would finish Jensen's project through before you left. You were there when he started it, and you wanted to see the finished product.

This morning started much like all other mornings since Jensen had moved in with you.

You were sitting in the living room drinking your coffee. It was still very, very early. It was the weekend, so neither yourself nor Jensen had to work today. Still, your body is used to waking up so early, it had developed its own alarm clock. Therefore you were up at 5 am regardless of what you did or how late you went to bed.

Jensen was still sleeping soundly in the room the two of you now awkwardly, kinda shared. You were honestly afraid to touch him. Afraid it would trigger one of his flashbacks. So you slept as far away from him as you could in your king-sized bed, usually putting a pillow between the two of you so that you wouldn't accidentally roll over to him in the middle of the night.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be close to him. You wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around you as you slept, but you were pretty sure that he was not capable of doing that. He had told you in the hospital that there were some things that he wouldn't be able to do. Physical contact was one of them.

Not thinking about what you were doing a day after he moved in with you, you walked up behind him when he was standing at the sink and put your hand on his shoulder, throwing him into a violent flashback, that took almost an hour for him to come back from. That’s when you learned touching him probably wasn’t the best idea.

Sometimes he would reach over and grab your hand when the nightmares were really bad, he would let you sit next to him and run your fingers through his hair until he went back to sleep, other than that though that was it.

You were sitting lost in thought, the house pretty much dark, only the light from above the stove lightly lit the room. When your phone lit up next to you. It was Jared.

"Hello?" you say quietly careful not to wake up Jensen.

"Y/N? I didn't wake you did I?" he asked.

"No, I've been up," you tell, him running your hand down your face. Wondering why in the hell he was calling this early.

"Okay listen they caught Jensen's attackers. There were four of them... Plus Jennifer,"

That last part struck you hard.

"Jennifer? Really? Are they sure?" you asked, shock radiating through your body.

"Yeah. She was there through all of it according to her confession. Apparently, she gets her kicks off watching Jensen being raped and tortured, claiming that he owed her that much after what he did to her, when, come to find out the whole thing was a set up from the beginning. She thought she’d go on a date with him, get him drunk, maybe fuck him, get some side cash, and leave, but apparently, things didn't go the way she planned, and she got her family involved to “pay him back” for what the did to her." Jared Said through gritted teeth.

Your stomach churned. You didn't like talking about what they did to Jensen. Your heart just couldn't handle it. Especially seeing the reproductions that he was still dealing with from the whole ordeal.

"Did they all confess?" you asked, hoping and praying Jensen wasn't going to have to testify in front of a room full of strangers plus his attackers.

"Yeah, they all confessed. From what I understand there was so much evidence from the pictures that the hospital had taken, plus the doctor's reports, and DNA evidence that they really had no choice but to confess," he said, sounding just as sick about all of this as you were.

"He's not gonna have to testify will he?" you asked, holding your breath.

"No, not unless he just wants to confront them. Which I doubt he does. These perverts are going to jail for a very long time. The amount of evidence against them is overwhelming, and the police believe this isn't the first time they’ve done this to someone," Jared said.

It made you sick to think about there being monsters like this out there in the real world. People like Jennifer, who you’d never expect to be involved in something like this.

“Thanks for letting me know Jared, now I just have to figure out how to tell Jensen.”

“You can do it Y/N, he trusts you,” Jared said.

With that, the two of you got off the phone. Jensen would be waking up soon as you wanted to have this breakfast ready like you did every morning. You didn't know how you were going to tell him that they had caught his attackers. You hated even bringing up his situation with him. He would get so distant and quiet.

Not fifteen minutes later you heard the bedroom door open and Jensen made his way over to the small bar and sat down. You knew he had because you heard the chair slide across the tile. Your back was to him plating up his breakfast. When you turned around what you saw nearly made you drop the plate.

He was sitting there, pale, and crying silently; looking at his hands that were shaking on the bar. You sat the plate down and carefully walked over to him, surprisingly he reached for you. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him tightly to you. The two of you sat like that for the longest time before he finally spoke.

"I'm not well," was all he said, so quiet that you barely even heard him.

"What hurts? Are you sick?" you asked. Immediately thinking it had something to do with his physical injuries.

"No, not that," he said, then pointed at his head. "I'm not well."

That made your heart sink. This was the first time he’d admitted that he was struggling, even though you knew that he was, and honestly it scared you.

Had he gotten worse?

You had been trying to figure out a good time to bring up seeing a therapist, now seemed like a good time as any.

"Maybe we should make that appointment with that therapist that your doctor suggested to you," you suggested gently, afraid he would get angry.

"Will you come with me?" was all his said, no more fight in him at all.

"Yeah, I'll be there the whole time. Remember what I said in the hospital. We're gonna get through this. You and Me."

Jensen nodded his head and buried his face in your neck, wet tears streaking down his face, and onto your skin made your heart feel like it just wanted to stop beating.

You knew that suggesting a therapist may sound harsh to some people, but there was no manual on how to deal with something like it. No material to read to figure out a normal healing process, especially for man, and there was no way to know that you were doing this right or wrong,

All you could do was make small steps together, in hopes that you were both stumbling in the right direction in getting him better, and right now you had to go with what logically could help him, and maybe someone who was trained to deal with this sort of trauma.

Even though you knew this was probably going to be one of the hardest things Jensen ever had to do, he couldn’t keep all this bottled up, he needed a safe space, and a trained professional to help him.

Squeezing him as tight to you as you could you tried your best to ground him in this mess that he was going through, you promised you’d be right there with him, and you were going to keep that promise, no matter what you’d do it together.

