#bobbi: they know i would justify and help him out anyway i can | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hexensalbei · 4 years ago

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play with fire

find on ao3

This is going to be a fun ride.

The silence in the car is scary because itʼs uncomfortable and that has never been a problem before. Buck shoots a quick glance at his friend. Eddieʼs eyes are fixated on the road, his jaw so clenched, Buck swears, he can hear his teeth gritting. His hands are on the steering wheel but his grip is so tight, his knuckles are white. Yeah, heʼs definitely mad.

The problem is that Buck doesnʼt know why Eddie is so furious.

Fine.

Maybe he knows. But that doesnʼt mean he understands. Heʼs never seen Eddie that angry. He remembers vividly when Eddie snapped at him in the grocery store right after the lawsuit—but itʼs just a pale comparison to his rage now. It doesnʼt make sense—because Buck didnʼt do anything stupid like another lawsuit—he just... He just did his job.

He risked his life to save someone elseʼs but he does it almost on a daily basis; Eddie does the exact same thing and yet, Buck has never snapped at him. So why is it different now?

Because you almost died today says an annoying voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like his sister.

Because you almost died in Eddieʼs fucking arms.

Buck tries to ignore it; he has to ignore it because if he doesnʼt, heʼll drown in guilt and shame. And probably wake up some long forgotten demons.

He canʼt re-live it again and again.

When they stop, he realises, theyʼre in front of Eddieʼs house and heʼs genuinely surprised his friend brought him here.

“This isnʼt my apartment.” He blurts out. He knows itʼs probably the dumbest thing he couldʼve said but he doesnʼt understand why Eddie took him to his home if heʼs pissed off at him. Itʼd be definitely easier to cool off if the source of his anger wasnʼt there, right?

“Like hell Iʼm letting you stay alone after the shit you did.”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice that makes Buck squirm. He sounds angry, sure, but also hurt, broken. Resigned. He sounds exactly like when Shannon died.

Buck knows that because he was there. He remembers how mad Eddie was at his wife for leaving him and Christopher again, this time for good.

Eventually, Eddie gets out of the car and goes to the house. Buck quietly follows his best friendʼs footsteps and he flinches when Eddie drops off his bag on the floor.

“You can take a shower if you want, Iʼll make up the bed.”

He knows Buck too well; he knows that Buck hates the specific smell of the hospital and always tries to get rid of it as soon as possible. Buckʼs really grateful for that also because he can simply postpone their argument, just for a little bit. Maybe shower will help him cool off because heʼs irritated too but he doesnʼt truly want to fight with Eddie. He goes to the bathroom, takes off his clothes and steps under the shower. He lets the cold water run down his body and he really tries to calm himself; there was enough drama today and yeah, he almost died so he deserves to have a moment of uninterrupted peace. Or so he thinks. Heʼs getting more and more cold and he knows he should get out before Eddie will storm inside and drag him out of the shower. Buck wouldnʼt be even surprised if his friend did something like this.

Then, with a long sigh, he turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He quickly rinses himself with a towel and slips into his most comfortable clothes. Whatʼs a little funny and maybe even ironic, his favorite grey, worn out t-shirt is actually Eddieʼs and it even smells like him.

Crap.

He really needs to finally leave the bathroom and face his friend but heʼs trying to delay the inevitable by thoroughly brushing his teeth. And then, he doesnʼt find anything else he can do so he goes back to the living room. Heʼs quite surprised that he doesnʼt see the pillows or blanket on the couch because he thought heʼs gonna sleep there and heʼs even more surprised he doesnʼt see Eddie there. He finds him in the kitchen instead, leaning against the counter and nursing his favourite beer. Thereʼs a glimpse of hope in Buckʼs chest that maybe Eddie cooled off a little, that maybe he realised he has exaggerated and his anger isnʼt completely justified. Heʼs wrong, though. Eddie is not even slightly less annoyed and it takes Buck one look at his best friend to realise that.

He sighs again because Eddieʼs anger starts to get on his nerves. He moves closer until he stands against Eddie and looks him in the eye.

“Do what you have to do, letʼs get this over with.” He says with a tiredness in his voice. The only thing he wants right now is sleep, he wants to fall asleep and forget about the whole world for a couple of hours. “If you want to yell at me then be my guest and do it. I donʼt even care.”

“Oh, so now youʼre annoyed at me? Really?” Eddie asks wryly and sets aside the bottle with a little too much force, it almost smashes. Neither of them care anyway. Theyʼre now standing against each other, so close they almost hear each otherʼs heartbeat and they fix each other with a glare.

“Yeah, I am. You act like Iʼve done something wrong, like I wasnʼt supposed to do this and—”

Heʼs cut off by Eddie who lets out a humourless laugh and answers in a higher voice than usual.

“God, do you even listen to yourself? You went to that building all by yourself, you disobeyed Bobbyʼs specific orders to not go there because youʼre you and youʼre above all the orders, right? It doesnʼt matter if Bobby did it because he didnʼt want to risk one of us dying there. But you just couldnʼt listen.”

“Funny thatʼs coming out from the man who cut his rope and almost died in the well.” Buck interjects viciously because heʼs truly angered by now.

Something flashes in Eddieʼs eyes but Buck canʼt name it. He doesnʼt even have the time to think about it because his best friend doesnʼt back out.

“Itʼs not relevant now, weʼre talking about today and your stupid, reckless behaviour. What were you thinking? Or-Or maybe donʼt. You probably werenʼt thinking at all. Obviously. And it almost cost you a life! Your life! How can you be so reckless?!” Eddie shouts and the pain in his voice is very noticeable but Buck pretends to ignore it.

“Iʼm a firefighter. Itʼs kinda in a job description, donʼt you think? Sometimes I have to be a little reckless. Besides, I did save a life and I didnʼt die either, right? Otherwise I wouldnʼt be standing there and listen to you being all pissed.” Buck shrugs like itʼs nothing, like he really doesnʼt care about his life. Itʼs probably another thing he shouldnʼt have said because Eddie straightens up and now, thereʼs almost no space between. For the second Buck thinks Eddie will lash out and just hit him. He kinda wishes he did. But Eddie only sighs heavily and rakes through his hair with frustration.

“God, youʼre driving me crazy, Buckley. Youʼre so dumb and stubborn and you donʼt even stop for a second to think about the consequences of your actions. You donʼt even care what would happen if you actually died, do you?”

Thereʼs something in Eddieʼs voice, something hard to catch and name that stops Buck from responding immediately. His words are ringing in his ears because they are annoyingly true. He didnʼt think about the consequences of his eventual death. He literally just stormed inside the building to find a man despite Bobbyʼs direct order to not go there because it was already too dangerous. He did it anyway, he managed to save a life but he didnʼt manage to get out in time and the whole building just collapsed. He doesnʼt remember much but he certainly remembers being held out by Eddie and his donʼt you dare die here, you dumbass.

It mustʼve been scary, he admits, and he thinks he understands how Eddie mustʼve felt because he also saw his best friend almost dying. But the anger? He still doesnʼt get it.

“Iʼve had a few close calls during the years. Why is it so different now?” He finally asks.

“Because Iʼm in love with you, you asshole!” Eddie cries out. “And you just keep dying on me and I canʼt take it anymore!”

Buckʼs brain short-circuits. He mustʼve died after all, right? There is no real possibility Eddie just told heʼs in love with him. Thereʼs no possibility he may actually reciprocate his feelings. Thereʼs no way itʼs not just his hallucination or some kind of weird dream in his afterlife. But he desperately wants to be the truth, desperately needs validation for his thoughts. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind: he grabs Eddie by the collar of his Henley and crashes their lips together. His friend is definitely surprised, even shocked and for a moment, he does nothing. Buck already starts to panic because he thinks it’s real and he might’ve misheard everything or even projected it and just destroyed their friendship. But then, Eddie suddenly changes position and pushes Buck until he leans against the counter. And when he kisses him, all thoughts and doubts are completely gone from Buckʼs mind. The only things that matter are Eddieʼs lips on his, Eddieʼs hands on his body, Eddie utterly focused on him and that desperate need to fulfil their desire. Buck mightʼve kissed a lot of people in his life; he has had both awkward and amazing kisses but they cannot compete to make out with his best friend. It feels entirely different, maybe because Eddie loves him back. They break apart only for a couple of seconds to take a breath; Buck sits on the counter and brings Eddie closer by the belt. He canʼt take his eyes off him; Eddie looks wonderful with already swollen lips, flushed cheeks and a spark in his eyes. He probably looks no better but he doesnʼt even care.

“I know youʼve probably already noticed but I love you too, asshole.” He says in a teasing voice, inches away from Eddieʼs lips.

“Well, I mightʼve suspected it when you kissed me but itʼs nice to actually hear it. But donʼt even think that you say you love me, bat your eyelashes and kiss me this way and I wonʼt be angry at you.” Eddie warns half-seriously.

“I can try.” Buck just smirks and kisses him again. This time, he also quickly unbuckles the belt Eddieʼs wearing and starts to lift his shirt. His friend doesnʼt even protest, he lets him do whatever he wants and thatʼs why his Henley ends up somewhere on the floor. Then, the blonde moves from his lips to his neck and slowly makes his way down, planting kisses on his chest. Itʼs crazy how quickly their anger turned into lust. Now, the tension between them is much better, more exciting, easy to resolve.

Eddie lets out a loud moan when Buck—this sneaky bastard—grabs his ass and squeezes it.

“Youʼre a menace.” He hisses.

“Oh, you should wait with the sweet talk after Iʼm done with you, Diaz.” Buck grins and he doesnʼt stop with the teasing. He unzips Eddieʼs jeans painfully slowly and Eddie almost whines to hurry up. The younger man notices it and winks at him before he adds. “Although Iʼm not sure if youʼll be able to talk at all.”

“So maybe quit talking, Evan, and show me your skills?”

“As you wish, Edmundo.”

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #911 fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write

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princessfbi · 4 years ago

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so what about 69 and 42 for the ask game? 🤪

Flirting Under Fire + The Big Damn Kiss

I struggled with this one but hopefully you like it!

First Lines:

The only thing Buck can think is: seriously?

Seriously!

Because Eddie has been driving him wild for weeks now and of course, he picks now when Buck is a little busy to be as transparent as a piece of glass just washed until it shined.

“Right now?” Buck hissed between his teeth as he ducked down just as a bullet whizzed past his head.

Eddie, the asshole, just shrugged like it was nothing with his stupid quirked smile that had Buck weak in the knees.

“You didn’t seem to get the picture the first time.” Eddie leaned over his barricade and shot back, taking out three of the alien goons like it was a superpower or something.

It could be. Eddie’s aim was suspiciously perfect. Jury was still out on it.

“Besides,” Eddie said, perfectly tussled and perfectly out of breath. “If we die here, I don’t want to do it without kissing you senseless first.”

Buck should probably start at the beginning so people understand just why he’s justified in thinking Eddie is the most insufferable asshole he’s ever met.

Premise:

Buck doesn’t have superpowers, okay? He’s not a billionaire who can throw tons of money at his problems. He just cares. He cares about people and about the planet and he wants to help.

Besides, Bobby said he needed him—that Buck had a place on the team to save the world— and as far as Buck is concerned, Bobby’s word is gold.

He doesn’t need friends.

He doesn’t need a partner.

So why the fuck did Bobby insist on pairing Buck with Eddie ‘know it all never misses a shot mr. perfect’ Diaz?

Eddie? He just likes messing with the cute guy with biceps for days and secrets from when he was “definitely not a spy” that would drown everyone else but Buck kept grinning anyway.

The stakes are high— if they fail it is the end of the world after all— but if tomorrow isn’t guaranteed then who are they to stop love, huh?

Additional Notes:

It would be kind of a The Man From Uncle meets The Avengers world

Buck would be a kind of Napoleon solo-esque spy who feels a little used because all he’s ever been good for is his body and Bobby gives him some real meaning

Eddie is a shameless flirt because flustered Buck is everything

Eddie may or may not have super powers and he refuses to answer just because he knows it drives Buck crazy

Okay but like.... imagine the tight pants

TIGHT pants

Buck and Eddie would have a late night confessions sesh at the top of a building

I’m torn between having the kiss here or surrounded by explosions because part of me loves the loud in the quiet but also these divas as both dramatic AF

Buck would be grabbed by a baddie and it would be enough to distract Eddie that he misses

He’d only ever miss for Buck

Eddie would be gravely injured and Buck would go feral trying to get him

Grabbing onto his hand and dragging him to safety

Ok maybe they would kiss again during the explosions anyway

#lovebuck #ask game #answered #my fic writing #evan ‘buck’ buckley #Eddie diaz #Eddie is a total troll #buddie

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sickofthistoxicshit · 4 years ago

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This is my 4x12 review - skip if you haven’t watched yet.💖

In my opinion the whole Treasure Hunt thing, had a S2 bank mystery vibe about it. Like the silly calm before the storm, again in parallel to right before when Buck was hurt.

I knew the Author jerk is alive the second I saw the actor who played it, the was not one show where he guest starred and wasn’t a jerk 😂😂

So since I did my own version of live writing, I apologize if this is a bit disorganized.

We got so much buddie bread crumbs, that eventually felt like a meal at the end of the episode so let’s start with: Both boys in sunglasses - oh WOW! 🔥🔥

Bobby sending Eddie with Chimney and Buck looking thoroughly unhappy to be separated from Eddie. They nod at each other and while Buck frowns at Chimney, Eddie crosses himself before going to get geared up.

It was a small gesture but very significant because Eddie has already crashed in a chopper (in 3x15 and watched Hen and Strand crash in the crossover) he knows what could go wrong.

Chimney’s “cheer up you can go next time” doesn’t really reassure Buck. I think a “we’ll be fine” or “I’ll keep him safe” would have calmed Buck’s nerves a lot more.

Can we discuss for a second how HOT!! Eddie looked doing the aerial rescue? I mean WOW, I watched it several times. 🥵🥵🥵

The 118 sitting together trying to figure out the riddle was funny, everyone thinking how it’s a bad idea to even consider this to be a real thing, except for Buck, of course. 😂

And while the others are already considering how freaking horrible the rest of their shift is going to be like, because it’s all over the news thanks to Taylor Kelly’s story.

Eddie called Taylor - Buck’s “girlfriend”, but we don’t see his face, we do get to see it, when Buck stresses (for what feels like the millionth time from the sigh and tone of his voice) that she is his friend not his girlfriend.

Eddie’s “Yeah, sure, right.” face is priceless!!😂😂

Buck and Taylor plotting together again, is always hilarious, those two are disaster magnets, it makes for good fun. What bothered me was that Buck offered Taylor to pair up, but re-watching, everybody’s reaction didn’t exactly originally encouraged a teaming up vibe.

However the problem with human nature is - everyone love to obsess over riddles. 😉😉

Eddie jumping through the window into the fire truck? epic!

Eddie did suggest to team up to Buck and I love that even after Buck told him he’s working with Taylor, the look on Eddie’s face melted Buck almost immediately and had him suggesting Eddie joins the two of them. 🥰🥰

The scene in Buck’s apartment, with the three of them Eddie is right between Taylor and Buck in the shot and kind of “talking to himself” was so funny. - Gave me a BBC Sherlock scene between Irene Adler, Sherlock and John.

The way Martin Freeman stole the scene just by dropping small comments. I gotta give it to Eddie, out of all of everything in that scene, Ryan performance is what I’m going to remember. - Acting choices were made all throughout this episode by both Oliver and Ryan.

Also can we talk about the fact that Eddie is now stating little bits of knowledge like Buck now - “I can know weird stuff too” from 4x03 is so haunting me, these boys have totally rubbed off each other. (get your minds out of the gutters... for now anyway 😉)

I love how Eddie and Buck sit down and scratch, just thinking about the fire ants 😂😂

Buck being lowered into the septic tank - notice, Eddie is the one handling the rope, again, his expression worried while Buck is still down there, especially after having to drop him into the water.

I have noticed that Bobby sent Eddie up in the chopper, but is reluctant to send him under ground still 😉🙃

Buck’s “come on” when Eddie and Bobby made a face and walked away from the stench was so funny. Also super adorable on Buck’s part.

