#new multi-chap

[bitchin-beskar]

the taste of scotch and cigars - chapter one

Rating: M

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating trope, propositioning a stranger in a bar, drinking/mentions of being tipsy (minor), intense makeout in public, hints of exhibition kink, hints of voice kink, absolutely fucking douchebag of an ex, mentions of cheating, I think that's it for this chapter? Most of these will be expanded the further into the story we get, and more warnings will come hehe.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: this is one of the au ideas I've ranted to @catsnkooks about (there are many) and I wanted to schedule the first chapter drop during my vacay because it's been sitting in my wip folder and I wanna get opinions to see if people like this idea/wanna see more. (I mean, I'm gonna post it regardless but I still wanna see if people are into the idea). anyways, enjoy this fun spin on a fake dating trope :)

The burn of cheap vodka as it slid down your throat did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Coming here was a mistake. You should’ve let sleeping dogs lie, let your past stay where it belongs. Instead, you’re submerged in old memories and familiar hurts, the waters of time washing over your head and threatening to drown you in melancholy and diffidence.

The noise of the packed pub pressed in from all sides, buffeting you and keeping you off balance, loud enough that you were barely able to hear yourself think. You’d managed to avoid interactions thus far, but the likelyhood of that dwindled with every second you lingered, waiting for…

Well.

God only knows what you were waiting for.

Draining the last dregs of your drink, the thunk of your empty glass on the wooden bar as you sat it down made you frown and debate waving over the bartender for another refill. You thought for a long moment, before you decided otherwise. If you were going to be interacting with others tonight, you’d prefer to have at least some of your wits about you, and the vodka you’d consumed was enough to take the edge of your sorrow off. Any more though, and you couldn’t be held responsible for what might happen.

You turned around in your seat, scanning the crowd. In the back corner of the pub, you saw them for the first time that night since you’d walked in. The group seemed to be concentrated in the back, thankfully. You’d done a perfunctory greeting with the hosts of this little reunion, and then beelined for the bar and had been sat there since. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure why you even came.

Unfortunately, right as you were looking over at the group, you made eye contact with Christian, the one person you’d been hoping to avoid. He’d been looking in your direction, and when he saw you, he smirked and stood up, beginning to try and make his way through the crowd.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you spun around again on your stool, regretting not having ordered another drink. “God fucking dammit.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you began to wonder if it was possible for you to make a quick escape in the crowd, when your panic was interrupted by a deep and deceptively smooth British-accented voice to your right.

“Everythin’ alright, love?”

Turning your head, you made eye contact with the older man sitting next to you at the bar, and immediately your mouth went dry. How had you not noticed him yet?

He was absolutely gorgeous, with clear, intelligent blue eyes and thick dark brown hair that you wanted to run your fingers through. His cheeks and upper lip were covered in that same dark brown hair, shaved into mutton chops with stubble on his lower lip and chin. He was dressed in a light blue henley that clung to his torso, a hint of a ball chain disappering into the vee of the neckline, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and showing off his forearms. One hand was wrapped around a glass of scotch, and dangling from the fingers of his other hand was a lit Maduro cigar. He had on dark, well worn blue jeans that were moulded to his thighs, and black, slightly scuffed up combat boots.

He looked like the kind of man you’d spent many a shameful night fantasizing about back in high school, fingers ducking below the waistband of your sleep shorts as you clasped a hand over your mouth lest you wake your parents sleeping down the hall.

Those bright blue eyes were focused on yours, and you felt your cheeks heat under his surprisingly intense yet soft gaze. Something deep inside of you, fueled by the vodka, whispered that this was the kind of man you could trust, the kind of man who maybe, possibly would be willing to help a perfect stranger out of nothing but the kindness of his heart.

Maybe it was the alcohol, and you were drunker than you thought. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you, this gorgeous, dangerous man who managed to pierce you with such soft, kind eyes. Whatever it was, you lost control over your brain-to-mouth filter, and words began to spill forth.

