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heliads · 4 years ago

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Radio Silence Chapter Four: I Verify

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

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Poe waits. Y/N does not show up. To be honest, he’s not sure why he cares. He’s only met her a few hours ago, and they’ve been clashing ever since. Yet there was still something strange about seeing that brief flash of unease in her eyes, the waver in her voice when she was questioning Leia. Stormtroopers and the threat of torture back in her First Order cell were never enough to shake her, yet something at the base had washed all of that away. Isn’t that something to be concerned about?

Poe watches the corridors, the rooms, the training centers, but Y/N is conspicuously absent from all of them. It’s not like he’s actively trying to search her out, he just keeps noticing that she isn’t there. If he went to all of the trouble of breaking her out of a First Order Star Destroyer, he should at least know that she’s alright, right? He sounds like a lunatic.

After a couple of days, Poe finally sees her. She’s walking purposefully through the corridors of the base, listening to some coworker yammer on next to her. When Y/N’s eyes catch on him, she seems to hesitate for a second, then she raises a hand in greeting. Poe smiles in return, and just like that, the moment is over. Poe isn’t sure what he was expecting- he and Y/N had been fighting almost all of the time they spent on the Needle. So what if they had been civil on the base- did he really expect that they would trade insults in front of Leia? Nothing’s changed except the location, and Poe shouldn’t find himself disappointed that it hasn’t.

Life on the base goes on as normal. Poe sees rebels sent out on missions, they return with more scars and tales of high-stakes chases through the stars. Eventually, Poe gets tired of sitting around and politicking with Leia’s advisors, so he puts in a request for an off-base mission. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have to wait, but at least the prospect of leaving this system is somewhere in reach.

The mission ends up coming around sooner than he’d expected- barely a week goes by before Poe finds himself packing for another expedition. He’ll be taking his trusty X-Wing this time, no more sublight cruises or Mandalorian Needles. To be honest, Poe is okay with this- if there’s only room for him, there’s no chance that he’s bringing back snarky mechanic spy officers who can rival his knowledge of ship parts or be able to bother him with a single smirk and step.

As Poe is tossing his gear into his X-Wing, he notices someone walking up behind him. He turns to see Y/N, arms swinging casually at her sides as she takes in the ship. “Have you been downgraded from the Needle?” She asks, grinning. Poe ignores the sarcastic grin. “The Needle was temporary, the X-Wing is my favorite. If you say anything bad about her I’ll kick your ass myself.” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Defensive, I see. Does that mean a lot of people have said bad things about your X-Wing or are you just very prepared?”

Poe turns to look at her, folding his arms across his chest. “Are you always this exasperating or is it just for me?” Y/N grins like a lynx. “What, are you asking if you’re special to me? Not a chance. I just wanted to see if Finn was going with you or not.” Poe leans up against the metal fuselage of his ship. “That’s a good excuse, but I’m pretty sure that you came all the way out to the hanger just to see me off.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I was so excited to see you leave that I couldn’t help myself. Don’t take it too seriously.” Poe flashes her a grin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’ll miss me.” With that, he jumps up into the X-Wing, holding back a laugh at the sound of Y/N’s outraged retorts. Yet when he checks one last time over his shoulder as he flies out of the hanger, he notices that Y/N is still watching him go, a soft smile on her lips. Maybe she wasn’t so unfeeling after all.

The mission itself is nothing major. He’s not going into the Kinoss system or anywhere near Starkiller Base, just treading lightly on the outskirts of the Unknown Regions. There’s a backup copy of Resistance data files that needs to be collected and brought back to base. It contains lists of recon officers and spies, their assigned locations, and everything they’ve been able to find out over the last month. To put it simply, it is imperative that Poe finds this data file and brings it back before the First Order catches wind of its presence.

BB-8 whistles at him from over his shoulder, and Poe grins. “No, I’m not worried. This isn’t like Kinoss, we shouldn’t have to get anywhere near a Star Destroyer. Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s a whirring and clicking, and Poe shoots the droid a look over his shoulder. “Will you stop talking about her? She was just there to get in one final jibe in case I died, and I’m not going to die, so it’s no big deal.” He pauses for a second, listening to the series of beeps, then speaks again. “If you don’t drop this I’m going to send you over to Finn and get a new droid that doesn’t bother me all the time. Yes, I’m joking, stop your chatter.”

Poe touches down just outside of some backwater town. It’s not so different from the planet D’Qar, where the Resistance base is currently hidden, or even Yavin 4. Manageable gravity, only one sun, except there are significantly fewer forests and more of these massive stone outcroppings that block off the sun to create areas of shadow on the ground that are miles long. Farms have to be built on moving bases so that they can constantly stay in the sun as the sun passes overhead, forever shifting back and forth to avoid the shade of the stone cliffs.

Poe received intel that the data files were stored in a cave on the northeastern part of the planet, in a hollow in a rock face. He’s been sent the exact coordinates, and he makes his way deliberately along the surface of the planet, dodging behind large crags of rock whenever stormtroopers or civilians pass his way. He doesn’t want to be spotted, because he won’t be able to talk his way out of this one. A Resistance officer getting caught on a city planet is understandable, but here? He would obviously be hiding something.

After about half a standard hour of walking, Poe finds the cave entrance. He flicks on a lightstick from his multitool, shining it around. His eyes quickly catch on a plasteel crate tucked away under a rock ledge, and he hurries over to it, picking it up and carrying it out of the cave. Once he gets out into the light once more, Poe can recognize the faded Resistance insignia, and he knows he has the right box. Just to be careful, though, he opens up the box once he’s back inside his X-Wing, telling BB-8 to pilot him back so that Poe can direct his full attention to the crate.

The box is empty except for one datapad. Curious, Poe lifts it from the box, flicking it on and allowing a wash of bluish white light to cascade over his face in the dark of space. BB-8 whistles something from behind him, and Poe waves a hand dismissively at the small droid. “I’m sure it’s fine that I look at this. I have to make sure it isn’t a First Order decoy, right?” Besides, Poe makes knowing things a habit in the Resistance, and he’d like to make sure he stays on top of things. Even without his pride, however, there’s still a fairly good reason to check the files: they might contain something on Acer.

This is wrong, yes. He shouldn’t be checking it, shouldn’t know anything about her at all. But he isn't interested in finding out the name, only the status. If she’s dead or still considered missing, the file will state it. After a few minutes of paging through the data sets, Poe finds the entry he’s looking for: Sender code name: Acer. Receiver code name: Bravo. This is her. At first, Poe’s eyes flick over to the status bar, and he feels his chest fill with silent, overwhelming gratitude when he reads the few words labeled there: Alive. Returned to base. But then he keeps reading, and Poe feels a sudden piercing shock drive through him like a vibroblade.

His real name is there as the receiver: Poe Dameron. Next to that, though, is her name. Acer’s real name. Sender: Y/N L/N. Poe leans his head back, letting it thunk against the seat. For a second, he can’t think about anything at all. His eyes watch as the stars flick past behind him, but he isn’t taking in a thing. Then all of the emotions hit him at once. Acer is Y/N. Y/N is Acer. This must be what she was talking about that day, wasn’t it? Poe had told her that he was Bravo, that he was Acer’s receiver. Of course she had seemed stunned, she was going through the same revelation that Poe is undertaking right now.

But it’s different for Poe. Y/N had only had to realize that the man in front of her was Bravo, and she had chosen to not say anything. She had kept it entirely to herself, except for a frenzy of questions delivered to Leia. Why hadn’t she said anything? Yes, they’d been arguing for a while back on the Needle, but that wasn’t enough for her to damn him to never knowing if she was dead or alive. Why would she have lied to him?

By the time Poe is docking at the Resistance hanger once more, his anger and betrayal have faded into an overwhelming numbness. He walks over to Leia at the command center, handing her the box with the data files still securely inside. He doesn’t say anything more than he has to, and then he leaves the room once more. Poe has scarcely gone ten paces from the room when Y/N rounds the corner, and a cocky smile lights up her face at the sight of him. Poe can’t bring himself to return it, even when she hurries over to him.

“Look who it is, the returning hero! I thought I’d have a little longer until you came back. I think I might be disappointed.” On any other day, Poe would have scoffed, and said something about how every minute in that ship away from her was a blessing, but he stays silent today. Instead, he looks over at her, starting to veer away from the hallway and towards a door leading to an empty room. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N’s grin falters at the look on his face, at the stiffness of his words.

“Sure, Dameron. I’m a little worried now.” She follows him into the room and Poe closes the door behind him once he makes sure that they’re alone. When he turns back from the door, Y/N is facing him, the soft light of the room hanging over her eyes in a gentle wash of brightness. “What’s wrong?” She asks. Poe just looks at her coolly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t have to say anything more- Y/N knows what he’s talking about. Her gaze falls away, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “You know.”

Poe feels a surge of anger starting to twist up in him once more. “Of course I know. How long were you planning on keeping this from me? A month, a year? What, you thought you could never tell me and it would be okay? I would have spent the rest of my life thinking that my Acer, my best friend, was dead or tortured, and you were fine with that.” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I would never have done that to you.”

Guilt is spun around Y/N’s every feature, but it hurts too much to look at her. “I wanted to tell you, but I know you wouldn’t want to hear it. Not from me.” She laughs, the sound twisted and broken in the quiet room. “You would never have wanted to find out like that. What, that ‘your Acer’ was the girl you’d spent the last few hours hating and arguing with on that ship? If I had told you, you would have wished I kept it to myself. When you told me you were Bravo I realized that Leia had never told you, and I figured it would be best if I went along with it. You would never have wanted it to be me, not in a million years.”

Poe just stares at her. “What, you thought that this was you doing the right thing? Maybe I would have been surprised, but you don’t get to decide how I would have felt. You don’t know what I would have said, so you made the choice for me.” Poe rakes a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Stars, I don’t know anything about you.” Y/N’s gaze turns cold. “No, you really don’t.” With that, she turns and walks from the room. Were it not for the hunch in her shoulders, Poe would have thought she was fine. Yet he can still see it in her stance, in the rhythm of her steps as she walks away. He’s really done it now.

Poe waits until he can no more, slipping away from his quarters to go find Y/N. He’s not sure what he would say to her- apologize? Promise he’s not going to leave? But it doesn’t look like he’ll get the chance- no matter where he goes, Poe cannot find her. Eventually, some comms officer notices him walking back and forth down the halls and offers to help him out. When Poe explains that he’s looking for Y/N, the officer visibly winces.

“I’m sorry, Dameron, but Recon Agent L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. It was really hush-hush, almost nobody knew except Leia and a few others. All I can tell you is that she was in a team with two other soldiers, and they were going somewhere in the Core Worlds.” Poe starts. “But that’s in the middle of First Order territory. That’s practically suicide.” The officer nods sympathetically. “It’s dangerous, that’s for sure. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see her off, I thought I saw her looking for you. Well, keep your hopes up. I’m sure she’ll be back here before we know it.”

The officer continues on down the corridor, leaving Poe reeling in his head. That was why Y/N wanted to see him- to tell him about the mission. And how had he left her, minutes before she left on what would probably be the most dangerous mission of her life? With angry words and accusations of betrayal. He wishes he could take it back, redo that moment. Even his anger from before seems dull and pale now.

What if Poe never sees her again? What if that was his last moment with Y/N, with Acer, and he just left a broken memory with the most important girl in his life?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata, @ubri812, @itsnottilly, @20th-centu-fairy-girl, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @cp11, @chocolitelady

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron series #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #star wars series #star wars poe #star wars poe imagines #star wars poe x reader #star wars poe series #swtfa #tfa

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fandomficsnstuff · 4 years ago

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Idiot

(Okay so I’m in the mood for some Bill Williamson stuff, so, buckle up darlings! And hopefully I did him justice)

Warnings: a bit angst I think, but major fluff at the end, and Bill being a cute little thang as always (I adore him and his awkwardness)

You scoffed as you watched Bill warm up his gelders, but you couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on your lips “are you really gonna torture the poor boy?” Bil shrugged, an amused grin on his face that you found adorable “if it’ll make him talk, then it’ll make him talk” you rolled your eyes playfully at his statement, following him back to Dutch, Arthur and the poor boy tied to a tree, his pants down around his ankles, and when he saw you come over as well he turned bright red. “D-Does s-she have to watch? Please I don’t know nothing!” you couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, but then you reminded yourself that he was an O’Driscoll, he didn’t exactly deserve any kind of sympathy.

“Ain’t nothing you got I ain’t seen before kid” you scoffed, and when he realized that you weren’t leaving and you weren’t stopping them he only grew more scared, screaming and yelping out what you’d all been listening to for weeks now. “Dutch he’s really givin’ me a headache” you complained and Bill smirked at you “want me to fix it?” you smiled at him “yes please” Bill laughed and brought his heated gelders closer to the poor boy and he finally snapped “okay!! I know where O’Driscoll’s at, a place called Six Point Cabin! I can show you! Just p-please put those away!” Dutch nodded to Bill who put them away, though not in good spirit “aw don’t worry dear, maybe you can geld him some other time” you whispered, causing Bill’s ears to go bright red as he blushed, glancing at you “well here’s to hopin’” you smiled at him.

When Arthur called Bill to ride with him, along with John and the O’Driscoll, you quickly caught up to Bill, catching his wrist “I don’t like it… the O’Driscoll I mean” you whispered low, making Bill scoff “what, think I can’t take care of myself?” he got rather defensive, making you sigh “that ain’t what I’m sayin’, I’m just trying to tell you to-”

“I know how to stay safe, woman! Ain’t gotta be lectured about it from you!” he snapped, making sure his saddle was ready, he didn’t even look at you “Bill Williamson don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m only saying this because I love you, you idiot! But you’re too busy defending yourself from nothin’ to realise that! I’m asking you to be careful out there cause I want you back in one piece, so help me God! I’m an even bigger idiot than you, but at least I’m aware of it!” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking far out of his sight, leaving a shocked Bill standing frozen by his horse. It wasn’t until Arthur spoke to him that he snapped out of it, seeing both John, Arthur and the O’Driscoll looking at him, making him get flustered “damn woman” he said out loud, though he didn’t really mean it, as he saddled up, going with Arthur.

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You looked to Abigail as she nudged you, Abigail nodding towards the entry to camp, and you followed her look, seeing none other than Bill Williamson with John and the O’Driscoll, but as soon as John and Kieran was dropped off, he rode off again, and you bit your lip, looking down at the washboard in thought. Once again brought back to reality by Abigail, you sighed “I-... maybe I was too hard on him over nothing…” you mumbled, but you knew she heard you, she shook her head “no, you needed to get that off of ya chest, you love him, and you know I know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love me back…” she glanced at John and you felt a pang of guilt “I’m sorry, Abigail, at least Bill is with me… John-”

“John is… John, but I know where I stand with him at least, I love him and he doesn’t love me, but he’s still the father of my son. With you and Bill it’s… complicated. You’re together but not an item, it’s confusing, you know?” you sighed at her words, nodding your head slightly, “maybe it was too soon? Sayin’ that I love him, you know?” Abigail shrugged “do you?” you nodded in response, still looking at the washboard in silence “then it wasn't anything but right” she concluded before going back to her chore, making you think for a bit before doing the same.

It had been an hour or so since Bill rode off again, and a part of you worried, and another part of you tried to act indifferent, though that was not going to happen anytime soon. Every time you heard the sound of galloping hooves you turned your head in the direction, hoping it would be him, but it was just Arthur returning, or Charles with a dead deer on his horse. But finally you heard another set of hooves, turning your head to see the familiar horse of Brown Jack and it’s familiar owner on top, Bill Williamson, with a package on his horse. You looked away as he saddled down, hitching Brown Jack and taking the package, you missed the way he scanned the camp, his eyes scanning for you and the quick smile, which faded even quicker, once he saw you, sitting by the girls’ tent, stitching an old shirt that he recognized to be one of his own, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of you stitching up his old shirt.

