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froggibus · 1 year ago

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Vermillion Flames - Blackwatch! Genji

Pairing: Blackwatch! Genji Shimada x f! Reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: angst, smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Genji is the newest addition to Blackwatch, and while he seems to be angry at everything, his anger seems to be clouded over by something else—his feelings for you

CW: dubcon, dark! Genji, Blackwatch! Genji, dom! Genji, sub! reader, dacryphilia, masturbation, marking, choking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, breeding? kinda, violence, reader gets shot, mutual pining, Genji is a lil obsessive

THIS IS NOT THE HAPPY, WELL-ADJUSTED GENJI WE KNOW AND LOVE. THIS IS A DARKER, BLACKWATCH GENJI WHO IS STILL COPING WITH HIS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AFTER THE INCIDENT.

I’ve had this idea for a really long time and at one point was writing a full length fic about this, but I always lose motivation so here is the bite sized version lol. I kinda tried to keep his character here while also playing to the darker elements, especially his feelings towards himself and others after the accident. also I’m just super down bad for dark! Genji so enjoy <3

————

If there’s anything you’ve come to learn in your time as a Blackwatch agent, it’s how to know when you’re being watched.

Despite stepping off of the jet into the cold Russian air, you feel the warm sting of eyes on your back. You glance over your shoulder—but the only people around are your teammates.

Cole Cassidy isn’t even looking your way, his focus is on the holster attached to his belt and the Peacekeeper that sits inside of it.

Gabriel Reyes has his holopad out, eyes narrowed at the schematics on his screen. He doesn’t seem aware of what’s going on around him, but you know Reyes—he’s always watching.

Moira O’Deorain hasn’t even stepped off of the jet yet. Your best guess is she’s still gathering all of her equipment into a bag that she’ll force Cassidy to carry later on.

So that leaves Genji. The mysterious cyborg is the newest addition to your team and he’s kept to himself the past few weeks. You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t caught your eye, but you knew better. Reyes and Cassidy had constantly reminded you that he was dangerous, unstable. Still, the dangerous air to him sends electricity arcing up your back.

You shrug it off. Maybe you’re just paranoid because you’re about to infiltrate a terrorist organization. You turn back to the terrain ahead.

Genji Shimada can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. Something about the sway of your hips, the swell of your ass, just captivates him. Dark eyes stare at you, shockwaves rushing through his system.

It’s been so long since a woman has been able to capture his attention. Ever since he became the cyborg monstrosity he sees himself as, he hasn’t had time for women. Or more accurately, women don’t want a robot for a boyfriend.

He suppresses a sigh. The group has already started trekking through the snow, and he has no choice but to follow. The cold air does wonders to suppress the heat rushing through him, and he’s grateful for his mask so that no one sees the red tinge to his face. He forces his eyes to look at the horizon, to look at the path ahead, to look anywhere but you.

The trek to the facility feels like an eternity, and you’re not sure if it’s from the eyes burning into you or the deep snow, or some combination of both.

You shake it off. You can’t afford to be distracted on this mission, and Genji is off limits.

—

Genji is less than enthused when Reyes pairs him off with you. He couldn’t help but notice the way you shrunk in on yourself when Reyes called his name. He hates how the sight sends blood rushing through him.

The two of you set out on sneaking through the vents of the facility, blindly feeling your way through the dark in hopes to find the lab. You can hear Genji breathing behind you and see the red glow of his armor reflected on the vents. Having him behind you now, nowhere to stare but you, only confirms what you thought earlier. He was looking at you. You’re not sure how to feel about that.

You’re so distracted by his presence that you don’t realize the loose grate beneath you until you’re falling through it, tumbling towards the ground. You barely manage to brace yourself before you hit the rubber floor of the facility, using your momentum to roll.

Unfortunately, your entrance was less than graceful and now the Talon agents in the room are staring at you.

Genji groans, shaking his head at you. Great. He watches as one of the agents hits the panic button, and red lights and an alarm start blaring. He watches from the vent, waiting to see what you’ll do.

The agents in the room flee, but they’re replaced by other agents in full body armor, carrying pulse rifles. You stand your ground, extending out your bo staff and spinning it in front of you with expert grace.

If he wasn’t so pissed off at you, Genji would be impressed.

He lets you fight off the first wave on your own, but as soon as the agents start to overwhelm you, he’s dropping out of the vent. He lands silently, the agents not even noticing him until he’s slicing through their ranks.

You finish off the last of your agents and freeze, watching him fight. He’s a blur of silver and black and red, a gory mess but beautiful in the same sense a graveyard is. Watching him now, you see why Cass and Reyes had warned you about him—you can almost see the ghosts of his past following him through the fight.

You’re so distracted, so infatuated, you don’t notice the stray bullet headed straight for you.

Genji reacts before you do, diving in front of you and deflecting it into the straggling agent. The agent collapses to the ground, a hole burning in his chest armor.

“T-thank you.”

Genji spins around, staring down at you. He’s not very tall, but he just seems so much bigger than you right now. You wait for him to say something, anything, but instead he just sighs.

The two of you make your way through the facility as quietly as you can, blending into the shadows casted by the blinking red lights. Every once in a while, Genji grabs your wrist harshly to tug you along with him. You don’t need words to know he’s pissed at you.

He’s so mad at you, so frustrated with your inability to focus. And yet a stupid part of him still wants to protect you.

The journey back to the jet feels like an eternity, made worse by Genji’s complete and utter silence. You try to make conversation with him, avoiding bringing up what just happened, but it only seems to make him more angry. He walks slightly ahead of you, refusing to let himself look at you.

The emotions swelling in his chest are so confusing, he just wants to hit something. He’s so angry at you, and your stupid sunshine persona just keeps talking and talking. He’s half tempted to tell you to shut up, stop talking, but he knows he has to keep it together until you’re back to safety. And though he’s angry, another part of him isn’t.

It’s the first time in months he’s felt something that wasn’t riddled in angst and guilt, and he hates it. He hates that he wants to just look at you. Just stare at you for hours on end. He hates the way you make his heart race and the blood rush to his groin.

Just before you make it to the jet, a few meters from where the ramp is down and you’re sure Reyes and Cass and Moira are waiting, you try to catch up with Genji.

You jog up to his side, trying to grab his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, I’m really sorry for—”

Genji spins around impossibly fast, catching your wrist in his metal palm. He squeezes it enough for it to hurt. You try to pull away but he keeps you there—a display of his strength, and the difference between the two of you. You hate the way it makes your heart speed up in spite of the pain.

“Don’t.” He simply says, but he doesn’t let go of your wrist.

His tone catches you by surprise. You’ve barely ever talked to him, and now he sounds so angry with you, it makes you shiver.

You glare at him, waiting for him to say something else. He glares back, red eyes narrowing in on you. When your eyes meet, there’s that electricity again. You wonder if he feels it too.

Then, as if nothing happened, he drops your wrist and boards the plane. You catch your aching wrist, rubbing at the sore skin, before following him onto the jet.

—

You’re pulled into Morrison’s office almost as soon as you land back at HQ. Reyes follows you in, ready to both berate and defend you in front of his closest comrade. You stand the whole time, fingers fiddling with the foam head of the chair next to Reyes.

You zone out while Jack yells, staring at the wall above his head, waiting for it to be over. Everything he’s saying is true—you were reckless, distracted, stupid. You could have gotten everybody killed, one more mistake like this and there won’t be a place for you within Blackwatch anymore.

Genji listens from the other side of the door. He tried to stop himself, but the look on your face when Reyes started to guide you down the hall changed his mind. You looked so scared. He wasn’t going to let you face that alone.

Everytime Jack raises his voice, Genji’s hand clenches the door handle, ready to burst into the room. Yet he doesn’t, because everytime, you just say ‘yes sir’ in that cute obedient voice that’s driving him crazy.

At a particularly loud burst, he’s turning the handle when he hears the loud clicking of boots behind him.

“Don’t,” Cassidy warns, “it ain’t worth it.”

He spins around, squinting at the cowboy. They’ve barely interacted, but when they have, it’s been brief.

“Y/n made the mistake, y/n’s gotta pay for it. Simple.”

Genji takes a deep breath. He knows he’s right, it’s none of Genji’s business. But something about being told to leave you alone, let you face this alone, makes him so angry. He can feel the blood rush to his ears.