I love how Taylor keeps shutting Buck down, it’s amusing to watch now that I know how the episode ends.

Athena being done with idiots the entire episode was hilarious! Angela is a queen!

I loved that 9-1-1 dispatchers were running a bet of places where the treasure may be. (Josh’s “Who thought that was a good idea?” and someone shouting “not it!” had me in stitches 😂😂)

Let’s take a break from buddie for a second:

Hen and Chimney joining the race and Bobby trying to hide his research from Athena was so funny, I mean, she is a police sergeant, there was no way she wouldn’t figure him out.

Bobby planning a future together, a life after the job, and Athena shutting him down. I do think this is what will come between them eventually. Athena making a unilateral decision, without considering even talking about a future with Bobby that doesn’t revolve around them working until they’re either forced out or buried six feet under ground.

I find it interesting because it’s usually the other way around, my mom has been working on my dad to retire for years now so they can travel before both of them are too old to do it. So I kinda get where Bobby’s coming from.

In parallel though, Athena making the unilateral decision like Eddie did when he re-enlisted in 3x15. I do hope Bobby and Athena manage to work things out, I love them together.

Back to the hunt:

Of course Athena worked out where the treasure is, Karen built an algorithm, and Taylor apparently helping Buck and Eddie figure it out bringing all three teams together.

Athena looking to Buck and Eddie asking them if they seriously brought their gear with them and Eddie pointing at Hen and Chimney to divert the attention from them about their med-kits. - like children trying to justify themselves to their parents. 😂😂😂

Wasting time negotiating about the money was hilarious, especially with Taylor in the chopper hovering over them lmao.

And then there was probie - Jesus! I laughed so much. 😂🤦‍♂️

Also Buck’s “I’m not doing anymore math”, as a reference to “she taught me math”, Buck’s not doing that shit. He calculated enough for one day and he is done! 😂

I do like that Oli and Ryan’s marks are closer together again ❣❣❣

Eddie: “We didn’t kill him” Buck: “We just wanted to” Bobby’s “Shut up” face killed me.

Probie selling them out “I don’t know these ppl.” You don’t say shit like this as a probie 😂😂😂

Also Rick saying “I didn’t actually think it was” and I'm just enjoying the moment, was awesome. I like it when he shows up in episodes, he and Athena make a good and amusing team.

Back to buddie bread crumbs:

Everyone in Bathena’s house, including Taylor, who took the place next to buck, leaving Eddie to sit directly in front of Taylor and next to Chimney. - The “At this point I don’t trust anyone.” cuts to Eddie’s face, that looked as if he’s saying “Seriously dude? hurtful” - The fact that Buck stopped and met Eddie’s reproachful gaze even though they are not directly in front of each other says so much!

Also the “Stop for a second and think about what you said.” looks from Chimney and the others are very meaningful. (#everybody knows 😉) Buck sticking his foot in his mouth and him backtracking are shot directly from Eddie’s perspective. - hmm, I wonder why…? 🧐🧐

And to complete the meal:

Taylor placing Buck directly in the Friend-Zone category, was genius. And while Buck and Taylor have a fun energy together it never really felt romantically oriented. Also I have a certain feeling that seeing Buck and Eddie interact, at Buck’s place and at Bathena’s house and not for the first time either, she knows it will not work between her and Buck.

Buck, trying to feel something more for her, even if in a gentler and way sweeter way than the cursed ship I will not name, it feels forced on his end too - and Taylor lets him off the hook in a gentle way too, I like her for that even more.

I really hope we keep seeing Taylor in a friend capacity for Buck, I think it’s good for him to have support and someone to talk to outside the 118. And I will absolutely worship Taylor if she will be the buddie catalyst, I mean Megan does ship buddie too, it will only be appropriate 😉💖

The episode in itself was pretty nice, I would have probably enjoyed it more if I watched it before LS who absolutely kicked me in the feels today. But I do know that just like 9-1-1 2x15 I’ll go back and watch it like a million times because it is a fun episode to pass the time, and the buddie crumbs were delicious.

The promo kicked me in the feels too, I will not discuss it here right now, but I do hope that that last part won’t be a cliff hanger and we’ll have to wait an entire week for the rest, two weeks of frayed nerves are a LOT to suffer through 🙈

Sending big hugs out there to whomever needs it 🤗🤗🤗

#9-1-1 4x12 #118 firefam #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #the buddie crumbs were yummi #i want more of those #everybody knows #bathena #Henrietta Wilson #chimney han #taylor kelly #love her for friend zoning buck #now somebody get rid of the other pesky LI #i don't usually say this but #jealous!eddie #was everything #can't wait for the next episode #someone sedate me

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goodlucktai · 3 years ago

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when the bones are good

@natsumeweek 2021 day 4; sweet/sour

read on ao3

(previous part)

Yousuke Takuma looks like he regrets inviting the Natori brothers into his house. They tend to have that effect on people.

“I shouldn’t be reading these,” he says in a very calm tone. “These are the sacred property of your clan. They shouldn’t even have left your property.”

“It’s not like anyone is going to miss them,” Shuuichi replies plainly. “My grandfather still thinks I can’t get past the locks on the storehouse door. Even Takashi can get past those, and he’s eight.”

“Sometimes I just ask Urihime to get me the keys,” Takashi admits. “She doesn’t get along with grandfather so she likes having an excuse to take stuff from him.”

It’s a nice way of saying ‘she fucking hates him’ but Takashi is a nice person.

The kid is chronically honest. Always has been. He’ll strive to frame it kindly, but the truth is all you’re getting from him. It can be annoying, but mostly it’s pretty funny, and at the end of the day Shuuichi is glad that Takashi doesn’t feel the need to lie or make up stories. Even about the really unbelievable things. He just says what he’s thinking, because he knows it’s the truth, and his big brother will back him up if anyone gives him any trouble.

Shuuichi doesn’t have a lot in his life to be proud of, but he’s proud of that.

The right people don’t care if a little kid tells ghost stories, anyway. Hinata thinks they’re great. She keeps threatening to write them all down and adapt them into her first screenplay.

Takuma puts his face in his hands. Across the room, Tsukiko giggles, clearly not as focused on her homework as she would like for the rest of them to believe she is. Ginro sets a tray of tea down on the table and gives Shuuichi a stern look for having the audacity to stress her master out so soon after his injury. Chastened, Shuuichi lifts his hands in apology.

“If you really don’t want to look at them, I’ll put them away,” he says. “But I trust you not to—run off with them and patent them under your name, or whatever it is you think I should think you’re going to do.”

That works a huff of wry laughter out of the man, and he looks up at Shuuichi with a warm expression. It’s the way Shuuichi thinks his dad might have looked at him if he’d been born a proper son.

“Lunch first,” Takuma says, “then we’ll take a look at this paper magic of yours. Though if a couple of little geniuses like yourselves can’t figure it out, I don’t know what you think this old man will be able to do.”

He adds the last bit with a smile for Takashi, who beams up at him from where he’s been not-so-subtly sneaking Jinbe rice crackers. Jinbe is the most unsettling of Takuma’s three familiars, but he’s also—to Shuuichi’s resignation—Takashi’s complete favorite. It appears to be mutual.

“You’ve kept your promise, haven’t you?” Takuma asks after a moment. “About staying away from those meetings?”

Shuuichi sighs performatively. “Of course I have. It’s not like I could bring my brother with me, and he’d hardly just stay home. He’s very disobedient.”

Takashi scoffs. “Hinata-neesan says I’m your most redeeming quality.”

“Nowhere in there does she mention ‘obedient,’” Shuuichi replies without missing a beat, and grins when Takashi makes a face at him.

“Alright, alright,” Takuma says, laughing properly now. “As long as you’re keeping your word, I don’t care about why.” He pushes himself up to his feet, moving a little stiffly, and smiles at his daughter when Tsukiko hurries over to take his arm. “There should be some margherita pizzas in the chest freezer. I bought them on a whim the last time I was at the supermarket. Should we try them?”

Of course they should. Takashi scoops the last of the cookies off the table and piles them neatly in Jinbe’s greedy hands, even though Takuma sighs and makes noises about spoiled shiki. Tsukiko gives the disappearing treats a bit of an odd look, but she seems more fascinated to be in the company of spirits than unnerved.

Shuuichi is beginning to think that his relatives are just bad people.

“By the way, have you made any progress on,” Takuma starts, and finishes with a nod towards Shuuichi’s arm.

The lizard is scurrying around in busy little circles, as if it’s feeling restless. Shuuichi covers it with his hand, something that sometimes works in calming it down, like putting a blanket over a bird cage. In this case, it crawls onto his hand instead and resumes scurrying there. Weird little thing.

“I still have no idea what it is,” Shuuichi says ruefully, “but Takashi is trying to teach it tricks.”

Takuma stares at him, and then at his brother. Takashi offers, “It knows ‘roll over’!”

“Go,” Shuuichi’s mentor says firmly, pointing them down the hall. “Kitchen. Lunch. We’ll discuss this later.”

A knock on the door interrupts their noisy exodus, and Takuma frowns. Clearly, he isn’t expecting company. The amiable man’s posture tenses as he gestures for Tsukiko, Shuuichi and Takashi to stay put. Ginro and Benihimo flank him on his way to the front door.

Exorcists tend to be a paranoid bunch.

But with a dangerous ayakashi on the loose, Shuuichi thinks, with a prickle of unease all his own, maybe it’s better safe than sorry.

“Urihime, go collect all our scrolls and put them in my bag,” Shuuichi says swiftly. “Sasago, stay right here.”

His shiki both nod, and Urihime disappears.

Tsukiko is picking up on the atmosphere, even if her eyes aren’t the same as theirs. Even normal humans have a sixth-sense sense for certain things and it’s not to be taken lightly. She shifts nervously, and something in Shuuichi’s chest goes warm when he realizes she’s put her arm around Takashi’s shoulders protectively.

“Seiji?” Takuma asks. His voice is raised in surprise, carrying from the genkan. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Relief and dread fight each other in the pit of Shuuichi’s stomach. Dread wins. He’s only encountered Matoba Seiji twice, once at the summit he inadvertently followed Amasaki to, and then again in passing for a few minutes in the woods, but those brief meetings were enough.

Even normal humans have a sixth-sense for certain things. Usually danger.

“Tsukiko,” he says casually, “can you and Takashi go get lunch started?”

To Tsukiko’s eternal credit, she doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Takashi, will you help me? Dad buys so much weird stuff when he goes shopping that it might be hard to find the pizzas.”

Takashi gives Shuuichi a look that says, very clearly, that he knows when he’s being fobbed off. Shuuichi ruffles his hair in a way that ruins the careful work Sumi-san (the only member of the Natori house staff who will still talk to either of them) put in that morning with half a dozen bobby pins. Now it flops into Takashi’s eyes and he makes an outraged sound, reaching up to shove Shuuichi’s hand away.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Shuuichi says. “Promise.”

That’s enough for Takashi. Mollified, he trails after Tsukiko without argument, and with only one curious look over his shoulder. Jinbe drifts after them watchfully, and probably only partly in hopes of more snacks. Sasago remains at Shuuichi’s side, a stalwart presence that he’s come to depend on.

It’s Shuuichi’s job to keep the monsters away. Whatever form they might take.

Takuma looks irritated as he leads Seiji into the sitting room. With a nod of his head, he invites Shuuichi inside, too. The tea tray from before has vanished, a new one sitting in its stead, and Shuuichi notes with some inward amusement that Ginro didn’t lay out any snacks this time.

“Well, what do you know,” Seiji says, as enigmatic as ever. “Shuuichi-san, I never would have expected to find you here.”

It’s impossible to tell what this guy is actually thinking.

“Did you come by to check on Takuma-san, too?” Shuuichi asks. He has to work to keep his tone from biting, but he manages it.

“In a sense,” Seiji replies politely. “I was hoping to find out more about the ayakashi that attacked him. Going after it before it hurts anyone else is an exorcist’s job, don’t you think?”

It’s bait, as clear and obvious as a cricket dangling from some fishing line. If he were still the bitter brat he used to be, maybe Shuuichi would have risen to it fiercely, like a tide, surging and crashing against Seiji’s unchanging stone facade. He would have said, ‘You don’t care about helping people. You called Takuma-san weak. You’re just looking for someone to use.’

Which is all perfectly true, and perfectly justifiable reasons to not want to drink tea with this guy and discuss the differences in their conventions, but it’s not like calling Seiji out would do any good. It probably wouldn’t even be satisfying. He would just gaze at Shuuichi with that stupid cat-that-caught-the-canary expression and make him feel like an idiot for existing.

He gets enough of that at home, thanks.

“You’re right,” Shuuichi says mildly, with a smile of his own, “that is an exorcist’s job.”

Takuma eventually tells Seiji what he wants to know, clearly having given up on keeping the teenager away from exorcist summits and dangerous ayakashi, but he does afterword his information with warnings to be careful.

Urihime sets Shuuichi’s bookbag beside him and he nods his thanks. Seiji clocks the two-second interaction with sharp eyes.

“Look at that! You have a servant?” His eyes follow her when she moves to stand next to Sasago, next to both of Takuma’s shiki along the side of the room, and he whistles. “Two servants. Pretending to be an exorcist on the sly, are we, Shuuichi-san?”

More bait. Another cricket. Shuuichi sips from his teacup. “They belong to my family. I don’t know why they follow me around. They must be bored.”

All of which is true, technically. Takuma’s eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, but he doesn’t comment. Sasago turns her head very slowly, and her eyes, hidden beneath their blindfold, seem to bore into the side of his head. Urihime is less subtle and outright hisses at him.

“Hmm, jury seems to be out on that,” Seiji says, and laughs.

The sitting room door rattles open and Tsukiko peers through. Shuuichi’s fists clench in his lap, because sure enough, Takashi is right behind her, his brown eyes peeking curiously into the room.

“Sorry, papa, but is your guest staying for lunch, too? Only, I don’t know how many pizzas to put in.”

“No, no, I couldn’t impose,” Seiji says. “I’ll get going and leave you guys to enjoy the rest of your afternoon. It looks as though you were having a pleasant time before I barged in.”

We were, Shuuichi thinks, but he keeps it to himself. He and Takuma stand up to see Seiji out. Seiji pauses when he spots Takashi behind Tsukiko, and his amicable expression takes on an edge that Shuuichi can’t define. He looks more engaged now than he did during the entire conversation with Takuma.

“Hello again,” Seiji says in a pleasant tone.

“Excuse me?” Shuuichi interjects loudly. “‘Again’?”

“Hi,” Takashi replies at length. His gaze is fixed on Seiji’s face as though there’s something interesting happening there. Jinbe drifts like a shark behind him, mask pointed towards Seiji suspiciously.

“As I thought, you have good eyes,” Seiji remarks, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He looks across the room at Urihime and Sasago, down at the bag by Shuuichi’s feet, at the lizard mark curled up on his arm, and then finally up at Shuuichi himself. Smiling widely, he adds, “I look forward to seeing what becomes of the Natori clan.”

Takuma escorts him out properly, and Tsukiko goes back to deal with the pizzas. Alone save for a scattering of trusted ayakashi, Shuuichi kneels and beckons his brother over.

“C’mere, squirt.”

Takashi crosses the room to him. Standing in front of Shuuichi like this, they’re almost eye-to-eye.

“Have you met that guy before?” Shuuichi asks.

“Only once. It was when you had classroom duties and Hinata-neesan took me to the 7-Eleven to get chicken nuggets,” Takashi explains. “We met Matoba-san while we were walking. He said he was your friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Takashi nods very seriously.

“That’s what Hinata-neesan said. She took out her pepper spray and waved it at him. I think Matoba-san thought that was funny, but he said he didn’t mean to upset her, and he left. It was the right thing to do, probably, because he didn’t have any spirits with him, and Urihime was getting annoyed that he was talking to me.”

Shuuichi feels like he’s aged thirty years in the past three minutes. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes hard enough that there are spots in his vision when he looks up again.

“Takashi, listen,” he says, “stay away from him. If he ever approaches you for any reason, tell me about it, okay? Promise?”

