#just out here on a friday morning sick of the fandom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jo-harrington · 8 days ago

Text

Eddie Munson's Day Off

This can be read as a standalone but the appearance of Sally Gutierrez makes this an AU of @dr-aculaaa's Saturday Night/Sunday Morning series.

Summary: It's 1994. Our favorite quartet live in Chicago and do their best to leave their experiences in Hawkins and the Upside Down in the past. And in the spirit of moving on, self-proclaimed heavy metal god Eddie Munson has a brilliant idea: taking a day off.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/Themes: Friendship, Angst, Trauma, Fluff, Angst, Everyone Lives/Upside Down Defeated AU, Various References to Movies and Television, Comedy, Meet Cute

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY to one of the loves of my fandom life, the gloriously talented @dr-aculaaa. Another year of life, another year of friendship, another year of YOU. I'm so honored to know you and share this fandom space with you. Thank you for all of your fics that bring myself and so many others so much comfort, all of your art that I don't even have words to appreciate properly. You deserve the world, but all I have to give is this fic.

You can find my masterlist here and Drac's wonderful Saturday Night series here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 1994

It all started after their bi-weekly movie night.

And it was Steve's week to choose, so that meant that this was his fault. Not Eddie's. Not in the slightest.

"Pardon my French but you're an asshole," Steve quoted snarkily into the receiver as he scanned in returns. "Asshole."

"Come on Harrington," Eddie scoffed on the other end. "You can't make us sit through Ferris Bueller's Day Off and not expect me to have a brilliant idea."

The thought did pass through Steve's mind when he'd shoved the tape into the VCR from amongst the haul that he'd brought home from Family Video. Maybe not the thought, but a thought that his friend would get some kind of idea from the spieling, silly high schooler.

Playing hooky had never crossed his mind, though.

"You're a loose cannon, Ed," Steve replied and then adjusted the receiver where it was cradled between his ear and his shoulder.

"Just like Bueller the Bard himself."

But the call had come on a boring Wednesday afternoon as Steve covered the floor while his coworker was at lunch, and he had listened to Eddie's ranting and raving about his perfect idea for their little friend group without an opportunity to object until Eddie was already asking if he was in.

In hindsight, Steve should've realized that something like this was bound to happen eventually. He hadn't realized how much of a secret fan of John Hughes' movies Eddie was until the metalhead was mouthing along to the movie as they watched. Turns out, during his recovery post-Vecna, he'd developed a taste for the popular teen films.

Talk about conformity.

"How can you expect us all to get a day off work on such short notice?" Steve ignored Eddie's previous statement.

"Well, I'm planning on calling in sick," Eddie explained. "And I already got Rob and Nance on board. That just leaves our very own Cameron Frye."

"I'm not Cameron."

"You most certainly are," Eddie chuckled haughtily. "Rich parents, fancy cars. Come on Steve. It's one day. Call in. Pretend you're sick. Shit, say your grandma died."

"Oh, like Nancy's not already using that excuse?" Steve asked.

"Bold of you to assume that Nancy is Sloane."

"We aren't characters in a movie, Eddie!"

"That's exactly what Cameron Frye would say."

Steve shouted unintelligibly and then slammed the receiver back onto the cradle repeatedly, effectively hanging up with Eddie...and scaring the customer that was about to walk in.

Despite Steve's initial protests, he still called in sick to work and showed up at Eddie's apartment alongside Nancy and Robin early Friday morning.

None of them really knew what to expect; this was Eddie's scheme, not theirs.

Robin and Nancy had taken what little they knew about the assignment to heart though. They'd dug through their closets for old clothes that felt more appropriate as homage to the movie--outfits that certainly threw Steve back into 1986.

Permed hair and textured fabrics. Nancy had an old fringe jacket that looked like it belonged to Sloane Peterson, shoulder pads and all. Robin went with more of a Ferris vibe and found a sweater vest that almost looked like his.

Steve, however, remained a stick in the mud and wore his typical casual attire: a polo and blue jeans.

A classic.

Of course, Steve had expected Eddie to be in his usual metalhead regalia. Upon seeing the others, he'd had a joke ready on his tongue for when Eddie opened the door with his leather jacket on--

"You supposed to be Charlie Sheen, Ed?"

--only for Eddie to appear in an almost exact replica of Ferris' red-and-grey striped bath robe. He would get dressed in his 1986 best when they were ready to leave.

"Come on," Eddie whined at Steve as he waved them inside. "What are you wearing? You weren't even gonna break out your old Red Wings jersey?"

"I'm not a Red Wings fan," Steve snarked.

"You could've asked for my jersey from field hockey," Robin interjected. “It looks like a red wings jersey.”

"I don't think a community college field hockey team would've been appropriate Rob.''

He just hadn't thought that dressing up would be important.

"Well," Eddie began, hands held out innocently as he interrupted their spat. "I knew you'd be apprehensive about the whole thing, so I got one for you. Consider it an early birthday present."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve sighed as he pushed past Eddie. "I did sit in my car and debate showing up for a good half-an-hour before I came here.”

"That's our Cameron," Eddie patted Steve's shoulder and then began telling the others his plan for the day.

There would be no going with the flow, no taking it easy, they were gonna relive the movie scene for scene if he had anything to say about it.

Zooming around Chicago to see the sights, a Cubs game, lunch at a nice restaurant, and finally the Art Institute for silent contemplation of color and form.

"Unfortunately there's no parade," Eddie pouted after he showed them how he'd modified Jeff's Cassio to play coughs and sneezes. "But, I'm happy to sing a metal cover of Danke Schoen in a private concert for the three of you when we go swimming at my buddy Joe's pool later this afternoon."

"You're not allowed to have a mental breakdown dingus," Robin stage-whispered in Steve's ear.

"Just as long as you guys don't total my car," Steve grumbled, knowing that he would be providing the wheels as none of them had access to a red Ferrari.

"You've really thought of everything Eddie." Nancy joked. "Have you called old Principal Higgins to chase us around the city too?"

"Ha ha," Eddie deadpanned and stuck his tongue out at her.

Steve watched as his three friends chatted and bickered excitedly over this idea and that, and he couldn't help the smile that bloomed on his face.

While he wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the plans, it was nice to hang around his friends again in such a lighthearted way.

"Alright!" Steve shouted, causing the others heads to turn towards him in shock. He blanched under their scrutiny but cleared his throat and stood up, hands on his hips. "Are we gonna hit the road? Or are we just gonna talk about the great time we're supposed to have?"

Eddie clapped his hands and snapped his fingers and then closed the distance so he could grab Steve's keys from his pocket.

"I was serious about the not totaling my car thing," Steve reprimanded.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Eddie nodded.

"Now, where's that hockey jersey?"

They cruised down Lake Shore Drive with the windows down and the music playing loudly; Eddie had made the perfect mixtape that suited all of their tastes.

"In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives," he droned in a poor impersonation of Ben Stein. "In an effort to alleviate the effects of the...anyone? Anyone?"

"Shut up and drive, doofus," Robin cackled and swatted at Eddie's head from the backseat.

It was the perfect day for a baseball game.

Actually, just perfect altogether.

75 and sunny, not a cloud in the sky.

Eddie couldn't have picked a better day to take off, and he thought of everything.

Even their goddamn seats were perfect.

"My dad got us tickets to see the Cubs once," Steve regaled them with a story as Eddie waved the hotdog vendor over. "And even he couldn't get us seats this good."

"I know it's not the seats they had in the movie," Eddie grinned as he passed a dog over to Steve. "But what can I say? I'm pretty great."

They all had a good time.

Steve was an avid baseball fan and had even played on the varsity team back at Hawkins High. He explained the plays to the others, and even found himself jumping to his feet to cheer along with the crowd when the Cubs made a triple play.

Eddie, who couldn't be caught dead at a sporting event unless his uncle was in tow, enjoyed the snacks and the cheap beer and the generally upbeat atmosphere. He listened to Steve's explanations and tried to cheer along with the others.

Even Nancy and Robin, who weren't the biggest baseball fans, admitted--once they had beers in their hands and a soft pretzel to share--that they had fun.

"You know Mike and Lucas are gonna be so jealous," Nancy laughed. "They always ask if I can get them tickets when they're in town."

"Those little nerds? Seriously?" Robin questioned.

"They used to play little league way back when," Nancy nodded. "They weren't very good but I think it's the only sport either of them really kept up with. Until Lucas joined the basketball team."

And in true Ferris Bueller fashion, Robin had to start the call of "Hey Battah Battah Battah, Sahwing Battah Battah!" as the visiting team went up to bat.

"He can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit, he can't hit," Nancy continued.

"Sah-wing Battah!" They all concluded in tandem before they fell into a fit of giggles.

It was during lunch that the day started to take a bit of a turn.

For Steve, at least.

"Alright," Nancy began as they arrived at their destination: a restaurant that was definitely out of their budget on a regular day, but today was a special one and they all could afford this one-time treat. "It's not Chez Quis, but this was the best reservation I could get on short notice."

Working for the Chicago Tribune had its perks, which both Nancy and Eddie took advantage of on behalf of their Day Off.

"Shhh," Eddie scolded. "Don't tell them that. I was supposed to plan this whole thing."

"Not such a hot shot after all," Robin quipped.

"At least I made the reservation under Froman," Nancy patted the metalhead's shoulder apologetically.

They ordered the lunch specials with an array of sandwiches on Turano sourdough, and hearty soups, and house-made potato chips. It was all rich food that soaked up the beers that they'd probably over-indulged in at Wrigley, as they sat and caught up on each others' lives.

"I'm up for a promotion at work," Nancy announced excitedly. "All that hard work and those late nights paid off."

"Well, I think I found a new apartment," Robin added on.

"You didn't tell me!" Nancy exclaimed.

"I was gonna surprise you," Robin shrugged. "And it's not like the place is really ours yet."

"Well the band is officially unofficially going on tour next month," Eddie surprised them with good news of his own. "I, uh, didn't think we were sharing things like that today so I was saving it til next week."

They all chattered over one another as Steve sat there taking it all in.

Each word a knife to his heart.

Steve had been the first one to disappear from Hawkins in favor of the Windy City after everything with Vecna in '86.

They'd all been broken in some ways--mind, body, spirit--and he just needed to get out. He'd had a choice back then, to escape to the city where he would be a faceless stranger, or to disappear into isolation of his family's old cabin up at the lake; both guaranteed him time alone, but he'd been driven to the city by ease of access to his friends.

And it might've taken a little while, but the others all followed suit and moved to the city too.

For a while, it was nice being a short drive or train ride away from his friends.

Of course, life got in the way.

School for Nancy and Robin, work for him, odd-jobs and music for Eddie. Recovery for all of them. Years passed and they simultaneously grew closer and further apart. Weekly movie nights turned bi-weekly, then there was always someone missing.

This unexpected outing together...well, it warmed Steve's heart.

They were all together, where he could protect them.

But as the others celebrated each other's triumphs, Steve slowly realized that while he'd been the first to escape Hawkins and find a new life, he was the last of his friends to actually live that life.

He was still at Family Video--a manager now, not just a key holder--and still drove the same car. He had no thoughts about the future, no ambitions. Hell, he'd renewed his lease for the same shitty studio apartment he'd lived in since he arrived in Chicago almost 8 years ago.

It was reliable and safe.

Now he realized, as he sat there amidst his friends' triumphs as they didn't even bother to look at him for something new and exciting, that it was boring.

He was boring.

Maybe he really was Cameron Frye.

He was still caught up in his contemplation when they arrived at the Art Institute.

The big, romanesque building was full of thoughts and inspirations from all over the world, but it was easier to get stuck in the sad little world that he'd built for himself in his head at lunch, than it was to get lost in layers of paints or sculpted bronze.

"I told you not to have a mental breakdown," Robin told him after she'd found him staring at the paper map he'd taken in the lobby, instead of any of the exhibits. "Talk to me, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Steve sniffed, and then tucked the map into his back pocket. He couldn't tell Robin and bring her down; this was a problem of his own making, and it was something he needed to work out on his own too.

"Let's go look at some paintings," he insisted.

Although they weren't in the actual movie, and the galleries were mostly silent, The Smiths' Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want continually played in Steve's head as they went from one room to the next.

What did he want? He wasn't sure.

They walked through the Miniatures Room and he looked at all of the tiny replicas of houses and interiors, and he wondered if he should be an architect. Could he go to college now? Was it too late? The city was always growing; he could certainly design a skyscraper!

And then they strolled through the Modern wing, and saw works by Dali, and as he felt his mind melt along with the surrealist clocks, he thought that he could be a psychologist of some sorts and reshape people's minds after they melted. Of course, that required more schooling than an architect; hmmm...that was a conundrum, wasn't it?

Maybe he would just be a wristwatch salesman instead. Or a grandfather clock repairman?

Of course, none of these things inspired the idea of becoming an artist; he just wasn't an art guy. He didn't understand what these things meant. To him, they were just things. A clock was a clock and a building was a building.

Nothing inspired any further contemplation, no thoughts or feelings.

He didn't even feel anything when he stared at the Seurat that Cameron Frye had his own internal spiral in front of, like he hoped he would.

Until he found himself in front of a massive painting, Hercules and the Lernaean Hydra.

And he started crying.

He didn't know why, really. He just did.

It wasn't a beautiful painting, to him. In fact, it was pretty bleak. Dark colors and hopelessness. Dead body in the corners and a multi-headed monster that Hercules had to face alone. Steve supposed it reminded him of his and his friends' trials in the Upside Down but...it didn't strike any sort of fear in him.

Only a deep...sorrow.

"This one made me cry the first time I saw it too," a voice came from Steve's side.

He cleared his throat and wiped the back of his hand across one eye with some shame, before a tissue was thrust before him.

He turned his head and found a woman, conspicuously looking up at the painting instead of at him to give him some privacy amidst this unexpected public show of emotion.

"Th-thanks," he spoke hoarsely and then took the tissue to dab at his tears. When he'd composed himself enough he continued. "Wh-why did this one make you cry?"

"Oh," the woman let out a throaty laugh and turned her head to him to shoot a gentle smile his way. "That's still a mystery, but I think if you're gonna have an existential crisis in front of a painting, this one is a good one to have it in front of."

She turned back to the painting and explained some things about it to Steve--the darkness and the light, the tension between good and evil, the uncertain outcome of the battle that Hercules would inevitably have to face even though the observers would never witness it--and the more she spoke, the more Steve was able to understand.

He saw himself in that painting, whether he realized it at first or not. The old him, back in Hawkins facing down literal monsters. And himself now, facing metaphorical ones.

"Of course," the woman continued and pointed to the plaque beside the painting. "Art is subjective. That's my interpretation of it. That says it's a political painting symbolizing war concerns in 19th Century France."

"Was that during the French Revolution?" Steve asked, thinking back to the World History class he had senior year.

"That's the 18th century, I think," she offered.

"Got it. You know what? I always get the numbers mixed up."

"I do too. You were close enough."

They chuckled in tandem.

"Well, I could definitely use a tour guide like you if I want to make heads or tails of anything in this place," Steve offered a compliment. "I've been struggling with it since I got here."

He looked around the room--his friends were nowhere to be found--then back at the woman. She still held that gentle expression, lips upturned in a smile and Steve felt a bubble of butterflies in his stomach as that smile grew wider and caused her freckle-dusted cheeks to become rounder and more pronounced.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "I could show you a couple of my other favorites on this floor. I was on my way to go and see them, actually, and snap a few pictures."

He finally noticed the small Minolta hanging from the strap around her neck.

"I don't want to intrude," he held his hands out in front of him, trying to refuse her offer politely.

"No, it's no intrusion, if I was already going to go," she shook her head. "Besides, I like to tout my superior knowledge over the ignorant."

Steve scoffed and chuckled, "I wouldn't say ignorant."

"Alright mister," she folded her arms over her chest. "Then I'll show you my favorites and we'll see how you interpret them, before I tell you what they really mean."

"I thought art was subjective."

"Oh we have a witty one, folks. I hope you know the rest of your history better than you know about the 18th century."

"I'm actually really good at history," Steve announced boastfully.

Actually, history was one of those things that he knew a ton about. Maybe he could be a history teacher or something some day.

"Let's go then, smarty pants," his new friend announced.

She turned and walked towards the next room with Steve hot on her heels. She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder; her eyes roamed up and down his body for a second and Steve felt his cheeks get warm.

"I'm Sally, by the way," she finally introduced herself.

"Hi Sally," he greeted. "I'm Steve."

After the Art Institute, they'd gone to Eddie's buddy's place out in the suburbs for a dip in the pool, before it got late and they called it a day. They'd dropped Robin and Nancy off then headed back to Eddie's.

"What'd you think Harrington?" Eddie grinned expectantly as he and Steve got out of the car.

"It was pretty cool," Steve shrugged.

"Pretty cool?!" Eddie exclaimed, tossing his hands in the air. "Pretty cool, he says, when he got some girl's number. You know, you wouldn't have gotten it if we hadn't have gone. When was the last time you went on a date Steve? Huh?"

"What do you want me to say?" Steve laughed at his friend's antics. "'Oh thank you, oh great Eddie, for having this brilliant idea. I had the best day of my life?'"

"Yes."

"Well it's not gonna happen."

"Save it for your wedding day then," Eddie mocked and stuck his tongue out.

"Uh huh." There was a beat before Steve continued. "It was a good day off, though, Eddie. I think I really needed it. More than I realized. Thanks for making us have one."

"Thanks for coming along," Eddie said in return.

He handed the keys to the car back to their rightful owner and clapped Steve on the shoulder. He was about to head into his building when Steve called out to him.

"You know what?" Steve asked.

"What?"

"I think Ferris got one thing right."

"Oh yeah?" Eddie grinned. "I thought you were staunchly against Mr. Bueller's antics."

"Yeah well," Steve shrugged. "A broken clock is always right twice a day."

"And what was he right about?"

Steve thought about the day for a moment. About all of the places they went and things they saw. The thoughts and feelings and people. A whole world that was out there that he never thought about until that day.

A whole person he never would've met if he hadn't gone out with his friends.

He looked back at Eddie and smiled.

"'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.'"

Eddie walked out of the bathroom and into the communal space of the apartment.

It had been a long day. A good one, but a long one nonetheless, and he started to wonder if he was getting too old for these kinds of shenanigans. But goddamn it! He was still young! Not even thirty!

Still, he couldn't do these hours-long adventures around the city. His muscles were sore and his brain practically mush.

He'd lit up as soon as he'd gotten home and now he was ready to stretch out on the couch and let himself melt into relaxation.

And he was about to when he noticed...

You.

You sat on the other side of that screen and stared at him. You sat there and read these words.

He blinked twice then he sighed.

"You're still here?" he asked you and took a few steps closer. "Come on, I know that we're trying to recreate the full Ferris Bueller experience but it's over. Go home."

You continued reading.

"Go!" he waved you away dismissively and then fell onto the couch with a groan. "Go!"

You scrolled down to the end of the post.

bum bum. chick. chicka chicka.

#steve harrington x oc #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #drac <3 #eddie munson #stranger things gen fic #steve and sally

47 notes · View notes

middleearthpixie · 2 years ago

Text

Better Days ~ Chapter Six

A/N: This is the follow up to Playing With Fire, but can be read as a standalone. I thought Frerin deserved a nice, steamy romp just like his older brother got with Leda, so this is his story. I know I’ve got like three other fics to update, but I thought maybe I’d throw this out there and see what everyone thought of it…

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it.

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings: Modern!Frerin x ofc Elena Madison

Characters:Frerin, Carol Kingsley, Ashley, Vanessa, Flynn, Maura, Jake

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Frerin stared at his inbox as if it had personally insulted him. How did the paperwork double in the span of a day? It seemed like he no sooner beat the stack into submission before it sprouted up three more inches. A hydra of JCAHO, Medicare, Medicaid, and insurance forms, all needing to be filled out, reviewed, or signed and when he did, more would just reappear. It never ended.