“My ex is here, he just saw me and is coming this way, and it’s been years since I last saw him, and… god, I don’t have the strength to deal with him tonight, he never fucking takes no for an answer, would you be willing– I mean if it’s not too much trouble, and I could pay you back, but could I ask you–”

You managed to reboot your brain, but not quite fast enough to stop the spew of words from escaping you, and physically biting your own tongue was the only way to prevent you from making an even bigger fool of yourself. Immediately you averted your eyes, tearing yourself away from his piercing gaze as you shrunk in your seat, dread and shame roiling in the pit of your stomach and mixing with the alcohol to make you feel sick.

Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck were you thinking? He just asked if you were alright, he didn’t ask to have your entire life story dumped on him at the drop of a hat. He had to be at least ten years older than you, if not more, you were likely barely more than a silly little girl in his eyes. Shit, he’s probably got a stunning wife and gorgeous kids at home, and here you are, practically propositioning the poor man. Your mama always said you were a no-good, simple-minded child, and here you are, not even ten years outta her house and proving her right once again.

So lost in your self ruminations, you don’t notice the pensive look on the handsome stranger’s face, until suddenly there’s an arm wrapped securely around your waist and you’re being tugged off your barstool and onto a thickly muscled thigh, leaning against against the warm length of a heavily muscled torso. You somehow manage to not leap out of your skin in surprise, even when you feel the brush of his lips against the outer shell of your ear, his voice a low growl, gravel grinding against pavement.

“I’m more’n willing to help a pretty lil’ girl like you, love. No debt necessary. ‘Sides, a man who doesn’ understand the word no? Princess, that ain’t a man at all.”

Dreaming. You’ve gotta be stuck in some kind of alcohol intoxication induced fever dream, because there’s no fucking way that this is your life right now. Shit like this doesn’t happen outside of cheesy romcoms and trashy dime store novels. Let alone at random pubs in fucking Liverpool.

You’re not given the time to delve more into the ramifications of dreams induced by too much imbibed alcohol because your ears are abruptly assaulted by a reedy, nasally voice that you wished you could forget, but was burned into so many of your adolescent memories.

“Sweetcheeks! Goodness, it’s been awhile! You know, I wasn’t sure I’d see you here, we were all pretty surprised you showed up.”

The stanger-who’s lap you were perched-on turned at the interruption, his hand sliding from your hip across your belly, palm hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. He hooked his finger in your belt loop, fingers pressing reassuringly into the meat of your hip as his forearm felt like a bar of iron against your abdomen. The positioning was oddly possessive, like it meant more than him making sure you didn’t tip off his thigh and onto the dingy floor of the pub. His glass of scotch was abandoned on the bar, the arm not holding you streched out on the wood, cigar dangling from his fingers. You turned your head to look at the last person in the world you wanted to see, although you were distracted slightly from your ire by the slow drag of lips along the length of your jaw, the bristles on your stranger’s beard tickling the sensitive skin. It was an act that was surprisingly soothing as it was intimate.

Schooling your features, you looked at the face of the man who’d held your entire heart in his hands and shattered it on the ground without a second thought. Half a decade hadn’t dulled the pain, although you did a remarkable job at covering it up.

“Christian. Wish I could say it’s a pleasure.”

He pouted, an altogether unattractive look, although years ago it had been one to tug at your heartstrings. “Awe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, at least a little bit?”

You fixed him with a glare, even as fury began to burn low in your belly. “Why exactly would I be missing you, Christian?”

He rolled his eyes, as though the answer was exceedingly obvious, and he thought you dumb for even having to ask. “Awe, babes, you’re not still hung up about that little incident, are you? Even your momma thinks you’re overreacting, sweetcheeks.”

You cocked an eyebrow, even as you subconsciously sank further into your stranger’s embrace, his hold on you soothing and helping to keep you grounded. The admission that he still talked to your momma stung more than it should have, but then, she’d been heartbroken when you divorced who, in her eyes, was the most perfect embodiement of a son-in-law to ever grace God’s green earth. Figures she’d refuse to cut contact with him, even though you had.

