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road-rhythm · 3 years ago

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Errata, mechanics notes, and miscellany for Hard Mouth

Here are some errata and general notes for Hard Mouth. Likely I'm the only one who cares, but that's good enough for me; I figured I'd be the only who cared about a weird-ass story like HM in the first place. Major spoilers for the entire fic under the cut.

Notes and errata on Dream

Other errata

Other mechanics

Binding

A place for me to dump my own headcanons

I'm relatively new to D&D. When I started watching Critical Role, I'd played one (1) game, and I was hoping listening to CR would help me internalize and remember the rules that were still unwieldy to me. I mainlined Campaign 2 at 3x speed on the podcast and managed to catch up to the live broadcast about three months later, just in time for M9 to lay their trap for the Tombtakers in 2x133.

So: I am a dnd n00b still, I was an even bigger n00b then, and 5e has a lot of spells, subclasses, abilities, effects, monsters, and creatures. Because I am the kind of nerd who fixates on rules, I made an effort to make all the mechanics hold water, but I can't say I cared more about that than I did saying the thing I wanted to say—and also, it was pretty much inevitable I'd miss some stuff.

Which I did.

Notes and errata re: Dream

Hard Mouth exists because I was reading through the wizard spell list, got to Dream, read the description, and went, "Oh. Oh, that could be nasty in the wrong hands." Nobody's nastier than Trent Ikithon, so, boom, a fic about Ikithon waging a Dream siege.

This was well before the party leveled to 15. I'd been sketching stuff out for weeks by the time that happened, so when 2x138 aired and Caleb took Mind Blank, I could've either scrapped the fic or made it AU. I decided to make it AU. It was super-obliging of 2x138 to even offer a handy conceit for explaining the divergence on a Watsonian level with Caleb and Essek sifting through timelines to pull one into being.

Anyway, the first question to ask plot-wise was whether what Trent was attempting could even work. I spent a lot of time thinking about and Googling ways to circumvent or interrupt the Dream spell before I started writing. These were the potential complications I found:

Leomund's Tiny Hut RAW, LTH should block Dream. Yes, really. LTH is bomb for a third-level spell. However, Matt doesn't treat Caleb's dome as a RAW LTH, so I went with how Caleb's dome behaves in Exandria. The description for LTH states that "[s]pells and other magical effects can’t extend through the dome or be cast through it." But C2 has several instances of magical effects extending through Caleb's, in either direction. On Rumblecusp, Caleb still lost memories while sleeping in the dome; Caleb controlled Frumpkin through it, including to watch the conversation the rest of M9 had with the Tombtakers and communicate telepathically with Lucien in 2x122; the Somnovem dreams clearly gave zero fucks; Jester routinely Sent and received replies from inside. So Caleb's dome appears to block localized, directed magical effects and attacks, but not absolutely everything—which, really, makes sense for a third-level abjuration. On a similar note, I've seen some forum posts saying that Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion ought to block Dream, as well. That's inaccurate. Dream works so long as the target is on the same plane as the caster, and MMM is an extra-dimensional dwelling. But you know what probably would have worked? The Happy Fun Ball. Since HM is AU from 2x138 on, I could have stipulated M9 lost the HFB in the Astral Sea or whatever; but the fic was already shaping up to be more than long and complicated enough, and I didn't feel like including a scene or conversational cul-de-sac for no other reason than the mechanics handwave, so I just didn't have it come up. No one's asked about the HFB that I've seen (apologies if somebody did; I do miss comments on previous chapters sometimes), but I wouldn't blame a reader for being annoyed by the omission. I'm at peace with it, though.

Dispel Magic "Shouldn't Dispel Magic at fifth or higher end the Dream spell?" Yes, it would. There is a lot of dispute about how Dispel interacts with various things, but "[o]n a successful check, the spell ends" is pretty clear. Whereupon Trent would cast it again, until he succeeded in inflicting the damage and rest disruption that instantaneously results from the ten-word psychic attack in the event of a failed wisdom save. After God knows how many hours on Reddit and rpgstackexchange and dndbeyond fora and random blogs, the understanding I gleaned—not with any very high degree of confidence—is that Dispel ends ongoing spells and effects, but can't undo the results of an instantaneous event. It can't unring any bells. So what I went with was: if Caleb succeeds on the save, he's good for the remainder of that rest period. If Trent wins in that instant, Caleb takes the psychic damage and loses the benefit of rest for the same eight-hour span. Which actually is giving Caleb a bit of a gift. There's no text in Dream's description that remotely suggests the target is immune for any period if they succeed on their Wisdom save. But Dream is already pretty fucking OP; "one chance per customer" is simpler and seems fair, and it's probably how I'd rule it if I were DMing.

Widogast's Transmogrification The problem with Transmogrification was that for most of the story, they didn't have the components for it. WT requires gem dust and clay. In Aeor, they couldn't lay their hands on either; at Elamrin's, they could have found clay, but not gems. They pick up enough gems in Uthodurn and could have found clay in the Pearlbow; but in-story, at least, that still wasn't their first port of call—not because Caleb "Restore Youth because fuck you" Widogast would have found it too extreme, but because HM sets up from chapter 2 on that elf trance is learned over a period of years. I can't claim I had the foresight to set up that detail to get around WT; frankly, I set it up because I found it appealing at the time. It's there because I liked it. Most things in HM are there because I liked them. Hard Mouth is literally just me throwing out a bunch of iddy stuff and thinking up ways to connect it, and the story is the shape that resulted. Whether someone finds "elf trance is learned" to be fair play or not depends, I guess, on whether they're prepared to consider fanfics setting up their own internal rules fair play or not. Establishing the rules of their fictional worlds is an extremely basic thing all stories must do, so I was fine with doing it wherever it didn't conflict with existing lore. I do think many readers have different standards for fanfic vs o-fic on this score, which is fair. But my only standard for fanfic is, "I do what I want." Possibly I should have had M9 discuss Transmogrification, but as with the Happy Fun Ball, I straight-up didn't feel like writing a scene just to argue mechanics with myself. That's what this post is for.

So those were the mechanical considerations I had at the outset and the conclusions I reached about them. Not finding any magic bullet that would decisively stop Trent from doing what he was attempting in Aeor, I went ahead and started writing.

However, there is one thing that absolutely, decidedly, 100% would have exploded the plot, only I didn't find out about it until I was more than halfway through writing and posting:

Summon Celestial Caduceus and/or Jester casts Summon Celestial and specifies a couatl. The couatl's innate spellcasting ability allows it to cast Greater Restoration (or Dream or Scrying, interestingly enough) once per day. It casts this on Caleb to remove a level of exhaustion.

Boom. Crisis averted.

So, yeah. The other things wouldn't have worked, near as I can tell, but Summon Celestial should. I've seen somebody argue that since Summon Celestial is itself a fifth-level spell, the celestial you summon shouldn't be able to cast fifth-level spells, because that would be free spell slots, ergo the celestial should just be able to fight as an ally and, IDK, hang out; but frankly, I see nothing to support that, and it certainly isn't something I'd do to my players if I were DMing.

Honestly, the only reason I realized the Summon Celestial thing at all was that my home game started playing Tomb of Annihilation. We ran into a couatl NPC, and then I happened to be re-listening to 2x127, where Caduceus summons a couatl while they're at a beach, and went, "Wait a minute." I'm mildly annoyed with myself, but it's not like I had the stat block for couatls memorized when I began, and I wasn't about to start over (I think I was working on chapter 14 or 15 by then).

If I had realized the Summon Celestial option earlier, I still would've written HM, but it would've been a radically different story. Short-circuiting the physical assault early on would have shifted the focus entirely to Trent's psychological warfare. Hard Mouth deals with some of that head-on after Aeor, anyway, with Trent trying to mine Caleb's memory for intel. But the bigger issue was always, "How long does it take to harass someone to death this way?" And removing the physical peril arc would have centered that a lot more.

I think that would have been a much harder story to write, technically and otherwise. The physical exhaustion, and the more tidily defined, understandable crisis it precipitates, actually offloads a lot of the stress of… everything else fucked up in that scenario. It gives Caleb something to focus on so that he can not ask himself questions like, "How much longer can I live with Trent Ikithon having a free pass to my head, with my will and boundaries and separate identity meaning nothing, with custom-made nightmares, with never getting any fucking rest?" Because removing exhaustion isn't the same as resting. That's the weird thing about Greater Restoration. With couatls on tap, Caleb could have just stayed awake indefinitely—physically. But how long could he do that psychologically?

Hard Mouth already skirts those questions: after all, it's not physical exhaustion that makes Caleb seriously consider suicide. But I'm kind of glad I didn't find out about couatls until I was too far in to change anything, because I think it would've been a much bleaker story if I had.

Other errata

In chapter 6, concentration is a mess all over the otyugh fight. First, Essek casts Haste on Caleb to counteract his exhaustion-halved speed. Then Caleb casts it on Beau. But then Caleb casts Wall of Force horizontally over the well M9 are in, using Allura's staff—and that's concentration, too. So Haste should have dropped on Beau there and then, not thirty seconds later in the tunnel. Furthermore, the Dancing Lights cantrip is also concentration, so when Essek cast that in the tunnel, Haste should then have dropped on Caleb. It's not a big deal, as it doesn't change the outcome any; Wall of Force lasts for ten minutes, so six seconds (one round) each for Beau and Caleb to get their breath back before they all crawl into the tunnel wouldn't matter. In fact, there's no reason I couldn't just edit the scene to fix it. But while I care about this inaccuracy enough to be annoyed by it, apparently I don't care enough to override my basic laziness.

Also in chapter 6, the party "finds out what an otyugh is." Just one problem: they fought an otyugh in the Victory Pit! The monster is never named in the episode, and although Matt's description is pretty clear, I never put it together until I happened to check that wiki page for something unrelated just a few weeks ago. Oh, well. My early lack of familiarity with dnd monsters strikes again. At least this error doesn't negate the entire plot.

In chapter 7, Caleb and Essek sit in their respective LTH domes chatting with their heads out. In 2x75, however, Matt specifies that the dome will drop if the caster pokes their head out, which I missed or forgot. On the other hand, in 2x30, the very first time Caleb casts the dome, Liam specifically describes him sticking his head out of it. The reason for 2x75's discussion was because Marisha was trying to figure out if Caleb (whom she was controlling in that ep) could cast while maintaining the dome, and Matt was ruling no, which is very clearly RAI. There's lots of other flavor explanations you can give for that other than "no part of the caster's body may pass through the dome or it drops"—if that were the case, Caleb would surely be hypervigilant about staying away from the wall of it all the time, and he isn't—so I'm not too fussed.

In chapter 13, Caleb doesn't want to ask Jester or Essek to cast Modify Memory on him, so, still with very mixed feelings, he asks Caduceus instead. This is a straight-up goof. Modify Memory isn't a cleric spell, and Jester only has it because of her Trickery domain. I even fucking knew that, but I still fucking forgot, and I've been salty at myself ever since. Whatever. Too late now. Maybe I'll write a timestamp where Jester convinces Artagan to teach Caduceus how to cast it for the lulz.

In chapter 18, I had the changeling Volstrucker direct two of her five Steel Wind Strike attacks against Jester to slay her outright. That was a misreading of the spell: SWS indeed grants up to five attacks, but each one must be against a separate target. However, she would have been able to land in melee range of Jester, as specified by the spell, and then take her second Glyph Chant melee attack the old-fashioned way, which would still have been an auto-crit after the overchanneled force damage. I guess I could go back and edit that, but it would be a more convoluted description for the same end result. Plus, I'm lazy.

In chapter 21, Caleb triggers a Glyph of Warding cast by Jester to contain Essek's Mind Blank. I'm not sure whether most DMs would in fact allow two casters to "collaborate" on a Glyph, but I think Matt "Sure, y'all can do tandem wizardry to break this homebrewed gem and bend reality in a way there's no actual spell for because it's fucking cool" Mercer probably would with an adequate ability check. That's not the error, though; the goof is that GoW specifies that "[w]hen you cast this spell, you inscribe a glyph that harms* other creatures." I straight-up forgot that bit and didn't have occasion to check the spell description until well afterward. Like Modify Memory, this error actually irritates me more than the Summon Celestial short-circuit, because I couldn't have known to ask the question that would have gotten me to Summon Celestial, but goddamnit, I definitely should have known these. Oh, well. *Erratum to the erratum: although the text provided at the above link definitely read "harms" when I wrote this post, as of March 2022, it says what I thought it said when I wrote the chapter: "creates a magical effect." So now I don't know what to think. I live in a world of lies, lies and perfidy.

Other mechanics notes

I made myself a little chart for translating 5e exhaustion levels into practical effects, if that's any use to anybody.

Notes for fan binding

Several people have offhandedly mentioned wanting bound copies of HM, and one person has approached me about it directly. Although I ask that the text is not submitted to any print-on-demand services (due to TOS excluding transformative works and/or granting the service rights to reproducing submissions), I have no objection at all to anybody printing off and/or binding the fic for their own personal use. Even if I did, people should still do it if they want, because noncommercial hobbyist fan binding is neither illegal nor wrong, and AO3 offers download options for a reason.

The only thing to know is that I will probably continue to make ninja-edits to the fic for a couple of weeks forever. After outlining (a lot), writing for me is a process of trying to transcribe scenes and moods out of my head. Sometimes the transcription sucks. Hard Mouth is unbetaed and, other than cursory attempts to proofread when I coded in the HTML, unedited work. I haven't even really read all of it; if I had any plans to produce a second one, I'd call it a first draft. All of which is to say that any time I do open it up on AO3, I find a slew of typos and unnecessary clauses and flat-out cringey prose, and then I fiddle with them. You don't have to care about that, but if you do care about it, well, there it is.

Roadie's headcanon dumping ground

For reasons of flow and focus I ended up not writing it, but at one point I imagined Essek mentioning to Astrid, in their epilogue conversation, that he'd heard that Ikithon tried to teleport right before the Scourgers turned on him, but was counterspelled at ninth. In all the inquests since, no one has been able to determine where that counterspell came from. How interesting, Astrid would have politely replied.

Artagan calls in Beau's agreement to be Polymorphed back into a cockroach at some point at a high-brow, high-stakes diplomatic function at which she is representing the Cobalt Soul.

There were a couple other things that were supposed to go here, but I've already forgotten them. Whatever. I'll shove them in later.

#fic: Hard Mouth #fic notes #Critical Role #dnd #DnD 5e

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years ago

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chasing a feeling - spencer reid

Warnings: angsty, a lot of cursing, smut (nothing too explicit; just a pretty heated make-out session) Word Count: 4.3k Summary: You and the young doctor used to date. Now, years later, you were back in Spencer’s life - much to his dismay. A/N: it kinda takes a bit to get into so i’m thinking maybe of making a part two cause there was soo much more i wanted to write?? // PART TWO IS UP NOW, link at the bottom

“There has to be some mistake.” Spencer exclaimed, an irritated expression now outlined his facial features. “It’s not a mistake.” Emily stated calmly as she sat back down in her chair, eyeing the doctor in front of her with caution almost as if she was waiting for him to blow. But he didn't say anything.

Instead, he was looking down at this hands. Rather at the brown folder she handed him just minutes ago. A folder containing information about the BAU’s new team member. Your information.

He reread your name over and over again. Praying this wasn't actually happening. Hoping this was a dream, a hallucination.

“Spencer, the decision has been made. She starts today.” His eyes darted up instantly to meet Emily’s. His jaw locked. Yes, he was angry. Of course he was angry; as she suspected he would be once the news broke. And in his own mind, he had every right to be.

“I hope you don’t think that because we know each other I’ll be the one showing her around.” He spat flinging the folder onto the desk in front of him. It landed with a soft thud. Emily sighed slightly taken aback by his attitude. She’s never seen him act this way. This wasn’t the Spencer Reid she’s worked with all these years.

“I’ve already asked JJ to take Y/N under her wing.” Spencer flinched at the sound of your name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. No. He shook the thought away. To him, at this moment in time, you were anything but. Evil incarnate. Better.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Spencer, if you want to talk-” “I’m fine.” He interrupted and hurried out of the room. Emily watched him cross the bullpen and disappear behind the glass door. She let out a deep breath while glancing at the clock on her wall. You should be arriving any minute now.

The elevator door opened with a quiet ‘ding’. Taking a deep breath you stepped out where Emily was waiting with a smile on her face. She immediately reached out and shook your hand. “Hi again Y/N, welcome to the BAU.” You squeezed her hand gently - hoping she wouldn't sense your nervousness. “It’s definitely good to be here. Thank you for this opportunity.”

Emily let your hand fall. Still smiling she said; “No need to thank me. Your professional reputation precedes you, I would be a fool not to hire you.” "Still, it’s an honour.”

You followed her through the bullpen. She showed you your desk, pointed to where her office is: “I’ll have JJ give you a more detailed tour later on but right now we have a case.”. You nodded in understanding. “Yes, I packed a go-back when you rang me this morning. It’s in my car.” “Perfect.”

Emily led you to a conference room where you were greeted by the rest of the team. There wasn’t time for deep introductions, just quick shakes off the hand in between a ‘nice to meet you’ or ‘good to have you on the team’. Although one person was missing from the welcome wagon. And you weren't the only one to notice.

“Where’s Reid?” Emily asked glancing around the table. She motioned for you to sit down in one of the empty chairs, which you did. “Spence said he’ll meet us on the jet.” It was the petite blonde who spoke, JJ. “Apparently he had something he needed to do before we left.” Emily nodded. She glanced at you with an apologetic look before turning her attention to the screen at the top of the room.

“Let’s get started.”

As the team discussed details of the case, you stayed silent. You should be paying attention. Your first case with the BAU, your first day. Concentrate. Yet instead your gaze still wondered to the empty seat.

You shouldn't be surprised that he didn't want to be here. A part of you was relieved, however, another part of you was quite hurt. You thought maybe after all these years he wouldn't have cared anymore. Clearly you were wrong. He’s not worth it. And he wasn't. So you shook the weird feeling away and turned your attention to the screen.

Later on the jet, you didn't want to cause a scene once the young doctor finally showed himself therefore you settled into a seat as far away from the rest of the group as possible. You looked out the window, onto the grey tarmac and waited. What you were waiting for exactly you had no idea. If he didn't want to see you earlier, he definitely wouldn't want to see you now. Except now he had no choice.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your thoughts were interrupted and you looked up to find Luke smiling down at you. “First day jitters.” You lied smoothly. He grinned. “Definitely know how that feels. You’re doing great so far.” You smiled as he plopped herself down on the empty armchair in-front of you.

There was a brief moment of silence in which you looked back outside. “So a little birdie told me you knew Reid before his time at the BAU. What was he like?” Luke inquired, making conversation. Your palms began to sweat. How would you even begin to tell him what Spencer was like? Did you even remember correctly? Or was the image you had imbedded in your brain a figment of your imagination; what you wanted to remember.

“Uhm. He was shy.” You smiled to yourself at the thought of the young doctor always tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt. “Well he’s definitely far from that now.” Luke chuckled and added: “Yeah he’s eh, he’s been through a lot in the last year alone. This job squeezes the shyness right out of you.”

And like a ghost from your past he appeared. Almost as if he heard you talking about him. Spencer Reid. He looked different than you remembered. More grown up, older, tired. Handsome. You sat up straight in your seat; your eyes glued to the boy you were in love with all those years ago. The brown haired doctor stood at the top of the plane, a stern look on his face. He scanned the plane looking for a place to sit. That’s when his eyes landed on you.

The air caught in your throat as your eyes locked. Should you wave? No. Smile? Definitely not. Your mind raced a million miles per second wondering what the appropriate thing to do would be while Spencer simply turned away; his attention no longer on you.

“Do you want to go say hello?” Luke asked following your gaze. “Maybe later.” You replied, focused Spencer. From the corner of your eye you could see him nod. He wanted to say something else but he held himself back. “If you don’t mind I’m gonna catch up on some sleep.” He made himself comfortable and without waiting for you to respond dozed off.

Spencer sensed you still looking at him. Why were you looking at him? He wanted nothing more than to scream, tell you to stop, but he was a professional. Spencer Reid was a professional and he wasn't going to let you ruin- ruin- ruin what exactly? He shook the thought away. You were bound to ruin something.

He knew deep down he was being irrational. It has been years since the two of you last saw each other. A lot has happened since then, a lot has changed. Spencer wondered if you changed. He found himself secretly hoping you didn't; you were perfect. No, no. He gritted his teeth causing his jaw to clench.

He glanced in the direction of your seat - why, he did not know. Curiosity maybe. Or did he just want to look at you again. But your seat was empty.

Instead you were stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure out how the pesky thing worked. He couldn't help but snicker under his breath amused. If he was to state the obvious physically you hadn't aged a day. Your hair was different, longer and a slightly lighter colour. He wondered if it still smelled the same. Coconut. Damn it. How could you still have such an effect on him?

In that moment he decided to bite the bullet. Better to get it over with and this was his chance. Suddenly feeling nervous Spencer took a step forward and began to approach you.

“Hi there.” The words came out croaky. No response. You didn't even look up from the machine. Spencer cleared his throat. “You need to turn it off and back on. It’s pretty old so often it needs an additional nudge before it starts working.”

He pressed the button restarting the coffeemaker. Spencer relaxed beside you; he was so close you could smell his cologne. It was intoxicating to say the least. The blood in your veins was pumping faster than it has been all day.

And as if his sudden closeness wasn't bad enough, he reached over to grab the mug you were gripping tightly in your hands. His fingers brushed against yours in the process sending an immense tingle down your spine. He froze for a moment and you couldn't help but wonder if he felt it too.

Eventually, you let out a breath you didn't even realise you were holding. “I thought maybe you would pretend I don't exist.” Spencer huffed at your comment rolling his eyes. The machine began to purr and a black liquid slowly poured into your cup. “I can't ignore you forever. We work together now.”

That last sentence came out harsh. You noticed immediately and your gaze darted up to meet his. The look in his eyes was one you haven't seen before. Dark, hateful even. “If you have something to say just say it. If not, leave me alone.” You hissed as you stared up at him. The coffee machine beeped.

You began to reach for your beverage but Spencer grabbed you by the arm, intercepting, and pulled you in closer to him. His grip strong. A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden movement.

“Let me go.” You hissed as you stared back up at him. His clutch on your arm tightened - it was starting to become uncomfortable but you weren't going to let him know that. You only hoped the rest of the team couldn't sense the rising tension and weren't paying attention to this cumbersome reunion.

“Why are you here? Why are you back Y/N?” Spencer finally asked in an ominous tone. “I’m here to work.” You replied confidently. He scoffed pressing your arm harder into his chest. You could feel his anger spike. His body heat radiating against you due to the proximity of your stance.

“What, Los Angeles wasn't big enough for your ego?” He jeered. “Gee Spencer, I didn't think you were keeping tabs on me. Careful or I might start to think you still care.” You sneered in a mocking tone. It was the wrong thing to say, you knew that. You knew it would only get him angrier. And he did.

His blood boiled like lava. You could see the hatred smouldering across his facial features, eyes narrowed. He wanted to explode. If it wasn't for where the two of you currently stood he would allowed for the darkness to swallow him whole. You sensed it. He was aware you sensed it. Even after all this time no-one knew him better than you. Perhaps that’s why he was so bitter.

“Quite frankly Y/N, I don't give a fuck about you.” He spat letting your arm fall.

The words stung. Your face fell and for a split second his demeanour changed. A glimmer of sorrow in his eyes. His lips parted almost as if to say something - apologise maybe. But the moment passed quickly and within seconds he was cold again. “Enjoy your coffee.” He muttered before turning on his heel and walking away.

A lone tear dripped slowly down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before anyone noticed and grabbed your drink, sulking back in your seat.

Remainder of the flight was uneventful. The team gathered together once again shortly before landing for a quick briefing. Together you went through any last minute developments in the case. This time you participated, not letting Spencer’s tense poise distract you. Once the meeting concluded Emily divided you into teams of two - thankfully she paired you with JJ meaning you got to avoid Spencer the rest of that afternoon.

You didn't see him again until much later that evening at the local station. He stood by the bulletin board, deep in thought working up the geographical profile.

JJ asked if you wanted a coffee, you said yes. Spencer’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice but he didn't look away from the map. JJ turned to Spencer with the same question, he simply shook his head and she disappeared leaving you with the young doctor.

Neither of you said a word. He focused on his own work as you reached for the box of the first victims journals you gathered with JJ. Picking up the first one you began to read through it - pacing. Spencer watched you now. Just like he used to all those years ago. He always found it odd that you liked reading while walking around. A small smile circled his lips at the familiarity of it all, but as soon as you glanced up at him the smile faded.

Soon enough JJ returned with the coffees. You thanked her as she sat down, grabbing a journal from the box. Her presence eased the rising tension you could slowly feel forming.

“Does ‘blind pig’ mean something other than the animal?” JJ asked taking a sip of her hot beverage. “Yes-” You and Spencer replied simultaneously. You locked eyes for an awkward moment. Spencer cleared his throat, averting his ogling, as you turned to JJ. “A blind pig can also stand for a place where alcoholic drinks are served illegally.”

“The first victim references that phrase in almost every entry.” JJ said, showing you one of the poorly scribbled annotations. “I’ll ask one of the officers if they know of any restaurants or bars that partake in such activities.” You said placing your coffee and the journal you were reading on the table. “Good luck. They weren't very forthcoming earlier according to Emily.” She smiled encouragingly before turning her attention back to the notebook in her hand.

Spencer on the other hand found himself following you with his gaze. He watched as you approached one of the policemen. Your hips swaying elegantly from side to side. He watched how you flicked your hair over your shoulder almost in a flirtatious way, a warm full smile appearing on your face. He watched as you laughed at something the officer said, tilting your neck slightly backwards and placing your hand gently on his bicep.

An unfamiliar feeling stirred inside of him. Was it jealousy? No. Spencer Reid wasn't jealous because you were casually seducing some crook of a man. His fists clenched at his side, fingernails digging deep into the palms of his own hands.

Oblivious to the brown haired doctor staring you down, you continued talking with the officer. “I wouldn't normally ask this, but honestly I’m perplexed and I was hoping you would be able to help me.” You fluttered your eyelashes feeling sick to your stomach that flirting was the only way to get some information. But it worked. Soon enough you were strutting back to where JJ and Spencer where now joined by the rest of your team - a printout of all the places serving alcohol illegally in one hand and the officers number jotted on a napkin in the other.

“Nice going.” JJ grinned as you handed her the list. “That poor guy didn't stand a chance.” Rossi affirmed with a quiet laugh. Matt and Luke chuckled together soon joined by Emily. The only person that wasn't amused by your theatrics was Spencer. “Yes, whoring yourself out is really a display of skill.”

The group immediately fell silent. “Reid.” Emily’s tone of voice was far from pleasant as she glared at the young doctor.

“Spence-” JJ began but you cut her off. “You’d think with an IQ of 187 you would know by now how not to be a fucking prick doctor Reid.” You hissed and tossed the napkin, which was now curled into a tight ball, right at his head - missing only because he ducked. You excused yourself calmly and briskly rushed out of there.

The cold breeze hit your skin the second you stepped outside. Your break down followed shortly after. Hiding behind one of the pillars to the side of the building you burst into loud sobs - once the floodgates opened they were hard to control. A sweep of tears escaped your eyes, trailing down your face like a waterfall. It was hard to breathe. Your fingers desperately fidgeted with the buttons of your shirt hastily undoing the top few. You placed your hand on your chest, heart thumping.

Through your heavy cries you didn't hear the door swing open behind. “Y/N?” A familiar voice called out, the cause of your current waterworks.

It didn't take long for him to find you - hunched behind a pillar, one hand on your chest while the other held your head. Cautiously, he ambled towards you leaving only a step between his body and your own. He reached out and gently took your hand away from your face; it was slightly wet from all the tears you caught in it. You didn't look at him so he closed the space between you and placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up.

“Congratulations, I guess you got what you wanted.” You whimpered, the look in your eyes completely broken. Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly confused. “This isn't what I wanted.” He whispered. “Really? Could've fooled me.” You muttered in between your sobs, trying to free yourself from his strong grip.

He didn’t say anything. He didn't know what to say. Tell you he regretted that sentence the second it escaped his lips? You wouldn't believe him. Apologise? Yes, he should probably apologise. But as he opened his mouth nothing came out. He looked at you with a sense of hopelessness, this was not what he wanted to happen. “You have to believe me Y/N. I didn't mean-” “Forget it Spencer, I don't want to hear it.” You cried attracting unwanted attention from passersby.

“I knew this would be difficult, seeing you after all this time and having to work together-” You took a deep breath. “-but I thought we’d at least be mature about it!” Your sadness dissolved into anger. You mustered enough strength to free yourself from his embrace, slightly pushing him back. That was enough for Spencer to get angry too - it was unwarranted yes, but he couldn't help it. Fight fire with fire.

“God Y/N, you are so entitled!” He hissed taking a step forward, once again closing the space between you. “You only look out for yourself!” He jabbed his finger into you; just under your collarbone. “You are the one that left!” Jab. “You are the one that chose to come back!” Jab. “You are the one that fucking ruins everything!” Jab. Jab. Jab.

“And you are the one acting like a dick about it!” You groaned aggravated. He gritted his teeth - you stroke a nerve. A sense of satisfaction overcame you; so you continued. “The only one with a problem here is you!” It was your turn to poke him and you made sure to do it hard. He didn't like that. He grabbed your finger, pulling it away from himself. His hand then slid until your wrist was wrapped tightly in his hand.

He had all the power. And he knew it too.