His pager went off as he reached for the first binder-clipped sheaf of papers. They went ignored as he glanced down at the number. Three-three-one-five. The ER. It was nearly three in the morning and things had been quiet, so he’d managed to plow through at lease some of the paperwork. But a page to the ER at that hour was never anything good.

His chair squeaked as he rolled back from his desk and stood, hooking a finger in the neck of his lab coat to swing it around. His new pink stethoscope lay coiled on his desk, compliments of Jerry, who handled procurement, and he smiled as he picked it up to drape about his neck. It was Thursday night, well, technically early Friday morning, and he had about three hours left in his shift. He’d go home in time to get the kids ready to go to school, and then come tomorrow morning, they’d be going off with Toni for the weekend and he was not looking forward to it. As the week had progressed, Jake grew more and more insistent that he didn't want to go with his mother and as much as Frerin wished he could just let him stay home, he knew Toni would be on the phone with her lawyer so fast, his head would spin.

Lawyers. Arguments. Court dates. Those were what filled his free time and while he’d sat in on meetings with the hospital lawyers for various reasons, he’d never had to keep one on retainer until last winter. He found that all things considered, he preferred when he didn't have a lawyer on speed dial.

The pediatric ward was quiet, the rooms all mostly dark, the nurses, doctors, orderlies all walked softly and spoke in hushed tones. The nurses had been busy decorating the floor with red and green garlands, a six foot tall blue spruce tree stood in the corner across from the desk, draped with paper chains he’d seen some of the kids in the pediatric unit gluing together earlier. Candy canes and colored balls of varying size hung from the branches and a menorah stood on the desk itself.

“If anyone needs me,” he said, pausing by the desk, “I’ll be down in the ER.”

“Go with God, Dr. Durin,” Angela said. “It’s a zoo down there tonight. I bumped into Carol Kingsley earlier and she said they’ve got them stacked three deep in some areas. Christmas parties in addition to the bar mayhem.”

“I just hope none of them are kids,” he replied softly.

Angela’s eyes grew sympathetic. “They paged you down, Frerin. That can’t be good.”

“I know.” He rubbed his eyes and then rapped his knuckles lightly against the desk. “Keep your fingers crossed just the same.”

“Will do.”

Labor and Delivery and the Neo-Natal ICU were at the far end of the corridor and he passed by them on his was to the elevators. The walls in the Pedes ward were bright and festive, but down here, the colors were sedate and tranquil—mostly soft blue and pale dusty rose—and it was noisier as well. Especially in the NICU, where monitors and alarms went off seemingly nonstop. Labor and Delivery was quiet for the moment, but that could always change in the blink of an eye.

When his own kids were babies, Frerin had a hard time just looking at the NICU. Jake was six weeks premature and had spent some time there and Frerin remembered all too well how awful it felt to be in that small room, standing over his newborn son, helpless despite all of his medical knowledge and training to do anything more.

There were two couples and one single woman doing just that over three separate hospital bassinets now and Frerin sighed softly as the NICU team swarmed around the single woman’s child, monitors blaring, a doctor gently—but firmly—moving the mother (Frerin assumed she was the mother) aside.

He tried not to think about it as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in, but as the doors began to slide shut, the woman looked over at him and her expression was a like a punch to the gut. He’d seen it before, more times than he’d cared to think about—pleading, resigned, and numb all in one exhausted face.

The doors slid shut and he leaned against the back wall with a sigh. Sunday couldn't get here soon enough. He looked forward to seeing Elena again.

He looked forward to kissing her again.

It had been a long time since the thought of a woman sent anticipation fluttering through him, but Elena did just that. He couldn't stop thinking about her—her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes sparkled, the feel of her against him. He wanted to feel that again. Soon.

The doors opened into chaos. The ER always picked up when the bars closed at two AM and the holiday situation only made it worse. He stepped out into the hallway, and was promptly grabbed by a guy parked in the hallway.

“You a doc?”

“Yes, I am, but,” Frerin jerked his wrist free, “I’m not a grownup doctor.”

“So we’ve heard. What are you doing down here again?”

“Funny.” He looked over at Carol. “I was paged, where’s the kid?”

Carol shook her head as she snapped on a pair of gloves. “I don't know. I didn't page you.”

The guy on the gurney grabbed for him again. “Hey, doc, you aren’t doing anything important, take a look at my foot, will you?”

“Pipe down, Tony,” Carol snapped, moving to the end of his gurney. “What did you do this time?”

“I put my foot through a fucking picture frame, that’s what.”

She sighed. “How did you manage that?”

“I dunno. I’m clumsy.”

This time, Tony reached for her, and Frerin snagged his wrist before he could grab her. “Enough. Let her look at it. Carol, if you need me to stitch it—”

“Mark’s coming. He’s dealing with another frequent flyer in Curtain Two, it won’t be long.”

“You touch Nurse Kingsley again,” Frerin turned to Tony, “and you go in restraints. Got it?”

“Yeah, man. I got it.”

“Good.” Frerin released him. “Carol, he gives you any more trouble—”

“Security isn’t far.” She smiled up at him as she peeled off Tony’s bloody sock. “Go.”

Frerin skirted them to make his way to the front desk. “Someone paged me?”

“Dr. D,” Ashley smiled up at him, “I did. We’ve got a nine year old in anaphylactic shock rolling up in five.”

“Do we know what caused it?”

“No. Collins didn't say.”

“Okay. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee. Let me know when they get here.”

He crossed over to the lounge and sighed at the nearly-empty coffee pot left on the burner, which baked the last remnants of the previous pot into the glass. “Wonderful.”

He’d just put the pot in to soak when the door banged open and a nurse in dark green said, “Dr. Durin? Rig’s pulling up with your anaphylaxis kid.”

“What’s open?”

“Trauma One.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She bobbed her head and the door swung shut. He grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, then hurried back out to Trauma One just as the paramedics wheeled in the nine year old. “Give me the bullet.”

“Max Gonzales,” the paramedic said, “nine years old, apparently allergic to cashews and only found out about half an hour ago. Mom and dad are on their way. His BP is—”

Frerin listened with one ear as he smiled down at the wheezing, dark-haired boy on the gurney. “Hi, Max. Can you understand me?”

Max nodded.

“Good.” Frerin let his hand skim lightly along Max’s tousled dark hair. “I’m Dr. Durin and I know you’re having trouble breathing, but it’s going to be okay, all right? Your mom and dad will be here in a few minutes, but I’ve got you.”

“I—can’t—br—breathe…”

“I know. And I’m going to fix that for you, promise.” He looked over at the nurse who’d alerted him to the rig rolling up. She had to be new, because he had no idea who she was. “I’m sorry, I don't know your name.”

“Vanessa.”

“Vanessa, let’s start with point-three of epi, IM.”

She nodded. “On it.”

“Good.” He turned back to Max. “Hang in there, buddy. Medicine’s coming.”

Max reached for him, and Frerin smiled as he caught the boy’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Max.”

Max’s fingers tightened about his as Vanessa administered the epinephrine, and within a few seconds, his breathing eased. Frerin eased his hand from Max’s and fit his stethoscope ear pieces in, then slid the diaphragm under the boy’s dinosaur pajama top. “Can you sit up for me, Max?”

“I think so.”

He did as Frerin asked, stiffening slightly when Frerin slid the stethoscope over his back. “I know, it’s a little cold and I’m sorry about that. It’ll warm up quickly.” He moved it from left to right, then down lightly and back to the left.

“Sounds pretty good, buddy. Is breathing easier now?”

Max nodded. “A lot easier.”

“Good.” He looked up at Vanessa and bobbed his head. “Let’s put him on point-seven albuterol and move him into a quiet room for observation. Are his parents here yet?”

With that, the doors to the trauma room opened and Ashley said, “Dr. Durin, I’ve got Mr. And Mrs Gonzales.”

“Perfect timing.” Frerin pulled the earpiece free and draped the stethoscope about his neck. “I’m Dr. Durin. Did you know Max was allergic to cashews?”

“No. He’s never been allergic to anything,” Mrs. Gonzales replied, staring at her son with glinting eyes. “He’s a healthy kid.”

“What were you doing eating nuts in the middle of the night, kiddo?” Mr. Gonzales asked. “You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I was hungry.”

“Well, next time, maybe have something else,” Frerin told him. “At least, have something you know you can eat. Mom, Dad, I think it’d be a good idea to set up an appointment with an allergist, so we don't have to do this again.”

Mrs. Gonzales looked from her son to him. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Don’t worry, we can give you a few names,” Vanessa assured her with a smile.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Gonzales looked back at him and gestured to her son with one hand. “Can I touch him?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sure.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to come closer. “We’re just going to move him to a quieter room and keep an eye on him for a little while, but I don't think he’ll need to be admitted. Vanessa, would go with them?”

“Of course.” She smiled as one of the residents wheeled Max toward the doors.

“Thank you, Dr. Durin,” Mr. Gonzales said softly, his hand at the small of his wife’s back.

“I’ll come by in a bit to check on him. Vanessa, any changes, let me know at once.”

“Will do, doctor.”

The doors swung shut and the room was strangely quiet. He glanced up at the clock. Ten to four. Two more hours.

His pager went off and he sighed as he reached up to rub his eyes. NICU. Fuck.

The house was quiet and dark when he pulled into the driveway and as he killed the Infiniti’s engine, Frerin leaned his head back and let his eyes close. Working with kids was great most of the time, but like he told Elena, when it went south, it was horrible.

The human body was as fragile as it was resilient and some of the worst moments of his career were those when he had to pronounce an infant. Those moments aged him. When his kids were younger, he’d come off a shift like this one and just stand over their bassinet, their crib, their toddler bed, and silently thank whatever higher power was at work in making sure his children remained healthy and whole.

They were older now, but his need to check on them hadn’t waned. He went inside, crept noiselessly up the main staircase, and began in Flynn’s room, which took a bit of navigational skill, as it often looked like a bomb had gone off in there. But, his firstborn was sound asleep, snoring like a buzzsaw, as Toni used to say about him.

Maura was next. Her room was far neater than her brother’s and definitely girlier, with its soft pink walls and sheer pink curtains dotted with silver sequins in a butterfly pattern. A salt lamp glowed from pink to blue to purple on the small wood and tile-top table she’d made the previous year in woodshop and she was sound asleep beneath the fluffy pink comforter that was part of the bedding set he and Toni had given her for Christmas the previous year.

He bent over to lightly kiss her forehead, smiling as she mumbled, “Go ’way,” and rolled over to offer him her back.

He tugged the comforter up to her shoulder and crept from her room to Jake’s, at the end of the hall closest to the bedroom Frerin once shared with Toni. With a soft sigh, Frerin just gazed down at his baby. He was almost eleven years old, but to Frerin, he would always be his baby and asleep, as the others did, Jake looked even younger.

Pulling Jake’s door by, Frerin stepped out into the hallway and sighed softly as he made his way to his own bedroom, where he unknotted his dark blue and silver swirled tie, and then unbuttoned his pale blue dress shirt. The tie went back on the rack in the closet, his belt on the hook alongside it, and as he came back out of the closet, he tossed the shirt and his socks into the laundry basket on the floor alongside his high chest of drawers. His trousers would go into the pile to go to the cleaners before work on Saturday, and clad in only his dark gray Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he padded into the bathroom and started the shower.

He stood under the hot spray, eyes closed, water sluicing down along his temples, soaking into his beard, pounding over his shoulders. He made no move to reach for soap or shampoo, unable to get that NICU mom out of his mind. Her name was Amelia, she was seventeen years old, and her family disowned her because of the baby girl she’d given birth to not quite twenty-four weeks along. And there was nothing he could do for her daughter. Nothing the hospital could do. The only thing he could do was look up at the clock, pronounce her daughter’s time of death and offer his condolences. And when he did, she just stared up at him for a long moment and then whispered, “Is that it?”

He’d nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

She’d bobbed her head, her bottom lip quivering, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Then she’d bowed her head and one of the NICU nurses eased an arm about her shoulders, while he filled out the paperwork. When he’d finished, Amelia was on the phone, not crying, but she sounded almost dazed and when he’d passed by, she reached out to catch his wrist and thanked him.

Thanked him.

He did nothing to be thanked for and yet—

She’d thanked him.

“Fuck.” He reached for the shampoo.

When he emerged, in a cloud of steam, he felt more like himself and when he came down into the kitchen and heard Flynn and Maura arguing over who was the better goalie, Richter or Lundvist, he chimed in with, “Shesterkin has them both beat,” as he crossed to the Keurig.

“That’s what I said,” Jake broke in. “And they ignored me.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a cup,” Flynn said.

“Neither does Hank and you’re throwing his name out regardless,” Frerin tugged open the drawer below the counter, where the K-Cups were kept, and took out a Folger’s Black Silk pod. “And why are you fighting about hockey anyway? Did I miss something last night?”

“No. Boston kicked the shit out of the Rangers.”

“Flynn, mouth.”

He shook his longish dark hair out of his eyes. “Sorry, Dad. How was your shift?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why? What happened?” This came from Maura, who set her spoon against the side of her bowl. “Did you lose someone, Dad?”

“Yeah. A micropreemie. But, I also saved a kid from anaphylaxis, so there’s that.”

“What’s anaphylaxis?” Jake asked.

“He was allergic to cashews and had trouble breathing. But, he got the ER in time and will go home with his parents later today.” Frerin took the cup from the tray on the Keurig and brought it up for a much needed sip. “Did you all get your homework done?”

“Yeah.” Maura sighed. “Flynn had to help me with my algebra homework. Why do I even have to learn this? When will I ever use it again?”

To Frerin’s surprise, Flynn nudged her shoulder with his. “You’ll get it. It’s just that Mrs. Henderson is old and a crappy teacher. Nobody who has her understands algebra because she’s a dinosaur who doesn’t remember how to teach it.”

“It’s still stupid. And I have a test on Monday. I’m never gonna pass it.”

“I’ll help you over the weekend. Bring your stuff when we go to Mom’s.”

Maura wrinkled her nose and Frerin braced himself as her blue eyes met his. “Do we have to go to Mom’s this weekend? We’re seeing her on Christmas, isn’t that enough? I can’t stand that stupid boyfriend of hers.”

“Yes, you do and no, it’s not. In that order.” Frerin lowered his cup. “And what’s wrong with him?”

She just shot him a look. “Are you serious, Dad?”

“Yeah. I’m dead serious.”

“Well, for starters, it’s just like the last time. He’s overly friendly, like he wants to prove he doesn’t hate us just for existing, but you just know he wishes Mom would just not want us to come over.” Maura flung herself against the back of her chair with enough force it rocked back slightly. “And he’s just so skeezy.”

That made Frerin straighten up. “Skeezy how?”

“He’s like a used car salesman,” Flynn broke in, “all big teeth, cheesy smile, and back slaps. I want to dick punch him. He’s just such an ass.”

Frerin bit back a smile. “Ignore him. Your mother is the one you’re there to see. And as long as he keeps his distance…”

“You know, Dad,” Maura grinned up at him, “you didn't tell us how your date went the other night and you were home by eleven. Was it that bad? Tell me it wasn’t that bad, please.”

“No,” he shook his head, moving to the table to sit across from them, “it wasn’t bad at all, but it also wasn't a date.”

“You went to dinner,” Jake told him pointedly. “Isn’t that a date?”

“We didn't go out to dinner. That’s this Sunday.”

“Mom’s gonna flip,” Maura chuckled. “She asks about you, you know.”

“Maur, don't even go there,” he told her softly, shaking his head.

“I know, but she does. And are we going to get to meet this mystery woman?”

“In time, if things go well. But, I promise you, she is not a skeezy used car salesman type at all.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “You two should get going.”

“Yeah, I know,” Flynn signed as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “Dad, you cannot possibly do any worse than Mom has.”

“Well, that’s something.” Frerin grinned at his oldest. “Drive carefully and make sure Jake eats something besides Frosted Flakes for dinner tonight.”

“Dad, when do you go back on days?”

He looked over at Jake. “Not until after the New Year. It’s only a few more weeks.”

“I hate when you work nights.”

“Yeah, I’m not too crazy about it, either, but that’s being a grownup, bud. You sometimes have to work the overnight shift when you don't want to.”

“Just think,” Maura rose from her chair and deposited her cereal bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, “in a few years, you’ll be able to throw parties when Dad’s working graveyard.”

Jake’s eyes lit, but before he could say anything, Frerin broke in, “I’ll hire a night nanny for you if that’s a possibility.”

“You never let us have any fun.” Maura slung her backpack over her left shoulder.

“I know. Mean Dad strikes again. Have a good day, both of you and Flynn—”

“I know,” he sighed, “I’ll drive carefully.”

“Humor your old man, okay?”

The two of them thudded out of the kitchen and a moment later, the front door slammed. Jake sighed softly, setting his spoon down. “I really do hate when you work nights.”

“I know. I really don't like it, either, but sometimes, I have to work the shifts no one else can. That’s what being the boss means.”

“I thought it meant telling everyone what to do.”

“Well, there’s that, but it’s also picking up the slack when no one else can, either. And right now, my department is understaffed.”

“Where are all the doctors?”

“That, Jake, is a good question. Budget cuts make hiring staff and keeping staff more difficult when private hospitals don't have that problem and can lure good doctors away.”

“Why don't you do that? Aren’t you a good doctor?”

Frerin grinned. “I hope I am, but I’m happy where I am. I like where I am.”

“Mom used to get mad when you did the overnights. Is that why she left?”

Frerin sighed. Jake didn't know and he wasn't about to tell him the real reason why he and Toni were divorcing. “No, it’s a lot more complicated than that. Your mother and I just can’t live together any more.”

Jake sighed softly. “I hate that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Frerin reached out to rumple his thick auburn hair. “But sometimes, life throws crappy stuff at you. This is one of those times.”

Jake looked up at him. “But, if Mom said she was sorry—”

“We’ve had this discussion,” Frerin broke in gently, “and that’s not going to happen, Jake. Like I’ve said, the day will come when you will understand and you’ll realize we did the right thing. It’s better for you and Maura and Flynn.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will.”

“One day, right?”

Frerin nodded. “One day, I promise.” He glanced up at the clock. “We should get you off to school, buddy. Go get your stuff.”

Jake slid down from his chair and strode out of the kitchen to head up to his room. As his footfalls sounded overhead, Frerin sank back in his chair and sighed. One day.

It couldn't come soon enough.

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Modern AU #ER AU #Hospital AU #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fin #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

29 notes · View notes

applepato · 2 years ago

Text

Here’s a lil something I wrote for this year’s May Trope Mayhem! I’ve been meaning to do something for this challenge all month and now I’ve finally finished my college project so I can focus more on writing :]

Fandom: Sanders Sides Tags: analogical, virgil is a vampire, biting, kissing Prompt: Vampiric Feeding Wordcount: 1312 AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47175820

“Virgil?” Logan called, voice echoing through the seemingly-empty apartment. “Are you here?”

It was a stupid question, really, Logan thought. Being a vampire, Virgil was unable to go outdoors during the day, for fear of becoming a pile of ash by the side of the road, and from what Logan could tell, Virgil didn’t leave all that much during the night either. He preferred to get deliveries from the local butcher shop rather than seek out a more lively source of food.

That was one of the reasons Logan hadn’t immediately run for the hills upon realising his roommate was a vampire - that and the way his eyes glowed softly, drawing Logan's gaze wherever he went...

Logan shook himself out of his musings with a frown. Now was not the time to be daydreaming.

“Virgil?” he called again, knocking on his roommate’s door. “Are you okay? I was going to watch March of the Penguins, would you like to join-”

The door burst open and Logan jumped back, startled.

His roommate stood in front of him, wearing ripped black jeans and a black tank top in place of his usual hoodie. Logan carefully didn’t stare at the vampire’s exposed skin and forced himself to meet his eyes. His eyes that were- exhausted.