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #dark!fic #hurt!jensen #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #dean winchester #fanfcition #dark fanficiton #jawritter #you and me

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witchymarvelspacecase · 6 years

Text

Touch

Summary: James T. Kirk x Reader ; You’re an officer on the Enterprise. You love your job, and your friends, but there’s one thing you struggle with.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, ends with a bit of fluff.

A/N: I have no GODDAMN clue where this came from, but here it is...

You’d done plenty of frightening things in your life. You’d been through more harrowing situations then should be possible for anyone your age, but despite that, living on the Enterprise topped your list of terror.

It wasn’t the missions that scared you most. No, it was just being on the ship.

It wasn’t that anyone was cruel. They usually weren’t even rude. Somehow, that was the problem.

Being on a ship, even one as large as the Enterprise, for an extended period of time, brought people together; it made the crew into a family. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for most people. Just you.

Your fellow crew members were constantly touching one another. Not in a romantic way, at least not most of the time, but everyone was tactile. With the exception of Spock, who was only tactile with certain crew members, everyone seemed completely comfortable casually brushing up against one another, resting hands on shoulders, or even hugging. Which was a problem for you.

Normally, it wasn't too big of an issue. Your job kept you away from the majority of the crew, and you only had to report to your superior, who was totally okay with you submitting written reports at the end of your shift. You were good at your job, and were never brought up on any disciplinary actions. No one needed to pay you any attention, and you did your best to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, fate intervened.

When the ship was hit during the Romulan attack on Vulcan, several of your teammates were killed. You weren’t the only tactical officer left, but you were the most experienced. You’d been on a ship, and operating the weapons systems longer than the others on board; that left you in charge.

The ship’s weapons had been largely ineffective against the monster ship, and were now non-functioning; your defenses crumbling. Communication with engineering was spotty as much of the ship still had to be assessed, but so much of your system was offline that the Enterprise, and everyone on board, was a sitting duck.

A quick, and probably rash, decision had you sending a message to the helmsman and sprinting in the direction of the shield generator. You knew enough about the system that if it wasn’t too physically damaged, you hoped you could get it functioning again. And after what felt like hours, you did get it working; if only a little.

Engineering was still out of contact, so your next stop was ship’s phaser banks. 2 banks out of the 6 were completely out of commission, and you were only able to force 3 out of the remaining 4 to cooperate; half was better than none at least. The photon torpedoes were unreachable from your position, and though engineering would be able to get to them, you weren’t optimistic.

“Deflector shield generator is functional, but needs to recharge completely, and is only working at 60%. 3 of the 6 phase banks are operational again” you relayed into the com as soon as you reached your station again.

“Who is this?” Came Spock’s reply. Not what you were expecting.

“Lieutenant L/N, sir,” you replied.

“Where is Lieutenant Commander Jensen?”

“Dead, sir. There are only a handful of us left.” A pause followed that comment. Using the break, you sent the few tactical officers left out to stay by the phaser banks and generator, with brief instructions on basic repair. There weren’t many tactical officers left, but the weapons and defenses needed to stay operational.

Vulcan was gone. Captain Pike was a hostage. And last you’d heard, your friend, Jim Kirk had been forced off the ship.

“What is the status of the torpedoes?” the helmsman asked, breaking the silence.

“I was not able to access them, but I am not gonna hold out hope that they’re operational in any way,” you said.

“Wait, you accessed them?” A third voice asked, sounding incredulous.

“Engineering is already overwhelmed, and I know how to run the systems, sir.” That seemed like an odd thing to surprise an officer. Or maybe it wasn’t. The first Chief Tactical Officer you’d worked under had made a point of making sure you could run the systems in your sleep. He’d expected you to be able to fix something if a problem arose, so you figured it out.

On top of studying ship weapons and defenses, and battle tactics, you’d had you nose in engineering texts and had sat in on more than a few lectures. You had thought that was normal, though Commander Jensen hadn’t been as demanding as your first CTO.

“Lieutenant, report to the bridge,” Spock ordered and ended the transmission.

“What?!” You thought in a panic. It made no sense to call you to the bridge. Perhaps what you’d done was odd. Nevertheless, you made your way, as quickly as possible, up to the bridge.

Though when you arrived on the bridge, another drama was already underway. Seemed that Kirk had found a way back onto the ship. You hadn’t thought that was possible, but the man who’d arrived with Kirk was apparently capable of it. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested to hear more about him, but before you could ask anything of anyone, Spock had Kirk by the throat.

You had almost jumped in to help, not thinking. But Spock’s father stepped in instead. You were a little shaken. You didn’t initiate contact, with anyone, for any reason, but when you’d seen Kirk in trouble, for some reason you hadn't thought. Shaking your head to clear it, you realized that Dr. McCoy was talking.

“-no captan and no goddamn first officer to replace him.”

“Yeah we do,” Kirk panted, his breathing still rough as he sat in the captain’s chair. You felt like you were missing some information.

“Pike made him first officer,” the helmsman, Sulu said, gesturing at Kirk. Your eyes widened. Yep, there was a lot you were missing.

Everyone slowly settled back into their stations, and Kirk made an announcement over the PA. You were heading after the monster ship. Of course you were, you sighed.

“Y/N, what are you doing up here?” Kirk asked. When you looked over at him, he was watching you with a quizzical look.

“I don’t really know, I was called up here,” you shrugged, then belatedly added, “sir.” Not used to thinking of James Kirk as an officer, let alone your superior.

Kirk waved the “sir” away. And Sulu spoke up. “Spock called her up here. She fixed the phasers and shield generators. By herself.”

Kirk’s eyes widened as he turned from Sulu, to face you again. A smile growing on his face.

That was how you’d become CTO of the Enterprise.

The position wasn’t bad, but suddenly, you were in contact with many more people. Not just all the officers you commanded, but Sulu, and Scotty, the chief engineer, as well.