“Hung up? Little incident? I came home to find you fucking Paisleigh, my best friend, in our fucking bed. And then I find out it wasn’t just the once, but practically every single week of our relationship, with about three dozen different girls over the years. I would say I have every right to still be pissed at you, Christian.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault, is it? Men have needs, babes. I was just doing what I needed to, since you certainly weren’t fullfilling ‘em. You hardly needed to move halfway across the world cause you got a lil’ upset about it.”

It took every shred of self control you had to refrain from launching yourself off of your stranger’s lap–and dear sweet god, you’re just now realizing you don’t actually know his fucking name–and strangling the idiot in front of you. Honestly though, it was probably less about your self control and more about the way his arm tightened around you, his fingers hooking tighter around your belt loop. He brought his other hand up to take a slow drag off his cigar, the richly sweet smoke curling around your body as he exhaled, his chest pressed comfortingly against your back. He let his hand drop, resting it on top of your thigh, fingers carefully keeping the cigar away from the fabric of your pants.

You felt the movement of his head as he gave Christian a look, glancing up and down before scoffing darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He only held you tighter, even as he opened his mouth, and the rich smoke of his voice filled your ears, deep and dripping honey, sending sparks straight to the fire in your gut.

“You’re no man. You’re barely more ‘n a immature little boy, a waste o’ space n’ air. If you’re not willin’ to stay faithful, then ya shouldn’t be in a relationship. If you weren’t satisfied, it certainly wasn’t somethin’ she was doin’ wrong.” He punctuated his words with a kiss to your temple, and dammit if it didn’t make you wanna melt into a puddle on the floor.

Christian puffed up, looking extremely offended, albeit ridiculous considering he was skinnier than a stick. “Do you have any idea who I am, old man?”

You’re trying very hard not to panic, because you didn’t have time to tell your stranger anything before this conversation, but you shouldn’t have worried, because he simply replied with a shrug of his shoulders, and a short, clipped, “Nah, should I?”

Dammit, you thought, trying to hold back a laugh. You didn’t know he was funny too.

If anything, that only pissed Christian off more. “Sweetcheeks, you didn’t tell your little friend here about your husband?”

“Ex-husband,” you hissed, eyes narrowing and body tensing at the way Christian spoke, all amusement draining from you at the sound of him acting so damn dismissive, it made you wanna claw his eyes out.

“Shh, is alrigh’, love,” your stranger whispered in your ear, and to your surprise, the tension bled back out of your limbs, the low timbre of his growl soothing the fury boiling inside you. Unfortunately, Christian rudely interrupted.

“And just who are you supposed to be?”

Your stranger chuckled, the vibrations rumbling pleasantly against your back. “Nah, I’m nobody special. Jus’ the one who took advantage of your colossal fuck up and married the sweet thing you let get away, ain’t tha’ right, love?”

It took every ounce of control you had to stop the surprise from showing on your face at his declaration. This was so far beyond anything you could’ve ever hoped for, you didn’t quite know how to handle it. There’d been no hesitation on his part, no awkward pauses or stuttering. Just a steady declaration that he was apparently your (fake, fake you reminded your brain) husband.

Christian’s cheeks were turning a ruddy color, nearly incandescent with rage. You should’ve realized that this little charade was gonna push him too far, especially when he bared his teeth and snarled.

“I pity you, sweetcheeks, you’re such an obvious charity case I should’ve known. No way is another man willing to settle down with you, especially considering the fact that you’re used, broken goods. Did’ja tell him that, before you trapped him, babes?” He growled, spittle flying. “Quieter than a doormouse in bed, she doesn’t even know how to properly pleasure a man, else I wouldn’ta needed to find someone else, isn’t that right?”

Ok, that was it. You were going to deck Christian here and now. You were done letting him have all the power, letting him walk all over you like he had for the entirety of your relationship. Just as you placed your hands on the forearm around your waist to push it off you so you could fight your fucking ex, a firm hand on your jaw distracted you, turning your face to the side and tilting it up, then slightly chapped lips were covering yours.