He approached, thankful that you were alone before clearing his throat, the package, although rather large and not very well hidden, behind his back. You turned to look up at him, narrowing your eyes at him as he had a nervous look to him “if you’re about to tell me somethin’ then just tell me, Bill, I’m not exactly in a good mood today” you mumbled the last part, looking back down you missed the way his look softened and he looked almost guilty “well erhm… I uh-... good thing I got you this then” he showed you the package, making you study it in both curiosity and confusion, he had never brought you any gift, at least not anything else besides a wild flower or two when no one was around to see it, and usually he left before you could even say thank you, so to say that this was a new thing was an understatement “what is it?” he shuffled his feet awkwardly “well… open it up and see” he mumbled, handing you the package and sat down on a box next to you, trying to hide his excitement as you put the old shirt away and began to slowly open the packaging “I uh, felt bad about, you know… so yeah” he muttered awkwardly, clearly an indicator that he thought you took too long to open it, so you sped up a bit.

Pushing the wrapping paper aside, you saw a skirt in your favorite color, it had small patterns of flowers, big and small, woven into it with a black thread. Picking up the skirt, you saw a blouse underneath, pulling that on top to study it as well, it was white, and matched perfectly with the skirt, which was an indicator that Bill himself had not picked it out, the poor guy had no sense of fashion for men, let alone women. You let your hand run across the fabric, a smile making it’s way onto your lips as you looked back at him, pure joy in your eyes. “I-Is it alright? T-the woman at the store said that it would fit, at least I think so…” you scoffed, making him look at you like you had rejected him, but it was only until you chuckled low, now grinning at him “it’s beautiful! Thank you, Bill, I love it” you leaned over and pecked his cheek, causing him to blush like crazy, his ears turning to a whole other shade of red than you had ever seen before “I-I-... well I’m glad you like it a-and I’m sorry, about before” you giggled slightly “it’s alright Bill, you already apolo-”

“No not that… for not sayin’ it back, you know?... c-cause I do, a-a-and when I was in the army I-I remember fellas talkin’ about finding a wife and such when they got outta the army, and a lot joined the army again which I don’t get, but-... what I’m tryin’ to say is that was never me, I ain’t never thought I’d find me a woman, not in the way they were sayin’, marriage and stuff, a-and I still ain’t sure… but-... I-... damn it I ain’t good at talking!” he grew frustrated in the end, huffing annoyed which only made you hide your giggle, though he still heard it and glared slightly at you “I think I understand what you’re sayin’, Bill” you put one of your hands over his, giving it a gentle squeeze, all of his frustration leaving him when he saw the sweet look on your face, now his face was flushed for different reasons, and no longer out of frustration.

“I-.. I really do-... you know… a-and I-I know I ain’t much of a-a-a poet or a romantic but-... I will-... and I just... you know?” you smiled and nodded at him, earning you a relieved huff from the big, tough, army man. You leaned over and pressed a more meaningful peck to his cheek, feeling how hot his cheeks were under his beard, thanks to being so flushed. You looked back at the skirt and blouse, grinning and getting up, Bill looking confused “where are ya goin’?” you shrugged “I want to try out my new clothes” you giggled as he once again flushed. You went into the bushes and changed, coming back out with the new clothes on and the old in your arms, you put your old clothes down on your bedroll, watching as Bill got up, grinning like an idiot as he studied your figure and how the clothes look on you, something that made you blush this time, not him. Bill approached you and carefully, almost afraid of rejection, but his hands on your waist, looking down at you “you look real beautiful” he blushed at his own comment, making you giggle “thank you, Bill” you rested your arms on his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, when you drew back you saw his eyes were closed, and you decided to kiss him again, only this time he kissed you back, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. “I love you, you damned idiot” you mumbled into the kiss, feeling him smile slightly in return “I love you too, darlin’”. You loved the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way his beard tickled your skin and lips, how he tasted slightly of whiskey, how he smelt of gunpowder, liquor and something uniquely him, but most of all you loved Bill Williamson, and you’d be damned if you ever let him go.

#Bill Williamson #Bill Williamson x reader #bill williamson x female!reader #rdr2 #rdr2fanfic #reddeadredemption

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hiswhiteknight · 4 years ago

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Fighting with Fire – Part 1

Summary: The Reader is friends with Erin Reagan, but absolutely hates one of her brother’s. After meeting Erin for a case, Reader meets Erin’s youngest brother. But due to her hatred of a certain Reagan, the Reader isn’t necessarily warm towards the youngest Reagan.

Pairing: Jamie Reagan X Fire Fighter Reader

Words: 940

Warning: Maybe cursing, eventual angst, eventual fluff

Erin looked at you, patting you on the back, “That was one hell of a testimony, Y/N. Thank you, I think with that it’s a close case.”

“That monster deserves to be in a jail,” you both start your walk down to her office, “Plus, I love it when the defense tries to rile me, particularly when it’s a man.”

Erin chuckled at you, shaking her head, “You are the only fire fighter that takes this amount of joy in testifying.”

You wave that statement off, “No one testifies like me, you promised me a lunch, let’s go. I’m looking at places that serve breakfast all day.”

“Scrappy,” you heard a voice come from the door of Erin’s office, “What a pleasant surprise.”

You chose not to look, but stared at Erin, “I thought you said-.”

“I did,” she urged, “Danny, I thought you had lunch at the kids school today.”

“What a terrible greeting,” he walked in, taking a sit, while you chose to continue to stand not looking at him, “I did, but they had to reschedule due to something, so I thought I’d take my siblings for lunch. I sent you a text.”

Erin grabbed her phone, “Damn it, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“Sorry,” Danny said looking up to you, “You avoiding me there, Scrappy. Big bad police officer scares the dainty fire fighter.”

Within an instance, you were grabbing Danny’s shirt, “Y/N!”

You let go, watching Danny just smirk at you after not lifting a finger when you went for him, “You’re pretty cute when you get all fierce there Scrap, I see why you always the talk at those charity games.”

“Danny, you and me, a ring, and 5 minutes, I’ll have you crying like a-,” you jabbed your finger towards him.

“Like a little girl,” he smiled. “Sorry, I got a real job to do, can’t waste my time playing around a ring.” He ignored you and looked to his sister, “Ya ready there sis?”

She shook her head, “Kind of got plans, Danny.”

“Invite feisty here, I’ll even make it my treat. A reward for this cool temperament under pressure I only hear about,” he smiles at you.

“Go ahead Erin, I lost my appetite,” you collect your stuff from the corner of her office.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad,” he said to you, standing up. “Think of everything we can learn from each other,” he laughed.

“Danny,” Erin scolded him.

You glanced up at him, with your gym bag in hand, “Maybe when the Jets win the super bowl, I’ll eat food with you,” you started for the door.

“I think that might be this year, they are looking mighty good,” he urged, “I’ll pencil you in for January.”

“In you football fantasy dreams, Danny,” you started for the door, “I’ll see you at the gym Erin.”

Danny looked back at Erin, then to you, before yelling, “What are you benching now a days, 25 pounds, Scrap?”

You growled through the door way and stomped to the elevator. You continued to grumble and boil while you waited for what felt like twenty years for the elevator. You heard the ding and lurched forward to get in when someone plowed into you, “Crap, are you alright?”

“Damn it, I’m sorry,” you said, picking up some of your gym stuff that fell out. He leaned down to help pick up some of the stuff, “I don’t really process patience when I’m pissed.”

He stood back up, handing you your phone and a boxing glove, “Nah, it’s alright. I get it, had to be something pretty bad -.”

“Jamie, you met Scrappy,” Danny said from behind you. You groan and look down, before pressing the elevator button.

“Danny, shut up,” Erin urged him, “Sorry Y/N. Jamie, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is our youngest brother Jamie.”

“You’re a Reagan,” you ask him, “I’m sorry Erin, but I had enough of the male Reagans for one day.” Right as you finished that, the elevator door open and Commissioner Reagan stepped out, “Lovely, I speak too soon.”

“Y/N,” the Commissioner greeted you.

“Commissioner,” you said as you stepped into the elevator, “So long,” you waved as the elevator closed.

Commissioner looked at his kids, “What was that about?”

“Danny torturing my friend, again,” Erin smacked him, “Why can’t you leave the lady alone.”

“What,” he shrugged laughing, “I love how puffed up she gets, she’s like,” he paused to think, “What’s that bird from Snoopy?”

“Woodstock,” Jamie answered.

“Yeah,” Danny pointed, “She’s like Woodstock, it’s so easy.”

The Commissioner sighed, “Danny, you should not belittle or rile a dedicated firefighter and decorated Navy Officer. She deserves better than that,” he lectured.

“She was in the Navy,” Jamie asked, pressing the button for the elevator, “And she is a fire fighter,” he asked, “Erin, I’ve never heard you mention her before.”

“Well, as you can see she avoids Danny like the plague, but you’ve probably heard of her. She is the Fire Fighter’s heavy hitter when it comes to the charity boxing event,” Erin answered.

Danny nodded stepping into the elevator, “Yeah, she’s got game. But she is a Philly fan, so she is pretty much enemy number one and she’s one of those kitten savers.”

Their father followed them onto the elevator, “You should have invited her to lunch,” he scolded him.

“I tried, she pretty much implied she’d rather eat dirt than eat with us,” he mentioned.

Erin shook her head, “You mean, you and I wonder why.”

“Beats me, I’m sweet as pie,” he shared. Erin shook her head and thought about her friend.

PART 2

#jamie reagan x reader #jamie reagan #series #fanfiction #blue bloods #blue bloods fanfiction

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lovelymysticmoon · 4 years ago

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WIP UPDATE

Hello, It's me, I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything They say time's supposed to heal ya, but I haven't done much healing.

Ward sat in front of Fitz, his heart slowly sinking, in his hands the phone he'd broken after the call with his brother and an open switchblade. He hated everything about what he'd become, and looking at Fitz, the stark difference between the two of them only put his decisions into sharp relief. Even as he held Fitz captive, knowing Simmons was being tortured for information, he remembered looking at Fitz through the glass of the med-pod, whispering that it was a weakness that he cared... and it was still a weakness.

It was a weakness he could cover, that he could hide from himself even, one he could bury deep into his chest and never let back out. But he didn't trust himself to hide it well enough from Fitz, even as he covered his desire to go save Simmons from his colleagues with sarcastic smirks and snarky words.

"What's worse, the screaming, or the long silences between?" Ward asked, one of those defensive sarcastic smirks on his face, hiding everything he wanted to say. For him, the silences were worse. He knew what could be happening in those silences. A scream punctuated his words, and Fitz flinched, while Ward slid the phone in his pocket and started cleaning under his nails with his knife, feigning nonchalance.

"You could have been better than this." Fitz whispered, and Ward's heart caught in his throat. It was like Fitz had grabbed his insecurities in a glass covered fist, and Ward hated him for it, he hated Fitz for always being so damned good, something Ward could never do. He'd been trained into evil, there was no way he'd ever be able to be the good person Fitz clearly still thought he could be.

"But I'm not." Ward replied, looking away from those earnest eyes, the deep blue that pierced his heart and made it bleed. He'd never heard Daisy say it, but he wouldn't be able to honestly disagree with her if he had heard... The reason Ward killed wasn't because he felt nothing... he felt too much, too deeply. It had always been his weakness, but somehow it was part of Fitz's greatness, and Ward didn't understand how.

"But you could be." Fitz said, leaning forward in his restraints. "Even now you could take out all these goons and get us out of this, but you won't." Ward started to stand up, shaking his head.

"I can't-" Ward's words were interrupted by Fitz, and he sat back down slowly, to listen to that accented voice.

"You WON'T." Fitz stressed, his eyes on Ward's, trying to make Ward look at him. "You're making a choice right now not to. And Coulson's going to kill you for it." Ward turned his head to look at Fitz fully, leaning back in his chair.

"I can take Coulson." Ward said dismissively, confident in that, at least. He'd killed Rosalind Price, and Coulson was likely furious beyond belief. Fury led to mistakes, even in experienced people.

"You don't have to, Ward. I know you wanted to be a part of us again, and we didn't let you... but we don't have to be enemies either. You can choose right now to be good-"

"You really are hopeless, aren't you?" Ward demanded frustratedly, standing up, the frustration of hearing those words again too much to bear, especially when they weren't true. "You really think you can just bat your beautiful blue eyes and make me change my mind about everything?" Fitz jerked his head back at the sudden burst of emotion , but Ward wasn't paying attention. "That's so typical of you Fitz, you couldn't change my mind when I dropped you into the ocean and you're not going to change it now. It's not happening."

"You said you did that to save us..." Fitz whispered, and Ward turned around, stricken. It showed on his face, he knew, but at the moment he didn't care. There he went, his big mouth getting him into trouble again, and he looked for damage control immediately. Ward wasn't a liar by nature. Undercover was one thing, but he never liked flat-out lying, and he especially didn't like looking like a liar.

"I did! I did do that to save you! Not that anyone believed me." Something about Fitz had always awakened a part of Ward that wanted to be trusted, the way he looked at him reminiscent of his brother Tommy, who Ward desperately wanted to protect, who had rejected him, who hated him for what he'd done to Christian, to his parents.

"I believe you." Fitz said quietly. Ward stared at Fitz, a long moment of silence unbroken by either of them, nor by screams.

"You believe me." Ward deadpanned finally. "It's awfully convenient that you believe me now that I've got you in captivity, though I don't have a fancy box to drain the air out of." Fitz paled under Ward's gaze.

"I shouldn't have done that. I was wrong. I don't have anything to give you besides excuses... I know I was wrong. But I do believe you, Ward." Fitz looked so damned earnest, Ward could almost believe him. Something like a conscience bothered him as he looked at those eyes. He couldn't go back in time and save Tommy from himself... but he could save Fitz, from himself, right now. He could stop listening to the Christians of the world.

"If I get you out of this, you come with me." Fitz's breath caught. Clearly he hadn't been expecting to get anywhere with this, most likely talking to distract himself from Simmons' torture. Ward mentally slapped down the part of himself that said he couldn't, he shouldn't. He might have been trained into evil... but he could choose right now to be good.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Fitz asked slowly.

"I mean, you leave S.H.I.E.L.D." Ward said, glancing out of the doorway. "I make the screaming stop, I kill everyone in here. You explain to Simmons what's happening, and then you come with me."

"Why do you want me to come with you?" Fitz asked, breathlessly. Ward hesitated.

"Insurance." He said finally and left the room, leaving Fitz to ponder. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I've tried to tell you I'm sorry For breaking your heart, but it don't matter clearly, don't tear you apart anymore.

Ward held up his end of the bargain, taking Fitz on a quick tour until he was convinced this wasn't a trap, and he handed Fitz the knife in his hand, flipping it around so the handle faced Fitz.

"You don't have much time before SHIELD gets here. Give this to Jemma to free herself, it'll give us enough time to get out of here without her being able to follow us." Ward said as Fitz took the knife carefully, barely believing this was happening. "She's in that room. You have five minutes."

Fitz went into the room where Jemma was, nervously. He'd known he wouldn't have much time to explain. The gory scene that met him churned his stomach but he stepped forward into the room regardless of the blood pooling over the floor.

"Fitz!" Jemma said, sounding relieved, struggling in her restraints. "Ward-"

"I know." He said, kneeling next to her, ignoring the blood soaking into the knee of his slacks. "Are you badly hurt?"

"No, not terribly. He," she said, meaning the dead man, "used something like a cattle prod... It hurt, but didn't do a lot of damage. Why did Ward-"

"Kill him? Because I asked him to. Everyone is dead here but us... He proved it to me."

"..." Jemma was at a loss for words for a moment. "That was it, you asked him to and he... He just did it?"

