#ofc geralt is last on the list because. well.

[smolalienbee]

she's everything. they're just jaskier and geralt.

[roughentumble]

ok so the premise goes like this

geralt puts some mushrooms in his stew one night, jaskier eats it, gets a horrible stomach ache, is up all night puking.

geralt didnt mean to, ofc, but he stays up all night caring for jaskier, and he's so soft and sweet and pliant and needy, he needs geralt, seeks out his love and affection, finds comfort in him. something about the mushrooms, when he vomits it smells sickly-sweet, and all night his skin is pale in the moonlight but his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are dewy, he-- he looks gorgeous.

it sortve breaks something, in geralt's brain, to be so thoroughly needed and comforting to someone so beautiful. it's... unforgivable, evil, to take advantage of jaskier like that, he knows it is. yet still, he files away what the mushroom looked like, what its side effects are, looks it up in books about herbology. too many stomach aches lead to ulcers, too much vomiting bad for the teeth and the throat, vomit too long and you get dehydrated-- but surely... just once or twice a year, well..... thats normal. that's a normal amount to be ill, perhaps.

he stays away from effects bad enough to induce vomiting. it's too extreme, too dangerous, and not the part he's looking for anyway. just enough to ache, enough to cause upset that needs to be soothed and rubbed away. for years, he keeps it up, one night each year. and jaskier curses himself, and his constitution, writhing in pain, but he bares his stomach to geralt willingly, and it nearly makes geralt dizzy, because jaskier TRUSTS him. geralt reaches a hand down, rubbing and soothing the cramped, aching muscles, and jaskier relaxes at his touch, looks at him and doesnt see a threat, sees a protector. and not just a protector, but a comfort. he gets a look in his eye, sometimes, that geralt cant identify. but then he curls a little closer, and geralt pets his hair in comfort, and his shoulders ease as the last bits of pain and tension melt away. geralt cant ask about it without revealing the game, so he doesnt.

eventually, he invites jaskier to kaer morhen, and moves over to the Event happening exclusively within castle walls. it's safest there, after all, and there's always a warm bed for jaskier to get cuddled in. jaskier's comfort in his discomfort is key. he doesnt have to worry about his fellow witchers finding out either, because jaskier blames his constitution at this point, and geralt (and therefore the other witchers) are able to eat the mushrooms with no ill effect. it seems perfect.

jaskier finds out, eventually. up in kaer morhen, safe for the season but also stuck, trapped together. (there hadnt been opportunities that year to subtly slip anything into the food when geralt was on cooking duty. they were coming up on spring, running out of time, so instead of just waiting, geralt decides to reheat some leftover soup in their room, in the fireplace, use the excuse of a midnight snack of sorts. jaskier sees him slipping in the mushrooms, and somehow, after all these years, recognizes it. it feels like there's a lead weight in geralt's stomach as jaskier puts the pieces together, eyes wide with rage and horror. "every year-- every year i get sick." he says, like everything suddenly makes sense-- probably because it does.) incandescent with fury, he demands to know why geralt would poison him. geralt isnt forthcoming with excuses, but when he's pushed he breaks down, says its inexcusable, says he knows what he did was bad(to say the least), but that he did it because jaskier needed him. he was beautiful and sweet and needed him. "i wanted to-- to hold you. to comfort you. in the sickest, most twisted way possible, i- i wanted to... i dont know... nurse you back to health."

jaskier's hands are shaking. "you-- you... what, wanted me to... to get better? be ill so you could fix me?" geralt shrugs. his eyes are trained on the floor. he's crossed so many lines he doesnt know where to even begin listing them, knows they'll part ways in the spring and never see each other again, is about to promise to stay as far away as he can while theyre trapped in the keep, when--

jaskier, after pacing back and forth endlessly, fury slowly melting away to some sort of grim resolve, sits down in front of the hearth, and pours himself a bowl. geralt shouts, to stop him, but jaskier tells him to shut up, and he does. jaskier starts the bowl, then finishes it. asks if another bowl would be safe, and geralt quietly responds that yes, its safe, he'll just be sore for longer, and he nods(apparently satisfied) and pours himself a half-bowl, finishes that too. geralt is too mystified to speak up for a long while, until he finally asks "you arent... mad?"