“I don’t know if I like you muckin’ about in their business, anyway.” He raises an eyebrow at the cyborg, “y/n’s a good person.”

Though he doesn’t say it, the implication is loud and clear. You’re a good person, he’s not. Still, being told to stay away from you only makes him want to be with you more. He hates it.

“Just,” the cowboy sighs, taking back his earlier judgment. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hallway, spurs clicking the whole way.

They’ve been talking for so long that the meeting is almost over, and Genji only has a few seconds to dash down the hall before the door is swinging open.

You tug on your hair in frustration, forcing yourself to keep your feelings in until you get to your room. You scream as soon as your door closes behind you, kicking a pile of clothes in frustration.

You pull off your suit, toss it with the clothes, and collapse in a heap on your bed. You fucked up so bad, you really, really fucked up. And it’s all because of that stupid fucking cyborg and his stupid fucking attitude.

You lay there in your underwear for god knows how long, sobbing out your frustrations for the day.

Genji sits in his bed on the other side of the wall. He can hear you, and a part of him wants to comfort you. But another, darker part of him just wants to see you cry. He shakes his head—when did he get so fucked up?

Still, he can’t help but seethe. He’s the only one who should be making you cry like this, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from him yelling at you. God.

He tugs off his visor and slams it on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know how to deal with his feelings anymore. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything but this burning anger, and the combination of these emotions are driving him crazy. You’re driving him crazy.

It’s like his attraction has dialed up to 11, and he doesn’t know how to cope.

He can still hear your sobs from the other side of the wall, and he hates the way it makes his cock swell. It hurts—straining against the metal plate of his armor.

He groans, part pain, part pleasure. He hates his body, he hates his stupid robot parts. And the fact that he can’t even get a hard on anymore without it hurting makes him hate everything even more.

He strips out of his armor, peeling away the metal parts that he can, despising the ones he can’t. Still, he’s happy that his cock is free, the fresh air feeling amazing on his sensitive head.

He spits in his hand, spreading out the moisture on the shaft of his cock. He focuses on the sound of your crying through the walls, shutting his eyes and rubbing himself while he listens to it. You sound so pretty, so weak. He loves it.

He only wishes he was in there with you.

He speeds up his movements, thrusting into his hand. He can picture it so well—him pinning you to the bed, fucking you until you cry like that. Listening to you beg and whine and sob all night.

He’s finishing in his hand before he can finish the fantasy, wiping off the cum with a tissue and tossing it in the trash.

He lays back in bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? He was never like this before, never into stuff like this before. And he knows a part of him will never be the same since the accident, but he didn’t know it would be like this.

He wants to protect you. He wants to avoid you. He wants to fuck you, he wants to make you cry. He wants to make you feel better, he wants to take care of you. It makes his head spin. He’s never been obsessed like this before.

He shakes his head. He needs to stay away from you before this gets any worse.

—

Genji avoids you like the plague after that. He always chooses to spar with Cass during training, he refuses to be your partner on missions, and when he is, he just ignores you the whole time.

You’re not even sure what you did wrong. You know there was that weird, tense moment after you messed up that mission, but you didn’t think that was reason enough to hate you. The whole enigma of him makes your head spin, but it’s so alluring that you couldn’t hate him even if you wanted to.

Sometimes you catch him staring at you, red eyes examining you like prey, but as soon as you notice it, it’s done. You’re not one to talk though—sometimes you catch yourself zoning out on him, watching his arms as he trains, watching his sweaty black hair falling in his face.

The tension between you two is suffocating.

So of course Reyes has to assign him to be your partner on an undercover mission in London.

The mission starts off normal, but so did all of the other ones. Genji keeps a close eye on you, ready to make sure you don’t get distracted and fuck up again. Still, he’s the one that’s distracted. Ever since that day in his room when he got off on hearing you cry, his feelings towards you have only grown.

He shakes his head and forces himself to focus. He can’t afford to get distracted here—not when either one of you could get hurt in the process.

The rooftops of London are completely empty, and so are the streets, surprisingly. The two of you creep around, trying to make your way to the stakeout point so you can observe a secret meetup. The air smells of petrichor, the sky threatening to open up and pour down on you. You wouldn’t complain if it did. You need something to cool you off from the thoughts you’ve been having about Genji.

You make it to the designated spot, setting up your stuff. You radio to Reyes that you’ve arrived at the vantage point and he radios back that the deal should be happening at any minute.

Any minute, which is code for anytime in the next hour. You hope it’s sooner rather than later so you don’t have to deal with this awkward silence. You fiddle with your fingers, tapping them on your knees.

Genji watches you closely. He watches the way you mess around with your fingers, watches your chest with every breath you take. That costume fits you perfectly, and he hates the idea that other people get to see you like this.

The meeting happens only a few minutes after you arrive, a tall omnic dressed in a suit emerging from the shadows to deal with a scraggly looking man. Genji observes them closely while you take pictures, capturing everything they do.

Something seems wrong, though. They’re not exchanging goods like the intel said they would be. In fact, it doesn’t seem like a secret meeting at all. Genji realizes it’s a trap a second too late, only managing to shove you down as a bullet rips across the landscape.

It grazes your shoulder, a burning pain spreading through your body. You collapse to the ground with a whine, Genji landing on top of you. He presses his hand to your mouth to keep you quiet.

You’re in so much pain—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this way before. It burns and it aches and it feels as though you’ve been ripped apart. Genji presses down on the wound and a scream leaves your throat just as another bullet rips through the air.

It just barely misses the top of Genji’s head.

“Stay here,” he breathes heavily, suddenly pouncing to his feet.

That’s the most he’s spoken to you in weeks, and it’s the first thing you’ve heard him say without that tone behind it. You watch as he stands up and draws his sword, challenging the sniper to shoot again.

They do, and Genji is ready. He deflects it back perfectly, the clang of metal on metal replacing the sound of the shot. There’s a yelp from far away, and satisfied that he’s got them, Genji returns to your side.

Only, you’ve lost so much blood that you’re barely coherent. “Fuck!” He taps your face, willing you to stay with him, but you drift off.

—

You wake up in a hotel room, body aching in the clean linen sheets. Your shoulder burns, and then you remember what happened. You sit up quickly, tugging off your shirt to examine the wound. It’s been cleaned and bandaged, under a huge patch of blood stained gauze.

You sigh in relief. You’re not dead—but you would be if it weren’t for Genji.

The hotel room is fairly clean, aside from your bloody uniform that’s laying on the ground next to the bed. You blink a few times. You were on a mission—where did you get a spare change of clothes? Did Genji go shopping?

As if on cue, Genji speaks from where he’s sitting near the closed curtains. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” you admit.

He nods, clearly not in a joking mood. “They won’t be able to extract us until tomorrow morning. Reyes set up this room for us and sent the extra clothes.”

That makes sense. There’s no way they’d be able to get you two out of the streets without drawing attention, especially after shots were fired.

You rub the seam of the gauze, trailing over the wound subconsciously.

“We should change that.”

You follow him into the bathroom, awkwardly sitting on the counter while he pulls out a grocery bag of first aid supplies. You pull off your shirt, embarrassed at the prospect of him seeing you half naked. At least you were unconscious and didn’t have to deal with the humiliation last time.

You don’t miss the way Genji’s eyes graze over your skin, tracing the outline of your collarbone. It makes you heat up, thoughts of him kissing you there flooding your mind. You shake them away—he’s just helping you out. It’s wrong to think of him this way.

He peels off the old gauze covering, discarding it in the trash, before dabbing alcohol across the wound.

You watch him work, fingers knowing what to do without him even thinking about it. He traces the outline of the gauze after he places it on your skin, cold metal fingers settling the hotter parts of you.

You shiver under his touch, looking up at him. Genji looks back, dark eyes meeting your softer ones. You offer him a gentle grin.

His hand moves from your shoulder to your hip, squeezing it. He finds himself leaning in, and you find yourself getting closer. And then just before your lips touch, he pulls away like he’s been burned.

“G-Genji?”

He shakes his head, storming out of the bathroom. You follow after him, not even bothering to tug your shirt back on.

“Don’t come near me!”

You furrow your brows at his words. “What? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

He tugs on his hair, repeatedly shaking his head at you. You can see the way his muscles are tensing, see the way he’s trying to show restraint. But why?