"And now I'm going with him." Fitz nodded, pulling out the knife. Jemma blinked in disbelief.

"What, what are you doing with that knife, Fitz?" She asked, her eyes wide, and Fitz suddenly realized his error and stammered as he tried to correct it.

"Th-th-thisisforyous-s-s-soyoucan-" Fitz took a deep breath and tried again. "This is for you, so you can free yourself. I can't let you follow us." He said gently, moving around behind her and putting the knife into her hands. "He agreed to let us go if I went with him. So I'm holding up my end. Save Will, Jemma, I know you can do it. I love you." Fitz stood up, and Jemma looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"You didn't have to do that, Fitz, god, you didn't have to sacrifice yourself to that psychopath for me!"

"Yes I did." Fitz said gently. "I would sacrifice anything, for you. Don't come after us." Fitz stood up and walked out of the room. Jemma screamed after him.

"FITZ!!! FITZ, NO!!!"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Fitz stared out the window of the SUV while Ward drove, trying to swallow back the thousand and one questions that he had. Ward's face was set, determined, not boding well for Fitz's curiosity, and he had learned early on that Ward didn't much like to be talked to while driving. The trees outside were dull, but Fitz was trying to memorize every turn Ward made, just in case he had to run back to where he'd come from.

It seemed likely. Ward wasn't safe to be around, and Fitz still didn't really understand what Ward wanted with him. Fitz would be better insurance against the team hunting Ward down if he were on the team, less so in this case, where they would assume he was kidnapped, no matter what he'd said to Jemma. The turns eventually became too complicated for Fitz to remember them all and he gave up, looking straight ahead out of the windshield.

"Can we listen to music...?" Fitz asked finally, the silence wreaking absolute havoc on his anxiety.

"Check the glove box for discs." Ward replied.

"Discs." Fitz said flatly, but obediently opened the glove box to find a gun. Ward reached over and slammed the glove box shut, nearly on Fitz's fingers.

"Don't get any ideas."

"I'm not stupid." Fitz muttered, sitting back in his seat sulking. So no music, or so he thought, until Ward fiddled with the radio, one hand on the dial, driving with his knee. Fitz's heart leapt into his chest, but the car didn't swerve or anything as Ward drove, even though Ward was clearly not looking at the empty road at all. Fitz's heart was in his throat as he spoke. "I-I can do that-" Ward shot him a look, and Fitz fell silent as the car filled with music.

Talking in my sleep at night, making myself crazy Outta my mind, outta my mind Wrote it down and read it out, hoping it would save me Too many times, too many times

My love, he makes me feel like no body else, nobody else But my love, he doesn't love me so I tell myself, I tell myself

One: Don't pick up the phone, you know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone Two: Don't let him in, you'll have to kick him out again Three: don't be his friend, you know you're gonna wake up in his bed in the morning And if you're under him, you ain't getting over him

I got new rules I count 'em I got new rules I count em I gotta count 'em for myself I got new rules I count 'em I gotta count 'em for myself

I keep pushing forwards, but he keeps pulling me backwards Nowhere to turn, nowhere to turn Now I'm standing back from it I finally see the pattern I never learn, I never learn

But my love, he doesn't love me so I tell myself, I tell myself, I do I do I do

I got new rules I count 'em I got new rules I count em I gotta count 'em for myself I got new rules I count 'em I gotta count 'em for myself

Practice makes perfect, I'm still tryina learn it, but I- I got new rules I count em Eat, sleep and breathe it, rehearse it repeat it cause I- I got new I got new, I- I- I-

I got new rules I count 'em I got new rules I count em I gotta count 'em for myself I got new rules I count 'em I gotta count 'em for myself

Don't let him in, don't let him in Don't Don't Don't Don't Don't be his friend Don't Don't Don't Don't Don't let him in, don't let him in Don't Don't Don't Don't Don't be his friend Don't Don't Don't Don't You're getting over him

Fitz let the music flow over him. It wasn't his style, and he'd never heard it before, but the poppy beat was soothing in it's own way, even if it was jarring that Ward would listen to music like this at all. He always felt like Ward was a rock music kind of person, definitely not pop, but Ward didn't even make a face to indicate the music was just for Fitz.

On the other hand, Ward might just not care, it wasn't as though he was tapping along to the music or anything... was he? Fitz glanced down to his hands. No, he wasn't. As the music kept playing, Fitz zoned out, staring out the side window again and eventually fell asleep. Despite the stress and the anxiety, he was utterly exhausted.

He awoke in Ward's arms, and part of it was so warm and comforting that he didn't want to move. However, the realization of who was holding him made him go unnaturally still as he realized, and Ward promptly put him down.

"You're awake." Ward said unnecessarily. Fitz rubbed his eyes, looking up at Ward.

"Yeah." He said finally, stifling a yawn.

"Inside." Ward jerked his head towards a house. Fitz took a deep breath and headed for the door. He was well and thoroughly confused.

"Do you own-"

"Bolt hole." Ward replied curtly. "Inside." He repeated, and Fitz opened the door, heading inside. His head was buzzing with questions, but he supposed he could wait until he was inside and they were settled to ask them, as Ward still didn't seem in a talkative mood.

Fitz looked around the house, trying to turn the lights on, but Ward flipped them off immediately.

"Still tired?" Ward asked, and Fitz paused for a moment to consider, and shrugged. "I need sleep." His eyes stared Fitz down. "I can tie you down, or you can stay of your own free will." He locked the door, and it sounded like a heavy deadbolt. It would definitely be difficult to open quietly. Fitz didn't want to run though, not yet. Not until he got some answers.

"I'll stay." He promised, and Ward stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"Fine. Shower's to the left. Your eyes will adjust to the darkness, don't turn any lights on." Fitz looked down at himself. He didn't have anything to change into. Ward seemed to realize that moments afterwards, and he grimaced. "Washer and dryer is in the kitchen closet. There might be something that fits in the bedroom..." He sighed wearily and headed into the bedroom, and Fitz heard drawers opening.

After a few minutes, Ward came out.

"Can I turn on the lights in the bathroom...?" Fitz asked, as he took the clothes. Ward sighed again.

"Fine, but only for as long as you need them."

"Thanks." Fitz said, heading off to the left. He'd been given a green long sleeved shirt that naturally draped over his hands and he'd had to roll up to get his hands free and a pair of grey drawstring sweatpants he was swimming in, but he wasn't in a position to complain. By the time he was done with the shower, Ward was laying on the couch, seemingly fast asleep, a duffel bag on the floor by his feet. He sat in a chair near Ward and watched him sleep in silence for a few minutes.

"Done staring yet?" Ward asked, and Fitz nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry, I-"

"You're fine." Ward yawned and sat up. "I'm going to the bedroom now." Ward held out his hand to Fitz, and Fitz slowly took it, not sure why Ward wanted his hand, until he was dragged to his feet and pulled towards the bedroom.

"Whoa, uh, what are you doing?"

"You can get in the bed with me or I can tie you up and lay you on the bed anyway." Fitz was suddenly glad for the darkness because he knew his face would be redder than a sunburn.

"O-oh." Ward looked at Fitz, and Fitz looked up at him. "J-Just sleeping, r-right?" Ward smirked darkly and his hand came up to Fitz's chest, pressing him back against the wall, and Fitz gasped quietly as Ward's face came closer and his fist tangled into the front of his shirt. Their mouths would have slotted together perfectly, Fitz thought briefly, irrationally, but Ward leaned past his lips to his ear, and his voice was low-toned, a sexy whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

"What did you picture, Fitz? That I was so overwhelmed by how damned cute you are in my clothes that I'd have to tear them off you? I said I was tired. We're going to sleep, Fitz, just sleep. You want more than that, we can talk about it when I haven't been awake for thirty-six hours." Ward leaned his head against Fitz's slightly and turned it, the gesture oddly reminiscent of a cat nuzzling against a favourite person before pulling away.

"Get in the bed." Fitz could barely catch his breath, but he scrambled into the bed, his heart racing, but not nearly as fast as his mind. What was that about? What was wrong with himself, wanting what was on offer only hours after leaving Simmons screaming after-Ward's arm wrapped around him and pulled him in close, and Fitz lost his breath and his train of thought as he froze.

Ward's breath quickly evened out behind him, and his arm loosened slightly, fingers finding Fitz's hand as Fitz tried to carefully adjust his position and fingers twining together, and when it finally clicked, Fitz almost laughed out loud, if it weren't a dangerous prospect.

Ward was cuddling him.

Fitz had lost his damn mind; this had to be some kind of fever dream. Ward was cuddling him.

Fitz didn't know how long he laid there in silence, being the little spoon, when Ward's voice, thick and rough with sleep came from behind him.

"Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you." His breath ghosted across the back of Fitz's neck, and Fitz chuckled nervously at the words as Ward curled into him, fitting Fitz against him tightly. Fitz tried to force his body to relax, tried to imagine he was elsewhere with Jemma behind him, but he knew where he was, and his body stayed as tight as a bow string. Ward sighed once more and stroked his thumb against the back of Fitz's hand in a soothing gesture. Fitz felt long lashes against his back flutter.

"You're tired, you don't have to fuss about me." Fitz offered quietly, and heard a scoff from behind him.

"Do you know how uncomfortable it is to hold on to a brick wall?" Ward joked, and Fitz did relax a little, as he laughed quietly. "There we go. You're gonna be fine." Ward soothed, and god help him, Fitz believed it. He closed his eyes and relaxed his mind first, trying to let go of his preconceived notions of who Ward was. If Ward was really going to try to be a better person, he couldn't do it while Fitz was there, prejudiced against him. Fitz had to at least give him a chance.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ward awoke at his usual hour, 5:30, to do his morning routine, but something was off. he paused, looking down at the man in his arms. It took him a moment to orient himself, but once he had, he nodded to himself. Oddly enough, he hadn't had his usual nightmare. He'd had them off and on since he was young, though watching Kara die in his arms from shots he'd fired himself had made them a nightly occurrence.

He put it down to having a safe environment to sleep. He still had to deal with Malick otherwise this running away with Fitz would be short-lived, but for now he was safe, and Malick had no idea he'd killed off the base. If he could kill Malick before he found out, that would be optimal. He started his exercise regimen in the living room area of the house so he didn't wake Fitz.

When Fitz awoke, Ward had been up for three hours already and had cleaned the house and put Fitz's clothes into the washer after handwashing the bloodstains. Fitz yawned, and waking alone, had a moment of confusion. His arm reached out behind him, and feeling an empty bed, he got up slowly and padded quietly into the living room, then the kitchen, where Ward was perusing the pantry, checking to see what the last person to use the safe house had left.

He found a few cans of soup, luckily still in date, and was still searching when Fitz slipped in.

"Hello." Fitz said quietly, but still startled Ward, who jumped and reached for his weapon until he laid eyes on Fitz. Despite appreciating his impulses, he still rolled his eyes at himself and let go of his piece.

"Fitz." Ward said cordially, and put his head back in the pantry. Mixed vegetables, creamed corn, and gross, who ate creamed corn? He moved it aside to find a bag of odorless bars in the back, and he smirked, pulling it out and he tossed one to Fitz. "Breakfast." Fitz caught and looked at it, and his face fell.

"Are you serious?" He asked, sounding disappointed, and Ward laughed.

"No, I'm kidding, give it here." He said and took it back, handing him a can of lentil soup with roasted vegetables, and Fitz nodded.

"Much better." Fitz said, smiling awkwardly. Ward pulled his head out of the pantry entirely at the sound of Fitz's tone and looked at him.

"Hey. I know you can't be happy here with me. Just give me a chance to show you I mean what I-" Ward suddenly realized he hadn't actually said any of his thoughts aloud to Fitz. "That I mean to do better from here."

"Taking me with you wasn't a good start, Ward. The team isn't going to just let me stay with you."

"You'll go back eventually. I promise you that. I just want to prove to you-"

"Why do you want to prove anything to me?" Fitz asked, holding the soup can against his chest, his hands covered by sleeves, looking utterly adorable, and Ward crossed his arms and looked at Fitz.

"Did you know, when we did that group mission Simmons tried to murder me?" Ward asked, and Fitz's eyes went wide first, then narrowed in suspicion.

"What?"

"We're not working together now, because Simmons tried to kill me and she murdered Bakshi doing it, because he got in the way of the grenade she used that turns people to ash." Fitz paled, his eyes wide again, remembering the conversation he'd had with Simmons prior to the mission.

"She said she was taking it for self-protection..." Fitz said, his voice choked with emotion. "She said, she... she..." Fitz swallowed hard. "She said she was kidding about... using the splinter bomb on you."

"She wasn't kidding. My back was turned, I was getting a gurney for her to get Mike Peterson, and she threw it at me and killed Bakshi." Fitz slowly sat down on the floor, even paler now, looking into the distance, and Ward crouched down to his level.

"Daisy told me you wanted to give me a chance after everyone else had given up on me. That's why I have something to prove to you. I can trust you to give me that chance. No one else would." Fitz clutched the soup can to his chest tighter, clinging to it like a lifeline. "No one else tried. But you, you stopped yourself from killing me. Because you're not a killer, Fitz." Fitz tried to blink away tears before they could form but Ward could see them on his lashes, even as Fitz avoided eye contact.

"Daisy told me you were a hero, because you wanted to give me that chance." Ward moved to try to catch Fitz's gaze, and Fitz looked up at him slowly. "If you still want to give me that chance, I'm here for it. If you don't, I get it. I understand. You can leave, you can even take the car."

Fitz met Ward's soft brown eyes, which were usually stone cold, but Fitz could see a warmth in them, an unguarded, trusting look on Ward's face unlike any expression he'd ever seen the man have before.

"You said you brought me here for insurance." Fitz said quietly, drinking in that look that was almost innocent, nearly drowning in those warm doe brown eyes, searching them for a hint of guile, for any trace of the murderer he knew was in there, but at the moment he couldn't see it.

"I did say that." Ward said, refusing to break their intense eye contact, willing Fitz to believe him. "I needed to tell you something you'd understand with the limited time we had. But you are insurance. Insurance for me to change, not against SHIELD. I want you here to remind me why I want to do better. Right after I kill someone else." Those warm eyes seemed to shutter closed as soon as Ward said that, as Ward remembered Malick and the danger he presented to them both.

"Wait, what?" Fitz said, jarred out of the stunned reverie he'd been in, in some fantasy la-la-land where Ward was capable of being a better man, how fucking gullible was he? The can he was holding clacked hard on the ground as Fitz put it to the side. "You can't say you want to be a better person and i the next breath say you're going to kill someone, Ward, it doesn't work like that!"

"This person is a danger to both of us, and to SHIELD. The minute he finds out what I did, he'll come after me, and, by default, you. I can't let that happen." Ward said, and with a hard expression on his face, left the room.

"Let me get in contact with SHIELD, you tell me where he is and they can take care of it." Fitz said, thinking quickly as he chased Ward into the living room, where he'd already begun pacing. Fitz hadn't realized he'd already made the choice to help Ward until the words came out of his mouth. "We can go someplace away from here to make the call and use a burner phone, and they will get him." He reached for Ward's arm and Ward stopped at the contact. "You want me to help you, Ward, the killing stops now." Fitz said desperately, and Ward looked at Fitz.

"Let me be clear Fitz, Gideon Malick is a tyrant, and the current leader of Hydra. Keeping him alive will only make this," Ward gestured between the two of them, "And my want to prove myself, that much harder-"

"WARD!" Fitz pulled his hand back and crossed his arms, trying to look commanding, and somehow managing despite the fact that it should be adorable, Fitz standing there in oversized clothes, Ward still stood a little bit straighter and listened. "Stop. Stop right now. Change isn't meant to be easy. Trust me. I know what I'm doing." When Ward's eyebrow raised, Fitz scrambled to continue to speak. "Okay, I don't exactly know what I'm doing with you, but I want you to trust me. We can't get anywhere if you can't trust that I know at least a little bit more than you about what is right and what is wrong, okay?"