Deep black shadows hung underneath his eyes and, for once, Logan didn’t think there was any makeup involved. Even the bright purple of his irises seemed more dull than normal. He swayed slightly on the spot, his naturally pale skin almost translucent in the faint light shining from the closed hallway curtains.

Logan put his hands out as if to steady Virgil, and said, alarmed, “Virgil? Are you quite alright?”

“Oh, hey Logan. Yeah, I’m okay- just-” he shuddered a bit, “Just hungry.”

Logan widened his eyes. “You haven’t eaten? Wait here, I will get you some-”

“There isn’t any.” Virgil interrupted.

“What do you mean? Surely, there should be some left over from Friday’s delivery.”

Virgil shook his head. “There wasn’t a delivery on Friday. James texted me saying there was a delay and that I’d have to wait till next week. I thought I had enough in the freezer but there’s none left.”

"Shit.”

Despite his state, Virgil laughed. “Yep, that about sums it up.”

Logan’s brain was whirring, running through all the possible options and discarding them just as fast.

Logan could go out and buy some blood? Nope, it was 5pm on a Saturday, the butcher’s wouldn’t open again until Monday.

Virgil could just wait until then? No, Virgil had told Logan that vampires could only last around three days at most without eating and any longer than twenty-four hours could be detrimental to their health, as demonstrated by the shaky man standing in front of him.

…Virgil could go out and hunt? Logan shuddered. Virgil would never. And anyway, aside from the obvious moral issue, Virgil was in no fit state to do that at the moment.

Fresh animal blood was always a possibility, however wild animals would be exceptionally difficult to catch for a sick vampire and domesticated animals were not an option.

Ah.

Logan had a solution.

“Bite me,” he said bluntly.

“What? Logan, no-”

Logan interrupted him, looking right into his eyes, “Virgil, the next chance you will have to get blood will be Monday morning, and with your current state, I sincerely doubt you will make it that far. At least, not without serious damage to your physical health.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his self-preservation instincts were screaming at him to stop offering himself up on a figurative platter to a hungry vampire, but the louder part of his mind was inexplicably focused on the sheen of sweat across Virgil’s face and the slight tremors running through his body. This was logical. This would save Virgil and come at little cost to himself.

Provided Virgil was able to control himself.

Well, no time to back out now; Virgil still seemed unsure but he nodded slowly and muttered a small, “Okay.”

He gestured into his room. “Should we- Maybe it would be best to do it in here? You’ll be able to sit down on the bed if you need.”

The two entered Virgil’s room and turned to face each other. Virgil was close enough that Logan could count the freckles dusting his cheeks. Or he would’ve been able to had he not been distracted by trying to keep his breathing even.

“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

Logan nodded, cleared his throat, and said, “Yes. This is the logical solution.”

“Right,” Virgil took a breath - out of habit rather than necessity. “It might hurt a bit, just at first.”

And he stepped closer, until they were only inches apart. Logan hadn’t really noticed the height difference between the two of them until now. Virgil’s mouth exactly lined up with Logan's neck.

The sensation of Virgil cupping his hand around the back of Logan’s neck surprised him, goosebumps tingling across his skin. Virgil moved his head closer, opened his mouth and sank his teeth into Logan’s skin.

A small gasp escaped Logan’s mouth as Virgil’s needle-sharp teeth pierced him. Although he had expected the pain, a warning wasn’t enough to dim the shock.

A moment passed and Logan began to feel a tugging sensation in his neck. It didn’t hurt anymore; if anything, it was bordering on pleasant. Logan supposed that was an evolutionary tactic to keep prey from struggling too much.

Logan didn’t struggle.

He let Virgil push him gently back into the wall behind them. Without thinking, he placed his hands on the shorter man’s waist, tugging him closer until they were pressed together. It may have been Logan’s imagination, but he could’ve sworn as his own body was drained of warmth, Virgil’s usual chill seemed to lessen slightly.

And just as lightheadedness began to creep up on him, Virgil pulled away. Logan swayed for a moment and his roommate caught his arm, worry clear in his violet eyes.

“I’m sorry, did I go too far?” There was an edge of panic to his voice.

Logan shook his head, although he did let Virgil guide him to the bed where he sat down gratefully. Virgil took a seat next to him and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Logan offered a smile.

Virgil nodded, although he still seemed unsure of himself. There was a silence, broken only by the tapping of Virgil’s fingers; a full meal always left him with a burst of energy.

Logan couldn’t help but admire the vampire, so different from the person who had opened the door fifteen minutes ago. His face, although still much paler than Logan’s, was tinged pink, his eyes were glowing a soft iridescent purple, and he just seemed stronger. Less likely to blow away in a summer breeze.

Virgil turned towards him and, before he could think about the absurdity of what he was about to do, Logan leaned forward and kissed him.

It barely lasted a few seconds before Logan came to his senses and pulled back. “I apologise,” he said quickly, “I should have-”

He broke off as Virgil surged forward and met his lips with just as much enthusiasm as Logan himself. Logan’s mind went static-blank for a second before his brain caught up with the current situation.

The taste of iron inevitably met his tongue, his own blood sweetened by the delicate touch of Virgil’s mouth. Virgil put one hand on Logan’s waist and the other behind his neck, fingers accidentally brushing the bite mark in a way that made Logan shiver.

It was a long moment of overwhelming sensation before the two finally broke apart. Virgil smiled shyly. “Thank you. For, you know, letting me bite you.”

Logan smiled back as he realised he really wouldn’t mind being bitten again.

#may trope mayhem #may trope mayhem 2023 #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #analogical

18 notes · View notes

st-eve-barnes · 2 years ago

Text

It's not a good week for my anxiety.

This morning my husband's train was stopped because there was an "unruly" passenger on board and they brought in the police to get him off the train, their train stood still for about 15 minutes with that guy free to move around while they waited for the police to arrive. (With all the knife attacks on public transport here lately of course that stressed me the fuck out) He ended up going with the police without any issues, husband wasn't freaked out at all just extremely annoyed that his train got delayed by over 40 minutes.

Then last night I heard the news that someone from our con group had been diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. I don't know her very well, she's more a friend of a friend and we all follow each other on Insta and see each other at the cons, but somehow hearing that my anxiety really kicked in. She was fine last week, diagnosed on Friday and starting chemo today. I've read about survival chances online and I had to stop cause it wasn't good at all. Your life can fall apart so quickly and there's nothing you can do about it. And she's such a young girl as well, it's devastating and really made me so sad for her and then scared that anyone else in my close circle would get sick (it's one of my biggest fears) My aunt is currently in her final stages of a +5 year long battle against cancer that's metastasized pretty much everywhere in her body now, they're not expecting her to live through this year.

It's such a horrible, shit disease and we're still so helpless against it.

So yeah, I'm not in the best headspace right now, I just want to drown myself in Aemond fics and fandom and forget about this real world for a while and consider myself so lucky that I have the luxury to even be able to do that.

#personal #anxiety #cancer #life is fleeting and health is everything

15 notes · View notes

melodylnoelle · 2 years ago

Text

Unresolved

The Cards Have Spoken - Week 13 (@brightsun-and-darkmidnight ’s cards)

Hello! So there are some changes with The Cards Have Spoken. This one was from a few weeks ago, but we have both been tied up with life and with other projects. We are going to only be doing one card pull a month for now, and will be posting our other projects more often. I am also going to be posting the cards for brightsun-and-darkmidnight’s card pulls on Wednesdays now, and my own on Fridays so that we are posting the same cards on the same day.

Ok! Now to the fun part.

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: Thor x Asgardian!reader (past) Category: Angst - Self-Sacrifice Relationship: Ex-Lovers AU: A/B/O Warnings/Notes: Character death (self-sacrifice as mentioend above) and grief // It is 1 in the morning and I am sick of looking at this absolute piece of trash, so please forgive any typos and I will fix them later // For these, we are setting it to a minimum of 500 words. You can use these same cards for your own story if you like, but please tag me and @brightsun-and-darkmidnight so that we can see what you do! This was a different one for me, for sure. Please enjoy Words: 2988 Summary: When a mission from Odin goes south, there’s only one way to make sure the crowned prince makes it out alive. Masterlist

You turned over in your mind the way that this had gone absolutely sideways.

The whole thing seemed doomed from the start, if you were honest. Odin had wanted for Thor to go in and gather information that could be used to force a treaty with the creatures that had laid seize on Vanaheim. He could have sent anyone else with Thor. The Warriors Three would have been a good choice, but they were as bold as Thor himself, and Odin wanted covert. He could have sent Loki, but sending both princes on such a dangerous mission? Not a likely choice for him, even if Loki hadn’t seemingly been otherwise occupied at the time. And ultimately, Odin thought it best if very few went on a mission to make it as secret as possible, and he needed someone to reign Thor in.

That, of course, had made his mind jump to you. His bodyguard and protector.

If you hadn’t known better, you would have thought Odin was messing with you on purpose when he summoned you in the throne room to tell you and send you on your way. You were just beginning to get over everything that had happened between you and Thor. It had been difficult while still having to be around him, but in the recent days, it had gotten easier. You had even lost the ‘melancholy face’, as Loki had so endearingly put it.

But no, Odin couldn’t have been messing with you. There was no way he even knew that the two of you had dated in the first place. The whole reason Thor gave that he would date you in secret but not mate with you was because he was worried that Odin wouldn’t have approved of anyone who was not loyal or of high standing.

And then he went and mated with an Asgardian anyway. Someone Odin absolutely did not approve of.

A crashing sound brought your attention back to the present. You shook your head, Standing from your crouch, you wanted around the corner of the room to see that Thor had completely ignored the idea of taking the two in the room out stealthily. I guess it didn’t matter all that much – your presence had already been noticed anyway. This was just going to make it clearer where you had been.

“You couldn’t have done that without making so much noise?” you asked as you joined him in the room.

“Where’s the fun it that, then?” Thor jested back.

You chuckled in spite of yourself. Really, you had expected no different if you were being honest with yourself.

“We should leave before we lose the opportunity to. They do have ears, you know.”

“Agreed.” He strode out of the room. His body tensed immediately as he walked through the door frame, and you heard why.

“Ah, Norns, here we go,” you said as you steadied your sword in front of you.

The footsteps took the form of a band of the Marauders as they rounded the corner. It was still a wonder to you how they had been able to take over this area of the realm in the first place, seeing as the technology here far overreached what they seemed capable of. But then, they had the numbers, and had taken the Vanir that had been here off-guard enough that they had chosen to retreat.

This was just a small group of them, but still enough to start a nervous sweat beading on your forehead. There were, after all, only two of you, and you were far off from making your exit at this point.

The two of you settled back into an old, established rhythm without really having to think about it. You stood back to back, letting them circle you so you could watch each other’s backs. Your sword clashed with theirs, filling your ears with the ringing of metal on metal. Mjolnir whirred as Thor swung it at the attackers, sending several of them flying against the far wall. The stone walls cracked but stayed standing, and you knew without looking that they would be laying unconscious as you slew the last of the ones on your side with a thrust of your sword.

You turned to Thor on instinct. No visible wounds, just heavy breaths from both of you that filled the space between you.

“Just like old times,” Thor said with a slight smile.

It was supposed to be a light-hearted jest, and you knew it. But you couldn’t help the way it made you grind your teeth together. “Not exactly like old times, no.”

You started to turn away from him, but he stopped you with a hand on your arm. “I am sorry for how things ended between us, you know.”

You huffed out a sigh. “You want to talk about this now?”

“When better? Besides, you brought it up.”

“What do you want? Do you want me to tell you it’s alright? That I forgive you for the way things went? Because it’s not alright.”

“I just want you to understand that it was never to slight you.”

“It does not matter if it was or not.” In truth, it did a little to you. But it didn’t make it any easier the way you thought it did, and that almost made the statement feel worse. “I just-“

Any words that you were going to say halted at the sound of an alarm horn being signaled.

“Oh no.” The words came from you with a hitch to your breath. You had seen enough to know that taking them all on would be the job for an army, not for the two of you. The horn meant they were going to throw their whole force at you, and there was only one way that they would go – towards the only exit to the place.

Curse the Vanir for their sloppy construction! There was no where else for you to run, and you needed to be far enough away for Heimdall to risk bringing you back at all.

“That does not sound good,” Thor said under his breath.

“We need to go, now,” you ordered, your voice more stern than maybe it needed to be.

He stilled you again, though, with his hand. “Promise we will discuss this later?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you moving, sure.” You thought to yourself, though, that maybe it was time to seek reassignment. You didn’t want to have this conversation at any point.

The two of you took off, but it didn’t take long before you heard the tell-tale sign of footsteps behind you. They were gaining on you quickly, and from the thundering sound of it, there were way more than it would be advisable to take on.

“There’s too many of them,” you vocalized your concern to him as you continued forward.

“We will make it. We just need to reach the end of this bend, and then one more before it is a straight-away to the exit.”

The decision came out of your mouth before you really had time to think about it. “You should go on ahead. I can hold them off long enough for you to make it back.”

“Not a chance.”

“Would you listen for once! We are never going to be able to outrun them. It’s my job to protect you, and if I can keep them from you for-“

Thor skidded to a halt so quickly that you collided with his back. He whirled around on his heel and looked to you with a fury in his eyes. “I will not leave you here.”

“We don’t have time to argue!”

“I will argue as long as it takes for you to understand that you are not staying here. This is not how it can end!”

“And that will kill us both by you eating up our precious time!” You took one step closer, making your voice softer. Begging him to see that this was, in fact, how it had to end. “Thor, there’s no way we can outrun them, and you know it. Only one of us is making it out of here.” And you would be damned if you let it be him. You let out a long sigh. If you were bring honest with yourself, you had resigned yourself to your fate in this the moment that Odin ordered you to go with Thor.

“You have Jane,” you continued, “and you are the crowned prince. You are important, alright? If either of us is walking out of here, it has to be you. And besides,” you squared your shoulders. “I swore an oath to the king, and to you, to protect you. This is my responsibility.”

“Y/N, you are important. You mist know that much.” You didn’t miss how he skipped over the last part of your statement. His face had gotten softer. He listed his hand, as though he was going to caress your cheek the way he used to. But he thought better of it, lowering his hand again. “We will find a way out of this together. Alright?”

You would never win the argument with him this way, and the increasing pace to the echoing footfalls told you that you didn’t have the time to try. You didn’t understand his reaction now. He didn’t love you any more – he had made that apparent enough when he left you – so why couldn’t he just accept this situation for how it was? His adamant refusal to leave you was sending your mind in all directions. He was a truly maddening creature.

But you nodded, letting him think you were going along with his choice. “Alright.”

“There. That’s better. Now let’s move.”

When you rounded the next corner together, there were already Marauders waiting there. You helped him fight them, falling into that familiar rhythm one more time. There were not as many as there were before. You were thankful that their backup was still behind you in the maze of corridors. It seemed that they knew you were still inside, which meant they would concentrate their efforts on making sure you couldn’t escape.

Good. you thought to yourself. Your plan solidified in your mind as you continued your run. You could make sure it stayed that way.

“There! The exit,” his deep voice bounced off the walls of the exit tunnel as you rounded the last corner.

Another blessing. He was too distracted by the possibility of escaping. You kept pace just behind him, only stopping as he crossed the threshold.

“I told you we would both-“

His words were swallowed by the sound of the two-way forcefield that you enabled at the exit. You watched it glow as it shot up in the archway, and imagined in your mind how it looked surrounding the structure, otherwise innocuous inside the mountainside.

He hadn’t finished his sentence anyway, though. He had heard it and abruptly turned. His mouth was agape, mid-word, his eyes wide and swimming with shock and betrayal.

“Sorry. I have to do this.” You tried to plaster on a smile, but you knew that it fell flat.

“No!” The cry was loud enough that you could hear the confusing amount of agony in it, even muffled by the forcefield as it was. His fists pounded on the barrier a few times. It didn’t so much as flicker for all his effort. He was never getting through that, and he knew it.

He put his hand flat against it, bringing his eyes up to search yours. You could see in them the fear swirling with the anger and hurt. It pained you to see it there, to know that you put it there, as much as you knew it had to be done.

Even with all that emotion in his eyes, there was only one word he spoke. “Why?”

“Because I-“ You cut off, suddenly overcome with all the things that you had been trying not to feel since this mission began. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and tried again. “Because I can’t let you die.”

“Just turn this infernal thing off-“ he slapped his hand against it again, emphasizing the word- “and we can both make it out of here.” He blinked a few times. Was he crying? “Please?” It sounded like more of a question than an order.

You shook your head. “I cannot, my prince.” You took one step back. “We have been over this. They are too close. Heimdall would never open the bridge if they caught up with you.” And another. “Now go home to Jane, alright? Take care of yourself.”

You took one more step, taking in one last look of Thor there, crying over you, and it was all you could take. You turned on your heel and ran for it back the way that you had come. The walls echoed with the booming sound of Thor bashing the forcefield with Mjolnir, attempting to break through. But you had seen these barriers before, and knew he would fail. As you rounded the corner, though, you heard another sound. One that was so familiar it was unmistakable – Mjolnir whirring in a circle, readying for flight.

Finally, he understood.

You knew it wouldn’t take long for the Marauders to get past you with their numbers, and even less for them to deactivate the forcefield on their own so they could go out and search for Thor. But by then, he would be long gone. But for now, they would be bottle-necked right where you stood.

And you’d for sure be going down with a fight.

You didn’t go very far past that corner before you slowed to a stop. In that moment, you thought of Thor. You hoped he was already far enough away by now that the bridge would be an option for him.

One warm tear trickled from the corner of your eye, trailing down your cheek. It was the only one that you allowed as the heavy boots on stone became unbearably loud in your ears. It held all of your grief, your mourning for what you had lost with Thor all that time ago, with the things that you would never see again back home, and even your grief for yourself,

You hadn’t let yourself cry in a long time, but this wasn’t really the place for more than that.

As it dropped from your jaw, you set your chin up, squaring your shoulders again. You pushed it all aside as you watched the first of the many Marauders barrel around the corner at the other end of the hall. You needed all your focus for this final part of your plan.

You tightened the grip on your sword handle as you brought it about. “For Asgard,” you whispered under your breath. But you knew that, despite your oath, that wasn’t the main reason that you were doing this in the first place.

***

Thor had learned a lot from his time on Midgard. He watched his friends experience loss, and had experienced it himself, of course. But this felt different.

Though you had been Asgardian, your body was never recovered for new stars to be made of it. Not for a lack of trying on his end. They’d held a ceremony to commemorate you, and instead erected a memorial monument to you. Thor himself had seen that it was inlaid with gold and jewels, and bigger than all the rest that had been made over time. It reminded him of the memorials that were made on Midgard, just to a much grander scale. He couldn’t help but wonder what you would have thought about it.

It felt fitting, he thought, to mourn in their way when the circumstances of your burial were so similar.

He clutched the bouquet of your favorite flowers close to his chest as he took the last few steps through the clearing. This had been your favorite place on this realm – a place away from the palace and the other Asgardians where you could think and just be with nature. It had been another thing that he insisted on, that the monument to you be here and not with any of the others of its kind. It felt right, but he couldn’t help the slice of pain through his chest that he felt being here again in this way.

He laid the flowers down at the foot of the monument, the way he had seen from his friends. He hoped that it actually meant something, that they would reach you in your place in Valhalla. He did one other thing, then, that he had seen his comrades do.

He spoke to you.

The words clogged in his throat on his first attempt, choking him. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and gave it a moment before he trusted his voice to try again.

“Y/N,” he spoke softly, hoping his voice would still carry far away. “I’m so very sorry that I could not bring you home. I wish you could have given me the chance to try.” He paused again, recollecting. “But I also thank you. You have gifted me my life with Hane, and for that, I do not know how to properly thank you.” He looked up to the sky, wishing that he could see more than the clouds that floated through the air. “I hope one day that I am worthy enough to see you again so I can try.”