He holds out his pinky. Takashi rolls his eyes, much too grown up at eight years old for things like this, but he hooks his finger around Shuuichi’s gamely.

“Whoever lies has to swallow a thousand needles,” they recite together, and then Shuuichi ruffles Takashi’s hair again just to make him squawk.

“Sorry about that, boys,” Takuma says when he comes back.

He pauses in the doorway and his bandaged face creases in a smile to see them rough-housing playfully, Takashi struggling to free himself from Shuuichi’s headlock, the tense atmosphere from before banished like an errant spirit.

“Bring those scrolls with you to the kitchen,” Takuma says warmly, “and I’ll help however I can.”

Seiji can think whatever he wants about Takuma, but the man is clever. By the time Shuuichi and Takashi are ready to leave, packed up with a leftover pizza and some cookies for the road, they’ve puzzled out the array that they were stuck on and Shuuichi managed to make a paperman fly.

Takuma had looked over the notes he’d taken ruefully. He couldn’t help but absorb some of the practices for himself as he helped the boys study them, and clearly he felt guilty about that. Shuuichi leaned forward across the table and caught his eye.

I trust you, he wanted to say. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. But there was absolutely no way Shuuichi could say something like that. Not out loud, with his mouth, where someone might hear him.

“Clan trade or not, if you’re ever in danger and any of this paper magic could help you, I want you to use it,” he said instead. “No secret is worth keeping if it means you get hurt. Right, Takashi?”

“Right,” Takashi piped up, his little voice clear and bright in that sunny kitchen. He was watching intently as his paperman wobbled precariously across the table, trying to carry a note to a delighted Tsukiko, and didn’t bother looking up even as he added, “It’s just paper, ojisan.”

“Yeah, ojisan,” Shuuichi teased laughingly.

Takuma rolled his eyes, but gave in with a smile, as if he couldn’t help but be charmed by their noisy, obtrusive presence in his home. For a second, even though he was clearly the one who had gone out of his way to help them—wasting an entire day working with them on magic he didn’t fully approve of them studying in the first place, an entire day he should have spent recuperating—Takuma looked as though they were the ones who had done him a favor, just by being there.

“What did Seiji mean when he said you had good eyes?” Shuuichi will remember to ask his brother a little later, when they’re walking home.

“Oh, I guess because I noticed the weird mark on his face,” Takashi says.

“Weird mark? What did it look like?”

Takashi hums thoughtfully, glancing around. He trots off the road a little bit to pick up a stick, then crouches in the dirt and starts drawing a strange, crooked symbol. Shuuichi leans over him to watch.

It’s not a symbol he’s ever seen before. Yokai writing, if he had to guess.

“What does it mean?” he asks the shiki.

Sasago drifts over and inspects the drawing, her face giving nothing away.

“‘Something owed,’” she translates after a moment. “I think the closest human word would be ‘debt’.”

“Huh,” Shuuichi says. He offers Takashi a hand and hauls the kid back upright, frowning thoughtfully. “And you said it was on his face?”

“Yup, above his right eye. Didn’t you see it?” A thread of anxiety works its way into Takashi’s voice that Shuuichi is quick to smother.

“I didn’t have my glasses on,” he says smoothly, “so I must have missed it. You know your eyes are better than mine.”

Takashi grins up at him, appeased, and they spend the rest of the walk playing with bits of talisman paper. It’s habit by now to keep their pockets stuffed full of scraps. Shuuichi manages to make a couple of them fly, and Takashi claps his hands together in glee every time.

To anyone who might be watching, it probably looks like the wind is catching the scraps and lifting them out of their hands instead of the shaky first steps of magic it really is. There won’t be anything to question about the sight of two brothers, taking their time getting home to a place where no one is waiting for them, laughing and jumping as they try to catch those floating pieces of paper.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsumeweek #natori shuuichi #natsume takashi #yousuke takuma #matoba seiji #my writing #natsuyuu fic #second hand

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fanficteen · 4 years ago

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Old Friend

deucalion x reader

“(Y/N)?” Rafael’s voice crackled on the other end of the phone. “McCall?” “I need your help.” Sirens whirled in the background. “You what?” “There’s a hunting problem.” That cleared absolutely nothing up. “I’m an author, not a cop, McCall.” “At the shipyard,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard you. “Remember I told you about the Hale attack?” “McCall,” you heard, muffled, on the other end of the phone. “Name’s a little too close to home, ain’t it, Ferrell?” “Please.” The line went dead. “Hale attack? That was a fire.” Your heart plummeted in your chest. “Hunters.” You scrambled for the door, not even bothering to lock it as you ran. You’d heard about them coming, heard about the new pack, the True Alpha. Hell, you’d even helped once or twice, when Melissa or Argent called you in. But you hadn’t made the connection between McCall and Scott McCall, the tiny, chubby little kid you’d looked after while his mom worked.

Guns were already firing when you reached the shipyard, and someone was crawling for cover. Or, trying too. He was far too old to be Scott, even as his eyes flashed red, claws extending to drag him across the ground. Three teenagers were scattered around the yard, another man crouched behind a steel beam. You waited, as the Hunters moved forward. Then the barrage ceased, though they kept their guns raised. You launched forward, then, and cut off three from the back with ease. You grabbed a fourth by the throat and tossed him into another, finally drawing their attention to you, as you managed to grab the wounded wolf and bolt in their confusion. “Made a new friend, Scott?” That voice sent chills down your spine, blood-soaked memories clawing their way from the pit of your mind. Your parents – human parents, dead on the floor, just for protecting you. “Just in time to bury them.” You swept through the group to the woman speaking, throwing her to the ground. She spun to look at you, as she landed, but you were already moving, surging towards her. Through the corner of your eye, you caught sight of one of her hunters moving towards the stone column, where Scott was crouched, and you changed courses, knowing you wouldn’t get there in time. Then an engine revved, and suddenly there was a Jeep spearing into the shipyards and the Hunter went flying from the impact. You felt a bullet shatter your shoulder and growled, turning back towards Monroe as two new faces joined the fight. She glanced at you, then behind her, and took off for her car, her men following behind her. Half of you wanted to go after her, but Scott needed you more than you needed revenge. Scott’s pack soon grouped up around where he was struggling, vainly, to stem the blood flow of the wounded man. You pushed him aside, lightly, kneeling in his place. The man ignored you, still focused on Scott. Something about Gerard and knowing he couldn’t win. His breath cut off. “It’s really started, hasn’t it?” None of them stopped you, but you could feel them staring as you leaned forward, eyes flashing black, as you buried your claws in the back of his neck. “Hey!” The late werewolf – a Hale – grabbed Scott’s arm as he protested. “She’s a Grim,” he breathed, as the man’s flashed open and he gasped for breath. “She just – she just brought him back from the dead, right?” Stiles asked, jaw dropped. “I’m not insane?” “She just brought him back from the dead,” the redhead agreed. “He wasn’t quite dead,” you corrected, immediately darting out of the way as the man swung onto his hands and knees, choking in mouthfuls of air.

“Who – wait, (Y/N)?!” “It’s been a while, pup.” He stared as you rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly. “Pretty impressive pack you’ve gathered. A handful of Hales, a Banshee, another Alpha…” You glanced at Stiles. “…the Sheriff’s son. Very human, very smart. You’re taking good care of him, right?” You carefully placed your foot on the wounded man’s back as he moved to stand. He swung his head around to glare. “Sorry, but you should stay down there, sir.” “Gonna introduce us, Scott?” the late Hale prompted. “Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Scott gestured between you and the pack, “Everyone, this is (Y/N). She used to babysit me as a kid. I did not know she was supernatural. (Y/N), this is Derek, Peter, Malia, Lydia, and you know Stiles.” You tilted your head, surreptitiously, towards the recovering wolf. “That’s Deucalion.” “He’s who?” you questioned, earning a half-hearted laugh from the man on the ground. “Can I get up, now?” he requested, lightly, his voice still rough around the edges. You hesitated, then offered your hand. “You have to let me help you, though.” He glanced from your hand to your face, then sighed and took it, letting you help him to his feet, supporting his aching body. “Nice to meet you, oh Mr Demon Wolf, Destroyer of Worlds, pep-talker of my favourite kid.” He chuckled, lowly. “Nice to meet you, Miss Death-Defier, Beacon Hills’ Grim, babysitter of the True Alpha.” The others were all staring at you, wide-eyed, when you both looked back at them. “We should leave.” “I want to take him to Deaton,” you added, as they all nodded. He sighed, and you all waited for him to protest. “What?” he challenged, letting you help him towards your car, “I’d rather see the Druid than die.”

The roar echoed through the school, reverberating in your chest – pain, anger, hurt. “Scott?!” Before you could take off, Deucalion grabbed your arm. “You don’t know how to fight it.” “Scott’s hurt!” “He’ll be more hurt if you’re dead.” You sighed, but nodded, mutely. “Let me go ahead.” He offered you his hand. “Unless I squeeze your hand, don’t open your eyes. It knows how to trick us.” “Don’t you need that?” You glanced at his hand, and he offered you a lopsided smirk. “If I do, I’ll just throw you with my punch.” You snorted, but took his hand anyway. “Give me some warning, I’ll even put my claws out and actually make myself useful.”

“Bobby?!” The Coach spun at the sound of your voice. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you hurt?” “Just looking after my players,” he answered, brightly. You raised an eyebrow. “Some asshole thought he could get away with touching my boys outside my office. I mean, sure, Jackson and Ethan aren’t my team anymore, but they’re still –” “Bobby, are they okay?” “What? Of course,” he huffed, folding his arms. “I hit him with a lacrosse stick.” Deucalion raised an eyebrow. “Not all of us have fangs and claws.” Then he paused for a moment. “Hang on, you’re the asshole–“ “Coach?” You heard a clatter in the nearby entrance hall, as Scott appeared, but just surged towards him. Deucalion headed for the noise. Blood still stained around his eyes but he smiled, offering a soft laugh, as you checked him over. “I’m fine.” “You blinded yourself?” Horror coursed through you. “He what?” Bobby demanded. Jackson and Ethan appeared, from the same direction Bobby had come. Ethan did a double take, but Deucalion held up his hands in surrender, and the boy approached, warily. “Coach, why are you here?” Stiles questioned, still entirely bewildered. “He just saved us,” Ethan admitted, making Derek raise an eyebrow. “Malia?” Peter crashed through the doors behind them. “Malia– you’re okay.” The girl in question smiled, brightly, crushing her father into a hug. Peter froze. Derek kicked Stiles before he could snicker. “Coach saved you?” Stiles asked, returning his attention to the boys. “No need for that tone, Stilinski.” “He beat a hunter unconscious with a lacrosse stick,” Jackson explained, and Stiles’ jaw dropped further. “Wait, do you know about this, Coach?” Scott asked, brows furrowed. “Of course I know. That’s my sister fussing over you.” “She’s your what?” “I’m adopted,” you assured the baffled teenagers.

Deucalion cleared his throat, summoning your attention. He held up Monroe by her collar. “She’s still alive.” “You won’t kill me,” she sneered, “McCall won’t let you.” “McCall’s not my Alpha,” Deucalion responded, eyes flashing red. “Yet you still deferred to him.” Deucalion snarled, but looked back to Scott. “This is your territory, Scott.” The boy hesitated. “But it’s a war for all of us.” They hadn’t even seen you moving before her heart dropped to the floor. “(Y/N)?!” “What the hell?!” Deucalion didn’t speak through the teenaged chorus, just discarded the body, unceremoniously, curious gaze fixed on your face. “A woman after my own heart.” Malia elbowed Peter, cutting off his muttering. “Was that her?” A sob tore from your throat at Bobby’s question, raw and ragged, but you nodded. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your brother, or at Scott, afraid of what you would see there. So you just held Deucalion’s gaze, as if begging him to understand… something. Anything. Even you weren’t sure what. The man was a killer, after all. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him. You could hear Bobby explaining, behind you, but still didn’t dare look back. You flinched when Deucalion finally broke the impasse by taking a step forward, but didn’t move away. He continued forward, slowly, until he had closed the distance between you, a warm hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” The question was stiff, awkward, but you couldn’t say you expected any different. Before you even registered what you were doing, you slumped forward, burying your head in his chest. He went stiff for a moment, but you soon felt his arms inch around you, one hand coming to your hair. Your sobs began to fade, breathing falling into sync with the soothing fingers trailing through your hair. “Am I seeing this right– ow, Derek!” A low growl rumbled from Deucalion’s chest, vibrating through your body, and Stiles fell silent. With a shuddering breath, you pulled away and looked up to meet the eyes of the Alpha of Alphas. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was gentle. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “You just single-handedly destroyed a well-manicured, decades-old reputation.” There was no anger in his voice. “I think you did that when you started practicing pacifism,” Peter drawled, making both Scott and Deucalion glare at him. He shrugged, but didn’t try to take it back. “Can I suggest we leave?” Lydia piped up, quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower.” She looked down at her dust-covered hands, the stains of blood and sweat on her clothes. Murmurs of agreement followed, and you all headed for the doors. “Scott, if you see your father, tell him I’ll be by tomorrow.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I just magically realised you were about to die, did you?” You didn’t bother listening to their mumbled responses, just made a beeline for your car. “Call me tonight!” Bobby shouted after you. You waved your agreement.

#pack mom reader #tw past trauma #tw parent death #tw murder #deucalion x reader #deucalion #teen wolf deucalion #teen wolf #coach finstock #bobby finstock #adopted!reader #adopted!finstock!reader #tw violence #tw gore #tamora monroe #coach is secretly soft #tw guns #tw injury #tw major injury

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proudlylost · 4 years ago

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My 6+1 favorite SPN fics: AU

After the SPN finale I kinda got sucked back into the fandom. The excessive amount of fanfiction reading ensued (I re-read all of my SPN fic favorites and then some) and I realised I have actually read quite a lot of them. So I thought I could share them, to highlight all the talented authors there is and also to gather all of my favorites into the one place. This post contain my favorite AU fics, the SPN universe edition of this fic rec can be found here.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits

“In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU. “

READ! THIS! Well, there is some really disturbing war related and time period related stuff, but if you can stomach that, read it! Along with the Angel’s Wild, this is my favorite fanfiction. This fic is heart wrenching and so, so good.The characterization is on point. Historical accuracy is on point. Slow burn is on point. Everything is just perfect. However, as I said, this fic is heavy stuff. There is some serious angst (I cried. I almost never cry when reading) and trauma. But there is glimmers of hope, even if sometimes it feels hopeless. Expected recovery time: at least two weeks. Word Count: 401,183. Explicit

Angel’s wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone

“But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.”

This was first longer fic that I read from Supernatural fandom and I fell in love. So this is “the fic that got me into the fandom” but I have read it multiple times since and it is still very, very good. I love everything about this fic. It is very original and the lore is amazing. I love how Dean and Cas are both quite young (in Cas’s case, relatively speaking) and how their love develops (slow burn! <3) I love how Cas is described and I love how he communicates (unintentionally) with flowers. You can also read this without having any knowledge of supernatural series (like I did) which is always impressive for a fic. Wor count: 389, 271. Explicit

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

“Dean Winchester knows two things about hockey, two things his dad made sure he knew. One, hockey is a guy’s sport, and two, hockey is family. Hockey meant Sam and Bobby and Benny and Victor and Gabriel and hell, his entire team. So when Victor gets traded, Russian-star-turned-new-teammate Castiel Krushnic becomes a threat. As much as Dean hates him for that, the longer he sticks around, the more he begins to threaten that first rule too. Dean’s been taught his whole life that those who play hockey should not be captivated by deep accented voices and the way a guy handles his stick, so how the hell is he supposed to justify what he’s starting to think about Cas? All Dean wanted at the beginning of the season was to win, and now all he wants to do is figure out how he feels about Cas and how to deal with it without ruining his career and tearing his family apart. “

Ah, three of my absolute favourite things smashed into the same fic: sports, slow burn and enemies to lovers. This fic has lots of cameos from supernatural characters, because hockey teams require lots of players. So it is easy to spot your favorite character in this fic. This fic is probably one of may favorites, because of the sport environment (Outside the fandom, I have been super into sports. Like so much I have several national championships medals from my sport. Anyway, not a point here): also the sexual tension between Dean and Cas is so good, especially when they are pumped with the adrenaline. You don’t really need to understand sports to enjoy this fic, though. Word count: 143,592. Explicit

Formula Won by cardinalwrites

“Of all the places Castiel Novak thought he would take in his career, an internship as a Formula One Paddock Correspondent (or journalist, for short) was most definitely not one of them for a few reasons. One: He had no clue what the hell Formula One was. Two: He knew nothing about sports in general. And Three: He should not fall in love with the people he’s supposed to be asking hard-hitting questions to, least of all the head driver of one of the oldest and most well-renowned teams in the sport’s history.