"Shield has been killing Hydra for years. It shouldn't matter." Ward said, a confused expression crossing his face. Confusion was good, Fitz could work with confusion better than anger or frustration.

"If that's true, you should be dead too. Look. You can explain away a whole lot of killing by saying you're killing the right person, Ward. Let someone else do it. Stay with me." Fitz said eagerly, and Ward was suckerpunched by that earnest, honest tone. "Stay with me." Fitz repeated quieter this time, not sure what he was reading in Ward's face, and honestly a little wary of it. He certainly wasn't expecting Ward to grab his shoulders and stare into his eyes as though searching for the answers to the universe in them.

Ward didn't seem to find what he was looking for as Fitz stood there, slightly slack-jawed, his eyes starting to water again, this time from the grip Ward had on him. "Ward...?" Fitz asked, all the backbone he'd had earlier slipping away the longer Ward held him, and Ward looked away finally and scoffed quietly, shaking his head as he let go. Fitz's legs were jello, and he sat down hard. What had that been about?

"I never learn, I never learn." Ward mumbled to himself, and Fitz shook his head, unsure where that had come from.

"Ward...?"

"You should go. I can't do this. I was wrong." He tossed Fitz the car keys and reached for the duffel. Fitz crossed the room and grabbed Ward's arm again, and Ward's hand came up and grabbed Fitz by the throat on reflex. Fitz refused to let go of Ward's arm, despite the hold Ward had, summoning from somewhere deep inside himself the strength to stare him down.

"You know what, Ward, I'm not scared of you." He shoved Ward, hard, forcing him to drop his grip as he stumbled back several steps. "You want to go kill this man, you won't let me help you right now, fine. I'm going with you." He jabbed his finger into Ward's chest, startling the man further. "And you're going to do things my way. When WE'RE, done, I'm still going to be here. I'm NOT giving up on you. So you can deal with that, or you can run away, but I WILL find you." Fitz shoved Ward again, tumbling him ungracefully into a chair. "When Simmons went missing, I scoured this entire planet for clues to how to get to her, and I fucking figured it out and got her back from a goddamned alien planet, you won't be that fucking hard for me to find, no matter how well you think you can hide."

Ward studied Fitz face and eyes for any of that vulnerability he always had and at the moment he couldn't find anything but willpower and confidence. It was surprising to say the least, but he was glad that fitz was standing up for himself. He nodded finally and spoke. "Alright Fitz we do it your way first. But if this goes south, we do it my way, agreed?"

#leo fitz #good boy leo fitz #FITZWARD #grant ward redemption #grant ward #Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#agents of shield #aos #fanfiction #fanfic

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zephyrofalltrades · 4 years ago

Text

Day 9: Possession

CW: Partial demonic possession, strangulation, self-harm, graphic depictions of demonic wounds, swearing

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Aziraphale tugged at the hem of his sweater vest looking at the old abandoned house at the side of the road.

“I like spooky-looking places remember?” Crowley said pulling out his camera from the back seat of his car. “Besides, this place is aesthetic - perfect for my photography class!” he grinned as he looked back at his friend.

“Yes, well, I also heard demons live there,” the blonde shivered.

“Demons aren’t real, angel. They’re just the construct of bed time stories and the magic of cinematography,” he hummed tying his long red locks so as not get caught in the camera straps. “Besides, we’ll be out of there before you could say 'tickety-boo',” he laughed.

"I've got supplies, just in case." Aziraphale piped up, taking out a crucifix, a rosary then a water pistol from his pockets. He patted the last with reverence. "Holiest of holy waters," he announced proudly. "From a bottle my parents got when they visited the Vatican then promptly forgot in a box in the garage."

Crowley bit his tongue from making a comment. He'll be damned if he'll ruin the blonde's fun. But he ought to show a little bout of annoyance to keep his image.

Crowley rolled his eyes at the paraphernalia, and held out the crucifix. "Planning to play as an exorcist dressed like that?" the red-head gestured to his cream sweater vest and tan trousers.

"Hopefully, it won't come to an exorcism," the other sniffed. "Which reminds me, give me your arm."

"Which one?" Aziraphale shrugged so he cast in his right.

The blonde took the rosary and wound it around a sinewy wrist, knowing that the red-head would cuss vehemently if he hung it around his neck. "There," he said with a wiggle. Crowley felt the charged contact and his brain was fried for a moment or two before his senses came back. Looking ridiculous was a small price to pay to keep his angel happy.

Soon they managed to finally step out to the door and let themselves in. It was a usual haunt for teens giving innocent dares or those with questionable hobbies. The graffiti was everywhere.

“Oh demons! Come say 'hello!'” Crowley giggled as they entered.

“I don’t think you should do that, Crowley. What if it gets mad?”

“Aww, come on angel, the demon can’t get mad because it’s not real!” he laughed aloud, earning a huff from his friend.

After a few shots of the main rooms, the pair decided to venture down the basement. It had the standard level of spookiness with an added bonus of a crudely scribbled occultist's pentagram in one of the musty corners. He gave the blonde a mischievous look and proceeded to flop himself down unto the floor, torso in the middle of the drawing.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale hissed.

"Hey, demons!" the red-head called. "Come get me!"

"Oh dear, please don't…" his friend's voice trembled.

"It's just a bit of fun, angel," he complained, but got up anyway to dust himself off. "If there are demons, they ought to show themselves more if they want to be known. Waste of time to just keep hiding in the dark, if you ask me."

His left hand suddenly came up to slap his cheek.

"Shit! That stings! What the fu-" another slap.

"Crowley, what are you doing? Is this another one of your pranks?"

"This isn't me! This is -" The hand grabbed hold of his sunglasses and threw it against a wall, hard enough to shatter the lenses and bend the frame. "Oi! Those were new!"

The sunglasses were the last straw, Aziraphale knew then that his friend wasn't playing a game. He took his crucifix and advanced towards Crowley. "Now you listen here," he addressed the limb, which Crowley was restraining with his other hand from punching himself in the face again. "Leave him alone!"

They heard an unearthly chuckle from all around them and the room's darkness felt heavier than before.

The blonde jumped and whirled about, searching for the voice's source. Before he could turn back to Crowley however, the errant hand slapped the wrist holding on to the crucifix. The wood fell from his grip but a part of it touched the demonic palm.

Crowley yelped and the hand recoiled. "That burned!" he said more out of surprise than actual pain. They could try exorcising his arm! But how? he thought frantically. Before he could think of a plan, the limb grabbed for a new target.

This time he watched his hand curl around the blonde’s throat. “Stop! No!” he screamed, but his limb took no heed. Aziraphale was holding on to it with both hands to no avail, lifting him from the ground.

Crowley pressed the rosary hanging from his right wrist at it but although it stung the same way, it didn't make it let go of the blonde. Panicked, he looked for the crucifix but it had been knocked far from his reach.

"Po-pocket," Aziraphale gasped out, still doing his best to pry the fingers away.

With wide eyes, Crowley searched his friend's pockets. His fingers touched plastic. The handle of the water pistol. He hoped it was holy enough to combat the demonic arm. He snatched it and pulled the trigger, first aiming at the hand then soaking the rest of his arm for good measure. The pain blinded him but he kept going, wringing every drop of the holy water from the toy. Finally, the fingers slackened.

Aziraphale fell to the floor gasping and watch as his attacker jerked in pain. The skin of Crowley's arm was steaming a sickly green. Bumps were forming from underneath, cracking the skin then popping to excrete a blackish sludge, oozing down to the floor.

Crowley tried not to howl but he couldn't suppress the whimpers. He retched as the smell of sulfur and decaying flesh reached his nostrils. Finally succumbing to the torture, he fainted.

When he woke, the first thing he saw was a crucifix nailed high on clean white walls. He grimaced at it before turning his head to look at the rest of the room. Cots were lined along the walls. It was a ward, he surmised, burrowing beneath the blankets once more and hissing as the sheets slid against his heavily bandaged arm.

"Ah, you're finally awake," came a voice from the other end of the room. A nun was striding towards him with a pitcher of water, a glass, cups and a pot of tea. Behind her was a smiling Aziraphale clutching a tin of biscuits. "Gave us all a fright you, did," the nun chastised. "We patched your friend up as best we could, but you were worse for wear."

She took the pitcher and poured him a glass. He did his best to not choke as he gulped the liquid down. He looked up to find both nun and blonde peering at him curiously.

"Wot? I was thirsty," he said defensively.

Aziraphale chuckled. "It appears you're good to go dear boy. If drinking holy water doesn't bother you, then we have nothing more to worry about."

#racket's 13 days of halloween #good omens fanfiction #good omens #with buzzfeed supernatural elements #i just had to #human au #my fics

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that-winged-rat · 4 years ago

Text

Redemption

Redemption ~ Part 2

*not my gif*

Summary: The group get closer to finding Mary and Jack; Y/N’s past comes to light.

Pairing: None

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline, Mary Winchester (mention of).

Warnings: Angst, implications of torture, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts, alcohol.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Okay! Part 2 of Redemption! I’m not sure if there’s going to be a part three or not, but if people ask for it, I’ll most likely do it. Feedback is always encouraged and welcomed! Enjoy :)

Read Part One HERE

An hour later and Y/N and Dean had subconsciously changed the ‘one glass’ rule to the ‘one more glass’ rule until it turned into one bottle. Dean was barely tipsy, whereas the alcohol had a different affect on the cambion, surprisingly.

“Are you drunk? I thought you would have like, immunity or something,” Dean said, taking another drink from his glass.

“I’m just a little tipsy,” Y/N said, her words slurring together slightly. “This is my first drink in about... sixty years?”

Dean saw an opportunity. “How come?”

He frowned, watching as she completely sobered up as soon as the question left his mouth. She pursed her lips, contemplating telling him or not. “That... is a story for another time,” she said, putting her wall back up.

“Oh, come on! You just gonna leave me in suspense?”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” she replied with a smirk. Dean looked in his glass as he took it from his lips.

“Can I ask you a question?” Dean asked.

“Depends on what the question is,” she said.

“Why do you live in the woods on your own? I mean, doesn’t it get lonely?”

She hesitated for a moment and Dean knew she was constructing an answer that wouldn’t reveal any personal information. “Because why the hell not? And I’m not a people-person so, loneliness isn’t an issue.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

Y/N glared at him. She finished her glass and put it down on the table before walking from the war-room to the library, and Dean knew he hit a nerve.

By the time Sam and Cas got back from their supply run, Y/N had opened a few more portals, though none of them were the right one. But with each one she opened, she grew more tired. Deciding it was a good time to take a break, she flopped down on an armchair, falling asleep almost instantly.

“She’s hiding something,” Dean said as he looked over at her sleeping form. Him, Sam and Cas were sitting at the long library table.

“Definitely,” Sam agreed. “Oh yeah, apparently... she’s been at the bunker before,” he said in a hushed voice, careful not to wake her up.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. She said that Men of Letters got all of their cambion lore from her. I’m pretty sure they tortured her here.”

Dean looked over at her again, slightly twitching in her sleep. “Another thing: she got real touchy and defensive when I asked her about why she lived on her own.”

Cas frowned and looked up to Dean. “I’m not sure exactly what went down, but I know that something happened years ago and she accidentally killed a group of people. I’m pretty sure that’s when she moved to the woods. No one heard from her after that, until now. Everyone thought she was dead.”

Now it was Sam who looked over at her, brows furrowed. “How long ago was that?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. Over fifty years at least.”

Dean was about to say something about what Y/N had said earlier about not having a drink in about sixty years and thought that maybe it was connected, but stopped himself when she stirred. The boys thought that she had just woken up, but they didn’t know that she had heard their whole conversation about her.

When they saw her wake up, Sam and Cas each opened a book that was in front of them, while Dean opened his laptop, not so subtly acting innocent. Even if Y/N didn’t hear what they were saying, she would’ve known that they were talking about something that she wasn’t supposed to hear.

She stretched and stood up before walking away, gaining the attention of Dean.

“Where you going?”

“If you must know, I have to pee,” she said over her shoulder as she kept walking.

“You good to keep going?” Sam asked once she got back to the library.

“Yeah.” She did her stuff and opened yet another portal. She stuck her head through like she had done plenty of times before. But instead of seeing something that wasn’t Apocalypse World, she saw the landscape that Sam had described to her.

Y/N came back and turned around with a smile on her face, raising her arms to her side, as if expecting a hug, when she got the attention of the three men. “Am I the best, or what?”

They all stood up in synchrony. “You found it?” Sam asked urgently. She put her arms back down.

“I found it,” she repeated.

“Are you serious?” Dean asked.

“Well, I have no reason to lie to you, but if you don’t believe me, see for yourself,” she said and stepped aside, letting Sam, Dean and Cas go through and see the ruined world.

“You actually found it.”

“You sound surprised, Sam.”

“Okay, enough with the doubt,” Dean said. “We’ll go pack some stuff and get going. You–” he pointed at Y/N– “are gonna stay here and make sure that that–” he moved his finger to point at the portal– “doesn’t shut by the time we get back. Got it?”

She saluted jokingly. “Aye aye, Captain.”

The three of them went their separate ways, packing necessities for their rescue mission. They returned a few minutes later, each with a duffel bag. Dean went over a few things with Y/N before he followed Sam and Cas into the glowing orange light.

---

Six hours later and Y/N was still sitting at the library, reading a book that was written in Latin. She had absolutely no idea what any of it said, but had fun trying to pronounce it, nonetheless.

She noticed a flashing light out of the corner of her eye, and she was about to get up to recharge the portal, but Dean jumped through, followed by Cas, then an older woman and a younger man. Then, to Y/N’s surprise, about twenty other people. And last but not least, Sam.

She walked over to the younger Winchester, who was placing his bag on a table. “Did you find them?” She asked.

“Yeah. They’re just over there with Dean and Cas,” he said, nodding his head over to where Dean and the angel was with the older lady and the boy.

Y/N nodded and looked around at the many people who now occupied the large space. “Looks like you found... a lot more than just your mom and your friend.”

Sam chuckled. “Uh, yeah. They don’t really have much of a world left. They deserve a second chance,” he said and Y/N nodded. Sam cleared his throat. “Um, me and Dean were talking and we thought that... maybe we could give you a second chance as well.”

Y/N frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We mean that we're not going to help you die.” She turned around to see Dean. Jack was standing next to him, staring at Y/N, his eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted.

“What? Why the hell not? We had a deal,” she exclaimed angrily.

Sam and Dean looked to each other. “You helped us. And you shouldn’t die–you shouldn’t want to die.”

She laughed incredulously. “The only reason I helped you was because of what we agreed on; I help you get your mom and friend back, and you help me look for a way to die. That was the deal.”

Jack spoke up, “What are you?” He asked.

Y/N looked to him. “Damn pissed, that’s what I am,” she said through gritted teeth before looking back at the brothers.

Sam sighed. “Does it have anything to do with what happened to all those people years ago?” Y/N stared at him in confusion. “Cas told us what happened.”

She laughed again and looked down to the ground. “Yeah, trust me, he doesn’t have the slightest idea about what happened with those people.”

“We just want to help,” Sam said.

“You would be helping if you didn’t chicken out! I wouldn’t ask for it if I didn’t want it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to die?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to die?”

She sighed, “I have been through so much crap in my long ass life. And I just want it to be over.” Sam looked at her through sympathetic eyes. “But you guys won’t let that happen, will you? So I’ll be on my merry way. Thanks for nothing,” she spat out before walking through the sea of people and up the stairs, leaving the bunker.

“That went well,” Dean deadpanned. Sam sighed and went to go and talk to Mary.

---

Jack stared up at the cabin, confused on how anyone could live in those conditions. He stood there for another moment before walking up the stairs and up to the door. He didn’t bother knocking as he stepped inside the dilapidated building.