“Genji,” you step closer to him cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “What is it?”

He keeps shaking his head, eyes focused on the floor, ignoring you completely. You take another step, only inches from him now.

“Genji.”

“I’m a fucking monster, okay?” His outburst makes you flinch but you hold your ground. “I’m not even human anymore, and I have all these sick fucking thoughts about what I want to do to you and—you should just stay away from me, okay?”

“What kind of sick thoughts?”

“You don’t want to know,” his eyes finally meet yours.

You step an inch closer, standing on your toes so that your mouth hovers near his. “I think I do.”

“Y/n,” he warns.

You ignore the warning. You ignore all of the red flags. You ignore the voice in your head that says maybe this isn’t the best idea. You jump into his arms, smashing your lips against his and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He turns you around to slam you into the wall, being careful to avoid reopening your wound. He’s so hungry for you, so desperate. His lips nip at yours like a man starved, all he wants, all he needs right now is to have you.

He carries you over to the bed, tossing you into it before climbing on top of you and ripping off your pants. You’re left naked, shivering in anticipation at what he’s going to do to you.

You don’t know how deep his cybernetic parts run, you hardly know anything about him, but he’s all you want. You tug him to you by his hair, making him kiss you again. One of his metal thighs slips between your legs, giving you something to grind your wet pussy against while you make out.

His lips move down to your neck, biting at the sensitive skin. Moans force their way out of your throat, the sting of his teeth breaking the skin making your eyes water.

Genji pulls back, looking at your teary eyes. The thought of finally having you like this, so vulnerable underneath him, is enough to make him feral.

His hand is slipping between your legs, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease. Your wet pussy gushes around him, begging him for more. You whine at his roughness—but it’s so fucking good.

He shoves them in and out of you, curling them inside of you in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His mouth finds its way to your tits, biting your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. The sound has his cock swelling even more, straining against the metal.

He slips a third finger in you, stretching you out in such a delicious, amazing way. You moan his name, trying to let him know you’re getting close, but Genji is too drunk on the feeling of you to listen.

He keeps attacking your chest with his mouth, leaving bruises and bite marks across your skin. It’s his way of marking his territory, of showing everyone who you belong to.

He’s wanted this for so long, and he’s going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you.

You cum hard on his fingers, and Genji stops just to watch how pretty you look when you cum. He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking off the juices and moaning at the taste.

The sight of him is enough to make you horny again, and suddenly you’re thrusting your hips in the air, desperate for any sort of contact.

“So desperate,” he teases.

“I-I—”

He mocks you, popping off the metal plate from his crotch and stroking his cock. He rubs his head through your folds, collecting up your slick on his shaft. You’re already ready for him, your first orgasm prepping you more than enough.

He pushes his whole cock in, your walls straining to take him. He can’t quite get his whole length inside of you, so he pulls out and shoves it in again. He watches as he sinks in and out of you, the last two inches of his cock staying outside of the wetness he longs to be in.

He’s bigger than you’re used to, and your pussy is already so sensitive. That doesn’t stop Genji, though. He keeps slamming his hips into yours, trying to force his cock inside of you. You whimper with every thrust, almost screaming when he hits that spot deep inside of you.

Genji rolls his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep. He grabs at your neck, strong hand gently squeezing. You gasp at the sudden feeling and the lack of oxygen, but the burning in your throat feels so good you don’t want him to stop. Everything starts to get fuzzy, and the feeling of Genji railing you starts to feel even better.

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until he releases his grip on your throat and lets you breathe. The blood rushes to your ears. Your eyes have teared up from the choking, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but Genji pins your wrists above your head.

The sight of you lying beneath him, whimpering and crying like he imagined has him going crazy. He keeps bullying his cock into your swollen pussy, thrusts getting sloppier by the second until he fully bottoms out and pumps his cum inside of you.

“G-Genji,” you breathe. “Did—did you just—”

Genji’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, fucking his cum back inside of you. The hot mixture of his cum and your juices being fucked inside of you has you curling your toes.

His pace is brutal, his mind only set on fucking you full and keeping you stuffed. He pushes your legs up into your stomach, fucking you into a mating press.

Your vision blurs from the tears, your nerves overloading from the overstimulation and making you shiver. Genji fucks you through it, pounding into you, sure to get his entire length in every time. It’s not long before you’re cumming again, your body convulsing with your orgasm. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, but Genji holds them in place while he finishes fucking you.

He reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, the sight of you sobbing only making him fuck you harder. God, he’s wanted this for so long and he’ll do anything to keep it. Anything as long as he gets to keep fucking you like this.

“G-gonna finish inside of you,” he groans. “Gonna stuff you full. Y-you like that?”

You nod furiously, but you’re so fucked out that he could do anything to you at this point and you wouldn’t care. Genji cums with a string of moans and curses, cock twitching inside of you.

He doesn’t pull out, instead, he lays on his side and tugs you so your back is pressed against his chest. He keeps his cock inside of you, holding his cum inside.

It’s not long before you’re falling asleep, Genji’s fingers tracing patterns on your stomach. For the first time in a long time, he feels like the anger and the darkness within him are sated, and for now, that’s more than enough.

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spaceorphan18 · 25 days ago

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The Lady Whistledown Papers : 2x01 Capital R Rake (Part 2)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Penelope and Eloise

Before I delve into this deliciously layered Penelope and Eloise conversation - in the family scene a couple scenes previously, Colin's absence in this episode is explained in that he decided to go check out Albania while he was hanging out around the Mediterranean, because why not. And of course - Eloise brings up the fact that he can do that because he's a dude and women aren't allowed to do those things (which is kind of sucky - but also is additional commentary on Eloise's arc for the season).

I kind of wonder - was there a reason Colin was written out of episode one? Too many things going on? I don't think Luke Newton had a scheduling conflict. Hmmm.

Alright, so we get Eloise and Penelope walking around the square. First topic of discussion -- Eloise complaining that Daphne's advice was a list of top ten ways on how to entrap a man. (!!!) That's really wild. Do we think Daphne sent that as a joke? Or was Eloise exaggerating? Either way, it's hilarious. Penelope thinks so too -- girl is in a great mood as she walks with her bff. Eloise's indignation is played for great comedic effect here. (And A+ job from Claudia Jessie as she is fantastic at giving Eloise some great comedic beats.)

Penelope stops to pick up a quill -- and Eloise notes that she goes through them pretty quickly. It's a nod to her secret life as LW, and they're setting up early that Eloise's story is going to come crashing into Penelope's - and the LW stuff.

Of course, Penelope avoids the conversation by saying she's working on her correspondence. Eloise brings up the Featherington heir (which we haven't learned anything about yet), and Penelope admits (because she feels safe, yet still hesitant with Eloise) that she's been writing to Colin. But I love the turn of phrase she uses -- she says :: Colin has been keeping me informed. Putting acknowledgement that it's he who has been writing to her. Because, not only would it be improper for her to be writing a male who is not in her family, but... it lets us know that Colin is willfully writing to Penelope. And... it's also a way to not tip off Eloise of her feelings towards him. It's such a great, key detail!

The other thing to note is Eloise's reaction. She does not care about Colin's travels -- and mentions that he rambles on and on. This is also a key note for Colin's story -- when he gets back, he's going to try to connect with anyone, really, about his experiences. His family members are kind of all caught up in their own lives, and it's not that they don't care, but it's that life moves on without him. A lot of his arc this season will be trying to figure out what his role in life is.

Anyway, Penelope remarks that Colin is no Lady Whistledown, which is... a fascinating response. I mean, it's partly to throw Eloise off the fact that writing to Colin is one of the highlights of her life at the moment. But it's also an ego thing -- as she's in the prime of the Lady Whistledown madness, and is loving the attention she's getting from it.

And, I love how Eloise responds to that -- he at least gives Colin some credit in that he's gone out to see the world, something that Lady Whistledown hasn't done. And ooh, the look on Penelope's face. She's like, whoa, hold up, what??

She throws back that Eloise used to revere LW (which is what Penelope wants to hear more about) and reminds her that LW interrupted (saved her from) her debut. Penelope is clearly proud of pulling that off -- but Eloise kind of shrugs it off. She was grateful for the interruption, but Eloise is less than impressed with the column.