This is a love story told around the world through the eyes of the person that knows the least about where he has found himself in. Come follow a 20-race season finding love in the lost, learning the truth, and figuring out what the hell Formula One is along the way.”

Another sports fic with a slow burn. This is probably not everyone’s cup of tea, because there is quite a lot information about formula one, and the reading experience is more enjoyable if already know about formulas/do your research. Don’t let it stop you though, because this fic is very good. The friendship between Dean and Cas is very natural, and later the romance as well. The plot is very engaging and the drama inside the formula one organization is so good. This fic is also not so “heavy” as the other ones in my list (of course, there are problems along the way, but even the fic’s tags say there will be fluff). The rating is T, which is kinda surprising, because I did not notice it until I already had read the whole fic. Word count: 123,777. Teen

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

This is one of the fandom classics and quite rightfully so. Both Dean and Cas have issues, in other words: what’s new? The sexual chemistry between them was so good and well written, but there is also angst and mental health issues (mostly Cas). Sam is quite young in this fic, but manages to be very much a little brother. I honestly loved this fic when I was a bit younger, but I think it is still very good and deserves its place in this list. Word count 94,054. Explicit

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother's apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is -- a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Ah, it seems that I’m incapable of picking nice, fluffy, happy fanfics. This certainly is not one of them. There is full warnings in the tags, because there is some triggering stuff: PTSD, mentions of past abuse, alcoholism etc. But, this is also very healing story in its own way (It has happy ending. I guess I can spoil that because it reads in the tags) . I avoided this fic for a long time, because the prostitute!Dean tag scared me away, but this was so worth of reading (as I said, happy ending)! Gabriel is super supportive and sweet brother and Dean and Cas are dysfunctional but they work so well despite all the trauma they have endured. Word count: 126,611. Explicit

Bonus: Twist and Shout by gabriel and standbyme

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

Well, I don’t think this fic needs any introductions. This is the fic, the most popular in SPN fandom and one of the most popular ones in the whole ao3. I thought that I could read this, because I don’t generally have many triggers, despite all the warnings. I was a wreck during reading. And I have managed to read it once and I can’t make myself read it again. But it is good and amazingly written. This fic plucks every emotion out of you and does anything it pleases with them. You have been warned. Word count: 97,556. Explicit

(When I wrote this fic rec I also realised I have a serious problem with long fics. Like, most of my favorites are at least 100,000 words. At this point I think I don’t even consider a fic to be slow burn, unless it takes several days to complete the fic. Oops)

#supernatural fic rec #destiel fic rec #supernatural fanfiction #destiel fanfiction #destiel slow burn #supernatural #destiel

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smol-and-grumpy · 5 years ago

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Something Just Like This - CH23

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There’s angst and much fluff in this. I enjoyed writing it. And of course, NSFW

WC: 3963

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N has lived with him for almost a month now and ever since, he has made sure to come home every night. Suddenly, being home sounds more appealing than it ever did.

Ellen is still grieving, closing the Roadhouse down for good until she’s ready. Which is understandable. The funeral was a small ceremony, with just her closest friend. Dean didn’t attend, even if he was invited too, he just didn’t feel like he had the right to.

Lucifer is a thing from the past by now. Turns out the Feds found the place where he keeps most of the girls and instead of giving himself up to his fate, Lucifer had rather put a bullet through his own skull. So that least that’s a thing less to worry about and Dean doesn’t need to lock Y/N up in a golden cage. Not that she wanted to be locked up anyway, she always found a way to sneak out while Lucifer was still alive, which gave him a couple of heart palpitations.

Dean put Y/N in charge of one of his bars. Had almost had to force her to do it because she refuses to accept help (in any form) from him. It’s always been like that and honestly, even if it’s great and all but he’s getting tired of it. Had to promise her that it’s just for her to have something to do until she can decide what she wants to do next and not because he wants to be the possessive boyfriend who wants to keep tabs on her. He thinks it has a lot to do with the stalker boyfriend she had before, because she absolutely hates to know that someone could watch her every move.

On a rainy day a couple of days ago, they were lounging on the sofa when she asked him out of the blue, if it would be weird to sign up for art classes at the community college. She thinks that she’s too old but he encouraged her as best he could. The next day, he had cleared out a room for her to set up her art studio in.

She does a lot of portraits, a whole lot of her portraits are of him. Or Cuddles. Or him with Cuddles in bed because sometimes, she leaves the door open when she’s up before him, and the cat comes in to nestle against his body. Dean can be mad all he wants but she just doesn’t care and Cuddles seizes the opportunity every damn time.

There are also fights they have. Of course there are. It’s mostly because he’s doing something stupid that makes her blood boil. Like running late for a date night he promised that he could make, or staying in his office too long when he said that he’ll just be a minute taking the call. There’s also a lot of petty fights he could list off the top of his head. Most of the time she’d slam doors, but there were also times where she just took the car and was gone for hours. He absolutely hates it when she just up and leaves. He can live with slamming doors but her going away, that terrifies him the most. She always comes back though, and he’ll sit down, cheers her up as best he can, and in the end, he could always make her laugh.

He had made it a habit not to let her go to sleep angry so they tend to talk things through when they are both lying in the dark, maybe it’s easier that way. Easier when you can’t see but can only feel. Apparently, he’s a talker now, too.

***

He’s sitting on the sofa, his hands fidgeting with his phone while he waits for her to come home. She’d told him that she’ll go dress shopping for the fundraiser. But apparently, she met a male companion which he found out about when one of his men saw her sitting in a café with said guy.

“Hey,” she greets him as she walks in, dropping her shopping bag at the door and Dean stands up.

His heart is racing stupidly fast, he threads a hand through his hair. “Where were you?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did.

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s the guy you were with?” Dean bites his tongue, closes his eyes because he really didn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. He reminds himself that she trusts him so at least he should show her the courtesy of trusting her as much. There’s something nagging away at the inside of him, though. Maybe because someone else knew about it before she even told him.

“Are you spying on me?” She gets loud and there’s something in her eyes which Dean detects as disappointment.

Dean scratches at his scruff, “No, but one of my men saw you. It’s just a little weird that my men know more than I do.” There, he said it.

“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this!”

“Well, maybe we don’t have to argue when you tell me who it was?”

“Did your man also tell you that there was another person at my table? That it was a regular from the Roadhouse and his wife? They were in town for a pregnancy scan and the woman pees so much that she rarely sits still for fucking ten minutes? They just asked if I wanted to get coffee with them and they were telling me their good news!”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes, he’s trying to come up with something. Something that would justify what he accused her of but his brain stays empty. To be fair, he didn’t really accuse her of anything but they both know where this would lead to, even if Dean really doesn’t want to admit it.

“I thought so.” She just says and turns around to leave.

He couldn’t even tell her to stay.

Dean tried his best, he really did. Told Bobby to bring around food, got out and bought some flowers and chocolate. Got her favorite wine out of the pantry and opened it. He then waits, and really hopes that she’ll come home tonight too. Like she always does.

As Dean predicted, she comes home not even five minutes after he finishes setting everything up. Walks in with her short legs and from the way she walks, he can tell that she’s still mad.

She stops when she sees the things he pulled out of his sleeves and breaks down crying.

That went well, Dean thinks. He really didn’t want to make her cry. He’s halfway across the room to pick her up from the floor but she told him to stay where he is.

She moves to lean her back against the wall, pulls her knees up and hugs them against her chest. “You know, every time I argue with you, I get into the car and drive. I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I want to get away from you and go to my best friend, tell them how stupid and ridiculous you are, how you get on my nerves, how you drive me fucking crazy!”

Dean walks over, sits on the floor across from her, his back resting against the kitchen counter. He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“And then I realize that I have no best friend I can whine and complain about you. I have no one to tell what an idiot you’ve been. No one to tell how happy you make me, no one to tell that I think I might love you.”

He was not prepared to hear that.

She goes on, “Then, after driving around for a while, I realize that I actually do have a best friend. And the friend is you. You’re the one I wanna talk to when I’m happy. You’re the one I wanna talk to when I’m sad. You get it, you know me. And that’s it, you’re my best friend and my boyfriend and then it hits me that this is not right. It’s not healthy!”

“What if it is?” Dean asks, and adds, “What if I can be both to you and you’re everything to me? Are we less of a couple because we turn to each other? Does that invalidate our relationship and friendship?”

“I don’t know,” She sighs, “I just know that I need my best friend to trash talk about you right now.”

Dean gets up to get two food containers, pours wine into two glasses and carries it all over to the floor. She just looks at him like he’s crazy. He let her take the glass and food container out of his hand before he sits down next to her.

Y/N picks at her fries, pushes one of them into her mouth.

He takes a bite out of his burger, talks while he chews, “Did you have a fight with your boyfriend?”

She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, he’s being ridiculous. He was jealous because one of his men saw me drinking coffee with a guy.” She plays along, and air quotes the word ‘guy’.

“One of his men? Who the hell has men?”

“Yeah, he’s apparently a big bad guy that everyone fears but in reality he’s really a cinnamon roll.”

Dean snorts so loud the food almost drops out of his mouth.

“Ugh. What an idiot,” Dean says. “Did he tell you that he was sorry?”

“He actually didn’t, but he showed me. Getting me flowers and all that shit.”

Dean takes a sip of wine to wash down the food with, “What a loser, doesn’t he know that you don’t even like flowers?”

“Right? He probably thinks it’s cute.” She says.

“My advice as a best friend?” He says and tilts his head towards her, sees her raising an eyebrow. “It pains me to say this but maybe you should leave him.”

She chuckles, lowers her face and picks at her fries again. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I love him.”

That’s it. He can’t just sit still anymore, pushes his food container and glass out of reach, his hands grabbing her then, manhandling her onto his lap. Her fingers come up to play with the buttons of his shirt.

“You do?” He asks, he’s sure she can feel his heart beating underneath the palm of her hands on his chest.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s head is lowered down, she’s avoiding his eyes.

He pushes his fingers underneath her chin, making her look up and waits until she focuses her eyes on his.

“I think he loves you too.”

There’s a smile on her face, and he thinks fucking finally because it’s real torture not to see that beautiful smile.

He pulls her down by the back of her neck, kisses her soft and sweet.

“You do?” She asks when they part.

Dean chuckles, “Always have. I fell in love the night I saw you and you smiled at me because I think you knew.”

***

Tonight, as soon as he walks through the door, he immediately has to pick up her jacket from the floor to hang it over the hook at the entrance. On his way to the bedroom, he finds her discarded pants. Dean picks that up too, carries it into the bedroom and places it on her side of the bed. Her top is on the floor to the entrance of the bathroom. He goes in, finds more things on the floor. Her bra, her socks, her panties which made a straight line to the bathtub.

There’s bubbles everywhere as he came to stand before her. Y/N looks up at him, a grin on her face and bubbles on her nose. He purses his lips into a smile, trying not to think that she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “You leaving your clothes lying around is not a good way to turn me on.”

“No?” She asks with that innocent look in her eyes.

Strangely it works, even if they both know that she’s not innocent. Not at all. At least not when she begs for him to fuck her faster. Not at all innocent, when she wants him to spank her harder.

“That’s not fair,” He breathes out, feels defeated.

“What?” She says but she knows because that grin on her face got cocky all of a sudden.

He starts to take off his suit jacket, pulls his shirt out of his pants and unbuttons it, slips it over his head because he can’t be bothered to unbutton them all the way. He looks at her before he unbuckles his belt and there’s a smile of a winner on her face. He hates it, wants to kiss it away.

Dean drops his pants, takes off his socks and at last, frees his half hard cock. He can’t help it. Still gets hard immediately whenever he sees her.

“I’m calling big spoon!” She says, moves back and pats the water in front of her to tell him where he has to be.

He rolls his eyes, “You don’t call big spoon.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Dean says, gets in — of course in front of her, and adds, “That’s not how it works!”

“Well, it works for me,” Y/N shrugs before hugging him around his upper body, places her chin on his shoulder. Her hands find the loofah she once bought for the bathtub, and rubs it along his chest and arms. Dean leans back a little more, closing his eyes. “Why is there blood at the back of your ear?”

Shit, he didn’t wash himself good enough at the bunker, was in too much of a hurry to get home.

“Deal gone wrong,” He says, doesn’t lie to her but also sparing her the details.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask more, only washes the blood away with the loofah. And Dean’s thankful for that, thankful that she never freaks out when she sees him coming home with blood stains, when he sometimes comes home when the sun’s already up. She’d be asking why but she never presses for more details. Details that Dean would give her if she really wants to know but he’s glad that she never asks.

“How do you feel?” She asks as she places little kisses on his neck and shoulders.

Her hands skids down his abdomen along his hips, strokes his thighs with just the tip of her nails. It does something to him, he can’t lie.

“Better now.” He says and closes his eyes. “Feels go— holy shit!”

Y/N has one hand around his cock, one cradling his balls at the same time and she laughs into the back of his neck.

“Does this feel good too?” She licks at his throat, sucks at his pulse point.

“Super good.” He closes his eyes back again.

After a while Dean can’t help but fuck up into her fist. He turns his upper body around, seals his lips around hers and kisses her hungrily as she continues to jerk him off.

“Baby,” He’s breathing hard, pulls himself together, doesn’t want to come yet. “I really want to come in you.”

He likes that the most. Coming inside of her so deep that she leaks him a day later. He loves the thought of her going about her day with his cum leaking out of her, feels a weird sense of pride.

“Come on,” He stands up and gets out of the tub, fishes her out of it and carries her over to the shower. He turns on the shower head and drops her down, helping her clean herself and him from excess bubbles.

Dean’s towels himself off and holds a towel ready for her, wraps her in it and carries her out to the bedroom.

Dropping her off onto the bed, he unwraps the towel around her body, feels like a kid unwrapping its present.

“How do you want me?” Y/N whispers in a playful seductive voice and honestly whenever she uses that voice, he’s ready to give her the world.

He rids himself from his towel, bends down to kiss her. “How do you want me?” Taking her question and throwing it right back at her.

Dean’s really okay with everything she wants. She’s been experimenting more lately, and had told him that he’s awakened kinks in her she never knew she had. So far spanking and choking are still high on her list, and Dean’s perfectly fine with that. Sometimes she asks to choke him too, and god, he really doesn’t know how he deserves her.

She reads a lot of magazines, and decides that some kinks are really weird and she’s not gonna touch them with a 10-inch pole. However he was surprised that one day when she was sucking his dick, she wanted to go further down. Said she heard it was supposed to feel good for men, and she said it with that seductive playful tone in her voice that Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to deny her that, even if he would have tried. That was the story of how she rimmed his asshole. And to his surprise, he really really enjoyed it and came so hard, he thought he passed out.

“I want you to fuck me from behind.” She has her hand clasped over her face, still feels embarrassed to say things like that and it’s really cute.

“Then get up on all fours.”

He watches her climb up their bed, watch her position herself to face the mirror, because that’s how it is, he still wants to be able to see her and the only condition that he would fuck her from behind is if there’s a mirror somewhere.

Dean follows her, walking closer on his knees. “On your elbows, sweetheart.” He says and places his hands on both her ass cheeks, spreading them, kneading them. “Christ, look at you, so fucking perfect.”

He brings his hand down, spanking her twice in successive strikes. The light from their bedside tables illuminates the room enough for him to see his hand-prints. He kneads at her flesh, red and pulsing.

“Fuck,” He says it more to himself as he lowers his face, licks into her pussy, his nose buried in her ass-crack, while his hands spreads her wide open.