"oh i am." jaskier assures him. gets up, walks across the room, sets himself down in geralt's lap. but not sexy, exactly-- he sits sideways, curls his knees up to his chest to snuggle in close. "extremely mad. you're going to have to do a lot to make it up to me-- especially when im extra sore tomorrow... perhaps even help me with a bath." geralt sucks in a shocked breath, and jaskier nuzzles up under his chin.

"did i ever tell you much about my childhood?" geralt shakes his head, and jaskier starts playing with the material of his shirt. "my mother didnt really raise me. i was mostly handed off to a wet nurse. but i-- they werent... good at keeping help. high turnover rate. so i had more than one over the years, never really... got to get properly attached... and i-- i remember, when i was very little, i would get sick and i would want my mother-- i'd ask for my mother-- but she'd never come."

he sniffles a bit. clings to geralt's shirt. "you're going to have to do so much to make up for this. you're going to dote on me, and comfort me, and-- and--" his voice gets very small, and very sad, a frightened, trembling thing-- "and you wont leave me, will you?" he asks, and geralt makes a noise in the back of his throat, wraps his arms around jaskier and holds him tight, and jaskier relaxes in his grip.

"we're talking about this tomorrow. a very, very big, ongoing, gigantic conversation. but... but for now... well. we always have a fun night before the aching starts, so i want to spend my night how i normally do."

just to sate his own curiosity, he does eventually ask geralt about it, and geralt explains why only once a year, how he decided on dosing, what side effects he looks out for, explains about ulcers and throats and teeth. and jaskier sinks into his grip, inexplicably enamored with this odd, violating conversation. "wow, you really put a lot of thought into this, hmm? you know, there are some sick, twisted people out there who wouldnt have been able to resist. they wouldve made me sicker and sicker, never wouldve given a thought to any lasting consequences..." he's tracing little hearts on geralt's chest as he speaks.

"never," geralt says vehemently, "never. you have to get better, i would never permanently hurt you. i have to fix you, comfort you, not destroy you."

"my sweet geralt-- you know just how to care for me, dont you?" he says, and it practically makes geralt moan. jaskier smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

turns out theyre both fucked up in similar ways-- geralt needs to be needed, needs to be the source of someone's comfort, needs opportunities to be caring and gentle and attentive. and jaskier needs to be the center of attention, needs to be loved on, needs to be given comfort, needs someone to need. there's an element of control, too, sortve. geralt decides when it happens, how bad it is, and he tries hard not to abuse that now he's been given permission(though how much of an excuse is that, considering how the game started?). he fiddles with the recipe to see what works best, pays close attention to jaskier's schedule to make sure there are never conflicts. geralt's the one who makes him feel better, after all. you've got to trust your doctor. total trust

its weird, and fucked up, and once they agree on terms(jaskier insisted on negotiations that geralt agrees to instantly. terrified of losing jaskier, of paying in his eyes the ultimate price for his crimes. he was moments from sinking to his knees and pleading forgiveness when jaskier had prevented that by sinking into his lap.) jaskier gives himself over to it, never fights it, lets himself be forced into illness and bedrest, revels in geralt's big, gentle hands soothing his aches, love so sweet and reassuring and unconditional that eventually in his worst nightmares he finds he doesnt reach for his mother-- he reaches for geralt.

and when he admits this, he can see in geralt's eyes theres this wild, crazy spark, something about being that important. its heady

its maybe not Right, but they figure it out together

[henrycavell]

homecoming

summary: Syverson has been medically discharged from the army after a suicide attempt. He’d been able to hide his deteriorating mental health for years from the men around him, but now he has to face it head on. Hopefully not alone. 

word count: 1,426

pairing: Syverson x OFC 

*I plan on intentionally not describing the girl much, so that when you’re reading you can think of her however you’d like to!