Oh.

Your eyes fluttered shut as calloused fingers smoothed over your jaw, cupping your face as your gorgeous, dangerous-looking stranger slowly pried your lips open and plunged his tongue into your mouth, stroking the length of it alongside your own tongue. You followed his lead, opening up beautifully beneath him, letting him kiss you deeper as he plundered your mouth, growing more heated, more passionate with every brush of his lips against yours. His beard scratched gently at the sensitive skin around your mouth, but beard-burn was quite literally the last thing on your mind. The entire world faded away, until it was just you and your stranger, and the deep, possessive way he kissed you.

He claimed you with his mouth, there was no better way to describe it. He drew back slightly, only so he could bite at your lower lip, teeth pulling at the darkened skin and making you let out a surprised moan before he dove back in, open mouthed and messy. He sucked on your tongue, making you whimper softly, which only spurned him on even more. His fingers tightned on your jaw, keeping you steady against his onslaught, stealing kiss after kiss. He stole the very breath from your lungs, every time you pulled back to gasp for breath he simply chased you, greedily depriving you of precious oxygen.

He tasted like scotch and cigars, the smooth burn and sharp bite of sweet smoke mixing to create something so uniquely him that you honestly couldn’t imagine him tasting like anything else. You wondered if he tasted the vodka on your tongue, or the coconut of the lip balm on your lips. Whatever your taste, he couldn’t seem to get enough.

A loud cough broke the bubble you’d found yourself enveloped in as he kissed you, but even still, he didn’t let you jerk away, pressing one, two, three kisses in quick succession against your swollen and tender lips, glossy and slick with spit.

Your eyes slowly opened, finding him already staring at you, his pupils blown wide, inky black surrounded by a pale, thin ring of blue. His fingers stroked the skin of your cheek, almost reverent as his gaze flickered between your own wide eyes and your ravaged mouth.

Incoherrent sputtering drew your attention away from the man who’d just kissed you–a fucking stranger–like you were the only two people to exisit in the world and not just at a pub in the middle of Liverpool, and you slowly slid your eyes from his to look at Christian.

You had to fight the urge not to laugh. Christian somehow managed to look equal parts dumbfounded and embarrassed as hell. Considering the way you’d just been kissed felt like it had to break some kind of public indecency law, you weren’t too surprised at the mix of emotions on his face, although they were quickly giving way to anger once again.

He didn’t get to interject, however, as your stranger spoke, his voice barely more than a growl. “If you’d been any good in bed, then maybe you’d have some kinda idea about all the pretty sounds my wife can make, but somethin’ tells me you weren’ ever enough to earn those, and like hell am I ‘bout to let you learn how she sounds when she makes ‘em now.”

Abruptly, he stood, easily hoisting you off his lap to stand on the ground, although his arm stayed secure around you and not letting you take even one step away from him.

“Hol’ this for me, love?”

He handed you his cigar, before digging in his back pocket to pull out a wad of cash, throwing it on the bar and making a quick gesture at the bartender to indicate that he was closing your tabs.

He turned back towards your ex, making eye contact even as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand up to his mouth so he could take a drag from his cigar still gripped between your fingers, breathing in deeply before exhaling, chuckling at the disgusted look on Christian’s face.

“My wife ‘n I are leavin now, cause I’ve been deployed too damn long and I don’ feel like wastin’ another second with bloody pricks who mattered so little in her life that she doesn’ even mention you.”

With that, and a gentle nudge, your stranger began to steer you out of the pub, sliding his arm from where it was still wrapped around you, instead slipping his hand into the back pocket on your jeans, cupping your ass and giving your ex a little show, and causing your heartbeat to race. The cool air hitting your face as you stepped out onto the streets of Liverpool felt like being reborn, as you felt the tension that had been gathering all of the last few weekes in preparation for today just… fade away.