Y/N whimpers and withers, grinding her ass against his face so much that Dean needs to remind her to stay still by spanking her twice more. “Babe, you gotta let me do this in my own time.”

“I want you to fuck me.” She whines, and then she even begs, “Please?”

He lifts his head from her cunt and whispers, “I barely prepped you,”

“Don’t need prep, I’m ready, likes it when it hurts a little, please, Dean!”

He’s so fucking gone. He knows he should put his foot down, knows he should tell her that she’ll be sore if she won’t let him do this but he’s also fucking weak for her. How can he deny her this?

“I swear, if you’re sore tomorrow I’m not gonna take care of you.” He tries to sound annoyed, but he doesn’t think that it came across that way because who is he kidding? Of course he’s gonna sit down with her and massage her to make things better.

Dean pushes in two fingers, feels that she’s plenty wet. That’s never been a problem with her anyway, but still.

He spits into the palm of his hands, strokes himself some more before he positions his dick at her entrance. Spreading her ass cheeks, he pushes in, watches as his dick disappears into her wet pussy, groans at how good it feels.

“You feel so good.” He says, his voice a little broken.

She keens before him, “More. More, Dean. I want you deep.”

Jesus Christ!

He works his hips forward, only stops when he bottoms out. Has to still as not to fucking come but she’s having none of it, works herself forward and back, starts to fuck herself on him.

“Baby, fuck,” Dean breathes hard, once, twice. Brings his hands down, spanks her once more, just because he can.

“Faster, Dean.”

He brings his hands down again, let them rest on her cheeks and uses it for leverage as he moves his hips faster, harder until he has to slow down because she’s wearing him out.

“On your chest, baby, ass up, stay on your knees.” He says, pushing her forward. “Just like that.”

She has her face on the mattress but her eyes still stare at him through the mirror.

“Hands back here, spread your ass for me.”

Her hands come up to the back, hold her ass cheeks apart and Dean can see his dick stretching her pussy as it goes in and out. What a fucking beautiful sight.

“That’s it,” He whispers, has to keep himself from drooling. “Good girl,”

There’s a clench of her pussy. Happens every time he praises her. It became his weakness too.

He sucks in his middle finger, makes it wet and works it along her rim before resting it against her asshole. He pushes in a little, feels it opening up to hug the tip of his finger. “Where’s my finger, baby?”

Y/N’s mumbling something incoherent at first and he has to ask again.

“In— in my ass.”

“In your ass, that’s right. Do you like it there?”

“Shit, yes!” The flush of her face spreads to her upper back. “You can go deeper, the pressure is so good.”

Dean chuckles, “You’re fucking amazing,”

He starts to fuck her harder again as he works his middle finger in. Wonders if she would let him fuck that hole too, thinks that if she would he wouldn’t survive it because it’s so tight his dick would probably fall off.

When Dean can’t take it anymore, he pulls his finger out of her asshole, spanks her once, twice, before he works his hand around her hip, gripping her tight.

“I’m close. Go on, touch yourself.”

She props herself back on her elbow, brings a hand to her mouth, licks at her fingers before she brings it between her legs to rub at her clit.

Her face is all red, it has spread to her throat too and she’s close. He knows it because it got significantly tighter in there.

Dean fucks into her as deep he can, feels his balls drawing up, there’s a tingle in his spine.

“Oh god,” Y/N says, “You’re so deep, fuck.”

She comes then, collapsing onto her chest and buries her face into the mattress, if Dean had closed his eyes to come a second earlier, he would have missed seeing her face.

He bottoms out, pushes as deep as his dick would go and comes inside of her before he collapses on her back, holds himself up a little as not to crush her. He kisses her shoulder, the nape of her neck.

“I think my soul just left my body.” He breathes and she laughs at that.

Dean rolls down and away from her to give her some space and hears her whine because his dick slips out. She always hates that feeling. Dean doesn’t particularly love it either.

He’s laying on his back and spreads his arm to let her nestle herself beside him. His fingers lazily strokes her back, up and down along her spine. “You’re so perfect it kills me.”

She places her chin on his chest, looks him in the eye. “La petite mort.”

And he thinks, yes, that’s fitting.

CH24

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean wincheser smut #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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theblackberrygirl · 4 years ago

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Claustrophobic

A Drabble in @themetaphorgirl’s universe, Patron Saint of Lost Causes.

Please understand that the Patron Saint of Lost Causes universe does not belong to me!! It belongs to @themetaphorgirl on tumblr! I have her permission to play around in her universe. Thanks!

Criminal Minds belongs to CBS

Also please recognize I am not nearly as good at writing as Caitlin, I don’t even come close.

“Hide and seek,” Garcia said decisively. The group was trying to find some way to pass the time on the stormy day, and they’d been brainstorming for about the past ten minutes.

“I love hide and seek! Alex, are you going to play?” Spencer asked excitedly. When she saw the hopeful look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no.

“If it’ll make you happy for me to play hide and seek, then I’ll play hide and seek. Be warned however, that I am not good at it.”

“Great, you can be seeker then. Hotch, you in?” He sighed.

“I guess I should leave Miller to be the only responsible person here. I guess.”

“Yay!” Penelope squealed. She got confirmation from JJ, Derek (he could never say no to his baby girl), Dave, James, and even Elle agreed to play.

“None of you can tell Strauss about this, understand? She’ll hang me by the flagpole if she finds out,” Elle warned them.

“Deal,” Penelope agreed as she shook the RA’s hand. “What about you Em? You in?” Emily looked around at the hopeful faces of her friends.

“Sorry guys, but I think I’m gonna sit this one out,” she declined.

“Come on Emily, please? If you say yes, I’ll buy you coffee for a week and I won’t make you sing along to the Hamilton soundtrack with Jayje and me.”

“Jayje and I,” Alex corrected her, without even looking up from her book.

“What book are you reading today Al?” James asked from his spot on the couch next to Dave.

“Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Technically rereading,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the page.

“Anyways,” Penelope interrupted. “Will you play?” Emily looked into her eyes and immediately regretted it. Much like Alex with Spencer, she couldn’t turn down Penelope’s hopeful expression. She sighed heavily.

“Ok, fine.”

“Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Garcia engulfed her in a bear hug tightly, and it made Emily feel better about her decision to play. It didn’t soothe the uneasiness in her stomach though.

————————

“Ready or not, here I come!” Alex announced into the mostly empty building. Almost all of the other students had gone to the movie theater in town to ride out the rain. Within seconds, she found James.

“Seriously? That was the best spot you could find?”

“What can I say, I’m not good at this game either.” That was a lie. He’d hidden in a bad spot close to Alex so that he could spend more time with her. If Dave or God forbid, Emily, found out about that, he would never hear the end of it.

“That makes two of us. Now come on, we have hiders to seek.” They found Dave next. He obviously didn’t care that much, he had just been hiding underneath a couch.

“Wow, put a lot of effort into that hiding place, huh Dave?” James commented sarcastically as he helped pull his friend up.

“Clearly more than you did, you were found first. But something tells me that was intentional.” James elbowed Jim hard in the ribs, but luckily Alex didn’t seem to have heard him.

Surprisingly, they found Spencer next. He had been hiding behind some curtains, and they wouldn’t have found him if he hadn’t let out an adorable little baby sneeze.

“Aw, honey are your allergies acting up again? Here, let’s swing by my dorm room and get you a pill,” Alex said as soon as she found him. It was expected though; Spencer was her baby.

She wasn’t expecting to find anyone hiding in her and Emily’s dorm, but to her surprise, she found both Elle and Hotch in there, each hiding under a bed.

“Alex, why do you need so many books?” Hotch asked as he crawled out from underneath her bed. “You would think that the provided bookshelf would be enough, but you’ve got a hidden library under there too.”

“Don’t make fun of my books, Hotch, I work in the library, what did you expect?”

“She has a point,” James backed her up.

“Oddly enough, your roommate has a decent collection too. Nowhere near yours, but it’s sizable,” Elle said as she brushed the dirt off of her clothes.

“Huh. Who knew Prentiss was a bookworm?” Rossi commented as he checked to see if anyone else was hiding in the room.

“She does read, just not in front of other people,” Alex confirmed as she got Spencer his allergy pill- the initial reason for coming in here. “Now come on, we still have 4 kids to find.”

—————————

Emily looked around for a good spot to hide as she heard Alex counting in the other room. Thinking fast, she threw open an old trunk and clambered inside. It was pretty large, and old. She got situated as best as possible before closing the lid. Now she waited.

————————-

“Seriously? That was a good spot,” Derek complained as he walked out of his discovered hiding place; he had been behind some clothes hanging in a wardrobe.

“Good, but not good enough. You weren’t first at least,” Rossi said as they continued searching. They had found James, Dave, Spencer, Hotch, Elle, and Derek, now they just needed JJ, Penelope, and Emily.

————————-

“I don’t think there’s anyone in here Miller,” Elle said as they searched the room again.

“There’s only one room after this one, and I seriously doubt all three of them are in one room.”

“Hold on,” Hotch said, holding a finger in the air. “Check the trunk.” Dave made his way over to the large chest and pulled on the lid. It didn’t budge.

“Locked. Guess they are all in one-“

“Woah woah woah woah, what did you say?” A voice was coming from the trunk.

“Emily?” Alex asked. “Are you in the trunk?”

“Yeah, I’m in the trunk, what did Dave say about it being locked?” Her voice was growing with concern. Dave and James tried to open it again, to no avail.

“Uh, Emily? Don’t freak out, but the trunk is locked,” Dave informed her apprehensively.

“What?! What do you mean it’s locked?!”

“What do you mean ‘what does he mean?’ It’s locked! How many different definitions of locked are there?” Elle exclaimed. One of her kids was locked in a motherfucking trunk, and she didn’t know what to do. Spencer actually opened his mouth to answer her, but Alex shook her head.

“No no no no no, this can’t be happening,” Emily groaned from inside.

“Emily, deep breaths, it’s ok, just stay calm,” Alex tried to calm her from the outside to no avail.

“Stay calm? How the fuck am I supposed to stay calm? I am trapped in a fucking trunk for the foreseeable future, and you expect me to stay CALM Miller?! Fuck no!” Hotch didn’t even bother to reprimand her language, it was justified right now.

“Emily, you’re ok, it’s just a trunk,” Hotch tried.

“Hey Spencer, are you out there?” She asked, and Spencer nodded before he realized she couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he said timidly.

“Will you tell Hotch what ‘claustrophobic’ means? I don’t think he knows.” Emily’s voice was starting to shake, and Alex could hear mild hyperventilating from inside.

“Claustrophobic; the irrational fear of tight, small, or cramped spaces such as closets, elevators, cabinets, tunnels-

“Thanks Reid, I get it,” Hotch cut him off. “Emily, why did you hide in a trunk if you’re claustrophobic?”

“Well, Hotch, I wasn’t exactly planning on being locked inside when I got in,” she drawled sarcastically. “You can tell me how stupid it was later, just get me the hell out.” Her voice was trembling heavily now.

“I have an idea!” Spencer piped up. “Alex, do you have a bobby-pin?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” she said before pulling one out of her hair.

“And Hotch, do you have a pen of some sort?” Hotch nodded before producing a pen from the breast pocket of his blazer. He made quick work of picking the lock on the chest, before throwing the lid open to reveal a disheveled Emily. Her hair was messed up, her clothes were wrinkled, and her eyeliner and mascara were smeared from crying. As soon as she stood up, she gave Spencer a bone-crushing hug.

“Thanks kid,” she whispered.

“Uh, Emily? You’re kinda crushing me,” he said awkwardly, prompting Emily to let go of his tiny body.

“Since when can you pick locks Pretty Boy?” Derek asked.

“I read a book on it,” he explained, as if it should be obvious.

“You read a book on lock-picking?” Alex questioned, amused. Spencer nodded as JJ and Penelope came in from wherever they were hiding.

“What took you guys so long? We’ve been hiding forever.”

“Princess here got locked in a trunk,” Morgan laughed. Garcia rushed forward to hug her and asked if she was ok, while JJ burst into laughter.

“Why are automatically locking chests even a thing?” She asked the room as she attempted to smooth her hair out.

“I don’t know, but I wish I had been here to see it,” JJ laughed, tears coming out of her eyes.

“Don’t worry JJ, I’ll fill you in on all the details later,” Derek promised.

“Oh no you won’t. This will never be spoken about again,” Emily warned.

“What are you gonna do Princess?”

“I will break your fingers,” she deadpanned.

“Point taken. Now, I’m starving, and it’s time for dinner, so let’s go.”

“You just ate, like, 4 granola bars before we played, how are still hungry?” Elle pointed out. Morgan just shrugged.

“I’m an athlete, what can I say?”

“So’s JJ,” Elle argued.

“Anyways, it is dinner, and I’m hungry too. Let’s go,” Alex interjected. They all filed out of the room towards the cafeteria, eager to get something to eat, the day’s events cataloged in their memories.

Just one more of the very limited things they knew about Emily Prentiss.

#au:-patron-saint-of-lost-causes #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #alex blake #penelope garcia #jj #jennifer jareau #david rossi

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jamiedc-they-them · 4 years ago

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Control Z (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: “Agents of shield x reader where the reader went with Bobbi and the rest of the agents to the safe house to try and take Skye back to HQ and when Skye quakes the bullet away they all fly back; maybe the reader’s leg gets impaled by part of a tree?”

You felt the pain, but you also felt hazy. To you, the world was like a blur, with dark spots dotting around your vision as the sound seemed to be muffled. The main thing you registered was strong arms pulling you back.

You were then placed down on the harsh and cold floor of the Quinjet, as you were you saw something come into your vision; blinking, you saw it was none other than Bobbi Morse.

You had seen the woman worried before, hell you all were going in when you went to get Skye; but now that concern had been paled to you as you were sure you didn’t look the best.

“Y/N? I need you to focus, keep your eyes on me and keep them open.” Was all she asked.

You did your best to oblige and give her into her demand.

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Grant Ward was someone you had once called a best friend. However, when you met Skye, he had competition about the best friend name. You knew you could have more than one, but this was the position of top best friend.

After Grant Ward betrayed you all, that spot went to Skye in a heartbeat. Despite that, his betrayal had hurt you both more than anyone else.

If anything, it had made you look out for the girl more. Now, you had no ill will towards her old partner, Miles. But…Ward was another thing.

“What is it with you and your choice in men?” You asked, not in a hurting manner; but you still had to ask.

“I’ll get back to you on that,” She said with a small chuckle, “But, if it helps, I’ve changed that…or am trying to,” She thought about her next words; but ultimately decided to say them, “I appreciate this Y/N, really I do. I love you for it….but, my choices are my choices. I just need you to do something for me,” You nodded, “Let me make them, just have my back if they backfire, ok?”

You got the want, “You’d do the same for me,” but you still made that argument, “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Skye looked like she wanted to say something, but ultimately just nodded; knowing that the oncoming fight would be a pointless one.

She knew you would, with how you offered to go instead of Simmons to the HYDRA base, pretty much begging Coulson to let you go.

He, however, denied you; reasoning it as pointless revenge for what had happened to your father. Skye knew he had hit a spot with those words; she had seen the hurt in your eyes and the way his one softened to your figure.

Your father had been killed by HYDRA during the takeover. He knew it wouldn’t heal over night; but he also saw how it made you around the team; even more protective and willing to do anything to help them with their own issues.

Simmons was outed, and Skye wanted to save her friend. You wanted too as well; however, you kept your eye on your best friend to assess what her next move was going to be. She looked to you in a pleading fashion.

May would not let her go, but she knew you would back her up with her choice, “Skye.” You said, trying to make her reassess her options.

“Look, Y/N, Simmons has been outed...I know May said there’s a plan; but I need one of my own. I could meet my father, Y/N….I need to check.” She argued to you. You sighed, but softened a little and nodded, knowing it would be wrong to try and keep her from at least trying.

“Ok.” Was all you said.

You both held up flashlights as Skye led you down the alleyway, your lights showed you a number, “450”; then you moved your lights to another door, “451” you both drew your weapons as you slowly approached it.