He took one last look around at the clearing – filling his mind with the images of the monument, the wildflowers you loved, the gentle stream that meandered through it. He let himself enjoy the feel of the wind blow through his golden hair. A moment passed before he returned to his horse and made his slow retreat down the mountainside.

#the cards have spoken #writing #mcu #thor #sorry for the maybe typos and such but I absolutely cannot look at this any more tonight #please dont hate me

0 notes

blackasteriia · 4 years ago

Text

“Go on, you just keep running, but I’ll always be there to bring you back!” Is a threat, not a promise.

#✰*✦ this is the idiot speaking ⎧ooc⎫#axel is threatening to do harm to xion #he is going to attack her #knock her unconscious #return her to xemnas #who will then take her #torture her #and send her to roxas to die #maybe axel meant well #but all he said in thar scene was #‘no matter how many times you run away i will always find you and kindap you and return you to your abusers #’regardless of your wishes.’#just out here on a friday morning sick of the fandom #romantizing and dismissing abuse #nbd

3 notes · View notes

luvfae · 3 years ago

Text

LITTLE STAR

PART FOURTEEN

[final chapter]

summary: elliot's been watching you for a while, but he never dared to approach you. you were a good girl at heart and he didn’t think you'd want anything to do with him. all of that changes one friday night at a party, when both of your worlds collide.

fandom: euphoria

parings: elliot x f reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of addiction, mentions of drugs

little star masterlist

note: first things first, i’m sorry in advance for this chapter, but this was always my plan for this series. i can’t believe we’re at the end. my 200 followers gift is over & now i’m 50 followers away from 1000. this is insane. i love you all & i hope you enjoyed this series as much as i did writing it 💗

Late in the night when you were fast asleep Elliot received a call from Rue, which he answered in the bathroom. He didn't want to wake you.

Rue's phone call was somewhat of a wake up call, the push he really needed to understand the damage he had seriously done to you. He didn't mean to corrupt you, turn you into someone you weren't, but alas, it had happened.

The next morning he set up a plan, he knew if you were addicted to oxycodone that eventually you'd take one without his knowledge. So he counted the exact amount of pills he had.

Low and behold when you left for home, two pills had gone missing. Elliot rang you straight away, throwing around accusations, that you denied, but you knew they were true and so did Elliot.

You hadn't seen Elliot for 24 hours, not only because you had both came to blows over the phone, but also because your parents had been complaining about never seeing you anymore.

This 24 hours left Elliot to do some thinking. He spent hours staring at his ceiling, wondering what he was going to do to help you. He had thought of various plans, calling Rue to get her input, but she turned down every one. Rue told Elliot exactly what he needed to do to get you back to your old self.

By the time 30 hours had passed, you and Elliot made up. You apologised for stealing the pills and he accepted your apology. You facetimed for a few hours until you went to bed.

You woke up early on Sunday and walked over to Elliot's house, feeling a little shaky due to the lack of pills. You needed one badly, but you didn't want to come to blows again for stealing another. So you'd just have to convinced him to give one to you.

He was in his bedroom when you arrived. You dumped your purse on his bed, kissing him with a smile on your face.

"Hi," you said. He smiled in return, his guitar in his arms. "Got any weed?" You asked, slowly trying to ease your way into getting an oxy.

Elliot grabbed your hand, rubbing circles into your palm. "I wrote a song for you," Elliot said, clearing his throat. You grinned at his words. "Can I play it for you?" He asked.

"Of course, Elli," you said and he dropped your hand, beginning to strum on his guitar. His eyes darting from his fingers to you as he began to sing.

"Little star, feels like you feel right on my head."

At first the song made you feel warm, happy.

"Us against the world, just a couple sinners making fun of hell," He sang, looking into your eyes. "If I keep you here, i'll only be doing it for myself."

You furrowed your eyebrows, smile slowly dropping as he continued to sing and the lyrics started piecing themselves together. You just hoped you had the wrong idea of what this song truly was.

"I know this thing is broken, so i'll leave my door wide open."

You started to feel sick, the small hope you had of this not being a break up song disintegrating and you felt your entire heart shatter when he sang, "one day we'll meet again."

"I gave it all to see you shine again, I hope it was worth it in the end," by now you had tears pooling in your eyes. Your felt deflated and horrible, hoping this was just a dream. Hoping that you were painting it out to be more than it was.

His strumming stopped and you gulped, looking down at your feet. "That was beautiful, but um... It wasn't what I was expecting," you sniffled, fidgeting with your fingers.

"Y/N, I care about you, so much," Elliot began. "But what i've done to you isn't what I wanted, this isn't what I, or anyone else, wants for you."

"You've been talking to Rue, haven't you?" You asked, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes snapped up to him. "This is our life, not hers, Elliot. I'm happy, you're happy, why ruin this?"

"But i’m not happy, Y/N… You're the best thing that ever happened to me and the fact that I did this to you hurts me more than you can imagine," Elliot said. "Which is why I have to let you go."

Your bottom lip quivered at his words, wiping your cheeks. "I ruined myself for you, Elliot," you whispered. "Changed everything about myself so that you'd stay interested in me... I'm a fool, huh?"

Elliot sighed. "I liked you how you were, Y/N," he said. "I was interested in you months before we talked at that party."

"I love you, please don't do this to me," you begged, walking closer to him, grabbing his hands.

"I love you too..." He replied, your eyes lightning up at his words. "Which is why I have to let you go," he said, slipping his hands out of your grip. You sobbed, hands covering your eyes. "It's for the best, please understand," Elliot sighed, standing up to hug you.

"It's not!" You cried. "This is not for the best!"

"Y/N... please," Elliot said, tears in his eyes, trying his hardest to hold them back.

"Why can't we just be together?" You asked, desperation clear in your voice. The thought of not having him anymore was unbearable. Your heart was beating way to fast, losing your breath.

"This is for the best, I promise," Elliot said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Sit down, let me calm you down and then i'll take you home," he said, sitting you down on his bed, an arm wrapped around you as the both of cried.

You stayed like that for an hour, just holding each other while Elliot tried to convince you that this truly was for the best. But you didn't believe him, if it was for the best why did it hurt so much?

Eventually you stood up, looking at his bedroom for the last time. Letting him drive you home for the last time.

You didn't want to get out of his car, looking over at him with a frown.

"I'm sorry baby," he whispered. You nodded. "You'll see soon enough that this really is for the best, I promise... I love you."

"I love you too," you said, giving him a sad smile. You wished you had said it sooner so you could of heard him say it more.

Elliot reached over, cupping your cheeks, pressing one final kiss against your lips. "I'll see you around," he said, watching you get out of his car. "I'll always be here for you."

"Me too," you said, wiping your tears before you closed the door. Walking towards your front porch, turning around, giving him a small wave as he drove off and you burst into tears again. Immediately calling Lexi.

Your heartache got easier with the changing seasons, and slowly you went back to your normal self. The first few days without the oxycodone were hard, somehow you fought through it. But once the pain of that went away all you could focus on was Elliot and the aching you felt, the constant longing. Even though he was the one who hurt you he was also the only person you wanted to comfort you.

But it got easier, Lexi and Rue were by your side. You spent hours crying with them, letting them hug you and help you heal. It took you a few weeks to realise that it truly was for the best. That you and Elliot were the definition of right person, wrong time. You didn't regret a single thing about the relationship.

You blended in once again, hiding yourself behind over sized sweat shirts, a book in your hand. You focused on your grades again, picking them up, pouring your heart and soul into your schoolwork, trying to reclaim everything you had lost a few months ago.

Seeing him around school was the hardest. Running to the bathroom on the verge of tears at the mere sight of him, longing looks across the hall being shared, small smiles when you walked past each other and by the time the new school year started, you were strangers again. Two strangers with a whole lot of history.

It wasn't any easier for Elliot, his drug use only increasing without you by his side. He didn't have a reason to even attempt to get sober, so why bother? He felt at ease when you went back to your old self, the girl he gawked over for months finally returning. Once he saw you back into your old routine, smiling with Lexi, pen on paper scribbling away, was when he started to heal.

But he didn't know if he would ever fully heal and neither did you, he meant what he said in that song. One day, we'll meet again. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even in five years time, but eventually he would weasel his way into your life again. But for now, he was quite content with watching you flourish from the sidelines and he did just that, every single day until graduation.

Elliot watched you walk on stage to graduate, you received various amounts of awards, you were even given a scholarship to your dream collage. Seeing you so happy made him happy, in this moment he knew that he really had done the right thing by ending things with you a year ago.

You were moving out of state soon to start college and although you hadn't spoken in a year, he had to say his last goodbye.

"Y/N," he said, grabbing your wrist. You looked over you shoulder, eyes softening at the sight of him. "Congratulations, you deserve this," he smiled.

You grinned up at him, turning around to face him. "Thank you," you nodded. "And thank you for breaking up with me, I don't think I would of received a single award if we had stayed together... not that I don't miss you or anything," you said.

Elliot nodded at your words, dropping your wrist. "I told you it was for the best... Good luck out there," he said.

"You too," you replied, turning away, ready to walk away, but you froze. Pursing your lips, you turned back around to face him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly for possibly the last time. Elliot hugged you back and your eyes fluttered shut, cheek pressed against his chest. "I just want you to know that no matter where life takes us i'll never forget you," you said.

Elliot smiled at your words. "I'll never forget you either... how could I? You're the first person I ever loved," Elliot said.

You pulled away from him, your eyes becoming glossy with tears. "You're the first person I ever loved too," you said, reaching up on your tip toes to kiss his cheek.

Elliot cupped your cheeks, smashing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened before fluttering shut, hands snaking around his neck. You had missed the familiar feeling of his lips on yours. You pulled away, staring up at him with a smile

"Maybe we should have sex," Elliot suggested, taking you by surprise.

"Just one last time won't hurt, right?" You laughed.

"My car?" He asked, as the two of you began walking.

"I have a car now, tinted windows and all," you said.

"Your car it is," Elliot smirked.

Rue and Lexi stood side by side, watching the two of you walk away together. Lexi's arms folded across her chest. Rue's eyes squinted, a hand over her forehead to stop the sun from getting in her eyes.

"This can't be good," Rue said.

"Honestly Rue, I think their soulmates," Lexi said, watching as you and Elliot disappeared into the back seat of your car. "No matter how much you try and keep them apart, they'll always make their way back to each other."

Rue hummed, looking over at the brunette girl. "Ice cream?" She asked. Lexi smiled, intertwining her arm with Rue's and walking off.

THE END

#little star #little star masterlist #euphoria #euphoria imagine #hbo euphoria #euphoria smut #dominic fike #elliot euphoria #elliot x reader #elliot x y/n #elliot x you #rue bennett #lexi howard #elliot smut #elliot fanfic #elliot angst #elliot fluff #elliot imagine

409 notes · View notes

lemonlillybee · 2 years ago

Text

With Lemon and Honey

Title: With Lemon and Honey

Fandom: Irondad

Word Count: 1200

Prompt

It’s been a long week.

May is away for a work conference, which means Peter is staying at the Tower until Sunday. It’s finals week, and his nights are filled with reviewing and finishing essays while his days are filled with tests and last-minute study sessions. By the time Thursday rolls around, Peter’s so tired he falls asleep on the car ride to the Tower, and when he wakes up Happy is looking at him in the rearview mirror with an odd expression.

“We’re here,” Happy tells him, then turns around in his seat to watch Peter rub his eyes and gather up his stuff. “Try to get some sleep tonight, yeah?”

Peter swallows thickly before he responds, his throat dry and scratchy from his unplanned nap. “I can sleep after finals.” He means for it to come out jokingly, but instead it just sounds kind of pathetic. Happy frowns, but then the garage elevator is opening up and Tony appears, and Peter slides out of the car without another word.

He doesn’t even realize he’s getting sick until he wakes up on Friday morning with a stuffy nose. It’s accompanied by a headache and a sore throat. If he’s being honest, his throat had actually been pretty irritated yesterday, too, though he’d put it down to the stress of finals and his forgetfulness when it came to drinking water. Ned usually reminded him to drink water, but Ned had been out sick since Wednesday with a cold.

This morning, the sore throat definitely goes beyond being thirsty, and the pain when he swallows is even worse than the throbbing ache in his temples. When he sits up, his body feels too heavy, fatigue making him sluggish. He has one more day of school to get through, though, and it’s just a cold, so he takes a handful of painkillers and chases them with three full glasses of water, then splashes cold water on his face in an attempt to wake himself up a little. He’s so slow getting up that he doesn’t have time for a shower, so he does his best with his hair, quickly brushes his teeth, and gets dressed before he heads out to the kitchen to force down the smallest amount of food he can get away with without making Tony suspicious.

The last day of finals pass by in a blur. Peter falls asleep on the car ride back again, and when he wakes up he’s somehow even more exhausted. Tony suggests a movie night, with pizza and ice cream, to celebrate finals being done, and Peter is grateful not to have to pretend to concentrate in the lab.

That night, he heads to bed early with the excuse that he’s tired from finals, which is still technically the truth. It takes him a long time to get even the slightest bit comfortable. Every time he swallows his throat hurts, he can’t breathe through his nose, and between the sudden chills and the way his head feels too hot, he can’t get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

He tosses and turns for two full hours before he can’t take it anymore. All he wants is to be home with May. He wants his own bed, with his own pillow, and he wants May to smooth her hand over his sweaty bangs and tuck him in with too many blankets and make him soup and tea with lemon and honey. He wants May to take care of him, but May’s gone, and he’s miserably sick, and he can’t even fall asleep.

Peter is too frustrated to stay in bed. He stands up and almost has to sit back down again with the way his legs shake. He pulls the comforter around his shoulders with the intention of going out to the living room, maybe to lie on the couch, but it suddenly seems like too far of a walk and he’s overwhelmed by exhaustion and emotions. Instead, he sinks to the floor, landing in a clumsy heap of blankets. He draws his knees up to his chest, presses his forehead against his knees, and starts to cry, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto his pajama pants.

That’s where Tony finds him fifteen minutes later.

“Pete?”

The light from the hallway is too bright, and Peter breaks off halfway through a sob to pull the blanket up over his face, shielding his eyes. Tony asks F.R.I.D.A.Y to dim the lights, and Peter sniffles wetly, trying to reel in the tears. His face feels puffy and swollen from all of the crying and he’s sure he looks like a mess. He tries to dry his eyes and nose as best as he can with the blanket before lowering it, but he can’t bring himself to meet Tony’s eyes.

Tony crouches down next to him. After a minute, Peter feels his hand on his shoulder, and Tony makes a weird sound in the back of his throat before moving his hand up a little to the side of Peter’s neck, and then to his forehead.

“You’re running a fever,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me, bud?” Tony asks, and the softness in his tone is what Peter blames for the fresh wave of tears that spring to his eyes. “Oh, Pete.”

“Sorry,” Peter says, or at least he tries to, but the word scrapes roughly at his throat on the way out and makes him cough sharply.

“Shh, none of that. Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

Peter lets Tony lift him off the floor. He crawls back into his bed and Tony settles the comforter over him.

“What can I get for you? Do you want some medicine? Water?”

Peter thinks for a bit. What he really wants is his aunt, but he knows that’s not possible. Finally, he clears his throat and mumbles, “Tea? With lemon and honey?”

Tony glances at the clock, and Peter follows his gaze. It’s just about midnight.

“Of course, bud.” Tony stands. “Anything else?”

Peter shakes his head, and when Tony leaves the room, he curls up on his side and closes his eyes. He’s almost asleep when Tony comes back. He can’t open his eyes, but he can hear Tony walk over to his nightstand and set something down on it. Then, the mattress dips as Tony sits on the edge of his bed. He feels Tony pull the blankets up over his shoulders and tuck him in, and then there’s a hand on his forehead, resting there for a moment before gently pushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead, and Peter sighs at the comforting touch.

He wants to sit up and drink the tea, but Tony’s fingers running through his hair feel a lot like the way May runs her fingers through his hair, and he finds himself drifting off to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, he can hear a familiar voice coming from down the hall, and a few minutes later Tony pushes his bedroom door open. He’s followed by May, who's carrying a fresh mug of steaming hot tea with lemon and honey.

#tumblr prompt #prompt fill #sickfic #sick peter parker #irondad #spiderson #tony stark #peter parker #may parker

60 notes · View notes

adri-2022 · 2 years ago

Text

Two Brids

Fandom: Chicago PD

Characters: Jay Halstead x OC Malia Halstead / Stella Kidd/ Gabriela Dawson/ Adam Rusek/ Kevin Atwater

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy drinking/ little bit of sadness

Word count: 1048

Jay Halstead Materlist

A/N: Hello my beautiful people. Here is a little request from the beautiful @allisonargent144

[Very important this song “Two Birds” by Regina Spektor does NOT belong to me I just using it for this imagine.]

Don't be afraid to leave your comment!

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

Malia Halstead was the definition of a ray of sunshine. She was the most optimistic person you could ever meet and the happiest at that. Some of it came with her background and childhood, some was just how her current life made her feel. She was married and currently 3 months pregnant. She met her husband in a bar called Molly’s 5 years ago, while she and her band got hired to sing on Friday nights. After that Jay went to Molly’s every Friday just to listen to Malia sing, until he finally made a move. They hit it off dating for a year before marrying and now expecting their first born.

Today was Friday again which meant they had to play for Molly’s. So, she dressed in a comfortable yet cute outfit. She wore a beautiful white sundress that hugged her body giving a full view of her growing belly, topping it with a nude cardigan and white strappy sandals. She wanted to look professional yet respectful, because today she would sing a very emotional song written by her for a dear friend who had passed away 2 months ago. Leslie Shay was her best friend, they met in the same bar, where they got to share memories and moments. She had called that Malia would end up marrying Jay and it was sad that she wouldn’t get to see baby Halstead.

Arriving at Molly’s she was met with the faces of friends and happiness filling every corner of the bar. She looked around trying to spot a familiar face. At the other side of the bar there was Intelligence table, they were pretty much having a breath after a though case not realizing she had arrived. The team loved Malia to death, treating her with kindness that would overwhelm anyone, but not Malia, she loved love it was her favorite emotion.

“Hey man. You Mrs is here” Kevin was the first to notice Malia, nudging Jay to gain his attention, the latter turning in his seat to look at his wife. She looked absolutely breath taking, Jay as always wore a proud and playful look. The married couple made eye contact sharing a sweet smile,

“I love you” Malia mouthed to her husband, just as Jay was about to answer he was interrupted by Gabby voice,

“There is the sexy pregnant girl” gaining the attention of the mom to be. Malia made a detour to the bar where Gabby and Stella were attending costumers.

“Hey Gabs. Stella” Malia greeted both woman. Stella smiled kindly her way before finishing pouring drinks.

“Hey sexy momma. How are you feeling?” Stella asked

“Good, good. Starting to show. No more morning sickness so that’s exiting” Malia said listing everything. Both woman chuckling.

“What can I get you love?” Gabby asked. Malia thought for a second before answering.

“I’ll have a lemonade, but can you pour it in a martini glass” she answered smirking slightly making Gabby shake her head with a small smile.

“He’s gonna freak out you know that right?” Gabby said one eyebrow raised and a teasing smile.

“Yep” “You’re trouble woman” Stella commented between Malia and Gabby’s banter reaching for a martini glass.

Everything was going smoothly; Malia was waiting on her drink and Jay was keeping an eye on her from where he sat. He had to admit she was absolutely glowing, and it looked extremely good on her. Furrowing his eyebrows when he noticed the martini glass being handed to her,

“What the hell are doing” he muttered to himself before rushing to Malia. He knew she wasn’t that crazy as to put their kid in danger, but you never know. When she was about to take her first sip a hand popped out of nowhere taking her glass from her hands.

“Hey that’s mine” she said looking at the thief just to be met with her husband’s ‘are you serious’ look. This made made her go in a fit of giggles, putting her hands on her mouth trying to stop it. Jay looked at her squinting his eyes, before leaning slightly and smelling the drink.