Penelope, again, wanting to hear more positive feedback, and reeling from Eloise seeming indifferent at best, mentions how good of a writer LW is. Eloise is like, sure, she can use words -- but is she saying anything worthwhile with them? Penelope doesn't really know what to say to this. Eloise then continues on, claiming that she's been reading articles with more substance, and Penelope's face (lol)... She's been so proud of her work, but Eloise all but dismissing it has her really rethinking everything.

Eloise goes on to say that she's discovered the writing of Mary Wollstonecraft -- and for those of you who don't know (and, you know what, I didn't - I googled this lady), Wollstonecraft was a late 18th century philosopher and feminist, and.... get this, mother of Mary Shelley (author of Frankenstein). Fascinating, right?

Anyway - her writings detail female empowerment, and would definitely appeal to someone like Eloise. (And, I kind of wonder what Penelope think if she weren't jealous of Eloise's attention be taken elsewhere. Her 'haughty' comment reeks of insecurity.)

Eloise goes on to say that LW does have some power, and if instead of writing about balls and gossip, and instead wrote more about female empowerment, than she may have some kind of pull to make some change in the world. And Penelope does seem to consider it - at least a little.

But then Eloise puts in a stinger -- and completely (unknowingly) calls out the fact that LW isn't a participant in society, hence she's able to write what she can. We don't really get to see Penelope's reaction -- other than a kind of changing of the subject, but Eloise is right on the nose. And it gives Penelope a lot to think about.

Family Troubles

The next scene we get is the Featheringtons getting ready for the ball. And... a couple of things to note right off the bat. First of all, that settee is huge! And much nicer looking than the one that Pen's going to share with Colin (probably sturdier, too, lol). Secondly, I tried to zoom in and figure out what book she's reading, and I couldn't figure it out -- if anyone can get a clearer zoom in, please let me know! I'd love to know what she's reading. Also love that yet again she's got a book in her hand as the insanity goes on around her.

We learn in this scene that the Featheringtons are strapping for cash. All the servants have left, and Mrs. Varley is left doing pretty much everything, including cooking potatoes for the 100th time. (idk why they're complaining - potatoes are amazing.)

Penelope seems to be the only one rather concerned, but Portia downplays it the best she can. I have to give Portia some credit for trying to play it cool the best she can. Because, financially, they're in a really rough spot, and she knows the new Lord Featherington isn't going to be much help.

Portia tries to calm them, though, by stating as soon as the new Lord Featherington arrives they'll be fine.

Prudence is having a hissy fit (her line about changing the chamber pots is pretty funny though) and you see her lash out at Penelope -- literally hitting her feet to move Pen out of the way so that she can sit down. And I can only imagine that this kind of thing is something that's probably happened a lot with her sisters. She probably has gotten pushed around a lot by them, and Penelope just kind of takes it, and moves out of her sister's way.

Portia, though, eventually succumbs to her melodramatic tendencies, and lets them know that the new Lord Featherington is cruel and delighting in their misfortune, to the horror of her daughters (Penelope particularly looks alarmed). Portia continues - giving some backstory, that he cast his son to America because he was upset, and who knows where they'll send them once he gets there.

Portia then goes on to worry that they'll be sent out to Cornwall (which seems to be the far reaches of England). I kind of love Prudence's freak out over it. Phillippa chimes in that they can all visit her and Finch, but Penelope points out that if there's no money for servants, food, or dresses -- than Phillippa isn't getting a wedding.

And of course, this gets Phillippa to freak out -- cause she really does love Albion Finch. (Love story of the ages :D )

Portia then continues her (terrible) attempt at trying to calm them down again, claiming that all of them need to be betrothed by the time the heir arrives, or else they'll be on the streets. Prudence is like - yeah, sure, fine.

Penelope just sits there in horror. Like, the only dude she can stomach getting married to is out of the country at the moment, wtf is she (and her family) going to do.

As an aside, it is interesting -- that she already has LW money coming in. But she basically can't use it for fear of giving herself away. How crazy, to have a solution, but not be able to do anything about it.

And... that's where I'm going to stop for today! This episode has so much Penelope in it! It's fantastic! (I am missing Colin, though.)

#bridgerton #polin #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #polination #the lady whistledown papers

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 2 years ago

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Simon Peter | Homesick | Platonic

Requested: Yes

One evening, you are overwhelmed with your longing for home. Simon comforts you.

TW: Reader with anxiety going through a panic attack

Business in Capernaum is going strong as always – avoiding a pile of sheep dung, you veer right and then slightly left again, trying your best to keep up with Simon.

He doesn’t notice you struggling with the large basket you’re carrying in your arms, weighed down by the bag that hangs around your shoulder, and waltzes through the street with practised ease. “I’m sure that Eden and you will get along splendidly,” he calls your way without turning to you, “There aren’t a lot of women in the group, anyways, so I’m certain that she’s happy to make a new friend.”

When Mary’s poky flat turned out too small to host four people instead of three, they had immediately suggested you’d seek out Simon’s place, where Eden was as well. You have never met his wife before, but you have heard a lot of stories that she is a woman who knows what she wants. Since she has married Simon, you don’t doubt this for one second.

“I’m glad–Th-Thank you, by the way!” you manage to force out, nearly losing your balance but maintaining it, and you nearly slam into him as Simon suddenly halts. Gasping in surprise, you nearly let the basket fall to the ground, but you manage to hold onto it.

“We’re here.” Simon sighs, smiling as he inspects the small home. “I can already smell fresh loafs.”

Before you can gather yourself, he barges inside and reveals you to his wife, who pivots looking startled. “Surprise!” Simon exclaims, and she lets out a sound of delight before embracing him tightly. Rather helplessly, you stand on the threshold, still occupied with not toppling over.

“Uh… Simon?” you question awkwardly when the sound of an obvious kiss being shared between the two of them fills the room, embarrassed with your current position.

“Ah, of course, sorry,” he mutters before assisting you at last. You stretch your back and huff in discomfort before massaging your poor wrists, letting the bag fall off your shoulder with a thump.

Eden’s gaze meets yours and she slightly frowns, not familiar with you yet. “Shalom,” you break the ice, “You must be Eden. I’ve heard so many good things about you!”

Her smile spreads as she shakes your outstretched hand. “Shalom.” she says.

“Eden,” Simon states, “This is our new addition to the group, (Y/n). She couldn’t stay at Mary’s due to lack of space, so maybe she can take the roof?”

“It is nice to meet you, (Y/n),” Eden says, “And you are very welcome to stay.”

Grateful, you give her a small bow of your head. “Thank you, thank you so much, I promise you won’t even notice that I am here. May I?” You gesture at the bowl of water at the door and she nods.

“By all means, go right ahead.” You take off your sandals to wash your feet as she turns to the kitchen counter, quickly gathering some food. “You two must be starving. How was your trip?”

“Long and exhausting,” Simon yawns, “I will tell you later. I’m going to put on something clean first.”

Eden hums in amusement. “Good, because you smell.” Simon chuckles and you cannot help but smile at the way the two of them look at one another before he heads into the adjacent room. Eden clicks her tongue, grinning. “Men…”

You walk over to her and give her an expectant look. “Can I help you out with something? I’ll need to pull my weight somehow.”

She smiles and shakes her head, nodding towards the table. “Nothing of that. Take a seat, please. Here, I’ve cut you some bread and will get you some cucumbers.”

“Thank you so much.” you breathe as you take a seat. Closing your eyes, you say a short blessing to the Lord before sinking your teeth into the fresh bread, humming in wonder. Simon had indeed not been lying when he said her loaves were the best.

“So, tell me something about yourself.” Eden curiously asks, sitting down across from you, “What brought you to Jesus?”

Just when you open your mouth to speak, Simon enters the room again. “Oh, love, I’m starving. Your bread is marvellous, I’ve waited for so long to just have a piece.” He tears off some and puts it into his mouth, and Eden gives him a warning look although shimmering with entertainment before turning back to you again.

“Ignore him.” she says with a chuckle.

“Of course, your husband comes back from a long trip and the first thing you do is ignore me.” Simon says in good humour, both you and Eden laughing.

“I’ll tell you something, Si,” she states, “If you go to market to get us some parsley and onions, I will make your favourite soup tonight. In the meantime I can get more acquainted with (Y/n), right?”

