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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

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Blind Spot

Spencer Reid x (Gender Neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2640

Warnings: Hair pulling kink! Bucketloads of sexual tension but no actual sex. Gratuitous facts about bird nests. Dorks being oblivious. Lots of fluffy heart-eyed banter. Accusations of intercourse with fictional tree-beasts.

A/N: I saw a gif that made me want to pull Spencer’s hair. That’s it. I have zero shame.

For the “friends to lovers” square on my @cmbingo card! Proofread by @fangirlxwritesx67 because she’s the best.

“You look like you fucked an Ent,” you commented cheerfully, stealing sideways glances at Spencer while you waited for the light to change.

“Thanks, that’s helpful.” He grimaced, trying to tug another burr out of a snarled curl.

“Oh my god, you’re just making it worse! I’ll help you when we get back to your place. Leave it, you goober.”

“Did you just call me a goober?” Spencer asked, trying not to laugh.

“You’re like the dictionary definition of a goober,” you said fondly.

“I have three PhDs!”

“I really wish I’d gotten a video of that tumble, Doctor Goober.”

Spencer was blushing, grinning down at his lap as he shredded a piece of leaf. It was hard not to stare at him when he smiled like that.

He’d essentially face-planted into a burr bush earlier, somewhere in the Virginia woods — he’d been so excited about explaining some wonky bit of Star Trek physics theory to you that he just forgot to pay attention to his feet — and he’d floundered out with half a hedge stuck in his hair before picking up exactly where he’d left off.

In other words, Doctor Spencer Reid was a ridiculous human being. You knew that, objectively. It didn’t stop you from having a massive crush on him.

Either he was pretending not to notice, to spare your feelings, or he was socially oblivious; you tended to believe the former, considering how well you’d seen him read other people, but you appreciated it. There was a chance you’d make it out of this — if you could just get over it already — with your friendship intact.

You cleared your throat and told him, “You look like the bastard child of Grandmother Willow and the Wizard of Oz scarecrow.”

“Even if they were real, the anatomical —”

“You didn’t mention that when I brought up the Ents. Something you want to tell me about you and Treebeard?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffed, trying to sound exasperated, but he could barely keep a straight face for a second before he was laughing, that scratchy sunny childish giggle that only came out when he was really relaxed and carefree.

“Close the window before a bird sees you and decides to take up residence.”

“How about you watch the road?”

“What, no facts about bird nests?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Nope.”

“Well in that case… gyrfalcon nests are frequently re-used and passed along for generations. The oldest one that’s been discovered was in Greenland, and it was actually estimated to be approximately 2,500 years old.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! In fact…”

You had to remind yourself, yet again, to stop staring.

Maybe someday you’d get sick of hearing Spencer talk, but you couldn’t really understand the way most of your teammates reacted to his rambling. Even if you didn’t care about what he was saying, there was something amazing about the way his eyes lit up and his hands fluttered around to illustrate his point.

You parked in front of his building and followed him upstairs. His apartment had become comfortingly familiar — ever since you and Spencer bonded over a shared love of sci-fi, you’d taken to driving him home and, if it wasn’t too late, sticking around for an episode or two of Doctor Who.

He got his ancient little DVD player up and running, and you settled on the couch, fluffing pillows and shoving aside his nest of colorful crocheted blankets, getting cozy. There was something about Spencer’s space that always felt like home; maybe it was the smell of books, or just the general Spencer-ness of the whole place.

Just being around him had always kinda felt like home, too. Sometimes you forgot you’d only known him for six months.

He disappeared into his room for a second and came back with a comb. It was cheap plastic, missing a couple teeth, and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. You looked from him to the comb and back again.

“That actually explains a lot,” you said, grinning. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of you, leaning back against your shins, and after a dismayed glance at his curls, you commented, “We could always just shave it all off.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he said primly.

You started with a couple of the less tangled pieces, finger-combing carefully through one soft lock at a time. You half-expected some comment about primates and social grooming, or at least a few facts about the quantum theory behind the TARDIS, but Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the TV.

You separated out one of the worst knots, and he tilted his head to the side to give you better access. You were being as gentle as possible, but you knew you were hurting him at the first tug — he sucked in a breath, knuckles going white as his fingers clenched on his knees.

“Sorry, I’m trying,” you sighed.

With his head tilted like this, you could see the muscle clenching in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“S’okay,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s not — not your fault.”

He sat there stiffly as you worked. His hair was silky, where it wasn’t hopelessly knotted, and you were close enough that you could smell whatever clean, sweet shampoo he used. Something about it made you want to hold your breath; it felt like you were too close. Spencer rarely let you inside his little bubble of personal space.

Maybe that was why he seemed uncomfortable. He was usually so fidgety, tapping out a rhythm or twirling a pen between his long fingers, and it was strange to see him motionless like this.

You ran your fingers through a de-tangled section, slow and careful, and Spencer shivered, his shoulders trembling for a moment before he went unnaturally still again.

Spencer blurted out, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

At the same time, you asked, “Are you cold?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the reaction, but after hesitating, Spencer just muttered, “Yeah. Cold.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were missing something. It was too warm, if anything; Spencer had a patchy flush crawling up his neck and over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Here you go, goober,” you said, awkwardly cheerful in an attempt to cover your uncertainty as you grabbed an afghan from the couch and draped it around his shoulders.

“Thanks.” He pulled the blanket down onto his lap without looking at you. “But maybe I should just do this myself.”

“You’re never gonna get this loose on your own, not without scissors,” you warned, plucking at the knot around the last burr in his hair. “I’ll just, um — I’ll try to be more gentle.”

“Maybe just go for it,” he said. “Get it over with.” His voice had gone all high-pitched and strained, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. If this was how much he disliked physical contact, no wonder he always avoided hugging you.

You tried to go quickly, figuring that one quick moment of pain was better than another ten minutes of making Spencer uncomfortable. In your nervousness, you ended up tugging the burr out much more abruptly than you’d intended, and Spencer let out this rough, low, choked-off sound. Before you could apologize, he was jerking away from you, curled in on himself with his shoulders up around his ears like he was worried you were going to hit him, and —

“Sorry,” he said, voice cracking.

— what?

“Spence?” you said tentatively. “What—”

He was still just curled up on the floor in a ball of gangly limbs, but he half-turned to you, twisting around. He wouldn’t make eye contact, though; he was staring intently at the pillow that was on the couch next to you. It felt weird, looking down at him like this, so you slid down onto the floor, hoping it wouldn’t spook him. He shifted back slightly, but at least he didn’t flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t — this was a bad idea.”

The profiler in you couldn’t help but notice a few details. He was blushing, for starters. His lower lip was red where he’d been biting it, and — this was the part that surprised you most — his pupils were huge.

You knew what Spencer looked like when he was panicking, and this wasn’t it.

“Oh,” you breathed. “Oh.”

He looked down at his lap, frowning as he played with the loose thread in the cuff of his sweater.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I know you don’t feel the same way, I wasn’t trying to — I didn’t realize it would be like that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and—”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I don’t feel the same way about what?”

“I know you’re not attracted to me,” Spencer said, barely audible.

“You’re… you…what?”

He looked up, at that, genuinely startled. There was something sweet and vulnerable shining in his eyes, and your heart was racing. You slid a little bit closer, so that your knees were almost touching Spencer’s as you faced each other, cross-legged.

“I thought you knew.” His hushed, croaky voice broke on the last word. “I thought I was being obvious.”

You gaped at him for a second before letting out a sharp, hysterical giggle.

He ducked his head again, hiding behind a curtain of hair, but not before you saw the hurt expression that flashed across his features.

“No, that’s not—” you blurted out. “Spence. Spencer.”

“Forget it,” he said sharply, his body going tense like he was about to bolt. “Can we just forget this happened?”

Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pushed a few curls back behind his ear, and then you grabbed, twisting your fingers in his hair to tug him forward. You cut off the startled noise he made with a clumsy, eager kiss.

The angle was all wrong, both of you leaning forward awkwardly, but it felt like sparks all down your spine.

You pulled away just far enough to get the words out: “I thought I was being obvious.”

Then Spencer was surging closer on his hands and knees, crowding into your space, until you had a lapful of rumpled doctor pressing you back against the couch. He cupped your jaw with gentle spidery fingers, gaze locked on your mouth, and leaned in slowly like he was still waiting for you to push him away.

There was nothing awkward about it this time. If the first kiss was sparks, this was fireworks — it was such a goddamn cliche you wanted to kick yourself for thinking it, but it was true. Your head was spinning. Every pillowy press of his lips and soft slide of his tongue seemed to steal the breath from your lungs.

By the time you broke apart you were panting, but at least you weren’t the only one. Spencer’s chest heaved as he pulled away. He was still staring at your mouth like he couldn’t help himself. Part of you wanted to kiss him again and maybe never stop, but another part of you was paralyzed, trying to process the fact that this was actually happening.

You just wanted to put the world on pause so that you could memorize everything: the way he licked his lips, the smell of his laundry detergent, the barely-perceptible movement of his pulse — you’d never seen that before because you’d never been this close to him before. You wanted to hold onto it, even the less-than-perfect details — the soundtrack of buzzy Dalek screeching in the background — the way you were folded together on the floor, all too-long legs and bony elbows, which was going to get uncomfortable fast.

Spencer seemed to feel the same way. He grazed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, then followed the curve of your smile out to your temple and traced the shell of your ear with careful fingertips. When he brushed his curled-up fingers along the ridge of your cheekbone, you turned your head and kissed his knuckles.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, and you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, holding it in place, feeling the blood and bones shifting under the skin.

“You really didn’t know?” you whispered.

He shook his head shyly and gave you one of those incandescent smiles that always made your heart race. “No idea.”

“I thought you were just ignoring it to spare my feelings,” you confessed.

“I thought you were doing that.”

“I thought you were good at your job!” you laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?”

“I think I have a blind spot, where you’re concerned.” He was blushing again. “But I was so distracted by you that I walked into a bush! How did you not —”

“I’m the one who stares at you all the time like a creep.”

“You thought you were being creepy?” he said sheepishly. “As soon as you started touching my hair — oh my god that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s not the word I would’ve used.”

You tangled your fingers in his curls, tugging experimentally. His breath hitched.

Both of you were utterly still for a moment, watching each other, and the tension between you seemed to fill the air like a living thing. You were excruciatingly aware of all the places your bodies were touching.

You considered all the places you could touch. It would be so easy. You could tug him in, kiss him, melt into each other… there were so many possibilities, suddenly, and there was something incredible about that: the electricity, the excitement, the moment of pure potential in the pause between certainty and action.

Spencer sighed, long and shaky, and you were so close that you could feel the current of exhaled air.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured, with a twitch of a smile. “That doesn’t happen to me often.”

“So you didn’t know…”

You scritched your fingernails down his scalp, marveling at the way he shivered and swayed closer like he was hypnotized. He curled his hand around the side of your neck, thumb slowly stroking the hinge of your jaw.

“I knew I liked it,” he confessed. “But — within a certain context? Not out of nowhere like that. I didn’t think it would be... like that.”

“Like what?”

“Intense.”

“Yeah?”

“But I think maybe it’s just you.” His eyes had gone all glassy and heavy-lidded, and you could barely breathe. “Maybe you drive me crazy no matter where you’re touching me.”

“I can think of a few ways to test that hypothesis.”

You caught a glimpse of his grin, but then he pressed his forehead to yours and his features went blurry, too close for you to focus.

“Never really thought I’d be into dirty talk, but if you’re going to start quoting the scientific method…”

“Funny, most of the time you never shut up,” you said, giddy and overwhelmed.

The tip of his nose brushed yours. There was maybe an inch of space between your mouths, and you wanted to close that gap so badly it felt like a physical ache.

“I mean, if you want me to start rattling off statistics—”

“Spencer.” You fisted both hands in his hair, tugging sharply, and he shuddered. “Take a hint.”

“Blind spot, remember?” he whispered, lips brushing yours as they shaped the words, feather-light and maddening.

“You know, for a genius—” you started, but he kissed you, hungry and sweet like he was making up for lost time, until you’d completely forgotten what you were going to say.

There is now a sexy follow-up here!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message!

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years ago

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So it’s a good hair day, so I felt I would start this post off with this picture. What is going on? I wound back in the hospital again. Why? Because of all things I was drinking too much water, my blood sugars were too inconsistent, my electrolytes were too low, and I kept getting really bad headaches. I’m not diabetic but I’m currently treating myself as if I am one, with checking mg blood sugar making sure I’m not too low or too high because if it does they want me to come back in. Currently I’m trying to find the perfect electrolyte drink for me that doesn’t have too much sugar because I’ve been doing so good about not consuming sugar. (😂 I broke that on Friday, I had alcohol with my best friend, than consumed 15 starburst when I came home. It wasn’t even that much alcohol either, it makes me so weird stuff.) I need to stay hydrated, but I don’t want be drinking so much water like I have been it’s crazy. I’m going like 150 oz. a day. Got a lecture from my eye doctor not to wear my glasses, but to wear my contacts so I’m working on it. I just prefer glasses because I don’t have to worry about losing them during the day or them drying out. But yet I go cross eyed in my glasses.