The two of you continued yelling insults at each other. You called him “irrational”, “immature”, and “a complete asshole” - amongst other curses. He resorted to bringing up your troubled heated past whilst calling you “crazy” and “a bitch”. Tension rose with every spoken sentence - your faces mere inches away from each other. You could feel his hot breath against your skin as he jeered how much he hated you. The look in his eyes was infuriation, but there was something else. Arousal? Impossible.

“Do you know why you hate me so much?” You provoked. “Because I don’t stroke your ego. Because all those years ago I decided to follow my own path rather than stay and entertain you like everyone else in your pathetic life!” His jaw clenched. “And I think you're feeling insecure now that I’m back and working with this team because I know things-” “Shut up.” He whispered but you ignored him. “-I know things that could ruin you.” “SHUT UP!”

The sound of his roar caused a couple of people to stop in their path and look towards the two of you. The door flung open and an officer stepped outside to check whether everything was okay, but Spencer was quick to dismiss him.

Seconds passed in which Spencer composed himself. Taking a step back he let go of your wrist and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked around, in search of what to say next. You however celebrated this small victory. A smirk appeared on your face and you couldn't help but let out a satisfied laugh.

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna head back inside.” You said coyly. He didn't protest. He didn't even look at you. The smirk on your face faded. The anger began to dissipate. “For what it’s worth if I knew things would be this hostile between us, I wouldn't have taken the job.”

With that being said, you were about to walk around the pillar when he grabbed you again. Your back pressed to the cold brick and Spencer’s assailed against you. No escape. He leaned down, tilting his head slightly, and you felt your body give way to his unspoken suggestion.

His mouth slanted over yours - all options to deny him taken away. His hands flew to your face cupping it hastily as his fingers buried in your hair, tangling themselves in the thickness. Your arms slid around his waist, trailing upwards, and feeling the hard muscles of his back. Both your heads rotated back and forth to vary pressure. His mouth was possessive and it didn't take long for his tongue to breach your lips.

All of the emotions that had been churning rose to the surface and exploded all at once - your heart felt like it was on a rampage. The kiss now deeper than ever. Your tongues dancing together, each trying to assert dominance. Spencer bit down on your bottom lip vigorously causing a velvety moan to escape your mouth. The smooth sound of pleasure only fuelled the doctor more as he pushed himself into you more and you felt his member twitch in his pants.

After what seemed like forever, he pulled away. The pause was brief allowing you to only to catch a quick breath, and in the space of a heartbeat Spencer lowered his mouth back down to yours with immense passion and desire. Your legs felt like rubber as you leaned into him completely. He explored your mouth as his hands nonchalantly made their way from your face down to your collar.

Now that he’s tasted your lips, after all this time apart, he found himself only wanting more.

Spencer grazed you roughly with his nails before binding one hand steadily around your neck - giving it a soft squeeze. The other hand continued down your chest, his fingers making their way inside your half-opened blouse. Your whole body was on fire. As was his.

Slowly, he broke the kiss. Both of you breathless. A hungry look spread across his facial features; now you definitely saw arousal in his eyes. He let his hands fall down by his sides, but his body weight was still pressed into you. He tried to organise his thoughts. Which was impossible to do with you standing right there - your eyes wide open, hair ruffled, mouth slightly parted swollen and red from the kiss. Fuckable.

He moved away from you because he knew if he didn't his lips would once again find yours. He watched you collect yourself. Fix your blouse, wipe the corners of your mouth with your fingers, adjust your skirt, flatten your hair. None of that helped however; he still wanted to devour you.

When you finally met his gaze there was a hint of regret in your eyes. All the dirty thoughts and scenarios he had piling in his brain disappeared momentarily because Spencer knew that look all too well - there was an invisible line you had drawn and the two of you crossed it.

“Tell Emily she’ll have my resignation letter in the morning.” Your voice a bare whisper.

He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you he was sorry for everything. Sorry for the arguments, the name calling, for ruining your first day, sorry for the kiss. He wanted to take your hand, and tell you that there was a way the two of you could work together after all. That you didn't need to do this. That he was glad you were back.

But no words came out. His throat locked up. He stood frozen like a deer in headlights and simply followed you with his gaze as you hailed a taxi and disappeared into the night.

| PART TWO | PART THREE |

masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut

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sweeetcreatvre · 4 years ago

Text

God-Sent Angel

“I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

a/n: i’ve been in a mood!! these last few days. i haven’t written in forever, but this idea popped into my head and the words just floated onto the page. i hope you guys like it! i am a very small page still, so if you see this if you could like, repost, and consider following i will love you forever. thank you for reading 🤍

pairing: harry x reader

warnings: explicit talk of mental/emotional abuse, please don’t read if you can’t handle it. this was heavily based off of my experience with my parents. this is not meant to try and romanticize abuse in any way, and please don’t take it like that. abuse is not fun, there’s no good side to it. a little angsty? fluff

word count: ~2.6k

•••

You met Harry when Sarah and Mitch introduced the two of you a little over a year ago. Sarah’s your best friend, you’ve known her since uni, and she’d convinced you to meet Harry by telling you that it would just make it easier for the two of you to hang out if they didn’t have to split their time between you and Harry and you all just hung out together.

You immediately took a liking to Harry. Because of your horrid anxiety and how awkward it made you, you usually hold back until you know people a little better, but something about Harry put you at such ease with him.

You hung out a couple times alone as “friends”, but both realized it was more than that when you declined Sarah and Mitch’s offer to go out because you already had a date with chinese take out and a line up of rom-coms you’d planned to watch for the night.

You and Harry bonded over cheesy movies. With his busy schedule and how difficult it is for him to go in public, you would watch movies at one of your homes and then reenact the scenes with him.

Things with Harry were easy, he made you happy, and he put you at ease.

•••

You went home to Manchester with Harry one day and truly had the best time. You loved how much his family cared for each other, and how they interacted.

That night, as you were laying on his chest in Anne’s guest room bed, you spoke the words that had been in your head all night, “I hope our family is like yours one day.” You didn’t really plan on saying it, the words just kind of came out.

You were worried you’d scared Harry by being so open about kids with him. You were serious obviously, having met his family and everything, but you hadn’t really talked about kids yet.

He still hadn’t talked causing you to look up at him and sit up a little. “I mean, not that we’re having kids or anything anytime soon, I just thought maybe one day, or not, That’s fine too.” You let it all back in one breath wishing you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

He pulled you back to his chest and kissed the top of your forehead before whispering, “(y/n), I want nothing more than to have a family with you one day. I love you, and I plan on keeping you around for as long as you’ll let me.”

You smile into his chest and place a soft kiss there. “I love you too,” your voice is muffled by his chest.

•••

After you met Anne and Gemma, Harry kept begging you to introduce him to your family. For a while you were able to put it off, saying they were in America, which is true, but not the reason you won’t let him meet them.

Your parents were... difficult. They never hit you growing up, not enough to leave any marks at least, but they yelled, and got angry, and got drunk, and got manipulative. Because they never hit you, it took you a long time to accept what they were doing was abuse.

When you turned 18 you applied to colleges abroad and got accepted into a university in England, you haven’t looked back since. Your parents were always the thing holding you back in life, so 3 years later, when your little brother turned 18 and moved out of the house, you cut off all communication with them. You still talk to your siblings, them being the only thing that kept you sane. You talked to them almost daily, and sometimes you’d even go visit them. Your oldest sister came to England a few times, her being the only one you fully trusted to not tell your parents where you lived.

But telling all of that to Harry was not something you were interested in. It was too much baggage, and no one ever understood how you could just cut off the people who raised you. It was always “They’re your parents, they love you, give them a second chance.” and you’re tired of hearing how you’re hurting them when they hurt you for 18 years.

So you made up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet them for as long as possible.

You spent your first Christmas together at Anne’s saying you couldn’t afford to go home, and you refused to take the money Harry offered to buy you a ticket.

That summer you compromised with him and your older sister came to stay with you.

Harry loved your sister. He said you act so similar, and he loves seeing you so happy. Your sister brings out a different side of you, and Harry adored it.

That also meant he just wanted to see more of your family.

•••

Harry had never spent a Christmas away from his family, and you didn’t want to spend Christmas away from him, so you were hoping that was enough for him to accept you not going home.

As you walked into Harry’s home after work he calls out to you “I’m in the kitchen, love!”

You walk into the kitchen and immediately your senses get filled with a pleasant smell. As you walk in, he turns from the stove to give you a kiss, but he holds you in his arms as you pull away from each other.

“Hi, baby,” you half-whisper half-laugh out to him.

“I missed you today,” he began pressing more kisses to your jaw then down your neck, but they were slow and sweet.

Your arms around his neck, you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, loving that it’s growing long again, the curls tangling in your fingers.

“What’s for dinner it smells delicious?” you ask him as he’s still kissing at your neck.

“You smell delicious, I’ll have you,” he mumbles in between kisses, but then his kisses picked up a faster pace and got more toothy.

You laugh at him and then gasp as he’s biting at your skin then soothing it with his tongue. However, you push him away because you’re starved, only having a small lunch because you had a busy day. “Baby, I’d love to but I’m starved, feed me first.”

He laughs at you then turns back to the stove. He lifts the lid on the soup pot so you were able to look inside. “I made your favorite, figured it would be nice for the snowy day it is.”

You smile at him, he never fails to make you so happy by doing simple things for you.

Your whole life you struggled with feeling like your presence was too much. Always calming yourself down so you were never too excited or too sad or asking for too much.

Harry never made you feel like that though. He went above and beyond for you time after time and you loved that about him. He’d never take your praises for it either. “‘s no big deal, just wanted to remind you how much I love you,” he would say, but to you that was a huge deal.

After you eat you clean up the dishes together and you’re ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with him, but Harry has other plans for the evening.

“I have an early Christmas present for you,” he says after coming back from his bedroom where he disappeared for a few minutes.

“Harry..” you started, but he silenced you with his finger pressing to your lips.

“It’s for both of us really, and it can’t wait until Christmas, so you have to open it now,” he places a small wrapped box in front of you, “go on.”

You hesitantly untie the bow holding the top to the bow then take the lid off. Inside there’s two pieces of paper, two plane tickets. You read the information on the tickets and see that they’re round trip from the 22nd to the 26th and they’re to Indianapolis airport. AKA Harry has planned a trip for the two of you to go home together for Christmas so he can meet the rest of your family. Shit.

You stare at the tickets in disbelief, then at him, then back to the tickets. “H..” you start but you trail off, not even knowing what to do about this. He spent hundreds of dollars on you to meet your family, and gave up Christmas with his own too, and there’s no way you’re going.

He seems to pick up on the fact that you’ve been awfully silent. “Ya gonna say anything?” he asks carefully. You can hear in his voice that he’s afraid he’s messed up, but he’s trying to hide it with a smile and joke. He’s being so hesitant with you, scared to make a move or say anything.

You look up at him with shiny eyes, tears threatening to fall over. You were gonna say something now, but before you could Harry started again.

“Oh, God, I messed up didn’t I? I- I shouldn’t have done all this planning without even asking you. I shouldn’t have just invited myself home with you. You know what, it’s fine I don’t care about my ticket, you can go by yourself, I’ll stay here. You never see your family, I mean I should’ve known you would want to be alone with them. You go, I’ll stay here, I don’t care, just please stop looking at me like that or I swear to God I’ll start crying too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever been this scared to lose, I don’t care what you need. Take it, take it all.” The whole thing is rushed out and you can tell he’s freaking out.

You grab his hand, still in your place on the couch and he’s standing in front of you. You intertwine your fingers, “Can you sit down?” you whisper softy to him. He looks at you for a moment before moving to sit next to you, but you’re both turned sideways so you’re still facing each other.

“You can tell me if you don’t want me to come I won’t be upset.” He sounds so heartbroken by the idea that he’s scaring you off and it’s killing you.

“No, H, no, baby. I don’t want you going, but I’m also not going to go. It’s not the gift I love it, and I love that you always try to buy me the most personalized gift, but I just- I can’t go home.”

“I don’t understand. Your family is there, you- you should go be with them for Christmas.”

Staring at your hands in your lap you think of how you’re going to tell him this. “I lied to you, Harry.” You looked up at him waiting for an answer and hoping he doesn’t get too upset with you.

“What?” He’s not mad, just more confused.

“You haven’t met my family because I don’t talk to them anymore. My parents, I mean. I obviously talk to my siblings, you know i talk to them, but not my parents. I haven’t spoken to them in 4 years, and I intend to keep it that way.” A few tears have slipped down your face and your voice keeps breaking.

“Can I ask why?” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“They were abusive,” you barely whisper the words and Harry has you in his arms immediately his chin rests on the top of your head, and with shaky breath you cry into his chest, holding tightly around his waist feeling so vulnerable and exposed right now. You’re sitting sideways in his lap, one of his hands is on your back, the other on your waist and his thumb is rubbing back and forth on the small bit of exposed skin above your pants where your shirt has ridden up.

When your breathing has gotten a little more normal, you look up at him and he places a kiss on your forehead. “They weren’t physical, but the screamed.. a lot” your voice sounded weak, but it wasn’t as shaky.

“You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to, I mean. I believe you.” You shake your head.

“I want to tell you.” You felt so bad for lying to him for so long. “It wasn’t ever bad until I was like 11 or 12. My sister says she believes it’s just because she took a lot of the heat.” You have 2 older sisters, Charlotte and Sarah, they’re 9 and 11 years older than you. Your oldest sister was the target of a lot of their stunts. “She moved out when I was 8, Sarah when I was 9, and we had a couple good years. Then we moved in with my grandma, and shit hit the fan.”

“I struggled with the workload of my classes, and they didn’t like that, said it made them look bad. My dad would get mad and yell, he even told me he hated me once. My mom checked on them obsessively, and I’d get angry messages about how bad I’m doing during the school day.”

“When my grandma got super sick, everything got ten times worse. She was my rock and I saw her declining everyday from January-August. My dad continued to be up my ass about grades, while also drinking ridiculous amounts. My mom fell into what I think was a depressive episode, and would come home late and say things like ‘I didn’t come home because no body values me here anyways’ but not in a way that was sad, she’d be angry about it and yell about it to us.”

“After she died I had to learn to live without her, and I had no clue just how much she was keeping us together. The next 3 years was constant screaming and manipulation. My grades slipped a little, and they hated that I wasn’t their perfect little prodigy who just pranced around knowing everything anymore. They made me feel so worthless, and like my entire existence was a burden. I was too loud, and too talkative, and too lazy, but not smart enough, and I didn’t work hard enough, and I had no pride in the things I did.” You paused for a minute.

“You’re the only person that’s ever made me feel like I’m not too much or too little.” You whisper out the confession to him knowing that it is how you truly feel about him. “I moved here when I was 18, and cut off all ties with them when Carson turned 18. 3 years later. I’m the only one of us to actually do it, but I’m just so much happier without them in my life.”

“I’m convinced you’re an angel,” His voice cracks and you look up to him to notice he’s shed tear or two and more are threatening to slip out, “sent for me, straight from the gods, because I don’t think any human is as amazing as you. I don’t have any idea what I did to deserve and angel like you, but I’m never letting you go. I love you, and I love that you’ll cry in my arms and how open you are with me. You really are a god-sent fucking angel.” He’s cupping your face in his large hand now. “We won’t go to the States for Christmas. We’ll go to Manchester, and we’ll spend it with my mom and sister.”

“I’m sorry we’re not going, I know how bad you wanted to meet them.”

“No, baby, it’s ok. We’ll spend all the Christmases here, and one day we’ll host Christmas. With our family that will be just like mine, like you said you wanted the first time you met Mom and Gem. You’re gonna be so happy, that’s my life mission, to make my heavenly angel happy.”

“I am happy, H. Right here, with you.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfiction

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kuekyuuq · 3 years ago

Text

Gloria, Jet-lags and Imps [6x11]

Let’s jump right in:

Kinda love how Kara lamp-shaded addressed the fact she didn't tell the gang about her adventures in the PZ. She’s not wrong, tho.

...what do I want to say about Mxy using what's basically a well-known gay-anthem to tell his tale? I mean, it didn’t lead anywhere. The original song is about freeing oneself, liberation, stepping out of a (gone bad) relationship and moving on, stronger for it - empowerment. The only connection I could make, is that originally it was Nyxly’s aim to just do that (freeing herself and her kind from an oppressor), but in the way Mxy performed it, that part of the parallel was long over before he even reached the chorus. It’s also a popular Karaoke song, tho, so... he chose it because it’s catchy? I’ll try not to overthink it for now. At least, the Superfriend’s reactions were fun.

Nia exiting the elevator, "And what's this Old Stone?" I love it when ppl enter a room / situation and pick up on words that they couldn't have possibly heard. I think cinema sins ding such... Are we to assume, she dreamed Mxy's rendition of ‘I will survive’? Or is the elevator not sound-proof at all? (If it’s the latter, Nia later apparently telling Brainy “in private” between scenes / during the elevator ride about her Nyxly adventures, was a silly thing to do.)

So, "Jared" created the ring Old Stone to rule them all, it got shattered into the Paragons totems? Nyxly needs the totems and to get them she needs a crystal which also belonged to "Jared" - who happens to be Mxy's ancestor, which is why she needs Mxy / his blood, too.

I have one important and incredibly relevant question here, tho...

With the introduced imps and their names... Why’s dude named Jared of all things?!

Really, did I mishear that? If so, I’ll leave it as is and never edit, bc that would be hilarious in its own right 😋

...

Not sure what to make about Supergirl paraphrasing a Dirty Dancing quote. "Nobody puts Mxy into a power crystal on my watch." ...is he Baby now? (Seriously, though: Which of the writers thought that was a fitting quote to use in that particular context?)

...now, is the exposition section of the episode over yet?

Sensitive Brainy sensed something was up with Nia. He can relate... Nia doubting Kara would understand, too, is ridiculous. But I get it... insecurities and all. But, I mean, just 5 minutes later Kara announces she wants to save Nyxly despite her wrongdoings. And yet Nia still remains convinced, Kara wouldn’t forgive her own personal mini-me... After having witnessed Kara forgiving Lena for a whole season of the writers being stupid messing up to the nth degree. But I digress, Lena’s Lena.

...how old is Nia meant to be again? Just asking out of completely unrelated curiosity.

F*ck. They really went with NewFoundland...

Imma assume it was an executive choice after realizing they couldn’t find enough actors and actresses with a convincing Irish accent... maybe. Again, no offense to Newfoundland! Just... we got the insinuations of Ireland, not Newfoundland... And truthfully, when I think of magic, Ireland is an easy association. Whereas I only due to this whole debacle learned Newfoundland has Irish ancestry. So, okay, the show forced me to learn something new... I give ‘em that.

An easy journey, she said.

Lena's been off-screen for two whole episodes, Kara announcing at the beginning of ‘Dreamweaver’ [6x09] Lena being “back east” (at least insinuating Lena’s left the west-coast already), which span over at least one full day (feat. a scene at night), and ‘I still rise’ [6x10] at least another a whole day (the whole Nia’s mom back for a day deal). And, now, after at least 48 hours she barely just arrived.

Lemme check how long a regular plane would need to fly from California to NFL......... ... .. .. So... approx. 10 hours with at least one layover.

Yeah, using a private jet made it easier, but apparently also much, much slower...

Or, Lena randomly went some other places / did some sight-seeing in NFL before she decided to finally visit her mother’s hometown... [Either that or the timelines don’t match up and Lena’s scenes are flashbacks of sorts.]

Optimistic and relaxed Lena is a sight to behold. I rewound 3 times, just to enjoy it for as long as possible. We all knew it was going to be short-lived...

Let’s check off a few more items...

OMG, Kara hiding behind Alex at the mere sight of the PZ-projector broke my heart! 😢

"Elisabeth Walsh" is the new 'the one you shall not name'. ...poor Lena. 😭

Oh, so Mxy wants to be Patrick Swayze instead of Baby... gotcha.

...is this going anywhere?

KITTY!!! Okay, this must be the best opponent in the history of CWSG.

Despite the horrible CGI, SG using her heat-vision to project a laser-beam to distract the cat had me in (happy-) tears! 🤣

Gotta love the civilians of National City quickly returning to business as usual once the giant cat is gone. Even the police officers looked rather chill...

Nyxly did look fabulous this episode ^^

Andrea being Lena's rock is both great and annoying. I can't fault Andrea. It's just, that we still have to see an on-screen interaction between Lena and Kara and that bugs the heck out of me. I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Andrea.

Nia: "...is my fault." Kara: "Nu, is MY fault!" J'onn: "Stop fighting, kids!" Space-dad has spoken.

Mxy used an LuthorCorp copy machine... and of cos it's faulty. It's not an L-Corp product.

Kara forgiving Nia came as a surprise to her... Oooookay. I mean, the show has been writing Kara a bit inconsistently the past two seasons... so, yeah, maybe being unsure which of her traits apply this week was not such a far stretch...

Maybe it's the hair, but I wished, Florence was played by Alex Kingston.

So, not-Alex-Kingston shows Lena herself with a funny wig and tells her how her mother was still watching her...

If it wasn't for Katie's acting skills (I love her.) I would have already hit my head against the wall repeatedly. Something about these scenes had me constantly cringe and I made it through 5.5 seasons of this show already... Can’t quite put my finger on it, but it was highly distracting from the story that explained Lena’s mom was special even to another witch, where there was domestic abuse, and an accidental murder. Y’know, important stuff, deep-cutting stuff!

At least, poor widddle Lena got some closure there. Elisabeth was a good cookie. And filled with magic. And Lena’s gotta have that ‘spark’, too...

....so... Lena’s gonna stay in NFL for how much longer, to train becoming a witch? Please, just hand her a how-to manual and send her back home, to figure it out on her own, please... (Yes, that would be horrible decision-making, but I need her back with the team!)

On to the finish line:

So... Mxy IS Nyxly's brother? Wait, that doesn’t sound right... then Nyxly would have the same blood... Did I miss something? Can someone explain, please? Or is he her ex, and that’s where his rendition of “I will survive” makes sense?

Hnn... I can't help, but think Kara's speech for Nyxly was 85% based on her experiences with Lena in s05.

Awww... he said "stronger together"... Mxy... I hope, you'll be okay!

Lena believes in magic now. And I absolutely love how Lena wants to science magic XD

...but apparently magic isn’t science that hasn’t been explained yet, but parallel... powers? concepts? ether strings?

Nyxly has a loyal henchman now. Which was a bit heavy-handed. Took way too much of screen-time, so it better leads to something interesting.

And Kara is on a warpath now. Wooooot! Girl’s got enough.

...what else?

Did I miss a third Patrick Swayze hint / quote / mention? I learned, these things come in threes... Y’know, basic writing rules...

I guess, for once the episode title was meant to be taken literally, Mxy popping up between characters, to try and help. (I need in-show footage, of Mxy sneaking up on ppl, without his powers, on all fours / crouched, just to get the desired effect.) I mean, I’ve never really watched Malcom, but wasn’t he like what Mxy usually is? A bit of a trouble-maker, prankster, chaos-ensuing wherever he goes? ...well, in that case, the episode title didn’t hold up, as Mxy’s scenes were not fun or really goofy. Yes, there was some superficial humor, but just to serve Mxy dealing with not being able to use his powers, which in turn was only barely scratched at (although it turned out to be his final character development crisis, appreciating not having powers and - in turn - facing consequences for once). Again, a whole lot going on in the episode, so a lot of that may have ended up on the cutting-room floor.

...where’s Kelly? Secretly adopting a kid, maybe?

...Kara’s still a reporter, right? I mean, whenever it serves the immediate plot, yes? ...Not even a throw-away line, that she has to pop up at CatCo for appearances sake? Since Andrea is already upset with her AND looking into her friends’ identities? At least, Kara should take a peek to make sure Andrea hasn’t uncovered anything yet... No?

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Kue out.

#Supergirl #supercorp #Mxy in the middle #6x11 #mxy #nyxly #lena luthor #magic #lena's mom #fiction dissected #fandom #episode #Nia nal #dreamer #brainy #brainia

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seven-oomen · 4 years ago

Text

Every road leads to you chapter 1 | Sambucky a/b/o mpreg

Note: obvious tags for this are a/b/o and eventual mpreg. Alpha Sam, Omega Bucky, Bucky deal with CPTSD, missing scenes, canon compliant, canon continuation, frenemies to friends to lovers, roommates, only one bed. Probably a few more tropes. tbh I wrote this chapter in like a day, posting it here first because I wanna finish the whole fic before posting it to Ao3 but hoping to get some feedback for it here. So I hope you like it. Let me know if you do.

“Stop the car!”

Goddamn Walker and his goddamn fucking mouth. He couldn’t believe this shit. Battlestar. More like throwing away everything Steve had ever stood for. These two, Walker and Hoskins, they weren’t fit to defend the mantle of Captain America. They were soldiers, not good men. He hated their freaking guts for that.

Sam should have never given up that shield.

He stalked further down the road, past the bus stop and onto a smaller road that wound back to town without looking back.

“It’s always that last line.” Sam said after a short back and forth with Walker and not long after Sam’s footsteps trailed after him.

“Buck, wait up!”

He kept walking, trying to contain the anger boiling under his skin. Pulsing and creeping up, threatening to overload his nervous system at the slightest touch. He took a deep breath instead and released it slowly. Trying to calm the waving energy inside of him.

Just keep breathing. Everything is going to be okay.

Sam fell into step beside him, his eyes practically burning holes into the side of his face. Though he paid it no mind.

“You’re not going to talk to me, are you?”

He glared at Sam but slowed down his pace just a little to allow the Alpha to keep up with him. As much as he usually enjoyed bantering with the other man, right now everything was just too much. And even Sam’s words echoed in his head and threatened to overload his entire system.

Sam, thankfully, understood.

“Alright. Let’s find a phone. Call Torres.”

He looked at Sam for a moment. The Alpha didn’t judge him for his mood, simply understood what he needed and left it at that. Honestly, it was nice for a change. He sighed, fishing his still working cellphone out of his pocket and handed it to Sam.

“Here.”

Clearly, Sam hadn’t expected that. But the smile Sam gave him created a pleasant warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and eased the pulsing energy through his body just a little. In a way, it was soothing to see him smile.

“Thanks Buck.”

“You’re welcome.”

Two short phone calls later they were on their way to the airport in a cab, their knees touching and only the sound of Taylor Swift singing over the radio surrounding them. Even the driver was quiet.

He still noted the driver’s glances between the two of them but didn’t comment on it since the chubby man didn’t either. He figured the man had bigger problems in his life than having an unmated Alpha and Omega sitting in the back of his cab. Having the kind of walrus mustache the man sported, had to be one of them.

Sam kept sneaking glances between him and the driver, his lips curled up in an amused smile. Almost as if he knew the kind of things he was thinking. It was a little weird, a little endearing, mostly just annoying. He raised an eyebrow at the behavior and leaned back with a smirk when Sam just glared at him and crossed his arms.

Damn right.

Though a small part of him winced at the way his gut twisted at Sam’s reaction. When was the last time he’d taken his suppressants? A quick silent count said he’d taken all of them. So that couldn’t be why he was having a reaction. What else could it be though?

Torres welcomed them at the airport, thankfully Walker or Hoskins were nowhere to be seen. A small miracle all things considered, but a very welcome one.

“Plane’s fueled and ready to go when you are.”

“Then let’s take off, I’ve had enough of Germany for now.” Sam said.

He followed, trailing after Sam into the cargo hold of the plane where they would undoubtedly spend the next few hours just staring ahead. And maybe even getting some sleep if they were lucky enough.

It took a few hours for them to get bored enough. He certainly didn’t know what to do with himself and Sam was on the verge of a mental breakdown judging the by the way he was glaring at him. Then again, if Sam had been mindlessly pacing up and down the cargo hold he’d probably be in the same state.

“Would you please just sit down?”

His fingers twitched at those words yet he did stop. Hands clenching and unclenching in an effort to get rid of some of his excess energy.

“I can’t. I’m restless.” He was. It felt like a dozen fire ants were crawling up and down his spine and the only way to alleviate that feeling was by pacing around the plane.

“I can see that, but you’re making me restless. Come on.” Sam beckoned him closer.

It was… tempting to sit down beside him and allow Sam to calm him. He couldn’t do that though. Couldn’t let anyone get that close. He didn’t know if Sam knew what he was, they didn’t talk much about that stuff. And a part of him never wanted Sam to find out either. He didn’t want to lose this edge of whatever it was that was between them. In a way it was comforting to know that someone didn’t take his bullshit, that someone still called him out on his stupid ideas.

He sat down on the floor opposite Sam, his back propped up against some crates and the tips of his toes not quite touching Sam’s.

Sam merely stared at him for a moment, then leaned forward and offered him his hands. “Gimme your hands.”

“No.” His first reaction was to lean back further and glare. Sneering at the hands he was offered.

Though Sam didn’t budge or get angry at his behavior and stayed calm. Within minutes his shoulders relaxed just a little and he laid his hands in Sam’s with a soft grumble.

“Fine.”

“Good, now breathe.” Sam said, taking a deep breath in. “In, hold it-” He paused for a few seconds, then released his breath “-and out slowly. Repeat.”

“You’re playing therapist now are you?” He appreciated Sam’s help, truly, he did. But there was always a part of him that just wanted to rile Sam up. Just to see if he could.

“No, I just want some goddamn peace and quiet without you pacing a hole through the floor and this is probably the best way to get that.” Sam bit back, the corners of his lips curling up.

It did something to him. A warmth that pooled in his stomach and slowly traveled to his heart and eased the little aches, pains, and pulses of his body. God he could drown in those dark eyes all night.

He blinked rapidly at that thought, only then realizing that his breathing had synched up with Sam’s and they were calmly breathing in and out together. How had that happened? Even his own therapist hadn’t been that effective in getting him to calm down.