Skye went on one side, you on the other; she looked at you and you both silently counted to three before opening the door and sweeping the area together.

It was empty, at least for now anyway. There was nothing but your own tense breathing and blue lights that lit up the area. It was run down, very run down by the looks of things.

“Hello?” Skye called out.

“Oh yeah, let’s just announce herself.” You whispered to your friend.

“Shh!” She reprimanded you as you both continued towards a slightly opened door, “Anyone here? You wanted to meet. Well, here I am.” She said you both got closer and closer to the door.

You were there, you were at the door. You and Skye both shared a look, but you took a step back as you let her count herself down before kicking the door in. She went in first, then you followed her. You both checked for anything; only to find nothing instead.

“Where did you go?” Skye asked out loud. You both holstered your weapons as you continued looking around. Instead of being in action mode, now it was sleuthing mode.

However, it didn’t take long for Skye’s flashlight to go over something that made her call out your name. You turned to your friend, before following where her flashlight was pointing; it was pointing to a picture on the floor of a man holding a child.

She picked it up and looked at it, with you looking at it too over her shoulder. The man looked so innocent, as did the child in the picture.

A hand on your shoulder spun you around, with Skye turning with you in case it was a threat. It wasn’t, it was only Coulson.

He looked from the picture to you both, “So he was here?” He asked.

Unshed tears appeared in Skye’s eyes, “Yeah,” She said softly, her voice slightly cracking as she said the words, “I just wanted a glimpse.” She knew that she wasn’t in any real trouble; neither of you were, but she still felt that she needed to try and justify why you had come along with her.

“You’re having one hell of a day, huh?” He asked in a sympathetic tone. The tone made some tears fall as the two shared a hug. Coulson looked to you over Skye’s shoulder, he held out an arm for you as well. You quickly filled that with your own body.

Skye was in the middle of a hug that told her that she wasn’t alone on this, “We’ll find him.” He told her.

“We’ve got you.” You added as you tightened your hold on the two, “We’ll find him, Skye. We’ve got your back all the way.”

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Jemma was home, you had ran and hugged your friend instantly and tightly; she returned the hug, having missed these a lot.

“Bobbi?” You asked, pulling back from Jemma; you old friend chuckled a bit as she was ready for your hug. You jumped and tackled her into said hug.

“Hey, Y/nn.” She greeted as she pulled away first.

“You saved Jemma?” You asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“She was sent in to be a lookout for me, I wouldn’t have made it without her.” Jemma told you; you, however, just looked between them both happily. Now you had your new friends and your old ones.

“Still running around fixing other people’s problems I see.” Bobbi noted, you looked between the two; as if accusing Jemma of having talked. Bobbi quickly continued, “I’d like to say I knew you, but I know you, Y/nn….I’m just glad you’re alive.”

You knew that there was something in her words; not malice….but something. You, however, looked past it in your elation at seeing both of your friends safe and sound, “You too, Bobbi.”

Ward was going to be moved, his brother was gong to pick him up. Coulson, knowing it before you would ask, let you go with Skye to talk to Ward.

“Y/N, long time no see.” Ward greeted, smile more disturbing than you’d let on.

“You only speak to them if spoken to; you speak to them out of line or break that rule, and I will walk, just like last time.” She threatened him with a mostly apathetic voice, but you heard the anger that boiled under the surface.

“Which one?” He asked.

“Your older brother, the Senator.” Skye clarified for him.

“Christian. Why? What happened?” He asked as he ran a hand down his face as if he’d been through this before.

“We just need basic information: Habits, places he frequently visits, stuff like that.” She listed off for him.

“He’s not what he seems. He always has an angle. And if he thinks that you can lead him to me…” He said in slight fear of his brother.

“Says the man that had another angle the whole time I knew him for.” You said, letting your own hurt of his betrayal being known.

“This isn’t about you.” Skye said, wanting to get Ward back on track.

“Isn’t it? Don’t you remember what happened at the well, what he made me do? He gets joy from one thing. Hurting people.” For a moment, it looked like Skye as going along with it; so, you kept an extra eye on him, “So tell me, please, does he know I’m here?” He asked one more time.

“Not how it works, Ward. You answer our questions, remember?” She said that moment being forgotten.

“And I always do. I always tell you the truth. But if Christian knows that I’m here –” Skye cut him off.

“You always tell me the truth?”

“Yes.” Skye scoffed at his answer, “I promised you I’d never lie to you. And I haven’t.” He said; the next moment however, he seemed to change tactics, “What’s this really about?”

“I need information about your brother: People, connections –”

“Is this about your father? Because I wasn’t lying about him. He’s alive, and he’s –”

“A monster.” You spoke up, not allowing him to talk in a manipulative way to your friend, again.

“You forgot to mention that detail.” Skye said, in a quieter voice.

“You found him.” Ward said, as if proud of himself.

The next moment, the screen appeared over his cell, you both turning back to see Coulson looking at you both with an unreadable expression.

Coulson told you both that Ward had, in fact, given you something; before berating you both for slipping off track.

As he walked away, Skye looked to you, “I’m sorry that I –”

“No, no. Not your fault. If my old man was still here, I’d probably do the same in your shoes.”

The next time you saw Grant Ward, he was being led by the guards; yourself and Jemma stood in front of Skye in a protective manner. As he passed you, he looked to Skye, “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” Jemma threatened.

Grant then looked to you, softening slightly at your years of friendship, “See you in hell, asshole.” Was all you said.

Bobbi had returned later, finding you saw in the main lounge, drinking a drink late at night. She looked at the sight a little fondly, remembering to when you would do that with your father.

Then she remembered what had happened to him.

She entered, taking a seat next to you and just watching you for a few moments before she spoke, “Heard you and Skye spoke to Ward today.” She said, testing the waters.

“Yeah, went great.” You drank a large gulp as you responded.

Bobbi took a moment, thinking about whether or not she should say her next words; however, she eventually went with them, “You know his death wasn’t your fault, right?” the words were blunt; the words were harsh; the words were the last thing you wanted to hear.

You slammed your bottle onto the table as you stood up, pushing yourself up and moving to the other side of the table, putting your hands on your hip as you paced a little before looking at your friend with misty eyes.

“Then whose was it?” You asked, “If not mine, then whose? I wasn’t there, Bobbi! I should’ve been, but I wasn’t. I – I can’t let the others down like that.” You said, voice quivering slightly as you said your words. You quickly wiped at your eyes, as if your friend wasn’t watching you like a hawk during this moment.

“They don’t need you to play overwatch.” Bobbi said, sitting against the table now, closer to you.

“Who else is gonna?”

“Look, what happened to your dad –” You moved to her as she started to talk, pointing a finger at her in anger.

“What happened to him should’ve of! Skye has the chance to see her father, to find some fucking family! I’m gonna get her to them, she deserves that.” You softened your voice as you continued to talk, seeing that you had lost control.

“Agent Y/N,” You both and saw Coulson looking between you both, “I need you.”

Turned out, he needed you for a lot things, as things spiralled from there; with Ward getting out and Skye’s father making plays. To say you had your hands full would be an understatement.

For yourself, Bobbi and Hunter, it led to you all tailing HYDRA agents while the others tried to find your find, “HYDRA’s here in a bag way. Some abandoned theatre the, “Ponce de Leon.”” Bobbi said as she called Coulson to let him know, “No. And there’s no easy way in. There are at least a dozen HYDRA soldiers inside.” Bobbi said, after a bit more on Coulson’s end, she hung up.

“Ok, they’re on their way to back us up,” She informed you both as she saw your still tense posture, “Y/N,” You looked at her, “We’ll get her back. Skye’s a smart one, she’ll make it.” She assured you.

The others arrived and you came up with a plan; to stop HYDRA’s drill and then to find Skye. You followed them, taking down any and all HYDRA members in the area. As you continued, you had the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you should be helping in the search for Skye; but here you were instead.

It was right at the end, at the seeming victory that you got the call, “Skye’s still down there.”

You didn’t talk on the way home; you only ran to find your best friend asleep in a glass cage; basically quarantine.

“Y/N.” Bobbi called out as you stood, staring at Skye; she looked broken in the cell, “Y/N, look at me,” You complied, “Look, this was out of your control –”

“So was my father, Bobbi.” You snapped.

“It was,” You didn’t expect such a blunt statement, “But that, like this, is not your fault. You are not responsible for this.” For once, you listened to her words; you seemed to have some understanding of them.

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You were all in new territory, now just flying in the dark; Jemma was terrified of what had killed Trip and feared that Skye had been infected with some sort of parasite. So, in a way, she was patient zero.

You, however, did all you could to try and visit Skye as much as you could as Coulson would keep sending you on missions to get you away and try and help you not worry about her and this new situation. He knew you would, they all were worried; he just thought that this would be the best way to help you deal with it.

That led to a confrontation with Skye’s father; the guy wasn’t exactly what you wanted him to be for your friend. Right at the current moment, you were with the others and going to confront him and his goons, while using Skye as (sadly) bait to draw him out.

He took it, meeting you all on an abandoned football field; part of it made sense with the different sides and all.

However, this game would be anything but clean. As, while you only had one powered person on your team, they had a few.

You were with Bobbi, fighting against your opponent a woman who had sharp claws as fingers. You had tried to talk her down, however the woman didn’t want to come with you. She swung at you, you ducked as Bobbi used her batons against your assailant. You managed to get a punch in, before you leaned back to dodge another attack.

As you fell back, Bobbi covered for you, sliding over the table and grabbing a towel that she then wrapped around Karla’s hands and threw her into a wall.

“Get back!” Bobbi warned you as she used her batons to hit the table and raise it up, the other end sending Karla back and making her finally fall unconscious.

It was after that when you had felt the vibrations on the floor. Bobbi looked to you and opened her mouth to advice against your next actions, but you were already running out before she could.

“SKYE!” you yelled as the vibrations stopped and your friend started to collapse, you didn’t make it in time, however. Instead, she hit the cold grass with a thud.

Simmons had made gloves to help suppress her power, to try and help mitigate any further damage to herself.

Bobbi, meanwhile, had vanished for a small time. However, before she had left, she had seemed to ask Andrew to give you a therapy session. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to get out of this one, so you knew you had to go.

So, now you sat with Andrew opposite you, with one of his arms swung over the sofa his on to try and get himself comfortable; you, meanwhile, were tense.

“Y/N, I know you don’t want to be here. But I do appreciate it.” Andrew said, his words sounded honest; but he could tell you were still thinking about other things other than this moment.

“Yeah, well, you get more money for this and Bobbi gets to do whatever she wants to do without my constant badgering so, you know.” You said.

Andrew laughed a little, “I know you’re worried about Skye, but you have no need to be –” He tried to assure you of that; but you spoke over him.

“Of course, I am, I’m her friend and she’s going through something right now and no one is there to help her.” You said in a defensive manner.

“Everyone is doing their best for her –” Again, you stopped him; but he didn’t seem to mind.

“They’re shit terrified of her.” He caught onto your wording.

“And you aren’t?”

“For her, sure; but not of her.” You clarified.

“I see, so your own issues don’t really matter?” He asked, seeming to fin something to bring it full circle, back to you.

“I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m onto you.” You said, narrowing your eyes at him.

“And what is that?” He asked in a slightly playful voice; maybe he did enjoy his job after all.

“Trying to get me to open up about my issues rather than think about my friends’. It’s cute. But, out of them, Bobbi and I are the oldest, so I’ll do what I need to for them.”

“Ah, so it’s a big sibling motivation driving you.” He said. Now he was getting somewhere.

“I guess, even if I didn’t have one.” You said, having never really looked at it that way before; you had to give him that.

“Maybe it’s more a of an almost parental thing. After what happened with your dad –”

“….He was always involved in my life for as long as I could remember,” You said, deciding to just come out with it, “I mean, I guess I got lucky there,” You let out a humourless laugh, thoughts going back to your friend who was locked up, “And he….he never let me in on his – So – So when HYDRA….” You trailed off, feeling yourself feel the guilt and pain.

However, for once, you felt the comforting presence that your friend had ordered to be by your side; seemed Bobbi knew you better than you gave her credit for, “I just….One minute he was there, then he was gone. I just want Skye to have a moment with her father.” You admitted, more tears appearing in your eyes as you pretty much laid yourself bare.

“I know Coulson’s trying to fill that void, and I appreciate it. But I can’t control my own shit. But, maybe by doing this for Skye, I can.” Although, part of you knew how flimsy the justification was. How flimsy and how many holes that answer actually had.

You still stuck with it, however.

“Did you ever get to say goodbye to him?” He asked. As he did, you finally let out a sob. As that happened, however, your best friend just happened to be walking past the room, she looked in and saw you breaking down.

She wanted nothing more than to go and comfort you, but she then remembered what Coulson had told her; about how she needed to be moved.

“Goodbye Y/N, see you in a little while, hopefully.” She said under her breath as she continued to watch you talk to Andrew about your father.

She was happy for you, she was, that you were starting to try and heal. But, then again, she also knew that she’d miss you and knew how you’d most likely react.

After your talk with Andrew, you had felt a little better. But now you were being attacked by someone else.

“Y/N,” May called out your name as they both approached you, “Come one.” Was all she said simply.

You, her and Fitz met up with Coulson as May revealed what was going on, “It’s Bobbi. She’s set off some kind of EMP. She’s gone.” You looked between the older pair with wide eyes.

“What?” You asked.

Now you had two people you called friends stabbing you in the back; and just to add to that, Skye was gone. You tried to find a place to hide, but you then came face to face with the woman herself.

“You fucking bitch!” You cried out as you swung for her, she dodged and then grabbed both of your arms to restrain you; as other agent’s pulled out their weapons.

“Y/N, Y/N calm down! Calm down!” She ordered you as you still struggled against her.

“We’ve found where Skye is, she’s in trouble.” Those words made you stop; but you still glared at your friend.

“Oh god, now we’re bringing them with us?” The bald one said. You already didn’t like him.

“Where is she?”

She was being hounded by SHIELD like she was a threat, you all ran as quickly as your legs could take you to find her. You had, heart racing as you saw her holding a gun to a downed agent.

However, a gun click then made you look at the bold one, “SKYE!” You cried out, she turned to you as the bullet went off. However, the next moment, a pulse knocked you all back and onto the ground.

You were hazy, but you felt a slight pain in your leg.

Skye looked at the destruction she caused, but then she saw the piece of bark that was impaled in your leg. You had only tried to help her, and she had hurt you in the process.

So, she did the only thing she could to keep you safe; she called Gordan and ran.

Bobbi had pulled you onto the Quinjet, the thing immediately took off as she made damn sure to keep you breathing and alive. You were her friend, but you were also Skye’s; and she knew that her other friend would feel mountains of guilt if you bled out because of her own actions.

As soon as it landed, Bobbi called out for Simmons; not a medic, but Simmons. She knew that your friend would be the only one you’d trust in the state you were in.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Jemma said in one breath as she ran to you and helped get you into a bed, “Clear the room!” She ordered everyone else; when they didn’t move, she turned to them, “I said out!”

“Come on you guys.” Bobbi said, helping clear the area. Then it was just you and Jemma.

“Oh, Y/N.” Jemma said in a quivering voice; she never liked to see anyone hurt, but especially not any of her friends.

“Just….just pull the damn bark out.” You told her; she took your hand for a moment before she nodded.

“Alright, you’ll need something to –”

“I can be here; I can hold their hand.” Bobbi offered, knowing she was on uneven ground with Jemma as a friend; but right now, you were a common goal they both shared, to save you.

“Fine.” The British woman conceded; Bobbi moved and grabbed your hand, squeezing it to try and prepare you.

Finally, the bark was removed, and you let out your own scream. Your own bark of pain.

You finally laid back down in your bed as Jemma tied a bandage around said wound. As she did so, Bobbi only kept your eyes on you.

“Did you speak to Andrew?” She asked, trying to keep you distracted; you nodded before grimacing in discomfort for a moment.

“Yeah, guy’s good.” You admitted as Jemma finished and moved to stand next to Bobbi so you wouldn’t have to strain yourself.

“Knew it.” Bobbi said with a smile, one that shook as she was worried about damaging your friendship.