Enough about my health, I hung out with one of best friends Friday night with her husband and kids. I have missed her so much. We are going to try and hang out more, we promised to be in each other’s lives more especially since we live so close to one another now. She’s one of my only friends who actually knew my Mum, what my mum was like, yet still loved my Mum as the same level that I did. We cried about her together it was so therapeutic, especially with her birthday coming up.

As for reading list we are looking at August for them to be coming back, because I just would feel bad to bring them back right now and go on vacation at the end of this month have you guys missing another week or two. So I would say first week of August. If I start before which I would like to, don’t be surprised, I may share some stories here and there. I do want to make an AO3 list for you guys of stories I read on their while I was gone.

I hope you all are having a wonderful summer, staying cool, hydrated, remembering you are very much all loved by me. 🥰

#ktk update #ktk post #txt post #my face #about me #life update #update

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starofgold · 3 years ago

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Riquet South Concerto SR Card Story: For You, Who Aren’t Good With Conversations

Riquet: Hello, Lennox. The weather is nice today, isn’t it?

Lennox: Ah, hello.

Riquet: Have you seen Mitile? I found a book with really beautiful cover, so I’d like to read it with him. Here, please have a look. It is amazing, isn’t it?

Lennox: Yeah. If you’re looking for Mitile…

Riquet: Hehe, if the cover alone can capture one’s heart like this, the content must be fantastic too! It will definitely be a special feeling turning the pages together with someone, and it will be even better if that person is Mitile. Do you think so too, Lennox?

Lennox: …….. Yeah, I agree. Mitile is currently at Doctor Figaro’s place. After that… Are we talking about the content of the book?

Riquet: ………. Could it be that you aren’t good at holding a conversation like Oz, Lennox? Your talking tempo is the same as Oz. It’s a bit slow.

Lennox: ……. That’s true. I get a bit lost when the talk gets longer.

Riquet: Cain once said that it’s better if we can express ourselves with words comfortably. Furthermore, when one is so tall like you and Oz, one may give off a scary aura that unsettles the other side.

Lennox: A scary aura, huh.

Riquet: Yes, but it’s okay, because you have me here! I have learnt from Cain the way to start a friendly conversation that gets people to warm up to you. I will show you how right away. So, I will do a demonstration. Please repeat after me.

Lennox: Understood.

Riquet: Hey, mind if I sit here?

Lennox: Hey, mind if I sit here?

Riquet: You come here often? Do you have any recommendation?

Lennox: You come here often? Do you have any recommendation?

Riquet: Yes! That’s the way to go, Lennox. Then, you should snap your fingers like this. Huh? Why? There is no sound! I could do it before.

Lennox: Riquet, I think you placed your ring finger wrong. When it touches the base of your thumb, there, there will be a sound when you snap your fingers.

Riquet: Ah, that’s how it is! Thank you so much! Ahem, I will do it again.

Riquet: Cool, I’ll have that too.

Lennox: Cool, I’ll have that too.

Riquet: Hehe, you did really well! Now you can easily make friends with people!

Lennox: I’ll be glad if that’s the case. You’re really good at teaching too, Riquet. It was really fun. Thank you, Riquet.

Riquet: …… It seems that I got the wrong idea about you.

Lennox: Wrong idea?

Riquet: Yes. I realize you are actually good at talking with people. Your smiling face is wonderful too. If you don’t mind, could you give Oz some pointers? Since you two have similar aura, Oz can definitely learn something from you! Ehehe, I’ll go to Figaro’s place to look for Mitile now.

Lennox: …… Me? Giving Lord Oz pointers?

#riquet card story #mahoyaku

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doctorreids · 4 years ago

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folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER TEN - illicit affairs

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

word count: 2k

warnings: slight mention of alcohol as a coping mechanism

a/n: sorry about the glitch !! here’s the new chapter x

“take the road less travelled by, tell yourself you can always stop. what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.”

It had been one whole month since they’d first kissed. The working weeks had gone by slowly -the first few cases had been local, they had all night to spend wrapped up in each other. The smell of her perfume filtered through his apartment, almost as if it always belonged there. Her pillows smelled of his cologne. They belonged to one another. At last.

They hadn’t intended on telling the team, not until they’d actually considered the whole ‘what-are-we?” conversation. However, she was certain that Spencer was forever. He always had been.

From nights spent in both their apartments and small dates outside of town were all they ever needed. Less of a chance to run into anyone from work, he would assure her as they drove an into D.C. Soon enough, small restaurants around D.C became their safe haven when they got the chance. She knew Spencer preferred home-cooked meals though, but she never said anything when he would stop her before they left work to let her know he’d pick her up soon.

The cases away were harder - no chances to sneak from one hotel room into another, nor were there chances to grab dinner between the two of them. She was frustrated. This case in Tampa wouldn’t let up and all she wanted was to be around him.

That’s how she ended up in the parking lot of the Tampa P.D, her back pressed up against their SUVs, waiting for her coffee. He turned the corner and her whole body lit up, pulling the coffee cup out of his hands.

“Woah, someone’s eager then!” He laughed.

“Shut up. I’m tired - you have no idea what rooming with JJ is like,” giving him a dirty look, she continued, “Anyways, why did you call me out here?”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“Pardon?” She took a sip of her coffee.”

“I just missed you.”

Cupid pulled his arrow and fired, straight into her heart.

“Spencer…”

“It’s stupid I know but I-“

She goes to protest but he stops her.

“You know we could just ask Hotch if we could pair together on the next case?”

“Spencer, you know we can’t.” Her eyes are soft, not with pity but sadness. She just wants to hold him.

“Would it be so bad if they knew?”

She paused.

“So you think it would be a bad idea then?”

“No, god no. I just don’t want anything to change.”

He gives her a perplexed look.

“It’s just… the paperwork, the stress, long nights, HR, and the rest of the team. I just don’t want them to treat us any differently.”

He slips his arm around her shoulder and meets her gaze.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less travelled by and that has made all the difference.”

She laughs, “Why are you quoting Robert Frost to me in a parking lot?”

“Because… this is not something that we can compromise on.”

There’s weight in his words.

“We either decide whether or not this, us, is worth fighting for. Sure, telling the team may be the road that few have decided upon but would you simply give up on us just because?”

She reaches for his cheek, brushing her fingers over his blush-stained cheeks.

“Okay. The road less travelled is our road then.”

He smiled and nothing in her life could ever compete with the beating of her heart and the happiness that followed them as they walked hand in hand.

He was forever.

“and that’s the thing about illicit affairs,

and clandestine meetings and longing stares.

it’s born from just one glance,

but it dies and it dies,”

It was cold when she started working at the Bureau, she could never forget it. She had wrapped herself up in her royal blue knitted scarf her grandmother gave her when she turned 16 - a small, juvenile good luck charm she kept close to her.

It also protected her from her new colleagues having to see her shiver from the cold.

Pulling it tighter around her neck as she walked into the conference room, she saw him. He sat around the roundtable, sat beside Morgan and JJ. He didn’t look up when she walked into the room but as soon as Hotch announced the newest recruit his head shot up.

His eyes met hers and her entire world shifted. Something inside her changed when she looked at him.

Her first thoughts were that he was beautiful, criminally so.

Then he started to talk and she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into wonderland.

She was sitting at her desk when he first directly introduced himself.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” She looked up at the soft voice.

“Ah, umm, Garcia told me you were the resident genius. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” She gave him a genuine smile, the first one she had given in a while.

“Well, I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. However, I don’t believe intelligence can be accurately measured.”

She giggled at his deflection.

“Don’t deflect - you’re a genius. It’s cool.” She shot her hand out to shake his.

Watching him carefully, he hesitated and she knew.

“Germaphobe. I get it.”

His eyes brightened at her statement.

“How did you-“

“You hesitated. Most people would return the gesture. I understand though, handshakes pass twice as many germs as giving someone a high five. I only do it to be polite.” She explained

“Kissing is safer.” He blurted out.

She laughed, “What are you insinuating Spencer?”

“N-nothing!” He stumbled over his words. “It’s just scientifically proven that kissing does not pass as many-“

“Don’t worry about it! I was only joking.”

A moment of silence as he lets his eyes trail up and down her body, almost as if he was assessing her.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I wanted to tell you that you can bring your own mug for coffee or tea and to not take mine. They’re labelled, see?” He holds out his Star Trek adorned mug.

Her heart swelled thinking about his labelled coffee cups - ‘who is this man?’ she thought.

“Well, the more you know! Thank you, Spencer.” He turns to leave. “Although,” he turns back, meeting her eyes once more, “I have to say, I do prefer Star Wars myself.”

Derek passes as she says it, muttering a small “Here we go again…” before Spencer launches into the scientific inaccuracy of Star Wars.

As he spoke so passionately, she knew from that moment she had found her kindred spirit. She wanted to know how he took his coffee, his favourite meals, where he goes when he wants a moment alone, what his favourite constellation is, where he grew up, what his family was like. She wanted to know everything. Everything and more.

She could feel the school-girl crush rise within her but this time it was different. It wasn’t juvenile nor naive, no writing his name in red hearts at the side of her work planner. It was pure and sweet, the sound of his voice was a symphony she had never heard before and one she didn’t want to stop hearing.

For the first time, she felt it. That yearning to be close to someone, to hold them, to know them. For the first time, she wasn’t scared of it.

Weeks went by and she started to write down all the little facts he would drop, sometimes half facts if the team stopped him. She wanted to remember them all, even though she knew one day she would forget. The same with his notes, she kept them stored in a memory box she had been keeping since she was little.

Full of little mementos of her life as a child, seashell necklaces and keychains from her trips to her grandparents at Christmas, to her life as a teen, the band of her prom corsage and photo-booth pictures of her and friends from her past. It hadn’t been touched since she had graduated but something told her to store them away, keep them for a rainy day, for when she needed to smile.

One day her crush on Spencer was small, minuscule, telling herself not to hope for it to be returned and the next she felt herself falling.

She was in the middle before she knew she had even begun.

“look at this godforsaken mess that you made me, you showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else.”

She felt like a fool, an idiot, to even believe he would come back.

Flicking through the notes he had written her, she knew she had burnt too many bridges. She smiled at the memories of her first days in the Bureau. She wonders about that scarf. Last place she remembers seeing it was in the back of her closet. She’d practically replaced it with the Doctor Who scarf Spencer had knitted and given her.

Looking down on the rest of the box, forgotten memories of her life pass her by like flickering candles in a dark room. The memories exist in her consciousness but they are not vivid. They are not as painful or as bright as the memories she shared with Spencer.

Her life shifted when she met him, she became Dorthy walking out of Kansas and into Oz when she was with him. The world was in bright technicolour. The world was her canvas and he was her paint, colours she had never seen before.

He was her muse. He was the blues and the purple-pink sunrises and sunsets. He was soft jazz playing on a late, misty Sunday afternoon when the sun is still in the sky but it’s low down, getting ready to melt into a dark night.

There was an unspoken element to their relationship, their own language; how he would drape his jacket over her on the rare chance she slept on the jet, how they would squeeze each other’s hands under the desk when a case hits home, or when he would squeeze her thigh when they drove back to either of their respective homes. It was the brush of his hand on the small of her back when they cooked together. It was the soft, longing looks that caught and knew long before she could ever call him, hers.

Her only regret was how the life they were building together ended. She can’t remember when the language they shared was forgotten but she wishes she could go back and change it. Everything else, however, she wouldn’t change for the world.

Her second glass of wine sat on the cabinet beside her. Untouched and completely still. She had drunk about half the glass. More than she would care to admit to anyone.

Alcohol was supposed to make her brave, fearless. Now, it only makes her feel numb. Something to ease the pain of watching him almost every day. She knows better to not make a habit of it. So she stops.

There were very few cars that passed by her apartment late at night. The hum of an engine pulling to a stop was familiar to her. Although, she knew it was probably just the young guy who lived in 2C. He was almost always coming home late but she wasn’t at her apartment long enough to know the patterns of her neighbours - duty always called.

She let Joni Mitchell’s sweet voice wash over her and took a sip of her wine.

‘Maybe I should look for that scarf.’ She thought.

Getting up for the first time in an hour or so, her legs creaked as she walked with the bottle of Rose and her glass in search of that scarf.

---

come chat to me about this chapter!!

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 1, 2021: Dirty Dancing (1987)

There are two people to credit for the beginning of this month. The first is my girlfriend, who asked that I represent her with this GIF.