Simon lets out a sound. “Really? Of course, carry on! I’m already gone!” He grabs a pouch of money from under a basket and rushes out of the house, Eden dreamily smiling after him.

It is wonderful to see that they love one another very much and that their marriage is strong, but you cannot help but feel a pang of envy; not that you necessarily want a partner of your own, but rather that you miss your own family back in Joppa. Pushing away the feeling as well as the thought of how your family might be doing, you take a deep breath and force a smile on your features, turning your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“So,” you murmur, “What would you like to know?”

That evening, Andrew is over for dinner. Together with Eden, you’ve prepared the food, and the guys are messing around in typical boyish fashion. Arguing over who gets the best-seasoned cut of chicken, they swat one another on the wrists as the other tries to grab it. You chuckle at the scene, recognising your own younger brothers in them. For a second, a feeling of melancholy tugs at your heart when you wonder how they are doing.

Would Daniel still be so averse against eating eggs? Is Malachi still stealing your sister’s pickles? Your smile drops – even when Eden scolds her husband as well as her brother-in-law before taking the chicken and giving it to you, you have to force a grateful smile – and your shoulders slump as everyone starts eating after saying the prayers out loud.

Prodding around through your food, your mind is occupied with your family back home. Did they miss you at all? What if something tragic had happened to them? Your heart leaps inside your chest at the idea. All seven of them could be dead in their beds and nobody would bring you the news, for nobody knew where you were.

Dropping the spoon you had been using to scoop some carrots onto your plate drops inside the bowl, and three concerned pairs of eyes find you, their conversation pausing at the disturbance. “Sorry about that,” you apologise breathlessly, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright,” Eden says, “So, now that we’ve talked about Andrew’s experiences for a bit, I’m curious to know more about your family back home. Do you have any siblings that are fighting as much as these two are?” She nods towards the two men sitting across from you and you wryly smile.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, “And worse. I’ve got four more siblings, and… I–I don’t want to talk about it.”

Andrew frowns. “Why not?”

You avoid his gaze and put a few slices of carrot into your mouth to occupy yourself. Your mind runs rampant with horrifying scenarios of your entire family stuck inside a house fire whilst you’re here enjoying dinner with a few friends who do have their family with them.

“Are you okay?” Eden asks, “Let me get you some more wine.” She stands and takes your cup before turning to the kitchen counter for a refill.

Images of your parents crying outside of the burnt-down house.

Ideas of your siblings having lost their jobs and no longer able to provide for their children.

A heartbreaking notion of your nephews and nieces crying for their parents, killed by Roman soldiers.

You cannot stop the pictures conjured by your own mind.

Your head feels hazy and her words fall on deaf ears. You slowly rise from your seat, Andrew likely calling your name although his voice is a blur, and with a hitching breath, you rush out of the house barefoot, not even thinking about your sandals.

The stones of the road sting underneath your soles as you make your way through a dark and empty Capernaum, unfamiliar with the village, and you turn a few corners, running as far as you can from that wonderful family who had welcomed you into their home. Although the married couple had been nothing but kind to invite you, guilt tugged at your heart that you would allow yourself to find comfort whilst you had no idea how your parents were, your siblings and their offspring, if they even had food on their tables tonight.

You keep running through a few alleyways, stumbling into barrels and ignoring worried glances of the townspeople, tears streaming down your cheeks as your lungs burn. The only thing you know right now is how to run, your head spinning with terrifying visions.

At last, your legs give out underneath you, and you slump against the nearest wall, hidden inside an alleyway. Gasping for oxygen, you attempt to catch your breath, clawing at your throat as your body begins to uncontrollably tremble. Whilst shaking your head, you curl up into a ball, hugging your knees tight to your chest.

Rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort yourself, you don’t hear a set of approaching footsteps until Simon’s voice reaches your ears and sets off another flurry of panic.

“(Y/n), are you– Woah, easy, friend, breathe easy, it’s okay.” Without hesitation, he sinks down on his knees and opens up his arms, “I’m here for you.”

For a moment, you sob, restraining yourself from accepting the oh-so-welcome embrace, shaking your head frantically. “No-No, I want to go h-home! I need to go home! My–My parents, my si–siblings, what if they’re— They’re— D-Dead?!”

Although you feel like your sentences are disjointed and incomprehensible, Simon clicks his tongue in worry and once again offers you a hug. “It’s okay to feel that way (Y/n), but they are okay. Everyone is okay, really.”

“I can’t— Can’t! They need– Protection– How can I— I’m here! Why am I here?!”

Simon sighs sorrowfully, shifting in his position before putting a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, (Y/n), your family is doing fine.”

“H-How can—No!” you snap, “They– Dead! I should— I need to–”

He shakes his head slowly and gestures to you again into his embrace. You finally accept it this time, your entire form shaking from how you feel and how vivid the images are as well as how cold the ground is at this time of day. Simon doesn’t seem to pay it any mind, instead patiently holds you like a brother would to his little sister, shushing you until your heartbeat starts to settle at last.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, (Y/n). I wish there was something I could do to take this pain away from you.”

Sniffling, you rub dry your face on your sleeve. “I just miss them so much!” you whimper meekly. “Seeing your family be so happy… How can I allow myself to enjoy my time here when I don’t know how they’re doing back in Joppa?”

Simon rubs gentle circles over your back to comfort you and hums. “They are just going about their days, I’m sure of it.” he tells you, “And… I could ask Jesus if He would be okay with us taking a little detour or if we have a break soon. That way, we could travel to Joppa so that you can see your family for a few days.”

With watery eyes, you gaze up at your friend. “Really?” you squeak, the final real smile of the evening spreading over your features. Simon nods in determination.

“Of course,” he says, “We can go there together, maybe bring Eden and the other women. I have never met your siblings before and I truly wonder if your brothers are as bad as Andrew and I.”

You cannot help but laugh, which causes Simon to smile.

“Thank you.” you murmur, “For looking out for me.”

“You’re my friend,” Simon explains, “It’s what friends do.”

Your bottom lip trembles, but this time around the tears are out of gratitude rather than panic, and you hug the former fisherman tightly.

“Shall we head back home?” Simon suggests after a minute of silence, “It’s cold here, and Eden has chopped up some fresh fruits that need to be eaten soon.”

Smiling, you nod and take his outstretched hand. After helping you up, Simon wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a side-hug. “It is okay to be homesick from time to time,” he says, “As long as you don’t let it consume you.”

“I won’t,” you promise, “Thank you, Simon, for everything.”

“Anytime, (Y/n),” he tells you, and the two of you head back to the house where Eden and Andrew are waiting for you to return, more than glad to welcome and comfort you in your worries.

#the chosen x reader #reader insert #x reader #the chosen #the chosen simon peter #simon peter x reader #chosen x reader

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thelibrarylesstrektraveled · 2 years ago

Text

Nightingale Chapter Seventeen - All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Seventeen: All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Word Count: 5279

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing! Author's Additional Notes: This is it. The last chapter. The Conclusion to my story! (There will be an epilogue to follow) I started this over a year and a half ago, and here we are, finished!! There were plenty of times I wondered if I'd ever get there. But with the steadfast encouragement of all of you, I found the inspiration and the drive. Thank all of you who read this and showered me with love. I am forever grateful!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

Jensen checked his watch again while he tapped his fingers against his leg trying to rid himself of the anxious energy. You’d been in the restroom for fifteen minutes and while women tended to take longer in the bathroom, it was unusual for you. Other girls had come and gone in that time, and he was beginning to worry. Deciding to hell with it, he knocked loudly to announce himself and entered.

“Y/N? Sweetheart? The play is starting…”

The room was empty and something about the eerie silence sent an ominous chill down his spine. Not a trace of you anywhere, as if you’d evaporated into thin air! Desperate, he pushed open the stall doors and last one revealed a woman crumpled against the wall. He recognized the scuffed sneakers as your favorites and the denim jacket with the frayed sleeves. And the fall of golden hair.

Frantic, he dropped to his knees, “Y/N! Baby?!”

He grabbed hold of your shoulder and pulled. Your head rolled back and revealed a deeply slit throat and a stranger’s face.

Dead. He could tell it at a glance, but it wasn’t you! The poor soul had been dressed in your clothes and a very convincing blonde wig.