“Seriously” he said trying his best to be serious, but a smile was waiting to fight its way to his lips.

“Can I have my martini back sir” she asked innocently, while Stella and Gabby chuckled.

“You’re going to be the death of me woman” he said putting the drink on the bar and leaning down to peck her lips sweetly, while also trying to ignore the whistling and cheers of their friends. When they pulled away, he smirked and winked at her making her chuckle before walking back to his friends table.

“Yo! Malia you ready?” asked Kelly Severide a friend she met through Leslie called for her.

“Ready!” she called back to him before standing up and making her way towards the stage. Jay noticing her movement looked at her before making his way towards the bar stool closest to the stage.

“She ain’t going anywhere man!” Adam called from the table making everyone around laugh. It wasn’t a secret how protective Jay was of Malia, more now with a baby on the way. When hearing this Jay turned around to flip him off, earning more laughs.

“Hi everyone. How are you all doing tonight?” Malia started greeting everyone, being met with cheers.

“So, tonight is a special night for me. I’m sure it is for a lot of us here. Two months ago, we lost a very dear and special friend. So as her best girl-friend. Yes, Kelly, I know you were her best friend also, no need to get jealous…” she stopped to chuckle with the rest of the bar, Kelly shaking his head with a big smile on his face. So, she continued,

“…I took matters in hand and thought that she would’ve loved for us to live and love in her name. So, I wrote this next song called ‘Two Birds’. I hope everyone likes it. This one’s for you troublemaker” Malia finished, looking at Jay who smiled at her giving her an encouraging smile, before the music started. Safe to say there wasn’t a dry eye in the bar that night, but also love could be felt from every direction, truly beautiful.

#jay halstead one shot #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead fluff #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x you #fan fiction #one chicago fic #jay halstead angst

94 notes · View notes

englishstrawbie · 3 years ago

Text

Serendipity (23/?)

Fandom: Station 19, Grey’s Anatomy

Characters: Maya Bishop & Carina DeLuca

Summary: A chance meeting at a bar leads to these two idiots falling in love. Follows canon and fills in the gaps of their relationship that we didn’t get to see on screen.

Also @ AO3.

* * * * * * * * * *

Worth Fighting For

You don't have to have it all figured out to move forward. Just take the next step. - Unknown

Maya arrives at Carina’s home just after one o’clock. She pulls up on the road outside and looks up at the townhouse, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Her body is tense with a nervous anticipation at seeing Carina again. They would usually exchange a few texts during Maya’s twenty-four hour shifts, but there has been nothing since their Friday night dinner except for a brief message from Carina this morning to say that she hoped Maya’s shift had been safe and calm, and she was looking forward to seeing her for lunch.

It feels too familiar, too normal to engage in flirty text messages, and okay they both want to get their relationship back on track and Maya feels optimistic that they can and will – but these early days of trying to move past her indiscretion feel hard and doubt keeps creeping in. She tries to push it away, but as she stares up at the brick building in front of her, it ties her stomach into knots.

Yet she is as determined as she was when she turned up at the hospital to beg for forgiveness that she will prove to Carina that she is sorry and will do whatever it takes to convince her that their relationship is worth saving.

Maya steps out of the car and crosses the sidewalk, walking up the steps to the front door. She rings the bell and waits, her left knee jiggling impatiently. There is no answer and Maya frowns. She checks her phone in case Carina sent her another message to cancel their plans, but her inbox is empty. She bites her bottom lip, unsure what to do. Maybe Carina is in the bathroom and didn’t hear the doorbell? The knots in her stomach twist a little tighter as she tries again. After just a few seconds this time, she hears the lock click and the door drifts open. Maya pushes it slowly, poking her head inside.

She hears Carina before she sees her, speaking rapidly into her cellphone. She must be talking to family, Maya guesses, because she speaks in Italian and Maya has no chance of deciphering what she is saying. She takes a tentative step inside. Carina turns slightly and beckons her in, but doesn’t hang up. Maya can tell from the way she holds her body, her shoulders hunched and a concerned frown on her face, that something is wrong. She wonders if it is something to do with Andrew. He has been doing so well at his residential facility and is supposed to be coming home next week, and Maya feels her heart sink at the thought that maybe he has taken a step backwards.

“Si. Si, lo farò,” she hears Carina say as she ends the call.

She turns to Maya. “I’m sorry.”

Maya shakes her head, dismissing her apology. “What’s going on?”

Carina’s face crumples in response to her question and Maya immediately steps forwards, her hands taking Carina’s hips and twisting them gently until Carina is facing her.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Tell me what happened.”

“My Zio… my uncle, Eduardo. He’s sick. He, uh, he got admitted to the hospital last night.” She gulps. “It’s bad. The doctors want to put him on a ventilator.” Her chest shudders as she inhales. “And now my aunt and uncle both have a cough, and they’ve been taking groceries to my Nonna because she won’t leave the house.”

“Oh, Carina, I’m sorry,” Maya says. “Come here.”

She pulls Carina in to in a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around her body and holding her close. “The hospital will take care of him. The doctors will know what to do,” Maya tries to reassure, except Carina is a doctor and she knows the reality better than Maya does. Still, she feels Carina nod, her hands gripping her jacket tightly.

Maya holds her until Carina pulls away, smiling weakly as she tries to brush off her vulnerability.

“Mi dispiace… I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t invite you to lunch just to cry on your shoulder.”

Maya shoots her an admonishing glance. “Don’t be sorry. This virus, it’s scary for everyone.” She looks up at Carina with wide eyes. “It’s coming, isn’t it? The lockdowns, the overcrowded hospitals.”

‘The deaths,’ she thinks, but can’t bring herself to say. She doesn’t need to, she knows it is on Carina’s mind too.

Carina nods. “Soon.”

Maya doesn’t know what prompts it – maybe Carina wants to distract herself from worrying about her family or the threatening pandemic – but before she knows it, Carina dips her head and draws her into a kiss, hard and messy. It catches Maya off-guard but quickly her hands are raking through Carina’s hair. They stumble together until Maya’s back hits the doorframe and she feels Carina’s body press up against hers. A whimper escapes from her mouth as Carina’s lips start their assault on her neck.

Her face buried into Maya’s neck, Carina suddenly becomes still, her body slumping into Maya’s. Recognising the grief that ripples through her, Maya pulls Carina into another tight hug as she quivers in Maya’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Maya murmurs. “You’re okay. I’m here.” She runs her hand over Carina’s hair. “I love you.”

The words that once felt impossible to say now fall from her mouth easily. She feels Carina squeeze her tightly in return and Maya feels guilty about how good it feels to have Carina in her arms and to be able to comfort her when she needs her the most.

Rubbing her back, Maya pulls out of their embrace and looks up at Carina questioningly. Carina nods, silently telling her she is okay.

“What do you need?” Maya asks, resolving to do whatever she asks for.

“Just you, here, is good,” Carina says with a small smile. “Come, let’s go have lunch.”

She takes Maya’s hand, guiding her into the open plan living area. The table is already set for two, a candle burning in the centre. It feels romantic and it surprises Maya, but she is touched by the gesture and feels the knots inside of her unravelling.

“Oh, I stopped by Little Roma on the way and picked up some cannoli,” Maya says, reaching into her bag and retrieving a small box.

It is a nod to the first night they met and it brings out a smile on Carina’s face. “Grazie,” she says, taking the box from Maya’s hand. She nods at one of the chairs. “Sit.”

Carina busies herself in the kitchen. The smell of lemon and garlic wafts through the air towards Maya, who feels her stomach rumble in excitement of being fed. There is a bottle of white wine chilling on the table and Maya pours two glasses as she waits. Within minutes, Carina places a seafood salad on the table between them, a colourful mix of green salad leaves, red and yellow tomatoes and sweet peppers, and topped with shrimp and calamari.

“This looks amazing,” Maya says.

Carina seasons it with salt and pepper, before dishing it out on to their plates.

“Better than tacos, no?” Carina teases.

Maya rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue playfully, before tucking in. She can’t help but let out a small moan of delight at the flavours that fill her mouth, causing Carina to smile smugly.

“Have you heard from Andrew lately?” Maya asks, hoping to hear some good news that will distract Carina from worrying about her family in Italy.

“Si, I spoke to him yesterday,” Carina answers, her face lighting up. “He’s doing good. The doctors are happy that he can still come home next week.”

“That’s great,” Maya says. “I’m really pleased. You must be happy?”

Carina nods. “But I still have to convince him to come and stay with me, instead of going home to his apartment.”

Maya remembers that the last time Andrew stayed with Carina had only lasted a few days before he had become too irritated by what he called his sister’s “meddling” and had moved home. Perhaps now that he was getting treatment and taking medication, he would be more receptive to it – although Carina does not look so convinced.

“Well, if anyone can persuade him, you can,” Maya says encouragingly.

Carina smiles. “Thank you, bella.”

They keep the conversation light over lunch and it starts to feel like it used to, fun and easy. Maya regales Carina with the story of their recent rescue of a twelve-year-old girl who had tried to climb out onto the tree that stands outside of her bedroom window, only to get stuck between the glass and the guard rails.

“She was running away from home?” Carina questions.

Maya shakes her head. “She was trying to steal her neighbours’ WiFi. Theirs was broken.”

Carina laughs and the sound makes Maya’s heart flutter, because she has missed it so much.

“Oh, and then there was Tom.”

“Tom?” Carina asks.

“Tom is a superhero fanatic who dressed up as Spiderman and put superglue onto his costume so that he could climb the walls. It was industrial strength glue, too.”

“Oh no…” Carina says, guessing what was coming next.

Maya laughs and nods. “When we found him, he was upside down, his knees and arms were stuck to the ceiling. The only way we could get him down was to cut him out of his costume – which he wasn’t happy about and he spent at least thirty minutes arguing with us about why we needed to come up with a different idea.”

Carina shakes her head incredulously. “Lo stupido!”

“Very stupid,” Maya agrees. “He kept telling us that the costume cost him half a month’s wage and he was going to sue us for destroying his property, then he wriggled the whole time we were trying to get him down. Travis ended up with a black eye and Jack got a foot in his chest.”

She doesn’t realise what she is saying until it is too late. Carina’s body instinctively turns rigid at the mention of Jack’s name and Maya kicks herself for being so stupid.

“Carina, I’m sorry, I…”

Carina shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says, except her tone tells Maya that it is not fine at all.

“Carina…”

“Maya, don’t,” Carina says, her tone clipped. She starts to clear away their lunch plates, a sign that she doesn’t want this conversation to continue.

Maya watches as she takes the plates into the kitchen, annoyed that the good mood between them has been ruined so easily.

“I told you that I’d transfer to another station if me working with Jack was going to be a problem.”

“It’s not a problem,” Carina says.

“Carina…”

“Maya!”

She drops the plates into the sink and they crash together loudly, causing Maya to jump.

Carina’s shoulders sag. “It’s not a problem,” she says. “I just… I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that you see him every day at work.” She looks across the room to Maya. “That’s not easy for me.”

“I know,” Maya says. “But other than transferring, I don’t know what else I can do to change that. And I don’t know what that means for us.”

The fear in her voice is palpable. Carina pauses, before walking back over to the table and sitting down, reaching out to take Maya’s hands in hers. “It means we’re trying,” she says. “I told you, I need time.”

Maya feels her chest tighten and she drops her gaze, looking down at their hands entwined together. What if they don’t have time? She has been following the news, she knows that a potential lockdown means they might not see each other for weeks, maybe months.

“Okay,” is all she says, willing herself to be patient.

Carina lifts one hand and curls her fingers under Maya’s chin, encouraging her to look up at her. Her newly shortened hair sticks to her cheek and Carina tucks it behind her ear, leaning forwards and capturing her in a kiss. It is needy and intimate, and almost territorial, as if she is reclaiming Maya’s lips for her own after they had strayed. The kiss deepens and Maya’s hands slide up Carina’s thighs, wandering further than Carina wants them to. She doesn’t push her away, but her hands fall on top of Maya’s and she stops them from travelling any further. She doesn’t break the kiss and Maya is left wondering what it all means.

“I love you too,” Carina assures her when they part. She keeps her hands linked with Maya’s. “It’s mild outside, no? Why don’t we walk down to the park and take the cannoli with us?”

There was a time not that long ago that they would have spent the afternoon in bed but the message behind Carina’s actions is clear. Maya knows not to push her too quickly, so she nods her agreement.

The walk to the park is familiar, it is a trip they have done many times on the lazy days they have spent together at Carina’s townhouse. It is a large park, made up of picnic, play and sports areas, a skate park and a spray park for the children. It is Maya’s favourite place to run, she has lost count of the number of hours she has spent following the various paths as her feet hit the gravel. They walk the park trail, hand in hand. There are families scattered about – some with soccer balls, some playing baseball. One father and son duo are flying a kite, the child shrieking with delight every time a gust of wind blows and the kite gets scooped up into the air.

The trail loops the park, weaving in and out of the trees, past an array of flower beds, some trampled by overzealous children who have ignored the signs. Maya’s pace slows down as they come around one bend and reach the bridge where she had last seen Mason. The homeless camp that was once situated there has been moved on, the rubbish disposed of. A row of prickly bushes have been planted along the wall, the kind that don’t need a lot of sunlight, the City Council’s way of preventing the camp from returning.

Her eyes are immediately drawn to the mural that Mason left behind. It is a little faded now, what was once blue now a dusky grey and the reds and oranges dulled into a burnt yellow. Someone has spray-painted graffiti on the wall, the thick black paint catching the edge of the mural.

“Wow, look at that,” Carina observes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is,” Maya says softly.

Carina doesn’t pick up on her tone; instead she pulls out her cell phone and snaps a few photos of the painting. The words are on the tip of Maya’s tongue, but she holds them back. She has never told Carina the story about Mason – not the whole story. It is another thing she has held back from her and she knows that this is a moment when she could put it all out there, but something stops her.

Carina is reeling from her family being sick, Maya reminds herself. And Andrew is still getting better.

Maya tugs at Carina’s hand, guiding her away from the wall, and they walk under the bridge towards the picnic area. They find a free bench and sit side-by-side. Maya opens the box and they both tuck into the cannoli.

“You know, my aunt and uncle make the best cannoli in Catania,” Carina says, licking the ricotta filling from lips.

“The best, huh?” Maya says with a wry smile.

“Award-winning!” Carina insists. “When my Mama and Andrea left, and Papa was working all the time, I used to go to their restaurant after school to do my homework. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, there were always people eating there – locals and tourists. Everyone loves it there. It’s always such a happy place.” Her face falls. “I hate to think of it empty like it is now.”

With Italy under a strict lockdown, her aunt and uncle’s business is in danger of going bust and Carina can’t imagine the city she grew up in without the Rossi family restaurant in it.

“You miss your family a lot,” Maya notes.

Carina shrugs. “They were there for me when Mama and Andrea were gone. My Zia Alice took me shopping for a new dress for the school dance and my Zio Roberto taught me to make his famous grissini. My Zio Eduardo – the one who is in hospital – he taught me how to drive. When this boy in my class was being mean to me about Papa, my cousin, Matteo, punched him – even though he was two years younger than me, he was there to stick up for me.”

She smiles at the memories. “I missed them before Italy went into lockdown but I knew that I could just jump on a plane and visit if I wanted to. And now I can’t and that makes the distance between us seem even bigger.”

Maya reaches out and places her hand on Carina’s arm, squeezing it gently.

“Well maybe when the worst of this coronavirus is over, we can go visit them?” Maya suggests. “After all, you’re the one who finally got me to take a vacation. And I’d love to see where you grew up.”

“Maya, I think it’s going to be a while before the worst of it is over,” Carina says with a sad smile.

“I know.” Maya isn’t naïve, she has been reading the news and talking to Ben, and pouring over the city’s plans for a lockdown.

Her mind goes to Mason again. He is still living on the streets for all she knows and she worries about him all the time, not knowing if he is safe. Now there is the threat of a pandemic and she feels helpless knowing that she cannot protect him from it.

Picking up on her anxiety, Carina turns her hand over and links her fingers through Maya’s.

“Hey. I would love to take you to Italy to meet my family one day.”

Maya brightens. “Really?”

Carina smiles. “Really.”

Their heads move at the same time, leaning in to one another, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. When they part, Carina rests her head on Maya’s shoulder.

“I’m glad we did this today,” she says. “I needed to see you.”

“Me too,” Maya says. She plants a kiss on Carina’s hair, leaning her cheek against the top of her head. They sit in silence, Carina’s thumb caressing her skin, and the moment in Carina’s townhouse is forgotten.

Maya’s phone starts to buzz with an incoming call and she extracts it from her pocket, tipping the screen towards her where Andy’s named flashes at her. She hits the red button and resolves to call her back later.

Except her phone rings again.

“Maybe you should get that,” Carina says, noting Andy’s persistence.

Maya hits decline again. “I’ll call her back later.”

It is on the third call that Maya finally answers. “Andy, I can’t talk right now. Can I call you…”

Andy starts to talk over her and Maya has no choice but to let her speak, listening intently as she talks fast. Maya catches the important part.

“She’s what?”

Carina hears the shock in Maya’s voice and lifts her head from her shoulder, curious about what has caused such a reaction.

“Are you sure?” Maya asks. “Okay, okay. Uh, do you still have a spare key to my place? Okay, I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

She hangs up and shoots Carina an apologetic look. “I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” Carina asks.

“It’s Andy… she says her mom’s alive.”

Carina’s brow furrows and she shakes her head, confused.

“Her mom died when Andy was nine years old,” Maya explains. “At least, that’s what Pruitt told her. He said her mom was sick and she died. It’s why she was practically raised at Station 19. Since Pruitt died, she’s been spiralling. We…” She stops herself from talking about their fight, doesn’t want to bring up that day at the station again. “She’s been convinced that he was keeping something from her. I guess she was right.”

Carina’s eyes widen at the story. “You should go and make sure she’s okay.”

“I know, but I don’t want to leave you alone,” Maya says, feeling torn.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” Carina says. “I think Andy needs you more than I do right now.”

“Can I see you again this week? Dinner. Maybe… maybe you could stay over?”

She notices Carina’s non-committed smile and tries not to get her hopes up.

“Maybe,” Carina says. “Send me your work schedule and we’ll figure it out.”

They make their way back to Carina’s townhouse and say goodbye on the sidewalk with a lingering hug.

“Call me if you need me,” Maya says, glad when she feels Carina nod against her shoulder.

Her mind is on Carina the whole journey home and she licks her lips as she remembers the taste of her kiss and the warmth of her mouth pressed against hers. She holds on to that feeling and pushes away any doubt that she will not be able to do enough to get them back to where they were before she slept with Jack.

Andy is waiting for her when she gets home, two bottles of beer sat on the table where Andy sits quietly.

“Hey,” Maya says as she steps inside, dropping her keys on the table and shrugging off her jacket.

Andy looks up, her face ashen like she hasn’t slept. Maya sits down at the table as Andy slides one of the beer bottles towards her. She doesn’t bother with pleasantries.

“What happened?”

“I went to the motel where my Tia Sandra is staying. I wanted to know the truth about my mom. I thought…” She shakes her head. “I thought the secret that my dad had been keeping from me was that my mom had killed herself. And it turns out she wasn’t dead at all.”

Andy takes a large gulp of beer as Maya tries to process what Andy is saying.

“I… why?” is all Maya can think of to say.

“Because of me,” Andy says. “Because she hated being a mom. Because she resented me for taking her away from the job she loved. Because having me made her angry and depressed.”

“She blamed you?” Maya says incredulously.

“Not exactly,” Andy says. “She says she loves me. But she never said she was sorry. And I don’t think she is, I don’t think she would change what she did if she had the choice. Because I wasn’t enough for her.”

“Andy, this isn’t on you,” Maya says. “Whatever her reasons, you were a child.”

She can see Andy’s mind working overtime as she processes everything that has happened over the last few days.