Thank you, dear. Anyway, this is one of her favorite romance films, and she’s also not a big romance movie person. She was shocked that I hadn’t seen it, and that’s because of the second person to credit here: my Mom.

That is my Mom in the late ‘80s with her Pomeranian, Pugsley. Yup. This is just the GODDAMN SURFACE of my Mom, who’s quirky as shit. Love her for it, though. But, OK, why is my Mom involved here? Because this is also one of her favorite films. My Dad’s, too, but I’ll talk more about him in April.

However, if you read the Romance February introduction from yesterday, you might be wondering something. If my Mom’s taste in romance movies was so prevalent in my early life, how in the hell have I never seen this movie, one of her favorites? Especially considering the fact that, TMI here, but I WAS BORN TO THE FILM’S SOUNDTRACK. YES. REALLY. HOW HAVE I ESCAPED THIS MOVIE?

Yup. No clue. Shall we remedy that? SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

It’s 1963 in the Catskills, where Frances “Baby” Houseman (Jennifer Grey), a politically conscious young woman on her way into the Peace Corps, is going on vacation with her parents, Jake and Majorie Houseman (Jerry Orbach and Kelly Bishop), and her sister, Lisa (Jane Brucker). The owner, Max Kellerman (Jack Weston), who’s a friend of the Housemans, welcomes them to the resort.

Later that night, Max is briefing the young male waiters and entertainment, all of whom are hired from Ivy League universities. Well...except for the intriguing young dance instructor in the sunglasses. THAT...would be Johnny Castle (Patrick Swayze).

I wanna just say before I forget, I miss Patrick Swayze. He’s awesome, and he left far too soon.

The next night, during dinner, Max introduces Baby to his grandson, Neil (Lonny Price), who’s just graduated from Cornell’s Hotel Management school. A school which, for the record, is the best hotel school in the USA, and second or third in the world. Also, hotelies (that’s what we called them) are CRAZY. They’re an interesting...bunch...

I, uh... I went to CornellMOVING ON

As Neil awkwardly hits on Baby, everybody encourages them having a relationship, despite her CLEARLY not wanting any of this. She instead watches Johnny skillfully mambo with another girl on center floor. After being roped into a magic act by Neil, and given a chicken by Stan (Wayne Knight, which I’m a fan of), she leaves, annoyed and irritated.

On her way back, she sees Johnny’s cousin, Billy (Neal Jones) struggling with a few GIGANTIC watermelons. She offers to help him, and he brings her to a secret house party, where some dancing’s happening. Some...dirty dancing.

Interesting side note here: racial integration! In 1963, remember, so that’s interesting. I mean, if anybody’s a fan of that, it’s gonna be me. At the party, Johnny arrives with Penny Johnson (Cynthia Rhodes), his dance partner from the mambo floor. Johnny sees her there, and questions her presence, to which she makes an adorably awkward comment. And then...they do a dance of their own.

The next day, Lisa makes a love connection with one of the waiters, and asks Baby to cover for her. Baby also speaks to Penny, who doesn’t come from the best background. That night, Penny’s missing, and Neil gives Cornell students just the WORST goddamn name as he very awkwardly hits on Baby. He takes her to the kitchen, and that’s where Baby sees Penny.

Yeah, Penny’s not OK. Baby goes to Billy and Johnny, who go to get her. Turns out Penny’s pregnant, but Johnny’s not the father. They’re obviously quite close, although they aren’t romantically tangled. Baby, coming from a place of much higher privilege, doesn’t quite understand how difficult this is. Penny berates her for this, and it’s revealed that the father is Robbie Gould (Max Cantor), one of the waiters, who’s also the guy that’s been hanging around Lisa.

Baby confronts him the following day, where he states that “Some people count, some people don’t.” He also offers her a copy of The Fountainhead, a well-known book for complete and utter douchenozzles. She warns him to stay away from her sister, then goes to ask her father for money for the abortion. Which, by the way, was very illegal in 1963. She gets the money from her dad, who gives it without asking many questions.

However, there’s an issue; Johnny and Penny have to dance on the only night she can get the abortion. And there’s nobody to replace her...except maybe Baby? Johnny’s entirely against it, they end up convincing him, for Penny’s sake. And now, we get a hallmark of ‘80s cinema: the training montage.

This is a pretty good time to note three things. One, Jennifer Grey is the daughter of Joel Grey, one of the GREATEST actor/dancers ever to grace Hollywood and Broadway. Dude was one of the main characters in Cabaret, for which he won an Oscar, and originated the role of the Wizard of Oz in Wicked. So, yeah, she’s got dancing blood. Secondly, Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey apparently HATED each other. Yeah, kind of a bummer. But their chemistry was SO GODDAMN POWERFUL, that they were able to push through their feelings and do this as well as they are. And third...THIS SOUNDTRACK BOPS.

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I get it. I GET IT.

Something else I get, too. The chemistry between Grey and Swayze really does sizzle, GODDAMN. Over the course of the montage, they clearly get closer emotionally...and physically. And yeah, it’s definitely there. Although, given the fact that they’re from different class backgrounds, it’s probably gonna be one of those stories. Well, OK. Let’s do it.

After a little too much time practicing, the two take a break. And yet, while on a nature excursion, they continue their training in different environments. Most iconically, they practice lifts in the lake.

Yeah...yeah, I get it.

The day approaches, and Baby and Penny have a bit of a heart-to-heart. Penny asks Lisa to cover for her (and I’m betting that she won’t, LIKE AN ASSHOLE), and she heads to the dance gig. It mostly goes OK, but the lift is aborted at the last second. However, the performance is still received well. They leave JUST before an elderly couple from the resort sees them.

Johnny gives her a pep-talk, telling her that she did well, and the music on the car radio hints at their growing mutual attraction. But once they get there, tragedy’s struck. Turns out that the abortion doctor was a dangerous quack, and Penny’s now dangerous injured, in pain and possibly dying. Panicking, Baby does THE RIGHT THING, I can’t stress that enough, THE RIGHT GODDAMN THING, and gets her doctor father.

Understandably upset (and yeah, it is understandable, all things considered), Dr. Houseman forbids Baby from seeing Johnny or any of the others ever again. This situation...sucks. Damn. And Baby agrees, as she sneaks off to see Johnny anyway. She apologizes to Johnny for how her father treated her, but Johnny blames his own social status for it, rather than her father.

Their conversation becomes very real, and eventually turns into Baby declaring her love for Johnny. As a song comes on the radio, she asks him to dance with her. Giving in to his own feelings, he agrees. And together they engage in some...Dirty Dancing.

As the two dirty dance horizontally, the night turns to day. That morning, things are definitely awkward between Baby and her father, who almost takes his family away that night. But, his wife and Lisa convince him to stay. He even comes back to visit Penny, checking in to make sure she’s alright, which Baby finds out once she does the same.

Things are also a little awkward between Baby and Johnny, interestingly. Wonder how last night ended. Well, Penny figures it out, and warns Johnny about the risks off getting involved with the upper class. Which, remember, is how she ended up this way. The two have a tense-but-intimate exchange. Which just preludes this IMMEDIATELY happening.

Yeah, that’s not a surprise. Well, more heart-to-heart proceeds, and they continue to learn about each other’s lives. That night, Lisa tells Baby that she wants to go all the way with Robbie. Despite Baby’s warnings, Lisa simply tells her off, and is generally, I’ll be honest, a bitch. The next morning, though, Baby and Johnny have another dance session. And it’s THAT session. You know the one.

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Neil interrupts, and proceeds to give a bad name to Cornellians everywhere (I’m not like that putz, I SWEAR), and pisses off Johnny in the process. She asks why he didn’t stand up for himself, and then immediately hides Johnny from her father, who’s walking with Robbie and Lisa. Rightfully calling her a hypocrite, he storms off.

And then they immediately resolve it. Which, GODDAMN, do I appreciate. Robbie strolls by, makes a typical crass comment about Baby, and then Johnny BEATS THE EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF HIM

OH FUCK YES. And if that wasn’t enough catharsis, Lisa catches Robbie with one of the high society wives from earlier, as they sleep together in a cabin. OH. YES. THAT’S SOME GOOOOOOOOOOOOD SHIT.

Baby and Johnny, in the actual good and fully-developed relationship of this movie, spend the night together. And are seen the next morning by the high society wife, who had the hots for Johnny.

The wife, Vivian (Miranda Garrison), implicates Johnny in stealing a wallet. Johnny’s about to be fired, and then BABY ADMITS THAT THEY WERE TOGETHER IN FRONT OF HER FATHER HOLY FUCK

She did it. She actually did it. Goddamn. And then, AND THEN, she TELLS HER FATHER OFF AND CALLS HER OUT FOR HIS ELITISM HOLY FUCKING SHIT I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MOVIE. And then, Jerry Orbach fuckin’ starts tearing up, and I AM SHOOK MOTHERFUCKER

And yet, even though the wallets were actually stolen by an elderly couple that Baby actually implicated, Johnny gets fired anyway. GODDAMN. After Baby completely loses heart, Johnny confronts her father, and learns that he believes that he was the one who got Penny pregnant. Johnny semi-tells him off, then walks away.

At his car, Johnny and Baby say goodbye with a kiss, and Johnny heads off forever. I mean, probably not, there’s a good 16 minutes left, and we haven’t gotten to the most iconic scene of the film yet. But anyway, Baby mourns her lost relationship, and her sister actually bonds with her over this whole thing. Hot damn.

I want to punch Neil in the goddamn face. Mostly just because he’s on screen, but also because he LITERALLY ruins the goddamn anthem of Cornell University, by setting the anthem for the resort against its melody. Goddamn you, Neil. GODDAMN YOU. Also, fuck Robbie, because he LITERALLY OUTS HIMSELF to Dr. Houseman as Penny’s former deadbeat partner. As the anthem continues (to my rage), who shows up but Johnny, who comes to stick up for Baby and all she’s done.

He brings her up on stage, and interrupts the anthem (THANK YOU CHRIST) to perform the last dance of the season, as he always does. Despite Dr. Houseman’s would-be objections (prevented by his wife, who has moved up on my list of favorite characters), the two are left alone on stage. And that...is when the song plays. YOU KNOW THE GODDAMN SONG

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Y’know, it’s funny, because this song is definitely an ‘80s song, making this whole sequence pretty goddamn anachronistic, but WHO CARES!? It’s one of the most iconic sequences in film history, especially of the era, and I love the hell out of it. The crowd cheers, the rest of the kids join in, the lift happens, father and daughter make up, everybody dances, I dance with my girlfriend, I LOVE IT! They kiss, they dance and the film fades to black.

Dirty Dancing! See you in the Review! Oh, I’m changing the name of that section, by the way. Alongside a few more things. You’ll see.

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meggie-stardust · 4 years ago

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GUNDAM WING - 2020 REWATCH - 17 - 18

What stands out now:

17. Betrayed by Home, Far Away

It’s cool how the Space Colonies were the inspiration for how the dream world would look in Inception.

Une’s interpretation of “more graceful” means letting her hair down and slipping into something more comfortable.

Nothing can go wrong with a Mobile doll, a mobile suit with no pilot. That never backfires, does it. I’M LOOKING AT YOU EVANGELION.

Une talking to the colonies: You People; The colonies: What do you mean “You people?”

Not the glasses… NOOOOOOO She’s evil again

Duo and Quatre plans are basically like “wait we don’t like OZ but our home is starting to like them” We better go, show them what’s up.

Young Politician: I’ve heard Une executed a number of plans in the past; Older Colony leader: No, no, those were “people”

“So they’re coming home as expected” Was that supposed to be your internal voice out did you mean to say that out loud??

Quatre: I don’t know Trowa’s phone number so I thought I’d just fight really hard and maybe he’ll show up

This young guy’s an idiot. I Love OZ. Eff the Gundams. I hope this doesn’t come back to bit him in the ass.

Wufei enters the battle like a goddamn super model

OMG They still don’t know Wufei’s name?

OMG Trowa and Heero are here HEART EYES MOTHERFUCKER

Wufei is like, thanks for sacrificing yourself, see ya space cowboy

How did Sandrock let him out? Did he go berserk? Is he going to eat the Aries mobile suits?

It’s been 15 years, now we can finally do our secret handshake again.

We have 5 master engineers on our ship, and we suddenly have massive failures. What could possibly be causing this???

18. Tallgeese Destroyed

It’s a good thing we had this space coaster coaster set up, or gettin off Earth would be tricky.

Do you think the scientists met in a “something weird happened to my face” support group, then broke off to build the gundams?

Zechs: Treize, I caught the feelings. What do I do now?

Treize is very explicitly like “Zechs will die” not Milliardo. WINK-WINK, NUDGE-NUDGE

Treize is so wonderful here. I love that he just strolls up and is like “I’ll fight these mobile dolls. You gonna stop me?? Also, if you try, let’s just test the allegiance of these soldiers...”