“Shit!” Jensen scrambled to his feet and burst out of the room. He frantically searched the crowd of people while dialing his emergency number.

“Solomon.”

“She’s gone! She’s gone, you son of a bitch! You said she was safe!”

“We show Y/N in the ladies’ room on the east end of the pavilion.”

“Her clothes are there along with a fucking dead body! He’s got her! Fuck!”

“Stay where you are,” the agent barked through the phone while people shuffled in the background.

He took off at a jog, trying to scan the faces for yours, “Like hell I will!”

“That’s an order, Ackles! I need details, not another missing person. I have agents converging on your location.”

Jensen ended the call and tried your number. It rang several times then went to voicemail. “Sweetheart, if you get this, just hang on. I’m coming. I swear to God… I’m coming to get you.”

Consciousness came to you in fragments. Different parts of your body were numb. There was a pins and needles feeling that came with having been in one position for too long. Your eyes felt dry and raw, although you hadn’t opened them yet. Your throat felt the same and there was a really unpleasant smell coming from somewhere. An artificial and over-powering cherry scent mixed with sour sweat. Suddenly, your whole frame was jolted, and the side of your head connected with something cold and hard. It was enough to pull you out of the semi-conscious daze you’d been in, your eyes popped open as your head bounced off the passenger side window.

You sat more upright with a groan and rubbed your head, “What…?”

This wasn’t Jensen’s car. The dashboard was faded blue and cracked from the sun. An ancient radio with silver knobs played an old song from the sixties. The cardboard cherry air freshener swinging from the rearview was at least partly to blame for the oppressive stench. The man in the driver’s seat was to blame for the rest.

“Pharmaceuticals have come such a long way, haven’t they? That little trip was courtesy of a new and very effective benzodiazepine. Administered through absorption through the skin. Remarkable. It’s hung up in clinical trials, but those of us with connections can still have our fun.”

Your gaze slid to the man behind the wheel and your stomach knotted. Now that he had his glasses on and his hair was brushed back from his face, he looked much like he did back in New York. Large, hawk-like nose. Sharp cheekbones, eyebrows like dark slashes over nearly black eyes.

“Of course, the best part is that although you looked like a drunk sorority girl, you were still wide awake inside,” his lips pulled into a disturbing grin. “Hate for you to miss out.”

He was right. You’d been awake while he and that girl stripped you naked and dressed you in her clothes. You’d been useless to fight them as they pulled a wig down on your head. You were trapped in your own body, only able to witness the horror has he killed her right in front of you. In your mind, you screamed while he seamlessly ushered you past Jensen and into the crowd. Right under the noses of the undercover agents who were meant to protect you.

You forced your mind to focus. Agent Solomon had gone over countless scenarios with you, and this was one of them. You quickly took inventory and noted that every scrap of clothing had been removed or replaced. Your tracking monitor, your cell phone, your pepper spray and pocketknife. Anything that might have been useful was long gone.

Except the blue paisley tie Jensen wrapped around your wrist. You could still feel the cool silk against your skin. Your tether to him and a reminder that you still had access to one thing that might help you. The fourth wall. The stage was set, and this was just another part to play. If you gave a convincing enough performance, you might just come out of this alive.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked as you pulled the frayed seatbelt over your shoulder and secured it.

“Tsk, Tsk! Telling would ruin the surprise, and you know how much I love a good surprise.”

You scanned the scenery whizzing past and found it unfamiliar. A two-lane road cut through thick woodland as the sun began to set. No signs other than the occasional mile marker and warnings about rockslides. Your ears popped, confirming you were headed to higher elevation and farther away from civilization.

Show time.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” You ripped the auburn-colored wig from your head and tossed it to the floor.

“Do you want me to?” he returned, patting the handgun in his lap.

Panic tried to rise like bile in your throat. You pushed it down and snatched the half full pack of cigarettes from the dash.

“What I want is to wake up safe at home with a beer and left-over pizza in the fridge, but we don’t always get what we want.”

“Beer and pizza,” Arthur repeated with a scoff. “Sophistication never was your strong suit, Y/N. One of Colin’s many grievances about you.”

“What I lacked in sophistication, I made up for in eagerness.” You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, “I certainly never heard any complaints about that.”

“Slut. Useless whore. No wonder you shacked up with a Hollywood scumbag like Ackles. You probably fuck him for a weekly allowance.” His fingers tightened around the wheel as he spoke, “Colin deserved so much better than you.”

“Someone like you, I suppose.” You barked out a laugh as Green turned red from the neck up, “Jesus, you’re not still carrying a torch for a dead man, are you? That’s pathetic, Artie. It really is. You know he just kept you around out of pity. Poor little Artie from the block…”

He backhanded you right across the mouth. Your lip split and you tasted blood.

“Shut up! Just shut your whore mouth!” He grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the window, making you groan and slump in your seat. Your vison went hazy, but you kept conscious.

“You conniving bitch… you had to go to the feds! If it wasn’t for that I’d have killed you quick and been done with it. One last loose end… but not now. Now, I get creative. I’ll start with your little boy toy; carve his pretty face up so not even his own mother will recognize him. Your bestie with those cute kids? I’ll strangle her to death while they watch.”

You didn’t say anything, waiting him out as he raged on, “Oh! But what about your baby sister? Frankie. Well, let’s just say she’ll wish she’d died in that car wreck by the time I get through with her.”

With Arthur’s rage distracting him, you saw your opening and you took it. The cigarette was still clenched in your fist. Your hand shot out and you crushed the glowing cherry into his face. It sizzled and he screamed.

He howled in pain, and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it with all your might! The two of you fought for control and sent the truck into a spin. The back end fishtailed, and the tires squealed. The world went topsy turvy around you as the truck went careening off the road with a deafening crash. Then, silence.

“Black SUV, headed east on Market. That’s the last we see of it until it popped up abandoned in the Whole Foods parking lot.”

“We got the video from them?”

“Nada. Their surveillance system went down last week.”

“Safe bet that was our perp. Get the last recordings they have in the database, let’s see if Green shows his face.”

“SUV registered to Mrs. Barbara Perkins, deceased.”

“Naturally. Get a trace on that name, address, bank accounts, the works.”

Jensen had never felt more useless in his life. While the FBI agents bustled around their make-shift headquarters, he was sitting in an office chair. Waiting. There was literally nothing else he could do. They already knew what Green looked like, even disguised as a fangirl. The pics of Jensen signing autographs went live on social media almost instantaneously. There were all sorts of video surveillance of him walking around the park and walking a stumbling girl through the parking lot. It was as if he was showing off. Flaunting his deeds to the authorities who were oblivious to it all.

Jensen felt sick at the thought of how close you were. Green had walked you right by him and he didn’t even know it! His mind kept going to the dead woman wearing your clothes. Blood everywhere. Running like a river from her slit throat. It could have so easily been you. It still could, and that thought chilled him to the bone.

The video was good for one thing though, it confirmed that you had been very much alive when you left with him. Jensen was holding on to that fact like a lifeline! You were smart and you were a fighter. You’d come back, you had to. He had a whole life planned out and every day of it included you. Marriage. Children. Big family Christmases. Quiet date nights. He even planned a proposal in Paris. You told him you always wanted to go and making your dreams come true had become an obsession for him. Nothing made him happy like making you happy. His life wasn’t his own, it was forever intertwined with yours.

In the immortal words of his alter-ego, “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

When his phone rang, his heart nearly stopped. He didn’t recognize the number, but knew it was you. “Y/N?!”

“Jensen! Oh God…!”

Agent Solomon was on him instantly to hand the phone over, he refused. But he did put it on speaker. “Sweetheart, where are you? Are you okay?!”

The connection was tenuous, making your voice fade in and out.

“I’m okay… not… don’t know…. Arthur crashed…”

“Crashed?! What happened?”

Solomon grabbed the phone, “Doctor West, are you with Green right now?”

“No. We crashed…. Left…”

“Was he alive when you saw him last?”

“…. Unconscious… don’t…. “

“What kind of vehicle was he driving?”

“Blue pickup… Dairyland.”

“Dairyland?” Jensen repeated.

“AJ… 677.”

“Wisconsin plates,” Solomon signaled to his agents to run a search. Even fragmented information would pull up something.

“Doctor West, do you know where you are?”