The two of you walked a bit away from the door to the pub before your stranger slid his hand out from your back pocket, leaving you immediately missing the security and warmth he’d provided, even with just that little touch. You turned to look at him, silently offering his cigar back, which he took, but just let it dangle from his fingers. His expression was sheepish, and he rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. It was endearing, and you found yourself having to violently squash the part of you that said to just go for it and kiss him again, just to see if he’d still react the same way without an audience.

“I do apologize, ma’am,” he offered, and you blinked, thrown a bit. Why on earth was he apologizing to you? Shouldn’t you be the one apologizing, for even asking a total stranger a favor like that in the first place?

“I might’a taken things a bit far back there, but no one should be talkin’ to ya like that, love. It don’ matter who they were or what they used’ta mean to ya.”

To your horror, you felt your eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. You were so used to being the one blamed for the failure of your relationship, being the one told that you must’ve done something wrong to force a man like Christian to seek someone outside of your marriage, that to have someone tell you that it wasn’t ok for you to be treated that way was like a balm on an old wound you didn’t realize had ripped back open.

You had no idea how to respond to what he’d said, and at a complete loss for words, you blurted out the first thing to come to your mind.

“I don’t even know your name?”

His laugh was deep and warm, and you desperately wanted to take it inside you and hold it’s comfort there for the rest of your life. He smiled at you, eyes twinkling, and held his free hand out.

“Captain John Price, British SAS, at your service, love.”

You took a deep breath even as you placed your hand in his, trying not to show how the sound of his title falling from his lips sent a heady rush of arousal through you. You’d thought he might’ve been military, and the confirmation was doing unspeakable things to you.

“I-, uh, sir-” you started, only to be cut off as he brought your fingers up to his lips, brushing them across the backs of your knuckles and making your knees go weak with the look he leveled you with.

“Love, not to be crass, but I’ve had my tongue down your throat and my hand on your arse. I think you can call me John.”

[anachilles]

firehouse!au 🚒🥃 reached 500 kudos 😭

thank u all so much for reading!!!

[theangelcatalogue]

❝ You can't see me behind the screen! ❞ ― ABOUT THE BLOG

❝ I'm half human and half machine! ❞

Hello, I see you found my post! Keep scrolling, or read it! It's your choice!

Ah! You decided to read it! Welcome to my blog!

About the mythic bitch(Aka me, the owner, Heathers reference) :

Name/Nicknames: Abbey, Sky, Richie, Duke, i have too many nicknames! You can see me more at my about me post, this part is just a resume!

Age: 14 years old! Yes, i'm a minor <3

Pronouns: Any!

Location: Brazil!

What i don't write for/What you won't find here:

Homophobic content, Transphobic content, Xenophobic content, Islamophobic content, etc.

Misogynistic content

Racist content, sexist content, ableist content, discrimination content, etc.

Content that invalidates a character's pronouns, gender or identity!

Pedophile, Sexualizes Minors, Yandere x child Y/N(unless is Platonic!), Jokes About R×pe, etc.

Comship, Darkship, Proship, etc.

Nsfw/Smut, i'm not really into it, sorry!

Yandere Y/N, sorry Yandere Y/N lovers!

What I Write:

Yandere fanfiction! This is a blog only for yandere x reader content, so no Yandere Reader or Yandere character X Yandere character!

Headcanons, Oneshots, Love Letters, Imagines, Multi chapter fanfics and many other! Just request and i will try my best! :D

Team ups, poly or rivals? Why not! (I personally love writing Team ups or Yandere Vs Yandere is so ksosoakkskaoap)

Romantic and Platonic! Maybe even both! Exemple: Yandere team up with one being romantic and other being platonic

My fandom list/masterlist is here! But i also write for my ocs! ^^

What to expect here:

Not so regular updates, and things made by a bored teenager

Musicals

Writing prompts and a bunch of weird ideas

Musicals

Me saying random shit

Musicals

Reblogs of things i like

Musical- Wait i already said that, didn't i?