Strike a pose and make a statement, Treize. Take advantage of the breeze. You don’t even need a Gundam!

TREIZE IS THE GODDAMN BEST

The old Alliance is like: Dibs on that Gundam pilot

Wait, why are they sending out troops? Oh shoot, we should send ours out

I have a question: what happened to your noses? Seriously, guys. This is not keeping a low profile.

Quatre just gives motivational speeches in his sleep

He’s so motivational that Doctor J is like “He’s the ONE. He can bring everyone together” and that’s while he’s sleeping!

Wow that alliance guy just totally sacrificed himself for Quatre, who is now going to just float aimlessly through space

Zechs: Only 70 Mobile suits? I’m worth way more than that???

THE CRACK IN THE HELMET

Zechs: Farewell Treize, I still love you.

The VO of why they created the colonies and why humans are still there is still so poignant.

How did Heero get into this class, why is he reading off a blank paper? What is he doing? How long has he been there? How long has Quatre been floating in space? Why is Heero’s first move to enroll in a school?

SIR THIS IS A WENDYS - a joke that @mpanighetti took to just the right place.

I forgot that Heero was using Duo’s name here. He was like Oh, shit, I only know two people’s full names, and I probably can’t get away with going by “Relena” here, can I? Duo it is then. He’s so bad at this.

Episode Ratings/Thoughts:

Look, I am unapologetically a Treize girl. He is the gateway character into my love of morally ambiguous characters... But he is amazing in Episode 18. He knows how to play the game, and he is trying to get a win for himself and for Zechs, AND he is not afraid to put his money where his mouth is and just walk into a test battle. And damn, the way the soldiers immediately defer to his order. Yeah, I am into all of this. Tracking Treize’s arc and motivations is a big part of this rewatch for me.

All that being said, I found most of the non-Treize stuff in these episodes a little less exciting than everything leading up to this point. And I get that we have to have these episodes that push the plots along, and get the pilots back to space, but after not seeing Duo, Quatre, and Wufei for so long, it was a bit of a letdown.

What I think I remember for the next episode(s):

I think we get into some good Heero-Duo shenanigans (and I’ll be keeping my 1x2 goggles on because so far, I’m not seeing as much of that as I remember from back in the day). And I think we start to get the pilots realizing they actually have to communicate and work together if they want to get anything done.

#gundam wing rewatch 2020 #gundam memes #gundam wing #sorry for the super deep cut there guys #i couldn't stop thinking about the through the roses scene #the random stuff that comes out from these watch parties is amazing

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winterisakiller · 5 years ago

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Get Better - Chapter Seventeen

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 17/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between.

Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for being an absolute godsend in regards to this story. I would truly be dead in the water without you. And thanks to @nonsensicalobsessions for reading over this for me and easing my worry that it was actually just a bunch of crap.

So so so sorry for the massive delay in posting. The last few weeks of December were not the best for me (I was in an accident and was fine save for a few bruises, my car was totaled, and then the holidays) and writing just was not in the cards for me. So in the process of writing what was supposed to be the last chapter of this story I found Tom and Cath had other ideas so here is the now second to last chapter of Get Better.

This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list: @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @nonsensicalobsessions @blacksuitofdoom @just-the-hiddles @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @alexakeyloveloki @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @echantedbytwh

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tom watched as a myriad of emotion swam across Cath’s features, each passing much too quickly for him to truly catch. He could sense the unease rolling from her in waves and, god, he wanted to kick himself for dropping all of this on her. For putting her in such an emotionally chaotic situation. But once he’d started talking there was no way for him to stop all of it pouring out.

It was freeing in a way he hadn’t truly anticipated, letting all of it out. Telling someone else; sharing the dark and broken parts of him with another person. While those closest to him knew most of what had happened, none knew the full scope of the mess save himself.

And now Cath.

“Tom.”

He fought to ignore the surge of warmth he felt at the sound of his name on her lips. It was stupid, so very stupid for such a simple, small thing to matter as much as it did to him. Her blue eyes were cautious as she watched him watching her. He held his breath, waiting for the hammer to fall. It was inevitable. He knew it. Everything he had laid at her feet, the burden he’d hoisted upon her was too much. The only question in his mind was how she would break it to him. She was a kind, honest person to a fault; that much he knew without question.

“I,” she started again, her hands wringing together in her lap. She’d dropped her eyes from his and he knew just where this was going.

“Cath, don’t. It’s alright…”

Her head snapped up, eyes widening as she pushed herself to the edge of her seat, hands raised in an almost pleading gesture. “Tom no, please…That isn’t what I’m trying to say. Please, just let me...I need time, Tom.” They sat in silence for several moments before she slowly pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her purse from its resting place beside her chair.

Tom felt his heart sink. Here it comes. “It’s alright, Cath.” He forced a quiet smile. “I understand. It’s a lot…Too much, even. Just forget it, please. Just pretend it didn’t happen. I shouldn’t have dumped any of this on you. It was completely unfair of me. I’m sorry.”

Cath shook her head almost violently. “No, Tom. No, that isn’t what I’m saying…I just…I need time to process it. Please, can you give me that? I’m not running, I just need to make sense of all of this before I can…Please, just give me time?”

Wordlessly, he nodded and watched as she gathered her things, offering him a quiet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and left. How long he sat in the brightly lit lounge, Tom couldn’t say. He was vaguely aware of Bobby coming in at one point and settling atop his feet. He reached down without looking and gently stroked the spaniel’s head, “Bobby, my lad.” The spaniel looked up at Tom with his wide, dark eyes, yawning as Tom scratched behind his ears. “I think I’ve just blown it.”

—

The cool breeze of the late evening whipped around Cath as she wandered aimlessly down the mostly empty pavements. She hated the way she had all but ran from Tom’s when she’d sworn she would do no such thing. How could she have possibly been so insensitive? Guilt wracked her with every step. But, god, what was she supposed to do with all of that? How was she honestly supposed to respond? She couldn’t shake the way he’d looked at her as she left; the pained acceptance, the quiet resignation. She felt like a monster. A cowardly, selfish, insensitive monster.

She hadn’t a clue what time it was and frankly couldn’t bring herself to care. So she kept walking, one foot before the other with no set course in mind. As she walked, she played Tom’s words over and over again in her mind. All of the uncertainty and self doubt, the anger and self-loathing. So many things that worked to make him the man he was now. Things she would never have guessed in a million years.

Of course she’d known there was more to him than the face he presented to the world. She’d seen bits and pieces of that man over the last several months; she wasn’t naive. But seeing the man behind the curtain, in all his broken and tattered glory, was something all together different. I wonder if this was how Dorthy felt in Oz after the curtain lifted.

Things were now both completely different and exactly the same and Cath didn’t quite know what to make of it. Tom was still Tom. He was still the consummate professional, the warm and laughing man who joked with everyone and took his job seriously. He was still the man who made her laugh and who frustrated her beyond all measure. None of that had changed. And yet…

Her feet carried her onwards quite without her conscious permission. Cath blinked in confusion when she found herself standing before an all too familiar building. She glanced quickly at the watch on her wrist. It was quickly approaching one in the morning. Probably much too late to call, but she’d come here for a reason. And as much of a pain as Lorn could be, she was a voice of reason and Cath needed that desperately. With a silent plea for forgiveness, Cath walked up the stone steps to the door and pressed the call bell.

The bell rang once. And then twice before Lorna’s loud voice echoed through the tinny speaker. “Yes?”

“Hey Lorn, its Cath. I…Um, I know it’s frightfully late but can I come up?”

The only answer was the buzz of the door unlocking. Cath slipped silently inside and jogged up a narrow flight of steps. Lorna’s flat was on the first floor of the converted warehouse. She’d lived there for ages and despite the buildings quirks (of which she admitted there were many), Lorna seemed to love it. When Laurie proposed it had been a given he would be moving into hers; Lorna wasn’t giving up that flat in a hurry. And Cath had to admit it was a lovely place. High ceilings, exposed beams, plenty of character.

Lorna was waiting for her, leaning against the door jam, arms crossed at her chest. “What’s happened?”

Cath gave her a faint smile. “Not out here.”

While Lorna’s neighbors were discreet, it didn’t feel right blurting out anything (no matter how vague or innocent) where anyone could overhear. Not when he’d told her these things in trust. She owed him at the very least that much.

Nodding, Lorna stepped aside and Cath slipped quietly by her. A lamp was lit in the corner of the lounge and a book rested on the arm of the well-worn leather arm chair. She’d caught Lorna reading and thanked whatever deity cared to be listening that she hadn’t woken her friend.

Dropping her bag on the side table, Cath settled herself on the squashy couch (a relatively new acquisition and admittedly a nice step up from the previous model) and turned to face an equally quiet Lorna. “Is Laurie in?”

Lorna shook her head. “Nah, he’s on nights this week. Won’t be back til quarter of seven.”

“That’s rough.”

She shrugged. “Part of the job. We both knew medical school and then junior doctoring would be a nightmare. We just need to get through the worst of it.”

Cath reached out and squeezed Lorna’s hand.

Lorna dropped herself back into her chair, sitting in it sideways and facing Cath. “So spill. I know you didn’t show up at mine for a leisurely chat at one in the morning0. Something’s happened?” She looked pointedly at Cath and raised an eyebrow. “It’s Tom, isn’t it? Something’s happened with Tom? What?”

Quite without her permission, Cath found herself bursting into tears which startled Lorna. Her friend was up and out of her chair within moments, kneeling before the couch with concern painted across her features. It took several choking sobs before Cath calmed herself enough to speak. “God Lorn, I think I really, really fucked up.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” Lorna whispered soothingly as she rubbed her hand up and down Cath’s back. “I know you, Cath. Whatever it is, it can only be but so bad.”

Cath let out a sardonic chuckle and shook her head. “I ran. He opened up and I just…I fucking fled.” The look of resignation that spread across his strained fears tore at her. He’d opened up and she’d done the one thing she promised herself she wouldn’t do. She bloody ran. “God, Lorn. The look on his face…”

“Whoa,” Lorna cut in, her own brow creasing with worry. “Slow down and start from the beginning. What exactly happened?”

“I blew up at him in the dressing room after everyone had left. I just…God, I don’t know. This whole bloody thing has been messing with my head for weeks and I just…I’d had enough. So I just snapped at him. Demanded he tell me what the fuck he wanted with me, with whatever it is we’ve been dancing about for months now.”

“A reasonable request,” Lorna agreed, resting her hand on Cath’s shoulder. “And he agreed?”

Cath nodded, “He did. After he finished with stage door and I finished getting things in the room back in order, we went to his,” she paused and laughed softly. “He made me tea. God, it was all so strangely normal. Like were weren’t sitting down to talk about the fucked up nature our relationship was twisting into. And I found myself sitting there both wanting to know why and desperately hoping he’d run again. It’s such a mess.”

“But he didn’t run.”

“No, he didn’t. None of what he said made any sense at first…He just started talking about that summer three years ago…”

“Ah yes, that was quite the…spectacle,” Lorna added with a knowing smile and a light squeeze of her hand, “And would certainly explain some of his…hesitancy. But not all of it.”

Cath shook her head in agreement. “No, not all of it….He took a while to get to the heart of the matter…God, half the time I don’t think he realized I was even in the room…It all just seemed to pour out. And I didn’t know what to say, what to do…Fucking hell I still don’t. So I ran…I asked him for more time and then I just…I ran.”

Lorna took a deep breath, moving her hand from Cath’s shoulder onto her back and rubbing slow, soothing circles. “So you asked him for time before you left, you didn’t just get up and run out the door, right?”

Cath nodded.

“Then that means you didn’t run. You recognized that whatever he’d said was way more than you could process right then and there and you asked for time to do so. And THEN you left.” She paused, pulling her hand from Cath’s back and using it to tip Cath’s up to face her own. “That isn’t running, Cath. That’s being smart and making sure you don’t say or do something without truly thinking it through.”

“But still…He told me all of this…And I just….” She ran a hand through her dark hair as she floundered for words that did not seem to want to come.

“You just nothing,” Lorna cut in, reaching out and squeezing Cath’s hand once more. “You need time to take it all in. There is nothing wrong with that.” Lorna smiled softly at her. “But what you really need to do now is think about what he’s told you and figure out if it’s a deal breaker for you or not…Providing you both want to see whatever this is brewing between you through or not.”

Cath sat silent for several moments, her eyes dark with confusion.

“Is what he’s told you a deal breaker in anyway?” Lorna asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Cath shrugged, tears welling in her eyes. “I just…I don’t know.”

Several more moments of silence passed between them. “Okay,” Lorna started, clapping her hands together. “Is any of what he’s told you involve something illegal or potentially dangerous for him or you?”

Cath silently shook her head and Lorna nodded decisively.