“Did she say where she’s been or why she stayed away for so long?”

“New York,” Andy answers. “She never planned on coming back, even when my dad got on his knees and begged her. But with him dying and me asking questions, I guess she thought that her secret wouldn’t stay a secret for much longer.”

Maya takes a swig of her beer. “What was it like, seeing her after all this time?”

Andy shrugs. “Am I supposed to be happy to see her? Because I’m not. I’m angry. I’m so angry, Maya. And I have all these questions that I wanna ask my dad, and I can’t, because he’s dead. My dad is dead and my mom’s alive, and those are two things that shouldn’t be true, but they are.”

She necks her beer.

“That is one hell of a mind fuck,” Maya says. “Are you okay?”

Andy lets out a short laugh. “I don’t know. No?” She leans back in her chair and looks at Maya. “Are you?” She gestures at Maya’s hair. “I heard about what happened with your dad.”

The mention of her father makes Maya’s skin prickle and she starts to pick at the label on the beer bottle in her hands as a distraction.

“I don’t think I’ll be invited round for family lunch any time soon,” she says bitterly.

“And your mom?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet,” Maya says guiltily. “I will, I just… I’ve been trying to fix things with Carina.”

“Carina will understand. So you snapped at her, when she knows what you put up with when you were a kid, she’ll get it,” Andy tries to reassure her.

Maya’s eyes drop. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Complicated how?” Andy questions.

“I cheated on her,” Maya admits.

“Cheated as in…?”

“I slept with Jack.” She lifts her eyes to see Andy’s face full of disbelief.

Andy purses her lips and whistles through them. “Damn Maya. When?”

“That day at the station when you and I got into that argument,” Maya says. The story spills out and she tells Andy about her fight with Carina, and how she ended up in bed with Jack and then threw it in Carina’s face, and how she has regretted it ever since.

“…and somehow she’s found it in her heart to forgive me. And still…”

“Still?”

Maya sighs. “We were walking in the park earlier and we passed Mason’s mural. The one under the bridge,” she says. “I didn’t tell her it was his. I’ve never told her what happened.”

“Why not?” Andy asks.

“I can’t,” Maya says. “You know, we talked on Friday, I told her everything about my dad. I was more honest with her than I’ve ever been with anyone. But how can I tell her this? Her brother is sick and she has done everything she can to help him. My brother was sick and I…”

“Maya, what happened to Mason wasn’t your fault,” Andy says. “Talk to her. Knowing what she does about your dad and what it was like growing up in that house, she’s gonna understand.”

“Will she?”

“Maya, she loves you. And you love her. And not being honest with her just ends with things getting messy.”

“I know that now,” Maya says.

“Look, I’ve never seen you as happy as you’ve been these last few months since you met Carina. That’s something worth fighting for, trust me. So you’ve had a hiccup – she’s forgiven you. You need to forgive yourself and focus on what you’ve got, which is an insanely hot woman who is crazy about you. Things might not be perfect now, but hang in there – I think she’s worth it.”

As if she knows she is being talked about, Maya’s phone lights up with a message from Carina. Andy waves her hand at the phone, encouraging her to read it, and stands up to retrieve another beer from the fridge as Maya opens the message.

Thank you for being there today, I’m glad you were. Dinner this week would be great, let me know when you’re free. I hope Andy is ok. I love you. C xx

Maya smiles as she realises that Andy is right.

“I think she’s worth it too.”

#station 19 #grey's anatomy #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #serendipity

37 notes · View notes

firewoodfigs · 2 years ago

Text

some quick life updates before i yeet myself off to bed and trick my body into a regular sleep cycle:

bali was great!!! i miss it terribly already. the people were lovely and the beaches were lovely and it was just nice to finally get away from this claustrophobic island of a country after nearly three!!! miserable!!! years!!! it was low-key exhausting because we fit so much into four days - we literally woke up at six in the morning on the third day to take a ferry to nusa penida (me, plagued by motion sickness: dear Lord take this cup away from me) and then did stuff like hike a ton in the tropical blistering heat and snorkel in ridiculously choppy waters. fun fact: I actually can’t swim so LMAO but well *shrugs* here I am... I say this calmly but in reality I was choking on seawater and yelling at my bf HAHAHAHA

coming back home was super stressful because 4/9 of us who went on the trip got covid lol. I was fretting so hard on the flight home bcs my bf was shivering and breaking out in cold sweat from a fever that just came out of nowhere and the plane did not have BLANKETS because it was a transit flight. what. anyways when we landed and checked our phones one of our friends was like, “fuck, I’m positive”, and we were like, fuuuuuck. I was so sure we got it because all 9 of us shared a burger the night before, so we self-isolated for a few days just to be safe, but it turned out to just be stomach flu on my bf’s end. (I somehow got out miraculously unscathed...)

also because I got bombarded with work the past two weeks bcs it was my beloved coworker’s turn to go on holiday after me... it was rough, man. I think I worked till or past midnight most days (although I generally try to take Wednesday and Friday nights off for Mental HealthTM) but honestly I'm just happy to not be fired because it was just me and my boss holding the fort together and i’m pretty sure I sent him trash at some point but he was genuinely so nice about it. like, he sent me an email with super detailed feedback and was like, don’t worry, it’s not stuff I expected you to know because it’s super technical, but just keep trying and you’ll get better and I was like yo... thanks... /cryingindaclub

I turned 25 recently and it is just. quarter life crisis ahoy. HELP. I need Taylor swift to write a song about being 25 and knowing nothing at all. actually I just need Dr Swift to drop a new album because I've listened to folklore and evermore so many times that it’s starting to feel a little repetitive and. idk. mad (woman)

royai week completely slipped my mind with everything that’s been going on and my submissions will probably be really tardy (if they even get finished at all HAHAH) but the prompts this year have been really nudging me back towards writing again. they’re INCREDIBLE!!! I can’t wait to see how everyone interprets it - I'm sure it’ll be fantastic. i have to confess I've been kinda out of fma/royai lately bcs I've been working on other original stuff (also because my latest obsession is Star Wars LOL but this fandom was truly one of the best things that happened to me in 2020 and it’s just really nice to see everyone coming together again for the best week of the year. genuinely feels like Christmas in the summer but instead of mistletoe we have fic. what’s not to love?

anyways yeah tldr idk if I'll end up participating but I'm really looking forward to see what everyone has in store!!! x

ALRIGHT im off to bed take care and stay hydrated and safe mates I’m sending yall all my love to conquer the upcoming week <3

8 notes · View notes

tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

Text

Libel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, John

Words are powerful weapons. It doesn’t matter how popular you are when the rumour mill turns against you.

Day three “Sticks and stones may break my bones but...” of @whumptober-archive and we’re using the prompts insults and “Who did this to you?” today. Romantic trouble ahead, with cheating and nasty false accusations.

Scott slouched against the wall, feeling the cool but rough texture of the bricks pressing against the bare skin of his arms. The day had been hell from beginning to end, and now he just wanted to go home, but it was a Tuesday and Tuesdays were special.

On a Wednesday and Thursday, he had to leave school the moment class let out to pick up Alan from daycare, because Grandma had her own commitments that she couldn’t reschedule and Dad was always too busy with work. On Mondays and Fridays, John stayed behind for extra classes, so Scott would go home alone – or hang out with friends, or-

Well.

On Tuesdays, John had no extra classes, Grandma was free to pick up Alan, and Scott’s schedule was clear, so they made a point of going home together. It was a routine they’d settled into almost immediately, and Scott enjoyed the quiet time with just his immediate brother before they returned to the chaos that was the rest of their family.

John’s last class was the far end of the campus from the gates, so Scott always made it to the meeting point first by a few minutes. Sometimes several, if the quiet ginger got caught up talking to a teacher about an assignment, which happened more often than not. Today, he’d been waiting for five, and there was yet to be a sign of him.

Today had been rotten. Scott didn’t want to still be on campus, conscious of all the eyes boring into him as his year mates moved past in packs. None of their gazes were friendly; several were outright hostile, and he pressed back a little further into the wall of the math block in a vain attempt to escape.

His phone was in his hand, a message typed out by trembling fingers and waiting to be sent.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home.

A thumb hovered over the send key. All it had to do was descend and then he could slip away from the hoards and their accusing eyes. Escape from school and hide out in the woods for a while to try and come to terms with exactly what had happened before slinking home in time for dinner.

It would spare him John’s reaction for a little while longer, too.

But while John never said it in so many words, Scott knew that he looked forwards to their once-a-week walk home, too. He’d be disappointed if Scott bailed on him – and confused, because Scott hadn’t bailed on him once all year, despite occasional social invites. With four brothers, one-on-one time with any of them was precious, and Scott was always at loath to give it up.

“Sorry I’m late.” John was talking even before he rounded the corner to their meeting place, and Scott dropped the phone back into his pocket, unsent message still taking up the screen. He hadn’t decided in time, or maybe he subconsciously just wanted to get the judgement over with. “Mr Kemp-”

Scott looked up as his brother’s voice cut off, unable to muster even a faint grin at the sight of him. Turquoise eyes were wide with horror as John stared, whatever Mr Kemp had said or done immediately forgotten.

“Hey, John,” he greeted. His voice fell flat even to his own ears, and he watched as John stashed the tablet perpetually in his hand into his messenger bag before he hurried the last few paces towards him.

A pale hand rose up and lingered in front of his face, not quite touching as it traced something on his skin. The black eye that had swollen his left eye almost shut, probably.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was glacier cold, and barely above a whisper. It was less a question and more a demand – a copy of Scott’s own attitude whenever he found out someone was hurting his brothers.

John always was observant.

“It doesn’t matter.” It wasn’t a story Scott wanted to tell to anyone, and if it hadn’t spread far enough through the school to reach John’s ears during the day, then he wasn’t about to provide a second wind. “Let’s get out of here.” He pushed off from the brick wall, gallantly ignoring the screaming protests of his battered body at the idea of moving.

Scott was pretty sure there was nothing serious, it just hurt and no doubt his skin was varying shades of bruised.

“Scott,” John warned, but he didn’t try to stop him. Maybe he knew that Scott needed to get out – then again, Scott suspected that he was broadcasting that painfully loudly to his brother.

They left the safety of their meeting point and joined the throng headed for the gate.

“Bastard.” It wasn’t clear where the word came from, but it was from somewhere in the masses of teenagers they were forging through.

“Creep.”

“Sick.”

“Filthy.”

“Slut.”

Each word, each insult, crashed into him and suffocated him a little more. It hurt, pain adding onto the pain that had started it all in the first place – hurt more than his physical wounds, an almost-negligible throbbing that would probably make its presence known sharply once the haze of disbelief and emotional impact faded.

Beside him, John seemed to stand a little straighter, a little taller in a reversal of their usual stances, where the ginger was the one that tended to aim for invisibility and Scott was the one that strode ahead purposefully. He cut a swathe through the milling, jeering crowds, forcing a path to open up for them. If Scott could look anywhere other than the stained, chewing-gum riddled tarmac, he suspected he might find that John’s face was thunderous enough to cut through even the upperclassmen he usually ignored.

He was jostled suddenly, someone crashing into his shoulder hard enough to drive him staggering into John, and the cacophony of noise continued as he stumbled back upright with his brother’s hand now lightly holding his arm. In his periphery, he saw John pluck his own phone out of his bag. For a moment his brother did nothing about whatever was on the screen, but then he was tapping out a message Scott couldn’t read before sliding his phone away again.

His other hand didn’t leave Scott’s arm. Not when they reached the gate, and Scott stumbled over a stray ankle suddenly in his path, or when they passed it and a moped sped past close enough that he could hear the rider’s snarled insults over the roaring engine.

Not even when he diverted from their route home all of a sudden, nudging Scott down a narrow alley that led towards the woods, losing the crowds and replacing them with large, old trees packed closely enough together that the casual observer couldn’t see between them.

It was Scott’s favourite place to retreat when he needed his own space, and John – unsurprisingly – knew that.

“Scott, what happened?” John drew them to a halt under the reaching arms of a particularly large tree, branches thick and low and almost forming a cavern of brown and green.

He shook his head, not sure he could trust his voice not to betray him. The soft fingers left his arm, and John moved to stand directly in front of him. Scott looked at the ground, littered with broken twigs and the occasional fallen leaf, rather than meet his eyes.

He should’ve known better than to hope John would leave it alone.

“Something happened with Christie.”

It was too confident to be a guess, but that was John all over, putting the facts together and reaching the logical conclusions.

Scott sank down to the ground, his bag landing heavily beside him. John followed more gracefully, crouching in front of him.

“Did she dump you?”

The noise that forced its way out of Scott’s throat was best described as strangled laughter, driven by despair rather than humour. “No.” The word cracked in half.

Morning recess, leaving the cafeteria with her favourite chocolate in hand as a surprise. Rounding a corner into the locker corridor. Christie with her tongue down another boy’s throat, top riding up indecently high with the guy’s hand clearly snaking inside her bra.

Heartbreak.

“I ended it.”

His brother inhaled sharply. “What did she do?”

What didn’t she do? Breaking his heart was just the start; he was popular, but so was she, and the person who cried out that they were a victim first was almost always the one believed.

Popularity meant nothing against the rumour mill, and something Scott had never realised was how good an actress Christie was. While he’d spent the rest of recess hidden away, choking out tears of betrayal and shock, she’d-

He didn’t even know why she’d done it. It felt like a revenge tactic, but Scott had no idea what she was avenging, why she was suddenly so determined to ruin him.

Coming back to class, eyes still stinging, to find metaphorical daggers pressed to his throat by every student in the room, had been a shock. Christie had been sobbing into the chest of Peter, a boy Scott normally got on with fine but suddenly looked like he wanted nothing better than to murder him where he stood.

It wasn’t until lunch time that he found out what she’d told everyone, letting the story spread like wildfire across their year group until Scott was the scum of the earth in the eyes of everyone.

She’d dumped him, the rumour mill said even though Scott knew for certain that he’d been the one to tell her we’re over while fighting back tears. The chocolates had fallen to the floor and he had the stain on one sneaker to prove he’d accidentally stepped on them, too. She’d dumped him, she’d claimed amongst floods of tears and ruined makeup, for pushing too far, for ignoring her boundaries, for taking more than she was willing to give.

They’d never even got as far as she had with the random guy he didn’t know in the corridor.

“I- I can’t,” he choked out, tears spilling out and stinging his cheeks as they slid down. He swiped at them, trying in vain to hide them from the little brother regarding him with an ever-growing fury he knew wasn’t aimed at him.

“Tell me who beat you,” John insisted, thankfully changing tack although Scott knew the topic of Christie was only temporarily shelved. “Did you see the nurse?”

Christie had two brothers, twins in their final year and both demons on the football pitch. They’d always been reasonably chill towards Scott, at least much as older brothers would be, but just like any decent big brothers, took the distress of younger siblings very seriously.

They also had several friends who likewise adored sweet, charming Christie.

Even if he wasn’t still reeling from finding his now-ex girlfriend shacking up with another guy, Scott would never have stood a chance against the pack of upperclassmen. Stunned by the accusations hurtled his way, he’d been easy pickings.

He shook his head.

“Scott…” John swallowed and slender fingers brushed against the side of his face, where he was no doubt a deep purple from the fist that had crashed into it. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but if that crowd at the gate were anything to go buy, it’s only a matter of time before the whole school hears something. I can’t help if I don’t know what we’re up against.”

“We?” The word slipped out without permission, a startle against his brother’s proclamation. “No- John- This-”

“They hurt you.” John’s voice was laced with stubborn steel. “I doubt Grandma’s going to let you out of her sight for the rest of the week at least. Talk to me, Scott.”

He shook his head. The tears kept flowing, periodically yanking sobs from his throat; each one had him hunching over further, coiled across his tender abdomen as he continued wiping away the salty liquid to no avail.

John edged closer, slender hands gripping his shoulders lightly. “I’m here,” he promised. “I’m here, and I’m not letting them hurt you again.”

It shouldn’t be a younger brother reassuring an elder – that went against the rules engrained deep within him – but John was exuding confidence and protectiveness in a way that was reassuring. After a day of being destroyed both emotionally and literally, the tattered remains of Scott’s psyche found themselves clinging to every word and gesture.

It was enough to, haltingly, summarise the story. No details, no explanations, just a shaking recounting of how she’d cheated on him, how she’d fuelled the rumour mill, how her brothers had reacted.

The hug his brother pulled him into, gentle and warm but firm and protective, promised safety and love. Promised that John believed him, a fear he hadn’t even realised was lurking until it was dismissed.

"You’re not going in tomorrow,” John told him. “Not with these injuries, and not with that mob. Grandma will back me up on that.”

Scott wanted to protest, but even the thought of walking back into school again, with the hissed words following him and aura of menace honing in on him, was enough to have his heartrate picking up like a rabbit’s. He said nothing.

John didn’t need him to, and the two of them sat in near-silence, wind rustling the leaves and tears dripping from his eyes onto his brother’s shoulder.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that as his tear ducts ran dry and eyes transformed into crusty, stinging messes. Eventually, John pulled back slightly.

“Ready to go home?” his brother asked.

No. No, Scott was not ready to go home and face his family looking like this, but he didn’t have a choice. They’d find out sooner rather than later, and the longer he and John took to get back, the more Grandma would worry.

She was probably already frantic, he realised as his vision focused enough to register that dusk was hitting. They must have missed dinner.

“Don’t worry.” John pulled out his phone. “I told Grandma we’d be back late.” Scott caught a glimpse of Scott’s upset, we’ll be back late, and an answering I’ll save you some dinner, don’t stay out too long, amongst several messages of concern from her in the interim. The timestamps were from just after he’d met up with John after school – long before he’d started talking to his brother.

He blinked. That didn’t make sense. How did John know? Actually, how had John known that he needed to come here, and not home?

The phone disappeared back into John’s bag, but not before Scott spotted his name high up in the message list. Too high, considering he hadn’t sent him a message in days.

He fished his own phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it. Notifications of messages from half his classmates sprung up everywhere, the message previews full of nothing nice, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Sorry, something came up. I’ll see you at home, the screen said, the same text he’d composed while considering ditching John and running. The same text he knew he’d never actually sent.

It was on read.

A split-second memory of being jostled while passing through the gate flashed through his mind.

“Thanks for deciding to wait for me after all.” John plucked the device from his fingers, and scowled down at the screen. “I’m holding onto this for a while.”

Scott didn’t bother arguing, even though he knew full well that John would be collecting as much data as he possibly could from every single threatening message and probably had less than friendly intentions for doing so. He was just too drained to do anything about it, and now that he’d exposed the situation onto his brother, it almost felt like a relief to let someone else handle things for a while.

“Ready to go home?” John asked him again.

Home meant worried family and an inordinate amount of fussing over the injuries he had. Home meant burnt dinner leftovers because it had been his turn to cook. Home meant more questions to field when he just wanted to bury his head in his pillow and pretend the day hadn’t happened.

Home meant a family who would believe his side of the story. Home meant unconditional love and support.

Home meant safety.

He nodded and let John guide him back to his feet, his brother keeping a supporting arm around him even once he was vertical.

Home sounded like the best place to be.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #who did this to you?#thunderbirds are go #fic #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #thunderwhump #thunderangst

24 notes · View notes

iliumheightnights · 4 years ago

Text

Even Heroes Need Breaks | Tony Stark x Male Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark x Male Reader

Summary: Tony had been told to take it easy and rest. He should have listened.

…

“Tony, you’ve been cooped in here all day. Please come to bed honey.”

Tony was hunched over his work table working on a new module for the suit. He had been in the lab since early in the morning and now it was becoming late at night. Tony couldn’t even remember if he had even left the lab at all today. Probably not.

Tony looked up and waved off his husband. “It’s fine. I’ll get some sleep soon.”

Y/n huffed and walked over to Tony. “No,dear,it’s not. Please come to bed. I’m worried about you.”