Add on the fact that Kirk knew you, and you were becoming a regular fixture on the bridge. That made you incredibly uncomfortable.

You’d met Kirk in academy. The two of you had been on different tracks, and you had arrived long before Kirk did, but his aptitude had him placed in several of the same courses as you. He’d been a menace from day one, but though you would like to say you would have preferred he leave you alone, that would have been a lie. Your life may have been easier without him, but it would have been much more boring as well. You definitely wouldn’t have laughed, or smiled as much.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t actually enjoy spending time with the bridge crew, because you did. What you didn’t enjoy, was the confused, and almost hurt looks on their faces when you would shy away from even an incidental touch. The looks hurt, especially when they were on Jim’s face. So you began to distance yourself.

If called upon, you would send one of your officers in your place, claiming you were busy. The officers were usually happy to have a reason to visit the bridge and spend even a little time with the captain, and you got to stay in your safe place.

When you’d been in academy, your touch aversion wasn’t as acute as it was on the Enterprise. You’d been able to accept light, brushing touches from a select few people then. James Kirk had been one of the few.

You’d been assigned to a ship and deployed before he was finished with academy, before the Nerada. As a result, Kirk wasn’t around for the incident that had set your touch aversion back so far.

You did your best to muddle through. You couldn’t let the discomfort, the fear, control your life. Though you minimized contact with other crew where you could, you couldn’t do that everywhere. You almost bit your tongue off in order to get through the contact required for the medical examinations, knowing that if you didn’t comply, you could be forced to leave the ship. You could tell that Dr. McCoy noticed your discomfort, but he never asked, and you didn’t volunteer any information.

The one person you did talk to, oddly enough, was Spock.

...

“I have noticed that you have been avoiding the Captain lately,” Spock said, in what passed for a conversational tone as you entered the turbo lift one day. He had already been on, presumably on his way down from the bridge to a lower deck. For part of a second, you thought about turning around and taking another route down to your station, but you weren't that much of a coward.

“I’m not avoiding the Captain,” you hedged.

“Perhaps not the Captain in particular, but you do avoid the bridge. Why?” Spock asked with a slight head tilt.

“It’s not a big deal.” You really hoped that the Vulcan would let this go.

“Your behavior indicates otherwise.” Did he just give you the eyebrow raise? You’d only seen Jim get those before.

Despite part of your brain wanting to comment on The Brow, you looked down. What Spock was asking about was dangerously close to a conversation you’d hoped not to have, with anyone.

“You appear uncomfortable,” Spock observed.

“I am,” you sighed, “What you are saying isn't wrong, I just… I don’t like talking about it.”

“About your avoiding the bridge?” That was definitely an eyebrow raise. If you weren’t so fucking uncomfortable, you would have said something, but you were too busy panicking.

“I don’t- I’m not avoiding the bridge. I’m avoiding the people on it.” For you, there was a difference between the two, though it didn’t make much sense when you said it.

“I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“Everyone’s so… close on the bridge,” you said, hoping that was enough, but Spock continued to watch you, clearly expecting more of an explanation. “Everyone is touching.”

Spock looked confused, but he still didn’t speak, so you continued.

“I’m not good with touch. I don't- I really don’t like the pity that comes along with explaining why I don't like touch, so I don’t talk about it.” Your words came out quickly, and in a jumble, as if they were forcing their way out.

“I see,” he said finally, “in an effort to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, you are choosing to avoid contact entirely.”

“It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that,” you grumbled, feeling like an idiot.

“How else could I have phrased it?” Spock asked.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, looking down. “Look, I just don’t want to have this conversation with the Captain, okay?”

“I believe I understand your reasons, but the Captain is - upset by your absence. I believe he thinks you are avoiding him,” Spock said as the lift doors opened. “It is not my place to say, but I do not believe he aims to make you uncomfortable. I believe it would be wise for you to speak with him.” Spock walked away then, leaving you alone in the lift as it descended to your destination.

It had been years since the incident, but you still couldn’t handle being touched. Most days, you were just frustrated by it, though some days you hated yourself for it. As you stewed in what Spock had said, you hated everything.

You didn’t go to Jim right away, though a part of you wanted to. He was your friend, and you didn’t like thinking that you were hurting him, but you needed to get yourself straightened out.

You went to the ship’s counselor. You told them what had happened, explained your problems, and then asked for help.

It was embarrassing. You hated talking about all the shit that had gone into making you the way you were. No amount of assurance that the meetings were confidential, or empathetic responses from the counselor made that any easier. Sharing your past sucked.

You met with the counselor several times. A few meetings you had to reschedule because you just couldn’t talk about anything that day. Sometimes you’d burst into tears. Sometimes you’d raged and yelled. But as you continued to meet with the counselor, the emotions leveled out. The feelings were all still there, the memories still painful, but they didn’t bring you to your knees anymore. Their weight wasn’t unbearable.

The counselor encouraged you to try initiating touch. To find someone you trusted, and make the attempt, but to be patient with yourself if you still struggled.

So you tried.

...

You called Jim when you knew he’d be in his quarters. You wanted to talk to him, but you didn’t want everyone to wonder why.

Bare moments after calling him, he appeared outside your quarters.

“He-hey. Um, what’s goin’ on?” Jim asked, looking unsure. That wasn’t a look you saw on him often. Most of the time, even if he wasn’t sure of something, he would bullshit his way through, faking a confidence that fooled almost everyone. Seeing him unsure made you feel… odd. Though you were the one opening up, you sort of felt like you should reassure him.

“Hey,” you replied, stepping back and waving Jim inside. “It’s- I just wanna talk.”