“Does it involve any habits you don’t agree with? Is he secretly married? Have any hidden illegitimate children? Into anything kinky that is an absolute no go with you?”

Cath fought an involuntary smile. “No.”

“Is he seeing someone else? Sleeping around?”

Again Cath shook her head.

“Okay. Is there anything that he told you that in any way changes who he is as person to you?”

Cath hesitated for a moment, letting Lorna’s question simmer in her mind before finally shaking her head. “No…No, he’s still the same Tom…Just with a bit more substance.”

Lorna smiled at her. “Well, then, that is your answer.”

“But can it really be that easy? There is still so much…God, I don’t even know if he’s going to want to hear a damned thing I have to say the way I darted out of there…” The words poured out of her mouth in a rush.

“If he’s half the man I think he is, despite his less than intelligent moves as of late, then he will. He’s probably just as scared as you are, if not more so. He opened up to you because he trusts you. He clearly values whatever you’ve got between you if he was willing to tell you what he did…”

“But you don’t know exactly what…” Cath protested.

“And I don’t need to. All I need to know is that it’s not going to harm you and that you are okay with it. The rest I can take on faith…And the firm threat that if he breaks your heart I’ll tear him into so many tiny pieces they’ll never find all of him.”

Cath nodded, unable to fight the smirk that spread across her face at Lorna’s threat. She shook her head, uncertainly taking hold once more. “But there is still so much…”

Lorna sighed. “There’s always something, Cath. You and I both know that. And with him and what he does for a living, it was always going to be more than most. But it’s not something you can’t overcome if you truly want to. What you need to do is make sure you are willing to accept that is part of the package deal. That you are willing to make it work.” She smiled warmly at Cath. “Why don’t you stay here, get some sleep and muse it over. See if things are any clearer.”

Not taking no for an answer, Lorna pushed herself up to her feet and headed down the hallway. She returned several moments later, arms laden with sheets, pillows, and an older duvet. “The couch is new so it should be a touch more comfortable than last time.”

Cath snorted, “I’ll take your word for it. Hand them over.” She motioned towards the various linens. Lorna smirked and tossed them. Cath’s laugh was muffled by the duvet that now covered her face. “Nice.”

“You’re more than welcome. And on this fun note, I’m off to bed. You should be too.” Cath untangled herself from the duvet, shoving it and the other linens aside and onto the couch beside her, a contemplative look painted across her features. “Seriously, Cath. Sleep. Let it be for now. There is nothing you can do about it right now. Sleep on it and in the morning if things are more settled, reach out and see.”

With that, Lorna turned and padded down the dimly lit hall towards her bedroom. Shaking her head, Cath pushed herself up from the couch and let herself truly look it over. It was new she noted with a wry smile of amusement. The couch was a decent size, wide enough to fit three rather large men. Covered in blue suede it was far fancier than the black cloth one Lorna had for years. It took the space of moments to settle the sheets onto the couch and get the duvet and pillow set to her liking. She sighed looking at her newly made bed, wondering if shed actually be able to sleep.

Shaking her head, Cath padded her way down the hall and into the bathroom. She found a spare tooth brush, making a mental note to pop round to the nearest corner shop and replace it later that morning. She cleaned her teeth and washed her face before padding back into the living room and settling onto the couch. She closed her eyes, letting her head sink into the pillow. God, this was a mess.

—

Cath blinked as she stepped out into the weak morning sunlight. She’d begged off breakfast with Lorna, not that she could have possibly eaten a thing with the way her stomach had twisted itself into knots. Even the small amount of coffee she’d managed to keep down wasn’t agreeing with her. Lorna had all but begged her to go home, shower, and for the love of all things holy eat something before she even contemplated picking up her mobile and calling Tom. Cath had mumbled noncommittally which had amused Lorna not at all.

Exasperated, Lorna had refused to let her leave until she’d sworn not once or twice but near five times that she wouldn’t call/text/tweet/visit/contact Tom at all until she’d taken care of herself. “You’re no good to anyone until you’ve gotten your own head on straight, Cath.”

As she made her way down the pavement towards the underground station, weaving in between the gaggle of morning commuters. Her mobile felt like a leaden stone in her bag and it took all her strength to leave it be as she made her way into the station, down the escalator, onto the platform and finally into the crowded carriage. Any notion of pulling said device out during the journey home was firmly squashed by the sheer amount of people climbing in and out of the carriage. Just as well, she figured.

When the train rolled to a stop at her station, Cath worked her way towards the carriage door and onto the platform. Brushing her hair out face she stumbled through the station and the final two blocks towards her flat. She climbed the stairs with a quiet determination and once at her door, fished her keys from the depths of her bag. She resisted the urge to pull her mobile from her bag and check for any potential missed calls or texts until she’d firmly shut and locked her door.

Nothing.

She fought back the wave of disappointment that swelled within her. She hadn’t really expected him to contact her, after all she was the one who had asked him for time. But still, she’d hoped, however unconsciously, that he would. Why, then, was she so disappointed with him when all he’d done was respect her wishes? Frustrated and ashamed with herself, Cath made her way into the kitchen, plugging her mobile in to charge and left the room.

Right, Cath told herself as she shifted her weight absently from one foot to the other. She could feel the grime of a day and change still on her skin. Shower.

Stripping as she went, Cath stumbled first into her bedroom to dump her dirty clothes into the hamper and then into the small bathroom. She hoped, however feebly, that after a shower she’d feel more settled, more certain. It was thin hope but she clung to it all the same. Cursing as she fumbled with the shower settings until she’d gotten the water as hot as she could stand, Cath climbed into the shower and slowly felt the tension leave her shoulders and her neck.

God, she was a wreck physically. All tension and stress.

Cath stood as long as she could just letting the water pelt across her back and shoulders before she set to work washing her hair and scrubbing her body. It was difficult, tearing herself away from the warmth and comfort of the shower, but her fingers had long since started to resemble prunes and she knew the hot water would run out soon. Sighing, she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel and padded back towards her bedroom.

Drying herself with quick efficiency, she dressed in a pair of dark grey joggers and a t-shirt that had seen many better days (it was thin to the point of nearing threadbare and stretched from years of wear and use). While things weren’t all that much clearer, she at least felt marginally calmer. She padded back down the hall, towel drying her hair, and wandered back into the kitchen. She forced herself to go through the motions of at least trying to eat and settled on making herself toast. For a brief moment she contemplated coffee but with the way her stomach was still turning, dismissed the idea out of hand.

As she placed the sliced bread into the toaster her conversations with both Tom and Lorna ricocheted back and forth in her mind. Tom’s quiet resignation and Lorna’s surprisingly sage advice. Across the counter her mobile lay, its black screen taunting her. She fought the urge to check for messages that wouldn’t come. No, she’d asked for time and Tom, despite his faults, was a man of his word. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck,” she breathed into the quiet air of the kitchen.

It was clear she needed to talk to Tom but figuring out where to start. And it was just as clear that Lorna had been right (though she would never, ever tell her so. If she let that slip Lorna would be nothing short of insufferable), Tom was still the same person to her. What he’d told her hadn’t changed anything. Yes, she was scared; God who wouldn’t be? There was still so many unknowns and uncertainties. While his career had certainly slowed in the last few years, knowing him as she did now, Cath knew it wouldn’t be long until that changed. And just as certainly she knew how much of an impact his career (and all the attention, press and fan wise) could have on any relationship he had. There would always be talk and while she’d been around the idea of fame for several years now, she had never been a part of it. If she took a place by his side (if he even still wanted her to) she would be in the thick of it and honestly it scared her. And she knew it most likely scared him too.

She jumped as the toast popped up from the toaster and laughed softly at her own ridiculous reaction. Grabbing a plate, she pulled the toast gingerly from the toaster and spread a thin layer of butter over each slice. Right, she thought determinedly, get your head on straight and just rip the bloody plaster off.

Hesitantly she reached for her mobile and unlocked it. She opened her contacts and tapped on his name. The photo smiling back at her from the screen had her hands shaking slightly. He’d insisted that he take a picture for her to use as his contact image and hadn’t taken no for an answer. When she’d given in, with poor grace she could now admit, he’d made the most ridiculous face and quickly snapped a picture. She hadn’t thought too much of it at the time but now…He must have trusted her a great deal to do such a thing. To not only give her his number (god only knows what his team had made of that) but to insist on taking a picture to go along with it. They’d barely known each other at all at that point and yet he’d been completely at ease with it. Funny that.

Shaking her head, she clicked on the messaging symbol and found herself staring at the blinking cursor. Right. Short and simple would be best. Cath took a slow, deep breath and typed. ‘Hey, are you free? If so can we talk?’

Not letting herself overthink she hit the send button and dropped the phone back onto the counter. She resisted the urge to stare at it and instead turned her attention to her toast. Cath ate methodically, not truly aware of what she was eating but knowing she needed to all the same. Half an hour passed with no response and she felt her stomach clench with anxiety.

Just stop it, she scolded herself. He could still be sleeping….Or he doesn’t want to talk to you.

Across the counter her mobile buzzed, signaling the arrival of a message. Her heart pounding wildly in her ears, Cath reached for the device. She unlocked the screen and read the text awaiting her.

‘I’m free. Buzz when you get to the gate.’

Swallowing against the thick lump in her throat, Cath typed a quick ‘okay’, hit send, locked the screen, and padded back towards the bathroom. She grabbed a hair elastic and pulled her long hair back into a low bun. It was still quite damp but she didn’t think she could stand taking the time to dry it now. She slipped her feet into the pair of trainers by her bedroom door and headed back down the hall to grab her bag and keys. With a determined shake of her head she pulled open the door and took the first step into an unknown future.

—

Tom paced listlessly around the front room, Bobby following at his heel. He’d been up half the night, trying desperately not to think and he could feel the exhaustion of an almost sleepless night weighing heavily on his shoulders. He’d told her everything and now all he could do was wait and see just how it would all play out. As much as he wanted it to work, for Cath to boldly declare that none of it mattered and she wanted nothing more than to take her place by his side, he knew life didn’t work that way. That kind of an ending was fiction, the thing he’d seen splashed across countless romantic comedies. This however was real life and chances were Cath would decide that he and everything around him was simply too much. He couldn’t…wouldn’t fault her for that.

Briefly, he thought on just how Luke would react knowing he’d told someone everything. He could see Luke’s face apocalyptic with disbelief at doing such a dangerous thing. “Are you sure, absolutely sure, you can trust her with this? God, Thomas, why don’t you just go and call the press?” Maybe it was best Tom waited to call his publicist…Like maybe the next time he was out of the country. Luke meant well and honestly always had Tom’s best interest at heart, but this would be a stupid, chancy gamble in his book. And one that could leave him with an ulcer and mounds of damage control if Cath turned out to be someone he shouldn’t have trusted. But even if this turned her away from him completely, Tom knew she wouldn’t betray him in that way. It simply wasn’t in her nature.

He’d been so caught up in this thoughts that he nearly missed the chime of his mobile which lay mostly ignored on the side table. It chimed once more before Tom realized just what the noise meant and scrambled to retrieve it. Stop being an idiot, it’s probably mum or Ben.

But it wasn’t.

Cath’s name blazed back from the cracked screen (he really needed to take the damned thing in to be repaired). Along with two short sentences. ‘Are you free? If so can we talk?’

His stomach dropped like lead. Her words had bend short, curt almost. She’d made up her mind then and not in his favor. It shouldn’t feel like such a heavy blow, he reasoned, after all he knew it was coming. But still…

Tom found himself pacing once more. He knew he should answer her. Say something. But what does one say to the person they know is going to break their heart? The minutes ticked by and he could hear Bobby’s whines grow steadily more uncomfortable. Tom paused and dropped himself onto the couch, absently patting the seat beside him. Invitation taken, Bobby hoped up beside his master and rested his head on Tom’s lap. “I’m sorry, Bobster, I’m shit company right now.”

Bobby looked up at Tom with wide eyes.

“I just don’t know what to do.” He quietly scratched the spaniel behind the ears, finding comfort in the silky smoothness of his fur. “I should just get it over with shouldn’t I?” Bobby yipped once and Tom laughed softly. “Okay then.”

Tom reached for his mobile and opened the message Cath sent. With shaking fingers he typed his reply. ‘I’m free. Buzz when you get to the gate.’

He hit send and dropped the device back onto the couch.

A few moments later the mobile buzzed again.

‘Okay.’

Tom let out a slow, deep breath. Now all he could do was wait.

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston rpf #Tom Hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x orignal character #get better fic #Tom and Cath

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janeofcakes · 5 years ago

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Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Ten Feet from the Pack: Chapter 3

Hi, Everyone! I hope you’re all still out there and are staying healthy. Hopefully, this will give a little distraction if only for a few minutes. I love you all!!