He hadn’t even noticed he had exposed the dog tags around his neck for Sam to see. His full name and designation clearly stamped and visible.

James B. Barnes O

32557038 T41 42 O

R.Barnes

3092 Stoorton RD

Shelbyville IN P

Sam didn’t seem to care either way. “Better?”

He nodded, quickly pulling his hands away from Sam’s when Sam’s thumb brushed over the back of his hand. “Yeah…”

“Good. Let me know if you feel restless, we’ll do it again.” Sam leaned back and closed his eyes, his breathing slowly evening out.

He honestly didn’t understand it. Sam had had every opportunity to absolutely obliterate him and yet he hadn’t. Anything vulnerable he showed him, any kind of weakness he had, for once it wasn’t used against him. Sam treated him like a person. He never really noticed that before, or it hadn’t registered this clearly. It was too easy to forget when he was around Sam, too easy to just fall in beside him and joke and snap along. It scared him just a little.

It also gave him hope.

Maybe that’s why he brought Sam to Baltimore.

He should have known things would go south real quickly.

“How come nobody ever told me about him?” Sam’s voice was full of fire and emotion and yet it cut him cold across the chest. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that reaction, but he understood it in a way.

“Steve didn’t know and I didn’t-” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing “-I didn’t tell anybody because he’d already been through enough.”

The sharp sound of sirens pulled him out of his thoughts and brought an entirely new problem with it. Before he knew it, he was the one escorted into a police car with his hands cuffed. He missed his court mandated therapy. Wasn’t that a fucking joke?

He spared one glance at Sam just as the car pulled away from the scene and immediately wished he hadn’t. The look Sam gave him hurt more than any punch ever had and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t owe Sam anything. And yet it felt like he just lost his entire world.

“I’m sure everything will be sorted quickly, Mr. Barnes.” One of the cops, the shorter one, said. He was quite a bit more nervous now than he had been when he thought Sam had been an aggressor, possibly because he feared repercussions from profiling an Avenger. Good. Maybe it would make him think twice about pulling shit like that, though a part of him very much doubted it.

He simply glanced at them in the rear view mirror, feeling an almost sick sense of satisfaction as that unnerved both of the cops further. He didn’t say anything to them despite their attempts at making small talk with him.

What was the fucking point anyway?

He didn’t expect Sam to come get him at the station. Seeing him there felt like a slap to the face. Not because Sam had done anything wrong, no he’d done everything right. And that’s exactly what hurt so much.

The doc seemed hell bent on getting him to open up about his problems. And as much as he didn’t really want to he found himself opening up anyway.

“Well in my miracle, he would talk less.” He said, glaring at Sam as he said it. And maybe that was a bit harsh, but Sam took it like a champ and threw it right back at him. God how he wanted to shut him up in that moment. Though in what way he wasn’t quite sure. In the last day his emotions had been all over the place.

He wanted to hate Sam, but he couldn’t. Something deep inside him just couldn’t hate him for any of this. Not when he himself had done so much worse.

The doc didn’t seem that pleased with them. Honestly, she should have known better. “You guys are leaving me with no choice. It’s time for the soul gazing exercise.”

Now that, he actually liked. “I like this one a lot better.”

“Oh god he’s gonna love this.” Sam said.

“Oh yeah, I’m ready.”

They scooted close, legs intertwining as they sat opposite one another. Once again he was staring into deep brown eyes except this time Sam’s warmth also seeped into him. In a way it was like touching spring for the first time since a cold winter. Warm and pleasant with just enough breeze to keep you alert and in the moment. It was both heaven and earth on hell and he wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Because punching Sam wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t give him closure. It wouldn’t bring Steve back. Steve, who had walked out on him and left him in a time he barely knew just to get his own happy ending. Yeah maybe that had left him a little bitter and a little broken.

“Why’d you give up the shield?”

He poured his heart into his words and bared his soul wide open and it didn’t seem to matter to Sam. So maybe Steve had been wrong about him. About both of them. Maybe he didn’t deserve redemption or compassion. Maybe he didn’t deserve a second chance. And maybe he didn’t deserve Sam’s kindness or compassion either. Maybe he was just broken.

“See you outside, Buck.”

Maybe he was just too broken to function after all.

“Thanks doc.” He followed after Sam, quiet and brooding on the outside but his mind was screaming and crying in agony.

Worthless. He was just so fucking worthless.

He shouldn’t care this much.

He didn’t deserve to care this much.

Maybe that’s why he suggested to go the HYDRA route and find Zemo, or maybe it was a form of self sabotage. Who knew? All he knew, was that this was his last chance to do something right for this world. No matter what it would cost him.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #avengers a/b/o #mpreg #tw cptsd #canon compliant #my writing

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lemonandhugs · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 6 of Stars Align!

Chapter 6

Sam and Caitriona walked outside of Edinburgh Airport and the freezing cold Autumn wind hit them in the face, causing them to both squint and grimace. Caitriona gasped and hugged her own body, after placing her luggage on the ground.

Sam still felt extremely embarrassed about what happened on the plane, despite Cait’s reassurances. He felt guilty, and just awkward around her, which he hated. He stood quietly next to her, with his head down, burying his mouth into his scarf, his hands shoved in his parka pockets. Cait picked up on how he was acting immediately and peered over at him. The wind blew Sam’s curly hair away from his left temple and she could see the large marble-size bump and light blue-purple bruise that had developed.

“How’s your h-head?” she asked him through a quivering jaw.

He shyly looked at her, “I’ve uh…I’ve got a bit of a headache, and it’s throbbing a bit, but I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it when we get there…I deserve it though…what happened.”

Cait exhaled, turned towards him and held on to his forearm, “Sam…please, it’s alright. There was no harm done. It’s not like your hands landed in any awkward places, none of that. You haven’t offended me, or pissed me off, or given me a reason to not trust you. It was completely harmless. Please, don’t feel bad.”

Sam looked into her eyes then, seeing the pleading in her hypnotising blue-grey eyes, and it made his insides melt like warm butter, and his tension and embarrassment melted with it. He smiled crookedly.

“Well, alright. As you say,” Sam smiled wider at her and twisted slightly so the elbow she was holding on to gently nudged her.

The worry dissipated from Cait’s eyes, as her smile reached them, “good.”

She let go of his arm and shoved that hand into her pocket and began shivering again, as she was no longer distracted from the cold.

Sam looked at her with a knowing and concerning smile, “yeah, still as cold as I remember. I haven’t been back here for a few years.”

Cait’s teeth began to chatter and her body began to tremble as she hugged herself. She nodded, “well…I s-suppose I’m going to h-have to get used to th-this. No d-doubt I’ll be wearing a lot l-less on set in those early s-scenes of block one.”

Sam’s mouth went into a straight line and he nodded, “the things we do as actors,” he cheekily smiled at her.

Cait smiled back in between her teeth clicking together, “mhm.”

“At least you dressed warmer this time, and at least it’s not raining. It would be bad if we got our hair wet, yours more than mine. The car will be here s–, oh here it is,” Sam tilted his head upwards, gesturing towards the Audi coming towards them.

“Oh, thank g-god,” Cait murmured.

Then they noticed another Audi, exactly the same and directly behind. They both looked at each other confused.

“We must be taking separate cars?” Cait questioned.

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

The two drivers got out and hurried over to introduce themselves as Sam and Cait’s drivers for the duration of Season 1 filming.

“Are we travelling separately?” Sam asked his driver.

“Yes, we always have actors driven separately, in case of any accidents,” Sam’s driver stated.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Cait nodded.

“Okay, yeah I was wondering why two cars pulled up. If you’ve got this, man, I’ll help Caitriona’s driver with her luggage,” Sam asked his driver, pointing to his pile of luggage on the ground.

“Oh, S-Sam no. You don’t h-have to do that, it’s f-freezing, get in y-your car,” Cait shook her head, and attempting to stop him after he already had two pieces of her luggage slung over his shoulders, ignoring her.

Walking quickly to the boot of the car, with Cait’s driver, he put the luggage in and opened the door for her.

“In you get before you turn into an icicle,” Sam smirked at her.

Cait both pouted and smirked at him, and playfully hit him on the arm.

“See you when we get there, and thank you,” her smirk disappeared, and she gave him a small, sweet smile.

“No worries, Caitriona Balfe, see you soon,” Sam winked at her and brushed her back gently, up, and down.

He ran over to his car and quickly got in. Cait smiled to herself as a quiver ran over her spine, from his touch.

It was an hour drive to where their trailers would be located, and where the writer’s studio was, in which they would be going to their first read through, the next morning.

Twenty minutes into the drive, after small chit-chat with her driver, getting to know him, Cait was distracted by her phone going off. She picked it up from inside her handbag and saw a text from Sam on her screen. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, and the excited feeling that formed in her stomach.

- Have you thawed now? :P

- Ha ha, very funny...! But yes, I’m quite toasty now, thanks for asking :D

- Good to hear. We can’t have Claire looking like those creatures in Avatar, now can we? :P

- :O but thank you for your concern, lol…I think Claire could rock blue skin!

- Mmm…you’re not wrong there. It’d make for an interesting series! Haha

- The stones did it :P

- Ah! Now THAT’S an interesting concept, Caitriona Balfe! We must tell Ron!

Caitriona giggled quietly to herself, and she and Sam joked back and forth for ten minutes more.

‘Alright, alright. Leave her alone now. Professionalism, a respectful distance…don’t get too close off-set!’ Sam thought to himself as he typed out one last text to Cait saying that he’ll see her when they arrive.

A half hour later and they had arrived. The drivers got their luggage out of the cars and lead them towards their trailer. They came to one very large trailer that had both their names on it.

‘Sharing a trailer?!’ Cait panicked, and side-eyed Sam.

Ron walked around the corner a couple of seconds after Sam and Cait had reached the trailer. He beamed when he saw them both.

“Sam! Caitriona! How are ya?! Glad you had a safe trip. The hair looks great!” Ron exclaimed, shaking their hands.

He looked at the large trailer and back at Sam and Cait.

“So, you two will be sharing a trailer. All the trailers will be shared between two cast members. Starz could only get us a limited number of trailers, but they got us the very biggest ones. They’re so large, you will have plenty of your own space,” Ron explained.

‘Breathe, Caitriona, breathe. You’re sure to be used to him in no time now! Fuck, I hope we don’t become sick of each other…’ Cait thought, biting her bottom lip.

‘So much for a respectful distance off-set…fuck…it’s okay, it will be fine. We’ll become very comfortable with each other and it will be very good for the show and our on-screen chemistry,’ Sam calmed himself, determined to think rationally.

Sam and Cait both nodded at Ron while he was speaking. Sam was wringing his hands nervously and peered over at Cait. She caught his eye and gave him a shy smile. He smiled back but noticed the worry in her eyes. She quickly looked away and Sam’s attention was caught by Ron walking up the three steps and opening the front door of the trailer.

“Come in and have a look! Really nice inside, more modern than you would think,” Ron waved them forward, ducking his head inside as he spoke.

As Sam and Cait walked slowly towards the steps, Ron quickly climbed down.

“I’ll let you two get settled. I have to run, I have a few meetings to get to, one with Diana herself. You’ll meet her on Sunday, Caitriona. And yeah, I’ll see you two Sunday for Block One Read Through. 9am. All the cast will be arriving later, so you’ll get to meet everyone. It’ll be good. Can’t wait to see the book come to life, essentially,” Ron expressed with a lopsided smile on his bearded face.

Sam and Cait both smiled at that.

“I’m excited, this is all so new to me. It’s so beautiful here,” Cait said biting her lip and smiling, taking in her surroundings.

“Yeah, it’s going to be a hell of a journey, I think we’re all going to have a great time. It’ll be great experience for you as an actress, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot,” Ron nodded.

“Oh definitely,” Cait widened her eyes and smiled cheerfully at him.

“Alright, I’m off. See you in a couple of days,” Ron said putting his thumb up, before quickly turning and walking with large strides to his car.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, then stretched his arm out for Cait to walk up the stairs first. Cait smiled crookedly at him, looking up at him through her lashes, and ascending the few steps. Sam followed close behind, and upon switching the light on, they were indeed both surprised at how big and modern it really was. Colours of grey and white, a good-sized bedroom area that was split into two and identical on both sides, with two queen beds and a sliding dividing wall in the middle. That was the left side of the trailer. A doorway from the bedroom led out into the dining area, with a small bathroom running off just behind, with a surprisingly large shower. To the right of the dining area was a very impressive marble-top, large kitchenette.

“Wow. I cannot believe how huge this is,” Sam raised his eyebrows and looked around and up at the ceiling.

“Yeah! It doesn’t look like it from the outside. It’s lovely though. Definitely big enough for two,” Cait said as she ran her hand along the marble bench top, her back to him.

“So, uh…I…I guess we’re…living together. How do you feel about that? Since it was kind of just sprung on us…” Sam uttered, rubbing the back of his neck and carefully peering up at her.

“Well…I think…you know, we’re going to be on set together all day anyway. Sharing a trailer will give us a chance to get to know each other on another level. Which…I think will make us more comfortable with each other on set, especially in maybe the more…intense scenes. Obviously, we’ll give each other space when we’re in here. And…there’s an understanding between us. A trust,” Cait crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged one shoulder. She gave him a nervous smile through tight lips.

“That’s true. Yeah, you’re right. I promise I won’t intrude on your space, and I’ll wash my own dishes and won’t leave my clothes lying around. Oh, and I won’t leave my towels on the floor,” Sam grinned at her, rather cheekily.

Cait giggled freely and peered down at the floor before licking the corner of her top lip and looking back up at him.

“Well, ditto,” Cait nodded.

The sun suddenly crept out from behind the gloomy, grey clouds that were threatening rain, and it shone through one of the windows, catching both their eyes.

“So…if you’re not too tired, and because it’s rather beautiful outside now and the rest of the cast don’t arrive until later, maybe now is a good time I take you up on your offer on showing me around…?” Cait asked a little nervously but couldn’t help but smirk at him.

This took Sam by surprise. He didn’t actually expect her to take him up on that offer in which he felt stupid for suggesting.

“Oh,” Sam expressed with genuine shock, his eyebrows shooting up, “okay, yeah, of course. We can walk over to a park in Craighforth, and walk along the River Forth? It’s very beautiful, it gives a great view of the mountains.”

“Yeah, that sounds lovely,” Cait nodded, turning around to grab her phone out of her handbag.

They both descended the stairs of their trailer.

“I’ve got the key,” Sam said, holding up the key before shoving it deep into the front pocket of his jeans.

Cait looked back at him and smiled, “good, I don’t think Ron would be too impressed if we lock ourselves out already.”

Sam giggled, and the two walked side-by-side, hands deep in Parka pockets, out of the trailer lot, deeper and deeper into the countryside. They spoke mostly about little details of their life that they hadn’t yet shared; filling in holes of mystery about one another. They were showing more of each other, inch by inch, in the moments they spent together. Sam told Cait about his childhood spent scampering about the countryside on his own but having a ball. He told Cait about this place, historical anecdotes he was told by his family. Cait looked up at him, listening intently, admiring how his entire face lit up when he spoke about Scotland, how happy it made him, how his teeth and bright blue eyes shone in the sunlight. How he smiled so wide, she could see the creases on the corners of his cheeks.

After an hour of walking, they came to a completely open, wooden, rail-less bridge, and a wider part of the river, running wildly beneath them. They both stepped onto it without hesitation and continued to walk and talk, not really paying attention to the water beneath, or the bridge itself.

Sam, so focused on what Cait was saying, wasn’t aware enough of his footing. Being on the left side of the bridge, his left foot suddenly slipped slightly off the edge. He gasped sharply and grunted loudly. His body instinctively leaned over to the right side to prevent him from falling over the edge. His arms flailed outwards and he bent down quickly, clutching the planks of the bridge. Before he could register what had happened, before his adrenaline had stopped surging through his veins, all he heard was a petrified, high-pitched shriek, and all he saw was Cait’s body be flung, head first over the right side of the bridge, into the gushing river; not even a splash was heard. His heart stopped, his breathing ceased, he froze. His hands started to shake; all he could hear now was a painful ringing. Half a second later, and he was on his feet, looking into the water, breathing heavily. All he could see was a gushing pool of white and black.

“CAIT?!” he screamed at the absolute top of his lungs, over and over, until his throat and lungs started to burn.

He finally heard a gasping sound, then coughing, then screaming. He found Cait, already pulled twenty metres down the river in the matter of four seconds. The river was deep and had such force that she was unable to stand. She was struggling to swim properly and keep her head above the water.

“SAM HELP ME! PLEASE HE–,” Cait shrieked, and then she was gone, swallowed by the water.

Sam turned completely white, he felt physically sick as he sprinted, with everything he had, off the bridge and down the river, coming to where he spotted Cait in the water. He ripped off his Parka, threw his phone without looking, squatted, and slid down the grass, reaching the water. He dived underneath the water and let it take him downstream to Cait. Keeping his eyes open and his arms outstretched. Five seconds had passed, and he saw a dark shadow, trying desperately to fight against the stream and swim upwards; legs and arms striking against the water, but also being dragged further, deeper, underneath. Sam kicked his legs hard, hoping to reach her sooner. When he was close enough to reach her, his body slammed against hers by the force of the water before he could grab hold of her. She jolted sharply away from him, but then reached back for him, as he reached for her. Their hands gripped together so tightly, and without letting go, Sam attempted to touch the bottom with his feet and push himself up to the surface. He coughed and inhaled sharply, grunting, kicking, and fighting against the water with one arm. He pulled Cait up towards the surface, but their hands started to slip. He took in a large breath, submerged himself back into the water, reached out and grabbed Cait by the waist, pulling her towards him with one arm, then quickly let go of her hand and grabbed her waist with that same hand. Cait kicked and clutched his shoulders tightly. He pushed off the bottom with his feet again, with all the power and energy he had, and launched them to the surface. Cait coughed violently and wheezed loudly, before water gushed from her mouth. She inhaled and coughed again. Sam held her up high above the water, his hands underneath her arms. He was unable to move sideways against the water, so in one swift movement, he angled Cait towards the grassy side of the river and threw her towards it. She landed close enough to grip the grass and mud, clawing and trying to grip with her feet to pull herself up. Sam was again submerged underwater when Cait looked behind her. Sam had decided to try and dive deep down and swim sideways, where the force wasn’t as strong. A few seconds later, his hands shot up out of the water and gripped the grass, rocks, and mud on the side of the bank, ten metres downstream from her. He coughed, breathed heavily, and grunted loudly. He was able to get a good enough grip and pulled himself up out of the water. With shaky legs, he sprinted over to the side where Cait was still trying to pull herself up. He reached down, grabbed one of her wrists, strongly pulled her up towards him, then grabbed hold of her other wrist and pulled her completely out. He pulled her to her feet so swiftly, and without thinking, he scooped her legs up with one arm, and held her torso with the other and ran towards where he left his Parka and phone. She gripped around his shoulders and neck tightly, nails digging in, not daring to let go. When he reached his Parka, he bent down and gently sat her on the grass, ripped off her own Parka and put his dry one around her, then pulled her tightly against him, rubbing her back and arms vigorously. He shook and coughed as he did so before he could say anything. His brain couldn’t reach his mouth at this point. After a minute, Cait pushed against Sam’s chest, bent over to the side, coughed, heaved and more water gushed out of her mouth. Sam firmly pounded her back, hoping he was helping to expel the fluid from her stomach. Cait, still bent over, close to the earth, gasped and breathed heavily. She continued to cough intermittently a few more times, until she could no longer feel any fluid in her belly. She harshly exhaled. Luckily, she wasn’t under very long, and was able to hold her breath and didn’t inhale any water, but some did force its way into her mouth, giving her no choice but to swallow. She knew there wasn’t any fluid in her chest or lungs, as she was able to breath easily.

Exhausted, Cait’s breathing started to finally slow. Sam rubbed her back gently, and she carefully pushed herself back up to a sitting position.

“Caitriona…” Sam began with a shaky voice, “I’m so sorry! You could’ve drowned, and I…! If anything happened to you! I…Caitriona, I’m so so sorry. Are you alright, did you hit your head? Do you think anything is broken?” Sam’s hands were shaking very visibly as he held Cait’s shoulders.

Cait was trembling all over, both from the cold water and the shock from what just happened. She had her head down and her eyes closed. Sam searched her face desperately while he waited for a response, still white as a ghost, icy water dripping from the tip of his nose.

After a few minutes, Cait took a deep breath in through her nose and breathed out through her mouth. She slowly opened her eyes but kept them facing down. Sam let go of her shoulders, and continued to wait patiently, his hands still trembling in his lap.

“I…I’m alright. It doesn’t feel like anything is broken…I know I didn’t hit my head on the way down…the water was too…deep...too strong…it…” Cait described with a shaky voice and hugged herself with her own trembling hands, trying to stop the rest of her body from shaking.

“…it was an accident Sam. It’s alright,” Cait slowly moved her head up to look at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, all the colour was drained from her face, and her lips were now a blue-tinted pink.

“No, it’s not alright. I’m a…fucking idiot! I wasn’t paying attention to my feet; I knew I was too close to the edge! You could’ve broken your neck because of me. And…your hair!” Sam clenched his jaw and violently rubbed his forehead with his hand, eyes shut.

“Oh! Oh…fuck,” Cait exclaimed with widened eyes and a horrified look on her face and she grabbed two fistfuls of her hair.

“Caitriona, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me…I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I mean I…” Sam broke off with a huff. He shifted away from her and held his head in his hands.

“Well, Sam, I didn’t break my neck. And…you saved my life, Sam. You risked your life to save mine. You got me out of that water just as quickly as I fell in…” Cait reached a trembling hand over and touched his bicep.

“Caitriona, I’m the reason you were in that river in the first place. Of course I was going to do everything in my power to save you…I mean…of course I would do everything I could to save you even if I wasn’t the reason,” Sam turned back towards her and shyly looked down at the wet grass between his legs, his arms resting on his knees.

Cait smiled lopsidedly, “I know. Thank you, Sam, for saving my life. All I know is that I could not, for the life of me, keep myself above the water. I was…stuck. Completely stuck underneath. If it wasn’t for you…you got to me so fast, like you didn’t even hesitate to jump in,” Cait raised her eyebrows in question.

“I didn’t,” Sam shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re alright. Well, I hope you are. That’s what we’re going to find out,” Sam stated as he grabbed his phone, scrolled through his texts with Ron to find the numbers of the drivers.

He typed in the number and asked his driver to immediately come to where they are. After he hung up, he screenshotted their location on Google Maps and sent it to his driver. His driver responded within a couple of minutes.

“My driver will be here in ten minutes, then we’re going straight to the ER. You’ve swallowed a lot of water. I want you to get checked out. I want to make sure you’re alright,” he said with a determined voice, looking at her with guilt in his face and concern in his eyes.

Cait nodded, “I…I don’t know what I’m going to do about my hair…” Cait hesitated, biting her lip.

“Yeah I don’t know what I’m going to do about mine either. I’m going to call Ron right now and explain everything,” Sam put the phone to his ear again, then reached over and pulled his Parka tighter around Cait.

She gave him a shy smile as she put her arms through the sleeves.

Sam spent the next eight minutes on the phone with Ron, explaining the whole situation. Cait watched Sam’s face closely. His different expressions, his hand movements as he spoke, the way he chewed his thumb nail when he was nervous.

‘He saved me…he jumped right into that fucking death trap of a river and saved my life in the space of five minutes. What if he got stuck underneath after throwing me over to the bank…what if he broke his own neck trying to save me…the way he held me above that water…the way he was able to pull me to him against that heavy stream…he just…he amazes me…is he real?’ Cait was completely lost in her thoughts as she watched him.

Sam hanging up the phone snapped her out of it.

“Ron is really concerned about both of us, but he’s happy we’re both alive and going to the hospital. He wants to be updated with all results, and how we are tomorrow. The read-through may have to be pushed back, depending. He’s also going to call the stylist in London about our hair. He’s going to call back later about it,” Sam informed Cait, still with a look of remorse and embarrassment.

“Alright…was he pissed about our hair?” Cait asked.

“Nah, he just said ‘accidents happen’. He was more concerned with our health. I just…this is a big deal for you, Cait, and if I’ve ruined it for you, I wouldn’t ever forgive myself –,” Sam started, shaking his head.

“Sam,” Cait cut him off, “you haven’t ruined anything. It’s fine, everything will be fine.”

Sam gave her a small, lopsided smile, “I really am sorry though, for all that water you had to throw up, for any cold you get because of this, for everything. I suppose you don’t want any more Sam Heughan tours,” Sam looked down sheepishly.

Caitriona reached back over and patted his hand, then squeezed it slightly before letting go.

“I do, just, maybe no more dangerous bridges,” Cait smirked at him.

Sam laughed, “deal, I promise,” he looked at her and smiled.

Her face broke into a smile back at him, and just like that, they were stuck in a moment. No one was able to move. Not until Sam’s phone rang, and they both flinched, snapping out of it.

“Hi, Ron,” Sam answered, a little nervously.

He spent another minute on the phone, which left Cait’s thoughts to drift again. She cleared her throat and turned her head away. She smiled to herself briefly, then sucked her lips into her mouth and looked down.

‘He really is a great guy. It’s going to be a lot of fun working with him. We’re going to be great working partners and friends. That’s it though Caitriona, that’s all he is and will ever be to you. Just a co-s –,’

“Okay so with the hair appointment, the stylist has told Ron that you’ll need to get it redone, but I don’t because my perm isn’t as intense, and because of the amount of hair I have. So, your appointment in London is in a few days. It would just be a fly there, fly back kind of day,” Sam explained, breaking Cait from her self-pep-talk.

“Oh, okay. It has to be done,” Cait nodded and shrugged.

“Yeah, only if you’re well enough. Otherwise that can be pushed back as well,” Sam reassured.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Cait half-smiled, and checked her phone for the time.

“I hope so. Oh, car’s here,” Sam said as he jolted to his feet.

He put his phone in his pocket, then reached down and put his hands out to Cait. She took his hands and he gently, but strongly eased her up.

“Are you alright? How are your legs?” Sam asked, steadying her.

Cait peered up at him, “yeah, uh…a little shaky but…I’m okay,” she nodded, looking down shyly.

As the drive to the hospital wasn’t a short one, both cars and drivers arrived. The drivers quickly got out and ran over Sam and Cait. They frantically asked what happened and if they were hurt, with concern and shock.

“It’s alright, I’ll tell you on the way,” Cait said to her driver.

“Yes, me too. We need to get her into the warmth right now,” Sam said to his driver, then looked at Cait’s.

Sam walked Cait to her car and opened the door for her. He held her elbow as she weakly climbed in.

“Are you warm enough? Do you think you’ll be sick again? I can see if they have a bag somewhere,” Sam half turned to look at Cait’s driver.

“No, it’s okay, Sam. I’ll be alright. It’s really warm in here,” Cait reassured.

“Alright, keep the parka, and I’ll see you when we get there,” Sam brushed her knee slightly, before closing the door.

Sam handed Cait’s soaked parka to her driver, “would you mind just putting this on the front seat, in font of the heater, where it can dry a bit?”

“Sure, sir,” Cait’s driver nodded and took the parka.

“You can call me Sam,” he said politely.

Sam ran and jumped into his car.

Upon arrival, Sam jumped out of his car, ran over to open Cait’s door, then held out his hand for her. Cait exhaled out of her nose and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Sam, but really, I’m alright,” Cait tried reassuring again.

“I just didn’t want your legs to lose balance or anything,” Sam said, concern in his baby blues.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Cait said shyly.

“It’s the least I can do, Cait. Sorry, Caitriona!” Sam quickly tried to patch his slip-up.

‘Oh, fuck!’ Sam tensed.

Sam and Cait checked in and walked towards the waiting room.

Cait smiled widely, “you DID call out ‘Cait’ when I fell in! I heard you, even under the water, but thought I was going crazy.”

“Sorry, I…it was just quicker to say in the moment, I panicked,” Sam confessed, embarrassed.

“And now?” Cait asked teasingly, smirking at him.

“Now…well that was an accident,” Sam bit his lip and smiled nervously.

Cait giggled, “you can call me ‘Cait’. I like it. Believe it or not, I’m not often called that. My family doesn’t believe in shortening names, I guess. And it’s only a few of my friends who call me ‘Cait’, and you’re my friend,” Cait gently nudged his shoulder with hers, smiling a little too flirtatiously.

‘Thank Christ for that,’ Sam thought, feeling instantly relieved.

Sam laughed, then sighed, “well, I’m glad we’re still friends, even though I barged you into a dangerous, dirty river,” he gently nudged her back.

“Caitriona Balfe?” a nurse suddenly came out.

“I’ll meet you here when we’re done, okay? Good luck…Cait,” Sam gave her a shy smile.

Cait returned the smile, “you too, see you after.”

Cait was checked over with a routine blood test, an X-ray, and an ultrasound of her stomach to see if there was any damage from the river water and how much she swallowed. They wanted to test for any lurking contaminants in her stomach, and intestines, that could potentially travel to her bladder and urinary tract. They also checked for any fluid on her lungs.

Sam needed less invasive checks but was also examined for any contaminants in his body, from the river.

They both received their results within the hour.

Sam was already in the waiting room, scrolling on his phone, trying to distract himself from worrying about Cait.

‘Please let her be alright, please let her be alright, please let her be alright!’ He begged, with every heavy thump of his heart.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deep green of his parka that Cait was still snuggled into. She smiled crookedly at him and sat next him.

“Hey! Did everything go alright?” Sam quickly asked.

“Just a few tests, I’ll get the results soon,” Cait expressed.