He nodded slightly as he walked past you to sit on the small sofa in your room. You sat on the other end of the sofa. He turned to face you, one leg bent, and resting on the sofa cushion, one foot on the floor; you kept both feet on the floor, not able to make eye contact.

“So, I- I haven’t been on the bridge much lately,” you started. You saw Jim nod out of the corner of your eye. “I need- I want to talk to you about it.”

“Okay, I’m here.” You gave a little smile, glancing over at him for a moment.

“First off, I’m not avoiding you. I’m not avoiding anyone.” You could see a large amount of the tension in Jim’s shoulders release then. “I’m just,” you paused, your words caught. You cleared your throat. “I- uh. I have a touch aversion,” you said, scowling at yourself. You’d written a speech, but for some reason, it all went out the window.

“Okay, what’s that mean?” Jim asked. His voice was even, nonjudgemental, and that helped. As did the fact that he bothered to ask a question; he was listening.

“I don’t like being touched. Hugs, shoulder squeezes, fuck, high-fives freak me out,” you said on an awkward laugh. “Or, guess, it’s not that I don’t like it. I don’t know if I like it now. I didn’t like it for a long time.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Jim asked. You turned your head, looking at him then. He was leaning towards you, but he hadn’t moved any closer. He was leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. You thought you saw a slight tremor in them.

You took a deep breath. “I didn’t have a good childhood,” you started. That was an understatement, but it was as deep as you were going for the moment “Got hit a lot. So I tended to be uncomfortable with people moving around me. Especially people I didn’t know. I really didn’t like being touched unless I had warning, or if I initiated it.” Your mom hadn’t been around a lot, when she was, she didn’t really care anyway. Her man of the day/week/month was sometimes ok, but other times… well getting slapped wasn’t the worst thing that happened.

The academy had been a godsend for you. You’d escaped your childhood home, and begun to make your own life. You’d been healing even. “I had friends at the academy. People I felt comfortable with. You. I never had a problem with you. But when I left-” you broke off. Looking down and biting back tears.

“When you graduated?” Jim prompted after a minute. He had been fidgeting in his seat. You knew he wanted to move over to you, to offer comfort, to touch you, but he didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to do something.

“Yeah. I, uh- I got called home, before my deployment. My mother was real sick. Like ‘not gonna make it out’ sick. I was her only child, and only living relative, so I kinda had to be there.”

The trauma of your childhood, you’d come to terms with, for the most part you’d been able to work your way through that mess. What came after your mother died was what was the rope still hanging around your neck.

“You know you don’t have to tell me about it,” Jim said softly. “I want to know. I want to help you if I can, but you don’t have to tell me if it hurts you.”

“I know,” you gave him a small smile, though tears were pooling in your eyes, “I know you wont make me. But I think I have to. I have to talk about it. And I want to talk to you.” Uncertainty had you looking in his eyes, and you saw pain there, but you also saw that he still hadn’t moved.

“Okay,” Jim said. “Can I do, anything? I feel like- like I should be doing something.”

You shook your head. “You’re doing it.” Another small smile. You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and, keeping your eyes closed, you spoke again.

“There was- a guy that I thought was my friend. When we were younger, he was the one I talked to. He and his sister were my family, basically. When shit got out of control at home, I ran to their house. Their parents were nice to me, too. I felt safe there.” Obviously that didn’t last.

“He was there, when my mom died. I guess his parents must have told him what was happening, cause I hadn’t really talked to him in a long time. I was- I don’t even know. She was dead, and I didn’t care, but I did sort of. I didn’t know what to do, or think, or feel. I was drinking. A lot.” You scoffed. There was something Jim would understand better than anyone, drinking when you didn’t feel right. Totally a healthy coping mechanism. “He found me. We started talking. I cried. I felt safe with him still, I guess, and it all just came out. He stayed with me, let me talk, and cry, and drank with me. I felt better actually. But-” you could feel your hands shaking. Your breath caught a little in your throat, and you fought it back.

You told Jim how the old “friend” had taken advantage of you. You told him about how you’d been too drunk to force him away, how you couldn’t seem to get your body to move. You were ashamed. You were infuriated. Yet you did nothing.

“I filed a police report, but since I had been drinking, nothing much came of it.” You propped your elbows on your knees and dropped your head into your palms, your body deflating. “I just left.”

Jim moved then, he made an effort to keep his movements slow, and obvious as he crouch on the floor in front of you. He didn’t move from that spot until you sniffled and looked up, meeting his eyes. “You know you did nothing wrong, right?”

A watery laugh. “Yeah, I do now. I’ve been talking to the counselor.” You rubbed your eyes, thankful you hadn’t put on any makeup before this talk. “They’ve been helping a lot.”

“Why all of a sudden?” Jim asked quietly. Your brows drew together in confusion. “We’ve been on the same ship for years, but you brought it up now. What happened?”

“Spock happened actually,” you laughed. It was an actual laugh for the first time in your conversation. “He cornered me in the turbolift one day, and asked me why I’d been avoiding the bridge.”

“For an emotionless robot, he’s surprisingly good at reading people,” Jim said with an indulgent smile on his face. You smiled back.

“I actually- I called you, um- I- the counselor told me that I should try talking about it with someone I trust. And that- that I should try initiating touch.” You swallowed, uncomfortable again.

Jim looked at you in wonderment for a moment, and his smile grew. “I’m really glad you trust me,” he said, adjusting to sit on the floor. “Don’t rush yourself though. I’m here for you.”

Your heart hurt and your eyes watered, but this time, it wasn’t in pain. That was it. That was when you had the guts.

You moved.