***

So while you sit back and wonder why, I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side. Oh my god, it’s a mirage. I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage. --The Beastie Boys, Sabotage

John Watson stands in front of a quaint house wondering what the fuck he’s doing there. It’s been two weeks since his first day in the stadium. Fourteen days since he spoke with Molly Hooper about her suspicions. It has been in the back of his mind ever since as he has read medical records in his office, spoken to the skaters in the exam and training rooms, and even while making dinner or reading a book in his flat. It is especially on his mind while he watches the ladies practice and god, he cannot believe how hard they hit on the track. He has seen hockey players crumple under hits like these and they are covered with pads. Frankly, John is surprised there are not more injuries throughout the year, especially since these are only the practices.

He blows out a breath and takes his hands out of his pockets. John had plenty of chances to change his mind when he looked up the retired doctor’s address and while driving the hour and a half to the cheerful little neighborhood. He is here now. He might as well get on with it.

Striding up to the house, he takes in its white siding and dark green shutters. Many of the windows have boxes containing bright red poppies and small daisies. It’s like it was pulled right from Wizard of Oz and deposited in a Detroit suburb. John steps onto the porch where there is a single wicker chair sitting just to the left of the door and suddenly visions of the stereotypical old man perched on his porch with a shotgun, yelling at children to get the fuck off his lawn pop into his mind. A small smile teases at the corners of his mouth as he directs his attention to the door again and hesitates before knocking. He has no idea what to expect from this man. John glances at the chair again and then knocks firmly. The door opens almost immediately to reveal a man with greying hair and a smile that lights up his whole face. He looks almost joyful. And the epitome of Mr. Rogers, tan cardigan and all.

“I wondered if you’d get up the nerve to knock,” he remarks in a friendly tone. “I saw you drive up from the kitchen window.”

“Um...sorry,” he huffs an embarrassed laugh. “My name is John Watson. I’m looking for Dr. William Wiggins.”

“You found him, and it’s Billy,” the man answers warmly. “What can I do for you, John Watson?”

“Uh...well, I’m not exactly sure,” he cringes, lifting a hand and cupping the back of his neck. “You see, I’m the new doctor for the Detroit Rock City Rollers.”

“Ah, and you want to pick my brain, eh? Some of the ladies are probably different now, you know.”

“Yes, probably, but that’s not what I had in mind, actually,” John bites his lip and wonders how the hell he is going to explain this without sounding insane. He clears his throat and knows exactly how Molly felt. God, what is he even doing here? “I’ve only been here a couple of weeks and I… Molly Hooper...”

“Ahh,” Billy breathes, stepping back from the doorway. “Molly sent you. Come in, John Watson. Come in.”

Moments later, the two men are seated in the living room. John is on the couch and Billy sits in the recliner just opposite. John purses his lips with no idea how to start. To his surprise, the older man beats him to it and cuts right to the chase while he’s at it.

“She shared her suspicions with you.”

“Yes,” John breathes. He swallows and leans forward, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She told me about the accidents.”

“They weren’t accidents, Dr. Watson,” Billy’s voice is stern and his eyes are so intense a pang of discomfort jets down John’s spine. “Every one of those incidents was sabotage.”

“Can you prove that?”

“No,” Billy sighs. John feels himself deflating and he cannot hide his disappointment. Billy shakes his head. “I could easily see there were more injuries than usual. It was as plain as the nose on your face. Didn’t really occur to me that it could be anything other than a series of unfortunate accidents until Molly brought it up.”

John’s eyes are glued to the elderly man and he waits quietly for him to go on. Billy picks up a glass of lemonade from the side table and takes a drink. He had offered John a glass before they sat, but John had respectfully declined. Billy holds the glass in both hands and shakes his head once.

“I was taking a look at her knee. It was a follow-up visit weeks after to make sure it had healed well. She went very quiet when I asked her how it felt. I knew there was something on her mind, but I didn’t say anything,” he shrugs. ”I knew she would tell me when she was ready.”

“She told you it wasn’t an accident.”

“She checked all of her equipment a few hours before the bout. It was all fine, but a bearing came loose and the wheel flew right off,” Billy’s voice is very grave. “Even that could have been coincidence, but her knee pad blew out as soon as she hit the ground. There’s no way. No way in hell.”

“Who were you playing?” John asks.

“The Detroit Demons.”

“There are two teams in Detroit?”

“It’s a big city,” Billy replies. “They are Rock City’s biggest rival. Bouts with them are always the worst and hardest hitting.”

“Were they always playing them when it happened?” John is intrigued.

“No,” Billy places the glass on the coffee table between them. “It didn’t seem to matter who the ladies were playing and that made it harder to find a pattern.”

“Did you consider the possibility that it might be someone skating with Rock City?” John all but whispers. It is a huge gamble. The man might clam up and throw him out at just the suggestion. He had worked with Rock City a long time. He is sure to have plenty of pull with Mrs. Hudson and the staff. One angry phone call about paranoid and insulting accusations could get John fired before he has even started. John waits and watches the doctor for signs of anger that do not come.

“No,” Billy shakes his head. “I can’t believe it of them. Any of them.”

“Did you notice it happening more or less during a certain part of the season? Or in certain places?”

“Not really. It happened every few bouts. Sometimes five in between, sometimes ten. Derby is like hockey, Dr. Watson. There are a lot of bouts.”

“Tell me about it. I saw the schedule for the first time this morning,” John furrows his brow. Attacks on the team with no discernible rhyme or reason leave little room to find the answer to the mystery. How could John find clues where there aren’t any and without Velma Dinkley declaring ‘jinkies’ when one does present itself?

Staring at the lemonade glass on the table, deep in thought, John does not notice Billy studying him closely. The older man wears a thoughtful expression. He is learning as much from and about John as the doctor is from him.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help,” he says finally.

“I think you can,” John replies, meeting the man’s eyes again. Billy tilts his head curiously. When John speaks, his voice is low and deadly serious. “Molly mentioned poison. She said you were poisoned.”

Billy’s expression darkens and he nods slowly.

“She really has put her trust in you,” he says quietly. “Yes, I was poisoned. I made sure everyone was told it was a bad case of food poisoning to avoid panic, but a couple of them knew what really happened. They could tell.”

“Molly was one of them.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone else?”

“No,” he answers plainly, averting his eyes to the table for a moment. “I retired and moved on. That’s what whoever did it wanted and I’m too old to deal with that shit.”

“So they still don’t know?” John asks, incredulous. “Didn’t you think one of them might be next?”

Billy leans close and stares into John’s eyes. John follows suit, anxious to hear Billy’s next words. Knowing the risks, how could this man keep such a secret?

“Someone wanted me out, Dr. Watson. I was the clear target and there was no sense worrying the team. Yes, there were accidents, but only with minor injuries. I had no reason to believe anyone was in mortal danger.”

“Does Greg know at least?”

“Molly knows.”

“Jesus,” John runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath, “someone else should know. Greg or Mrs. Hudson. Someone should be watching out for more accidents. Molly can’t do it while she’s on the track.”

“You know now,” his words silencing John. “Now you can help Molly find out who’s doing it and then prove it. I have the tox report, but it isn’t much good without a suspect and proof.”

“What was it?” John asks after puffing out an almost flustered breath. “What did they use?”

“Cyanide.”

John’s brows raise as he blinks in disbelief. He leans back on the couch for the first time since he sat. He turns everything around and around in his mind, trying to put it all together in a way that makes sense. Who would target the Rock City players and their doctor, especially their doctor? Another team? Why? The answer is obvious. To be on top. To win the championship. But why Billy? Why not Sherlock? He rebuilt the team from the ground up.

The answer hits John like a slap in the face.

“They wanted to get rid of you and bring Anderson in,” he says as a piece clicks into place.

“Maybe,” Billy replies thoughtfully. He gives John a look and narrows his eyes. “You have met Sherlock?”

“Yes,” John answers with a short laugh. Billy raises his brows. John presses his lips together and looks at the old man. He has an almost mischievous glint in his eye. Should John tell him what he really thinks?

“And?”

“Honestly?” John sighs when the man nods. “I don’t know what to think. He’s so easy to talk to and it makes me feel like I’ve known him my whole life. Then he’s cold and distant and would rather do anything but talk to me. He avoids me at practices and basically ignores me at meetings. He’s a fantastic coach though and boy, can he skate. He’s amazing.”

John looks back at Billy to see a smile growing on his face. He looks down at the floor and corrects himself.

“It’s amazing. And the team is phenomenal. I’ve only seen scrimmages so far, and I’m just learning the rules, but they are really good. They communicate so well with all these signals that look like they’re just shaking out a kink or something.”

“That’s pure Sherlock,” Billy grins openly now. “He’s very clever.”

“Yeah, well, he’s certainly good at avoiding what he doesn’t want to deal with,” John grumbles.

“He is very opinionated,” Billy laughs, “and has one hell of a stubborn streak. He can be a handful.”

He pauses and looks at John with a wisdom John has not seen since his mother closed her eyes for the final time. He sighs deeply and his expression softens.

“He gets his signals crossed when it comes to sentiment. He’s been burned before.”

“Sentiment?” John furrows his brow.

“He’s a good ally to have, Watson,” Billy says instead of answering. He leans forward again and looks at John intently. “After what you’ve told me, I can see now that whatever was going on is more serious than I thought. I was a fool for not seeing it then.”

He shakes his head, his face now full of regret and urgency.

“I may not have been the only target after all. You and Molly have to stop it before something terrible happens. Get Sherlock to help. He will face the devil himself for the ladies. He’ll listen to the two of you. Don’t dismiss him as a lost cause.”

“No offense, Billy, you know him better than I, but why would he believe me? He doesn’t believe Molly.”

“Strength in numbers, Watson. He trusts Molly and she trusts you.”

“She says he trusts me,” John gives a half laugh and turns his head away from the older man. He can feel an unexpected low burning anger in his gut, though it is not directed toward Billy. He continues, suspicious and spiteful. “I suppose I should believe her since they’re thick as thieves. There’s something going on between them.”

“Careful, Watson,” Billy says in a quiet, warning tone. “There are some things one should stay away from. Leave it be.”

John looks back at him and then shakes his head.

“He’ll listen to you and Molly, John,” Billy says in a voice of absolute certainty.

John looks up in surprise at the sound of his first name. Billy is wearing a decisive expression and nodding his head slowly.

“Trust me.”

***

There you go! The plot thickens. Anyone surprised and pleased to see Billy in an extremely different role? Haha! Tickles me pink! I can’t wait for y’all to see what’s coming up next. I’ll just say one thing...dinner?

@zentris @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock fanfic #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #sherlock roller derby

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creativenicocorner · 5 years ago

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Quarantine Q&A

Tagged by @bifacialler

I don’t know why I put this off for so long, something for me to think about later I suppose. Hell I don’t think half of these answers are well articulated enough - ah well, here’s an attempt

Are you staying home from work/school?

Yes, I caught a plane out of the UK as soon as the course I was taking was canceled.

If you’re staying home, who’s there with you?

I’m with my parents and younger sibling and two dogs.

Are you a homebody?

Yes, I’m very good at making a burrow and staying put for long periods. As long as I have books, a notebook, a laptop, my switch, and a crust of bread and cheese, all will be well. I will adapt no matter what comes in the future.

What movies have you watched recently? What shows are you watching?

There’s a Korean drama I started watching recently with like time-traveling doctors which has been very cool so far, called “Live Up to Your Name” I’m excited to see where it leads

“Avenue 5″ is...okay I suppose, had to stop cause it was giving me too much anxiety ^^’’ Been watching a bit of “Magnum P.I” as well just, a loooooooot of Animal Crossing letsplays, and Letsplays in general (been exploring Snap Cubes channel and their Luigi’s Mansion 3 run)

As for movies, I haven’t sat myself down to watch a movie since the in-flight movies in my return plane ride. To which I watched “Detective Pikachu” (very amazing very adorable! heck yeah) attempted to watch...well I don't know what I attempted to watch but for the remainder of the flight I watched “Jojo Rabbit” on repeat and kept laughing and crying and laughing. It was a very very good movie, and honestly can’t wait to watch it again.

And I know this isn’t ‘watching’ but I’ve also been re-listening to The Adventure Zone Balance arc.

AS WELL AS

youtube

Clint McElroy read the Wizard of Oz, it’s [ chef kiss ] I really needed something like this - I think a lot of us needs something like this.

An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

A lot of events actually.

The a course I was taking in Uxbridge at the Pinewood Studios, an audition to get into a very prestigious showcase that would have been performed in front of casting directors and scouts, a job at a theater, an apartment, among other things. It...it felt like my life was finally starting to shape into, idk, something. I haven’t been that excited and hopeful about my career and just...the sense of being an adult(tm) since moving to LA.

But it’s okay, this was all out of our hands, and despite feeling massively disappointed and just...idk...a feeling I can’t describe yet, who knows what the future will hold...right?