“Hello? Y/N?” He called out cautiously. He walked around the cabin, leaving the living room and entering the kitchen.

“What do you want?” He spun around at the female voice, seeing Y/N leaning against the now intact wall joining the kitchen and the dining room.

“I just–I just came to talk.”

“Well, too bad, because I’m not here to listen, Bambi,” she said, walking away.

“What are you?” Jack asked again, hoping for a different answer than ‘pissed’. She stopped walking and turned around to face him.

“I’m a Cambion. And you’re a Nephilim.” Jack tilted his head, silently asking how she knew that. “You’re not the first one I’ve come across, buddy.”

Jack looked around and noticed a cluster of boxes on the floor near the front door. How he missed them on the way in was beyond him.

“Where... where are you going?” He asked.

“Well, apparently nobody gets the memo that I want to be left alone, so I am moving away. Somewhere hopefully no one will be able to find me,” she said, closing her eyes and imagining the blissful solidarity.

“You’re lying,” Jack said, causing Y/N to open her eyes and sigh. “You don’t want to be alone. You’re scared.”

She tilted her head, looking slightly amused. “And how would you know that, Mr. Psychologist?”

“I can tell when people lie,” he said, matter of fact.

“Is that so?” Before Jack could interrupt, she continued talking. “Well then, maybe you can tell me what I’m so afraid of.”

“Yourself,” he said, not missing a beat.

She hesitated for a minute and visibly swallowed. “You’re just like Sam, you know? Too damn nosey for your own good.”

“You didn’t deny it. Why are you scared of yourself?” He asked, taking a step closer to her as his eyes glowed a bright yellow. “Tell me the truth.”

Y/N found herself incapable of moving as Jack placed his hands on her temples. Golden veins travelled up her cheeks and turned her eyes the same colour. And before she could stop herself, she was telling him everything.

“August 3rd 1965. I was taken by a demon who claimed to be my father. He... he got inside my head. Brainwashed me. Made me kill dozens upon dozens of people, because he wanted to see what I was truly capable of. During that time, I killed friends, people I considered family, and people I didn’t even know. A week later, I broke free and I killed my father. Then one night I was at a bar, getting drunk, trying to forget the things I had done, and someone accidentally spilled their drink on me. I got angry and before I knew what was happening, people were screaming and I killed an innocent man. I became the thing I was trying so hard not to be. So I bought this cabin and made it so that if anyone were to come in, it would look abandoned and they wouldn’t be able to find me unless I wanted them to. When Sam and Dean came to get me, that was the first time I had left here since I bought it.”

Jack let his hands fall back down to his side and Y/N gasped, stumbling back and catching herself on the wall. Jack felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over him when he saw the betrayal in Y/N’s eyes as she looked at him.

“Get out,” Y/N demanded, her eyes set and her jaw clenched.

“Y/N, I just–”

“I said get out!” She repeated more firmly, not taking her gaze away from him.

But Jack didn’t move, only angering Y/N more. He was about to apologize but by the time the words were leaving his mouth, he was alone. There was no sign of Y/N, or that she even lived there; the cabin had returned to it’s former state and all the boxes that were by the front door were gone.

He sighed and pictured the outside of the bunker, before it appeared in front of him.

---

Part Three!

Tagged: @supernaturalenchanted

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highqueenofelfhame · 5 years ago

Text

if i had a soul to steal - twelve.

as always before we get started: thank you to my sun and stars @starseternalnighttriumphant (who happens to be sitting next to me) for literally being the only reason I get anything done and get things even a little organized. she helped me map out this chapter and part of the next and i don’t know what i would do without her. if you’re not following her - you should be, and you should be reading her fics by clicking here to go to her master list. my favorite is bad intentions because i’m a slut for rowan calling aelin Golden Girl.) anyway, lets jump right into it.

It was late. A few hours past midnight and Rowan had finally succeeded in soothing Aelin to sleep after the shocking revelation that had shaken the both of them. Now, he stood in front of the conspiracy board she had so cleverly crafted with pictures and string and handwritten notes that were crumpled and smudged with ink.

Rowan tried to imagine what it was like for his wife to have such thick blank spaces in her mind, massive walls of obsidian that kept her from remembering what had really happened to her. And to think she had killed someone. Rowan knew it had to have been with good reason— Aelin wasn’t a murderer, she was—

A blood curdling scream had him flying to the bedroom. The gun at his side was drawn and pointed as he all but kicked down the door and swept the room but the only threat seemed to be whatever it was that Aelin thought she was seeing or hearing or feeling.

“ROWAN!” Her eyes were wide and wild. The way she was screaming was raw and primal that whatever threat she perceived had to be shaking her to her absolute core. She screamed his name again, the sound inhuman. It was purely animal the way she was screaming for him, the way she was begging the invisible threat to let him go. That she would do anything, anything—

“Fireheart,” he said as calm as he could, despite the flame roaring through his veins. Carefully, he placed his gun on the table and approached her, hands out in front of him defensively. “Love, I need you to listen to me. Can you hear me?”

“Rowan?” Broken. Both syllables of his name were broken as she sobbed, and reached blindly in the direction of him. “Did he hurt you? What did he do? I said I would— I said —” she sobbed again when her hands touched his abdomen and her forehead fell to rest on his chest. The way she was speaking told him that she wasn’t here, not really. Aelin was somewhere else entirely, somewhere that he couldn’t pull her out of until she was released from the hold her mind had taken over her.

“Tell me what you see, love. Tell me what you hear.” Rowan took her face in his hands gently and tilted her head back to look at her, to really look at her. Devastation and exhaustion was written all over her features, features that were drained of color. Even her eyes— those brilliant Ashryver eyes— seemed dim and almost empty. This nightmare, this hallucination, whatever it was felt entirely like the real thing to her, he realized. “Can you see me?” She nodded, brow furrowing. “Tell me what you see. What you hear. And what you feel.”

“It’s cold. Sometimes it’s so hot that I can’t breathe but today it’s— can’t you feel how cold it is? I feel like I’m going to freeze to death,” her voice was barely a whisper, eyes following the trail of something Rowan could not see. Where he touched her arms, her hands, she was clammy. Her skin was cold and damp like her body was struggling to regulate itself.

“The floor—”

“What kind of floor?” He hadn’t meant to cut her off but it could be important information.

“It’s concrete. It’s— I— it’s all concrete. You don’t see it?” Not as important as he would have liked, but she could believe that she was in the room he found her in. She was frowning again as her glassed-over eyes scanned the room, scanned what she knew to be hard and damp concrete when in reality she was kneeling on a soft mattress in the middle of their cabin in the woods. “It’s—”

But then she stopped talking and froze up completely, screamed Rowan’s name like she was about to lose him so he did the only thing he could think of that might possibly ground her. He grabbed her face and kissed her— a slow and sweet kiss that had her tight muscles melting under his touch.

“I’ve got you, love. I’m here. We’re okay.”

“We’re— I’m going crazy,” she breathed, pressing her face into his neck and squeezing her eyes shut. A sob shuddered through her body. “I’m going out of my mind. I’m going absolutely insane and you were there Rowan, you were there but you weren’t there and I wasn’t here but I was here. What happens if I get stuck in the inbetween? What happens if I lose myself completely and can’t see my way out and you’re not around to pull me out of it? What happens then?”

Rowan didn’t have an answer, and he hated it. Hated that his wife, his love, was going through such unimaginable things. Hated that being pulled out of the tank seemed to be just the beginning when it came to her story and he so desperately wanted to just end it but he didn’t know how. There were no leads on who was doing this to her, every time she tried to remember a face it as just blank. There was nothing there, as if he had sawed his way into her memory and taken the most pertinent pieces that would lead to her innocence, that would lead to her being completely and truly free.

~*~

It was a very specific fear to be scared of your own mind. To be trapped inside the cage that was your head, to not be able to escape the pain. She was a faerie trapped in an iron box, a prisoner in shackles. It was even worse when there were holes of time you couldn’t make up, holes of time where you had apparently murdered people, and not be able to remember even a second of it.

Over and over she found herself asking how she would ever come back from this. How she could ever step out of the darkness, how she could ever bathe in sunlight when she was covered in layers of oil and grime from years in captivity. Tonight had only proved it, that she would wake to unspeakable things, that she should remember unspeakable things and feel them so vividly as if she were still locked twenty feet underground in a cement hole.

How could she ever trust herself around Willow? How would she know that she wouldn’t hurt her if they slept in the same bed or napped on the couch? How could she ever trust herself to be a good mother when PTSD wrecked her so hard on a daily basis? That she tried to fight her own husband on occasion because she couldn’t tell fiction from reality?

Aelin nuzzled her face into Rowan’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and snow, breathed him in until it grounded her where she lay in his arms.

Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. They were in a cabin in the woods. Not unlike the cabin she had been kept in where she had been tortured and nearly drowned to death until Rowan had pulled her out.

Aelin thrashed once in Rowan’s arms and his grip immediately tightened around her.

She was in a cement room, locked inside a tank. She had murdered at least one person. She was drowning in a tank. She had murdered a man. Blood, bright and sticky on her hands, smeared along the concrete—

No. No. She was in a cabin. In the woods. With Rowan. Deep breath. In through her nose, out through her mouth. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Deep breath.

Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. They were in a wood cabin in the woods just past the border of Terrasen and Adarlan. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was her husband. They had a daughter named Willow, who was the perfect mixture of the two of them.

Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius and she would not be afraid.

~*~

Nightmare after nightmare seemed to plague Aelin for the first two hours of sleep until she finally seemed to fall into a deeper state that allowed Rowan to relax. Half the night she thrashed in his arms, only for him to tighten his grip. He would not allow anything to hurt or harm her under his watch ever again. Not even her dreams.

So when she whimpered and shook, he held her tighter, he kissed her brow, he whispered long forgotten songs into her ear that she loved so much until finally, hours later, she fell into a restful sleep. He knew because that damned wrinkle between her eyes was softened— not gone, but softened like it never was when she was awake these days. The wrinkles of her forehead weren’t present, she wasn’t frowning. The curve of her lips was almost happy, and he couldn’t help but press the softest of kisses to her mouth with an effort not to wake her.

He failed, because her eyes fluttered until they opened, but she smiled and tilted her head back slightly in request for another kiss that he was more than willing to give her. When he pulled back she rubbed her eyes sleepily and turned to glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Her voice was gravelly, if a bit raw from screaming so much earlier. Rowan shifted and grabbed the last bottle of water from his side of the bed and handed it to her. She drank it all in almost one go.

“I need to go into town for more supplies. I was going to wait until you woke up.”

“You can go now. I’ll be okay,” she said, tucking her hands beneath her head and looking up at him with tired eyes. Rowan reached out and trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose, over the shape of her lip. When she caught it with her teeth, the laugh that he huffed out was involuntary.

“I don’t want to leave you.” While your nightmares are so horrible was what he didn’t have to say, she likely knew it was what he meant. But she shrugged, waved a hand dismissively, and leaned forward to kiss him again.

“I’ll be fine for a few hours,” she whispered against his lips. “And I will prove how good I am when you get back.” Desire spread through him and he kissed her again, deepening it by sweeping his tongue into her mouth and rolling on top of her but she shoved him off with a loud cackle. “I said when you get back you horny asshole.”

Rowan chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to the base of her throat and said, “We have years to make up for.” But he got out of bed anyway.

It was early morning, and with the mist shrouding the woods he knew it would be a little chilly so he dressed to be warm, ending his ensemble with a beanie tugged low over his ears. Before he left, he leaned down to kiss her again but found her already sleeping, and instead left a kiss on her forehead, silently praying that good dreams would keep her safe until he returned.

~*~

Being an hour away from the cabin while in town had started to drive him crazy, but they had been low on food and Aelin had guzzled the last bottle of water so supplies had been a desperate need. While down in the little village, Rowan grabbed food and water, first aid supplies, and even a few different changes of clothes and undergarments in the likelihood that they would need to do laundry at some point, but he didn’t want to have to spend money they didn’t need to at a laundromat. Rowan had hopes of getting her name cleared and taking her home before they became that desperate.

Almost as soon as he drove through the clearing of trees he could tell something was wrong.

Before he even had the car stopped he noticed the front door cracked open, knowing that Aelin wasn’t dumb enough to leave it open even if she just wanted fresh air. Open doors were easier to sneak into than closed ones, and regardless of why it was open now had ice freezing Rowan’s veins until his blood stopped pumping.

He didn’t bother turning the car off, just threw it in park and ran inside. The fallen pine needles had him slipping on the terrain but he didn’t let it slow him down too much even when he nearly crashed onto the ground. A gun in each hand, he cleared the first room before bursting into the bedroom. Relief and fear flooded him all at once.

For standing at the foot of the bed was Aelin, covered in blood and silent tears with a shaky gun pointed at Fenrys Moonbeam.

@city-of-fae @maastrash @stormymeow @nish247 @shyvioletcat@highladyofnothing-yet@schmlip-scribble@abigailmadeline @a97girl@legallyhermione@illyrianbeauty @starseternalnighttriumphant @musicmaam @city-of-fae @kandasboi @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @tangledraysofsunshine @nalgenewhore @lorcansalvaterree @valarian-trash @hey-its-grey @sleeping-and-books @thephilosophyofblank @breezyfreezey @westofmoon @tonystarksbish @mariamuses @thereaderandfangirl @silvermindedwarrior @rosesandglass @xxhopelesspeachesxx @maraadyyer @flowerspringsea @the-bookloving-girl @vartinehd @mis-lil-red @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @dreamcatchersimss

#iihasts #if i had a soul to steal #iihasts12 #rowaelin #rowaelin au #tog #tog au #throne of glass #throne of glass au #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

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janetbrown711 · 5 years ago

Note

“Do you have any idea how many secrets they’re keeping from you?” Said by anyone, to Huey

They said letting go or facing your worst fear face to face was the first step to recovery. Who ever they were, Huey thought they were right. He had felt a lot better since staring Clarisse down and telling her to get out of his life.

But still... those words she said, they were so ominous and promising. You'll regret this. A part of him would like to see her try to hurt him again now that he was with his whole family, but the other half knew she found ways.

She always did.

But that was in the past. He wasn't with her.

What was happening now was good. It was growth. It was change. Change with a sort of cause behind it.

He was gonna be an uncle.

Boy those words sure felt odd. Came out of nowhere too, but hey, he had been gone for... forever. So...

But hey, he had a reason to stop drinking.

...but he still couldn't do it.

The detox was just... the worst thing he had ever gone through.

He'd try so, so, so hard, but it was just... so much. He would try for a few days but then get sweaty, anxious, start seeing her again and those damned words whispered in his ear, and he would go mad trying to find a drink. It was torturous. He just couldn't do it.

Then she got her revenge.

And she got it in the best way possible.

"Still awake?" Dewey asked. Huey looked at his watch and realized it was two a.m. he nodded.

"You're dressed though..." Dewey eyed him.

"Your point?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I'm not accusing you of anything... but if you're going to go do what i think you're going to go do, then you better not be," Dewey accused.

"Hey," Huey got defensive, "I'm going to drink i just-... need some fresh air," he huffed and put his hands in his pockets.

"You can get that here. We can go out to the balcony if you want and just have a nice chat til your insomnia wears out and you can sleep," Dewey suggested.

"You say that like it's easy," Huey twitched.

"I know, i know, I'm the only one who doesn't get it. C'mon, it'll do you some good," Dewey put a hand on his shoulder.

"Mmm... maybe one walk around the mansion. Not sure if I uh... trust myself with balconies right now. Specially since most have a mini cooler with what im trying to avoid here," Huey scratched the back of his neck.

"True true. C'mon let's go," Dewey and Huey walked down the stairs. Dewey went off to the side to grab a coat while Huey opened the door and waited.