Your hand shook, but you reached out. You reached out until your fingertips brushed the tips of Kirk’s hair. It was soft, and smooth. When you didn’t freak out, you pressed further. You ran your fingers through his hair. You were so focused on what you were doing that, it took you a moment to notice Jim’s reaction to this motion. His eyes were closed, all but leaning into your hand, he was practically purring. A hot blush crept across your cheeks, but you didn’t feel the need to pull away.

Eventually, you were on the floor in front of him. “Can- can I hug you?” you asked.

“Of course you can,” Jim smiled, opening his arms as you leaned in slowly. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, not until you asked.

When you leaned in and tentatively wrapped your arms around him, you expected to panic. A little bit of anxiety rose, but it didn’t strangle you. You didn’t feel constricted, or smothered. You just felt warm against Jim’s chest, his cologne tickling your nose a little. “Can you hug me back? Please.” you murmured.

His arms rested on your shoulders for a bit, then they tightened slowly until he was holding you to him. Then he rested his cheek against your temple.

“Is this okay” He asked.

You hummed in affirmation, and the two of you stayed in that position for so long, you couldn’t feel your legs by the time you tried to stand.

...

Not all of your aversion went away, and what aspects of it did got away, didn’t go quickly.

For a long while, Jim was the only one whose touch didn’t cause you to flinch. Slowly though, other people became okay. The bridge crew mostly, but some of your officers as well. Not hugs, those were only acceptable from Jim, but light touches, or pats on the shoulder didn’t phase you much anymore.

Occasionally you would still have bad days. You would pull away unconsciously. You apologized a lot. But every time, Jim would give you an encouraging smile, he’d offer you whatever you needed. He looked so proud of you when you hugged Dr. McCoy one day.

Maybe you weren’t completely healed yet, maybe you would ever be, but it was okay. You had the Enterprise. You had your crew. You had Jim.

Like I said, no fucking clue where this came from, but here it is. Please let me know what you think. I hope I did this concept even a little bit of justice...

Perma Tags (Open): @buckyappreciationsociety , @17marvelousfreak , @melconnor2007 , @writingwithadinosaur , @whenallsaidanddone , @hello-sweetie-get-the-salt , @umwhatandrea , @pineapplebooboo , @thefridgeismybestie , @xlemon-limex , @sammysgirl1997 , @4theluvofall , @geeksareunique , @madcheshire89 , @shakzer00 , @ajimagines , @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun , @mummy-woves-you , @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for , @strangersstranger

BoF Tag (cause this was my only Star Trek series): @yourtropegirl, @eufeme, @nickyquinnwrites, @magellan-88

#jim kirk aos #jim kirk x reader #star trek #touch aversion #Captain James T. Kirk #james t. kirk

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we-are-only-halfway-home93 · 5 years

Text

Come and Lay the Roses 5- Sell My Soul- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline meets Ragnar. Aelle makes a deal with Ecbert.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Lagertha, Ragnar

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violent, sex, torture

Word Count: 2634

Ch. 4

“Trust is a dangerous game.”

Ecbert sat with his hands pressed together and held against his lips. He watched Aelle with inscrutable eyes and contemplated his plea.

Aelle had been rash, attacking Kattegat. The peace brokered between Ragnar Lothbrok and his Northmen was tenuous at best but it had held steady since the death of his wife seven years before. Ecbert had worked hard to keep Ragnar Lothbrok at bay. He was a formidable enemy and the Saxon organization had suffered enough at his hands.

Aelle’s attack on Kattegat was foolish and had cost him. Yes, Ragnar Lothbrok suffered considerable financial damage, however, he made enough annually that it would be easy for him to recover the nearly five million dollars that he’d lost in Aelle’s attack. If anything, Aelle lost more than Ragnar.

The attack itself had been rash but Aelle decided to send his brother Aethelwulf in as the lead on the attack. Many Saxon men died and Aethelwulf was missing. Ecbert was confident that Ragnar Lothbrok had him locked up somewhere to use as a bargaining chip. If Aelle was lucky, they would just leave him locked up but, if Ragnar did was Ecbert thought he would do, then, Aethelwulf was most likely in the hands of Ragnar’s most brutal and unpredictable son.

Ecbert was well aware of Ivar Lothbrok’s reputation. It was well earned, after all. The rumors that surrounded Ivar “the Boneless” were intriguing. Ecbert had been witness to some of Ivar’s fights when he was a teenager. It was true that he appeared to dance inside the ring. If you looked close enough, it looked like he was moving and bending in ways that were impossible for the human body. His childhood nickname of “The Boneless” took on a whole new meaning.

Ecbert had heard whispers among his men of what Ivar Lothbrok was capable of. He was merciless when provoked. Fighting in the boxing ring was one thing but, when attacked, Ivar was ferocious. He stopped at nothing to get what he wanted or right whatever wrong he felt had been dealt against him. He was insane and yet, Ecbert had to admire the fierce loyalty that he maintained. He’d never turned his back on his family and Ecbert could only dream of such blind loyalty. His own son, coincidentally also named Aethelwulf, was loyal to a point.

Ecbert’s men liked to talk. They spoke mostly of Ragnar’s sons and their devotion to their father and his cause. They spoke of Björn’s impenetrable fighting style. How he was untouchable and no man could mark him. They spoke of Ubbe and Hvitserk and Sigurd and how each brother fought with abandon, unafraid of death.

They mostly spoke of Ivar. A demon, they called him, with black eyes full of malicious intent. A smile that dripped of sin and waved you off as he sent you to meet your maker. They spoke of how his teeth dripped red with the blood of his enemies. The most popular claim was that he would take men home, still alive, and flay the skin from their bones before eating it raw.

Ecbert was not one to believe in rumors. He did not doubt that the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok was as savage as his men claimed but he very much doubted that he was a cannibal or a demon, for that matter. He was just a man and men had weaknesses.