“Me too. How are you feeling?” he asked, turning more towards her.

“A bit better, now. Not so shaky, and I’ve warmed up. I think it was just shock, more than anything,” Cait shrugged, “and, how are you?”

“Och, fine,” Sam nodded.

“Hopefully. You were in that water too,” Cait raised her eyebrows, concern spreading across her face.

“I didn’t swallow any though. I’m sure I’m all good, but we’ll find out soon enough. I…I hope you’re okay…Cait,” Sam said sheepishly, still feeling a little nervous about calling her that.

Cait gave him a look that said, ‘it’ll be okay’.

“Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe?” a doctor came out and said.

Sam and Cait stood up and followed him into his room.

The doctor information Cait that they couldn’t find any contaminants in her system, luckily, she vomited all of them out. They were both right as rain. The only recommendation the doctor gave Cait was to take a good probiotic for a week, and to have steaming hot shower, get a lot of bed rest with a lot of layers and a hot water bottle over the next 24 hours, to avoid getting a chill and then the flu.

Sam let out a sigh of such relief, knowing she was okay and that he hadn’t ruined anything for her.

‘I hope she doesn’t get sick…I’ll do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t! what if she does…what then? It would be inappropriate to kind of…take care of her…but…we share a trailer…we live together…fuck. Please don’t get sick…Cait,’ Sam struggled, then smiled, knowing he had full permission to call her by a nickname.

“That’s good news,” Sam said grinning at Cait, as they walked back towards their cars.

“Yes, see? Everything is fine. I just need to get out of these wet clothes…” Cait started, and immediately caught herself. It was too late.

‘What? What the fuck did you just say? Oh my god,’ Cait cursed herself internally.

Sam widened his eyes, then giggled quietly when he caught Cait’s face over what she just said.

“Uh…I mean…I need to put on something dry and curl up in bed…do you think there’s a hot water bottle in the trailer?” Cait asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“I’ll have a look for one while you’re in the shower. Are you hungry?” Sam asked.

“A little. Soup or broth is probably what I need the most right now,” Cait replied.

“Yeah, I saw heaps of cans of soup in the little pantry,” Sam nodded, opening the car door for Cait.

Cait smiled at him, “thank you. Alright, well, I’ll see you in a little bit,” Cait gently touched his forearm and climbed in.

Sam closed the car door and when she made eye contact with him out the window, he winked and waved, before running to his car.

Sam rang Ron and filled him in on the details.

“Alright, good news! I’m glad you’re both okay. We’ll have the read-through the day after tomorrow, if Cait is up to it, and then she’ll go to London two days following that. I’ll flick her a text now, and I’ll check in tomorrow evening. Goodnight, Sam,” Ron replied on the other end of the phone.

Caitriona wasted no time in gathering her warmest pjs and toiletries and hopping straight into the shower. The hot water took a while to heat up, and Caitriona stood just outside the shower, covered in goosebumps, arms wrapped around herself, bouncing up and down and shivering. When it was finally hot, Cait pounced underneath and lavished the steaming hot liquid covering her body. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, inhaling the steam. Her fair skin was quickly becoming red, but it was a very welcomed contrast from turning blue from the icy water today. She relayed the experiences in her head, as she stood under the hot stream, concentrating on her breathing. Today was certainly a terrifying experience, being trapped underwater. However, she felt no trauma over it. All she could think about was how quickly those strong arms grabbed her before there was enough time to actually start to really panic. How quickly he got to her, pulled her from the jaws that wanted to swallow her whole. How he swept her up like she was weightless, held her close.

‘Yes, he’s very thoughtful and caring. I’ll forever be grateful for him. I’m lucky to have someone to work with who will have my back,’ Cait thought, as she lathered soap on her body, determined to not let her thoughts drift.

Cait put on her fresh, warm pjs and wrapped her washed hair in a towel and walked out of the bathroom. The clouds of steam broke out behind her. Her cheeks were rosy red from the heat. Then she saw Sam. He had changed his clothes and was now wearing tracksuit pants and a loose, long sleeved shirt. He was standing in the kitchenette sipping coffee. He turned around once he heard her. He couldn’t help but look at her from head to toe and then back up again. Cait was wearing black cuffed sleep pants, thick purple bed socks, and an oversized fleece top.

‘Adorable creature! Look at her looking so snug…no, stop looking!’ Sam caught himself and he cleared his throat and briefly looked away.

Sam stuttered and struggled to get his words out at first, “Uh…I…uh,” Sam pointed to the little dining table.

Caitriona looked over and there was a steaming bowl of soup, a mug of black coffee and some chicken bone broth, waiting for her. Cait’s eyes lit up. Then she looked back at Sam and smiled. Sam shyly looked down and smiled, taking another sip of his coffee.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28043499/chapters/76290278

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reyescarlos · 4 years ago

Text

all through the night || a tarlos fic

❄️ @911giftexchange fic for @buckieys ❄️

happy holidays, sy! i'm wishing you a wonderful and prosperous new year. i hope this fic helps to usher in 2021 right!

word count: 5.2k || read on ao3

All through the night I'll be awake and I'll be with you All through the night This precious time when time is new

When Carlos envisioned winter in New York, his elaborate fantasies had somehow managed to eclipse the reality of what it might actually entail. He had enjoyed his brief stay, taking in the window displays along Fifth Avenue. It had long since been something he wanted to see for himself and the storefronts had more than delivered. But on the flipside of such a picturesque scene has come the downside of what heavy amounts of snow could mean.

It’s why he finds himself now planted in a too hard seat at JFK Airport, wondering how he’ll possibly fill his time now that his flight has been delayed until morning. Outside the blizzard rages on with no real end in sight and Carlos mulls over the merits of his decision to leave Texas in the New Year and make this city his home. This is a far cry from Austin. He’d once thought winter temperatures there could be bad but it’s been nothing compared to the arctic blast in the North.

He tries to keep busy with a book but his attention is split between the words before him and the cute guy across from him frantically digging inside his backpack, a phone teetering dangerously on his knee.

“God, where is that stupid thing,” the man mumbles to himself. “Come on charger, where are you?”

Carlos looks away, burying his head in his book to hide the smile that breaks out on his face. The guy is obviously peeved but Carlos can’t help but to find his muttering endearing. After another moment of fruitless searching on the stranger’s end, Carlos takes mercy on him.

“Here, you can borrow mine,” he says, unzipping his own backpack and fishing out his charger.

The man sighs in relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it,” he replies, reaching over and taking the cord from Carlos.

He settles back and plugs it into the wall, the screen lighting up a moment later. Carlos smiles politely and gets back to reading, only to be interrupted.

“So, I take it you’re heading down to visit family before the new year comes, huh?” the stranger says.

Carlos looks up from his book, head tilting slightly. It hadn’t been expecting the man to strike up a conversation.

“Sorry, awkward small talk. I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, face scrunching as he gestures to the book in Carlos’ hands.

Carlos waves him off, bookmarking his page and closing it.

“No worries. We’re here all night so...plenty of time for that.” He licks his lips and drums his fingers against the front. “To answer your question though, no. Austin is actually my home so I’m just heading back.”

“Oh, cool. I’m going to see my dad. I thought he’d want to do the whole white Christmas, New York for the New Year thing but ever since he moved down to Austin last year, I think he’s gotten spoiled by the warmer weather.”

The man looks out of the window where the snow is swirling so heavily it’s hard to even see the sky or planes sitting idly on the tarmac.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame him.”

Carlos laughs. “It’s disgustingly cold here and all of that,” he says, gesturing to the storm, “doesn’t help. I don’t know how you guys manage.”

“You get used to it. I’ve only ever grown up with it so while I like to complain about the snow at times, I can’t picture this time of year without it. It’s been a few years since it’s been this bad though, I’ll admit.”

Carlos smiles a bit, looking out of the window briefly. “This is actually my first time experiencing snow. And the city was gracious enough to give me a blizzard to commemorate.”

The man smiles at this thoughtfully. He sits up, stretching his hand out across the aisle towards Carlos.

“I’m TK, by the way.”

Carlos touches his fingertips to his forehead before shaking TK’s hand.

“God, my mother would be so ashamed of my manners right now,” he laughs. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet you.”

He lets go, his palm feeling extremely warm from TK’s touch. TK smiles at him, a slow grin that ultimately reveals his teeth. This man is very good looking, there’s no denying that. He’s got an easy way about him that makes Carlos feel comfortable in his presence as if they’re old friends catching up and not perfectly good strangers meeting for the first time.

TK’s phone buzzes, stealing his attention and Carlos is all too grateful for it. TK types something on the device for a few seconds before pausing.

“Sorry, excuse me for a second,” he says, putting his phone to his ear.

Carlos nods and gestures for him to go for it.

“Hey, Dad. I—,” TK starts out but stops short as his father speaks. “I bet it’s all over the news but I’m alright. Not looking forward to being stuck here overnight but,” he continues, his eyes landing on Carlos and away so quickly Carlos is sure he’s imagined it. “I guess there are worse ways to be trapped for a few hours.”

Carlos looks away then, cracking open his book again to keep himself occupied while TK chats with his father. He tries not to dwell heavily on TK’s look or what the implications of that glance could mean. It could’ve been a coincidence and nothing more. All the same, it doesn’t make his heart race any less to think that TK feels a spark too.

TK ends the call with a sigh, stretching out his legs before bouncing one of them. The gesture is distracting but endearing. For the second time, Carlos closes his book, this time putting it back into his bag for good as TK speaks to him again.

“Are you hungry? I could go for a bite.”

“I could eat,” Carlos says. He rises from his seat as TK does, both men dragging their carry-ons along with them.

They follow the winding path down from their gate, Carlos taking notice of all the fellow flyers now forced to wait out the storm. Some have taken to stretching out on the ground, laying on top of jackets like makeshift sleeping bags, others keeping busy with phones and tablets, hunched over in chairs.

Carlos isn’t looking forward to the uncomfortable sleep he’ll have tonight but as he looks over at TK, he wonders just how much rest he’ll actually manage to get. The guy is already proving himself to be a good way to pass the time and Carlos can’t say he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to keep chatting with him.

As they approach the cluster of food stands, TK groans and it’s easy to see why. Many of the shops are already closed, no doubt the employees hurrying home before the worst of the storm kicked in. All that’s available now is Cinnabon but Carlos supposes that can suffice as dinner.

TK orders a hot chocolate and a classic roll while Carlos opts for a cold brew in addition to a roll as well. TK eyes the drink with raised brows.

“I’m fully committing to the cause of being awake until we board, apparently,” Carlos muses, pushing his straw through the lid and taking a sip. “Worth it.”

The two head to a nearby empty table, settling into their elevated seats before unloading their food. The scent coming off the baked goods is incredible and Carlos’ stomach suddenly feels desperate for a bite.

“So, Carlos, since we’ve nominated each other for the buddy system while we wait this storm out,” he jokes, “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Carlos drums his fingers on the tabletop as he tries to decide what to share.

“Well, you already know that Austin is where I’m from but the whole reason I’m even here now is because I’m going to be moving to New York soon. I’ll be transferring next month.”

TK’s brows raise. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Do you mind if I ask what you do?”

“I’m a police officer. I’ve been with the Austin Police Department for a few years but I’ve been considering leaving Texas for a little while now and I’ve been exploring my options. For some reason my mind kept coming back to the idea of New York and I figured I should just take the chance and see what happens.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “Oh man, well, we have something in common, more or less. I’m with the NYFD myself.”

Carlos holds up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re a firefighter?” he laughs.

TK puffs out his chest jokingly and nods with a grin on his face. “That’s right. Ladder 252.”

Carlos does his best to push the image of TK in uniform from mind but the picture is an appealing one. He can see it so clearly, the way he’d look in suspenders, not to mention full gear. It’s almost unfair just how much hotter the man becomes as if Carlos hasn’t spent this whole time finding him attractive. He picks up his drink again for something to do with his hands, swirling the straw inside of the cup.

“Small world. Outside of my own little bubble, I can’t say I casually meet many people who are first responders. We seem to be a pretty special breed to get into this line of work.”

TK laughs. “I fell into this because of my dad. He’s been a firefighter for years. He, uh, actually was on site during 9/11. I always thought he was incredible but knowing the full scope of what he and so many others did that day and for people in times of crisis, big and small in general, it just made me want to be like him.”

Carlos frowns, unsure of what to even say or think. “Your dad’s a hero.”

“I like to think so.” TK draws in a breath, squaring his shoulders. “Anyway, now he’s kicking ass down in Texas so, even though I miss him as my captain, I know he’s doing great work with his crew down there.”

Curiosity gets the better of Carlos as he asks, “What station is he with?”

“The 126,” TK replies, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Carlos’ eyes widen. “Captain Owen Strand is your father?”

It makes sense the longer he looks at TK. Captain Strand is an attractive older guy and TK clearly got handed some solid genes. Still, it throws him for a loop to realize they have a legitimate connection to each other.

TK tilts his head to the side. “You know him? Shit, okay, wow, small world just got a whole hell of a lot smaller.”

“Unbelievable,” Carlos laughs in disbelief. “I don’t know him that well but we work together sometimes on calls. He’s amazing in the field and he’s really turned that station around.”

TK practically beams. “Guess this means we’ll be seeing each other again soon once we finally make it to Austin then.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so. Assuming you don’t get sick of me before this night is through, that is.”

TK holds Carlos’ gaze for a moment and if it were anyone else, it would be unnerving but something in TK’s stare just sends a thrill through Carlos, excites him in a way no stranger has ever really gotten under his skin.

“I don’t see that happening,” he says plainly, as if this is an irrefutable fact and not something that’s truly subject to change.

Carlos doesn’t argue the point. He merely enjoys the next few hours, seeing just how easily TK’s theory pans out.

~*~*~

The contrast in weather between New York and Austin is one of the first things Carlos’ remarks on as he steps outside of Austin-Bergstrom. He’s never been more grateful for a forty degree afternoon. He’s kept Michelle updated about his new set time and he waits patiently outside of arrivals. Beside him now, TK types out a message on his phone before smiling over at him.

Carlos has had hours to get used to that look on TK’s face and yet he’s still brought up short. Last night and the early morning hours were spent talking to TK about everything imaginable, trading stories about crazy calls they’ve been on and even touching on personal things like their families. When they grew tired of talking, they watched movies on TK’s laptop, fighting off the urge to sleep for the mere sake of hanging out.

It isn’t rare for Carlos to become friendly with a person but this connection to TK feels different in a way he can’t quite parse.

By the time their flight boarded, Carlos knocked out for the entire length of the trip but it had been worth it in his eyes to stay up and take advantage of the uninterrupted time that stretched before him with TK. It was safe to say a bit of a crush had formed, as absurd as Carlos felt for it. TK was going to be in town for the next few days and that prospect was both thrilling and terrifying. If he could feel this close to TK in one night, there’s no telling what could happen in a few days.

Before he can get lost in that thought, Carlos sees Michelle as she pulls up to the curb, the trunk popping open.

“Are you good out here?”

“My dad’s coming in just a minute. I’ll be just fine,” TK muses as Carlos puts his carry-on inside and slams the trunk shut.

“Alright, well. You have my number now so text me whenever you’re free. I’ll show you a few places while you’re here.”

Carlos extends his hand but TK rolls his eyes jokingly and pulls him into a half hug instead.

“We’ve spent the night together, Carlos. I think we’re past handshakes now.”

Carlos’ face burns with TK’s wording but the man merely laughs.

“See you soon?”

Carlos just nods and finds the wherewithal to get inside of Michelle’s car. He waves after he buckles himself in, TK lifting a hand in response.

“Okay, who is that?” Michelle asks immediately, head turned to take in the sight of TK.

Carlos tips his head back against the seat. “You won’t believe the night I’ve had.”

~*~*~

Carlos has spent two days showing TK some of his favorite stomping grounds. TK relished in all that Austin had to offer and Carlos has been happy to see that their closeness from the unexpected overnight at the airport hadn’t been a fluke. If anything, these outings have only made Carlos feel closer to TK.

Michelle has been relentless in her teasing, finding it all too amusing that Carlos managed to cross paths with Captain Strand’s son of all people. She’d clung to his every word during the ride home from the airport as he filled her in on how he waited out the storm.

The 126 meets at their usual bar and Carlos is glad for this post-work gathering. It’s the perfect time to show TK what a real honky-tonk is like, further immersing him in the culture of the state his father now resides.

TK sits next to him at the table, the large group so packed in that his leg presses against Carlos’. It’s light but it’s enough to make the point of contact all Carlos can focus on even as everyone else at the table engages in conversations that overlap, laughing amongst themselves. He does his best to ignore it but it’s difficult not to take notice of each shift TK makes. Michelle keeps looking at him and Carlos, to the best of his abilities, avoids her gaze knowing that it’ll make it just that much more difficult to act as if he isn’t freaking out internally.

“I’m gonna get another. You want anything?” Carlos asks TK.

TK shakes his head. “No, I’m alright but thank you though.”

Carlos nods once and gets up, finding it much easier to breathe already now that he’s no longer sitting beside TK. Michelle catches his eye as he leaves from the table and he can hear her shoes as she follows behind him to the bar. She rests against the counter facing the room at large as Carlos gets the attention of the bartender and asks for another beer.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Michelle laughs at his side.

“Chelle,” he groans, shaking his head.

She merely laughs again, bumping her hip against his. “When did your life become a romantic comedy?”

“I must’ve missed the memo myself because this sure snuck up on me.”

The bartender sets a bottle down in front of him but Carlos doesn’t move. This little reprieve away from everyone but Michelle right now is welcome.

“I like him. He’s nice. Really cute too.”

“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” he deadpans, looking over his shoulder at TK.

He looks so at home here, hanging out and laughing with these people he’s, up until now, only known secondhand from his father’s work stories. TK is personable as ever, Carlos knows all too well. Had he not been swept away after one night in the man’s company?

“I think this is so great.”

“Funny, I think it’s the universe trying to mess with me.”

Michelle scoffs, finally turning to face the bar like him. “There are worse things in the world than a seemingly perfect guy practically falling into your lap. We should all be so lucky.”

Carlos casts the mental image aside, taking a sip of his drink. “The timing though. I can’t think about guys right now. I need to be figuring out my next set of moves for New York.”

“If those plans just so happen to include an attractive new friend…,” she trails off with a grin.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to screw this up because yeah, he is a new friend and we get along well, it’s a good feeling.”

“Do you like him?”

Carlos falters. “I barely even know the guy.”

“That’s not even remotely close to what I asked you.”

Carlos scratches at his forehead before letting out a sigh. “I do. Which hardly makes any sense at all. It’s only been a few days and yet I can’t stop thinking about him. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

Michelle shakes her head. “No, actually. I don’t think so. You guys had such a cute introduction to each other and you clearly hit it off. Some people just click and are meant to meet. The fact that you two had a connection to each other beforehand without even knowing it? I think there’s something to be said for that.”

“What, you think it’s fate or something?”

Michelle shrugs. “I wouldn’t rule it out. Your flight could have been a day earlier or even a few hours before his. On a plane filled with hundreds, you connected with him, Captain Strand’s son who just so happens to live in the city you’re about to move to. I think it’s worth seeing just how far it could go. If you ask me, you’ll wind up with a boyfriend in no time.”

Carlos mulls it over for a moment. He can admit he is in fact curious. It’s been a while since he’s felt this drawn to someone and with TK, it’s been as natural as breathing since they first met. The timing is less than ideal but it’s been so long since Carlos has felt this urge to get close to someone, since he’s felt safe enough to even open his mind and heart up to the possibility.

“Maybe you’re onto something.”

“One of these days you’ll learn to just accept my brilliance, no questions asked. But this will do for now.”

Carlos rolls his eyes but drapes an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple.

“I’m going moments like this with you,” he says.

Michelle sighs and pats his back. “I will too but we still have time on the clock, right? Let’s not think about that now.”

Carlos sighs, knowing she’s right. It just feels as if these moments are slipping through his fingers, the new year and all its changes lurking just around the corner.

~*~*~

As customary, the Ryder house is the staple for parties among the team and New Year’s Eve is no different. Carlos has lost track of how many times he’s sat on their couch or been treated for Grace’s incredible home-cooking. It’s always been a source of comfort for him, being surrounded by these colleagues who have become an extended family to him.

This time next year, he’ll be in another time zone, familiarized with a new group of people. Carlos knows he’s jumping the gun. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll be able to visit back home and that this collection of people will still love him as they do now.

Carlos looks around the living room, taking stock: Marjan blowing into a noise maker in Mateo’s face and bursting into laughter, Paul shaking his head and dropping his face into his palm. Over by the kitchen he sees Grace and Judd swaying to the music playing as Captain Strand takes Michelle’s hand and begins dancing alongside the other couple. It warms Carlos’ heart and breaks it too, seeing this all for what will be the last time with this city being home.

Suddenly the room feels too small and he finds himself heading for the door, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. It’s cold out but Carlos remembers just how bitter the weather in New York was. This is nothing compared to that. And it’s this thought that twists at his heart a bit more, one more reminder of how much his life is set to change sooner than he thinks he’s ready for.

The new year is biting at his heels and time is just slipping by. Logically he knows that he shouldn’t be outside now, that he would be wise to savor these memories with his Austin crew while they’re here rather than lament later. But it all feels like too much and the last thing he wants is to let his pensive mood be a dark cloud over a celebratory and joyous time.

Carlos keeps walking until he reaches the park nearby the Ryder household. Naturally it’s abandoned as everyone is tucked away inside their homes either enjoying a quiet night in or throwing parties like the Ryders. Carlos draws in a breath and takes a seat on one of the swings, his fingers clutching on to the links. He quickly stands up the second he hears footsteps approaching, a figure walking towards him.

“It’s just me,” comes TK’s voice and sure enough the man’s features come into focus the closer he gets until he’s settling into the swing beside Carlos.

“I saw you take off. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

Carlos smiles a bit. “I appreciate it. I’m okay. I’m just...thinking about a lot right now.”

TK sways on his swing, letting a comfortable silence fall between them before he speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Carlos’ heart and thoughts feel so heavy now, such a contrast to how lighthearted and hopeful this holiday is meant to be. But TK looks at him with such genuine care that he finds himself almost desperate to unburden himself a bit.

“Sometimes I wish I could just stop time, you know? But hell, it’s New Year’s Eve. What more proof do I need that life is always moving forward?”

Carlos sighs and rocks slightly back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a downer. You should head on back inside, have fun with the others.”

TK is silent beside him, long enough for Carlos to pull his gaze toward the other man. TK is eyeing him thoughtfully.

“You’re scared about what comes next. That’s totally normal. Moving away, starting a new life somewhere else, it’s a big step. A huge change.”

Carlos frowns as he nods. “I wish I could see the end, you know? I wish I could see if it’s all worth it, that I’m making the right choice.”

TK hums in thought. “Well, the best way out is through, right?”

“So you don’t think it’s a mistake to move out to New York?”

TK shrugs. “I don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other for sure. But no, I don’t think it is. I think the fact that you’re even considering it at all should tell you something about how you feel about where you are now.”

Carlos grows quiet, considering the man’s words. But TK isn’t done dishing out his opinion.

“You’ve got an amazing team here, there’s no denying that. It’s a real family, not to mention your actual family is here too. But—and mind you I’m super biased here— New York is an amazing place to be, to live. If you’re feeling restless in Austin, I think New York is the perfect alternative.”

Carlos laughs at this. “So, so biased,” he muses.

TK jokingly puffs up his chest. “Hey, it’s not my fault people have written songs about it and flock to it from all corners of the world,” he jokes. “And all of them, like you would, find home.”

A soft sigh escapes Carlos’ lips as he grips the chain link of the swing.

“That does actually sound pretty nice. I’d miss everyone here like crazy but maybe it’s time for something new? I don’t know. I keep waiting for something extraordinary to happen but nothing ever really changes around here. And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I just—“

“You’ve outgrown it,” TK says simply. “And there’s nothing wrong with that either.”

Carlos smiles at him and nods. “I suppose not, no.”

“At least you’ll come to the city knowing someone; you won’t be alone or completely starting from scratch.”

“You? You would take that on?”

TK rolls his eyes. “Of course me. You think I’d leave you high and dry? Damn, I know New Yorkers have a bit of a rep but jeez,” he teases.

Carlos laughs. “I only meant...you barely even know me. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe so but I’d like to get to know you better. And if we’re gonna be calling the same city home, it’s kind of perfect. You get a new job, a new city, a new friend. Pretty sweet package, if you ask me.”

“You’ll be my tour guide then? You can take me to all the hot spots, Central Park and Times Square for starters.”

TK shakes his head in dismay. “God, Times Square,” he groans. “Hell on earth but sure, just for you I’d make the exception.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos says, placing a hand over his heart.

“As you should be. There aren’t many reasons I’d willingly go there so you should be patting yourself on the back right now.”

Carlos raises a brow. “But you’re thinking I’d be worth it?”

TK’s face grows serious. “In a lot of ways I’m thinking you would be, yes.”

Carlos' face flushes a bit and he looks away, down at his feet as he begins to kick out in earnest to start swinging.

Not for the first time since meeting TK he isn’t sure if there’s more to his words just below the surface, if he’s flirting or just being naturally charismatic. It shouldn’t matter either way, Carlos tells himself. Starting up a new relationship when so much in his life is already about to change doesn’t seem smart.

And yet it’s difficult to bear that in mind when he looks over and sees that TK is still watching him. The man smiles softly and follows Carlos' lead, swinging a bit.

In the distance Carlos can hear the rise in voices from houses where everyone is celebrating, just waiting to usher in the new year.

“One minute to go,” TK says, looking at the time on his watch and digging his feet into the ground to stop himself.

Carlos keeps going, breathing in the last dregs of this year before it’s gone with the tick of the clock. He looks up at the pinpricks of stars above, almost glistening in the clear sky. He closes his eyes, soaks in the moment, the last few seconds of this year winding down.

The New Years party goers can be heard shouting their countdown and beside him, TK joins in quietly as well.

Carlos opens his eyes once more and holds his breath as he upward, counting down the last few seconds in his head. This year is going, going...

Gone.

He exhales as shouts from the neighboring houses rent the air. He stops swinging then, digging his feet into the hard earth beneath him as he looks over at TK. Beside him the man’s face is flushed, the tip of his nose pink from the cold but his gaze is unrelenting as he leans forward.

Carlos’ body seems to move on its own accord, closing the distance between them as well. He doesn’t think about anything other than what TK’s lips will feel like and before he realizes it, he’s getting his answer.

It’s a chaste kiss, truly just a meeting of mouths in a gentle press but it warms Carlos from the center all the way through his entire body. TK’s lips are soft and warm despite the cold.

“Happy New Year, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos doesn’t have the slightest clue of what the road ahead will look like exactly but it’s enough to know that in some capacity, TK is going to be a part of it. Be it as a friend or something more, it makes Carlos hopeful to see how life will unfold, what other surprises it may have in store.

Carlos stares at him for a moment and it seems as if TK and the whole world is holding its breath as they sit in silence together. This feeling in his chest is so unlike anything Carlos has experienced before. He likes to think things through, to anticipate at least three steps ahead but his future is such a blank slate that it’s truly anyone’s guess as to what will happen next. All he can do is control this present moment and as Carlos sees it, kissing TK is the only thing on his agenda for right now.

He leans in again and kisses the man once more, deeply this time, hand cradling the back of TK’s neck.

Maybe this is risky, maybe this will only complicate his life further when he settles in New York and has to figure out what this all means. But in this moment, that all feels like a lifetime away, a page from a chapter that hasn’t been written yet. There’s only the here and now with this beautiful man that fills him with possibilities.

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

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Antimatter | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2486

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR 13X15, general Criminal Minds things (mentions of violence, shootings, robberies, death, etc)

This is part of my Galaxy Universe (MASTERLIST). You don’t need to read anything prior to this to understand this fic, though it may help!

You thought your little found family had finally found some reprieve after a long year of difficulties. Spencer was reinstated, Mr. Scratch was dead, Matt Simmons joined the team, and everything seemed like it was returning to your normal crime fighting routine.

As it turns out, you were wrong.

You didn’t think twice about following Spencer out of the round table room. You were loyal to your team, and Assistant Director Linda Barnes was not going to snuff the mojo out of these people that you loved so much.

You caught up to Spencer in the bullpen, where he was shoving books into his bag. He didn’t look up when you slid onto his desk.

You waited a minute before speaking, “what’s our plan?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” you were quick to follow him to the elevator.

“We need to come up with a plan before you leave, Spence,” you knew what he had just done was risky but it was the right move and you stood by your decision to follow him. You also knew that the problem wasn’t going to be solved without some other course of action, however.

“I can’t go back there. I’m not working with her scrutinizing our every move.”

“So don’t. Stay here and figure out how we’re going to get her out of our hair. Emily might know something that we don’t, she just had a bunch of meetings with Barnes, right?” You didn’t like how tense this conversation was becoming. You were currently on the same page as Spencer, that much you knew, but he could read 20,000 words per minute and it was going to take a lot for you to keep up with the pace his brain was working.

“Emily’s suspended,” you could tell he was thinking hard about what steps to take next.

“Go to her place and let her know what’s happening. Distancing yourself from Barnes is the best move before you get yourself fired.”

“What about you?” The elevator dinged to signal it’s arrival. Spencer stepped inside, holding the doors open.

“I’m going to go with the team. We need boots on the ground to figure out exactly what her plan in action looks like. I’ll be a centralized point for info about how she’s targeting everyone and get you it as quickly as I can.”

“Good luck,” he gave you a sad excuse for a smile.

“Go get Emily, I’ll be ok.” You watched the doors close, then walked back towards the round table room. You straightened your posture before opening the door and positioning yourself next to JJ. The rest of the team gave you some very strange looks that you tried to ignore.