warnings: smut later on, there will be cursing and mentions of depression, anxiety, there will be suicide attempts and self harm though i am not sure how detailed i will go into that! if things get really detailed, i will make sure to put warnings on those specific chapters.

a/n: I am not looking for constructive criticism on this. It’s been a very long time since I’ve written any fan-fiction, though I’ve been roleplaying nonstop for the last few years, I feel a little nervous posting something that’s entirely just mine. So right now, I’m not looking for any criticism, suggestions, etc. <3 If you enjoy reading though, please like/reblog! 

Also, I’m adding everyone in a tag that replied to my text post about wanting to read my stories... so if you’d prefer to be removed, just let me know! If you’d like to be added, also let me know! <3 

Taglist: @littlefreya​ @mary-ann84​ @wondersofdreaming​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @geralt-of-baevia​ @asylummara​ @dearlybelovedluke​ @promptandpros​ @mansaaay​ @daddys-littlewhitegirl​ @vacant-writings​  @kaatelyyynn​(i’m sorry if i missed anyone, i only tagged anyone who replied to my text post!!) oh & @80scavill​ i’m tagging you because you said you wanted to proofread, but i am just so nervous that im just posting! bahaha

PART 1 | PART 2

Being medically discharged from the military wasn’t something Syverson wanted to talk about, he sure as hell didn’t want to go into detail. He’d barely been able to admit to himself that his depression and anxiety had become so overwhelming that he could barely function. When his men had started noticing, some questioning his well-being and if he was stable enough to be in his position, he thought that had been the most embarrassing thing. He’d been wrong. The most embarrassing and shameful thing had been his suicide attempt, which ultimately led to his discharge.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, so he didn’t. It was bad enough that he had to think about it constantly. Every time he closed his eyes Sy was brought back to that moment. Blood all over his bunk, smeared along the wall and staining his sheets. As hard as he had tried to convince his peers and superiors that it wasn’t a suicide attempt and rather just an unfortunate mistake, they wouldn’t believe him. And after a full psych evaluation, all hope of saving his career had vanished. Shipped home before he could even argue.

His first few days home had been the hardest, the only little shimmer lighting up his life at the moment being Aika. Sy had been able to bring her home with him and the loyal companion hadn’t left his side for even a second. Seemingly knowing something was wrong with him. But even with his dog giving him all the love and affection she could muster, he still barely left his bed. Tangled up in the sheets, dozing off and on out of sleep except for the very few times that he forced himself up to use the bathroom. Sy hadn’t eaten in what he thought to be at least four days, except for nibbling on a saltine cracker here and there between forcing down some orange juice or shots of whiskey.

Syverson wasn’t proud of the way he was keeping himself, but he didn’t know what to do. He’d been working and serving his country since he graduated high school. Being home with nothing but free time on his hands and a heavy rain cloud hanging over his shoulders, the days were beginning to all blur together. He’d been particularly dreading this morning, however, because he knew the VA was sending over some help, someone to help make sure that he was getting along okay, to make sure he didn’t need anything.

Aika put her paws up on the bed and leaned her head in, grabbing the blanket with her teeth and ripping it off Syverson, pulling it all the way down into the floor. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m getting up,” Sy groaned, running his hands down his face before pulling himself up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. A shower sounded nice, but before he could really think about whether he had the energy to or not, Syverson was already hearing a knock from downstairs. Craning his head around to look at the alarm clock by his bed, his face fell, realizing it was already well after noon. He thought he had more time...

ꕥ ꕥ ꕥ

Penelope wasn’t anything more than just a volunteer, a girl in her early twenties that liked to keep herself busy, so for the last few months on the weekends, she’d been donating her time to helping the VA. They’d send her to random retired or discharged veteran’s homes to help with their household chores, or to do their grocery shopping. Sometimes, a lot of them were just lonely and wanted someone to talk to. That was Penelope’s job, to just spend a few hours doing whatever they needed that was within her capability. This seemed to be a special case, though. It was different than all the others. Penelope hadn’t been given very much information on this person, other than their name and a very vague reason as to why they had been discharged. “Don’t ask about what happened,” she’d been warned, told to just leave it to be.