“What is it you think I can do for you, Aelle?” Ecbert folded his hands and sat back in his chair. Aelle heaved a great sigh and shifted his girth in his chair. The legs creaked ominously beneath him and Ecbert arched an eyebrow, waiting. “I propose that we come together. My men and your men, as a single unit, would be too much for Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons.”

Ecbert nodded in thought before he sat up. “I was not the one who attacked Ragnar Lothbrok. My brother is not the one currently behind enemy lines, probably being tortured for information. Ragnar Lothbrok is not after me. Why should I help you and break the peace that I have with Ragnar Lothbrok?”

Aelle looked irritated but must’ve been expecting the argument. He opened his mouth to continue. “It is no secret that the peace between you and Lothbrok has been unstable since the sudden death of his wife which,” Aelle held his hand up to keep Ecbert from interrupting. “We both know had nothing to do with either of us. It was an unfortunate tragedy, yes, but neither of us was wise to the plot.

“All the same, Ragnar has not trusted us since that unfortunate incident and has steadily been trying to push us out. He’s slowly bought out our clients, our storefronts. Just last week he made a deal with one of the top construction companies in the nation and is now a member of its board. He’s trying to get rid of us as quietly as possible.”

Ecbert narrowed his eyes and looked away from Aelle. He had had similar thoughts within the last few weeks. Lothbrok’s reach was getting too long. He was beginning to control more territory that Ecbert and Aelle combined. Soon enough, he would have control of everything Ecbert held dear.

He turned back to Aelle. “What kind of deal did he make?” Aelle’s smile widened and he leaned forward. “Ives Jensen was indebted to Lothbrok, owed him millions of dollars that he couldn’t pay back. Now, Ives’ only child is a daughter that he sent away after the death of her mother. Ragnar has five sons, all of whom are extremely devoted to their father, do whatever he asks.

“Now, Ives is a coward. He hasn’t been running his company since his daughter graduated from Oxford. Ragnar has four sons that are already married and one son that is rumored to be uncontrollable.”

Ecbert began to understand what kind of deal Ragnar Lothbrok had made. “These rumors have been hurting Ragnar’s reputation. His own men have begun to discuss his inability to control Ivar and how it may be time for him to step down. Of course, this is unacceptable so, when Lothbrok goes to kill Ives Jensen and take back his money, Ives does what all cowards do and offers someone else in his place.” Aelle’s voice was quiet like he was sharing a secret. Ecbert couldn’t help but smile as he listened.

“Ives offers his daughter as a wife for Ivar. He’ll hand over his company, his assets, everything to his daughter and, as an extension, Ragnar, in exchange for his life.” Aelle sat back, happy with the tale he just told.

“This is something that Ragnar cannot possibly pass up. One of the nations largest construction companies, virtual control over it, millions of dollars in revenue, and exhibiting his control over his youngest son. It works out wonderfully in his favor and gives him control of properties that have been in our territory for years.”

Ecbert took a deep breath and licked his lips. He looked over at Aelle. “Well, if Ragnar Lothbrok can make deals of marriage, why can’t we?” Aelle looked contemplative as Ecbert leaned forward, his hands pressed tightly against the desktop. “I have a son, you have a daughter. Let’s discuss our options.”

Aaline crept lightly down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark. Everyone else was asleep and Aaline didn’t want to wake them.

It was after three in the morning and Aaline was heading to the kitchen. She had trouble getting to sleep so she decided to venture down to one of the kitchens and make herself something to eat.

She remembered as a child waking up in the middle of the night and going in search of her mother. She would always find her in the kitchen with a tall glass of milk filled with crushed Oreos that she would dig out with a spoon. It was heavy with sugar and numbed Aaline’s mouth with the cold. She remembered giggling wildly with her mother during those late night snacks. It was one of the only memories she had of her mother before she died.

Aaline pulled the milk from the fridge and the Oreos from the cupboard. She poured herself and tall glass and then crumbled up each cookie individually before she dropped them into her glass. She closed her eyes as she took the first bite. It had been a long time since she’d last enjoyed this special treat. She hadn’t done it since college and the flood of memories brought tears to her eyes.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she and Ivar might ever share memories like this. She felt despair settle in her stomach at the thoughts and shook them away. She would be lucky if Ivar was tolerable.

She placed her dirty glass in the sink and made her way back around to the staircase and up to her room. On her way, she heard a soft rustling from the sitting room in the back of the house. She turned to investigate and saw a soft light coming from down the hall. She slowly made her way towards it and stopped in the doorway.

She’d seen enough pictures of Ragnar Lothbrok to know that he was sitting before her now. He had a newspaper from today, well, technically yesterday, unfolded in his hands. He had a pair of reading glasses pushed far down the end of his nose. He was bald but with a thick beard that obscured the lower half of his face. His face was lined with the experiences afforded to a man his age. The lines around his eyes trailed down his cheeks. There was a long scar on his right cheek that curved around his eye and up his forehead. She could tell, even from the doorway, that Ivar got his eyes from his father. They both held the same secrets and the same pain. Ivar’s eyes were cold where Ragnar’s were warm.

What surprised Aaline most about Ragnar’s appearance were the tattoos on either side of his head. They touched at his temples and spanned the space of his head, trailing down around his ears and disappearing into the collar of his shirt at his neck.

She was surprised that a businessman like Ragnar would adorn himself with such obvious ink but she recalled where he started in life and it made sense.

He began his career as a businessman at the bottom of the totem pole. A lowly foot soldier taking orders from the man on top. He did the bidding of Earl Haraldson, the man that Ragnar would one day replace.

As a foot soldier, Ragnar tattooed his victories on his skin. They told the story of his strength and his independence. They told anyone who looked at them how he overcame Earl Haraldson for control of Kattegat and, eventually, the Northmen.