Others:

Feel free to send me asks, vents, ideas messages, requests, etc! My askbox is open! Don't be shy angel! <33 (Say the one that is scared to even breath wrong near people)

If you don't like me content, it's okay! You can unfollow anytime! Or just ignore my blog! Tumblr it's a huge place with many blogs, i promise that you will find one with things you love!

Thanks for reading! Your lucky number is 7. You will soar to great heights. Be sure to ride The Cyclone! Wait- Wrong musical- Anyways!

I hope you enjoy my content!

[ghostoffuturespast]

It's been really nice writing again without feeling like there's a fucking fire under my ass the entire time.

[spiteless-xo]

k so i've been working on this jean fic for months and it just wasn't working out but i liked the premise so i decided to switch it to a different character and now

all the pieces!!! are falling into place!!! everything connects so much better!!!!! it's like the chapters are writing themselves istg

[thebrandywine]

I'm genuinely so excited for nivannedy week. I keep thinking about it skdhdjhd

[slightlyobsessedwithstories]

Last fic with Pal and the seasons are complete.

[secret-engima]

*lies on the floor staring into space*

what if i did a rewrite of rwby starting from v1.

not a time travel, not a “character is different in x way” au but like

ground level want of a nail fixit.

start ittttyyyy bittty in on the changes in v1 and then just keep building the jingo tower and see how far it goes until I go full throttle au.

[cheeryknots]

i swear guys i’m coming back soon i just have to finish getting my shit together :,)

[poppysixx]

Rain, chapter Twelve.

Thank you so, so much for reading. Every hit, share, and engagement means more to me than I can ever express

I hope you continue to follow their story. Thank you.

[saltyr3mix]

New chapter just dropped!!

Shattered dreams chapter cause i haven't updated this fic in two months.

Yeah this chapter is Star/Lewis centric. But also has Ribbon angst because i said so. were finally getting into some of the behind the scenes stuff before we jump into the fix it arc. hopefully.

[kermit-coded]

All My Role Models Are On TV For The Wrong Reasons (1539 words) by pop_and_lock Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Bart Allen & Max Mercury, Bart Allen & Everyone, Bart Allen & Helen Claiborne, Bart Allen/White Lightning (DCU) Characters: Bart Allen, Max Mercury, Helen Claiborne, Jesse Chambers, Jay Garrick, Wally West, Linda Park, White Lightning (DCU), Dinah Lance Additional Tags: Protective Wally West, Protective Flash Family, Max Mercury is Bart Allen's Parent, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Nothing happens onscreen, Creepy White Lightning, Rape Recovery, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Wally West is The Flash, Bart Allen is Impulse, Bart Allen-centric, Bart Allen Needs A Hug, Bart Allen Has ADHD, takes place pre-yj98, wally west's canonical anger issues, Protective Max Mercury, Revenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Therapist Dinah Lance, Therapy, guest appearances by the rest of the justice league as well, BAMF Linda Park, Past Domestic Violence, Parental Helen Claiborne, Dissociation, Trauma, Title from an AJR Song Summary: White Lightning takes it too far with Bart. Luckily, his family is there to help him get back on his feet.

[poppy5991]

I said, “I’m gonna work on some short fanfics now that Auster is complete and only focus on the original fiction that we are seeing progress on.”

Guys, I wrote so much over the past week on a bunch of different projects but not enough on any singular one to be ready for posting.

Damn.

[voids-call]

I may have started another multi-chapter fic...

Link here!

Fandom: TADC

Wc: 1.6k

Summary: Quip has arrived in the Digital Circus. Stupid crap goes on.

Chapter Summary: He's here! He also... has no idea what's going on?

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi! I just had this sudden idea and I have to ask you!

For the ice queen/tyrant au!

Thena asks Gil what and how exactly the assasination happened and if he can remember anything. While Gil summarizes what he can remember Thena listens quietly without interrupting him. When he finishes Thena says nothing a while and Gil gets worried but before he can say anything she softly takes his hand with the ring tattoo and kisses it while looking directly into his eyes, saying a lot without actually talking. Just this intimate, soft and quiet moment.