"You ready yet?" Huey rubbed his forehead.

"Har har, safety first," he rolled his eyes as he zipped his jacket. Huey turned to walk out when he saw a box with a note that read "Huey" on the outside. He picked the note up and opened it.

"It.

Clari~"

"What you got there?" Dewey peered behind him. Huey ignored him, picking up the box and taking it inside, setting it softly on a table.

"It?" Dewey read aloud.

"This... must be the thing she said I'd regret later..." he realized.

"Do... do you want to open it?" Dewey asked. Huey pondered a bit before nodding.

"Best we get it over with," he didn't quite believe himself but the words were spoken so he opened it nonetheless.

Inside was an egg.

An egg.

Huey's brain filled with so much panic and questions that he couldn't process them all. He stepped back and away from it, unable to react any other way.

"Y-you don't think-...?" Dewey left the question up in the air.

"I-i..." Huey ran fingers through his hair as he tried to think.

"But we don't know if it's- well... ya know... yours, per se," Dewey tried to put a spin on it but Huey shook his head.

"Couldn't be anyone else's. I-it... it... it's..." Huey couldn't finish his sentence.

"But you don't... know that. I'm just- do you even know how many secrets she may be keeping from you?" Dewey thought the words would be comforting but they weren't. Huey didn't respond, but his eyes quickly filled with tears but he burst out laughing.

"Oh of course! This is what she does for her grand finale!" He shook his head, tears now streaming down his face. "She leaves me with one last job. One final reminder that i am nothing without her or her help. That I need her," he walked away, not being able to contain his laughter.

"Huey, you don't need her," Dewey frowned.

"Oh yeah? What the hell do you suggest I do then? I-i can't do this! I-i've never been a bigger mess in my life!" He gestured to himself.

"Huey..." Dewey struggled with what to say. Huey turned his back, so he got out his phone and texted someone. In not too long Della came down the stairs in her pajamas without Huey taking notice. Della and Dewey shared a look and Dewey went away.

"Huey... are you okay?" She asked. Huey looked at her and ceased his laughter, silent tears still streaking down his face.

"Mom, I-i... I..." he glanced at the box on the table. He put a hand over his mouth and shook his head.

"I really screwed up this time," he looked at her. She didn't say anything, this time just going in to hug him.

"I-I'm not ready for this," he sniffled.

"I know baby, it's okay," she soothed.

"I-i can't possibly do this alone," Huey said.

"But you won't be, Huey. You got a family here that loves and supports and understands you all the way. I mean hey, look who you're talking to here," she leaned back to look him in the eyes while still hugging.

"I-i guess you're right..." he sniffled, wiping his face with his sleeve.

"As always, i am your mom after all," her joke managed to make him chuckle at least a little.

"I-i just... don't even know where to start," he admitted.

"Don't worry. I'll help you with that," she comforted, "where is it and we can get started?"

Huey pointed to the box and they walked to the table together before Della examinded it.

"It's a tiny lil' guy. You boys were much bigger, but even the doctor admitted jt was a bit of an abnormality," Della nudged Huey, which made him briefly crack a smile. Della touched the egg and had to stiffle a gasp.

"Huey, get some blankets. I'll turn some light on," she ordered. She tried not to sound worried but Huey could tell and quickly ran to the living room and grabbed some blankets. When he came back Della was cradling it in her arms.

"Put the blankets in the box," she said. Huey quickly obeyed and Della then set it down.

"Is something wrong already?" Huey asked, fidgeting nervously.

"No no, its okay. It was just... a little cold, but nothing that can't be fixed soon. It'll be okay Huey, just take a deep breath," Della instructed, and Huey copied. He looked at the egg for a long moment and realized he no longer felt the paralyzing fear he had felt earlier. He smiled at his mom.

"I'm glad to have you back Mom," he side hugged her.

"I'm glad to be here too, kiddo," she hugged him back. They stayed hugging in silence a moment before Della asked him when he was going to tell Donald.

"I uh... was hoping never?" He sheeped. Della broke out laughing.

"Trust me when I say this kid: that doesn't work. I tried," she snorted, "it's like he has a sixth sense for it."

"Okay, okay, when he wakes up then," he chuckled too.

"Good. Cuz there really is no need to hide it. He can't hurt you, he's Donald. Loves you al to death," she punched his arm. He nodded.

"Yeah, i know, i know," he yawned.

"You should go get your rest. I'll find a heat lamp and we can talk more about this tomorrow. You're gonna need your beauty rest while you can get it," Della told.

"Oh shoot. I guess you're right, huh," he chuckled nervously.

"Hey... relax kiddo. You got this. You'll be a great dad," she put her hands on the sides of his head and embraced it.

"Thanks Mom... it means a lot," Huey said.

"Seriously though, don't worry though. You have all of our support and together we can help you get through any troubles you might have. Just say the word and any of us will be there, got it?" She said seriously. Huey nodded.

"Of course. I have the best family in the world, and i am never going to run away from them again."

#huey duck #della duck #adult ducks #my fics #hazel duck #dewey duck #clarisse eider #angst to fluff #feelings #im starting to figure out grandma Della #yayyyyy #also #part 11 #probs finale #yayyy #its over now we can go home #i can get some s l e ep #oof

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cyanpeacock · 5 years ago

Text

more Realtalk(tm), less Psychosis(R)

my counsellor is a g and got me like, drawing stuff to take to our appointments? and i started off drawing like, pretty nothings, quite obviously avoiding the point. recently though i have been drawing Ugly Somethings. like, regarding how i felt as a kid, and all the cruel shit i heard regularly that fucked massively with my self-perception and self-esteem.

it’s weird. like... i don’t feel SO ashamed about “oh man I’m just overreacting” any more? sometimes i still get those thoughts like, oh snap, this shouldn’t have hurt me so much, it’s just words. but then i recall like, dude, what the fuck, this is a Grown Woman dealing all this verbal degradation to a tiny little child, with a side of physical punishment and a dressing of solitary confinement, with a dash of enforced hunger to taste. i was a witness to like, serious addiction, domestic abuse, and sexual violence? that shit... fucked me up. really badly. for AGES. still does. that is actually, like... very serious abuse and neglect. and minimizing it for others’ comfort is very damaging to me? no wonder i feel so fucking awful coming home from those people and places.

and like, my reaction to all that trauma? Hide. either by freezing or fleeing. fight when cornered. fawn if i’m going to lose the fight. so, of course, the Family only saw like... a fragment of me. the fragment that learned freezing gets trouble, running gets trouble, fighting gets MORE trouble, and only fawning is safe, despite that course requiring hiding huge chunks of like, my actual personhood? hiding the fact that i still primarily freeze and fly from novel frightening situations in case they’re dangerous? that’s not healthy for me. i gotta... unhide hiding. which, yeah, these new drawings are definitely part of that. whew.

none of the Family really believe i’m as unwell as i actually am, because i am very smart, very persistent, and hide So Much from them. at uni i get top 5% marks in the modules i really Work at, so it looks like “oh, he must be well enough! he can manage alone!” to them and people who don’t know how HARD i work for those grades. i work to the point i have neglected taking real care of my body and mind, which is why i’m going part time for 2nd year. but like... socially? uh, i’m way behind. job-experience-wise? way behind where i COULD have been, with appropriate support from 18 onwards. financially? unpredictable!! despite being ABLE to budget well, sticking to it is another matter!! i always run out in the summer!!

looking at my academic performance is NOT a good measure of my ability in everyday life, because in my case, my academic performance is literally The Thing I Am Best At. “difficulty in school” for me looks like getting a B instead of an A*, or missing one lab in a module, not the uni threatening to kick me out. the fact that i had to drop out for like a year then go part time is SERIOUS for me. like... it’s very oh Shit. i’m finally Free. and EVERYTHING is hitting me. all the pain of captivity. graduating has always been my Ticket Out, away from frightening people and places, and it might actually be in reach?! i could WORK in a lab, and talk to people while my gels are running, and discuss a weird chromosome i saw last week over a coffee. i’d Dig that shit, that’s a way i could fucking Live!!! but what the fuck, this is so much at once, i need to slow down!!! there’s more to deal with here than Just School!!!

and funnily enough, NONE of my relatives are in the Dream Future!! the Dream Future i thought was impossible and unattainable, because i genuinely believed i was gonna die by suicide before i hit 18, and then 21!! and yeah i have a recent attempt under my belt but right now i don’t wanna try again. if i get that way towards winter, then, well, shit, I Need A Mood Stabilizer. and yeah... reliably, historically, winter is a Darker Time for me. i’m very concerned about it happening again this year. but i gotta just. do the best i’m capable of under the conditions at the time. as always.

i gotta remember like, damn, i chose staying in a homeless hostel over going back to live with Her. the place was garbage, noisy, full of drugs and sad mad young people, but it was fucking clean, i could lock my door, i could move around in my Own space without being startled by people appearing suddenly in doorways, i could use the kitchen (emotionally) comfortably once i got put into a flat? what i hated Most was literally Being Seen by other residents. literally just being observed in the hallways or reception. that, and the noise of other people moving around, because thumping and crashing and footsteps near my door historically meant Trouble is On the Way.

SO YEAH i hate my mother!! yes!! hate is a very strong word, claire!! because i have VERY strong feelings about how you treated me at the beginning! no amount of “i love you” or “i’m sorry” or “i didn’t mean it like that” will change those things!!! you can’t get rid of ANY of the pain you caused that child, because it has Already Happened! you trying to convince me it works that way led me to hurt a LOT of people with the same unhealthy self-defense mechanisms, thinking that was Appropriate Behaviour!!!

i am absolutely Not obliged to see her, talk to her, or forgive her in any way. going back and even texting her are causing me Pain that is completely fucking unnecessary. i understand she is acting from a place of her own traumas with the mother that nearly killed her, but i do NOT need to minimize the absolute torture she dealt me because “she had it worse.” what i Do need to do is take responsibility for my OWN health, i.e. get the fuck AWAY, PERMANENTLY, FOREVER from the family i was born into. it is taking repeated efforts!! but that is okay!! i was trapped there for a very long time and led to believe Family Is Forever!!! very Untrue!!!

as long as i’m making excuses for her behaviour towards me, i’ll be dealing the same kind of unhealth towards other people in my life, and i don’t dig that side of the world where everyone is hiding a knife behind their back in case their “friend” turns out to be a “snake”. i visited! it doesn’t suit me, or anyone imo, but i understand why people stay or get stuck there. staying hostile feels safer, for a long fucking time. i’m still very wings-forward about-to-box defensive, but i don’t wanna stay there, i want to like... actually relax? to actually not have pecs so tight they pull my shoulders forward 24/7? that would be fucking Delightful.

so yeah i’m definitely... well. That’s Trauma, Babey!! and any kind of communication with those people who believe “there’s nothing wrong” with me is setting me back massively in my recovery. thanks 2 my recent psychosis for confirming that!!

a lot of that psychosis was not literal but VERY useful and frequently symbolic in helping me realise how goddamn painful my childhood actually was. like... i’m a long time out from it now, but emotions came up that like... well. i don’t think i could conceive of that if i’d never experienced something to trigger that intensity of feeling? yeah.

BUT YEAH that’s a bunch more shit integrating all at once. i’m gonna go listen to electric six and be Mr. Woman for a while. theatrical dramatics this body can GET. acknowledging and feeling through trauma is Not the same thing as being theatrical, claire!!

ok I Go Music Zone Now

#fliptext #trauma #ask to tag #abuse #neglect #psychosis

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lovemesomerafael · 5 years ago

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El Amor Todo Lo Puede Chapter 36: Rescue

Source: @fortheloveofbarba

Chapters 1-35

Laura was not alone in being sick with worry, fear, anxiety and frustration. The entire squad room full of cops and investigators were tired, edgy, and ready to explode. They all knew what Andrew Rhee, the newly-paroled violent criminal who had threatened to kill Rafael, had done to other people whose sins against him were far less than putting him in prison. And he’d had Rafael under his control for the past fifteen hours.

Rhee’s girlfriend, Dina, was much luckier than she knew that D.A. McCoy had remained to assist in the effort to recover his prosecutor. More than half the people in the squad room would happily have burst into the interrogation room and beat information out of her if he hadn’t been there, and that included Chief Dodds.

It wasn’t that Dodds was particularly fond of A.D.A. Barba. He could take him or leave him. For Dodds, the problem was Dina. She was a piece of work. Her nasal Long Island accent was made only more irritating by the whiny, entitled tone she used to say pretty much everything. She had as little respect for cops as her boyfriend did, and was enjoying her moment in the spotlight. Dodds, who was used to going home at a reasonable hour, was about to ask McCoy how strongly-held the Mayor’s position on waterboarding really was.

Laura had stopped being able to listen to the interrogation some time before. First, she’d spent time talking with her team, trying to come up with something – anything – that would help them narrow the search. They were getting nowhere, and were now only irritating one another going over old ground. She’d just decided to offer her help to the investigators trying to find connections between Rhee and real estate on Long Island when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, jumpy, cross, and ready to bite the head off of whoever was unfortunate enough to have made that mistake. The angry words died in her throat when she saw that it was Peter Stone. The look on his face and his defensive posture told her that she’d obviously betrayed her annoyance and readiness to fight.

“Damn it, Peter, I just about decked you.”

“I see that. I guess that answers my question about how you are.”

Laura sighed and looked sheepishly up at him. “I’m sorry. Bad night.”

She let him pull her into a brief hug.

“I heard about Barba. I thought you could probably use a friend.”

She led him to her desk, which one of the on-loan detectives had just vacated, and offered him her chair. She perched on the edge of the desk. “Do me a favor,” she said quietly. “Don’t be nice to me. I’ll cry. And right now I need to be pissed and ready.”

“I understand. Anything new?”

“Not a fucking thing. We got Rhee’s girlfriend in the box, but she’s having the time of her life and not saying jack. Damn, I miss Voight.”

He grinned. “I bet.”

“Fin and I got some good results earlier today in ways he would approve of.”

“Don’t tell me details I can’t know, especially in front of my boss,” he looked in the direction of the D.A.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She smiled for the first time in hours. “All we know right now is there’s some house on Long Island, in the middle of hicksville, that may or may not be where he’s being held.”

“Hicksville? You’ve narrowed it down to the town he’s in?” Peter looked surprised.

“What?”

“Hicksville. It’s a town on Long Island.”

“Fuck!” Laura jumped up from her desk to run into Lieutenant Benson’s office. Dodds sat at Benson’s desk, with Carisi and Rollins, as well as a couple of his on-loan detectives, standing around.

“Hicksville!” She shouted. “She said the house was in Hicksville, but I thought she just meant the boondocks. I’m not from here, I didn’t know it’s the name of the town!”

Dodds jumped up and stormed into the interrogation room to refocus the questioning. Carisi and Rollins took two of the other detectives to the squad room table to work out the time window while Laura went to shout orders to the investigator using Fin’s computer.

“Hicksville! We need all the traffic cameras in and around Hicksville. Now!”

Peter came to stand behind Laura as she vultured over the investigator’s shoulder. She could feel his comforting presence just barely touching her. She turned to look up at him, giving him a distracted one-armed hug. “You’re a genius.”

He hugged her back. “Because I know the name of a town on Long Island. Low bar.”

A tortured look crossed her face. “Remind me to kill myself for not knowing that. God, Peter, how much time did I just cost him?” Tears formed in her eyes.

“Pissed and ready, Sunshine. Remember?”

“Right. Right. Pissed and ready.” She squared her shoulders, clenched her teeth, and turned back to the investigator isolating traffic cameras.

******

Andrew Rhee had actually pulled up a chair to watch Barba’s agony. He wasn’t quite sure what the large dose of epinephrine he’d given Barba would do to him – his cellie at Riker’s had said it depended on the person – but it was apparently terrible, and that was good enough for Rhee. Severe headaches and chest pain were supposed to be pretty much a given, and he could see that Barba was writhing, sweating and shaking with chills, all the while fighting to breathe.