“You are welcome to join me, Miss Jensen. There is another seat.” Aaline startled and blushed fiercely at being caught staring. She shuffled forward and sat on the edge of the chair next to Ragnar. He smiled at her and closed his paper, handing her an empty glass. She took it, confused, and watched as Ragnar unscrewed a flask and poured her two finger worth of whiskey. She smiled and took a careful sniff. Ragnar laughed when she burst into a coughing fit.

“My apologies. Floki makes his own whiskey and it is very potent.” She nodded and set the glass down, deciding to leave it untouched. Ragnar shuffled his paper and went back to reading.

Aaline felt awkward, sitting in the dark with a man she barely knew. She opened her mouth to speak but Ragnar beat her to it. “We have not been formally introduced.” He folded his paper and set it down on his lap. “I am Ragnar Lothbrok.” He held his hand out for her to shake. “Aaline Jensen.” She whispered.

He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners and she found she liked the way it changed his face. “It is nice to finally meet you, Aaline Jensen. I have heard a lot about you.” She tensed and nodded once, looking away from him. She heard him hum. “I imagine it is hard for you, being here, alone, knowing no one.”

There was an accent present in his voice. It was thick but he enunciated well, spoke clearly. She imagined a man like Ragnar Lothbrok was not stupid by any means. He had to be clever in order to get to where he is now.

She turned to look at him. “I’m adjusting.” She said. He nodded, looking over her face. “The girls are lovely, very welcoming.” She nodded and looked down at her hands. “At one time, they were all in your shoes. New to this world, the challenges of marrying a Lothbrok.” She snorted and he quirked an eyebrow.

She sighed. “No offense, Mr. Lothbrok,” He cut her off. “Call me Ragnar, please.” She hesitated but nodded and continued. “No offense, Ragnar, but I don’t think any of the other women who married into this family did so under duress.” Ragnar smiled and nodded, humming his agreement. “No, I don’t believe they did.”

She looked at him and watched as he breathed deeply. “You remind me of my daughter, Gyda. She had a fire about her. She would not be told what to do. She followed her own path, made her own decisions.” Aaline drew her eyebrows together. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Ragnar looked sad then and nodded slowly. “She died, many years ago.” Aaline closed her eyes and shook her head. Losing her mother had been hard on her but she couldn’t imagine losing a child. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been very difficult for you.” Ragnar grunted.

“There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. She was the light of my life.” Aaline felt tears burn her eyes and wished that her father held her in the same regard that Ragnar did his daughter. Her father had said a lot of pretty things to her but never had he displayed his affection in a way that meant anything.

“I love my sons, dearly. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.” She looked up at him then and his gaze was focused on her entirely. She felt trapped beneath his eyes. “But their wives, my new daughters, in all of them I see Gyda. I am reminded of how easily life can be taken and I vowed to protect them as I would my own daughter.”

He picked up his own glass of whiskey and took a long drink. He placed it back down and smiled at her. “I know that this is not what you want. It is not what Ivar wants, either. I imagine none of us ever thought this would be a path life would lead us down but, alas, we are here.” He shifted in his seat to face her fully, his eyes still locking her in place. “I want you to know, as much as you may not believe it now, you will always be protected under this house. You are my daughter now and you will always be safe here.”

Aaline swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. She wanted to speak, say anything to Ragnar Lothbrok but the lump in her throat was too thick and any words that she tried to force would lead her to tears. Ragnar must’ve sensed it because he tipped his head to her and gestured to the door.

“It is late, child. Go back to bed. There are many things to do in the morning.”

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alleiradayne · 6 years

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Part III - Gold

Summary: I barely make it to the gold panel in time. Characters: Jared Padalecki/Me, Jensen Ackles Warnings: Fluff, angst, and more smut Word Count: 1,593 A/N: Again, please assume all parties are single and no spouse hate!

The morning had started off less than romantic with my phone sounding an alarm at seven o’clock.

“What... what is that?”

I slapped my phone haphazardly and stopped the alarm. “Bach’s Cello Suite in G.”

Insistent fingers teased my hips as Jared reached for me. “Sounded familiar.”

“I’m pretty sure most phones come with it installed,” I said with a laugh, “What are you doing? I have to get in the shower.”

The wet warmth of his kisses trailed along my shoulder and up my neck to my ear where he whispered, “Stay a few minutes?”

“I really need to get going, I don’t want to be late to the gold panel.” When Jared laughed, the silliness of my statement sunk in. “Okay, I get it, the panel won’t start without you, but it won’t wait for me, and as much as I want to lay here with you all morning, I can’t. We need to get your runner to my room to get my shit.”

“Oh, fuck, that’s right,” he mumbled against my skin and I shivered. One large hand slipped over my hip and dipped between my thighs. “I’ll call them right away, write down your hotel and room number?”

Had I been capable of responding, I’d have done so, but between Jared’s fingers parting my lips, his mouth on my skin, and his rock hard cock grinding against my ass, I blanked. Surely, we had a few minutes to indulge. Right? Had to wait for the runner anyway.

“Jeanna?”

I squirmed away from him for the bedside table and grabbed a pen and paper. “Here.”

He made the phone call quick, but not without a distracted breath or two. If he could tease me into confusion, then the least I could do was return the favor. I crawled back into the bed and lay beside him, bodies flush. His first stuttered word followed the tips of my fingers as I teased his hip. Drawn along the angle of his oblique, I reached his cock and it twitched as I grasped him. He sighed with the first stroke, eyes squeezed shut to concentrate. Then his phone landed on the nightstand where he tossed it aside, the call finished in a rush of confirmation.