Time will tell, in the meantime let’s keep doing our best.

What music are you listening to?

Ler’s Amazing playlist from her beautiful birthday gift, it’s been on repeat for sometime and a BIG help getting into certain writing moods!! AAAH Honestly I’m still just blown away!!! UTTERLY and COMPLETELY!

I’ve also been listening to just..random stuff really, whatever that could get me a step closer to writing.

What are you reading?

Still slowly going through Neverwhere, and re-reading Sandman, but aside from that A LOT OF AMAZING AND AWESOME THINGS. I have a server (still in beta that I’d like to keep small for now) with a few wonderful friends that is a bit like a reading-club and we get together and read out loud all sorts of things, from fanfics, to the classics, to other fiction - I think my favorite fiction piece so far is finally being able to dive into Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld properly. [ palpitates over Monstrous Regiment ]

Honestly it’s been such a beacon in the night of my heart

What are you doing for self-care?

Head Empty

No Thoughts Animal Crossing

jfjdlja jokes aside, I know I can get easily overwhelmed, and these days it doesn’t take me too much to feel overwhelmed so I avoid things I know might be a bit too much(tm) for me right now. Be it certain whatsapp group channels or discord channels, or content I know might make brim ‘over the line’.

Keep in mind I don’t mean this in the sense of burying my head in the sand, though...sometimes it feels like just that, so maybe this isn’t as healthy as I thought, maybe it’s just straight up avoidance? Idk...I’m just... reading, playing animal crossing, cooking with family, and taking things that are a bit much (which could range from not answering messages right away, not reading something too angsty, or not watching Broadchurch but instead watching Monty Python for the gazillionth time, maybe not listening to Mitski so much) with baby steps

Take this fic blog for example! I’ve distanced myself a bit this past week not cause of anything negative, but just needing that choice of breathing space.

If that makes sense, does that make sense? Idk, I hope it does. It’s also a bit of a slippery slope for me as I do also have a habit of just wanting to blink out of existence socially. idk...idk...

We’re going to see our way to the other side of this event one day at a time. With every sunrise we’re a day closer. Believe in kindness, no matter what certain politicians are doing and how hopeless it feels sometimes. It’s okay to feel fear, I’m scared every day, my anxiety has never been more through the roof, so I’ll share my favorite quote from one of my favorite Hobbits below. I know there are so many of us sharing these words, but I do feel like we need them, I know I do. I have it written on my board like a mantra:

Frodo : I can't do this, Sam.

Sam : I know. It's all wrong By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were, and sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad happened. But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo : What are we holding on to, Sam?

Sam : That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

I tag whoever wants to take part in this Q&A

#about me #q and a's #Nico Responds #Q and A's with myself

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scaredofthebasement-blog · 5 years ago

Text

When Love Walks In - Chpt 15

Auston Has Procedure for New Tube and Dr Quinn Speaks Up for Auston

1405 Words

Warnings: Cursing

Auston arrives in the operating theatre where he’s given a local anaesthetic. Dr Wright completes the procedure to put the Fenestration Tube inside Auston’s throat.

Auston is wheeled back into his room. He sees Dr Quinn waiting for him.

Alex is standing next to Dr Quinn; both women have huge smiles on their faces. Alex is intrigued to witness her brother’s reaction to seeing Dr Quinn.

Catching sight of her aura, Auston feels like his soul has just been ignited. His breath is caught in his throat for a moment. He forgives her immediately. He is so damn happy to see her. He feels alive again.

His mind is advising him to pull back his emotions, let her know he’s not happy with what she put him through these past seven days, but his smile betrays him. His heart is so full of joy and he refuses to give up hope.

Dr Quinn walks over to Auston who, having just been transferred back into his bed, is being attended to by the nurse. She smiles down at a beaming Auston, and for a quick impulsive second, being so happy to see him, dusts her hand gently over his right forearm as she greets him.

“Well, there he is! Good Morning, ‘Bam Bam’, she teases.

Then she queries the nurse, “Julie, You okay? Do you need any help? I’ve got something I need to do, but if you need me?”

Auston melts and tingles a little at her touch but almost as quickly freaks inside, What the actual Fuck?! You’ve got to be kidding me? You just got here and you’re gonna leave?! Come on Man!

Nurse Julie answers, “I should be good doctor. Thanks though.”

Dr Quinn smiles and looks down towards Auston. She notices that his once happy face has faded.

Shit! She determines. He’s sad. The poor guy is sad! Confirming Alex’s concerns she fumes to herself, I’m talking to Dr Wright, now!

“Auston, I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” She says sweetly but doesn’t wait for him to acknowledge her words. A woman on a mission.

Auston is perplexed as he curiously watches Dr Quinn walk confidently over to where Dr Wright stands in the doorway.

Auston and Alex try to listen in and can hear part of the conversation where Dr Wright tells Dr Quinn about the procedure. She says it went very well.

Dr Quinn is pleased to hear this but quickly changes the subject to what has been bothering her since yesterday. She speaks in a hushed tone, wanting to keep the conversation private. Auston and Alex can’t make out what is being said.

“Ellen, did you happen to notice anything concerning about Auston’s mood this week?”

Dr Wright pauses for a moment to think. “Now that you ask and I look back, Auston was not his normal self. He seemed kind of sad, had low energy and was distant. I didn’t think much about it as I figured it was to be expected considering everything he has been going through.”

Dr Quinn is disappointed in Dr Wright. She speaks respectfully, but firmly, “I wish you had told me about Auston’s mood being off when I checked in with you this week. I understand your focus is primarily with physical recovery, but you must also take into account a patient’s emotional recovery. It’s true Ellen, Auston is in hell, and he’s climbing out of it ever so slowly but he needs guidance. His sad mood should have been a red flag. We need to get our patient’s help when we see red flags.”

Dr Wright respectfully listens as Dr Quinn continues, “Ellen, I received a call from Alex yesterday, telling me her brother has been struggling with his mood most of the week. He asked his family to ‘stop visiting’ for god sakes! We need to be more attuned to such things. We should have been on that right away. Do you agree?”

Although Auston and Alex can’t hear the doctor’s conversation, they can see it, and it looks intense.

Alex observes in a whisper towards her brother, “Dr Quinn is upset with Dr Wright for some reason. Huh, Auston?”

Auston doesn’t say anything. He’s lost in his thoughts as he stares at the doctor’s exchange in the doorway; trying to figure out what’s being said.

He observes, Whatever Dr Quinn is saying, I have no clue, but man it’s hot watching her when she’s pissed! Poor Dr Wright, though. God, I wish I could read lips!

Alex is pretty sure she knows what’s going down. She’s certain that it’s about the call she made to Dr Quinn about Auston’s mood. It was clear over the phone the other day that Dr Quinn was surprised and saddened by the news that Auston was struggling with his emotions, alone. While she feels for Dr Wright, she is very impressed that Dr Quinn is standing up for Auston’s well-being. She shivers from the chills she gets watching Dr Quinn’s assertiveness.

This time, Alex taps Auston’s arm to get his attention and whispers, “She’s something else isn’t she Auston? Pretty hot, am I right, Oz? Huh?... Earth to Auston!” She teases, looking for a reaction.

Auston doesn’t want to give Alex the satisfaction of having figured out his affection for Dr Quinn, so he just hunches his shoulders, nonchalantly. Then to himself, he begs, Fuck! I want to take her right now!

He immediately panics and looks to locate the heart monitor. Huh? Where is it? It’s gone? What the hell?! Whew! Thank God though. Ha! Alex would have had a field day if that thing went off.

Still speaking in hushed tones and oblivious to the stares of Auston and Alex, Dr Wright agrees with Dr Quinn and apologizes for not taking Auston’s low mood more seriously. “Point taken, Quinn. I feel horrible. I can assure you that I do understand the importance of a patient’s emotional well-being. I regret I let my radar slip. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I’ll pay closer attention and alert you in all future cases.”

Dr Quinn places her hand on Dr Wright’s upper arm and says “Ellen, I know that your load is huge. You have been incredible with Auston as well as every patient I’ve seen you help. We all make mistakes. I’ll admit, I make many. We just need to make each other accountable so that we do our best for our patients. I appreciate you hearing me on this and taking it in the way I intended.”

Dr Wright is solemn. “Yes. You’re right and thank you for speaking with me about it. I feel horrible that I dropped the ball, Quinn. Poor guy. He seems like such a wonderful person. He does not deserve what has happened to him. Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Dr Quinn responds, “Yes, sometimes crap happens. We just have to make the best out of whatever comes our way. Sadly, there’s no controlling everything, but we control what we can. No worries, Ellen. Thanks again for being open to hearing me. I’ll speak with Auston and get him the help he needs or at least the help he will accept. I started to address the issue of therapy a week ago, and he was not interested in formal therapy. Maybe now he will be more open to it, or maybe he still would rather just speak with a trusted friend. I’ll find out. I was late coming here today because I was trying to line up counselling for Auston. I wanted Dr Moran, so I called him and begged for him to visit Auston. He said he’ll make himself available when needed.”

“Oh, Dr Moran is a great choice, Quinn!” Dr Wright confirms.

Feeling the urge to tell someone who might understand, Dr Quinn reveals, “Ellen, you said that Auston seems like a wonderful person. What’s odd is that although he can’t even speak, I feel like I know the guy. His personality just oozes from him. I feel like I see him for who he is and you’re right, he is a wonderful person. He’s also very funny. Last week, he had me cracking up with his silly faces and emoji drawings. We have to get this guy talking again! Imagine what we’ll find out about him then?”

#auston matthews #auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagine #leafs #imagine #love story #fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction

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hollymartinswrites · 5 years ago

Link

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Catholicism, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Extended Tozier Family, Medical Examinations, Stephen King References, The Shining References, Doctor Sleep References

Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood. Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie and it turned into a much longer, angstier exploration than I expected.

Chapter X: Richie and Eddie are taught a valuable lesson by their eldest daughter.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Eddie was silent for a long moment and Richie worried he was about to call the whole thing off when he suddenly nodded once. Richie exhaled a shaking breath.

“Okay,” he said and dialed the number on his phone. It rang several times, both men holding their breath, until a generic voicemail message began speaking. “Shit.”

Richie hung up.

“That’s definitely the right number?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. Should we try again later?”

Eddie shrugged.

“You could leave a message, I guess,” he muttered. “I still feel weird about this. Maybe we should do a background check on this guy.”

“We’re not inviting him to our house, Eds.”

“Yeah, but people can find things pretty easily nowadays.” Eddie sighed. “Has Tess mentioned anything to you about this...shine thing lately?”

Richie shook his head.

“She’s been pretty normal,” he said. “She did cry the other day when you left for work but I think that’s because she didn’t sleep well the night before.”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair.

“And why’s it called a shine?” he muttered to himself. “What the hell does that mean?”

Richie shrugged.

“Sounds cooler than just saying, I have weirdass powers I can’t explain,” he offered.

Eddie sighed and shook his head.

“Let’s wait a while and then we’ll try calling him again,” he said. He made as if to leave the room when he paused suddenly. He turned back to his husband. “The other day, when you had her show me her...shine...she said she didn’t want to because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Do you know why she said that?”

Richie frowned and shook his head.

“I figured it was just because you’re her favorite,” he admitted.

“Shut up, she doesn’t have a favorite,” Eddie replied tiredly. “You gotta get that shit out of your head.”

“I know, I know, I’m just kidding,” Richie said, sounding like he was definitely not kidding.

Eddie leaned down and kissed him gently.

“You’re too old to let your self-confidence be dictated by a four-year-old,” he murmured.

“Hey, I accept the fact that I’m second-choice, Eds.”

“Well, you’re first choice for me, dipshit.”

Richie wanted to crack a joke about technically being his second what with Myra being there first but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and enjoyed Eddie’s kisses.

Laundry was one of the few chores that Richie actually enjoyed. Aside from the occasional pukefest (he had learned early into parenthood that kids apparently can only puke in the messiest, Regan-in-The-Exorcist-style manner), it wasn’t that gross, and it was therapeutic to see a full hamper emptied and neatly folded clothes on the bed, ready to be put away. Plus, the smell of freshly done laundry was one of the best smells in the world and he could always convince one of the girls to help him with folding—so long as he put the TV on as they did so.

He was carrying a bag of freshly done laundry down the hall, wondering if Tess would let him choose what to watch as they folded when he heard hushed voices from her room. He paused. Now, little kids did tend to speak aloud to themselves, especially when playing, but this sounded...different.

He gently placed the bag of laundry on the floor and took a tentative step closer to Tess’s door, which was slightly ajar. Concentrating, he could just make out Tess’s young voice, speaking excitedly to no one. Holding his breath, Richie took another quiet step closer and listened carefully.

“I know,” Tess said happily, “I saw. And I’m getting better at it.”