Rhee had torn the duct tape from Barba’s mouth so that he could hear him scream. That would’ve been nice, but once again, Barba disappointed him.

Huh. It probably sucked, but somehow, even with the foamy mucus Barba was coughing up, this wasn’t quite as much fun as Rhee had hoped. He hurled insults and taunted Barba, but couldn’t tell if the detestable shit could even hear him.

*******

Carisi and Rollins had worked with the other detectives to calculate a rough estimate of the time it would take to get from Manhattan to Hicksville at the time Rhee had abducted Barba. McCoy split the assembled cops and investigators into teams of two, each team using that half-hour time span to narrow the amount of footage they needed to view. Laura had looked a question at Peter, who had instantly pulled her visitors’ chair next to where she sat at her desk to team up with her watching the footage from her assigned cameras.

“Let’s get your boyfriend back,” he murmured.

“Remind me to tell you how much I love you,” she murmured back, leaning her shoulder into his. They didn’t notice the several raised eyebrows around them.

*******

Olivia continued to try to get information from Dina, but despaired of getting any results. She had tried most of the techniques she could think of, but there wasn’t much she could do with a woman like that. So when Dodds had knocked on the window to let her know they were closing in on the SUV, she decided it was time to go nuclear. She called Carisi in.

“You want me to what?”

“Charm her. Give her those baby blues, get the dimples goin’, you know. And heavy on the Staten Island.”

“Oh, man, Lieu, couldn’t we just let Parker loose on her?”

“Get in there. And be charming, damn you.”

Benson had never heard Carisi drop the F-bomb, which made the string of profanity he let go that much more expressive. But she didn’t relent.

She and Dodds watched as Carisi settled in at the table with Dina, all limbs and awkward apologies for the long interrogation. He offered her a drink by way of a compliment.

“Girl like you, I’m guessing some kind of fancy tea, am I right?” He leaned on his forearm, braced on the table, so that he was looking up at her from a few feet away. Even Olivia could feel that smile. I need to be using him more often. That’s carnal, what he’s doing right now.

Dodds made a noise. Olivia stole a look at him, expecting to see derision on his face, and was amused to see something that looked surprisingly like admiration.

When he had brought them both a cup of tea – I’ll have what she’s having, that’s good, too, Liv noted – Carisi settled in with his chair just a touch too close to Dina for professionalism. “Listen, Dina, I’m guessing you know what this is all about, why we brought you here.”

“I know, Detective, but I can’t tell you anything I didn’t awready tell that othuh chick. I dunno wheah Androo is.”

“Hey, can I ask you? That accent, where you from? Me, I’m raised in Staten Island, always like to hear someone who sounds like home.”

“Lawng Oiland. Massapequa. I thawt I heard some Staten Island in theah,” Dina preened.

Olivia mentally cringed, both from this woman’s desperate need for attention, and from her own failure to send Carisi in two hours ago.

“Massapequa, that’s near Hicksville, yeah? I got some cousins in Hicksville.”

Dina may have been needy, but she was also wary. At the mention of Hicksville, she cooled a bit. “Yeah, well, ya’ can’t expect me to know everyone on Lawng Oisland.”

Sonny’s hurt look was so genuine, even Dodds wanted to comfort him. “Naw, I wasn’t tryin’ to… I know you been through a lot tonight. I was just makin’ conversation.”

“It’s OK, Detective… what was your name again?”

“It’s Carisi, but everyone calls me Sonny.”

“Sonny.”

“It’s Dominick, but my father’s Dominick, so…”

“I must know twenty Dominicks,” Dina said, leaning closer to him.

“Well, now it’s twenty-one,” Carisi smiled, dimples fully deployed.

*********

Rafael was freezing. All of his muscles hurt from shivering, and he felt like he’d run a marathon tied to the back of a speeding truck. He was exhausted. At least he could breathe again. His heart still thundered in his ears, but he didn’t think his head was going to explode with each heartbeat anymore. Now that he knew he wasn’t going to die right this minute, he was pissed. He’d lost track of time as he’d heaved and cringed through what he had been sure was a massive heart attack. The waves and waves of adrenaline shooting through him had felt like lightning and, though he had been very preoccupied, he’d also heard Rhee’s mocking voice through the ordeal.

He was not going to give Rhee the satisfaction of any reaction he could possibly contain. That, he thought, was something he could control here. And he knew Rhee was keeping him alive so he could enjoy those reactions.

He saw Rhee get up and start rummaging in the boxes stacked against the wall across from the makeshift cell. Rhee took out something that might have been a whip. Rafael started to sweat again, even though he was in only his shirtsleeves in the unheated stable.

Well, now it’s a party, he thought.

*********

Half an hour later, Fin and the investigator he was working with had found the black SUV exiting the Long Island Expressway at Hicksville. They had been able to follow it past the mall and caught it turning onto Broadway, but where the area turned residential, the cameras thinned out and they lost it again.

Olivia asked Dodds to let Carisi know where they were. As Dodds knocked on the door and stuck his head in, she noticed Carisi move his body so that he put his arm around the back of Dina’s chair, as though Dodds was talking to both of them.

Jack McCoy had stepped to the window to watch the interrogation now that they had exhausted the traffic cam footage. Several teams were still working real estate records, and he had sent three different investigator teams out to talk to C.I.s who might be able to provide information about the location of a former brothel in Hicksville. When Dodds re-closed the door after giving his message to Carisi, he nodded to McCoy and Benson and went out to the squad room. They were getting close.

“We’re going to need IRT,” Dodds said to the room in general, picking up the first phone he came to.

********

“You robbed me of five years of my life,” Rhee told Rafael as he lay, sweating and bleeding. “That was a mistake. Now it’s time to pay.”

“You’re right. You robbed at least three people of all the years of their lives. I should have been able to convict you on that.” It was hard to choke those words out past the pain in his chest from the kicks Rhee had delivered. He hadn’t yet used the whip. Given how much the kicks had hurt, and continued to hurt, Rafael was kind of hoping he’d switch to the whip.

“You think you’re so clever. So superior. And yet here I am with all the power, and there you are, crawling around in the dirt like a worm. I bet you’re thinking about what it will be like to die.”

“I don’t usually get existential when I’m sober. But if you got any scotch…”

The whip whistled through the air and tore a hole through the shoulder of Rafael’s shirt that went into his flesh. Rhee was obviously not an expert with it, or maybe it was a cheap S&M toy, but it stung quite enough. Rafael hated that he’d let out a yelp when it hit him, but it had been more from surprise than real pain.

*******

Dina didn’t know the address of the house in Hicksville. But she did know the name of the shell company that owned it. Within ten minutes of getting that information, the NYPD had the address, and Dina, to her great disappointment, had been locked in the squad room lockup to be dealt with later.

Chief Dodds took charge of the assembled cops, communicating with the Incident Response Team to plan a rendezvous outside Hicksville. Fin had an arm across Laura’s shoulders, while Peter held her hand on the other side. She wasn’t fooled by the show of support. She knew it was just as much preparation to restrain her in the likely event that became necessary. IRT took forever to assemble and brief, and Hicksville was over an hour away. She was coiled so tight Fin wondered whether she was going to launch herself across the room at Dodds.

When the interminable briefing was finally over, Olivia pulled the SVU squad together and tried to make more detailed plans with them. Each of them was too tense, angry, and restless to tolerate much more waiting.

Olivia pointed into Laura’s face. “You gonna be able to do this right?”

“Holy shit, Lieu, let’s just go already! There’s five of us, there’s no need to wait for fucking IRT. We can have him back long before they can get rolling, and you know that.”

“Detective, I understand you’re upset. But we will do this by the book. Don’t make me lock you in with Dina.”

Laura squeezed her eyes – and her mouth – shut.

“All right. Let’s go.”

The squad burst from the squad room like someone had lit a fuse. Just before leaving, Laura turned to Peter where he still stood next to her desk. She pointed at him and mouthed across the room, “Best. Friend. Ever.”

********

The whip was actually kind of fun. But it turned out to be a piece of crap that broke as soon as Rhee started to get into it. He was going to have to go back to his toolbox to find something else to torture Barba with. Before that, however, he thought he’d spend some time telling Barba what he thought of him. Barba was cold there on that floor. That could be enough pain for now while Rhee explained to him what a piece of shit he was. More duct tape first, though. Barba was apparently a smartass no matter what condition he was in.

*******

The drive to Hicksville seemed to take a lifetime. Fin tried everything he could think of to get Laura to spool down a little. Finally, when he reasoned that she needed to save her energy for what was coming, she made a sincere effort to breathe deeply and calm herself down. Whenever visions of what might be happening to Rafael threatened to break into her consciousness, she imagined his smiling face and chanted to herself, “Pissed and ready. Pissed and ready.”

When at last they reached the rendezvous, Dodds and the IRT team commander were arguing about whether the multiple police vehicles should have their lights on right now. Laura sent a pleading look at Olivia, who made an “I got this” gesture and stepped over to them.

“Gentlemen, I will be happy to officially measure them later. But for right now, put ‘em away. One of ours is being tortured one mile from here, and we have a job to do. We have a plan, we’re all here now. Let’s douse the lights and get this done.”

Much of the team ran the last quarter-mile, splitting up so that they came upon the house from different directions. That way, the few vehicles that drove closer would be less likely to catch Rhee’s attention. Laura was glad for the run. It helped her burn off some of her nerves, and let her feel she was doing something.

But then all activity ceased. They were all instructed to keep absolute radio silence except for commands and emergencies. From behind a tree fifty yards in back of the outbuilding, which looked like a barn or something, Laura looked through the dark over at Olivia. Crouched behind her own tree, Olivia made a pushing down motion. Laura did not want to be told to relax. They could see lights in the barn. There were none in the house. Rafael had to be in the barn. Why are we not storming that shit like the goddamn apocalypse? She bounced up and down with anxiety. She shot a distressed look, hand lifted in pleading, toward her Lieutenant. Olivia scowled and made the pushing motion again. Laura stamped her foot.

Olivia rolled her eyes, looked around, and ran in a silent crouch to where Laura was.

“Wait for instructions. There’s a reason the IRT is here,” she whispered harshly. “Don’t make me knock you out when we’re this close.”

Laura swore under her breath, shooting a look at the barn.

“Parker…”

At that moment, they heard a cry of pain that Laura knew was Rafael. He’s alive! And he’s fifty yards away. How many times have I told him I’d never let anyone hurt him?

She turned to Olivia, eyes hard. “You want my shield, fine. But you’re gonna have to come get it. You know where I’ll be.”

Laura silently and warily, but quickly, crossed the empty yard between the treeline and the barn. When she reached it, she flattened her back against the wall beside the door. The door was a simple series of wooden planks on hinges; the latch was mounted on the door and just lifted up to sit in a catch on the doorframe. It wasn’t latched.

Olivia’s voice came through Laura’s earpiece, alerting the team of what she’d done. When Dodds’ voice came on, ordering her to stand down, she pulled it from her ear and let it hang down onto her shoulder. Here comes career number three, she thought.

She used her foot to ease the door open ever so slightly, listening for a squeak. There was none. She moved the door a bit more, as slowly as possible, waiting for any telltale resistance that might lead to a squeak. When it was open enough, she dropped to her knees, then her stomach, and took the quickest possible peek through the crack.

Fuck! There were two rooms, and the door to the first wasn’t in line with the door to the interior room. She wouldn’t be able to just shoot Rhee from where she was. She elbow-crawled back, slowly and silently, until she could stand up. Again, she flattened herself against the wall and used her foot to open the door, a few millimeters at a time.

When she had the door open just enough that she could slip through, she moved away from the door and took off most of the tactical gear she was wearing. She would have liked to remove the vest, but it was secured with Velcro, which would make too much noise. She left everything but her weapon lying in the light snow on the ground. She wondered why Olivia hadn’t crossed the yard to join her, but didn’t have much time to care.

Slowly, slowly, she slipped through the crack in the door. From where she stood, she could see that the inner room was a stable, with stalls for horses. She stood for moments, thinking and listening to Rhee’s voice as he berated Rafael. She was glad. His monologue would hopefully cover any noise she made. With deliberate, precisely controlled movements, Laura stepped to the side, leaning her head so that she could see into the stable. She crept close to the wall between the tack room and stable, and peered around the doorframe as far as she dared.

She saw the makeshift cell, but couldn’t see Rafael because of the wooden walls of the stall. She stayed where she was, because she could see from the shadows that Rhee was in the stall with him, standing over him. She heard a noise that sounded like Rhee stomping on Rafael, followed by a loud groan. She saw red.

She heard a sound she couldn’t identify, followed by Rhee’s taunting voice. “Let me get that tape off, just in case you want to scream for me.”

C’mon, Rafa, make some noise. Piss him off. Get him yelling. I need some cover here.

Rafael began to trash-talk Rhee in Spanish. It was perfect. Rhee, who didn’t speak Spanish, became enraged, demanding that Rafael speak English. Laura noticed that some of the things Rafael was saying were distinctly funny, and hoped that she wasn’t going to betray her presence by something as stupid as laughing at the wrong moment.

“All right, you fucking beaner,” Rhee cried, “That’s it. It’s playtime.”

Laura heard Rafael make a sound that was half laugh, half groan, as he told Rhee in Spanish that he was Cuban, not Mexican, and he really wasn’t in the mood to play. Rhee wasn’t really his type.

Laura risked a look around the doorframe. Rhee was squatting down, looking into boxes that sat on the floor across from the cell where he was keeping Rafael.

With his back to her.

In three strides, Laura was across the room and throwing a forearm across Rhee’s throat. She jammed the muzzle of her Glock into the back of his head before he could react. He startled, but quickly froze, knowing his situation for what it was.

With her forearm, Laura put just enough pressure on his trachea to restrict, but not completely block, his ability to breathe. She leaned down and placed her mouth near Rhee’s ear, hissing in a voice dripping with fury. “The only reason you’re not dead yet is I wanted you to know it was me who killed you. You pissed off the wrong bitch.”

She looked over then and saw Rafael, bloody and shivering but alive, where he lay on the dirty, straw-strewn floor with his hands behind him.

“You can’t shoot me. You’re a cop.” Rhee’s effort to sound cool and amused was belied by the shake in his voice.

“Oh, but I can,” she cooed nastily, turning back to him. “See, that’s the other thing you did wrong. That guy?” She indicated Rafael. “He has lots of friends. Lawyers, judges, cops… all with one thing in common. They hate your ass. You’ve provided me with the perfect witness. When he and I say you got killed trying to resist?” She leaned even closer and whispered, “How many questions do you really think they’re gonna ask?”

She knew she had him when he didn’t respond or move.

“So you got one chance. One -” She jerked her forearm roughly across his throat. “Of walking out of here. And that’s to do exactly what I tell you, and nothing else. You speak, you surprise me, you piss me off in any way and they’ll be scraping you off that wall. And you know what I’ll do then? I’ll go out for drinks with half the cops and lawyers in the city and we’ll laugh and drink to your demise. Nod if you understand.”

He hesitated, but eventually nodded slightly. He looked livid.

“Excellent.” Without looking away from Rhee, Laura called out, “Rafael, puedes andar[1]?”

“No. Estoy esposado.[2]”

“Cómo?[3]”

“I’m cuffed,” he said in English.

“Did you just say you’re engaged?”

“It means handcuffed, too. It’s not a pun in Spanish. Just… can we talk about this later?”

She leaned in to Rhee again, and her voice completely changed, back to the hate-filled growl she had been using on him. “Oh, bitch. At this moment, I want you dead almost exactly as much as I want to see you die in prison. Please do something stupid, I beg you.”

Rhee said nothing, just knelt seething with her arm across his throat and her gun to his head.