The growl of frustration that rumbled deep in his chest crashed a tidal wave of arousal straight to my cunt as his tightly controlled strength forced me to my stomach, and he straddled my hips. “Tease.”

“You like it,” I quipped with a coy wink over my shoulder. “What are you gonna—”

Rough fingers pried at my flesh as Jared spread me, then pressed the tip of his cock to my pussy. I cried out, shock, pain, and pleasure all rolled into one thrilling sensation “Oh, don’t act surprised, you knew what I was doing.”

“Yeah,” I moaned, “but you still liked it.”

The pleased hum that sang through his nose filled me with life. “I did,” he sighed. “You know me better than you think.”

A slow, subtle roll of is hips stroked the tip of his cock barely an inch inside me. “Fuck, you know what I like, too. Tease.”

Jared continued his subdued play with short thrusts of his hips. Pleasured sighs fell from his lips as his mouth gaped, and his half-lidded eyes stared. “God, it’s so hot. You look damn good wrapped around my cock.”

I writhed beneath him, unable to sit still any longer. Jared was right. I enjoyed his teasing, but only for so long.. With my back arched, I raised my hips to his and enveloped the length of his cock in one smooth push.

Filled, I cried out a long, high moan as Jared whimpered. His hands grasped my hips with a slap as he held me still, and another deep groan rolled through his chest. “Holy shit, you feel so damn good on me. Even better the second time.”

When I tried to pull away from him, Jared held me fast. “We don’t have a lot of time,” I insisted. “Fuck me.”

Without a word of dissent, he obeyed. First, a long slow stroke nearly withdrew him from me, but a sharp snap of his hips sheathed him once more. And then he set his pace, hips thrusting a steady rhythm. Over my shoulder, I watched. The sight of him towering over me and fucking me left me dizzy with want. Want for more, more of him, all of him.

Time ceased to exist, minutes seeming to stretch. When he sped up, hips driving his cock into my cunt, my end neared. Coiled so tightly, that bundle of ecstasy bubbled to the surface, reaching a fever pitch as Jared pumped into me. Lewd strings of profanity fell from our lips as he too neared his end, and Jared leaned down to my ear to whisper. “Come for me, Jeanna.”

I’d hoped to hold off a little longer, to time my release with his. But when Jared’s hand slipped over my hip and between my thighs once more, withstanding that touch proved impossible. Nimble fingers circled my clit, coupled with his furious pounding of my cunt. Mere seconds shoved me over the edge, that coil of arousal bursting apart at the seams as I came undone.

Staggered thrusts followed, and the hard, heavy flexes of his cock preceded the warmth of his cum as Jared came. The walls of my pussy clenched in the aftershocks of my own release, and he gasped, short, breathless praises murmured into my neck as he leaned over me.

“That…” he sighed, “was one hell of a quickie.”

When I opened my mouth to respond, a knock at the hotel door interrupted my thought. “Shit. Can you get it, I’m gonna—” I pointed to the bathroom.

“Yeah, go, I’ll grab your things,” he said. But before he moved, he planted a hard kiss on my lips.

Parted, I pushed him back. “Go, dude, I gotta get in the shower or I’m gonna be late.”

With a short breath of his ridiculous laugh, Jared hopped from the bed, grabbed his underwear from the floor, and disappeared down the hallway.

The remainder of the morning passed in a blur. Shower, hair, and makeup all took longer than I’d hoped, and Jared had to leave for breakfast before I was remotely close to ready. It was then, alone in his hotel room, that my mind ran wild with all the ways shit might go wrong. He would forget about me. I mean, why would he even bother trying? There were plenty of women in his line of work far more interesting than me. And he could just about have his pick of them. What did I have to offer that they didn't?

By the time I was finishing my makeup, I received a text.

I promise we’ll talk at the end of the day. I’ll let your VIP liaison know. Don’t leave without me.

I wasn’t about to hold my breath. Over the course of two hours, I’d prepared myself for the worst. The convention would end. I’d linger in the hall until I got kicked out. And Jared would already be on a plane back to Vancouver.

Another text message came in.

Show me your face!

I took the worst selfie in the history of selfies and sent it.

Another chime from my phone followed me out of Jared’s room. I shifted my backpack and suitcase to look at my phone.

Sorry, that was Jensen, he stole my phone. He didn’t see your picture, don’t worry.

Great. I did my best to put our time together in the back of my mind as I left the hotel and headed back to the convention center. By the time I got back to my car, dropped off my luggage, and dashed into the theater, I made it to my seat with seconds to spare.

I tore my camera from my bag and pieced it together in time for Jared and Jensen to walk on stage, smiling and waving. Burst mode took pictures as fast as my shutter speed allowed. And though I tried, the only thing I could think about was the time I’d spent with Jared. I vaguely remember them talking about their Saturday—no mention of Jensen walking in on us, thank god—Jensen’s sore knee from running, and how much they enjoy Minneapolis and the convention center’s theater. My camera shutter never stopped. I wanted to capture as many moments as possible. And sitting so close, with my rented lens, I took some phenomenal images.

To this day, I am still mad I did not get to eat one of those cupcakes. The pictures made up for it. Mostly.

As I reviewed an array of images, I noticed something in them. Jared scanned the theater as Jensen answered questions. He did it damn near every question, first answering, then sweeping stage left to stage right and back again. By the fifth question, my stomach plummeted.

He was searching for me. He was looking for me and I was hiding behind my obnoxiously large camera lens.

Shit.

I contemplated on waving but thought better of it. If he saw me and waved back, people might get the wrong idea.

Except it wasn’t the wrong idea. It was the truth.

I desperately wanted to wave, to put his mind at ease. But I followed my better judgement. I’d see him again later. Despite everything I wanted in that moment, I remained hidden behind my camera.

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