“Highway. I don’t… mountains. Jay! Its… otter… Kimmy…”

The agent locked eyes with Jensen, “What is she talking about?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “Kimmy who?”

“Kim… makeup… otter tattoo.”

It clicked for him then. The makeup artist who designed her own tattoos, Kimmy. She’d been quite taken with Y/N when she went to the set that day.

“It’s Mount Harvey, the snow melt on the south face looks like an otter playing baseball.”

“Good. Doctor West, we’re coming to you.”

If she heard, she didn’t reply. The phone screen showed the call dropped. Solomon handed the phone to one of his team to pull trace information while he barked orders. The well-oiled team shifted into their roles. Dispatch communicated with local authorities on every level. One of the advantages of working with the FBI, they were practiced in the art of the manhunt. It wasn’t a question of if they would get Green, but when. And would it be in time?

“Ackles, you’re with me.”

Jensen looked up in time to catch a bulletproof vest with FBI printed across the chest.

“I don’t have civilians on my tactical team as a rule,” Solomon informed him, zipping up his own vest. “But you know Y/N better than anyone, I need your insight. Let’s move.”

You weren’t sure how far you’d gotten or how long you’d been walking. It seemed like forever. That ancient truck Arthur had been driving actually turned out to be a blessing. The frame was good, old fashioned American steel and took the brunt of the crash without much damage. The seatbelt did its job and prevented you from being thrown through the windshield. Although, it dug into you with enough force that you likely had a broken clavicle and possibly a dislocated shoulder. It throbbed like a son of a bitch, but you still made out better than Green.

He was going over sixty miles per hour when he crashed, and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from a deep gash on his scalp and covered in broken glass from the shattered windshield. The doctor in you wanted to check for a pulse, but your visual assessment would have to do. He was breathing, and that was enough. You knew time wasn’t on your side, you needed to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

You made a quick search of his pockets and found both a phone and a handgun. The passenger side door was bashed in, making it impossible to escape through the door or the window. With a quick glance to confirm your kidnapper was still unconscious, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and climbed over the dash and through the shattered windshield. You ignored the pain of the broken glass tearing into your hands and legs.

You had to get out and make a run for it, it was your only chance!

The charge on the cell was dwindling as it searched for a signal, but the fates were with you, and it connected. The sound of Jensen’s voice nearly broke you. You held yourself together enough to get as much information out as you could before the call dropped.

“No, no damn it!” Your fingers shook as you tried to call again, only to be me with no service. You looked around at the dense trees lining the two-lane highway and the rapidly setting sun. Tears blurred your vision and the weight of your situation hit you in force.

There was nowhere to go for help, you didn’t even know where you were! The adrenaline in your system was fading and you could feel the effects of shock setting in. Injured in a car wreck coupled with who knows what the side effects of that drug Arthur shot you up with. You well and truly screwed.

You bent at the waist; your hands braced on your knees as you fought the rising panic. The blue patterned silk tied to your wrist peeked out from under your shirt cuff.

“Breathe, Y/N.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m right here, Sweetheart. I’m with you.”

“He’s going to kill me!”

“You can do this, come on. Deep breath. In and out.”

You closed your eyes and rubbed the silk between your finger and thumb. Like magic, you saw the closet. Warm and filled with color-coded clothes. The scent of cedar and vanilla cologne and Jensen smiling.

“You’ve got this, Y/N. Keep moving, keep fighting! I’m coming for you.”

The actor’s trick worked. Your mind cleared and you focused. Obviously, continuing on foot was only a decent option when you knew where you were going. You didn’t. Which meant it was a drain on your energy reserves. Plus, it would make rescuing you that much more difficult for the people looking for you.

You eyed the woods. It was risky, with nightfall fast approaching, you would have wildlife to contend with and falling temps, but then… so would Green. If he came to, he’d be looking for you. Best to make that as difficult as possible.

“Stronger together,” you muttered the motto that became a mantra. Even though he wasn’t holding your hand, Jensen was still with you. You could still count on him, to remind you what was worth fighting for.

With the gun heavy in your hand, you climbed down the embankment and disappeared into the forest.

“R.C.M.P. clocked a vehicle matching Green’s heading north on 99. Last spotted an hour ago just passing Lion’s Bay.”

“Any confirmation on passengers?”

“Two. A male and a female.”

“Given the timeframe of the crash, they couldn’t have gotten much farther than that.”

“Any hits on the cell?”

“No, sir.”

“Keep trying. If she’s on the move, we might get lucky.”

Jensen kept quiet as he sat in the back of the SUV. The flurry of clipped commands yielded no new information. They were racing towards you, but there was no way to know if they would make it in time. Jensen tugged at the tie on his wrist while his mind worked over-time. Were you hurt? Scared? Running or hiding? Were you alive?

God please, let her be alive!

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. Only once, before the call dropped, but it was your number. And it was enough.

“Got it! Moving slow, heading north by northeast towards Tunnel Bluffs.”

“We’ve got local law in the area about ten minutes out.”

“All units converge on new coordinates, be advised our witness is currently on foot.”

“The assailant is considered armed and dangerous, use of full and deadly force authorized for all personnel.”

The trees on Mount Harvey were thick and grew to impressive proportions. Massive, monolithic firs and pines that held the record for some of the biggest on Earth. Tangles of undergrowth and roots covered every inch of the forest floor, you lost your footing more than once. Every fall slowed you down and added to your injuries. The sun dropped to just below the horizon and the temperature went with it.

You leaned heavily against one of the pines to catch your breath. Your physical reserves were nearly gone, and you knew it. There was just enough daylight left to make out a tree a few feet away. It had an unusual split in its trunk. Limping and cradling your arm to ease the pressure on your shoulder, you poked around in the gap. Mostly filled with decomposing leaves, but big enough to shelter you for the night.

You squeezed your body through the opening and bit back a grunt as the bark scraped your injuries. It wasn’t comfortable, which was for the best. Your exhausted body was already vying for sleep, anything to counter that was welcome. The opening wasn’t wide enough to see much, but it was still a defensible position.

Your frozen fingers flexed around the gun as your eyes worked to adjust to the darkness falling. The weight of it in your hand was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. You were a doctor, you saved lives you didn’t take them. Your thumb clicked off the safety as you committed to the only course of action that would leave you alive. It would be a long night and you were damn well going to survive it.

“All around the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel.”

Your eyes popped open. When had you shut them? The phone in your pocket died long ago, so it was impossible to tell how long you’d been in hiding. The woods were still. There was no wind or sounds of scuttling wildlife. But a child’s song, so faint you thought you’d imagined it.

“The monkey thought was all in fun.”

“A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle.”

“That’s the way the money goes.”

“Pop! Goes the weasel!”

There it was again. Singing. You were sure you hadn’t imagined it, it had to be Arthur. God! It seemed like you were making a racket! Your breathing, your heartbeat, your eyelashes blinking rapidly as you desperately scanned the inky shadows. Why did sound amplify in the cold and the dark? It all seemed to be announcing your location to the man who was coming to murder you.

“Up and down the London road.”

“In and out of the Eagle.”

“That’s the way the money goes.”

“Pop! Goes the weasel!”

He was playing with you. The monkey and the weasel. Cat and mouse. You should have kept running! Should have kept to the road, someone would have seen you. You would have stood a chance! Now you were in a trap of your own making.

“I’ve no time to plead and pine.”

“I’ve no time to wheedle.”

“Kiss me quick and then I’m gone.”

“Pop! Goes the weasel!”

The echo of the woods distorted Arthur’s voice so that you had no clue where he was coming from. Running now would do you no good. It was too late. The son of a bitch was closing in on you now. Would they even be able to find your body? Would Jensen ever know what became of you? You should have ran the minute you remembered your name.

“All around the cobbler’s bench.”

“Arthur chased the doctor.”

“The doctor thought was all in fun…”

God, please keep him safe from the psychopath. And Frankie! Make sure they know I love them! No matter what happens to me… I love you!

“Pop!”

Arthur. Blood, dirt, and broken glass. A twisted grin split his grotesque face.

Time stopped; a shot rang out. Then, nothing.

Jensen stood with the small, second group of agents investigating the crashed truck. Two sets of footprints disappeared into the woods and the first round of FBI had already spread out into the wilderness to join the Mounties and broaden the search.