“So, REAL SHIELD, huh?” You asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, long story.” She said.

“Well, I’m sure you can catch me up for as long as I’ll be in here for.” She now looked at you a bit confused, “What you did was shitty; but I’m not going to be going anywhere until this is done healing and until doctor Simmons lets me out,” Simmons gave you a caring smile, despite the tense situation SHIELD was currently in, “Besides, what’s Skye is going through is something I can’t help her with. At least, not on my own. So, we’ve got time until we find her.”

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Your leg had healed just as they were about to go on a mission to try and find Mike Peterson and another Inhuman that had been with Skye. You, of course, volunteered to go, both to save Mike/Inhuman, but also for Skye.

However, the catch as that you needed to work with Ward, so an old friend was coming back into your life one more time.

As you did, one person on your list show up to look at you all from above, “Hey guys.” She said, leaving you all elated.

You hugged your friend, but not tightly; it was still a comforting hug to you both. She hugged you back, taking this as a moment of forgiveness for her. She had better control of your power, but she still worried about whether or not you made it out.

This showed her that you had made it, and that you harboured no ill will towards her for what had happened.

“So, new guy….?” You said in a suggestive voice; Skye rolled her eyes but knew that you could always read her easily.

“There’s nothing thee….not yet anyway.” She said, you chuckled at her words.

Ward was then in the room, seemingly confused as to why you had all stopped talking and only looked at him with death glares. So, he tried to address the elephant in the room; his betrayal.

“Y/N….I’m sorry about what I did to your father.” He said, you only kept a firm look at him; but Skye moved her hand into yours.

“You don’t talk to her about that.” She said, defending you; she squeezed your hand in a sisterly, loving fashion.

“Ok, ok.” Ward said, raising his hands up in the air, getting the message.

He led you to the HYDRA facility to find the guy (Lincoln) and Mike. You followed Skye, making sure to keep him apart from Skye as you all walked and followed Ward. The door opened, and you all instantly got hit by gunfire.

Getting behind cover, you fired a few shots, before ducking back down again on your bad leg. While it had healed, the pain was still there.

Skye noticed your shift on you leg, she knew she had to take care of them quickly. She ran out of cover and held her hand out, the next moment, the HYDRA agents flew backwards.

“Thanks.” You said as she helped you up.

“What are friends for?” She responded with as she helped you up and you all continued on your way.

As you went with Skye, you both came across a few agents; together, you both made your way through them, both working in sync as all the HYDRA guards went to none. Finally, you both shared a nod as you made your way into the room that held Lincoln.

However, the flatline was the only thing you heard, “Hey, hey, hey.” You said, Skye looked up at you, “You can rumble shit, right?” She nodded, “You can save him. You got this.” You told her. She held her hands over his chest and pushed down.

After she did, the machine beeped.

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Skye….Daisy’s mother was gone, as was her father via amnesia. She had gone to her room when she got back, but you heard the crying on the other side.

“Daisy?” You asked, knocking on the door. You waited a moment before the door opened, with a tear-stricken Daisy Johnson on the other side, “Oh, honey.” You said sympathetically as you hugged her and closed the door behind you as she broke down in your arms.

“They’re gone Y/N! They’re gone! It’s not fair!” She cried into your shirt as you ran a hand up and down her back as you pressed your lips onto her head.

“I know it’s not, Daisy. Death never is,” You pulled away and waited until she met your eyes, “But you know what helps?” You asked.

“What?” She asked as she sniffled.

You smiled softly at her, “Talking about it, as it turns out.” You said, sitting on the bed with her.

You knew you couldn’t solve it for her, and that was just a truth you had to live with. But there was something you did know; and that was that you could do the one thing you should’ve been doing in the first place; supporting her.

So, here you were, doing just that

#agents of shield imagine #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d imagine #agents of shield x reader #daisy johnson x reader #daisy johnson imagine

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jatp-thoughts · 4 years ago

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Bobby/ Trevor Wilson Analysis

tldr; Bobby/Trevor from Sunset Curve experienced the trauma of all of his friends dying at 17, when they were hours away from their biggest gig yet. He did his best to still achieve that dream, which he had already lost once before, while also avoiding being constantly asked about his best friends dying and reliving that trauma. He probably had his justifications of why he stole Sunset Curve’s/ Luke’s songs. He’s not a bad guy. Please stop saying he played a role in the boys’ death so he could steal the spotlight, and just imagine what he went through. Thank you. :)

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Bobby/ Trevor is a good person, and yeah he made a mistake and hurt Alex, Luke, and Reggie, but that doesn’t make him the villain of the show. In this essay I will-

Let’s start at the end of Episode 7, when Luke, Alex, and Reggie are talking about their original Orpheum show, and how long it took them to book that show. Alex says “It took us years”, so obviously the band had to be together for years. Therefore the Sunset Curve boys were best friends for years, and with the amount of time they had to spend together to be as good as they were, the boys became each other’s second family. All four of them shared a common dream: to be famous musicians. To be as good as they were, and for them to be playing together for as long as they did, famous musicians is probably the only career path these boys saw themselves doing. For example, Luke gave up EVERYTHING in order to pursue that dream; see Unsaid Emily.

In Sunset Curve, I’m assuming all of the boys helped during the song writing process, but Luke liked to have control over the process (in ep. 7 Luke says “I know I’m not the easiest person to work with” to Julie). I’m sure that all the boys pitched in while Luke was writing songs, as Alex was slightly upset/hurt that Luke and Reggie wrote music without him. (in ep. 3 “Luke and I wrote a killer melody to one of her lyrics” “Without your drummer. Cool.” - Reggie/Alex). And Reggie obviously wrote Home Is Where My Horse Is. I’m sure Bobby made some suggestions and tried writing music, and Luke either vetoed the song or helped him with it. So the point is that the Sunset Curve boys wrote music together, but Luke was the most experienced and liked to control the process.

Anyway, after years of playing and writing together, the Sunset Curve boys finally got to record a demo AND make merch. Then, they booked their biggest gig yet, their Orpheum Showcase. This was the moment they worked so hard for. Their dreams were so close. They played “the tightest they’ve ever played” during the soundcheck. Then bobby, being a normal 17 year old, goes to flirt with the pretty girl, Rose, and tries to impress her. So he passes on getting food with the boys, especially because he’ll have PLENTY of opportunities to get food with them.

Then, shortly after the sound check and only TWO hours before their biggest show yet, Bobby finds out that, not just one, but ALL THREE of his BANDMATES DIED!!!! Just think of how ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIC that had to be for Bobby! He was just playing with them and talking to them maybe what, an hour or two prior? and now they’re dead? Bobby’s BEST FRIENDS, his SECOND FAMILY, is just Suddenly DEAD?! Can you imagine losing ALL of your friends at ONCE? Can you imagine losing all of your friends at once when you’re only 17 years old? You don’t expect any of your friends to die at 17, and bobby lost three friends at 17 at the same time.

Moving on to Bobby’s Trauma. Losing all of his friends at once is a traumatic experience in itself. Now let’s add in a dash of survivor’s guilt, as he chose to flirt with Rose rather than going with the boys (in ep. 1 “Bobby where you goin’ - Luke *Bobby waves hime away while walking over to Rose*... and Bobby says “Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs” when trying to get the to leave him alone with Rose). We’ll also add a dash of having to relive that trauma a lot. in episode 1, the Sunset Curve article that Julie pulls up says “There was a surviving member, Bobby, but no one has been able to track him down to talk to him about his friends dying that fateful night.” Imagine losing all of your friends dying at THE SAME TIME, and then interviewers trying to track you down to talk to you about it. Bobby obviously did not want to talk about that night, at all. And finally, let’s add the trauma of having his lifelong dream of being a famous musician WITH his best friends being snatched away from him when it was within reach.

After the boys death, Bobby obviously struggled with it. He had to have started going to therapy. Not to mention, therapy was still taboo in the 90s, and had a negative stigma associated with it but that’s beside the point. So to avoid being asked about that name, Bobby changed his identity. If no one knew he was Bobby from Sunset Curve, then no one would ask or bring up Luke, Alex, and Reggie. I mean, his BEST FRIENDS DIED. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He also probably struggled getting back into music after they died, because it was a painful memory; similar to Julie’s experience.

But what was Bobby/Trevor going to do with the rest of his life?? He’s got his whole life in front of him, and the only thing that he identified himself as was a musician. It was his dream, and it still is. Bobby didn’t have any other interests. All he knew was music. He knew how to play his guitar, had some experience writing music, but wasn’t that great. But he also still had the unrecorded Sunset Curve songs that he knew would make him famous, as they were going to make Sunset Curve famous. So he released Sunset Curve’s/Luke’s songs as his own.

Obviously, this was wrong, but let’s put ourselves in Bobby’s/Trevor’s shoes for a minute. He still wanted to be a famous musician, as that was a big part of his identity; his sense of self was rooted in being a famous musician. With Luke’s/Sunset Curve’s songs, Bobby/Trevor had the means to do it. 1.) Bobby/Trevor could’ve kept the songs for himself, but he wasn’t as good at writing songs as Luke was, so he wouldn’t have gotten noticed or far as a musician. 2.) Bobby/Trevor could’ve released the songs and given Luke, Reggie, and Alex writing credits, but then people would put 2 and 2 together and figure out that Trevor Wilson = Bobby from Sunset Curve, and then interviews would solely consist of him being asked about the boys, if he missed them, why he changed his name, if he felt bad or guilty becoming a famous musician without them, etc. and then cue him having to relive that trauma. 3.) Bobby/Trevor could’ve mentioned “3 special friends” similar to what Julie did during Stand Tall, but once again, people could look into his age and where he’s from and put 2 and 2 together and then Sunset Curve and the boys would be brought up. 4.) So Bobby/Trevor probably thought that he could just release them on his own and justified it by A. there wouldn’t be any direct repercussions since his friends were dead and it’s not like they were coming back B. He would be honoring them in a way by releasing their songs; Luke’s music would still be famous and C. He would still be able to protect himself from people bringing up that trauma. So he released Sunset Curve’s/Luke’s songs, and achieved his dream, and in a way Sunset Curve’s dream.

25 years later, Trevor is obviously still in therapy, and goes enough to the point where his therapist is on retainer. (In ep. 4 after the boys haunt him and write “hello bobby” in the steamed mirror, he runs out and says “no no no Trevor, nothing that Dr. Crystal can’t handle.” and then tells Carrie “ I’m gonna see my therapist, okay? Okay.”) Like, no appointment. He was just going to go see his therapist. And seeing his old name that he probably hasn’t been called in 25 years shook him to the core. The only people in his life now that knew his old name were his parents, Rose, Dr. Crystal, and any siblings he might have had. So seeing his old name being written on a steamed mirror when no one else was in the bathroom freaked him out because the only people who knew that was his name were his parents/siblings, his therapist, or DEAD.

So, in summary, Bobby/Trevor did not poison the street dogs, or have any role in their death. He was a 17 year old boy about to achieve his dreams with his best Friends and wanted to flirt with the pretty girl when ALL of his friends died. He didn’t know what else to do with his life than be a musician so he released Luke’s songs, but didn’t credit them as he didn’t want anyone to know that he was Bobby from Sunset Curve to avoid reliving that trauma because people and interviewers would ask bobby/Trevor about them constantly. Bobby/ Trevor experienced a trauma, probably justified his releasing the Sunset Curve songs without mentioning them, and is still going to therapy 25 years later.

Also, this is a side note, but I think Rose and Bobby became close friends, and Rose helped Bobby get back into music after the boys died, just like the boys helped Julie get back into music when Rose died.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #bobby jatp #trevor wilson #trevor jatp #tw death #tw: death #rose jatp #luke jatp #alex jatp #reggie jatp

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years ago

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Disqualifications or Needed Rest

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content. Chapter-specific warning: This chapter contains mention of pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness, and Braxton Hicks contractions.

Summary: Snuka goes after both Roddy and Kirby, causing Rod and Snuka to get disqualifications and into actual fights.

Kirby's POV:

We were in the Boston Garden. I was sat next to the announcers desk and Snuka started yelling at me and then pulled me out of my chair and I fell backwards, over my own feet after trying to get away from a very pissed Snuka. Rod exited the ring, helping me up.

"Ya alright Kirbs?"

"I'm fine, Roddy, I fell over my own feet."

Rod quickly got back in the ring, followed quickly by an angered Snuka, holding a chair.

WHACK

"Roddy!"

I couldn't help the scream that escaped my lips when Rod's chest hit the mat.

I helped Rod to the back and stayed close to him, I turned my back to the locker room door for a few minutes as I leant against the wall, talking to Billie about Tito Santana.

"He's nice to me, hermana."

"So, you went out on a date?"

"Si, y'know, for a guy who's catchphrase is 'Arriba' I think he'd rather be 'debajo de mí'?"

"Billie, what does 'debajo de mí' mean?"

"Below me."

I felt a hand on the back of my arm and before I even realised who it was I had them in a sleeper hold. Upon realising who it was I swiftly let them go.

"I have never been in ma own sleeper hold, but I guess there truly is a first time for everything."

"Sorry, Roddy. I didn't realise it was you and I was just trying to protect mys-"

Rod cut me off with a gentle kiss.

"You're okay baby, if I were you, I would've done the same thing."

"I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, adios."

"Adios, hermana."

"I didn't know you could speak Spanish."

"I can only speak a little Spanish, Rod. I'm not gonna brag about something I'm not good at."

"What else can you do that I don't know about?"

"I speak a little French, a little German, some Norwegian, Irish Gaelic, Scots Gaelic and I speak Welsh fluently."

"How did ya learn to do the sleeper hold?"

"I watched you do it."

"So, you learnt from the best?"

"I guess I did, Roddy, I guess I did."

The next day I was at ringside for another Roddy vs Snuka bout.

After Snuka tossed Roddy back into the ring and cost himself the match he went after me.

Roddy got up just before Snuka started yelling insults in my direction.

Snuka started walking up to me as Roddy went to climb out of the ring.

The moment Rod's feet touched the floor, Snuka slapped me with the back of his hand right to my jaw, sending me sprawling to the floor.

Tony Colon, Jose Luis Rivera, Salvatore Bellomo and SD Jones had to run out to keep Snuka from attacking both me and Rod.

Rod kept going for Snuka until Orndorff, SD Jones and André held him back, with André helping me up.

McMahon gave Roddy three days to cool of, his next match being on the nineteenth and his next fight with Snuka being on the twentieth.

"That fucking asshole."

"Rod, focus on me, forget Snuka for the next three days, focus on me."

"He could have seriously hurt you, or worse…"

"I know," I mumbled out, putting a hand on my stomach, "Let's just get to Ohio and forget about all this shit."

"I'll treat ya, hon. What d'ya want to eat?"

"Burgers, then ice cream with maple syrup and blueberries."

"Ice cream and maple syrup?"

"Don't question a pregnant woman's cravings, boyo."

On the nineteenth, Roddy won against Rocky Johnson.

On the Twentieth Roddy and Snuka had a Fijian Strap match and Rod lost.

On the twenty-first Rod won against Salvatore Bellomo. On the twenty-second Rod won against B. Brian Blair. On the twenty-third Rod won against B. Brian Blair again, and again on the twenty-fourth.

On the Twenty-Sixth Rod lost by disqualification to Snuka.

On the Twenty-Seventh Rod, Adrian and Murdoch won against Snuka and the Samoans and After the show Rod and I hung out with the Tag Champs, Adrian and Murdoch as well as Ventura.

Ventura and me talked about Vickie for a short while and it seemed like Ventura was intrigued by her.

On the Twenty-Eighth in the Landover, Capital Centre. Rod defeated Snuka by Count-out, but they continued to brawl until myself and several others had to hold the two apart. Myself, Valentine, Orndorff and Orton held Roddy back so Snuka could get to the back, without Rod tearing him limb from limb.

On the Twenty-Ninth, Rod once again beat Snuka, after the Show Myself and Rod hung out with Orton and Orndorff.

On the Thirtieth, Rod had another bout with Snuka.

On the First of August, Rod won by count-out against Snuka, following the event we hung out with Ventura, Orton and Adonis.