Tony looked into Y/n’s eyes and huffed. He hated when his husband gave him the puppy eyes. With a sigh Tony shut off his computer,saving his work of course, and standing up. “Fine. But it’s not fair, you’re cheating using those eyes.”

Y/n huffed and wrapped his arms around Tony. “They are my secret weapon. Now come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Tony and Y/n left the lab and made their way to their bedroom. Closing the door, Y/n locked it and turned back to his husband. With a smirk he helped strip Tony of his clothes before doing the same and climbing into bed with him.

Y/n was woken up by lots of coughing. Turning over he saw Tony was the one doing all of the coughing. He quickly got up. “Tony hey, are you okay?” Feeling his forehead. “Tony you’re burning up! Stay in bed, I'll be right back.” Tony huffed out a laugh. “Anything you say doctor.”

Y/n went full doctor mode and quickly ran to the kitchen. He got a nice glass of ice water before grabbing a thermometer and returning to Tony. “Here. We’re going to take your temp and I brought you some water to help that cough.” Tony smiled at him. “My hero.”

After taking Tony’s temp, they saw it was high, but not dangerously high. After talking with Friday it was thought Tony was just tired and a bit fatigued from overworking himself. Tony pulled the covers over his face when he saw the look his husband was giving him.

“Okay you were right! I’m sorry please stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re my mom.”

“Well you did say she was the best. Now, I’m going to make you some soup. Put on something to watch and DON’T get out of this bed. If you do I’ll force you back in here.”

“Oh is that a promise?”

“No sex while you’re sick.”

“No! Hurry up and get me soup. I’ll be better then.”

“Sure you will.”

Leaving the room, Y/n returned to the kitchen. Getting out a pot he turned on the stove and began making Tony some soup. At the same time the elevator dinged and the familiar voice of a certain teenager.

“Hey Mr.Starks! I’m here!”

“Peter in here!”

Peter came into the kitchen. “Hey Mr.Y/n! Watcha making?”

“Just some soup for Tony. He’s not feeling good today.”

At that Peter seemed to panic a bit. “What? Is he okay? Is everything alright?” Y/n quickly held out his hands to calm the kid.

“Relax, relax. Breath in and out. Tony’s fine, just a bit of overworking that got him down for a bit. He should be fine and back to overworking himself in the lab tomorrow.”

Peter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, he seemed to have a nervous look. “Yeah sorry about that. I probably don’t help with keeping him out of there.”

“Pete it’s fine. You’re like a son to us, he wouldn’t pass up hanging out with you in a heartbeat. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“Peter blushed even more but his smile grew so wide. “You really consider me your son?”

“Well duh, you’ve grown on us...like mold.” Y/n laughed and ruffled Peter’s hair. Peter couldn’t help but laugh as well, he was glad to have two amazing father figures in his life, especially to help him with all the spiderman things.

“Well, I should probably go then since I don’t want to disturb you guys. Tell Mr.Stark I said hi and hope he gets better.”

“I will. Be careful on your way home Pete. Want me to get Happy to drive you?”

“Nah. I’ll take the expressway.” The boy said, pulling out the spiderman suit. “Bye Mr.Stark!”

“Bye kid.”

Luckily by the time Peter had left, the soup was done. Pouring some into a bowl and grabbing some napkins and a spoon, he took it to Tony. Entering the room he found his husband watching Handy Manny believe it or not.

“You know, maybe I should talk Strange into making me sentient tools. They could be helpful.”

“But you already have Happy and Rhodey.” Tony laughed and Y/n could have sworn he heard the two mean in question yell somewhere in the universe. “Here I brought you some soup.”

“Chicken noodle?”

“Literally the only soup I know for sick people.”

“You’re so stereotypical Y/n.”

“And you married me, so what’s that say?”

“Oh that was just cold. Anyways was that Peter I heard?”

“Yes it was, he said he hoped you got better.” That made Tony smile.

Y/n tried to hand the soup over to Tony, but the man only gave him sad eyes. “Feed me?” Y/n let out a snort and rolled his eyes. “Not in your wildest dreams.”

“But I’ve been good.”

“I will spill this hot soup on your crotch and not be sorry.”

He didn’t drop his puppy dog eyes and Y/n sighed rolling his eyes. “Fine! Shuffle over a bit.”

With that Tony gained a massive smirk on his face and shuffled over. Y/n couldn’t help but smile seeing how his husband was acting. Sitting on the bed he stirred the bowl and blew on it to cool it down before taking a bit.

“Here comes the airplane!” Tony gave him a look and Y/n laughed. “What? YOU wanted to be fed.”

Begrudgingly, Tony opened his mouth for the airplane.

“You know this actually is kind of romantic.”

“What, me feeding you after you overworked yourself?”

“You taking care of me.”

Y/n smiled at the man. “I’ll always take care of you Tony, I just wish you could take care of yourself sometimes.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ll try and not get so stuck up in my work.”

“That’s all I ask, that and to make sure that you're taking care of yourself.”

Now empty, the bowl was set on the bedside table and Y/n cuddled into Tony’s side. “Now, how about I run us a bath-”

“Us?”

“Us. Then we binge watch horrible netflix rom coms?”

“Oh that sounds awful. I’m in.”

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader

281 notes · View notes

writers-blogck · 4 years ago

Text

Animal Crossing Cuddles ( Kenma Kozume x Reader )

Warning(s): This is literally just because I am so addicted to Animal Crossing right now. I am doing a full makeover of my island.

Title: Animal Crossing Cuddles Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 1,518

"Come on, that is like the third one in a row! I just want to find some furniture but all I'm getting is bees!" You yelled at the small screen on your Nintendo Switch Lite, hands clenching the console tightly. If it wasn't something so near and dear to you, there would be a slim chance that you would just throw the torture machine against the wall. Yet, the light pastel colors of the custom Switch your boyfriend had got for you made you keep just enough of a level head to keep from breaking the precious item. Who would think that Animal Crossing could make you so angry?! It was supposed to be a relaxing game.

You had woken up this morning with a pounding headache and sniffles that no matter how much you tried, wouldn't stop. Where was your body getting all of that gunk?! How many tissues had you used today? All you could see was the mountain of white fluff hidden in your trashcan.

At least you were warm, that had to be a plus. You were wearing one of your own hoodies but Kenma had sprayed his cologne on it last time you spent the night at his house. How considerate. He knew that your hoodie fit you comfortably so instead of giving you his hoodie, he made your own smell like him. He thought it would be better in case his hoodies were too big or small on you. But your hoodie wasn't enough so you were wrapped up in your fuzzy cat blanket which made it perfect.

Well, it would be perfect if these bees didn't keep falling out of these trees!

"Get out of my way Stitches or else you will be getting the net too!" You grumbled, your back sliding against the warmth of your sheets. Only a hint of your face and hands could be seen as you hid in your fortress made of blankets and the wonderful smell of your long-term boyfriend. A sick burrito perhaps.

Kenma's cologne was something burnt in your memory. The two of you had been dating since the beginning of middle school and have been going strong since. It started out as a simple puppy love relationship but as the two of you got older, the relationship grew with you. Kuroo had joked that the two of you were already a married couple and you would be lying if you said that it didn't make you happy when he said that. Kenma may not show it but you think it makes him happy too. It was fun to daydream about a future together.

One way that the two of you bonded in a domestic sense was with Animal Crossing. It was a way for the two of you to bond when you couldn't visit each other. It was hard at times, especially with Kenma's overnight volleyball trips, for the two of you to meet up in person as much as you would like. Still, your relationship together was strong enough that those issues were nothing more than simple bumps in the road of your relationship. At this point, dealing with the times the two of you had to do long-distance communication was normal.

During one of the overnight trips with the team coming back from Karasuno, the two of you spent most of his trip home on Animal Crossing. He holed up in the back of the bus with his phone, face timing you with just enough light so you could see his cat-like eyes. That trip had been filled with silence save for the rumble of the bus in the background but it still was one of your favorite memories. Animal Crossing had made a special place in both of your hearts.

Kenma had both a normal Switch as well as the Lite version way before the game came out. You had never been as into games as your boyfriend but you had always liked playing Animal Crossing on Kenma's old DS. When the two of you were younger, he would let you borrow his DS during free-time. You were one of the rare people he let use his systems. He had even let you take it home with you when you had a hard week. He said that it would help to play over the weekend. The sweet music of Animal Crossing truly did help you relax after a tough week.

Kenma decided to go all the way and more when he commissioned someone for a custom Nekoma Pastel Switch Lite just for you to be able to play the game with him. Animal Crossing meant so much to him and with the promise of being able to play it with you, he was willing to do anything he had to. He was great at giving gifts that he put a lot of thought into. HE could have just bought you a normal Lite (which would already be a huge thing) but then that sweetheart had to go and get you one specially designed. He was so casual about it too:

- So, I got you the new Animal Crossing. - Oh, that's sweet but I don't have anything to play it on. - I got you a Switch Lite too. - Kenmaaaaaa - It's customized too. - KENMAAAAAAA

"It sounds like you are having a hard time in here." The calm voice of your boyfriend made you look up from your current gaming issue in shock. You were surprised to see him standing there in your doorway, he shouldn't be here. You didn't want to get him sick. Before you could say anything, he was already shutting the door to your bedroom and walking in with his backpack slung over his shoulder. He didn't seem to be worried in any way about that as he sat down on the edge of your bed. Your eyes glanced at your phone and just now noticed the blinking notification from his message(s). Dang, that cold medicine was really getting to you.

"Puddin'-head, you shouldn't be here," You were surprised by how whiny your voice sounded as you spoke. You were just worried about your boyfriend, he didn't have time to get sick. He was needed on the team, he was their setter after all. You would never hear the end of it from Kuroo if Kenma got sick because of you. Never! Rooster head would spam your phone with annoying texts as revenge.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I brought my notes over for you to copy since you weren't able to make it to class today." His monotone voice was calming and had you believing everything was fine. How was he able to get you to go along with anything he said?! With the lack of sleep in your system and the cold medicine in your veins, it was easy to believe his words. Kenma had a good immune system, he wouldn't catch whatever you had. ( Kuroo would be ranting in your group chat together for the next three hours when he heard about Kenma going over to your house. He sounded more like a worried mother than even Sugawara from Karasuno ).

Before you could abject any further, your small console was swiped from your hands as Kenma took the space next to you on your bed. He began to play your game as casually as he would his own. You were about to open your mouth to complain about his theft when he continued to talk -

"I can go island hopping for you to get you some money while you do your work. I know you don't want to but you need to get those notes copied. You can have this back when you are finished. This way you won't be behind when you get back to school." Kenma's fingers moved over the buttons just like an expert, which you would be tempted to say he was. You had never met anyone that played games as much as he did. If he could, you bet Kenma would play games even when he was asleep. Kuroo already had to take his console away to make sure the blonde ate.

"But it's Friday! I have all weekend to get it done. Why do I have to do it right now?"

"Because you and I know that you won't do it if I'm not here and I won't be able to come over for the next few days. That means that you need to get it done before we can do anything. When you finish, maybe we can even watch a movie but you first have to get caught up on what you missed."

"Can I at least lay on your lap while I do it?" A pout graced your face and Kenma couldn't keep himself from smiling. He wasn't sure how he got so lucky to have someone like you in his life.

"You never have to ask. I'm always going to be here for you, whether it is for you to copy notes from or to be a human heater."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haitober #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu! imagines #haikyuu!! fanfiction #kenma #kenma scenario #kenma imagine #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x you #kenma kozume x y/n #kenma kozume x reader

267 notes · View notes

scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

First Dates

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 6,151 Tags: SFW, First dates, Making out, Phone calls, Running, Yoga, Fluff Summary: After California, Aaron and Sophie go on three perfectly imperfect dates. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 1 year-1 year 3 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to A03 or read below! “Jet sweet jet,” Prentiss says as they board the plane after California, and Aaron seconds it; the good thing is it’s only Friday afternoon, so at least they get a head start to the weekend, barring another emergency case—not that he doesn’t have piles of work to do, as usual, but it pleases him to think he might get the chance to see Sophie at some point, in an unofficial capacity.

“You know, 14 is when we start to make our own musical choices. Our cognitive development evolves at that age and we start to form our own cultural identity,” he hears Reid say as he sinks down into his seat, headphones hanging around his neck. He and Sophie must be having a conversation about music, because she nods easily.

“That makes sense, actually,” she says, taking the chair across from him. “I remember being obsessed with Bon Jovi around that age, and I was definitely making decisions with my pants.”

Well that’s an interesting piece of information for her to divulge. Reid blushes a little, and pulls on his headphones. Sophie pops in one earbud, looks up at Aaron, smiles, then looks down at her phone and starts typing.

SC: What?

AH: What, what? he replies.

SC: You’re staring.

AH: Maybe I just think you’re worth staring at.

He feels cheesy for saying it, but she grins.

SC: Sure, okay.

SC: Are you going to do work?

AH: You know me.

SC: That’s a yes.

SC: In case I don’t get to talk to you… will you call me tonight?

AH: Absolutely.

She tucks away her phone, succumbs to her—podcast, he guesses by the slight look of concentration on her face—and he works on his paperwork in relative silence, with the ghost of a smile on his face.

“So what are you up to? What do you do when you get home from traveling?” he asks over the phone that night, after they’ve made a little small talk.

“Well, I put a record on—it’s low, so you probably can’t hear it. Bob Dylan.” She’s right, he can’t hear it, but knowing what she chose makes him smile.

“Bob Dylan, Bon Jovi… Your taste in music isn’t what I would have expected.”

“I’ve always been a little behind the times when it comes to music. I like to be able to rely on my faithful favorites.” She pauses, taking a drink maybe, and he can hear kitchen sounds in the background. “I took a nice, hot bath, opened a bottle of wine. I usually make some kind of comfort food, if I have time to stop at the market.” It’s only 8, so that, along with the kitchen sounds, has him betting she’s whipping something up for herself.

“Mmm, what’s on the menu?”

“It’s a dish my papa always used to make when we were sick. It doesn’t sound great—fagioli su pane tostato, which means beans on toast. It’s white beans cooked in this olive oil broth and then served on sourdough toast rubbed with garlic. It tastes so much better than it sounds.”

“It sounds good when you say it in Italian. Maybe we could make it together, some night.” He hopes he’s not imagining the smile in her voice when she replies.

“I’d like that a lot. So what do you do to unwind after traveling?”

“I have a beer, take a long, hot shower—I have a great shower. Sometimes I freeze meals and I’ll warm something up if I feel like it, but tonight it’s Indian takeout.” He takes a sip of said beer, sprawls out further on the couch.

“Oh, what did you get? Indian food is great, I love chana masala on a comfort food day.”

“Ah, I got butter chicken and samosas. My usual; very unoriginal.”

“Can’t go wrong with a samosa though, yum. What else do you like to do to relax? No offense, but you always seem just as stressed on Mondays as you do on Fridays.” He chuckles at that, can see how that would be true.

“Well I have work to do tonight, but on our free weekends I go for a run in the park instead of my neighborhood, or very rarely, I get to play golf.”

“Hmm, you play golf?” Her tone of voice is low, but light, and he struggles to figure out her intent behind that.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me…”

“Not teasing, I’m intrigued. I’ve never been golfing or even watched golf before. Mostly I’m trying to visualize you in the little golf outfit, though.” He’s grinning his face off, he’s sure, but he can’t help it; it feels good to flirt with her, to be flirted with by her, openly now. “I run too, or I like kickboxing, Pilates. I don’t always have time to get to the gym anymore, so I do home workouts when I can. Yoga every day.” So, he knows she does yoga, is always packing her yoga blanket when they travel for cases, but left to sit and imagine it for a moment… how she looked on vacation, tiny outfit, bendy body...

“Talk about something to visualize,” he adds, very boldly, he thinks, and she hums down the line. He hopes his flirting affects her the way hers affects him.

“Yeah, we were doing so good there for a minute and now I can’t think of anything but you in a polo and khakis. Must be the wine.”

“Is that something you find sexy? A polo and khakis? That’s practically church attire.”

“Where you’re concerned, there’s not much I don’t find sexy.” He chuckles, runs his hand through his hair—he knows he looks alright, isn’t un attractive or anything, but sexy? She might be overselling it a little bit. “I should probably rein that in. Sorry.”

“No, it’s… I like that you feel that way.” He wants to say, ‘if you find me even one tenth as sexy as I find you, it would be a miracle’, but his self-esteem isn’t quite that low. And his doorbell rings. “My delivery is here, muting you for a second.”

“Should I let you go?” she asks when he returns. He can hear the sound of her spoon clinking against her bowl, assumes she’s getting ready to eat, too.

“No. I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d like to listen to you talk some more.”

“Okay. What do you want to hear about?”

“I’d like to hear more about your band in Chicago. Did you write music?”

“One of the guys in my band wrote the music, I just sang it; didn’t have much to say.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he says honestly, because she is always thoughtful and insightful, so smart.

“Well the Sophie you know now is much more open, if you can imagine that. I used to be very closed off. The team helps; hard to be closed off when you’re around someone 24/7.”

“I’m glad you feel that the BAU has been good for you; you’ve been very good for us. And you said you sing at your friend’s bar sometimes? I might have to crash one of these nights so I can see you in action.” She laughs, a little self conscious.

“It's really nothing. Just a good way to blow off some steam. So how about you? Are you musically inclined or anything?”

“I can play the guitar.” Her spoon clinks against her bowl in the background again, and she swallows a bite.

“Hold on. You play guitar? This is important information.” He chuckles.

“How so?”

“Because it’s hot.”

“Maybe I should amend that: I could play the guitar. I haven’t in probably… five years? So I may be completely horrible.”

“Nope, doesn’t matter. If you still own a guitar, you can keep the hotness.”

They both eat, chatting in between bites, and they’ve been on the phone for two hours when she starts yawning. He suddenly has a brilliant idea.

“Do you want to meet up and go for a run tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, I would really like that,” she says, sounding a little more awake. “Is it a date? Or just two people hanging out that want to see each other naked?” He laughs out loud.

“You want to see me naked? I thought you wanted to see me in khakis.”

“Yes, I want to see you naked; I thought that much was clear when I tried undressing you the other day. I want to see both.”

“It’s a date, then. If you want it to be. I was still working on a plan...”

“No plan necessary. I’m easy to please: I just want to see you, in running clothes or golf clothes or no clothes.”

“I’ll text you the address. Meet me there at 7?”

“It’s a date.” The next morning, he is sitting in his car at the park, and he looks up from his phone to see Sophie walking toward him, impossibly beautiful for 7 AM. Her hair is pulled back in a thick, wavy ponytail, face clear of makeup and looking radiant, softly smiling, and he swears his heart skips a beat.

Isn’t it a little too soon for beat skipping? This is only their first date, after all.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning in his window. She looks around the parking lot, which is fairly secluded at this time of the morning. “How are you?”

“A little tired, but good,” he replies and her smile grows brighter. “You?”

“I’m good. Probably shouldn’t have kept you up so late talking. You need your beauty sleep.” She reaches out to brush a hand over the hair at his temple, and he closes his eyes for a moment, content.

“Well you obviously don’t. How do you look like that at 7 AM?”

“This?” she asks, gesturing to her face and body, as if he needed a reason to look. She is fit and perky in black leggings and a University of Chicago t-shirt, and he mentally hopes that she’s not faster than him, or her ass is going to be very distracting. “Just rolled out of bed and came down. Nothing special about this.”

“I beg to differ.” She leans back in, arms crossed casually, smiles again.

“Well you’re sweet. Hey, have you ever run into someone from work here?” He scans the lot as if her question caused one of their coworkers to materialize out of thin air, then realizes he’s being silly.

“No, I haven’t so far. Why do you ask?” Ducking her head, she looks a little shy, though the corners of her lips are turned up.

“I was just wondering if I’ll get to kiss you today.”

There goes his heart, skipping beats again.