The report of a gunshot echoed all the way back to the road.

His blood ran cold. “Y/N.”

A hand went to Jensen’s Kevlar covered chest before he could move. Bruce, the iron faced agent assigned to the actor, held him in place.

"Let me go!"

"Not a chance."

"That was a fucking gunshot!"

"Yeah, it was. You take off now, the next one might have your name on it."

“I don’t care!”

"Right now, every resource we have is focused on Y/N. You go out there and those resources get split, cutting her chance at survival in half.”

Jensen turned away, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck!”

"We've all got a job to do. Yours is communication,” Bruce put a steady hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “You want to help your girl? Stay put. Be here and be ready to answer when she calls."

Knowing Bruce was right didn't make the next hour of waiting any easier. It was agony. There was no word. Not a sound from anyone. Radio silence, Agent Bruce called it. He seemed to think it was a positive sign, but it was driving Jensen insane. Each minute that passed brought a horrible new thought. A potential nightmare that could play out right in front of him. And he was powerless to prevent it.

He was past the end of his rope when an ambulance came into view and sped past them. Traveling at breakneck speed up the mountain. Flashing lights bouncing off the trees and rock face.

Bruce held a finger to the tiny Speaker in his ear. A grim look passed his features.

"Let's move."

He said nothing more. No word on if you were alive or dead. No hint at who that ambulance was for. An hour ago, Jensen would have sworn he'd reached his capacity for worry and stress. But that was nothing compared to the five minutes it took to reach the clearing. There was a mass of people milling around. F.B.I. he recognized and a few others outfitted in uniforms for the R.C.M.P. That ambulance was parked off to the side, the back door was closed but the lights were still flashing. Several other official looking vehicles showed up, including one for the coroner’s office.

Jensen was out of the car before Bruce even put it in park. He caught the slender build of Frank Solomon, casually talking to a couple of other agents by the rail guard. The son of a bitch was acting like he’d completed a milk run! Jensen’s nostrils flared with rage as he made a direct path for him.

The young man looked up, seemingly unphased by the Texan’s aggressive approach.

"Ackles.”

"Where is she?!"

Solomon’s mouth opened, but it wasn’t his voice that was heard. A shrill, terrified scream came from inside the ambulance, cutting through the night.

"Jensen!"

He'd spent fifteen years stepping into the boots of Dean Winchester. Fighting monsters. Some you could see, some you couldn't. But no matter how close he was to the hero he portrayed; it was still an act. Though there were plenty of times he’d wished it were real. Wished he were more like the enigmatic man in the ’67 Chevy. The man who always knew what to do. The man who always saved the day.

And yes, he would let his ‘Dean’ show from time to time. That was a blurred line that proved useful more than once. But in that moment when you screamed for him, there was no line. There was no Dean, there was clarity.

Solomon got exactly one word out, “Wait…”

Jensen pulled back his fist and punched him square in the face, knocking him on his ass.

He ran to that ambulance. On a mission and with one purpose, he tore the door open.

You were sitting on a gurney, struggling against the medic who was trying to keep you from bolting. Bruised and bloody. But breathing! The second you saw him, you went still, your bottom lip quivered.

“Jensen.”

The medic proved smarter than the F.B.I. agents and moved out of the way, allowing Jensen the room to take you in his arms. That was when you broke completely. Sobbing and desperately clinging to him like a child. You weren’t sure how you got there. One minute you were in that tree being stalked by a killer, the next you were being bundled into an ambulance. It was so surreal! It wasn’t until you heard Jensen on the other side of the door that you snapped. Reality crashed over you, and you couldn’t breathe.

Jensen tried to will his own panic away. You were alive. He had you. Bloody and trembling, but in his arms. He could hear himself telling you soothing things. Comforting words that he would never be able to recall later. He was sure you couldn’t understand him anyway, you were crying so hard that your whole body shook.

But his voice was a balm, the timbre of it washed over you. After a time, the raw shock wore through to numbness. You drew a shuddering breath and tried to speak.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice coming from just over your head. “I’m right here.”

You released your death grip on Jensen’s jacket and snuck a look at your hands. There were burn marks there from the gun powder. Across the clearing, two men were maneuvering a stretcher over the gravel. A black body bag was strapped to the top.

“I killed him.”

Jensen gently brushed the tangled hair away from your face. His gaze followed yours to the body being taken away. It could have so easily been you. He rubbed his hand down your back and tucked your head under his chin.

“Don’t look, baby. Don’t think about it. Never again.”

The EMT reappeared, insisting that you go to the hospital. He listed a number of injuries that needed attention. Including another fucking concussion.

You managed a weak laugh, “Look at us, right back where we started.”

“At least you didn’t drown this time, your average is improving,” Jensen said, kissing your forehead.

With practiced efficiency, the medic had you secured and ready for transport. Just as the door was about to shut, Frank Solomon appeared. His jaw was discolored and starting to swell where Jensen landed his punch.

Jensen smirked, “Back for round two?”

“The ambulance is already at capacity, let’s not chance it.” Solomon’s dark eyes shifted to you. The arrogance drained away, and he seemed softer. Almost repentant.

“Doctor West, I wanted to let you know that the death of Arthur Green officially closes this case. You are no longer under any obligation to the F.B.I. for any purpose and you are free to resume your life.”

“You won’t need me to make a statement?”

“We have everything we need. And I have to say, without your cooperation and your bravery, we never would have gotten Green let alone shut down the drug ring. This victory is yours.”

“I shot a man. Deserved or not, that doesn’t feel particularly victorious.”

Solomon blinked slowly, “You didn’t shoot Arthur Green.”

“What?”

“Barely clipped his shoulder, but I hardly call that a shot,” the agent shrugged, his casual manner back in place. “One of the Mounted Police got him… Roberts, I think. One clean shot to the head. Green was dead before he hit the ground.”

You could have lived with the death on your conscience, knowing it had been self-defense. But the fact that you didn’t have to, freed you. Well and truly. Lightness settled in where guilt had been only a moment ago. Words failed you. An astonished gasp left your lips, and you let you head rest against Jensen’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Doctor West. Mr. Ackles.” Solomon shut the door and thumped it twice.

The ambulance slowly rolled away to begin its descent down the mountain. Jensen’s hand found yours under the emergency blanket tucked over your lap.

“It’s over.”

“Yeah, it’s all over, Sweetheart” he murmured, kissing your temple.

You and Jensen would talk about the incredible circumstances of how you got together often over the years. You would muse on the workings of fate and God’s grand plan. You would wonder at the impossibility of it all.

Surely, there must have been an easier way for two lost souls to meet.

But then, meeting wouldn’t have been enough. The two of you were drowning; separately but equally. The miserable details of your own lives were pulling you under like a riptide. It was so all-consuming that you couldn’t break free. You weren’t strong enough, not alone.

It was like Jensen said that day in your old apartment, make a different choice. The two of you chose to save each other. But you also chose to let yourself to be saved. It wasn’t passive and it wasn’t by chance. It was a decision. Perhaps not always an easy one, but it had power.

Love does conquer all, but only if you choose it. TagList @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseubyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @deanwwinchester

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #spn fic #supernatural #Nightingale

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trektraveler · 2 years ago

Text

Nightingale Chapter Seventeen - All Around the Cobbler's Bench

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Seventeen: All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Word Count: 5279

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

Series Masterlist

“Y/N? Sweetheart? The play is starting…”

Frantic, he dropped to his knees, “Y/N! Baby?!”

He grabbed hold of your shoulder and pulled. Your head rolled back and revealed a deeply slit throat and a stranger’s face.

Dead. He could tell it at a glance, but it wasn’t you! The poor soul had been dressed in your clothes and a very convincing blonde wig.

“Shit!” Jensen scrambled to his feet and burst out of the room. He frantically searched the crowd of people while dialing his emergency number.

“Solomon.”

“She’s gone! She’s gone, you son of a bitch! You said she was safe!”

“We show Y/N in the ladies’ room on the east end of the pavilion.”

“Her clothes are there along with a fucking dead body! He’s got her! Fuck!”

“Stay where you are,” the agent barked through the phone while people shuffled in the background.

He took off at a jog, trying to scan the faces for yours, “Like hell I will!”

��That’s an order, Ackles! I need details, not another missing person. I have agents converging on your location.”