Richie frowned. No one was responding and unless someone had managed to break in and not set off their house alarms, he and his daughter were alone in the house. And Tess, like Lydia, always provided multiple voices when playing alone with their dolls. Now, she fell silent, as if listening to a response only she could hear.

“I know,” she repeated, “thank you. I’m doing so good.” She suddenly laughed. “That’s silly, Abra!”

Breathless and with his heart pounding, Richie rushed towards the door and abruptly pushed it open. Tess jumped, startled.

“Tess?” he asked, breathlessly.

She suddenly looked around her room and pouted.

“Papa, you made Abracadabra go away!” she exclaimed sadly.

“I did?” Richie said, gazing around himself. Her room looked the same as always. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. She lifted her coloring book and showed him the page she was working on. “Like it?”

“Yeah, great job,” he offered gently. He sat beside her on her bed and tried to decide how best to ask. “So...you were just talking to Abracadabra?”

“Uh-huh,” Tess replied, stretching out on her bed and flipping to a fresh page to color.

“What did...what did you guys talk about?” he asked casually.

She shrugged.

“Stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?”

“Ummm,” she said, “school and my shine and stuff.”

Richie nodded. Tess reached up to him with a crayon. He smiled, warmed by her natural kindness, and took it, leaning over to color with her. They were both silent for a while, content to merely color the page. Richie swallowed before continuing, “So, um, what does Abracadabra look like?”

“Like a girl,” Tess replied, selecting another crayon.

“A girl like you? Your age, I mean?”

She shook her head.

“No, bigger,” she said.

“Like Lydia?”

“No, bigger, I think.”

“A grown-up?”

Tess furrowed her little face before shaking her head again.

“Okay,” Richie said. “And she’s nice to you?”

“Oh yeah,” Tess replied, smiling, “she’s my friend.”

“Good, that’s good,” Richie replied. He fell silent and watched his daughter color happily. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nodded.

“Yep.”

“Hey,” he said gently and, with his free hand, tenderly lifted her chin so her eyes met his, “I mean it. You never have to be afraid to tell me or you Dad anything. We love you no matter what.”

“I know,” Tess replied, a mildly confused look on her face.

Richie gazed at her for a long moment before nodding.

“Alright, good,” he said. “You wanna help me fold the laundry?”

“Can we watch Wizard of Oz, too?”

Richie huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, kiddo, come on.”

Richie placed the last folded washcloth on the towering pile of laundry and leaned back. He reached down and reclined in his seat, once again grateful that he had convinced Eddie to spring for the reclining couch last year (though Eddie had insisted they were for old people). Once he was comfortable, he lifted his arm and Tess snuggled up against him, her arm thrown around his middle.

She sighed happily.

“You good, kid?” Richie asked.

“Uh-huh,” she said. She squeezed her arm around him. “I like this.”

“I like this, too,” Richie replied, his heart overflowing with love. She’s finally warming up to me, he thought.

“Yeah,” Tess said. “This is comfy. You’re soft.”

That startled a laugh out of Richie.

“I’m soft?” he repeated, glancing down at his daughter.

“Yeah,” she said. “I like it. Makes you comfy.”

Richie grinned.

“So I shouldn’t try to lose weight and get muscles?” he asked playfully.

Tess looked up at him, frowning.

“No way,” she said quickly.

Richie laughed and leaned down to kiss his daughter on the top of her curls.

“I love you, kiddo,” he said gently.

“Love you, too,” she replied, then brought her finger to her lips. “Shh.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, you’re right,” Richie said and turned back to the TV, where Glinda was singing. Richie wondered how many times he had watched this movie since adopting Tess but figured it was a lost cause. Well, at least it was better than most of the crap they call family films today.

Dorothy and the Scarecrow had only just met the Tin Man when the front door opened.

“We’re home,” Eddie called.

“In here,” Richie replied. Tess cuddled in closer against him.

Both Eddie and Lydia entered the living room, Lydia rushing ahead and breathless.

“Papa, I—ugh, this movie again?” she groaned.

“Tess helped me with the laundry so she got to pick what to watch,” Richie explained.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “We watch this movie all the time,” she pointed out.

“Lyds, I thought you were going to tell everyone what you got today at gymnastics,” Eddie said, trying to get her back on track.

“What’d you get?” Richie asked.

“Shh!” Tess hushed.

Lydia pouted as she glared at her sister. Richie sighed and picked up the remote, pausing the movie.

“Hey!” Tess exclaimed.

“Your sister has something to tell us,” Eddie said, raising an eyebrow at Tess, which only resulted in her pouting, too. “Go on, Lyds.”

Lydia, still a slight frown on her face, opened her rainbow tote bag and pulled out a colorful piece of paper. She held it out for her father and sister to see.

“What’s this?” Richie asked, leaning over as he read it.

“Says I’m the best listener,” Lydia mumbled, no longer excited.

“And most improved,” Eddie said.

“Hey, that’s great, kiddo,” Richie said happily. “You’re gonna be the next Simone Biles. Or even better than her. Not that it’s a competition or anything but...you know.”

Lydia smiled shyly and shrugged.

“Can we put the movie back on now?” Tess asked.

“How about you say congrats to your sister first?” Eddie offered.

She turned towards her sister.

“Congrats, movie now please,” she said quickly.

Lydia’s smiled disappeared. She turned towards Eddie.

“I told you she wouldn’t care,” she exclaimed. “No one cares!”

“Hang on, sweetheart, we all care,” Eddie said, reaching out towards her.

“Yeah, that’s awesome,” Richie insisted. “Tess is just being fussy.”

“Am not,” Tess shot back, annoyed at the insinuation.

“No, she’s being a brat,” Lydia declared.

“Lydia,” Eddie said firmly, “that was unnecessary. Your sister isn’t a brat. Apologize.”

“No,” she replied, suddenly sounding very near tears. “It’s not fair. She is so a brat because you guys love her more than you love me!”

Both men blinked at her in shock and Lydia clearly took their silence as confirmation because she continued, “You only care about Tess and her stupid shine thing. It’s just not fair! I’m special, too!”

“Of course, you are—”

“And she is so a brat, a big one!”

“Am not!” Tess insisted, now thoroughly riled up.

“Are so,” Lydia replied. She pointed at her sister, curled up against Richie. “You’re a big brat and Daddy only loves you because of your shine. That’s it!”

Tess instantly burst into tears, hiding her face against her father’s shirt and wailing. Lydia blinked and, before either of her fathers even had the chance to catch up to what just happened, ran out of the room, down the hall, and slammed the door of her bedroom closed.

Richie and Eddie stared at one another.

Over Tess’s head, Richie mouthed the words, “What the fuck?”

“Okay, so how do we handle this?” Eddie asked, his hands flying as he paced around the living room.

“How am I supposed to know?” Richie asked.

“You have sisters,” Eddie pointed out. “Wait, call your sister. See how she deals with shit like this with her kids.”

Richie sighed and glanced down at their youngest daughter, asleep on the couch. After a thoroughly intense crying session, only calmed down by both her fathers assuring her she was not a brat and they loved her equally and deeply, Tess had done the helpful thing and passed out. Frankly, Richie thought that most of the world’s problems could be solved by naps but they still had a pissed off Lydia to deal with and she was not one for naps.

“I think we need to talk to her together,” he offered.

“And say what to her?”

“I don’t know, that we love her?”

Eddie paused and ran a hand through his hair.

“I think we need to punish her for flying off the handle like that,” he said.

“Well, Tess kinda was being a brat,” Richie observed, wincing when Eddie shot him a disdainful look. “But yeah, okay, name-calling is a punishable offense.”

Eddie sighed, his shoulders slumped.

“Maybe if we can just get them to apologize to one another,” he murmured.

“Perfect, no punishments necessary,” Richie said, standing from the couch, careful to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “Come on, we’re in this together.”

“What, right now?” Eddie asked, wide-eyed.

“No, let’s keep our daughter in her room for a week, see how it goes,” Richie replied. “Yes, right now. Don’t be a baby.”

“Hey, no name-calling,” Eddie shot back. “She clearly learned that behavior from you.”

“Yeah, like you’ve never called me names,” Richie said, rolling his eyes. “You barely call me Richie.”

Eddie looked as if he was about to reply but thought better of it. He merely scowled as he followed his husband down the hall. After a moment’s hesitation, Richie knocked on Lydia’s bedroom door.

“Lyds, we’re gonna come in, okay?” he said gently. “We gotta talk.”

“I don’t wanna,” came the muffled reply.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Richie sighed. “We’re coming in.”

“But it’s my room!”

Richie couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I tried that line with my parents many times,” he said as he twisted the doorknob. “It didn’t work in the 80s and it won’t work now.”

He opened the door and he and Eddie gazed at their daughter, sitting on her bed with a tear-stained face. Her arms crossed over her chest and her bag and its contents spilled across the floor. Richie felt oddly small in front of her angry, disappointed stare. Luckily, Eddie—already familiar with staring angrily and disappointedly—stepped up to the plate.

“Lydia,” he said gently, slowly walking towards her, “I know you were hurt but you can’t call your sister a brat.”

Lydia huffed and looked away.

“Look, she was wrong, too, and once she wakes up, we’re going to talk to her,” he said quickly, “but she’s still just a little kid. She doesn’t always know better.”

“That’s not fair,” Lydia muttered.

“I know,” Richie replied, rubbing his neck as he remembered his own tear-filled arguments with his sisters growing up. “I have a big and a little sister. Growing up, nothing seemed fair.”

Lydia glanced at him but quickly looked away, tightening her arms across her chest. Richie stepped towards her and sat beside her on the bed.

“Look, kid, it’s not easy being the older sister, I get that,” he offered. “And I know this family has been a bit...focused on Tess for the last few months but that’s just because we need to make sure you’re both safe and healthy. Not because we love one of you more.”

Lydia wiped at her eyes and sniffed.

“But sometimes,” she whimpered, “sometimes it’s like you guys don’t even know I’m here.”

Richie had had his heart broken several times in his life and each time he had thought it was the worst feeling in the world. Now, as he gazed at his daughter wiping away her tears, he knew all those other times had been bullshit. He fell silent, unable to put his troubled thoughts into words.

“Lydia, you’re our first born,” Eddie said, crouching down in front of her. “You think we’d ever overlook or forget you? Do you know how important you are to us? To this family?” Lydia hesitated before shrugging. “Your dad, sister, and I would be lost without you,” Eddie stated firmly, taking her hand.

Richie stared at the two of them, awed. Maybe it wasn’t Bill who had the way with words.

Lydia sniffed again and smiled softly.

“So we’re sorry if we ever made you feel that way,” Eddie continued. “But you need to say you’re sorry to your sister, too. And we’ll make sure she apologizes to you, too.”

“Okay,” Lydia sighed. “‘M sorry.”

Eddie stood and leaned down to kiss her on her forehead.

“Clean up your bag and come into the kitchen for lunch,” he said. “Rich, wanna help me?”

Richie blinked, stood, and followed his husband out to the kitchen.

“You handled that like a fucking champ today.”

Eddie glanced up as he tapped at his tablet.

“What?” he murmured.

“With Tess and Lydia,” Richie clarified, putting away their laundry in their drawers. “You knew just want to say to Lyds. I fucking froze.”

“You didn’t freeze,” Eddie replied. “You were good with her, too.”

Richie shrugged.

“I looked at her and just couldn’t...couldn’t find the words,” he sighed. “It was like looking at myself as a kid and I couldn’t even say anything.”

“Richie,” Eddie said, lowering his tablet and gazing at his husband, “you did good. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Riche mumbled. He looked over at Eddie and smiled gently. “Remember how nervous you were back when we first started looking into adoption? Look at you now. Fucking father of the year.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You’re overreacting,” he said, shaking his head. After a few moments’ silence, he glanced up at Richie. “What are you staring at?”

“You, dipshit,” Richie replied, grinning.

“I thought we said no name-calling,” Eddie shot back, a smirk on his face.

“For the girls, yes,” Richie answered, walking over towards Eddie. He took his husband’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. Eddie moaned softly against his lips and Richie was just about to move his hands to his waist when something started buzzing. “Fuck, is that your phone or mine?”

“Yours,” Eddie sighed. “Over on the bureau.”

“Ugh.”

Richie got up and hurried across the room.

“Whoever it is, tell them it’s after 9pm and we don’t take calls now,” Eddie said.

Richie grasped the phone and lifted it, his stomach clenching when he saw the unsaved New Hampshire number on the screen. He stared at it as it buzzed in his hand.

“Who is it?” Eddie asked.

Richie looked up at his husband, his hair disheveled and his face so sweet and inviting.

“No one,” Richie replied and placed the phone back down before returning to Eddie.

#reddie #reddie fanfic #it chapter 2 #richie tozier #eddie kasprak

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