“Will you be joining us, Agent (y/l/n)?” Barnes asked, almost as if she expected you to say no.

“I will, thanks,” you showed no weakness, making direct eye contact with her. She didn’t push further, instead confirming JJ’s ‘Wheel’s Up’ and leaving the room.

You spent the entire trip to St. Louis avoiding questions from the rest of the team about what had happened when you and Spencer left the briefing.

In a moment of quiet on the jet, JJ approached you while you were getting coffee.

“Were you able to talk to Spence before he left?” She asked in a hushed whisper, back to the rest of the plane.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, eyes flickering to where Barnes was staring the two of you down, “I’ll tell you about it later, it’s best that you don’t know for now. Trust us on this?”

JJ nodded, “let me know what you need, I’ll make sure it happens.”

You arrived in St. Louis and watched as Barnes demeaned the local PD, undermined the procedural profiling, and intentionally paired herself off with each member on your team. It was only a matter of time before she got to you.

You had been purposely avoiding her, instead collecting tidbits of information from your coworkers about their conversations with her that were unrelated to the case at hand. You intentionally stayed behind to work victimology when she finally cornered you in the conference room.

“You’re loyal to a fault, Agent (y/l/n),” she wasted no time addressing you.

“Excuse me?” You chose to not look up from the crime scene photos.

“Following Agent Reid out of the office this morning was a bold choice,” she tried to assert herself into your space, something you weren’t about to allow.

“I don’t see how my loyalty is a fault. I could see that Doctor Reid was unwell and I wanted to make sure he was ok.”

“You were suspended while he was in prison last year, were you not?” Clearly she had done her homework, although you didn’t like the way she twisted the situation inaccurately.

“I was on medical leave from field work, I still assisted remotely from Quantico and retained all other privileges.”

“Caused by Agent Reid’s arrest?”

“Caused by pre-existing mental health conditions that I’ve been treating since before I joined the BAU. My leave was temporary to help get it under control after the stress of Doctor Reid’s false arrest.”

She was quiet for a minute as you shuffled to the next file. You hoped that she would start asking about the case before you lost your temper, your secret mission would be compromised if you couldn’t keep your head down about it. Her next statement didn’t surprise you, though it came from left field.

“You do know that interpersonal relationships within a Unit are against Bureau policy.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re implying,” you put down the file to finally square up to Barnes. She had seen your file, you knew that much, but you were now doubting how much she had actually read into it.

“Are you and Agent Reid romantically involved?”

“Doctor Reid is my best friend. Last time I checked there was nothing in Bureau policy that didn’t allow that. I don’t appreciate you speculating about my personal relationships when they’re clearly not relevant to this case.”

Questioning your loyalty to the team was one thing, but attacking the most pure thing in your life was going too far.

“What is relevant to this case then, Agent? Your skills must be more useful elsewhere than sitting in a conference room looking at photos. Perhaps a transfer to a tactical unit would be more beneficial to the Bureau?” She finally pushed in a direction you were expecting.

“I would think that the Bureau would be more interested in well rounded agents instead of one trick ponies. I’m building my skillset here, rather than getting stuck in a rut doing tactical work.” It wasn’t completely the truth, just last year you had talked with Spencer about the possibility of you transferring to the Hostage Rescue Team. A tactical position would make sense, considering your strengths, but you had found such an unlikely home at the BAU that leaving was out of the question.

“You’ve been building your skills here for almost a decade. Why do you think Agent Prentiss was promoted to Unit Chief over you?”

“She was the right choice. She has seniority, as well as a more rounded viewpoint from her other assignments. I trust Emily Prentiss wholeheartedly.”

Just like Matt had predicted, Barnes was trying to pit you against your team, “what about Agent Jareau? You’ve been a profiler longer than she has, do you know why I promoted her above you?”

It was her mistake, honestly. Of all the people who she could try to turn against the BAU, you weren’t a good choice. Instead of falling into her trap, you doubled down, “she’s been with the team longer than I have. Knowing how the team works is just as important as knowing how to profile if you want to do this job right. I fully support JJ as Unit Chief, but that’s not why you picked her, is it?”

“It is not.” You waited for her to elaborate, but instead she left the conference room to talk to Matt. As soon as she left your phone was at your ear calling Spencer.

“She had the nerve to ask me if I was romantically involved with you,” you hissed as soon as he answered. You heard Emily laugh on the other end of the line.

“What’s happening with the rest of the team?” Spencer spoke up.

“She’s trying to push us all out, but keeps denying it. We’re closing in on this case, but she’s stepping on our toes all over the place. She wants to make this a quick close but honestly she’s only making it harder for us to profile this guy. How’s it going on your end?”

There was a pause, which you assumed was caused by Spencer taking you off of speaker and stepping out of the room.

“She’s trying to leave. She said someone had to take the fall for what happened with the Truthers-“

“You’re not letting her, right? Nobody needs to take the fall for what happened, where did she get that idea?”

“Barnes, I guess. I’ll keep working here, keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Ok, good luck.”

Doing what you were doing proved harder than you thought. Barnes stepped completely out of line during the validation strategy, getting the unsub killed when Tara and Luke were completely capable of talking him down. You were fuming but knew you needed to keep your head down as to not blow your cover with Spencer, so instead you tacked yourself to Luke’s side with the knowledge that he would tell you if you were about to do something stupid.

It was the right call, because JJ tore into Barnes on the jet and you knew you didn’t have the authority to add on to it. It felt like a small victory, until Barnes met you all in the office right before you were about to head over to O’Keefe’s.

“Agents Prentiss, your suspension is lifted. You will be reassigned within the Bureau, your new post has yet to be determined. Agent Lewis, you will also be reassigned. Agent (y/l/n), you are being reassigned to lead a SWAT team in the city, congratulations on the promotion. Agent Reid, you will be a full time professor with our exchange program. Agent Rossi, the FBI deeply appreciates your service and the Director wishes you nothing but the best in your retirement. Agent Simmons, Agent Alvez, you will remain here at the BAU. Garcia, your loyalty to the team is appreciated but it feels like a fresh start in a different department would be best.”

She made it seem like your reassignment was a good thing, but that was far from the truth.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer answered his door faster than you thought he would, eyes narrowing behind his glasses when he saw your disheveled state a few weeks later.

“I’m losing it. I’m going to get my whole team killed. I can’t keep doing this,” you spilled before you were even able to step into Spencer’s apartment.

“Here,” Spencer led you to his couch and pressed a hot cup of tea into your hands, “take a deep breath, you’re here with me. Did you just get off of a case?”

“Yeah, a bank robbery downtown. We locked it down but the whole time I was thinking about how it could have gone wrong.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, instead letting you sip tea and breathe for a minute.

“When Barnes reassigned me I thought her goal was to give me a promotion so I wouldn’t want to come back to the BAU.”

“It was, she knows you’re an incredible agent. Any unit is lucky to have you.”

“What if it was to break me though? She’s read my file, she knows my episodes have been more frequent since you were arrested in Mexico. Did you hear about the school shooting that happened last week?”

Spencer nodded.

“I was there, Spence. I was there. And the whole time I was leading the team through the hallways getting kids out I kept thinking about Jack, and Henry, Michael, and Hank. How they could be in that school, how there were already kids in that school that I hadn’t saved. I couldn’t save them.

“When I first started out at the Academy my peers all told me I would head up SWAT one day. I thought it was what I wanted until I joined the BAU. You even said I’d do well on a tactical team a year ago, so I trusted the process and that we’d get back at Barnes but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having panic attacks after every case. It’s not fair to my team, someone’s going to get killed and it’s going to be my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s Barnes’. Why don’t you take a couple of days off and sit in on my lectures? You can even guest speak if you want, I scheduled an extra day in the syllabus in case I needed to go over any material again but I don’t need to use it.”

“You’re too good at this, Spence. Where’s your mom?” You looked around his small apartment, already starting to feel better.

“She’s in the bedroom resting. She’s liked having me home so much, although she asks me almost every day when you’re coming to visit,” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m at work now more than when we were in the BAU. I have a newfound respect for every time I’ve called in SWAT in the past nine years,” you joked.

The comfortable silence that fell between you as you finished the drink in your hand was cut short by Spencer’s phone ringing.

“Doctor Reid,” he answered, “Hi Luke, what’s up?”

Your eyebrows smashed together, listening closely to the half of the conversation you were able to hear.

“Don’t bother, they’re with me. We’ll meet you there. Bye,” he hung up and turned to you with a slight frown.

“They have a case that they want us to look at. Barnes won’t approve it, we’re meeting at Emily’s.”

“A secret team meeting?” you stood up excitedly, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face, “let’s go.”

“Hey Spence?” you asked as he got into your car, a small detail of your conversation occurring to you.

“Hmm?” he clicked his seatbelt.

“You didn’t know I was coming over. The tea that you gave me… you made it for yourself, didn’t you?”

Spencer smiled bashfully, “you needed it more than I did.”

“The world doesn’t deserve you, Spencer Reid,” you sighed, putting the car in drive.

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @tj-drinks-tea

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #platonic soulmates #platonic imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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enkelimagnus · 4 years ago

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A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 6, 3943 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for

Read on AO3

Back to Vex, on her path to hunt a fiend...

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

“It’s fine, thank you anyway.”

Vex slams the red button on her phone, as if clicking on it harder will make her frustration known to the world. She wishes she had an older phone so she could slam down the handset onto the base. It would be like slamming a door at the end of an argument; a physical show of her feelings.

She’s been on the phone all morning, trying desperately to get some answers on what she’s supposed to do with the fiend now that it has killed at least one person. Not anyone, at that, someone trained to take things down and keep parks protected. If Regae was anything like her, he had put up a fight before dying. But the creature had prevailed.

The one thing she was told about was the Grey Hunt. Not only did the Pale Guard officer tell her about it on the crime scene, but pretty much everyone she’s tried calling told her to ask them. Except they don’t exist anymore. They haven’t in years.

There are no records of previous members either. Vex wants to scream in frustration. For the first time since she’s arrived, she realizes how alone she is. She wasn’t so alone before. In Shademurk, she could ask Saundor and if he was in a good mood and if she played her cards right, he would use his amazing influence to help her. Here she has no one. She almost misses him.

What? No. She doesn’t miss him. She can’t miss him, she won’t. The fact that he was supposed to love her and that she had to bargain with him, the very sovereign of Shademurk Bog, to get him to do anything for her, from dishes to actually working with her to make Shademurk better.

She doesn’t miss him. At all. Her new home is completely clear of him, empty of memories of him. She’s not going to choke on his presence every time she looks somewhere. It’s better here. She’s better now than she ever was before.

If Saundor was here, he would take credit for her strength, for her work. He would say he made her, shaped her into the ranger he is today. He always used to say that. She used to believe him.

Vex stands from her chair and paces a little into the cabin. No Grey Hunt. No Pale Guard. As far as she knows, Pike Trickfoot and Grog Strongjaw are still willing to go hunt a fiend with her. That’s all she has. Her own limited abilities, a cleric and a goliath. And no Vax.

She told him to stay in Westrunn a little. She was hoping to have the fiend problem sorted before he arrived, to be honest, so she wouldn’t have to ask for his help. He’s helped her way too much already.

Besides, she’d rather know he’s with Gilmore, enjoying himself and his boyfriend. They don’t see each other enough. She can manage without him. She should be able to. She’s a strong, capable person.

In the bathroom, she splashes cold water onto her face, forcefully clearing her thoughts. When she looks up from the sink to look into the mirror, she swallows, hard. She looks tired. There are dark circles in the brown skin below her eyes. Her lips are cracked, from the cold. She’s forgotten to put on lip balm. Her hair is dirty, greasy.

It’s been three days. Three days since she’s received that call on the forgotten radio. Three days and she’s already forgotten to take care of herself. She’s really holding on by a thread, isn’t she?

Her nails dig painfully into her palm and only then does she stop staring at her own tired face.

She walks away and slams the door behind herself. The force makes the wall shudder and it feels right. Vex smiles a little. That was the first hint of satisfaction she’s felt since her arrow shot through Donovan Clarence’s hand.

The cub at her feet whines a little, turning over from where he’d been napping.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly and crouches to pet the dark brown fur. “Slamming the door woke you up, huh?” She asks softly.

The cub leans into her hand like he’s starving for touch. He’s always going to forgive her for these things, isn’t he? Her smile widens slightly, growing more relaxed and genuine.

Her phone buzzes and she reaches for it, before sitting on the floor next to the cub. It’s a text from Vax, with an image attached. She opens the image first.

It’s a photo of the inside of a shop, large and filled with glass-covered shelves. She can see the shine of gold and silver and precious gems behind the glass. Her eyebrow raises. The fact they’re still behind glass and not in Vax’s sneaky hand is surprising. She looks over at the caption of the image.

Exercise in restraint: Gilmore’s shop. Many trinkets, none for me.

About five different dirty remarks come to Vex’s mind but she pushes them back. Vax is a bit uncomfortable with discussions of his sex life, joking unfactual remarks or not. She’s not going to make him uncomfortable now.

She takes a picture of the cub snuggled in the space between her crossed legs.

I saw this one and couldn’t help myself… Trinket addiction running in the family?

She sends the picture but looks down at the cub with a thought. Trinket is a good name. She likes it. Loves it, actually.

“May I call you Trinket, darling?” She asks. Giving him a name means keeping him, but she’s far past that point now. She’s known it, deep down for a while.

The cub doesn’t seem to mind it. Vex presses a kiss to the furry head with a smile, the biggest in a long time.

They say rangers often find companions. Vex has just found hers.

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

They meet at the mouth of the trail, the way they’d originally planned. It’s a few days later than expected, yes, but Vex has been busy desperately trying to get some sort of official help. She was hoping not to have to ask Pike and Grog.

She sees the goliath before the gnome, the giant axe hanging heavy over the man’s shoulder. By his side, the cleric looks way less aggressive. Vex doesn’t know which one will be more useful. Divine healing or brute force. Either way, she’s incredibly glad to have someone by her side right now.

“So,” she smiles nervously. “Thank you for coming. I apologize for pushing back the date of meeting. I was hoping to get some sort of professional help, but it seems like Whitestone doesn’t have the infrastructure.”

The cleric, Pike, nods. “The city has seen a lot of things.”

Vex doesn’t know what that means, really. She doesn’t ask. Not right now. She’ll ask later, once they have a dead fiend and a victory under their belt. People were much more likely to spill secrets if adrenaline and serotonin were flowing through their veins.

Sometimes, she’s almost ashamed of the many tricks she’s learned throughout the years. And then she remembers it was people like the Syngornian Elves and Saundor who made her learn these things,and she stops feeling like she should have somehow stayed innocent through all the shit they put her through.

They start on their way, not to where she initially sensed the fiend, but to where the body was found. It’s more likely that they’ll find usable traces there.

The winter cold bites at her cheeks, but the goliath is shirtless. She raises an eyebrow, both respectful and thinking him mad to be out there like this. They start climbing up the trail in relative silence, with the crunching of their boots and the jingling of the cleric’s chainmail.

Vex doesn’t know what kind of small talk to do now. This is not a light-hearted situation, and she just wants the creature out of her woods.

“Have you killed fiends before?” The goliath asks after a moment.

Vex looks over at him over her shoulder. “Not a fiend, no. I’ve killed other things. Fey, mostly.”

Pike raises an eyebrow. “Fey? Were you around the doors to the Feywild before you came to the Alabaster Sierras?”

Vex hesitates for a moment. It’s a lot of information to give to complete strangers. She shrugged the paranoia off however. “I was. I was tasked with keeping an eye on a part of the Verdant Expanse, that, just like Syngorn, can switch between the Feywild and our plane. I lived in the Feywild for a part of my time there.”

“That’s so cool!” Pike grins and Vex can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips.

It is pretty cool.

The Feywild is somewhere most people have barely heard of, let alone visited. And Vex, though in pretty horrible circumstances, has been able to call it home for a moment of her life. On the way up the trail, her two companions manage to coax her into recounting the Feywild.

She tells them of the permanent dusk, of the sun that’s always at its most beautiful, its most reddening and purpling state duskward of Shademurk. She tells them of the dark of the night on the other side, of looking at the sky and never knowing exactly the time. She tells them of age-old trees that hold secrets they only tell the worthy.

She tells them of dryads and naiads and the howling of lycans. She doesn’t tell them of Saundor but she tells them of Fenthras.

One day, she’ll reach under her bed, take it out and shoot. It’s still the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, the wood alive and the power tangible. She still dreams of wielding it, as she runs free through ever shifting woods, laughter on her lips.

When they make it to the campsite where the body was found, she feels lighter than she has in a long time. Both the cleric and the goliath are smiling lightly. They exchange a look, and then get to work.

Vex sits on a stone and starts expanding her consciousness as Pike runs identifying and tracking spells on whatever magic trace they can find. It’s hard to tune out her kind babbling or Grog’s regular deep-toned comments, but Vex finally manages and exhales.

With her breath goes her mind and soon she finds herself floating, drifting, one with the wind and with nature. She barely has to wait to find the fiendish presence. It pings on her mental radar loud and clear and close.

Way too close. They’re close to its lair.

Vex’s eyes open wide and she comes back crashing into herself. She barely gives herself time to come back into her body before she shoots to her feet and shares her findings. Grog takes his giant axe out. Pike unclasps a mace the size of her body from Grog’s back.

Vex takes her bow in hand and notches an arrow, ready to draw and shoot. They start walking in the direction where she can still feel the echoing presence of the creature. It rests heavy on her back of her neck, a pressure she can’t shake.

They walk into higher grass off of beaten paths. Vex slips into the underbrush with ease, but it’s far from the case for the two accompanying her. Pike in particular makes great noise and gets caught in almost every weed she can possibly get caught on. Vex huffs. Here goes the effect of surprise.

They find the lair empty, and her heart tightens in her chest. Fuck. It knows they are there.

A shape moves from the shadows overhead and Vex immediately reacts. Her body moves without her thinking anything through. Her arrow shoots through the air and hits right in the middle of the creature’s chest. It screams in pain. Vex smirks. She’s good at this.

The creature has stopped long enough for all of them to see what it is. It’s tall, Vex’s size. Its skin is spiky, barbed, horns sprouting from its skull. Its scream makes the air around it shiver with heat.

The scream is immediately answered by one from Grog. The goliath steps forward with bloodshot eyes and angry determination. He swings his axe forward and pounces on the creature. Maybe his rage has distracted him, because his axe swings wide, the creature too fast to be hit by the massive weapon.

The cleric immediately jumps into action, hands shining with divine light as she reaches up with her holy symbol. Vex can see the wings of Sarenrae carved onto the metal before they disappear behind the burning white light. It shoots out of the symbol and hits the creature.

It screams again as the radiant light engulfs it, lighting it up and burning it with divine power. If they were in darkness, it would be obvious to all of them now. There’s no way any of them are going to miss their next hit against it.

Grog has gotten too close to the creature however, and though it’s still burning with light, it takes no time to attack the giant target the goliath makes. It swipes at the grey-skinned man, one hand missing before the second catches the goliath in the chest, dragging into the skin. Vex winces, but the goliath seems more okay than expected.

The creature tries to hit him with his tail but Grog dodges it with a shiver-inducing grin. “Come on, devil devil!” He taunts. “Is that all you can do?”

Vex’s eyes cross with the creature’s and she takes the opportunity to Hunter’s Mark it. She reaches for another arrow, but her fingers rip against her quiver, shaking lightly now that she’s realized what they were facing. She curses. Pike sends her a slightly worried look.

Grog retaliates against the clawing he’s just received. The axe cleaves a giant gash into the shoulder of the fiend. The goliath immediately reiterates, hacking at the shoulder. The arm of the fiend is now hanging by tendons. It seems to be in incredible pain.

Reaching up with its good arm, the creature screams, warmth radiating from it. Flames erupt from the hand of the creature. Both tries miss the massive target of Grog. The creature seems confused. That’s what pain like the one being inflicted to it does.

Vex notches in another arrow. It grazes the creature but is deflected by its spikes. She groans in annoyance. None of this is working. Why is she so useless right now?

Grog’s axe finally cuts off the creature’s arm, but it doesn’t seem to slow it down that much. Another ray of blinding light hits the devil, however. Pike is breathing hard, but her spells are finding purchase and Vex is incredibly thankful for that, even if they do not do a lot of damage.

The goliath keeps taking a great amount of injury from the furious and in pain devil. Fire burns onto the grey skin, scorching it and a sickening smell permeates the air around them. Vex wants this to end, but she knows it won’t be that easy.

Vex’s next arrow finds purchase right as the great axe slashes through the devil’s chest. A handaxe flies by Vex and hits it square in the thigh. The wounded creature turns around, tail whipping at Grog, before pouncing in with one undamaged arm, missing the goliath entirely with the last two.

They keep hammering at the creature, arrows and great axe wounds and additional mace wounds from a determined Pike hacking at its defenses and crushing its bones. Vex is sweating, she’s a little unfocused, and the screams of the goliath’s rage resounds in her head.

When it finally falls down, it’s one of Vex’s arrows that lodges itself in its eyeball, deeply. It gurgles as it falls, twitching for a few seconds until it stops moving entirely. Vex exhales. She feels like the combat has lasted hours when it’s probably only been minutes.

Pike rushes to her friend and heals him immediately, the burn and other wounds healing and disappearing from the grey flesh as Vex watches. A little unsteady, she finds somewhere to sit and to search.

She waits for a while, searches for something she could have missed, but all fiendish presence is gone from the perimeter of her searching abilities. Relief floods through her system and she finally smiles. It was hard, but they did it. They killed the fiend. The Alabaster Sierras are safer now than they were before.

Vex’s entire body unravels suddenly, her shoulder slumping. They’re fine. She’s fine. They’re all alive and safe and the fiend is gone and she didn’t die killing it. She looks at Pike and Grog. They both look messy and fight-tousled. Vex imagines she looks like that too.

“Thank you,” she says. She means it.

Grog smiles at her, a warm smile. He’s nice. Big and scary, but nice. “It was really fun.” He probably means it too.

Pike nods. “It was!”

Vex is a little more surprised at that, but she can’t help the grin that stretches over her mouth. They start walking again. Vex invites them for tea or coffee. They both ask for alcohol and she chuckles.

They settle around Vex’s table. The cabin feels a little cramped with the two of them. Vex manages to find three containers for the strong old whiskey that Regae left behind. They cheer and drink.

“I’m from Westrunn. The Everlight brought me here,” Pike says when Vex asks if she’s from Whitestone.

“I’m from Westrunn too,” Grog smiles. “And I follow her.” There is unbridled affection in the way he looks over at Pike.

“My brother’s currently in Westrunn,” she points out. “Spending some time with his boyfriend.”

Pike nods. “That’s sweet! I hope he enjoys the city. It’s a little quiet, but it’s a nice place.”

Vex doesn’t say that she doesn’t expect Vax to do a lot of sight-seeing while with Gilmore. The three of them share some food, the rations they’d taken for a possible camping in the mountains, had the fiend evaded them for much longer.

The camaraderie wraps around her like a warm blanket and she finds herself laughing more than she has in years. When she herself starts to feel a light buzz from the alcohol she’s been very careful not to drink too much of, she shifts and prepares herself to start asking questions.

“Have you spent a lot of time here in Whitestone?” She asks after a moment.

“It’s our first time here, actually,” Pike smiles. “We usually stay in Westrunn, or travel south, not north. There is not much for us here.”

Vex raises an eyebrow. “What changed?”

Pike shrugs. “As I said, the Everlight. I’m a cleric, and when my deity calls, I always answer.”

Vex tries to figure out if that’s true, if Pike always answers to Sarenrae but the gnome is hard to read, her blue eyes staring right back into Vex’s as she speaks. There is a steadiness about her though. Something Vex usually senses in the druids and clerics and acolytes of this world, and also in some arcanists, who have faith in their studies the way others have faith in their gods.

Vex wonders how she feels to people. Is she steady with faith? Or is she chaotic and unstable? She wishes, in this moment, that she could see herself through someone else’s eyes. She wants to know what she is to others, so badly.

“What did the Everlight tell you to do here?” She continues.

Pike’s eyes grow a little sharper for a moment, before she smiles again. “There is something for me to heal here. A soul yearning desperately for redemption. My goddess is the patron of healing and redemption, of second chances. This is what I am here for.”

Vex swallows. “Would that be related to the De Rolo Massacre?”

“Maybe,” the gnome shrugs. “Or maybe not. If we had all the details of what exactly our deities want us to do, all these divine quests wouldn’t be quite the challenges they are supposed to be.”

That’s true, she guesses. Vex is definitely not faithful enough for this. She smiles anyway, leaning back against her chair.

The gnome keeps talking. “Maybe the fiend we killed was that soul. Maybe someone we’ve crossed paths with in the street. Maybe it’s you.”

Vex freezes.

“Many people would ask questions about someone like you deciding to live alone this way, in a cabin in the forest,” Pike shrugs. “It’s none of my business, of course. And I will never fault anyone for unconventional life choices.” She hums. “But you ask many questions.”

Kind, warm, but very perceptive. Vex holds up her hands. “You got me,” she huffs. “Just trying to get answers about what’s going on in this city. No one will answer my questions.” She’s tired of it now. So fucking tired. “It was incredibly difficult to find people to help me with this fiend business because no one will talk to me about anything.”

Pike reaches for her hand. “You are a stranger to these people, Vex’ahlia. Give them time to get to know you. For all they know, you have bad intentions. I come with the symbol of my goddess, and that opens some doors to me, and to Grog.” The goliath nods at the mention of his name. “You don’t have that. Unless you’re some deity’s chosen or champion… But you don’t seem like it.”

Vex almost gets offended by that. But the gnome is right. Vex came into town with suspicious eyes. That’s not something people can trust.

“I’m sorry,” Vex sighs. “For the questions I’ve asked. You didn’t have to answer them.”

Pike shrugs. “I didn’t really mind. I’m here because I need to be. And Grog’s with me because he always is, and always will be.” She smiles at that. “You’re here for a reason too.”

Vex huffs. “Right,” she shakes her head. “Did Sarenrae tell you that?” She asks sarcastically.

“You’re not a believer,” Pike chuckles. “It kinda comes off of you like waves. That you don’t believe in anything.”

Vex lost her reason to believe when a dragon burnt her home village to the ground, taking her mother with it. Every snide remark from Syngornian elves, every time she had to fight for Saundor to do anything for her, those were all nails in the coffin of her faith, in gods or in people.

“I think… I think you should start the way back to Whitestone. The road is long, and I don’t want you to get caught by the night. There are creatures.”

Grog huffs. “We can take them on. You fought by our side, you have seen our power.”

Vex doesn’t reply. Pike gets the memo. She gently pushes Grog into getting up. Vex walks them to the door and to the trail and bids them goodbye.

She sits back down at the table. The cabin is small but it feels huge now that she’s alone. Sounds seem to reverberate now that it’s only her breathing, only her body. She wants to run off and tells those two kind people to come back, to stay, to not leave her alone like this. She doesn’t though. She exhales and she starts preparing for more work, and for a good night of sleep.

Did she get any answer? No she didn’t. But at least she’s killed a fiend. The Alabaster Sierras are a bit safer than they were when she arrived.

#perc'ahlia #vex'ahlia #mine #fic #critical role #pike trickfoot #grog strongjaw #vox machina

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kamilah-is-queen · 4 years ago

Note

Great ! but i have to warn you it’s gonna be a LONG one as i have written all the ideas but i can’t write the scenario without it being VERY cheesy. plus I’d appreciate it if you didn’t include smut in my request which i’ll post after this one but maybe just some fluff and “indicators” of following smut but not actually writing any 😂 (ps. you don’t have to reply to this ask neither the following ask in which i’ll put the whole fic idea)

I was informed that @rocketscientist07 had written a similar piece on AO3, so just to clarify I don’t mean to copy their work and ideas. Credit for this idea goes to the anon that requested this. The beginning of the story is changed slightly from the end scene from Bloodbound, due to an easier plot style.

Link to The Darker Side

Tagging: @wisebananapatrol, @kamilahtopme, @vonda-b-real, @iamsimpforpoppy, @millasayeed, @clan-sayeed-fic, @queenkamilah

Rheya outstretched a blood soaked hand towards the Bloodkeeper, an evil smirk rising to her face. “Come with me, Amy. Learn what true power feels like..” A glow of orange light blossoming out of her hand as she guided it towards the Bloodkeeper. “..These puny creatures living in my shadow can’t give you the power, the strength, the potential to rule the world and have you as it’s Queen Amy.”

The young vampire in an attempt to satisfy her curiosity, reached her fingers towards the bright glow from Rheya’s hand. A bolt of energy burst through her body, the pain replaced by strength, her insecurities replaced with a new found confidence.

She lifted off the stage, the same beam of light emitting from her eyes as Rheya’s voice echoed inside the Bloodkeeper’s head. “These mortals don’t deserve to live Amy,” she said, gesturing to the dumbfounded group of humans in their seats, “kill every last one of them.” The First commanded.

Amy closed her eyes as the power grew, Jax, Lily and Adrian watched in horror before Kamilah sprang to the place beneath Amy. “Amy, wait!” The youngest vampire bowed her head to meet Kamilah’s eyes, her voice deeper than a crack of thunder. “It’s too late, Kamilah.

The Egyptian didn’t attempt to stop the tears that slid from her eyes, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces all over again. “No, Amy no, it isn’t too late. You can fight this, I know you can, my love.” Her voice cracked, fear and anxiousness rising in her voice.

“You're stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, even stronger than I thought...than I thought you could’ve been Amy. We’ve been through so much, all of us, don’t give up now..”