Tapping her knuckles against the door once more, Penelope peered in through the glass pane into the home, seeing that all the lights were off. Stepping back on the porch, Penelope looked out into the drive, seeing a rusted pickup truck and thinking to herself that Syverson had to be home. Just as she turned back around to knock a third time, her fist already raised in the air, she came face to face with the captain.

“Heard ya the first time,” he grunted, before turning in the door way and disappearing back down the hall. Penelope had only gotten a quick glance at him. His hair was short but was starting to grow out, his beard had looked a little unkempt and it seemed he had just rolled out of bed. Letting her hand drop back down by her waist, she froze on the porch, a little taken aback by his greeting. If she could call it that.

Stepping up into the home, Penelope closed the door behind her, just as a large german shepherd came running up to her. Aika panted, her tongue sticking out as she barked excitedly, nudging herself against Penelope’s legs as if telling her to follow the captain into the kitchen. If Aika could speak, she would have told the younger girl that it had been almost a month since the captain had spoken to anyone in person. “Hey there,” Penelope cooed, reaching down to scratch Aika behind her ears before tightening her grip on her purse and heading farther into the home.

“My names Penelope,” she called, just a second before stepping into the kitchen and seeing the man pouring himself a mug of coffee. There was a bit of sunlight coming through the kitchen window, brightening up the dim space just a touch. Most of the sun rays were washing over the man’s back as he fixed his coffee just the way he liked it. The veteran was large, his biceps reminding her of tree trunks, though he did seem to be getting a little soft around the edges. Penelope stood silent for a moment, waiting to see if she’d get anything from the man, but he remained silent, even when he turned around, bringing his mug up to his lips. Syverson didn’t even look at her, instead, snapping his fingers to get Aika to come to his side. His gaze was kept down, fixed on his dog. “I’ll be visiting every weekend, uhm, for as long as you’d like me to.”

“Didn’t want ya’ to begin with, don’t need no help.” The man still didn’t look up as he spoke, instead, his attention still focused on Aika, the dog seemingly being the only thing to bring him comfort.

Penelope was definitely caught off guard. She’d met some rude veterans during her time volunteering, and while this man’s words could’ve definitely been taken that way, Penelope could almost hear the loneliness in his voice. All she’d been told about him was that he’d been battling mental health issues, discharged because of depression, though she hadn’t been given anymore information than that. Letting her shoulders sag, she took a step further into the kitchen, moving towards the fridge as she looked around his kitchen. “I believe you, you look capable.” Penelope tried putting herself in his shoes, a strong man who had climbed through the ranks, spent his whole life serving his country, only to be forced home. To be told he wasn’t fit to serve anymore, that he needed help doing simple tasks. So she tried spinning the narrative as she opened the fridge, a frown making it’s way on to her face as she peered into the empty box. “Think of it as... I’m here to do the things you don’t want to. And it looks like someone doesn’t like grocery shopping,” she tried to tease, “I’ll make a list and-“

Syverson’s footsteps were heavy as he walked away, leaving the kitchen with his cup of coffee without one final word. Watching him disappear down the hall, Penelope heard heavy thuds on the stairs as he headed back up to his room. Letting the door on the fridge shut, Penelope muttered to herself under her breath, “okay...” It seemed like every weekend her job only became harder, she met veterans that were more and more reserved and closed off. But she had no intention of giving up just yet on Syverson.

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter Eight

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

May. 27. 2020

Henry: Any plans for this lovely warm day?

Warm felt like an understatement. It was hot. The temperature had shot up out of no where making it feel even warmer than it actually was, but at twenty-four degrees it felt like the height of summer for England.

Me: I'm way ahead of you

Me:

The picture was more revealing than things I'd sent him before, but I was at the beach so it would have been weird to cover up for a selfie. At least that’s what I told myself as I waited eagerly for a response.