He leans forward, a hand on her cheek, and presses his mouth to hers, slow and soft. He’d almost forgotten how nice it is to kiss someone who likes you—the shared breath, the soft smack of lips, the reluctance to break the kiss—and he touches her chin as they separate. When she opens her eyes, they look dreamy, and he preens a little at causing that reaction.

“Okay, yeah. That’s nice.” He huffs a laugh and she steps away from the car, giving him space to exit. “Ready to run?”

“Was kind of hoping to kiss some more,” he teases, but he climbs out of the car and locks up.

They keep pace together well, chatting easily about their plans for the day, and Sophie points out every dog they pass, which is so endearing his face almost hurts from smiling.

“What is it?” she asks as he shakes his head, laughs, when they pass a corgi puppy that is, admittedly, adorable.

“You’re cute, that’s all. It’s nice to see joy on your face when our lives are usually surrounded by darkness.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to see it on yours, too.” She reaches out to touch his cheek, and he presses against it.

As far as dates go, this one is off to a beautiful start.

“That was fun. I enjoyed spending the morning with you,” she says as they walk back to their cars. He is a little winded, and she isn’t. It’s not entirely fair.

“I agree, it was fun. It’s nice to have a running partner.”

“Is that all I am?” she asks with an innocent expression, and he shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.” He leans in for a quick, sweet kiss that feels as natural as the slower, more passionate kisses they’ve shared, and they both pull back smiling. “Are you hungry?”

“We just ran 4 miles, I’m starving. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a very casual diner around the corner that makes great breakfast; I’m sure they won’t mind all your sweat,” he teases, gesturing to her shirt. He’s sweatier by far, which makes it so funny, and she laughs.

“Rude, but I’m in. Lead the way.”

The diner is a favorite of his, somewhere he goes every Saturday he runs in the park. He’s a very habit-driven person, and it wouldn’t feel right to leave without stopping by; that he gets to bring Sophie is just the icing on the cake.

“Do you usually get the same thing when you come here, or are you adventurous?” she asks, looking over the menu.

“I am not adventurous. I get a western omelette with mushrooms, potatoes on the side, almost religiously.” She smiles at him over the menu, and he wonders if she likes that quality, or if he’s one wrong comment away from being seen as an old man and not ‘boyfriend material’. He wonders if he’ll ever stop feeling self conscious about his age, where she’s concerned.

“When I find something I like I am also not adventurous. I stick with what I know.”

“Hi there. You have a friend today, Mr. Hotchner.” He smiles at the voice of his favorite waitress, though he wishes she wouldn’t have made him sound like he’s friendless any other time. She stands between his chair and Sophie’s, grinning.

“Yes Julia, this is Miss Cortes.” Sophie reaches out her hand with a warm smile.

“Sophie, if you like. Nice to meet you, Julia. This guy comes here a lot, huh?”

“Oh yes, he’s one of my favorite regulars: Kind, patient, and easy to please.”

“Great qualities in a man,” Sophie jokes, and he’s never heard Julia laugh so hard. She tends to have that effect on people, he thinks. “I feel special, then, being invited to your spot,” she says, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm fairly certain you’re the first person he’s ever brought, so you must be special, hon.” Julia gives her a wink, and he’d be embarrassed but… she’s right. And he didn’t invite her here lightly. Sharing this place means something to him. “So I know your fella wants the western with mushrooms, potatoes on the side, OJ with his coffee. How about you, sweetie?”

“Oh, um,” Sophie begins, and it looks like she’s blushing at the whole ‘fella’ thing. It’s too cute. “Mixed grill please, with cheddar, and I’ll have orange juice too. Thank you.”

When Julia walks away, Sophie crosses her arms on the table, looks at him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just… enjoying myself. Being with you.” She reaches out a hand, and he takes it, smiling softly. They don’t move until Julia comes back with their plates and they need to make room.

“This has been the most fun date I’ve ever been on. I don’t want it to end,” she says as they walk back to the parking lot, bellies full of food.

“But?”

“But I know inviting you back to my place wouldn’t be a great idea yet. Well, it would be a great idea, but I know that taking it slow is important. And I can’t promise I wouldn’t get handsy again.”

“Taking it slow is important,” he agrees, and he leans down to kiss her, warm, lingering, “but maybe we could get handsy after our second date.”

“Mmm. I’m content with just kissing if you keep kissing me like that. Touching will just be a bonus.” They kiss more, easy, casual kisses that make them both smile. “So you want to go on another date with me?” she asks as they approach her car.

“Absolutely. I really like you.” He takes her hands in his, squeezes them. “Like you said before, I think it was something I’ve been trying not to feel for a while.”

“I think there’s a lot you try not to feel. I’m glad you’re willing to give me a chance.” They kiss again, and it feels like goodbye. “Are you sure you can’t go to the farmers’ market with me?” He’d love to, but he has to do some extra work to make up for last night and this morning.

“Yeah, I wish I could. Next week, for sure.”

“Okay, that sounds good. I’ll let you go—for the record, I don’t want to,” she says, and she takes a step back, so their arms are stretched further.

“Neither do I. I’ll call you later,” he promises, and he drops her hands, walks away.

When he looks back, she’s looking at him too, soft, and she waves goodbye.

He’s officially a goner.

“Did you have a good time at the farmers’ market?” he asks later, when they speak on the phone that evening.

“Oh yeah, great haul. I just hope I get to eat it all before we inevitably get called to leave town. I should freeze stuff like you. There was music, too, and so many dogs. How was your day?”

“It was good, productive.” She chuckles softly.

“Sounds like a blast.”

“I had my fun with you, this morning. And now.”

“Aw. That makes me happy. I had fun too. And I love talking on the phone with you. It’s my favorite part of the day.” He can hear the water running in the background. “What are you doing now?”

“Are you sure you want to hear? It’s very sexy.” She hums, thoughtful.

“Then yes, absolutely I want to hear.”

“I’m folding laundry.”

“I know you said that as a joke, but I can find a way to make it arousing. It’s a gift I have, apparently, where you’re concerned.” It’s his turn to hum down the line.

“Really? Tell me more.”

“Hmm. Well, I’m thinking of your arms flexing as you fold. Thick, careful fingers. The look on your face when you concentrate. Then, of course, it’s your clothes, so I’ll think of you putting them on… taking them off. See? Laundry is now sexy. It’s a talent.”

“That is impressive. What are you doing?”

“I’m prepping my fruit and veggies for the week. I got some flowers, so I’ll put them in a vase. Then maybe watch a movie.”

“Okay, that just sounds sweet.”

“Well I am sweet, Mr. Hotchner,” she says innocently, and he grins.

“Of course you are. What movie?”

“I think Bringing Up Baby. It always makes me laugh.”

“That’s Cary Grant, right?”

“Yes, I love Cary Grant—so tall, dark, handsome… I guess I have a type.”

They discuss movies some more, their favorite classics, her favorite actors. The night is winding down, though, and he has more work to do.

“Are you going to run tomorrow?” he asks when it’s clear the conversation will be ending soon.

“I think you wore me out today, so probably just some yoga in the park. You could come with me; have you ever done yoga?”

“No, but I’d be happy to try. What time?”

“Let’s say 8? I’ll send you the address to the park I like, and then I can treat you to breakfast at my spot.”

“Oh, so it’s a date, then,” he says, leading, and she laughs softly.

“Yes, it’s a date. I have a mat you can use, so just bring yourself and some water and I’ll take care of the rest.” “So this is called Cat Pose - just think Halloween cartoon cat,” Sophie explains the following morning, from her hands and knees, rounding her back so she looks just like the image she mentioned. “When you alternate with Cow Pose, it’s the best stretch, like waking up late on a Sunday morning and stretching in the sun coming through the curtains.”

It’s a great thought, makes him imagine Sophie sprawled across his bed, brown skin, dark hair, soft lips, smooth legs…

“Aaron?” He blinks at the sound of his name, turns to face her, and she’s smiling softly. “Thought I lost you for a sec. Next is Downward Facing Dog, so straighten your knees and send your butt up to the sky.” He watches as she does it, legs looking long and lean and strong, and he tries to replicate it as best as he can. “You’re doing really good for a beginner. This pose in particular usually sucks for a while.” She comes out of her pose, stands in front of him and presses her hands to his back. “Flat back, if you can, or bend your knees a little; I’m not trying to get sexy, I swear.” He laughs indulgently, and she steps back onto her mat with a grin.

They shift into some standing poses after a moment, Sophie checking in on him with a soft expression, and he is feeling it in his muscles by the time they drop into Plank.

“Almost done. Is it harder than you thought?” she asks, looking absolutely effortless as she supports herself on her hands, and he has to huff a laugh.

“It is, actually,” he admits, his arms quaking a bit. “People who do yoga have my utmost respect.” She lifts one arm, wraps it around her back, and she’s got to be just showing off now. She’s barely sweating.

“Yeah it takes more strength than people usually think. It’s not just all about being bendy and zen. Lower down slowly, no belly flop. Then turn onto your back, arms and legs out—this is the best part.” She closes her eyes, sighs deeply, and he can see how this would be her favorite. His entire body is sore, and before today he would have considered himself in good shape.

They rest and breathe, and when she finally sits up for a swig of water, he does the same. “You thought I wore you out yesterday? I won’t have trouble sleeping for a week,” he teases, and she bites her lip, smiles.

“Good. Maybe I can talk you into this more often. It’s fun.” He nods, panting a little from guzzling his water.

“Fun for you to make an old man suffer, that is.” She swats at his arm, and she stands, offering him a hand and helping him to his feet; they roll up the mats, take them back to her car, and head down the block to her café of choice.

It’s definitely a little more upscale than his diner, but still comfortable—they aren’t out of place in their activewear, and the woman seating them greets Sophie by name.

“So they can absolutely make you a western omelette,” Sophie says when they open their menus, “but if you trust me, I can make a suggestion.”

“I’ll take your suggestion. Let’s see how well you know me,” he offers as a challenge, and she smiles, something adorable that scrunches her nose.

“Oh, it’s a deal. You’ll love your breakfast so much you’ll weep, Aaron, I promise you.” She scans the menu again, and by the time the server comes around to take their orders, she confidently names dishes he didn’t even bother to look at. He wants to be surprised.

She gets a breakfast quesadilla for herself, which he steals a bite of, and the dish she ordered for him is a mess of potatoes and ham and eggs and cheese and veggies that he polishes off so quickly it’s almost embarrassing.

Then there are carrot cake pancakes to share, so sweet they’re almost dessert, and when she offers him the last piece she presents it on her fork, looks him over seriously when he leans in and takes the bite. It’s been all fun and easy laughter all morning, but he’s suddenly warm in a way that has nothing to do with the exercise and everything to do with the company, and he thinks she feels it too.

She pays, tips very well, and they hold hands when they walk back to the park; she leans in, presses her nose to his shoulder, and sighs when they’re about halfway there.

“I could get used to this,” she murmurs, and he looks down into her warm brown eyes and nods his agreement.

“So could I. Maybe we could make it a thing,” he offers, and her returning smile is brilliant.

“Yeah, I would like that.” They get to her car, and he crowds her up against it, kisses her deeply; she licks her bottom lip when they pull apart, and it’s gorgeous, feels a little indulgent for the park.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our dates this weekend, I would like to take you somewhere in the evening, this week, if we can.” He knows it’s old fashioned, but he wants her to know he’s serious about them, and he feels like drinks or dinner set the tone he’s looking for. She nods her head.

“Sure, okay. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.” They kiss again, a little sweeter, this time, since there are families present, and when he steps away from her, she looks a little dazed. “Just remember, you promised me handsy, and if you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to deliver.” He smirks a bit.

“Message received.” His next kiss is just a light, barely there brush of lips, and she smiles when it breaks. “Call me later, if you want. I’ll just be doing work.”

“Okay. Thanks for doing yoga with me,” she murmurs, and he touches her chin.

“Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” she repeats, and she turns around to open her car door, forgets that it’s locked. She bows her head like she’s embarrassed, but he can only laugh. She is so god damn adorable. They see each other again on Tuesday night.

AH: Done kind of early today. Was thinking about going to get a drink.

SC: A drink sounds nice. Do you want company?

AH: When it’s you? Always.

AH: Can we go to your friend's bar?

SC: Of course. There’s open mic tonight, if that’s what you’re getting at.

AH: That’s what I’m getting at.

SC: 717 Carson St, 7:30? - it looks shady, but it’s not, I promise.

AH: A glowing review.

SC: 😋

“You look so good,” is the first thing out of her mouth when he approaches her table, and it makes him laugh, duck his head. She is always so quick to dish out compliments, and while he’s not used to thinking of himself as attractive, hasn’t had a reason to in a while, it does make him feel good.

“Uh, thank you,” he says, trying not to be awkward about it. “You look beautiful, as always.” She does, too, so gorgeous in a tight white sweater and tighter back jeans—she’s too gorgeous for him by far, but he’s certainly not complaining.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and she stretches up on her toes to kiss him softly on the mouth; he thinks the chances of anyone they know coming to this shady looking bar called Lloyd’s, unprompted, are pretty slim to none, so he encourages her kisses. “Mmm. Do you want to come up to the bar with me? My friend Ben is working, I wanted to introduce you to him.”

“Sure, of course.” She takes his hand, and they each order a beer, and he is introduced to Ben, the bartender, Monty, the guitar player, and Racquel, the manager, all of whom are very kind and appear pleased to meet him; apparently, Sophie has mentioned him once or twice. It’s so endearing.

They sit down, talk a little, order another round of beers, and when it’s Sophie’s turn to sing, she sighs lightly, shoots him a shy smile.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” she says, pressing her lips to his, and she heads up to the stage.

“Give it up for Lloyd’s favorite rock balladeer, Sophie Cortes!” That seems, to Aaron, much more official than just blowing off some steam, and he’s prepared to find out that she severely underestimated her talent; what he’s not prepared for, however, is how incredibly beautiful she looks and sounds when she sings a slow, romantic Bon Jovi song, earning applause from a group of regulars who are clearly familiar with her singing.

She waves at them, blushing a little, and when she comes back to him, he pulls her close for a tender kiss.

“You are amazing. What are you doing at the FBI? You should be selling out stadiums, or something.” She laughs.

“I don’t know about that, Aaron, but thank you. It’s something I love to do, but it’s not a career.” They sit, but he scoots his chair closer to her than before. “You know how it is when you’re a kid; people tell you you can be anything you want to be when you grow up, and then you grow up, and things change. But I’ll always have Lloyd’s, so… it works.” He takes her face in his hands and kisses her again; her fingers brush over the back of this head, and she hums against his lips.

“Can’t believe I’m dating someone who’s practically famous,” he teases when they separate, and she rolls her eyes, blushes.

“Enough, or I’ll make Monty give you his guitar so we can see what you can do.”

“Okay, point taken,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender, and they laugh and talk for a while, until they both remember it’s a work night and they need to head out.

“Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car,” he says, hand on her back, and she gestures down the street.

“I’m only two blocks away, I walked.” She must see surprise and discomfort in his eyes, because she takes his other hand. “If anyone tries to mess with me, you know they’ll regret it. I'll be fine.”

“I know, but still. I’d feel better if you let me drive you.”

“Well, I’ll never turn you down,” she says sweetly, pulling him down for a kiss, and he gets her into the car, closes the door for her. In a couple of minutes, they are parked in front of her large brown stone building, and they both unbuckle their seat belts, turn to face each other.

“I like Lloyd’s,” he tells her while they sit companionably; it’s clear neither is ready for the night to end. “Everyone is so nice; it definitely feels like a place you’d go.

“Thank you, I think,” she says with a playful smile. He smiles too, feeling great after such a good date, and he leans over for a kiss. Sophie lengthens it, brushing fingers through his hair, and her eyes have that dreamy quality again when they break apart. “Mmm. Can I come over there?” She sets a hand gently on his thigh, and he nods, pushes back his seat to give her more room.

She settles comfortably in his lap, hands on his shoulders, and he brings her to him for a long, steamy kiss. They make out for several minutes, get handsy, as she mentioned before, before she pulls back with a soft sigh. “Can I tell you something?” she asks, pressing her forehead against his.

“Anything. Always.”

“I’ve thought about this—making out in your car—quite a few times. The first time was the night we went out for my birthday.”

“I really enjoyed myself that night.”

“Me too. I was so happy you came out, and stayed out. And when I told you I loved you, there was so much left unsaid… I hoped you knew.” He smooths his hand over her cheek, his thumb over her bottom lip, and she shivers. “Then you took me home, and you helped me with my shoes, and when you kissed me on my head, I thought: maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way I do. And then we never mentioned it, and nothing ever happened, so I thought maybe I was imagining everything.”

“You weren’t imagining anything. I felt it too.”

“Good,” she murmurs, taking his face in her hands, and they kiss hot, slow. “I think you’re so incredible.”

“I think you’re incredible, too.” He smooths his hands up her back, pressing her closer, and she rolls her hips slowly against him, earning a groan. “Sophie,” he sighs, clutching her. She feels so good, smells so good, it’s almost intoxicating.

“I know,” she breathes, and she looks up at him, eyes serious, chest heaving. “Do you want to come up with me?” He is about to answer with an emphatic yes when someone knocks hard on the window; Sophie starts, bumps her head, and he rubs it with his hand, rolls down the window.

It’s a police officer, because of course it is, and they both wince. He is young, a little cocky, Aaron can tell just by looking at him. Great.

“Good evening. I’d ask what you folks are doing out here, but I think it’s a bit obvious,” he drawls, looking slowly over Sophie’s body where she sits in his lap. “Hiding from your wife, or…?”

“No, sir, we are not,” she answers, clearly a little perturbed but keeping her cool. “We were just about to go inside.”

“That’s good; we like to discourage lewd behavior on our streets, which I’m sure you can understand.” Aaron bristles at that himself.

“Lewd behavior? With all due respect, we were only kissing, and we were about to go inside, like she said. Are you going to attempt to cite us for this?” The officer looks them over thoughtfully, takes out his flashlight.

“Let’s start with some identification.” Sophie sighs, makes to climb off his lap, but he stops her with a hand on her hip.

The situation is uncomfortable enough, but if she vacates his lap… it will only become more awkward for everyone. She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh, slides her driver’s license out of her pocket and hands it to the officer.

“Can she get in the glove box for mine?” he asks, trying to remain respectful even though he instantly hates this man. He nods, and Sophie reaches over, opens the glove box, and pulls out his FBI credentials. She flips it open in front of his flashlight, and he blanches, steps back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t—I wasn’t.” He looks up, nervous. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening, sir.”

“You were just doing your job,” Aaron says gently, despite the fact that this is just, so embarrassing. “Are we going to be cited?” To his credit, the kid looks like he’s going to wet his pants. It’s a little funny.

“No, sir, of course not. I—thank you for your cooperation. You two enjoy the rest of your night.” He all but runs back to his squad car, and when he drives away, Aaron and Sophie both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” she says through fits of giggles, and she leans against him for a hug. “This has to be the worst date you’ve ever been on, right?” He exhales, shakes his head in amusement.

“No. I’d take what just happened a thousand times over if I could relive the rest of tonight.” Her face softens, and she presses her lips softly against his, squeezes his shoulder.

“You are some type of man,” she says when she pulls back, and she looks him over like she wants to devour him. His lap situation had subsided, but apparently not for long. “I think we should probably just call it a night, don’t you?” she asks gently. “I’m thinking we should take that unmistakable sign for what it is.” He nods, because even though the prospect of going upstairs is a very sweet one, the decision may have been a little premature.

“I agree; but just know, more than anything, that I don’t want this evening to end.”

“I know, me neither. But we do have work in the morning; you can call me tomorrow night, though, if you want. I would really like that.”

“It’s a date,” he teases, and they kiss softly a couple of times before she slides back into the passenger’s seat, heads out the door.

He exhales deeply when she’s out of his sight.

#aaron hotchner/original female character #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

38 notes · View notes