“We defeated Gauis together, traveled to Japan and worked with the Five. Crashed down on that island where Demetrieus’s tree was living. If you weren’t strong or powerful, none of us would be here today Amy. None of us.”

Amy watched intently, before turning her head away. “I’m not who you think I am, not anymore.” She raised her hands toward the sky and closed her fists, the mortal crowd screaming in agony before one by one, the blood pooled out of their bodies and towards Amy.

The tears fell furiously as Kamilah sunk to her knees, sobbing into her hands. “My my, what a pity.” Rheya cackled into the night sky, extending her hand to Amy once more. With a final look towards her friends, towards everything she ever knew, she met Kamilah’s gaze.

Amy saw fear. She saw the memories of them flash through Kamilah’s eyes. Memories of them sharing the warmest of cuddles and the softest of kisses. Memories of the two laughing into the night sky, and some of when the night was more passionate like in the Cabin. The moment when Kamilah confessed her love as Amy slipped away from the world, all of them meaning nothing in that split second.

Amy relived the moments where she broke down Kamilah’s steel walls, especially the walls of her heart. She had to make a decision. Would she stay with Kamilah and enjoy the safety and security of the Egyptian? Or, would she choose Rheya and her promise of power and control over the world. To rule as a true queen, with no boundaries to constrict here.

The voice in Amy’s head screamed at her to choose Kamilah, but if she did, one of her friends wouldn’t make it. She knew that one of them wouldn’t, and she couldn’t risk it. After everything she’d been through, they were family. And it was wrong to turn your back on family, but it was for the greater good. Only, the gang didn’t see it as that.

“I’m sorry..” Amy’s voice barely a whisper, before she took Rheya’s hand and they disappeared into the night sky.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Kamilah slammed her fist into the stage of the opera house, her vision blurred with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She punched the stage again, and again, and again until her hands were completely soaked in blood and the skin on her knuckles ripped as Adrian attempted to calm her.

He wrapped his arms around her, a strong grip holding Kamilah in place as she shrieked with the heartache. Kamilah eventually tired out, the events of the past few weeks catching up to her. The plane crash with Gauis, the trip to Japan, all the moments with Amy, they all came crashing and burning in her heart.

“It’s okay Kamilah, she’s made her decision. It’s okay, we’ll find a way to get her back.” He slowly rocked the older vampire in his arms, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm as Kamilah relaxed.

“What if she doesn’t..want to come back Adrian?” Kamilah’s voice thick with grief, feeling a sense of instability for the first time in her life. Adrian took a deep breath, steeling himself, “I promise, she will. She can’t leave you, leave us like this without reason sister. Love will bring her back to you”

“She betrayed us.” With enough agony for the day, Kamilah passed out into Adrain’s arms. Her heart weighing in her chest like an anvil, an anvil broken into thousands of heavy little pieces.

5 years later…

The roaring noise of the thunder and lightning filled the night sky as Amy walked through the streets of Japan. She gripped the fabric of her clothes, the material drenched in the rain but that didn’t stop her from continuing forward.

The lasting words of her previous conversation rang through Amy’s head…

“Demetrius, if we wish to obtain the type of power we seek, then we mustn’t stand idle. What are we waiting for? One move and the superpowers of the world will be beneath us, begging for mercy.”

Rheya clenched her fist and raised it to the sky, her eyes glimmering with hope yet dark with longing. The four were placed at the dinner table, Rheya at the head and Demetrius, Lola, Gauis and Amy positioned nearby.

When Amy had agreed to join Rheya in her hungry quest for power, she had also unknowingly agreed to be an anchor to the other side. With a lack of support, Rheya brought both Lola and Demetrius back to life. Not only for emotional support, but for advice in their conquest.

Unfortunately, this only worsened Amy’s condition. As if being away from anyone she’s ever known was difficult enough, the burden of being the link between the living and the dead was also placed upon her shoulders.

As Amy listened on to the conversation, rage filled in her chest. All the innocent lives of mortals to be lost, at the cost of one of her friends was unbearable to think about. The anger consumed her, filling her body and she didn’t attempt to cease it.

“While you may be right, Rheya...we’re still lacking the resources to pull something like this off. I think we should wait, hold off as long as possible and strike when least expected.” Amy stood from the table, excusing herself as she prayed her tactics had worked.

“Amy wait…” Gauis stood and immediately rushed after her. “I know something’s off, you’ve never acted like this before.” He gently cupped Amy’s face with a hand, Amy leaning into the touch before pulling away slowly. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She replied with a small smile.

Gauis had been there through it all. From the very first night she spent with the First and her crew up until that point. In some ways, they had grown close. When Amy needed security and a sense of tranquility, Gauis was the first to be at her side. Through all his hardened and almost non existent emotions, he felt sorry for the girl. She was a mere child, thrown into a whirlpool of danger and excitement and he felt it was his place to keep her safe.

They’d spent many nights together, Gauis not knowing whether Amy truly felt for him the way he did for her, or if it was an escape to a land of peace and calm.

With a small sigh, Gauis pulled his hand back. “Perhaps a stroll will clear your mind. Allow me to join you, my Queen?”

“I think it’ll be best if I took this one alone.” Amy encouragingly squeezing his hand before strolling out through the castle’s gates.

Now, as she walked aimlessly through the brightly lit streets, there was only one person on her mind...Kamilah. She’d overheard conversations about the gang relocating to Japan, to strengthen their base and form a stronger alliance with the Five. Of course that was Rheya’s first plan, to wipe them out but with quick thinking, Amy was able to hold her off.

But it wouldn’t last for long, and that’s why Amy was going to take Rheya, Demetrius and Lola out. But only with the help of her family.

Amy strode in through the doors of the famous club, the club where Amy had first seen Aiko. As she looked around, the familiar faces brought a warm sensation to heart. They were safe, her family was alive.

Small murmurs pulled Amy out of her thoughts, her gaze falling to each and every person in the room. Adrian was seated on a bar stool beside Lily, the pair speaking in hushed whispers as they gazed at Amy. Jax was sipping a glass of whiskey, Akeyo, Henry, Kano and The Evolved beside him.

Then, there was Kamilah. Seated comfortably in one of the cream sofas, Aiko nestled on her lap with a glass of wine in hand.

Amy felt a lump rise in her throat, her eyes threatening to give way to tears as she looked on. Kamilah hadn’t noticed Amy’s presence for she was too indulged in covering Aiko in gentle kisses. Kisses that only Amy was allowed to have, touches that Kamilah swore would only be placed upon Amy, now onto a new partner.

“Hello love, did you miss me?” Amy said with a smug smirk across her face, her gaze directed at Kamilah. The vampires looked up from their previous conversation, Kamilah’s eyes widening in disbelief. “I know I’m the last person you want to be speaking to, but I don’t care. I need your help and you guys are family, I know you wouldn’t give up on me.” She said, her head bowed slightly.

When Amy lifted her head, Kamilah was standing before her. The Egyptian’s features hadn’t differed from their usual breathtaking appearance. Her eyes never wavering from Amy’s as the two fell into a trance.

“It’s you...it’s really you Amy.” Kamilah hesitantly took a step forward before her arm was snatched back by Aiko.

“Why would we help you, traitor?” Aiko practically spitting out the words with a scowl across her face. Amy took in the remarks before replying, “I don’t think a useless mutt like you could have the brain capacity to help anyways.” She said while checking her fingernails.

Kamilah held Aiko back as the vampire lunged towards Amy, “You little bitch I swear I’ll get you one day!”

“Enough Aiko!” Kamilah’s eyes flashed a threatening maroon colour, forcing Aiko to back down and regain her composure.

“Fine, but this rotten piece of shit…” Aiko whispered harshly with her finger pointed at Amy’s face, “should’ve never shown her face here.”

As the Five assisted in dragging Aiko away, Kamilah refocused her attention back on Amy. “Let’s talk somewhere more private, shall we?” Lily led the four towards the back room, everyone standing at a distance from each other as an awkward silence filled the room.

Adrian was the first to speak as he set his glass down on the table…”Amy, you know we’d never turn our back on you but you have to understand, what you did 5 years ago isn’t something to be taken lightly.” His face was oddly calm and nonchalant, something that didn’t happen often with the CEO.

“You...you betrayed us…” Lily bowed her head as her voice cracked. Tears filled the vampire’s eyes as they slid down her cheeks.

“No, that’s what I’m trying to say. All this time, I’ve been with Rheya for the gang’s protection. It seems crazy, and twisted but..it’s not I swear.” Amy’s eyes pleaded innocently as she looked around the room.

“Everything you’ve ever known, all the memories you had and every single moment of tranquility, safety and warmth was left behind the second you agreed to join her Amy.” Kamilah spoke through gritted teeth. She swirled the wine in her glass, staring at the deep red liquid sloshing from side to side.

“Kamilah…” Amy felt the coldness in her heart melt away the moment she saw the pained expression on her lovers face. Kamilah’s deep, brown eyes glossed over as their memories washed over her, clear signs of pain reaking from the older CEO.

With a flick of her gaze, Kamilah stood and turned her attention to Amy. “If you’ll excuse us.” Jax, Adrian and Lily bowed their heads respectfully, leaving the two alone in silence.

“You’re not the same Amy I knew, not the Amy I fell in love with those years ago.” Kamilah took Amy’s hands into her own, holding them gently. “But, I can’t see you in this state. Not when Rheya’s controlling you like this, no. I’ll do everything in my power to help you Amy, whether you want me to or not.”

Kamilah searched Amy’s eyes looking for something, anything. Amy simply stood frozen like a statue, her gaze flicking between her lover’s deep brown orbs. With a sigh, the CEO withdrew her hands and tucked them away in her pockets. “The truth is...I still love you. All this time, I’ve still loved you. And perhaps you don’t feel the same Amy but, I’m willing to wait for you. Be it years, or centuries...I’ll always be there to support you.”

And with that, Kamilah left without another word leaving Amy to her thoughts.

“I don’t see why you have to help her.” Aiko speaking through a tense jaw, her arms folded as she paced around their bedroom. “Because she was once mine, Aiko. I can’t sit by and watch her deteriorate like this.” Kamilah said as she gazed through the window up at the bright moon in the sky.

Aiko huffed, gripping Kamilah’s collar as her gaze fell to the CEO’s lips. “I think I need to remind you of who you’re with now, no?” Her voice dropped an octave, Aiko’s tongue licking a path across Kamilah’s lower lip.

“No, not tonight Aiko.” Kamilah gently, but firmly pushed Aiko off with a sigh. “You still love her, don’t you?” Aiko’s eyes flashed with hurt as Kamilah nodded quietly.

“How could I not love her? I know that we were together before but...this can’t go on. Not anymore.” Kamilah offered a small smile, kissing Aiko’s knuckles ever so softly.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” Aiko scoffed before storming out of the room, mumbling curses under her breath. “I’ll get that little weasel, she’s gone.” Aiko harshly whispered before rushing out of the club.

Four weeks later….

Amy, Jax, Adrian and Kamilah all gathered round in the club, a stage brightly lit in the front with a microphone on a stand.

Amy jumped up the stage, excitedly gripping the mic and tapping the tip. “Testing, testing.” Her voice rang through the room, the other three gazing up at the woman on stage.

Without warning, music started blaring through the speakers, the floor pounding with the bass. Amy gripped the mic tighter and closed her eyes. A smooth, deep voice rang through the speakers and set the gang into a trance.

“What a badass.” Lily chuckled as she sipped the beer in her hand.

“You’re saying that to a woman whose come from a small town in Massachusetts, making it big in NYC and successfully taking down the biggest threat the shadow world has ever faced. I’d say that’s quite badass.” Kamilah smirked behind her glass, watching Amy with rapt attention.

Adrian laughed and fixed the liquor behind it’s replacing place on the shelf, “Nothing less than remarkable, if you ask me. She’s made such a big difference to so many people. To us, especially.”

They all nodded in agreement before Jax spoke up. “She’s sacrificed everything for us. Love, her family, her friends...let alone the only humanity inside her. All because that psycho Rheya can’t give up her lust for power.”

Just as Amy had started the song, she closed it on a high note as the bass from the speakers started to cease. She opened her eyes to see the gang gazing intensely at her, studying her as if she was a display in a museum.

“Well, this has been fun but...I’m ready to hit the hay.” Lily yawned and outstretched her arms, Jax laughing and slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Right behind ya.”

With Adrian and Kamilah not far on their heels, Amy felt her voice rising from her throat again. She had nothing on her mind but the lyrics spinning through her head, Kamilah the source behind them.

“My head's under water, but I'm breathing fine.

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind…”

Kamilah lingered at the threshold of the door, her ears peeking up as she listened to Amy’s strong voice.

“Cause all of me,

Loves all of you,

Love your curves and all your edges,

All your perfect imperfections.”

Amy poured her heart out into the words as her chest pounded with desire and longing for her lover and partner. She imagined Kamilah standing before her, her graceful smile and endless chestnut eyes staring right back into hers.

Kamilah flicked her gaze back to Amy once before walking away, a small smile spreading across her face as she hummed the lyrics. “Perhaps, she does still love me…” She whispered to herself quietly.

A few days later, Amy found herself in the terrace pool, her arms leaning back on the glass as she gazed at Kamilah in front of her. Those deep eyes gazed right through Amy, Amy so lost in them that she didn’t realize when Kamilah had gotten closer.

Kamilah’s breath tickled her neck, before the CEO lifted her head, purposely brushing her lips to Amy’s. “Will...you allow me to kiss you, Amy?” A hopeful look shone in her eyes, the same way the moonlight reflected off the pool and into her orbs.

Amy didn’t bother to respond, because she cupped Kamilah’s face...kissing her with every ounce of longing inside her body. Their lips crashed, Kamilah’s hands exploring Amy’s body as their tongues swirled around one another’s. They found a familiar rhythm, the moment feeling as if it was meant to be.

Not long after, Kamilah lifted the younger vampire out of the pool, wrapping Amy’s legs around her hips before she carried them inside for a well needed night full of passion, and desire.

—————————————-—

“It’s time.” Amy strapped her weapons to her hips before looking around at the rest of the group. “We either destroy Rheya and her crew now, or we live forever under her reign.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, finalizing the last of their plans and securing their weapons. Kamilah took Amy’s hands, resting her forehead to her own. “No matter what happens, I love you Amy.”

They both knew what happened last time those words were spoken, when everyone mourned Amy after her ‘death’. “I love you too Kamilah, I’ll always love you.” With a soft smile, Amy pecked Kamilah’s lips and turned to lead the way to Rheya’s mansion.

“Amy, you’ve retur-“ Rheya was thrown back against the wall, the plaster beneath her breaking and crumbling. Rheya cackled into the night before lifting herself into the air.

“Do you really think you and your pathetic crew can defeat me? The First?” As if on command, Gauis led a small army of ferals towards the four. “They’re not just my crew, they’re my family!” Amy lunged for Rheya, honing her senses and channeling her energy into the First’s mind.

Kamilah was one of the first to spring into action, instinctively toward Gaius. Their daggers clashed together, their faces inches apart as Kamilah wore a harsh frown, whereas Gaius had a smirk. “So we meet again, my Queen.” The sound of metal on metal filled the room as the battle continued, before Kamilah swept out his feet from underneath him. “I’m not your Queen, Gaius.” Her daggers hovered over his throat, “But, I will be the death of you.” Without hesitation, she slashed her daggers across his neck, beheading him instantly.

After that, the battle seemed to cease except for Amy and Rheya. “You took everything from me! My friends, my emotions, my humanity!”

Amy plunged her hand deep into Rheya’s chest, Rheya gasping through unable to move because of Amy’s control. She yanked the beating heart out of the vampires chest, blood dripping down her wrist. “And now I’ll take everything from you.”

Rheya lay lifeless, before crumbling to ash the same way Gaius had. Ferals ash covered the floors of the manor as the group reeled back from the attacks.

“Amy, you're alright…” The younger vampire collided with Kamilah, latching on for dear life. Kamilah tightened her hold and exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I love you Kamilah…”

“I love you too, My Queen.”

#choices kamilah #kamilah sayeed #Bloodbound

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

WIP #47

(Send me a number 1-60 [or a fandom/character I guess] for the corresponding wip) because I’m bored and brain-fried and have too many wips that’ll otherwise never see the light of day.

For @misssquidtracy who asked for “Number 47 - Thunderbirds (specifically da Gords)”. Luckily, this happens to be a Gordon PoV wip, so it’s all Gordon!

It’s also a Scott!whump, because it’s me and I’m terrible and I have way too many of these lying around, so watch out for that. There’s also a lot of this. Nearly 6k words, so enjoy :D

Gordon hated it when his squid sense started to tingle for no discernible reason. On a rescue, his squid sense was invaluable, warning him just in time that a building was about to topple, or that an aftershock was on its way. Lives had been saved by his mysterious power – hardly a power, more an instinct honed by too many years of military precision combined with a predisposition for pranks whilst living in a house with three older brothers. Alan joked about him being bitten by a squid, like that old superhero story about the guy and the spider.

It was easier to laugh it off than get into a debate with the astronaut about the biting habits – or lack thereof – of aquatic creatures his younger brother knew nothing more than the required basics about.

However, joking aside, Gordon’s sixth sense was particularly active, and while usually it was a life-saving boon, this time it was just a nuisance. He was at home, safe and comfortable in the clean water of the pool. He’d opted for lazy backstrokes, taking his time to reach from one end of the pool to the other before executing a neat flip to repeat the stroke back the way he’d come. None of his brothers were on missions, either. John was as ever up in Thunderbird Five, but from the far end of the pool he could see the holographic form of his brother just visible in the den. Alan was, last checked, also in the den – the two space mad brothers had decided to watch a documentary on, surprise, surprise, space, during what downtime they had – while Virgil had decided to do some maintenance on Thunderbird Two with Brains.

Scott was away on boring business, a stuffy CEO meeting that he couldn’t palm off onto the board of directors that were supposed to be handling that sort of thing for him, or even attend via hologram. They had insisted on a personal touch – literally – and as it was, apparently, a big deal, that meant Scott had to ditch the blues, send one last longing look at Thunderbird One, and let Kayo escort him in Tracy One to the meeting place.

The meeting had been due to start about an hour ago, if Gordon was getting his timezone calculations correct. Why Tracy Industries still had its headquarters in America, far too many hours behind Tracy Island, when there was a perfectly respectable landmass or two closer to home, he couldn’t quite fathom, but when he’d raised the point Scott and John had both fixed him with tired, don’t be an idiot looks, with just a hint of be glad you don’t have to deal with this nonsense to stop him from pestering further.

Kayo herself was who-knew-where, sneaking around in her sneaky Kayo way. He’d seen Tracy One return several hours ago, Kayo’s taxi service duties over until Scott called for her. Apparently, head of IR security did not equal anything in terms of Tracy Industries security, a fact that he knew grated on her. Still, she and Lady Penelope had run multiple background checks on all the men and women that made up Scott’s official security, and were as assured as they could be with Kayo not amongst their number that he was in good hands.

So if his squid sense could stop tingling randomly, that’d be great, thanks.

It didn’t, and annoyance turned to dread when the emergency signal went off, summoning them all to the lounge. A tingling squid sense, and an emergency? Gordon had a really bad feeling about that.

He made it to the den in record time, more damp than not with a beautiful trail of drips across the carpet that Grandma was going to murder him for later, and still in nothing but his swimming trunks. Alan made a face of disgust as he threw himself down onto the sofa next to him to face John. The documentary that the two astronauts had been watching was paused on what his old school lessons told him was a supernova eruption. The imagery of an explosion did nothing to help his jittery squid sense.

Virgil was last to join them, grease streaking up one sleeve and smearing onto the sofa he chose to sit on – at least he wasn’t the only one that would be facing the wrath of Grandma later.

“What have you got, John?” his eldest currently-home brother asked, looking far too laid back for Gordon’s liking. Not that there was anything wrong with it – Virgil still was far from relaxed, alert and ready for the briefing before launching himself down the slide of death – but Gordon found himself tense in comparison.

“A plane’s gone down in America,” John told them. “I intercepted a mayday call from the pilot; the GDF have already responded but it’s a bad one and they don’t have enough resources to get everyone out. Gear up; I’ll give you the details on the way.”

One of those, huh? Gordon flew towards the fish tank that housed his launch tube, slapping his palm against the hidden sensor and feeling the familiar downwards rush towards the hangars, splitting off from the route to Four and instead making a beeline for Two. He met Alan on the platform, his youngest brother jittering excitedly as always, just in time for Virgil to retract it, bringing them up into the cockpit.

Co-pilot was his chair, and the only person annoying enough to turf him out of it on ‘superiority’ grounds was Scott. Even Kayo knew better than to steal his chair, so Alan settled happily enough into the navigation chair behind Virgil, pulling up the screens ready for John to transmit the data straight though.

“You alright?” Virgil asked him as the hangar door rolled down, revealing rows of palm trees ready to bow in homage to the green beast.

“My squid sense is going haywire,” he admitted, no point in lying. Not on a mission. He expected John to scoff – his second eldest brother always slightly more dismissive of it than the rest of them. After all, there was no scientific explanation. All joking about fish and gills aside, Gordon was one hundred percent human. John didn’t scoff, and that made his squid sense reach an uncomfortable level. In fact, John didn’t say anything at all, his hologram not paying them any attention at all as he fiddled with something invisible up on Five.

“Well, it’s a plane crash,” Alan pointed out, his voice somewhat subdued. Virgil made a noise of agreement as Two’s engines roared to life behind them, punching them into the air. She was no rocket, but Thunderbird Two could still produce a decent amount of Gs. Gordon wished that was it, but the tingle had started before John briefed them.

“Guys,” John finally said, once Two was cruising at full speed towards America. “I’ve got hold of the flight details for the plane. It wasn’t easy; turns out it was a top-secret flight even the GDF didn’t know about.”

“That sounds ominous,” Virgil observed.

“It gets worse.” John’s face was grim. Really grim. Bearer of terrible news grim. “It was a private flight chartered for a top secret business meeting between the biggest aerospace companies in the world. Four CEOs were on board, including-” his voice broke in a very un-John-like manner, and Gordon’s stomach dropped.

“Don’t say it,” Alan begged. In front of him, Virgil’s knuckles were white on the yoke, Thunderbird Two’s engines whining as they went just that little bit faster.

“Including Scott,” John finished, visibly pulling himself back together. “In total there were thirty people on board, including the pilots. The reports from the GDF so far say that the rear of the plane is trashed but the cause isn’t yet clear. Two bodies have been recovered so far – neither of them Scott – but they can’t get into the main body of the plane. Scans suggest that approximately half of them survived the initial crash. I’m picking up fourteen life signs; two of them in the cockpit area so they’re most likely the pilots.”

“Scott’s communicator?” Virgil asked as sea gave way to land beneath them, the American coast looking unfairly beautiful.

“I’m not getting a response,” John admitted. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Anything from the telemetry?” Alan was tapping away at the screen by his chair, clearly manipulating the data John was sending him. Gordon envied him the distraction.

“It’s offline,” John sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Seems like it was damaged in the crash. EOS is attempting to reconnect but no luck so far.”

“Do you have any good news for us, Johnny?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Colonel Casey is one of the GDF officers at the scene,” John offered, notably not rising to the bait. Well, Gordon supposed that was better than random officers, or worse, the ones that weren’t overly fond of International Rescue and didn’t fully co-operate. “Kayo’s just launched in Thunderbird Shadow for the airport they took off from. Lady Penelope is also on the way; she and Parker are already making enquiries to find out what happened.”

“They think sabotage?” Virgil asked.

“The CEOs of the four most powerful aerospace industries in the world were on that plane,” John pointed out. “It’s suspicious, at least.”

“Do you think it’s the Hood?” Gordon sent Alan a withering look. Not everything was the Hood’s fault, even if it felt like it.

“I don’t know, Alan,” John said. “Kayo thinks it isn’t his style. He’d have been looking to get money from them, not kill them.”

“He killed Dad.”

Gordon flinched. He wasn’t the only one.

“No-one said Scott’s dead,” Virgil said, voice steady even though Gordon couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so tense.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Alan asked. “I mean, it’s Scott. If anyone can walk away from a plane crash, it’d be Scott, right?”

“Let’s hope,” John replied.

The co-ordinates John had programmed into Thunderbird Two’s navigation system flashed up, warning that they were on final approach. Slowed to subsonic, they came to a hover alongside a GDF flier and got their first glimpse of the downed plane. It wasn’t pretty.

The final third of the plane no longer resembled the tail of anything remotely flight-worthy. Twisted and warped metal was crumpled and torn ragged. Men and women in GDF uniforms were hovering around the area, large lasers deployed to slice their way in. Gordon knew instantly that no-one who had been in that part of the plane could possibly have survived.

At the other end of the plane, the nose was also crumpled but not as far back as the cockpit windows. It looked as though whatever had downed the plane had occurred at the back, with the damage to the nose only made by the impact of the crash. More GDF were swarming the cockpit windows, cutting their way in with infinite more care than their counterparts were cleaving the rear.

The area of most interest to them was the middle third. While not the complete write-off of the rear, massive dents and warps in the metal warned of a serious crash. Any survivors would be in that area, but the condition of said survivors was unknown. All of the emergency exits were untouched; from a distance, Gordon couldn’t tell if they were wedged shut by warped metal, or if there was another reason that none of them had been opened.

“International Rescue!” Colonel Casey flagged them down, guiding them towards a space just large enough for Thunderbird Two to land. “You boys are a sight for sore eyes,” she greeted. “The fuselage is too thick for our lasers to get through without endangering the survivors inside. We’ve got the pilots under control, but we haven’t been able to make contact with any of the passengers.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil answered her. “We’ll get them out. John said fourteen life signs?”

“Affirmative,” she said. “We have visual on both pilots. The other twelve are randomly positioned within the front half of the plane.”

“We’ll get them out,” Virgil assured her, and ended the call. “Gordon, Alan, get as much cutting gear and first aid supplies as you can carry.”

“You didn’t mention Scott,” Gordon observed, and he sighed.

“No point worrying her. You two know we have to treat him the same as the rest?”

Alan frowned.

“But couldn’t he help us?”

“If he’s fit to help, then that’s one thing,” Virgil told them. “But I don’t like that none of the doors are open. Don’t get your hopes up; this is a nasty crash.”

“Come on,” Gordon muttered, grabbing Alan’s arm and tugging him towards the module. “Faster we get in there, the faster we’ll find him.”

“I know that much!” Alan grumbled, yanking his arm back. “I can walk by myself, Gordon!” He stalked off ahead. Gordon let him, hearing Virgil catch up with him from behind.

“You don’t think Scott’s okay,” he said, quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“If he was, he’d have got word out somehow by now,” Virgil replied. “Even if his communicator’s broken, there are GDF swarming the place. He’d only need to catch their attention through a window.” He made a beeline straight for his exosuit, pulling on the heavy gear with the ease of practice and charging out of the lowering module door. Gordon collected their last hand-held cutter and shouldered a medical pack before following alongside Alan, who was kitted out the same.

Virgil’s shoulder laser was powerful and made short work of the fuselage that the GDF had been too reluctant to touch. A wrench with the claw arm and a thick wodge of metal slammed down on the ground in front of him. The opening wasn’t huge, too small for Virgil with his suit to fit through comfortably, but it was the largest they’d been willing to risk with the unknown structural integrity of the fuselage. Gordon slipped through first, hand laser in hand for any further obstacles, and let out a shaky breath.

“Woah,” he muttered, pulling his helmet on. The air was murky, dust kicked up and swarming around from the warped metal. None of the seats were upright; sheered metal struts protruded from where they should have been, in a circle around what was once a table. That had broken in two, the far end buried under the start of the truly warped area. “Hello? International Rescue!”

Silence.

Alongside personal effects and broken pieces of aircraft, the floor was strewn with bodies. Some were obviously dead, impaled by shrapnel made from the very plane that should have been protecting them. One in particular was grotesque, a metal strut that had once supported a chair stuck straight through his chest from where he’d been thrown on top of it. Gordon recognised him as part of Scott’s security detail and had to fight to hold back the bile.

Scott. Where was Scott?

Despite Virgil’s words, he wasted a moment looking around the scene, but there was no sign of his eldest brother. Unable to justify hunting for him before checking for signs of life in those immediately visible, he crouched down by the nearest person not obviously dead and checked their pulse. It was weak but there.

“Woah!” Alan mimicked his own reaction upon entering. “What a mess.”

“Alan, I’ve got a survivor here!” Gordon called him over immediately. “Mind your step.” His youngest brother picked his way over to him. “Find a way to get him out. I’ll look for more.”

“Have you found Scott yet?” he asked, kneeling down and opening his med kit. Gordon shook his head.

“No sign. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” Alan nodded, and Gordon continued his search. It was a grim one. He’d suspected as such when no-one had responded to his call, but even when he found a warm body, they were unconscious. Virgil joined him, exosuit stripped off and replaced with more medical kits and a small group of GDF personnel courtesy of Colonel Casey. Between them, it was a far more manageable task to carefully remove the survivors from the wreckage. Those pronounced as dead were left for the moment as John’s countdown of life signs inside the remains of the plane slowly ticked down.

All in all, they’d so far found eighteen of the twenty eight passengers, including the dead pulled from the ruined tail section. Ten to go, two of which were still alive according to Thunderbird Five’s scans. One of the ten was Scott. Gordon felt cruel when he found another breathing body and mentally cursed her for not being Scott. It wasn’t her fault; she was lucky to be alive herself, torso contorted in a way he knew meant a broken back. He should be relieved to find any survivors at all, not cursing them for not being the one he wanted to be alive.