"Hey," Gil smiled as he heard the door to his hospital room slide open and shut. He was improving by the day - maybe even by the hour, at this point - and Ajak had promised his release within the week.

Thena remained silent.

Gil kept an eye on her as she came over to her chair, same as she had been. His jacket he had been brought in with was still thrown over the back of it, providing her a shawl of sorts when she was sitting in the chair (and not in bed with him, despite Ajak's complaints about that).

"Gil," she finally spoke up, pulling off her gloves and shedding her coat. She had come from work, either her office or his. "What can you tell me about what happened?"

He let his surprise show. He hadn't expected her to ask--at least not right now. She hadn't asked at first, and as time went on, he just assumed she had been briefed on things.

When she had been poisoned, he had demanded to know every detail of it.

Thena was quiet, sullen, pulling his hand in between both of hers. She looked at him, her brows pulled together and her lips pulled down at the corners, "please?"

Gil inhaled and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He had thought about it some, dreamed about it more. It was hazy, at first, but the longer he spent recovering the more of it came back to him. "I was headed home after work. The weather was nice, so I wanted to walk."

Thena's hand was already tightening around his.

"Tires screeching," Gil narrated as he sorted through his memories in real time. He had woken from a nightmare or two in his time in this room. Thena had been there for all of them, comforting him silently but resiliently, every time. "That was the first one, but when they realised they missed they got out."

"I tried running, but I guess my guard was down. The other two shots landed, and I went down hard. Part of it was the actual shots, but part of it was also figuring that maybe if they thought they got me, they'd leave. It kind of worked."

She didn't return his little smile, or his shrug.

"I laid there for a little bit before calling the office. They used the civilian line to call in an anonymous tip for an ambulance for me. I also asked them to notify Ajak and Sersi. I...I trusted they would tell you."

Thena continued to listen to him in silence, although he looked over and caught her tears dripping from her long lashes. "Hey."

She let him reach over and brush them off her cheeks. She sniffed, pressing the back of his hand to them and then clasping them together again. "Go on."

Gil sighed. He wasn't sure what she was after, or if she just wanted the full story from his own perspective. It seemed to be distressing her more than anything. But she asked, so he would answer. "I was pretty surprised when I found out it was her. Didn't think she had balls like that."

Thena frowned at him.

"Either way," Gil shrugged, not nearly as bothered by the mere concept of the Little Heiress as his Ice Queen was. "That was the last I remembered before they got the drugs in me. When I woke up...well, you were here."

He smiled, pressing his palm to her cheek. His heart skipped a happy little beat as she leaned into his touch, her expression so tender it could make him fall in love with her all over again. That was his Thena, looking at him like that.

She sighed, just looking at him, taking it all in. She let him brush his thumb against her cheek as he liked, allowing the comfort both of them. Her hands held his other one, running over his palm.

Gil automatically leaned as she pulled at his left hand faintly. He watched as she brought his hand to her lips, kissing the tattoo of his ring. His eyes locked with hers. "Thena?"

But she had no answer to his question. The kiss was its own statement, and really, it was all she had to say.

Gil nodded, running his fingers through her hair, "I know. Me too."

Thena, satisfied that he had understood what she was saying in not so many words, stood from her chair. She pulled back his covers, crawling into bed with him.

Gil made room for her, pulling the covers up over them and holding her against him. "And what happened to listening to Ajak?"

Ajak, who had told them multiple times that Gil's IVs could come out if they were all snuggled up in the tiny hospital bed together.

But Thena curled up against him, forehead pressed against his collar bone, hand over his heart as if to order it to keep beating so long as she was present.

Gil kissed the crown of that hair of hers, settling comfortably on his side so they could both fit together. "I love you, too, Thena."

She had said so much when she had kissed his hand--the ring he had imprinted into his skin to mark that he was hers inseparably. Telling him how much she loved him was just one of those many things.