“You’re gonna very, very slowly put your hands behind your back. Fuck up. Please fuck up.”

She took her arm from around his throat and moved slightly back, reaching behind her to pull her handcuffs from the back of her slacks. Rhee hesitantly, shakily put his hands behind him and allowed her to cuff him. When she’d done that, she raised her arm and knocked him unconscious with the butt of her Glock. What the hell. I’m already out of a job.

Laura saw Olivia enter the stable just as she stood up to go to Rafael. Which meant Olivia had seen Laura pistol whip Rhee when he was already cuffed.

Laura quickly released Rafael from the handcuffs and helped him sit up, groaning and trying to move his excruciatingly stiff shoulders. She put her hands on his forearms, looking into his bruised, cut face. His right eye was fairly well swollen shut and she could see the white was stained with blood.

“How bad are you hurt?” She asked, reaching up to touch his face, half to examine his wounds, and half simply to be touching him. He put his hands on her waist, trying to comfort her even though he was the one injured.

“You know something?” He asked, his voice hoarse and ragged. “And I mean this in the best possible way. You’re a scary bitch.”

Laura actually laughed at that. “You just noticing that?”

She put her arms gently around him and tried to hold him without hurting him. He grunted a little, but held her close for a moment. She lightly kissed his split lip as they heard Olivia radio the all clear, notifying the team that the suspect was in custody and the scene secured. Olivia also called for the medics to come immediately.

Leaning on the bars at the entrance to the cell as she holstered her weapon, Benson said, “The cavalry will be here in a minute. It’s good to see you alive, Rafa.”

“Thank you.” The depth of his gratitude was evident in his face as he looked up at her, and in the fact that he didn’t bother to add any sarcastic commentary.

Olivia went to check on Rhee, who was beginning to make noises as he returned to consciousness, giving Laura and Rafael privacy as they waited on the floor for the few moments it took for the team to arrive. They simply sat, close together, foreheads touching, occasionally kissing softly.

“You knew I was coming, right?” Laura whispered, smoothing down a lock of his hair.

“I knew.”

“You really do have a lot of friends, you know. Every second, half the NYPD and most of the D.A.’s office were trying to find you.”

He didn’t answer. He seemed too emotional to try.

She had very little control of the emotion in her own voice as she whispered thickly, “Te amo, Rafael. Tanto[4].”

“Me di cuenta que[5].”

“I should’ve told you a long time ago. When I thought you were going to die without knowing…”

“I knew. Shhh… I knew.”

Although there were a few looks between those who were surprised to see Parker kissing and holding hands with Barba, the cops were in full-on business mode. Gossip could wait. Fin and Rollins pulled Rhee roughly to his feet and began escorting him out.

“Hey, I want to make a complaint. That bitch threatened to shoot me in cold blood, and then she cold-cocked me!” He whined.

“My girl,” Fin said, smiling over at Laura. “Now shut up before I kick your ass in cold blood and knock you out again.”

As the paramedics tended to Rafael, Laura stood just outside the cell next to Olivia. She knew what was coming, and she appreciated Olivia’s willingness to wait to fire her until Rafael was safely on his way to the hospital.

“That was really stupid of Rhee, coming at you like that.”

Laura blinked her attention away from Rafael. “What?”

“After you cuffed him. When he tried to rush you and you had to knock him out.”

Laura gaped. “It was, um…”

“I know what it was. I saw it when I came in. Remember?”

The tears that Laura had ruthlessly squashed down pooled in her eyes. “I remember. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“We’re gonna talk about this again. But let me handle Dodds. You go to the hospital with Barba.”

Laura left tears and the last of her makeup on Olivia’s bulletproof vest as she hugged her with all the relief and gratitude she felt.

*******

Late the next morning, as she sat next to Rafael on his hospital bed with her legs tucked under her, Laura traced the line of a cut across his arm where the whip had laid his skin open. Fortunately, it was one of only a few, but it was going to leave a scar.

“I have so much to say to you,” she began. “But I know you’re tired. We’ll talk about it later. Just… I love you.”

“So you said.”

“I meant it.”

“I know.” Rafael’s eyes twinkled as he smiled the teasing, pleased smile that belonged only to her.

Laura smiled the first real smile since Rafael had been abducted.

[1] Can you walk?

[2] I’m handcuffed.

[3] What?

[4] I love you, Rafael. So much.

[5] I noticed that.

#law & order svu #law & order: special victims unit #rafael barba #raul esparza #olivia benson #peter stone #sonny carisi #fin tutuola #amanda rollins #Law & Order Jack McCoy

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clown-bait · 6 years ago

Text

A Very Monster Christmas (Monster Roommate AU) PT5

H-Hey everybody? This took me 5000 years to write. I have no excuse so I'm just gonna release both of the final chapters at once and then the first for part 3 so everyone is happy.

CH22 Babies Were a Mistake

“Don’t touch it!”

“Junior quit being a baby and hold still”

“No! Get away from me!” Hissed a very upset monster clown with a knife in his eye. His uncle threw up his hands in defeat returning to his chair. The giant seated next to him fidgeted nervously knowing that his landlord could get very violent when wounded. A soft hand landed on Bubba’s arm and the giant cannibal looked over to leech’s mom smiling sweetly at him. “Sweetheart will you hold him for me?”

The masked killer blinked clearly scared of the monster clown howling in pain on the floor. “Its ok big fella I’m going to make him stop.” the witch said calmly reaching into her bag. “You need to hold him for me though can you do that?”

“BABIES WERE A MISTAKE!” Penny roared and screamed still clutching his face.

“I am so glad to be awake to see this.” the elder Pennywise sighed happily resting his head on his hand with a toothy grin as he watched the younger clown sob in pain. Leatherface stood and cautiously approached the shrieking eldritch who’s other eye tore open solid red and black with anger. “DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!” he snarled and snapped his enormous fangs wildly like a wounded animal. Leech’s mom slowly approached him from the front and held out a small bag of herbs which she poured into a small ashtray and set it on fire. “Shhh inhale the smoke.”

“NO! NO ONE APPROACH I WILL TEAR YOUR FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!”

“Sally doll, sit down and let em’ cry it out like the baby he is.” the elder clown suggested starting to grow worried for his date’s safety. His worry was quickly gone when Sally Smith snatched the roaring monster harshly by the ear and pulled hard motioning for Leatherface to grab his arms as the creature whined in pain.

“Inhale.” the woman said sternly and shoved the smoking embers to his red nose. Pennywise had no choice but to breathe in the smoke deep into his lungs exhaling it with a couple coughs as his body relaxed. The witch quickly removed the small knife from his eye earning a pained roar from the restrained eldritch who was released and immediately skittered into a corner slumped over in pain. Tiff who had been watching stared at the substance in the bowl with wonder. “What was that you gave him some sort of magic herbs?”

“Oh no sweetie just simple cannabis!”

The doll blinked a few times as the elder pennywise began to howl with laughter from his chair “Yeah you're Fangs’ mom alright.”

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

A howl filled the air as a group of hunters made their way down the snowy streets of the town of Derry. The sound rattled the doll and put the vampires into a state of extreme alert their fourth companion simply groaned. Three figures appeared in front of them and two from behind. The hunter’s own arrogance had shifted their position to the role of prey. “Pen’s gonna kill me” Leech groaned as the bones in her hands snapped and reformed.

“Get in the middle of us apprentice. He will kill us before you if we return you with so much as a scratch.”

“I appreciate the gentlemanly gesture Dracula but I can handle myself. Besides you Fred's got no power here and Chucky has a bread knife. You boys really think you'd be more effective against fucking werewolves than a juiced up vampire?”

“Ouch Fangs.”

“If you want to fight fido alone be my guest Chuck.”

“She has a point, I really don't want to deal with going through another resurrection on the holidays. Phil gets weird during this time of year.”

“Holy shit I’ll say did you see him last week he freakin headbutted a nativity display and started eating the manger! Could have just been hungry though….could have also just been a regular goat.”

“Who the fuck else in this town has a giant ass black goat with a leggings fetish?”

“I don't know Fred goats are really popular right now they're all over Instagram!”

Dracula let out a long sigh and stepped backwards “Myers.” he tried to say over the arguing friends.

“What? What does Mikey have to do with goat yoga?” Freddy asked before suddenly being torn from his standing position and chucked into a wall.

“That.”

The masked killer casually kicked a shrieking Chucky into a trash can and both vampires found their necks being squeezed in the vice like grip of The Shape himself as a pack of women surrounded them from behind.

“Hello blood suckers!” Sandy the werewolf said cheerfully behind the tall slasher.

“You're dating Myers?” Leech wheezed and tried to claw her way out of the grip on her throat.

“I am! Thank you for finally asking!”

Dracula cursed loudly in Romanian as winds picking up strongly through the alleyway.

“Sandy have them put down, we need to have a little talk.” Laurie nudged her sisters arm who motioned for her boyfriend to release them.

“You!” Leech hissed “Couldn't settle for my familiar could you bitch!”

“Jim and I broke up vampire!” the she wolf snarled with obvious pain in her voice. Dracula took notice of the tear in her eye.

“Yeah it was very sad be nicer!” one of the other sisters chimed in and Leech slashed forward in warning holding up her injured hand.

“Your leader tried to kill me and cut off my fucking finger! I think we're past being nice!”

“Its just a finger bloodsucker.”

“She tortured me!”

“And you turned her into Hamburger Helper!”

“I think I had the right to!”

“Stop taking credit for that Fangs that was your damn demon spawn!” Freddy interrupted deciding to join the argument.

“I helped make them Fred I can claim credit!”

“You’re pregnant?” Laurie said in shock as Dracula continued to awkwardly stare.

“See me,” he whispered “See me now.” Laurie glanced over at him and gave an uncomfortable wave.

“Oh great now everyone knows.” Leech rolled her soulless eyes and retracted her fangs.

“How?” Sandy asked and then grimaced in disgust when she remembered what manner of beast the vampire was dating “On second thought maybe don't share that.”

“It was actually a pretty normal process surprisingly, what isnt normal is the eldritch horror morning sickness” Leech casually sheathed her claws and fixed her coat.

“Oh well um congratulations then?” Sandy said almost confused.

“Yeah uh thanks... I’m still kinda processing it all myself.” Leech laughed nervously.

“Well this is hella awkward. I’m not gonna fight a pregnant woman.” one of the girls said.

“Yeah you know we were gonna come and get our revenge and what not but to be honest it's just kinda weird now.” Laurie said side eyeing a still wide eyed Dracula.

“You guys uh….. you guys know where we can get something to eat?” the younger vampire asked. “Kids need some food you know.”

“Y-yeah there's a frat party down the street from us you can grab someone there.”

“Cool……...um so is this like a truce or….”

“Its christmas man just forget about it.” Sandy took her tall silent boyfriend by the arm signaling to leave.

“Yeah alright. Cool. See you at work then.”

“The fuck is going on?” Chucky shouted from the trash can.

“Weird ass women shit Chuck.” Freddy said as he tipped the can over.

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

Pennywise squatted in the corner of the decaying kitchen lapping at a bowl of eggnog like an extremely dangerous kitten. His good eye darted around defensively as he lapped the obnoxiously sweet drink. He didn't even notice the front door bursting open or the loud thud in the living room of his mate returning with a large meal.

Leech draped the muscled youth over the coffee table like a hunter proudly showing their family the prized turkey they caught for dinner. She even began placing her boot on his rear to show off even further.

“He's still passed out drac and I have been keeping him drained and Fred’s been keeping him scared in dreamland. It only took two of my special mix to get him falling on his ass not bad for a pregnant lady I'll say!” Leech beamed wide and knocked on the young man's skull. “Hey Fred you good in there?” the limp body jerked his arm up in a thumbs up position.

“Not bad?! All you did was flash the guy a little cleavage and hand him a couple shots. Where's the finesse?” Chucky complained carrying a large stolen pizza box with what looked like a bloody hand print on the sides. “You shoulda seen what I did to the pizza guy now that was art!”

“I'm not going for art I'm going for easy. My family was hungry and I provided.”

“Yeah yeah you're a strong woman Fangs, we're all very impressed now go clean up your idiot for us.” the elder clown called out to her casually sipping the sweet spiked eggnog that sat perched in his gloves. Leech groaned and put her hand to her face.

“Jesus the fuck did he do this time?”

Chucky looked up and snarled finally noticing the lack of twins in the room. “I said it once and I'll say it again blood sucker, I aint paying for therapy.”

The kitchen was much quieter than out there with all the noise and chatter and merryment. Pennywise wrinkled his nose in disgust and snarled still cradling his wound and purring in an attempt to heal himself. Babies were a mistake. Who was he kidding he was the eater of worlds and children. He hated children and here he was on his way to becoming a father. Oh the irony. The clown groaned and held his head tighter shutting his good eye to try to escape further.

“Mr. Pennywise?”

His eye flew back open.

“Mr. Pennywise I-Im sorry about Glenda. She takes after dad I think. Much better at the family business than I am.”

Pennywise’s breathing grew harder and his pained purring became an alarming growl as Chucky’s son bravely got closer.

“Mum says you’ll try to eat me if I came to talk to you but I don’t think you’re so bad.”

“You are quite the fool then boy.” He finally said giggling to himself a bit before wincing in pain. Glen stopped for a moment then continued forward.

“I-I just want to tell you that I thought your tricks were real neat that's all.”

The clown's growling softened and his molten yellow eye soothed. Maybe it won't be all bad, this one at least could appreciate perfection when he saw it.

“Um they have dinner out there if you want any.”

From a hole in the ceiling Leech watched her mate unfold himself and take his glove from his eye which was already beginning to heal. The boy bravely took the hand of his natural predator and led him out. He definitely had a long way to go but this was progress. She smiled to herself and felt the tug of exhaustion once again. “We'll get there together eventually.” she sighed and slipped away stepping back from the others and into the comfort the shadows.

#pennywise #pennywise x oc #pennywise fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #horror fiction #freddy krueger #chucky #Charles Lee Ray #tiffany valentine #bubba sawyer #monster roommate au #it fanfiction

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lovelymysticmoon · 4 years ago

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Story Update

Hello, It's me, I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything They say time's supposed to heal ya, but I haven't done much healing.

"But you could be." Fitz said, leaning forward in his restraints. "Even now you could take out all these goons and get us out of this, but you won't." Ward started to stand up, shaking his head.

"I can't-" Ward's words were interrupted by Fitz, and he sat back down slowly, to listen to that accented voice.

"I can take Coulson." Ward said dismissively, confident in that, at least. He'd killed Rosalind Price, and Coulson was likely furious beyond belief. Fury led to mistakes, even in experienced people.

"You don't have to, Ward. I know you wanted to be a part of us again, and we didn't let you... but we don't have to be enemies either. You can choose right now to be good-"

"You really are hopeless, aren't you?" Ward demanded frustrated, standing up, the frustration of hearing those words again too much to bear, especially when they weren't true. "You really think you can just bat your beautiful blue eyes and make me change my mind about everything?" Fitz jerked his head back at the sudden burst of emotion , but Ward wasn't paying attention. "That's so typical of you Fitz, you couldn't change my mind when I dropped you into the ocean and you're not going to change it now. It's not happening."

"I believe you." Fitz said quietly. Ward stared at Fitz, a long moment of silence unbroken by either of them, nor by screams.

"Wh-what do you mean?" Fitz asked slowly.

"I mean, you leave S.H.I.E.L.D." Ward said, glancing out of the doorway. "I make the screaming stop, I kill everyone in here. You explain to Simmons what's happening, and then you come with me."

"Why do you want me to come with you?" Fitz asked, breathlessly. Ward hesitated.

"Insurance." He said finally and left the room, leaving Fitz to ponder. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Hello from the outside, at least I can say that I've tried to tell you I'm sorry For breaking your heart, but it don't matter clearly, doesn't tear you apart anymore.