He flagged her up to one of the closest medics and moved on. It was almost too dark to see at the back of the plane, up against the crushed wreckage. His toe snapped on something soft and he tripped. Landing in a crouch, he turned around to face the obstruction. A dead body. He didn’t even need to check the young man’s pulse; the poor guy had been caught in the mangled metal and torn in half. His face was twisted in pain and terror, blue eyes wide and glassy with death. It wasn’t Scott, but Gordon knew he’d be seeing those eyes in his nightmares nonetheless.

Turning back around, he moved to stand before realising he was by part of the fallen table. Various limbs had been protruding from beneath the large slab at intervals during Gordon’s search, but here there was a gap. A seat, wedged beneath it, had left part of the table at an angle. It was too dark to see into it, so Gordon palmed a glowstick and snapped it, illuminating the area in an eerie green. Immediately the silhouette of a body greeted his eyes. Mindful of additional shrapnel, he reached in carefully, fumbling until he found their wrist.

Thump… thump…

Slow, but there. At the same time, a GDF woman called in another survivor. One more than expected.

“Virgil!” he called. “I’ve got someone under the table with a pulse. Going to need some heavy lifting to get them out!”

“F.A.B.” his brother replied. He raised the glowstick above his head with the hand not measuring the pulse and waved it around. “I see you.” A moment later, Virgil and a trio of GDF officers appeared. “How much of this are we going to need to shift?” he asked. Gordon shrugged.

“I can’t see. Got a silhouette but not much more. Give me your torch.” He dropped the glowstick and kept his hand open for Virgil’s gear. It landed in his hand and he carefully manoeuvred it down before turning it on.

A once sharp grey suit was covered in dust, but that wasn’t what caught Gordon’s breath in his throat. It was the dark brown hair, and the broken but unmistakable International Rescue communicator on his forearm, less than an inch from Gordon’s fingers on the slow pulse, that made him gasp.

“Gord-?”

“It’s Scott.” He cut Virgil’s query off. Behind him, the GDF murmured in surprise.

Virgil didn’t ask anything more. Gordon stayed where he was, watching the limp form of his eldest brother with a lump in his throat as they moved around him. His fingers didn’t budge from the pulse, a fear gripping him that if he stopped measuring it, it would stop altogether. Orders barked and a concert of groans resulted in a large part of the broken table slab being cut up and lifted, letting what pitiful light had reached so far back into the cabin illuminate Scott’s body.

It wasn’t good. Blood matted his hair, a mark of something striking him in the crash. One leg was twisted almost completely around, a dislocated hip at best, and more blood stained his arm.

Virgil took charge, nudging Gordon out of the way. He went willingly only because out of everyone in the world, he only trusted Virgil or Grandma to handle his brother in such a broken state. He tapped his communicator.

“John, Alan?”

Both answered immediately, eager for news. Inwardly he was glad not to be the bearer of tragic news, not sure he could have managed it.

“Found him; he’s alive.”

“How is he?” Alan demanded over John’s sigh of relief. Gordon winced.

“Alive,” he repeated. “Virgil’s got him. It’s too dark back here to tell past that.” That was a bare faced lie; even as he spoke he could see Virgil attaching the medical scanner to him, still glowing glow stick highlighting the frown on his face. Neither brother called him out on it.

“I’ll update the others,” John said instead. “Keep looking for survivors; you’re on one more than our scans showed. There might be more.”

“F.A.B.” He ended the call. “Virgil?”

“All in hand,” his older brother said shortly. “Keep looking.”

“Yessir.”

Seven dead bodies later, all thirty crew and passengers were accounted for. He exited the craft, removing his now filthy helmet, only to almost collide with Colonel Casey.

“You knew Scott was on board the flight,” she said without greeting. Her face was displeased, and he figured he was the first Tracy she’d managed to collar.

“Of course we did,” he confirmed. “But that didn’t change how we operated.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He glanced back at the corpse of the plane, where Virgil was still inside with Scott, carefully transferring him to a hoverstretcher, last Gordon had seen.

“Because it didn’t change anything,” he repeated. “Excuse me, Colonel, but my job isn’t over yet.”

He didn’t wait to be dismissed, heading towards Thunderbird Two’s open module to prep it for Scott’s transport. The GDF might be taking the other injured to hospitals, but there was only one craft their brother would be travelling in, and that was their own. He wasn’t naïve; Scott’s injuries were bad, beyond anything Grandma and Virgil could handle at home. John and Kayo were already working to locate a hospital both capable of treating him, and with enough security that he would be safe from ill-wishers during his recovery.

None of them were convinced this was a simple accident. Not with so many high profile individuals on board. The Hood aside, there were many people that stood to gain from the deaths of the four CEOs. Lady Penelope was already digging into the employees from the other three companies who stood to benefit from the deaths. Regretfully, the only CEO still with a pulse was Scott. All four of them had been towards the back of the cabin, all bar Scott caught up in the twisted metal that was the final third of the plane.

Scott had been lucky, for all that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Gordon wasn’t a medical professional, but Virgil’s face told him that much.

“The medical carrier is ready to leave,” Colonel Casey told him. He assumed she’d followed him to Thunderbird Two, although had at least refrained from entering uninvited. “As soon as Scott is on board, they’ll be on their way.”

“They can leave now,” Gordon retorted. “We’ll handle Scott.”

“I know you are concerned, but this crash is a GDF investigation,” she told him. “All casualties fall under GDF jurisdiction.”

Gordon was shorter than her – the only one of his brothers bar the still-growing Alan with that distinction – but inside the module bay he could still look down at her.

“Scott is International Rescue jurisdiction,” he corrected her. “And as the CEO of the family business, also Tracy jurisdiction. He’ll be treated at a location approved by us, not the GDF, and if the GDF have an issue with that, they can take that up with our head of security.”

“And your other employees?” she challenged. Gordon pushed away the memory of a man impaled by a seat strut.

“None of them survived.” He turned his back on her, readying the finishing touches.

“I’m sorry for your losses,” she said, and he heard her walk away. He’d barely known them, the six men and women wearing Tracy Industries logos, but Scott had. John, too, and Kayo had hand-picked the four members of security.

Alan appeared beside him, putting away what remained of the medical supplies he’d taken out earlier and locking the hand-held laser back where it belonged.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked, and Gordon shrugged, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Do you think this was sabotage?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would anyone do this?”

Gordon sighed.

“It might have just been an accident,” he reminded him, even if he doubted his own words. Alan looked equally unconvinced. “Come on, let’s get her ready to go.”

“F.A.B.,” Alan said quietly, and they headed out towards the loading platform, only to be brought up short at the sight of Virgil approaching them, hoverstretcher alongside. Immediately they got out of the way, letting their older brother brush past and secure the stretcher to the wall.

“Gordon, pilot,” he said. “John and Kayo found us a New Zealand hospital. It’s a fair distance, but it’s secure. Scott should hold on long enough to get there as long as you don’t dawdle.”

“F.A.B.” Gordon wasn’t a fan of the implication that Scott might not, but had no choice but to trust Virgil as he jabbed the button to raise the platform. Alan stayed behind – understandable, as he hadn’t seen yet seen their eldest brother – but Gordon didn’t say anything. He could pilot Two solo.

There were many words that could be used to describe the speed they left the crash site and headed for the other side of the world at, but ‘dawdle’ was not one of them. She was no rocket like One or Three, but Two was still one of the fastest planes in the world, and Gordon was determined to get as much speed out of her as he dared. Virgil could take her faster, another Mach at least, but he wasn’t Virgil and didn’t trust himself to keep her flight smooth at top speed. He just hoped it would be fast enough.

About halfway there, somewhere over the large expanse of water that Gordon would much rather be in than over, Virgil contacted him, a hologram flickering into life in his periphery.

“If I send Alan up, will you go faster?” he asked. Gordon’s heart sank.

“Is he getting worse?” Please no, please not Scott.

“I’ve got him stable,” Virgil reassured him. “But he’s still critical. The sooner we get him to the hospital the happier I’ll be.”

“More speed coming up,” he confirmed, reaching for the throttle. “Uh, yeah, send Alan up, would you?” He could probably do with a co-pilot if he went any faster.

“Sure thing,” Virgil agreed. “He’s on his way.”

Sure enough, no sooner than his older brother ended the connection, the door opened and Alan stumbled through it, all but collapsing into the co-pilot’s chair.

“He hasn’t woken up,” the astronaut offered as he reached forwards to power up the co-pilot controls. As soon as the second set of lights lit up, Gordon accelerated the craft towards top speed. “Virgil’s worried about the head injury.”

Gordon grit his teeth, remembering the red matted into the brown under the powerful beam of Virgil’s torch.

“Head injuries are tricky,” he agreed. “But Virgil knows what he’s going, and John’s found a hospital that specialises in them.”

“I know,” Alan replied quietly. “That’s what worries me. They’re not telling us something.”

“The hazards of being the youngest,” Gordon groaned, unsurprised but as annoyed as Alan about it. Scott was their brother too, dammit. “So, what are they not telling us?”

“Have you seen the results of the scan?” Alan asked him. Gordon shook his head.

“Nah, had to leave to look for other survivors once Virgil was dealing with him, and haven’t seen him since.” Five seconds of hoverstretcher rushing past didn’t really count. “What came up?”

“No idea,” Alan sulked. “Virgil’s been keeping it out of my sight all journey. But I know John knows.”

Gordon growled and slammed the comm button.

“John, Virgil, I want the result of those scans,” he demanded.

“You’re piloting,” Virgil responded immediately. “No reading while you’re controlling my ‘bird.”

“Then summarise for me,” he retorted. “Starting with that head injury.”

“Just get us to the hospital,” Virgil ordered.

“Already doing that,” he ground out, hackles rising. “Stop trying to keep us in the dark! He’s our brother too!” Thunderbird Two lurched under his grip before Alan hastily stabilised them.

“What are you doing up there?” Virgil demanded. “Be careful!”

“Letting my imagination fill in the blanks,” he lied – he was, in fact, keeping his imagination carefully blank.

“Is it that bad?” Alan interrupted before Virgil could find a fresh retort. “Is he dying?”

Silence filled the cabin, and Gordon’s temper flared.

“You said he was stable!” he yelled. “Dammit, Virgil, don’t lie to me about that!”

“I said critical but stable,” Virgil corrected. “He is stable, Gordo, but…” He trailed off, and Gordon glanced over at Alan to see his own growing panic mirrored back at him in blue eyes.

“He’s comatose,” John said quietly.

“What?” Alan yelped. Gordon stiffened, hands threatening to crush the yoke in his hands before he forcibly relaxed them.

“You didn’t think I might like to know that?” he growled, flashes of hospitals and white coats and bodiless voices stirring in the back of his mind before he trampled them down ruthlessly. Not now. Silence answered him. Clearly both his conscious older brothers knew they were in the wrong, and that whatever nonsense they fed him about not wanting to distract him while he was piloting wouldn’t pacify him in the slightest.

Alan’s face had gone white, big blue eyes focused on him, and he knew his younger brother was remembering the last time he’d had a family member in a coma – him. He forced a smile for his benefit, which had about as much of an effect as any pacifying words John or Virgil might have tried to use.

“Why?” Alan asked, voice shaking. “Who would do that?”

“Kayo and Lady Penelope are looking into it,” John told them. “Whatever happened, they’ll find out. I’ve got EOS doing some digging of her own, too.”

“But… is Scott going to be okay?” Alan pleaded, looking back at Gordon, who was clearly the resident expert on comas. He remembered the fight for consciousness, pleading voices turning to resigned ones as they talked about their day yet again. He remembered wanting to respond so badly but being trapped by his own body.

The idea of Scott going through that filled him with dread – if he even did. Comas were different for different people, he’d found out later, when he’d torn through everything he could get his hands on in a desperate attempt to understand what had happened to him. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, except maybe the Hood but then even only in his blackest moods. Scott had done nothing to deserve that.

“He’s a fighter,” was all he could say.

The hospital staff were ready and waiting for them when they finally arrived, a two hour flight that had felt far longer. No sooner had he touched down and opened the module than they were swarming, hurrying Scott inside with Virgil hot on their heels, presumably talking doctor-speak and filling in anything they hadn’t already been briefed about.

Gordon and Alan were left in Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, watching out of the windows as their elder brothers vanished into the maw of the hospital.

“Do we follow them?” Alan asked after a moment. Gordon looked at the doors with no small amount of dread, and shook his head.

“They won’t be allowing visitors just yet,” he said. “Virgil will have a fight to stay with him, and he’s our medic. We’ll just get shoved in a waiting room with sympathetic looks and no news.”

At least, that was the stories he’d heard from his brothers, regarding his own accident. International Rescue might have more weight than merely the Tracy name had back then, but a patient was a patient.

“Come home,” John said, popping up from the dashboard and looking them both over. He looked tired, too, and Gordon wondered how much worse it was for him, stuck up in space and fully reliant on holograms to see Scott. At least the rest of them had been able to see – and touch – him. It didn’t take much for Gordon to recall the thump-thump of a faint pulse beneath his fingers as he clung to the sign that he hadn’t lost anyone else.

Not yet, a nasty voice whispered in the back of his mind. He silenced it sharply.

“But-” Alan protested, clinging to the edges of his seat as though it was the hoverstretcher carrying Scott’s limp body.

“Come home and get cleaned up,” John said firmly, reminding Gordon that he’d spent several hours in a wrecked plane with dead bodies. It was hidden slightly better on Alan’s uniform, but a glance at his own showed red drying into brown on his yellow baldric. “By the time we get back there, they might have news for us.”

“We?” Gordon locked onto, and John crossed his arms.

“I’m not staying up here waiting for news to trickle in,” he snapped, and Gordon raised his hands in surrender.

“Never said you were, big bro,” he soothed.

“What about the investigation?” Alan asked, even as he started flicking switches and preparing the massive craft for lift off once more.

“I’ve got EOS on that,” John replied. Following Alan’s lead, Gordon took control of the massive Thunderbird again, her VTOLs roaring as they peeled away from their landing spot back into the sky. “I’ll let Virgil know where you are once he gets in contact.”

“F.A.B.,” Gordon acknowledged.

He pretended it didn’t hurt to turn their back on the hospital where Scott lay comatose, but even if it fooled his brothers (doubtful), he couldn’t fool himself.

...tbc..?

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #wip excerpt #gordon tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #colonel casey #thunderwhump #thunderangst

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mazzy-moon · 3 years ago

Text

A Lone Butterfly - Chapter 8

Title of Chapter: An Eye For An Eye

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings/Tags: Death, Blood, Violence, Swearing, Grief, Non-gratuitous descriptions of gore, references to kidnapping

Pairing: Javier Peña (Narcos) x Isabel Cotrille (OFC)

Summary: A year has passed since Isabel was kidnapped and rescued by Javier. Despite establishing her new life thousands of miles away from Columbia, her past follows her.

Notes: This is a rough one, but I promise things will get warm, fuzzy, and sexy in the not too distant future. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read my story. Love you. x

Find this chapter on ao3

ONE YEAR LATER

The sand squishes between my toes as I take my daily run along Cannon Beach. It's cold today. I wonder what the weather is like in Columbia right now. Warm as always, I'm sure. I pass the huge coastal rock jutting out from the water, my signal that I'm nearly back to my condo.

I throw the door open once I get there. Despite the cold I'm drenched in sweat. I reach my desk and read Javier's letter for the millionth time. He asks me about my life here, and how it's treating me. He tells me Columbia misses me, and that he does too. My heart warms. Before I jump in the shower, I decide to quickly write him a response. At the bottom, I include an inside joke from a conversation that seems decades ago now.

'P.S. - Don't go punching any strangers while I'm gone. Love, Isabel.'

I miss Javier. Miss him so much it hurts. Our brief time together forged a bond between us I can't comprehend. I've spent many nights thinking of the kiss we shared. How his hands roamed over my body. It still gives me chills.

Even though he's not here, the memories continue to help me heal from the pain of my past.

It's been nearly a year since I boarded the plane from Columbia. Javier had been right. Moving back here was the best thing for me. I've felt more myself than I have in a long time.

My best friend, Melody, has been great. She's put her social life on hold to be there for me in any way she can. We've spent countless nights making hit or miss dinners and watching tooth rotting rom coms. She also referred me to a counselor the first week I got here, which has helped me in immeasurable ways. It's made me face my trauma, but also helped me cope with it.

Slowly, but surely, the empty piece of myself is filling back up. I still get nightmares, though, and I hate walking the streets by myself, especially at night. I'm wary of strange men, and I never go anywhere without pepper spray. I still miss my mother terribly. And my father. Remembering Columbia brings joy and pain.

There are good days and bad days, but I now have a hope for my future that wasn't there a year ago.

I wrap up a mug to send to Javier along with my letter. I've taken up pottery in the past months and it has been one of the many things to help me cope. I wonder what he'll think of the blue and gold painted creation.

The phone rings. It's Melody.

"Are you down for grabbing some Mexican tonight? There's a new place that just opened up downtown I've been wanting to try. Maybe we could catch a late movie afterwards?"

It was a Friday and I had no plans for the evening.

"Sounds fun, let's do it."

"Awesome! There is one thing though. I just put my car in the shop, is there anyway you could swing my place before?"

"Yeah, that should work. I'll pick you up around six."

"You're the best. See you then. Love ya."

"You too."

We say goodbye.

Later, I get ready for the night. Pulling a powder blue blouse over my head, I glance down at my bedside clock. I have a few minutes before I go to pick up Melody. I grab my keys, purse, and phone before heading out. I run back in, having forgotten Melody's gift. She went out of town for her birthday last week so I never had a chance to give her the gift I made. The intricate cake stand took hours, but I know she'll enjoy using it at her bakery. There's no bag, but it's too late to worry about now. I place it in the passenger seat and head out.

It's nearly dark when I get there. I hate driving to her place. It's cradled in between dense woods on either side and completely devoid of neighbors. I groan as my car reaches the dirt road leading up to her cabin. The looming trees extinguish most of the sun's fading light. As I reach the end of the drive way, I pull out my phone to tell her I'm here. I wait a few minutes but no answer. I'll just go up to the door.

I grab her present from the front seat and step out of my car. The damp earth cakes the bottom of my shoe as I tread up to the entrance of Melody's house. I knock, but she doesn't come. The lights are on, and I can hear music coming from inside. She must not hear me.

I twist the knob. It's unlocked. The minute I step inside I know something is off. Nothing seems to be out of place, but the atmosphere settles around me in a disquieting way.

"Melody, I'm here!" I yell towards the towards the top of the stairs.

Still nothing.

Something is wrong. I'm scared to go upstairs, but I do it anyway. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. The panicky feeling I haven't had in a while creeps back in.

I hear the cake stand fall from my arms and shatter to a million pieces when I reach the top.

The lower half of Melody's body lies in front of me. The rest is hidden by the half closed bedroom door. I rush towards her, praying she's alive.

She's bleeding. It's everywhere.

"Melody! Melody!" My heart threatens to burst out of my chest. "Can you hear me, Melody? Answer me!"

She lies still. Somewhere deep down I know my friend is gone. As soon as my gaze shifts to her face I involuntarily fling myself from her.

A shard of glass sticks out from one eye. Everything is such a mess I didn't notice it at first. I sob loudly, barely recognizing my own voice. Slowly, I shift onto my knees towards her. I reach out for her hand, noticing the scrap of paper clutched in its grasp. I unfold the scrap between sobs.

Ojo por ojo.

An eye for an eye. The phrase has been written in blood.

I run down the stairs and back to my car as fast as my body will allow me. I yank my phone from my purse and dial the police.

It doesn't all set in until after the police have rolled her body away, pronouncing her dead at the scene. They ask me all the normal questions and I robotically answer. I'm a million miles away. They ask me about the note then. I tell them I knew it's meaning the moment I read it. I explain to them everything that happened in Columbia. Their next step is to contact Officer Santiago to fill him in on the situation and decide on how to proceed.

I don't go home that night. They assign me to the Witness Protection Program and place me under guard in a remote location an hour away.

As I'm sitting at the tiny home's kitchen table, my phone buzzes. I recognize the number and pick up on the first ring.

"Javi," my voice is shaky and barely there.

"Isabel, I just heard what happened. Are you safe?"

"I'm f- fine. I'm in the middle of nowhere, but there's guards with me."

He pauses and I hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

"Fuck, Isabel. I'm- I'm sorry this is happening."

"It's not your fault."

"It is. We should've caught these guys by now. The fact that they left the country and weren't even on our radar- this is a fucking mess."

I try to hide my cries but he must sense it anyway. Something about hearing his voice after everything that's happened makes me finally let go.

"Shh. Don't cry. Listen, I'm gonna come up there. I can get on a plane within a couple days."

"No, Javier, you can't do that."

"They traveled countries to get to you, Isabel. I have to-"

"No, you can't do anything from here. The police are taking care of me, Javi. I'll be okay. I can't keep you from doing what you can to catch them."

We go back and forth but he finally decides to stay in Columbia as long as I update him each day. We say our goodbyes, and I almost beg him to come to me. I crave his arms. But I can't bring myself to be that selfish.

Being cooped up in the hide out cabin reminds me of my boredom back at the hospital in Columbia. I'm not allowed to leave and there's little to do here. I have endless amounts of books though. I skip the murder mysteries, preferring to drown myself in the pile of vintage romance novels tucked away in a rusty cabinet. Melody would have loved these books. She was a sucker for this stuff.

I've had to stop myself from picking up the phone to call her more times than I can count. It may not be medically possible, but I swear my heart physically aches at the thought of my best friend. I'd known her my entire life. I couldn't imagine life without her. I couldn't have imagined life without my mother and father either, but here I am. Life was cruel thing, hungry for peace and stealing it when you least expect.

After several days spent in solitude at the hide out, one of my guards informs me we are taking a trip back to the station. I ask what for, but am given no answer.

Once there, I'm informed I am to go back to Columbia. Javier's task force has caught Matías. I am the only one that can positively identify him.

I grip the seat beneath me.

It seems Columbia is not done with me yet.

#javier pena #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fic #a lone butterfly series #javier peña

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scarletbluebird13 · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Could I request some general MK fluff headcanons?

*Screams into the void* Nonnie, I’m so very sorry this took a v e r y long time for me to do for you -- I hope you can forgive me. So, without further adieu, here’s your request - I sincerely hope it’s to your liking and my apologies if the wait was most certainly not worth it. To you and the other people who requested: I’m so sorry for the long wait and if I made you feel ignored. Thank you so much for your patience, I really do appreciate it. <3

PSA: I’d gotten this request *quite* a while ago and had begun working on it that week. At the time, Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night” had not been released. I’d begun working on this December 4, 2020. To this day (March 14, 2021) I’ve yet to read Kazuomi’s “Lover Occultus - First Night.” (i’m well aware I’m a horrible writer and mk fan - sue me)

for what it was worth, it was worth all the while

Kazuomi:

It’s just another wednesday night

Except it’s not

Kazuomi being - well, Kazuomi - decided to take you on a trip

It was, like everything else he does, spontaneous

All you did to get swept up in this madness was become someone important to him

If you hadn’t walked into his office when you had, he was going to personally go to your apartment and drag you out of there

So really, you saved him the trip

When he told you he was taking you on a trip, you were confused

“When?”

“Now”

You not having a suitcase packed or anything wasn’t an issue

Kazuomi had a bunch of stuff in the closet for you

Of course, it wouldn’t be kazuomi if a little bet was involved

You really wanted to know where you were going

But he refused to say

SO the second the words “How about a bet?” fell from your lips,

Never one to stray from wagers, he stopped what he was doing, and smirking a bit, looked slightly over his shoulder, waiting for you to continue

“I get to ask you three - and only three - questions about where it is we’re headed. You have to answer truthfully, and I can’t outright ask you where it is we’re going. After I’ve asked the questions, I get one shot at guessing where we’re going. If I win, you have to watch a Tom Cruise movie with me and you’ve got to actually pay attention to the movie.”

“What if you lose?”

“Choose your prize.”

“Oho, I get to choose?”

“I’m going to regret this later, but yes, you can choose.”

“I want to see a picture of you when you were little - the most recent one you have on your phone.”

You grumbled, but agreed.

Aaaand, of course, Lady Luck was on Kazuomi’s side again (although, when is she not?)

So you had to start digging through your phone looking for a picture.

That bastard had the biggest smirk on his face

He teased you the whole flight, wondering what kind of picture he’d get to see

Finally, after what seemed like 50 hours (more like 12 hours, to be exact), the private plane landed

Well, you’d never guessed here, of all the other places Kazuomi could’ve taken you.

You were in Mexico.

Kazuomi’d taken you to the country his adoptive father would bring him to on vacations.

Your heart felt a twinge of pain, but mostly, you melted at the fact that Kazuomi’d want to bring you somewhere so close to his past - to him.

The rest of the day (since the time and flight did a number on the both of you) you’d headed to a hotel together, opting to get some rest before exploring

But Kazuomi woke you up

It was dark out, and you were still a bit tired

But he had that boyish look in his eye

And you knew you couldn’t go back to sleep then - not when he got excited like this

Not that you’d ever tell him, but you thought this boyish side to him was adorable

He got you out of bed, and asked you to follow him

“Not like I could go back to sleep anyway” was your response

“I want to show you something”

He led you to the rooftop,

Mexico City’s lights glistening below the both of you

The rich smell (and sounds) of street vendors selling elotes and carne asada to passersby filled your senses

Curiously, you looked down and admired the world beneath your feet

“Lay down”

You turned around and found Kazuomi laying on his back, eyes looking to the celestial world above you rather than the glittering one below

Following his lead, you let yourself down beside him, still wondering why Mexico of all places, and why bring you here -- and why did he wake you up

He wrapped one arm around you, and as if reading your mind, said

“I didn’t have a lot growing up. Everyday, before I met my adoptive father, I was on the streets - not knowing if I’d live to see the next day. But then one day, that changed. I was adopted, and lived out a grand life with him. I never again had to worry about living to the next day - which, before my time on the streets, was something I took for granted.”

“I’m lucky to have someone by my side - you. I get to bring you to these places - the ones where I visited on holidays. During a time when I was safe again - where it wasn’t me against the world or the elements.”

“I mean, yeah, it was bad - but there was some semblance of hope.”

“In my mind, back then, the world I knew was cruel and dark. Hateful. Corrupt. Sinister. Cold. Unforgiving. Merciless. The days were hard, but the nights were harder. Then again, the nights weren’t so bad. That’s because when I thought all the world was bleak, I’d lay down, get ready to sleep - but when I did, I always saw the stars. They’re always in clusters. Never alone. They shine, and give off so much light - they’re beautiful.”

“When I thought all the world was bleak, the stars proved me wrong. They’re proof that even when things get bad, when everything seems dark, there’s a glimmer of home somewhere out there. And I want to believe that because they’re always in clusters they’re never really alone - and we’re never really alone.”

“I wanted to bring you here because you’re that important to me. You’re worth my secrets - knowing my every mystery. So I wanted to show you this. The stars. The things that restore my wonder, awe, and hope when I thought there was nothing. They’re what made me want to build resorts for people, so they’d never feel that depth of loneliness that I’ve felt.”

He looks over at you, a sense of sadness hanging there, in his eyes, nearly snuffing out the boyish look you’d seen in him not five minutes before.

“That’s enough of me, now, show me that picture of you.” He says, a smirk tugging at his lips, attempting to erase the melancholic grip around his heart.

Thankful you brought your phone with you, you pulled it out, showing Kazuomi a picture of you when you were about five.

You’re wearing a dress, covered in mud, and crying.

Kazuomi’s smirk dissolved into a laugh, trying not hard enough to hold back a laugh following his snort

You explain that you were playing in the park when you’d slipped on a patch of mud, somehow scraping your knee in the process

He couldn’t hold back anymore

The image of a cherubic, muddy, crying version of the strong, capable woman before him made him forget where he was

Although on any other day you’d hate the fact he was laughing at you, you were okay with it.

For a long time, Kazuomi’s smile was barely a ‘smile’

For so long he’d been in pain, and he’d been burying it.

Now though - he had you.

He chose to bring you to a place close to his heart - after he’d been saved.

He opened up to you and told you a story about the stars up above that helped him get through it.

And you made him laugh

As you lay there, looking at him, laughing, you decided to engrave this moment in your mind.

You promised yourself then;

When things got hard for him again, you’d be there. Ready to help him through whatever may stand in his way.

Yuzuru:

Blankets of white covered everything in sight

Christmas lights decorated the streets

every woman envied you - you were beautiful, smart, had wit, but most of all;

You were the only one who captivated Yuzuru

The only one he made those eyes at -

You were the only one who held his heart

And he made sure you knew that

Every winter, when the snow coated everything, he’d take you to a winter festival in the heart of Tokyo

Ice and snow sculptures alike littered the area, food stands selling warm food stood at attention beside the gaming booths.

Children chase each other, their mothers following close behind badgering their children to wear the scarves and hats they’d left behind.

Seated beside Yuzuru on a bench, you watch two children playing together: a boy and a girl.

He’s running in circles away from her, and she roars as she chases him.

Thinking the scene adorable, you chuckle a bit as you rest your head in the palm of your hand, your elbow digging into your thigh.

Suddenly, a welcome warmth makes its presence known on your otherwise numb free hand.

“They’re cute.”

“Yeah.” you say, enchanted by the children

“What do you think about becoming a mother?”

Surprised at the sudden question, you face him, seeing he’s completely serious - then again, Yuzuru’s not one who’d say something like that in a joking manner.

“It’s something I’d want, but with my line of work, it’s dangerous - not only for me, but for the kid.”

You say, turning back to look at the children innocently playing - not a care in the world.

“That makes sense - but you are open to becoming a mother, aren’t you? It is something you want?”