I started to feel like thee days are blending together or repeating with only minor details changing, like the date and what exactly happens that day.

On the Second of August, Rod won against Snuka by count-out, again.

Again, on the Third, Rod, Adrian and Murdoch won against the Samoans and Snuka.

On the Fourth, Roddy won against Jimmy Snuka, again.

I drove home that night while Rod boarded a flight to Toronto, spending the fifth and sixth on my own.

I decided to spend a couple more days at home, until the Sixteenth.

On the Sixteenth, Rod, once again, had a bout with Snuka, which I was at ringside for.

On Friday the Seventeenth, Snuka noticed me at ringside after getting himself counted out and began yelling at me until the referee pulled him back and admonished him for doing so.

After the show we hung out with David (Schultz), Bobby (Orton) and Paul (Orndorff).

On the Saturday, myself and Bobby were backstage as Piper interviewed Sgt Slaughter.

On Monday, the twentieth Rod had yet another bout with Snuka and I decided to go back home to Salem for some well needed time to myself.

I didn't tell Rod, knowing he would try and stop me from leaving, I just left a note stating 'Need some time off, love you, will be in Salem.'

I reached the house by the Twenty-Third, answering the phone as it rung, right as I entered the kitchen.

"Hello?"

"Hi my love, did ya get home alright?"

"I got back fine, Roddy."

"When are ya gonna be back?"

"I'll be back on the first of September, alright, I'll meet you at the Philadelphia Spectrum, okay?"

"Okay."

I spent the following week, relaxing at home before driving back to see Roddy.

As I walked to ringside the crowd erupted into cheers and shouts of my name as well as 'Piper'.

The crowd continued to cheer as Rod climbed out of the ring and rushed up to me, pulling me into a loving embrace and pulling down my mask to plant a kiss on my lips, whilst the ref counted him out.

André and the crowd didn't seem to care about the fact that I had gotten Rod counted out of the bout, they only seemed to care that the Rowdy one had his right hand woman (or left, if Bob Orton was his right hand man) back by his side.

By the morning of the Seventh, Rod had noticed a subtle change in the way I dressed and I could tell that all throughout the day he was trying to pinpoint what was different about me.

That night, Roddy, Paul and Bobby took turns guessing what was different.

"Ya hair's different?" Orton started

"No."

"You got another tattoo?" Orndorff guessed

"No, although, that does sound like a good idea."

"Ya, uh " Rod paused, scanning from my boots to my hair before a wave of realisation hit him, "Ya finally look pregnant."

"What do you mean, Roderick?"

"The belly, you've got a slight bump."

"You're right, I dislike that I look slightly fat, but you're right."

"You're not fat, ya with child, there's a big difference."

It took another week for Rod to tell everyone.

It took another three weeks for Rod to get jealous of anyone paying me more attention than what seemed necessary.

By the Twelfth of October, I had started getting backache, the occasional passing faint feeling, as well as having some difficulty sleeping and 'Baby Brain' (aka forgetting very obvious things at random times). The morning sickness had gone away by this point.

But, the worst thing I started feeling was Braxton Hicks contractions.

The first time any of this really impacted me was after Rod had filmed a Piper's Pit segment with Tonga Kid on the Sunday.

"Ya alright Kirbs," Rod lifted my chin up, looking me in the eyes before lifting me out of my chair and walking me to the first aiders room.

I was checked out and let go, Rod's confusion when I entered the room quickly becoming anger at what I believe was the perceived notion that they refused to help me.

I grabbed Rod by the collar and planted a passionate kiss on his lips.

"I'm fine, Rod. Braxton Hicks. False contractions."

On the Seventeenth I had to lean on André for support backstage, right after he had pinned Roddy, making Rod justifiably both angry and jealous.

"That motherfucker."

"Roderick. He's my friend, anyway I felt faint and he's taller than me."

"Ya my wife."

"Don't get possessive, Rod."

"I'm sorry, I just, I don't like seeing you in the arms of another guy."

"Don't blame me, if anything, blame the universe."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a giant. Plus, you got me pregnant, right after we got married, which was in June. It's October, I'm due to give birth in February, And … oww."

"You alright, baby."

"Mmn, I'm fine, fucker kicked me."

"As in, the baby?"

"Yeah."

"Is that the first time it's happened?"

"Yeah."

"Did it hurt?"

"It surprised me more than anything."

I grabbed Roddy's wrist, pressing his hand against my stomach as the baby kicked again.

"Oh … my … God."

"Strong baby."

"Strong parents can make a strong baby."

"If I slap you, would the baby kick me?"

"Kirbs, don't you dare."

We started laughing to ourselves over the absurdity of the moment.

We had the Eighteenth off and Rod decided to invite Bret over.

A knock at the hotel room door signified Hart's arrival.

"Hey, Cousin."

"Hi Roddy. Hi Missus Piper."

"Oh, Bret. You know you can call me Kirby."

Both Myself and Roddy had seniority over Bret but we didn't really care much about that, to us he's family, and family comes first.

We spent the day chatting and relaxing with Bret in a café, going over things such as giving Bret advice on how to get the crowd behind him and Rod insisted on him doing promos.

I hadn't realised that Roddy had his hand on my stomach all day until Bret brought it up.

"Rod, why's your hand permanently on Kirby's stomach?"

"Because, Bret, yesterday something very important happened and I'm not missing it again."

"Kirby, what does Roddy mean by that?"

"The baby kicked for the first time yesterday. Rod's just making sure he feels it when the baby kicks or punches."

We were right back to work the following day. The days blended together in my mind up until the Twenty-Eighth, where I remember being backstage whilst Rod did a Piper's Pit segment with Valentine and Captain Lou.

The next day I remember is the Thirtieth, when Rod lost by DQ to Hogan. The only reason I remember this is because I yelled 'Fuck him' when Piper brought up Hogan being the champ after the bout, back at the hotel.

The days blended together for another short while until the Third of November, Making a fuss while Rod was working as Moolah had taken it upon herself to piss me off.

After the show had finished Moolah had taken to questioning me about both my status as a wrestler and if Rod was truly the father of my child.

Rod had to hurl me over his shoulder to stop me from jumping on Moolah and beating her to a pulp.

On the Seventh, Rod made sure I stayed backstage during his match, he did the same on the Eighth, making sure that Schultz, Valentine and Orndorff had me protected.

On the Tenth, Rod made sure I was protected by Orton for the whole show, after both Rod's bout with Hogan and the Piper's Pit segment, we went back to the hotel with Schultz, Valentine and Orton.

On the Eleventh, Rod brought me to ringside with him, but lost to Hogan. Once again, we hung out with Orton, Schultz and Valentine that night.

Between the night of the Eleventh and the morning of the Seventeenth, Rod let me stay at the hotels instead of being with him for shows.

END OF DISQUALIFICATIONS or NEEDED REST

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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theatticoneighth · 4 years ago

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Watching The Queen’s Gambit; on the Remarkable Unexceptionality of Beth Harmon

‘With some people, chess is a pastime. With others, it is a compulsion, even an addiction. And every now and then, a person comes along for whom it is a birthright. Now and then, a small boy appears and dazzles us with his precocity, at what may be the world’s most difficult game. But what if that boy were a girl? A young, unsmiling girl, with brown eyes, red hair, and a dark blue dress? Into the male-dominated world of the nation’s top chess tournaments, strolls a teenage girl with bright, intense eyes, from Fairfield High School in Lexington, Kentucky. She is quiet, well-mannered, and out for blood.’

The preceding epigraph opens a fictional profile of Beth Harmon featured in the third episode of The Queen’s Gambit (2020), and is written and published after the protagonist — a teenage, rookie chess player, no less — beats a series of ranked pros to win her first of many tournaments. In the same deft manner as it depicts the character’s ascent to her global chess stardom, the piece also sets up the series’s narrative: this is evidence of a great talent, it tells us, a grandmaster in the making. As with most other stories about prodigies, this new entry into a timeworn genre is framed unexceptionally by its subject’s exceptionality.

Yet as far as tales regaled about young chess wunderkinds go, Beth Harmon’s stands out in more ways than one. That she is a girl in a male-dominated world has clearly not gone unremarked by both her diegetic and nondiegetic audiences. That her life has thus far — and despite her circumstances — been relatively uneventful, however, is what makes this show so remarkable. After all, much of our culture has undeniably primed us to expect the consequential from those whom we raise upon the pedestal of genius. As Harmon’s interviewer suggests in her conversation with Harmon for the latter’s profile, “Creativity and psychosis often go hand in hand. Or, for that matter, genius and madness.” So quickly do we attribute extraordinary accomplishments to similarly irregular origins that we presume an inexplicability of our geniuses: their idiosyncrasies are warranted, their bad behaviours are excused, and deep into their biographies we dig to excavate the enigmatic anomalies behind their gifts. Through our myths of exceptionality, we make the slightest aberrations into metonyms for brilliance.

Nonetheless, for all her sullenness, non-conformity, and her plethora of addictions, Beth Harmon seems an uncommonly normal girl. No doubt this may be a contentious view, as evinced perhaps by the chorus of viewers and reviewers alike who have already begun to brand the character a Mary Sue. Writing on the series for the LA Review of Books, for instance, Aaron Bady construes The Queen’s Gambit as “the tragedy of Bobby Fischer [made] into a feminist fantasy, a superhero story.” In the same vein, Jane Hu also laments in her astute critique of the Cold War-era drama its flagrant and saccharine wish-fulfillment tendencies. “The show gets to have it both ways,” she observes, “a beautiful heroine who leans into the edge of near self-destruction, but never entirely, because of all the male friends she makes along the way.” Sexual difference is here reconstituted as the unbridgeable chasm that divides the US from the Soviet Union, whereas the mutual friendliness shared between Harmon and her male chess opponents becomes a utopic revision of history. Should one follow Hu’s evaluation of the series as a period drama, then the retroactive ascription of a recognisably socialist collaborative ethos to Harmon and her compatriots is a contrived one indeed.

Accordingly, both Hu and Bady conclude that the series grants us depthless emotional satisfaction at the costly expense of realism: its all-too-easy resolutions swiftly sidestep any nascent hint of overwhelming tension; its resulting calm betrays our desire for reprieve. Underlying these arguments is the fundamental assumption that the unembellished truth should also be an inconvenient one, but why must we always demand difficulty from those we deem noteworthy? Summing up the show’s conspicuous penchant for conflict-avoidance, Bady writes that:

over and over again, the show strongly suggests — through a variety of genre and narrative cues — that something bad is about to happen. And then … it just doesn’t. An orphan is sent to a gothic orphanage and the staff … are benign. She meets a creepy, taciturn old man in the basement … and he teaches her chess and loans her money. She is adopted by a dysfunctional family and the mother … takes care of her. She goes to a chess tournament and midway through a crucial game she gets her first period and … another girl helps her, who she rebuffs, and she is fine anyway. She wins games, defeating older male players, and … they respect and welcome her, selflessly helping her. The foster father comes back and …she has the money to buy him off. She gets entangled in cold war politics and … decides not to be.

In short, everything that could go wrong … simply does not go wrong.

Time and again predicaments arise in Harmon’s narrative, but at each point, she is helped fortuitously by the people around her. In turn, the character is allowed to move through the series with the restrained unflappability of a sleepwalker, as if unaffected by the drama of her life. Of course, this is not to say that she fails to encounter any obstacle on her way to celebrity and success — for neither her childhood trauma nor her substance-laden adolescence are exactly rosy portraits of idyll — but only that such challenges seem so easily ironed out by that they hardly register as true adversity. In other words, the show takes us repeatedly to the brink of what could become a life-altering crisis but refuses to indulge our taste for the spectacle that follows. Skipping over the Aristotelian climax, it shields us from the height of suspense, and without much struggle or effort on the viewers’ part, hands us our payoff. Consequently lacking the epochal weight of plot, little feels deserved in Harmon’s story.

In his study of eschatological fictions, The Sense of an Ending, Frank Kermode would associate such a predilection for catastrophes with our abiding fear of disorder. Seeing as time, as he argues, is “purely successive [and] disorganised,” we can only reach to the fictive concords of plot to make sense of our experiences. Endings in particular serve as the teleological objective towards which humanity projects our existence, so we hold paradigms of apocalypse closely to ourselves to restore significance to our lives. It probably comes as no surprise then that in a year of chaos and relentless disaster — not to mention the present era of extreme precariousness, doomscrolling, and the 24/7 news cycle, all of which have irrevocably attuned us to the dreadful expectation of “the worst thing to come” — we find ourselves eyeing Harmon’s good fortune with such scepticism. Surely, we imagine, something has to have happened to the character for her in order to justify her immense consequence. But just as children are adopted each day into loving families and chess tournaments play out regularly without much strife, so too can Harmon maintain low-grade dysfunctional relationships with her typically flawed family and friends.

In any case, although “it seems to be a condition attaching to the exercise of thinking about the future that one should assume one's own time to stand in extraordinary relation to it,” not all orphans have to face Dickensian fates and not all geniuses have to be so tortured (Kermode). The fact remains that the vagaries of our existence are beyond perfect reason, and any attempt at thinking otherwise, while vital, may be naive. Contrary to most critics’ contentions, it is hence not The Queen’s Gambit’s subversions of form but its continued reach towards the same that holds up for viewers such a comforting promise of coherence. The show comes closest to disappointing us as a result when it eschews melodrama for the straightforward. Surprised by the ease and randomness of Harmon’s life, it is not difficult for one to wonder, four or five episodes into the show, what it is all for; one could even begin to empathise with Hu’s description of the series as mere “fodder for beauty.”

Watching over the series now with Bady’s recap of it in mind, however, I am reminded oddly not of the prestige and historical dramas to which the series is frequently compared, but the low-stakes, slice-of-life cartoons that had peppered my childhood. Defined by the prosaicness of its settings, the genre punctuates the life’s mundanity with brief moments of marvel to accentuate the curious in the ordinary. In these shows, kindergarteners fix the troubles of adults with their hilarious playground antics, while time-traveling robot cats and toddler scientists alike are confronted with the woes of chores. Likewise, we find in The Queen’s Gambit a comparable glimpse of the quotidian framed by its protagonist’s quirks. Certainly, little about the Netflix series’ visual and narrative features would identify it as a slice-of-life serial, but there remains some merit, I believe, in watching it as such. For, if there is anything to be gained from plots wherein nothing is introduced that cannot be resolved in an episode or ten, it is not just what Bady calls the “drowsy comfort” of satisfaction — of knowing that things will be alright, or at the very least, that they will not be terrible. Rather, it is the sense that we are not yet so estranged from ourselves, and that both life and familiarity persists even in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Perhaps some might find such a tendency towards the normal questionable, yet when all the world is on fire and everyone clambers for acclaim, it is ultimately the ongoingness of everyday life for which one yearns. As Harmon’s childhood friend, Jolene, tells her when she is once again about to fall off the wagon, “You’ve been the best at what you do for so long, you don’t even know what it’s like for the rest of us.” For so long, and especially over the past year, we have catastrophized the myriad crises in which we’re living that we often overlook the minor details and habits that nonetheless sustain us. To inhabit the congruence of both the remarkable and its opposite in the singular figure of Beth Harmon is therefore to be reminded of the possibility of being outstanding without being exceptional — that is, to not make an exception of oneself despite one’s situation — and to let oneself be drawn back, however placid or insignificant it may be, into the unassuming hum of dailiness. It is in this way of living that one lives on, minute by minute, day by day, against the looming fear and anxiety that seek to suspend our plodding regular existence. It is also in this way that I will soon be turning the page on the last few months in anticipation of what is to come.

Born and raised in the perpetually summery tropics — that is, Singapore — Rachel Tay wishes she could say her life was just like a still from Call Me By Your Name: tanned boys, peaches, and all. Unfortunately, the only resemblance that her life bears to the film comes in the form of books, albeit ones read in the comfort of air-conditioned cafés, and not the pool, for the heat is sweltering and the humidity unbearable. A fervent turtleneck-wearer and an unrepentant hot coffee-addict, she is thus the ideal self-parodying Literature student, and the complete anti-thesis to tropical life.

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