“Yeah, I’m still open to it - what’s with all the questions, by the way?”

“I thought it was an important discussion. Especially if we’re to get married one day.”

The way he nonchalantly said that almost made you think you’d merely imagined that last bit

“Afterall,” he continues

“You are the only woman I’d want to be the mother of my children.”

A promise of the future, made to you.

Did he know how flustered that made you?

Probably. Probably not.

Did he know if he’d chosen to have this conversation at a party with all those shabby women gathered around him they’d be seething?

Absolutely not.

He’s a bit oblivious that way.

And yes, the jealousy can get suffocating, but it makes you happy to think that Yuzu’s already thinking this far ahead - for the both of you.

The man who’s known solitude all of his life, fantasizes of a future with you - of a life with no more solitude. A life where you’re together (yes, maybe Victoria’ll be the third wheel - but she’s okay. Afterall, it still brings a smile to your face when you think back on her interrupting you two that night - when Yuzuru’s temperature steadily increased--).

Kei:

You two had a small little date planned for the day

What seemed to be a simple date at his place, drinking tea

Turned into one of the more peaceful days in both your lives.

Before either of you knew it, he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder.

Probably because he’d just returned from having to do some work at the embassy and prior to that - deal with something that’d come up back in London.

How long had it been since he’d properly slept?

Despite him being weary and tired, he’d kept his promise to go on a date with you when he returned.

Kei’s heart’s been scarred and broken far too many times, so for this angel with tattered wings to sleep next to you

Made you smile

He may not know how to properly express himself

But for you?

He’d do just about anything

You looked at his sleeping face for just a bit longer, doing everything you could to spread this moment out longer.

Just a bit more

Memorize his scent mixed with the smell of the tea

Feel his soft warmth against your skin - a blanket of fortitude against the cold

Commit the sound of his breathing and the pulses of his heart to memory

Remember the way his eyelashes slightly quiver against his porcelain cheeks

Remember this moment, for the both of you

Because honestly, you could be sent on a mission tomorrow, he could leave for London this afternoon, and you two’d never have this moment of isolated serenity again.

Well, for a while, anyway.

Wanting to protect the resting devious angel at your shoulder, you couldn’t help but slide into a comforting rest yourself.

And there you two remain, the perfect picture of devotion and protection. Serenity and grace. How long would this illusion last? This fragile moment frozen in glass and tainted by the amber hues of the setting sun?

Probably not long, but for what it was worth, it was worth all the while.

Boss:

A rare day off for the both of you.

It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing that’d only happen well -- only once.

He’d taken you to the observatory

Just a day of walking around, looking at different constellations and sitting in that one dark room looking up at the ceiling where millions upon millions of tiny little stars gleamed

You were breath taken by the sight, and never would’ve looked away

Except

Boss caressed your cheek with his long fingers, all the warmth and gentle care in the world seeming to be at the tips, gliding across your cheek

You look over at him

“I love the way you look at the stars”

Embarrassed, your cheeks turning a bright rosy pink, visible even under the artificial cover of night, you cover it up with a quick quip, turning your head to the side.

“Well that’s the way you look at soy sauce.”

Nonetheless, he chuckles and holds your head close

Chin resting atop your head and hand running down your back, he whispers - quiet enough you almost can’t hear him;

“Always so quick to get flustered ...But that’s okay. As long as I’m the only one capable of flustering you, just as you are me.”

#Kazuomi Shido #kazuomi #shido #yuzuru shiba #yuzu #yuzuru #shiba #kei sojima #kei #sojima #boss #MK #mas kiss #masquerade kiss #fluff #HC #love 365 #voltage inc

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notgonnarememberthis · 4 years ago

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Murphy’s Law

Hellooo. This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute and right now I think everyone needs a little break from the stress. The idea for this fic is the missing scene from when Jessica pulls Gil out of the trunk to when Malcolm gets to the hospital because it’d take 2 hours. I hope y’all enjoy this little exploration it was a lot of fun to write and plan this out with my best friend. The title is based on literally murphy’s law where “anything that can go wrong, will go wrong”

Jessica tries her best to keep her breathing steady, to not focus on what happened and put all of her attention into driving.

God when was the last time that she’s driven a car at all?

15 years ago, maybe. Ainsley had a fever, she was alone. Malcolm was at Gil’s, she didn’t have a choice. She was so scared…

It’s the closest she’s ever come to calling Martin, herself. The thought fills her mouth with disgust and she has to shake her head to force the memories away. For the slightest moment she’s thankful for Gil’s taste in old cars. It’s similar to the one she was taught to drive in, it feels more automatic than she would know what to do with in a much newer one, one that she might own. Her hands clench even tighter around the steering wheel.

This was so much worse than a fever.

It’s the sound of Gil’s breathing, as labored as it is that keeps her tears from falling. As long as he’s still breathing she still has time. The smell of blood is overwhelming, all of her senses are so damn overwhelmed.

She almost cries in relief at seeing the hospital.

She pulls in quickly in front of the giant emergency room sign. She spares only a moment looking around, pleading that she sees some doctor or nurse on a break. With no such luck she runs back over to the other side of the car pulling the door open.

Her heart drops when she sees his eyes are closed. “Gil,” She calls to him softly. The tears come down in full force when she sees his chest rise and fall. “Come on,” She reaches in pulling him out of the car but he’s a dead weight against her. “Gil please I need you to wake up.” She sobs. “You need to help me, come on.” He doesn’t wake, he’s completely unconscious either of blood loss or pain.

She pulls on him but stumbles backwards. She loses balance in her heels under the weight of the two of them. Her ankle twists painfully before she hits the pavement with him in her lap.

“Somebody help me!” She screams in desperation. Sobs wrack her frame as she holds her hand over the wound trying to stop the bleeding. Her head bows as she hears the doors slide open, three sets of feet racing towards them. A fourth comes wheeling a gurney and just like that he’s lifted off and away from her.

A man helps her to her feet and she’s back into action once again. “What’s his name? What happened?”

“His name is Lieutenant Gil Arroyo with major crimes. He was stabbed and dragged into the back of a trunk. I wrecked into the car to get him out.”

The man nods his thanks, turning his full attention to Gil. “Lieutenant, we’re going to do our best to help you.”

“His blood type is A positive, he has no allergies, and he’s on no medication.” She follows the gurney along until a hand stops her, grabbing at her elbow.

“Mrs. Arroyo, you can’t go in. You need to let the doctors do their work.” She turns to the voice. A much younger blonde woman looks at her with a softness that hurts so badly. That’s the kind of compassion that this world tears apart. She would be eaten alive.

“I’m not-” She tries to correct the girl, but sobs take over once again. “I can’t leave him.”

“I need to get you checked out, okay?” She asks. “You said you wrecked the car, correct?” Jessica tries not to let her irritation bubble to the surface with a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s only procedure ma’am.” Jessica looks down at her again. Her eyes, they remind her so much of Ainsley. “Let me help you.” She nods following her to a spare bench.

“What’s your name?” She asks weakly.

“Tiff.” She smiles gently. “Yours?”

“Jessica, Jessica Whitly.” Realization settles over the girl’s face.

“Oh. I’m sorry I assumed you were married to Lieutenant Arroyo.” Jessica swallows the guilt at the back of her throat. Maybe, once upon a time, that could’ve been a possibility. She’s almost relieved when the girl doesn’t seem to recognize her. “Can you tell me, completely, what happened?”

“Depends, would you believe me?” Sarcasm, her best defense, coats her tongue.

“I’ve seen a man who lived through getting rebar through the skull and make a full recovery. Try me.” Jessica sighs, detailing the horrors of the night to this poor girl as she checked on her. She winced slightly when the girl grabbed the ankle that had twisted but otherwise, she was unharmed.

Just then the doors burst open and they wheeled Gil quickly out of the room. She stood up, ready to follow when the girl puts a hand on her shoulder. “They’re taking him back to the operating room. He just stabilized enough to move him.” The girl’s eyes fall to her hands, still stained a deep red with blood. “Other than a sprained ankle I think you’re perfectly fine. We’ll need to do an x-ray for confirmation but that can wait. Let’s get you cleaned up, ok?”

She nods, numbly following the girl to the nearest bathroom. She washes her hands wishing that she could get rid of the smell burning her nose. She knows it’s stained her dress and the shoes, even though they’re black she can still smell it.

“Does he have anyone you can call? A wife? Next of kin?” Jessica almost laughs.

“I’m his emergency contact.” She sighs. “His wife died three years ago. No children.”

“Well he was very lucky you were here. Not many people would know that much information. It was very helpful.”

“God, I need to call my son.” She looks around for her purse, surely she must have had it. Maybe she left it in the car. “He’s like a father to him he’s-” Oh god, Malcolm is probably on a plane by now. She’d given Gil the money to get him out of the country until his accusations cleared up. She needs to try. “Did you see my-”

Her question stops in her tracks as she remembers what happened again. She’d left her purse behind when she smashed the plate into Nicholas’ head. She stashed her phone inside when she tried to call 9-1-1.

“I lost my phone.” A bitter laugh escapes her. Tears fall all over again, ones of frustration at the world.

“You can borrow mine.” She makes a mental note to look into the girl later. Truly pay her back for the help that she’s given. “I can bring you to the waiting room if you’d like, maybe I can wait with you until your son comes.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” She smiles sadly. “You shouldn’t have to be alone right now.”

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Her fingers shake as she dials Malcolm’s number. She bites her lip as the phone rings twice, trying to think of what the hell she was supposed to say to him.

“Mother?”

She almost cries with relief. “Malcolm,” She sighs.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” She can almost see him sitting up, looking around in a panic.

“Gil’s in the hospital. He was stabbed.”

“I’m in Connecticut, I’ll be there as soon as possible. Don’t leave, it’s not safe. I’ll call Dani and JT so they can come to the hospital. They’ll sit with you until I can get there. Where’s Ainsley? Where’s your phone?”

The rapid fire statements throw her off as she catches up Malcolm on what happened. She almost loses all sense of where she is until she feels something heavy settle on her shoulders. The blanket is a welcome warmth against the frigid hospital air.

She calls Ainsley too but she’s stuck in the office until she can get out of the emergency press meeting. She promises to pick her up some clothes from the house before coming over after she gets off, though. It will be a welcome relief to get out of the dress that feels like it’s suffocating her. The intern, Tiff, has to leave shortly before either Dani or JT arrive, but it’s not without her having the ability to thank her for her kindness.

She will feel better when Malcolm and Ainsley both are there. Until then, she holds desperately onto what little control of her life she has left.

After all, it couldn’t possibly get worse.

#jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #gilssica #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #malcolm bright #prodigal son #prodigal son spoilers

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

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JALICEWEEK20 DAY 6

The Way of Things

JaliceWeek20 Day 6: Reincarnation

Notes: I... don’t know. It just sort of happened? This wrote itself. There were a few more lifetimes I thought about including (there was a Jessamine and Alice ‘life’ that I really wanted to include but it’ll be a standalone fic once I’ve done a bunch of research) but I think I’m happy with it?

This was absolutely inspired by a gorgeous Thor fic I read a few years ago based in Norse mythology and the creation of Yggdrasil; if I can find it, I will absolutely link it because it was an incredible piece of writing.

Also go me! I’m kind of getting a hang of writing sex adjacent scenes! I remember not being able to look directly at my cursor when I implied a blow job in Shadow to Light, I’m oddly proud!

Now, just the second part to Against a Wall.

Word Count: 4,322

NSFW - not graphic but yeah.

Soulmates are funny things. They do not start out existence together; they must find each other - it might take one life time, it might take ten. It is important they undergo this struggle; some souls are not meant for regeneration - they shine and burn out within a lifetime or two. But others get stronger, more powerful, during those early searching years.

And one they find one another, they are forever more entangled. The oldest and strongest eventually fuse, unable to be separated in life or death.

Of course, eventually they burn out. But not in a tragic way; more like in a way that is last page of a very good book; the wilting of a final flower in autumn; the way snow melts in early spring, with sense of peace and satisfaction, and utter tranquility. And as they dissolve into starlight and dust, they begin the cycle anew. It is neither good nor bad or anything in between.

It is simply the way of things.

—

When they meet the first time they are vampires in Dacia - the land that will become Romania. It is an era of indulgence for vampires in that region, and if any records had been kept, it would have declared nearly dangerous levels of changes.

She is Alis, a peasant girl changed by a careless vampire who fed and left her in a ditch. She’s a gentle beauty, with long dark hair, sharp and cunning eyes, and even after the change, her skin maintains a slightly golden tint of someone who spent their life in the sun.

He is Jesper, who mentions nothing of where he came from or what he was before he arrived to hover at the fringes of the Romanian court. He has a reputation in the court, with the ladies and the men both, and Alis is entirely aware and slightly amused by that. She catches his eye more than once, but is illusive like a quicksilver, unbent and unbowed.

Until she isn’t.

It’s been a good hunt, blood soaked through their clothes to their skin that they lick off each other in their frenzy, and she learns exactly how he developed such a reputation. He learns exactly what he was looking for as he finds himself skin to skin with the spirited girl that has always seen him coming before he could catch her. But he has her now, and he’s not letting go.

She doesn’t seem to mind. They become a common sight, as a pair, their hands constantly entangled. They are not at court to curry favour or power or anything more than their next meal, but their relationship is magnetic, and more than one jealous or yearning gaze falls upon them as he presses hot kisses to her neck as he ties a choker of sapphires or diamonds around her pale throat.

The Volturi attack a century or so later, and they stand with the Romanians, their leaders and their friends. He remembers thinking they cannot possibly fail; they are the side of the kings, of the angels. He remembers admiring her as they lined up; the way she had pinned her hair with the silver clasp he’d given her, the way her dress fit her and the smirk on her lips that promised something to look forward to in their personal victory celebrations.

They don’t survive. In the chaos of the battle, it is hard to say how they each fell - the Volturi take no prisoners anyway, so a quick death in battle is preferable to an execution. But they fall and they are burnt, and their ashes mingle in the purple-grey smoke that fills the field.

When Lord Aro finds a silver hair clasp discarded on the battlefield, still clinging to a clump of dark hair, he pockets it and later presents it to Sulpicia, polished to shine and on a bed of velvet. It is a curious and beautiful piece, the shape of a raven’s wing, and it quickly joins the Volturi’s treasury without a single thought given to its origins.

—

In whatever counts as the afterlife for souls and spirits, they reunite. It will take more than one life to work out their powers, the boundaries, of this resting place - how to shape it to their preferences, how to give themselves form. For now, it is just a long horizon of contrasting light, and they are little more than sentient energy, mingling and expressing regret and pain at the demise of the other, of relief of being reunited, of contentedness being once again with the other.

Time is not something that exists on this plane, and soon they learn how to change what is around them; a swathe of sandy beach that meets perfectly clear water, expansive grassy plains that fit between quiet, looming forests that are quiet and cool. They are no more fixed than any other aspect of this space, but it remains unexpectedly consistent.

Sometimes, there is a house. It’s immediate form never changes, but the outside facade does, as the lifetimes pass them by. Somethings a log cabin, other times an English cottage, or a farmhouse, or a bamboo hut. It is their every-changing, ever-evolving desires, a nod to their shared past and their hopes for the future. It is their reward, their sanctuary.

They learn how to shape themselves as well. She fluctuates a little more than him, but she is always small, always naturally dark-haired, always cunning but sweet. He is always tall and always blonde and too charming for his own good, and sometimes not he is she, blonde and tall and could charm birds from the trees. It doesn’t matter either way; the small one greets them just the same, with enthusiasm and passion and sweet sadness at their demise but always joy at their return.

And that is where they are together until the next life.

—

The next life is simpler; a part of a nomadic tribe. She is married, in their customs, to him when she is little more than a child and he just barely a man. And despite how they were raised, he is kind and gentle to her and has no interest in her as a wife before she becomes a woman.

It is a hard year, a bad year, as they travel the mountains and ridges, the snow sharp against their faces. Few of the tribe have born children that year, and less still have lived through the winter; when food is so scarce, the dying are calmly let go so that the rest might survive. There is an undercurrent of resentment when he hoists his child-bride onto his back so that she might make the climb; that he, young and strong and likely to live long and hardy, gives his share of food and water to the bony waif he is bound to.

But she lives through that year, and the next. She lives enough years that they are both ready for her to become a wife, and everyone who scorned her frailness, her smallness, the waste of a strong husband on such a girl, is shocked when she conceives and carries his child so easily. First a son, then two daughters, all born close enough together that the old women of the tribe mutter.

The tribe becomes stronger, settles in one place for longer and longer periods of time - where food and water are plentiful and they are safe from predators and other threats.

She dies during her fourth pregnancy, slipping away in an ocean of blood no one could have prevented. Her eyes are wild and frightened, and he promises that he’ll watch over their children and see them safe, and weeps openly over her body and that of his second son.

He dies after his second daughter is married to a neighbouring tribe, to a boy who looks at her like she is a miracle, and he knows his job is done. The death is quiet, in the still of the night, in the shelter that he once shared with her. As he passes from the world, he remembers the nights when it was him and her amongst the furs, and then their children pressed between them, and then the firm bulge of the child who would ultimately kill her. He holds no resentment for the cause of her death, just a faint and worn sadness, and as he drifts away, he is certain he can hear her laughing.

—

He is a soldier, to protect his family, for a cause he finds entirely repulsive. But he mouths the words and holds the gun, and does not recognise her when he is ordered to shoot. Why would he? They’ve never met. She dies in the mud, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because they end up naming him a traitor and he dies in prison heavy with regrets.

In their sanctuary, they reunite in silence, with sad eyes and gentle embraces. Whatever powers above govern creation, they still send the souls and soulmates to earth, to be swallowed up and spat back out by human machinations, human fears and flaws and greed.

It is simply the way of things.

—

She is a barefoot thief in the streets of Paris, dangerously fast, and subtle of hand. She tells no one her story, or at least, no one her truth. Ragged and smirking, people mistake her for a child, and so there is little trouble to be had - if she’s caught at all.

She runs into him, lounging in an alleyway, tricking lords and ladies out of coins wiht sleight of hand, and is delighted with their potential. She’s old enough to be charmed by sharp green eyes and a lazy grin, and young enough to contemplate the sheer levels of chaos they can cause.

They live like kings those next few years, pinching pearls and purses, watches and rubies, and living in an icy dormer room wearing stolen rings to convince others of things they’ll get around to eventually. It’s really not much - a narrow bed with wafer thin blankets and a shared pillow; water that runs cold and brown into a bucket; pigeons that nest in the rafters and shit all over their clothing.

Doesn’t seem to matter, though, when she welcomes his kiss and sleepily encourages him when he rolls on top of her during the late night hours, frost forming on the weave and weft of their clothes. When their work is good, he brings her flowers from the seller on the corner, and she tucks her pockets full of cakes for them to share, and really, neither could imagine a finer life than together in their little tower.

But time marches on, and soon they recognise that the tricks that have gotten them this far in life aren’t going to be overlooked forever. There are less nobles on the street, less coin and jewellery to be fleeced, and so they decide to leave for the country - he’s not afraid of dirty work, and she’s not afraid of anything.

The journey will be long, and she steals a book for him on their way - he’s determined to teach her to read. It’s a neat little Bible with a smart green cover with the name ‘C-a-r-l-i-s-l-e C-u-l-l-e-n’ written in neat script on the front page.

They settle in a village, where she becomes a laundress, then a seamstress, and he finds work with horses. They marry in the village parish, where the kind priest is happy to absolve them of the sin of living as man and wife before their vows, and keep their secret. They exchange stolen rings for ones of brass, from a jar the priest keeps for that purpose.

There’s a tiny two-room cottage they occupy; those early years of hunger and neglect have left their mark on them both, and so there are no children in this life. But there is an endless parade of animals that he brings home tucked under his jacket; wounded or lost or discarded, and she finds that she doesn’t so much mind waking up to a blind duck on their bed or a sickly fox on the pillow next to her, when he is always so pleased with their progress, with their improving health. He saves more than he loses, and he takes pride in that. Some are set free and returned to the wild, but others linger until they are something of a spectacle in town - the house with all the animals.

They live a long life, a good one, and it ends peacefully. They are buried side by side in the village cemetery, with wooden crosses that bare their names, and prayers muttered in their honour.

But one Carlisle Cullen never gets his Bible back.

—

The good lives give them less time together in the in-between, if such a thing could be accurately measured. They wade, knee-deep into that perfect ocean that stretches out to their infinite horizon, hand-in-hand, and then they both feel it; that fizzing, tingling feeling as whatever oversees them pulls them back; back into bodies and minds, back into lives and places, and they once again have to go through the push and pull of finding the other and crossing their fingers it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

As he becomes nothing again, he holds her smile tight in his mind with a prayer that this will be the time, this will be the life, that he’ll recognise her for who she is to him as soon as he sees her.

She hopes its a long life, a good one, with his hand in hers always.

—

He’s reborn in Texas in 1863 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

She’s born in Mississippi in 1901 and dies nineteen years later, only to rise again.

They meet in 1948, and if he knew any better, he’d tease her about keeping him waiting for thirty-seven years, six months, and three weeks. But it will be a while more before they both remember things like that, so he can’t. Instead, he falls completely and utterly in love with her, in a way that echoes right back through to that very first meeting in Dacia.

He wonders if its possible to miss someone he’d never met before, when he takes her hand. She wonders if he’s going to disappear, to startle and panic about the future that lies before them and leave her behind.

He kisses her like a starving man, and she almost immediately drags him - a willing supplicant - into her bed because it doesn’t matter what life they’re living, she’s never been particularly subtle. He knows exactly what to do to make her scream indecently, and she puts her mouth to every single one of his scars, and he wishes he could weep - with relief and guilt and a million other things that are knotted up inside his head.

And she will untangle each and every single one with enough time.

They unknowingly draw from each of the lives that have come before - they are nomadic for more than two years, criss-crossing across the country. He is no less fixated on animals - as a human, it was the training of them; as a vampire, they are his salvation. Their hands are always entangled, their gazes always on the other.

This time, they find a family, and some quiet, subconscious little corner of her mind decides she likes that they aren’t alone this time. There’s a small joy in the memory of a ��family’, and a warm feeling - one that she doesn’t know originated from a long-ago life where they were the ones welcoming new children into their heart and home, one she doesn’t quite recognise. But families are shaped so many different ways, and the Cullens are just another way to fit together, and so they stay.

It’s a good life, an untroubled life - at least until Edward gets tangled up with a human girl and the cursed Volturi. Somewhere, the great puppet master jerks the strings and decides that if history is so desperate to repeat itself, well, it might as well put on a show.

They escape the Volturi once (a flight to Italy to save an idiot brother), and twice (Renesmee shall live, Joham shall die, and Aro leaves without any new amusements and deeply, infinitely disappointed in his beloved Carlisle).

Third time’s a charm.

—

Aro’s great error shall go down in history as underestimating the damage he has done assembling his collection, the rage and resentment that boils like an undercurrent in the vampire world. He is not a beloved leader, but a feared one.

In truth, which will be lost to both time and the fact that the powers above don’t keep written or oral histories as humans comprehend them, his undoing is two things: the fact that in all things there must be balance.

And an ancient silver hair clasp shaped like a raven’s wing, that his Sulpicia wears in her hair as they arrive at the battlefield, cloaked and over-confident.

The battle is ugly and fatal and messy and all those things wars usually are, and there is no certainty in their victory, not with the wolves involved, with the shifters and the cryptids that have crawled out of every shadow and space to be done with Aro and Caius forever.

(Stefan and Vladimir are naive if they think they will fill the vacuum left behind in Aro’s wake; Jasper takes them both out quietly on the battlefield, when neither of them can call out the betrayal or identify their killer. Sometimes ugly things need to be done, and he’s not above getting his hands dirty.)

The battleground is smokey and even her supernatural eyes struggle to see through the gloam; her dead heart heavy as she looks for him. Voices call for help; for missing limbs, for injuries, for protection and she ignores each and every one.

She doesn’t know why she stops at the sight of a silver hair clasp, ancient and lost in the mud. Or why she reaches for her own hair, cut short.

Or why she picks it up and unlocks something inside her own mind. It is not an explosion of information, a supernova of memory. It is simply an intense awareness of who she is and who she was and who she will be. It is a confidence in her stride as she moves through the battlefield with a sense of self she has not known since before her home was known as ‘Romania’.

Jasper is bent and twisted, Rosalie limp on the ground, and those vicious, hideous twins hold them captive, like fish twitching on the line. Their deaths are not imminent, because who could take down the little vipers and stop their little game?

Jane’s head is off her body, and Alec’s too, before Jasper has shaken off the pain, expecting Peter or Maria or Emmett to have gotten a lucky shot and dismembered Aro’s little favourites.

Instead, it is his mud-streaked wife with a strange look in her eyes and emotions skittering over her skin like static. A battlefield is no place for a lover’s reunion, but she still bestows a kiss on his kneeling form (so ready for his own execution) that is so positively lascivious that it takes him a minute to remember himself.

And then he remembers himself.

The scales have been rebalanced, and the fight is won by a toss of a coin that finds Aro, Caius, and Marcus on their knees in the mud, waiting for their own trial. The oldest of the gathered line up - Carlisle, Amun, Maria, the Chinese coven - to pass their judgement, but the memories that press on both of them demand their pound of flesh, and Edward eyes them both uneasily.

Instead of violence, of sliding down a slope that turns them back into the monsters of old, into the truest of nightmares, Alice crouches in front of Aro with her wide dark gold eyes, and pulls the hair clasp from her pocket.

Aro’s rage is cold, at the few strands of Sulpicia’s hair that are still trapped in the metal, and if he could, he’d shred her to pieces in that moment, gift be damn. But she smiles sweetly, and strokes the etched feathers.

“Did you know?” she asks quietly, only loud enough for the fallen Volturi kings to hear, and Edward who hovers in case this spirals into a cataclysm, “When he gave me this, I mean?”

Aro stares at her, straining to touch her and understand, but his guard holds him tight and all he can do is sneer at her.

“The night before you brought your army,” Alice plucks the strawberry-blonde hairs from the fixture and tosses them into the mud. “He pinned this in my hair and we danced; we thought we’d win. And I suppose we did.”

Aro gapes at her, Caius is spitting curses, and Marcus is just pleading for his peaceful death - and how many lifetimes has he lived without Didyme, has he wanted to return to that in-between space?

She sees the scar on Esme’s face and finds it hard to care.

Edward is backing away in horror from whatever he sees in her mind, and Jasper is helping her stand, returning to their place amongst the very confused witnesses - what could the diminutive vampire say to the Lords of Volterra that would inspire such a response. The three are summarily executed without ceremony, and they are scattered over the fire without reverence.

Alice tosses the hair clasp in, too. It is better to be burnt to nothing, to be forgotten and buried by dirt and ash. It is too close to becoming a cursed object, one that will follow them, if they place too much belief and trust and hope into it. It has witnessed two downfalls, and it will never witness another.

He holds her tight in the aftermath, as they count their dead and make their plans. Edward is already whispering warnings into Carlisle’s ear, of the shape their thoughts and memories take. But they are family, and that comes before everything else.

(It’s not exactly their fault that Edward is a shiny new soul, and it’s going to take him a few lifetimes to understand what he’s seeing and hearing. Harder especially for him, with his gift so strong so early in the cycle. But everything happens for a reason.)

Despite the curiosity wafting off everyone, they say nothing and they go… well, not home, but to the closest residence, the headquarters of this war. A sprawling property with enough beds for the wounded, the wolves, and the lovers.

That’s where she makes good on her unspoken promises from eons again, of their private victory celebration. She sits astride him, her hips rolling hard against his, drawing out his groans and growls as he grips her thighs almost tight enough to crack. Their gazes are locked the entire time, her tongue skimming over her lips, as she lets her emotions tell him everything that she wants and everything she plans to take.

He remembers fucking her in the dirt in Dacia; his mouth between her legs as she hollered obscenities in a Paris attic; and the urgent, passionate loving-making of a marriage finally consummated.

She remembers bloody emeralds looped around her throat and resting between her breasts as she gets down on her knees and takes him into her mouth, his fingers tangled in her hair; the delicious weight of him on top of her, their sweat mingling and cooling in the frozen night as their flimsy bed creaked against the wall; and his soft encouragement in her ear as he grasps her around the waist, their hands resting together on the gentle swell of her stomach.

It is times like this that their talents are burdens and gifts both because it is so much, so very much, and in all that passion and true love, there is also loss and regret.

But they have each other, and they will weather this new storm together.

—

They are hardly the only couple to spend the night tumbling together, but they must be the loudest, because when they reappear the next morning with darkened eyes and clean clothes, Jacob and Emmett are looking at Jasper with a new and very specific kind of respect, and if she flips both of them off behind Esme’s back, no one has any proof.

They don’t talk about what they’ve learnt, because it probably wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t matter, until the mantle of it settles upon you. And then it is everything.

Instead, they hunt. They have won the battle, won the war, and whilst rebuilding will take time, they can take this small moment to feast with their family and relish freedom from fear.

She truly doesn’t know what comes next. He truly doesn’t know if it will be good or bad. They will live this life for as long as it lasts, long may it last, surrounded by the people they love and trust.

And then they will die.

And then they will live again. Maybe they will live another ten lives, maybe another one hundred. Maybe one day they will cross paths with their family again, or they will choose to have children again. Maybe they will be long lives full of joy and laughter, maybe they will burn out fast and hard, but full of feeling.

But the thing they are now both and utterly certain of, above all else, is that they will walk each step hand-in-hand.

It is simply the way of things.

#jaliceweek20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight renaissance #twilight fic #jalice #jalice fic #my fic: the way of things

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