Henry: Wow, it looks like I'm missing out

Henry: Do you want some company or are you enjoying the alone time?

Me: I'm always happy to have your company if you want to join!

Henry: Excellent, what beach are you at?

Me: Beauport

Henry: Great, I'll see you soon

I put my phone back under my bag and out of the sun before resting my head down on my arms. The feel of the sun on my back was lovely, just warm enough to feel like I was laying under a nice hot blanket, but not hot enough that it felt like my skin was literally burning. Days like this were my absolute favourite. Anything between twenty-three and thirty degrees was just right for me and I tried to appreciate that this was a moment I wouldn't have had if my plan for the year had worked out.

I was in my own world, still basking in the warmth when a bark and a wet nose pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Kal!" A sharp voice shouted as I lifted my head to see the massive dog above me. "Leave her alone!"

I giggled as he licked my face frantically and reached up to ruffle his fluffy coat.

"It's okay," I assured Henry as he jogged over. "He's alright."

"He knows better than to run off like that," Henry frowned. "But he saw you and bolted."

"Well I appreciate that enthusiasm, but you should listen to your boss, Kal."

He boofed at the sound of his name before darting a few feet towards the sea then running back to Henry. He did it twice more before letting out a bark towards his owner.

"Alright," Henry chuckled. "You can go, Kal. Go!"

Kal didn't even hesitate before shooting off and jumping into the waves. I laughed as I looked over my shoulder at the sight while Henry spread out the blanket that was tucked under his arm and sat down next to me. I rolled over, leaning back on my elbows so it was easier for us to talk.

"He must be so hot in this weather."

"He is," Henry nodded. "But he does well. He's been to some places that are a lot hotter than this."

"Well then he's a trooper," I smiled. "Because much hotter than this and even I get cranky and I don't have a built in fur coat."

"He is," Henry chuckled, but paused as Kal started trying to bite the waves. He whistled sharply, catching his dogs attention. "Kal! Come here!"

The dog happily charged back towards us before flopping down in the sand, panting.

"He's so obedient!"

"I worked hard at that," Henry admitted. "I knew that if I wanted to take him everywhere I go then he had to be well-behaved, but he's still a dog so sometimes he does things that he shouldn't like drinking salt water until it makes him sick."

"Sometimes it's the things we love the most that hurt us," I smiled. "Like humans with alcohol."

"Fair point," Henry laughed. "But at least there's some fun to be had with alcohol, can't say the same with salt water."

"I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "It's not something I've tried."

"Me neither," Henry smiled before leaning back and tilting his head up to the sky, sighing contentedly. "Wow, it's such a nice day today."

"I know, it's perfect. It's hot, but not overwhelmingly so."

Henry looked down at me, a smirk on his face.

"I would imagine that it's hard to be overwhelmingly warm when you're wearing as little clothing as you are."

"It's a bikini," I defended myself, matching his smirk. "We're at the beach, what else would I wear?"

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," Henry assured me. "You look great."

My face heated up at that, but I quietly thanked him and turned my face towards the sun, hoping that it would account for my red cheeks. However, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Henry pulling his shirt over his head and I couldn't help, but take a peek. It was quite a sight to say the least. I'd seen him shirtless in the Witcher of course, but seeing it up close made him seem even more unreal.

The smirk was still firmly planted on Henry's face as he caught my eye and I shook myself out of it.

"Do you have sunscreen on, Mr. Cavill?"

"No," He admitted. "I didn't even think of that before I left the house, but I don't burn too easily so I think I'll be okay."

I frowned at that and reached over to my bag, pulled out my sunscreen and tossed it onto his blanket.

"It doesn't matter if you don't burn easily, it's still bad for your skin to be in sun this strong with no protection," I warned him. "Besides, isn't Geralt supposed to be super pale? Don't give your make-up artists more work."

He laughed, shaking his head at my scolding, but did as I asked after mumbling something about how bossy I was being. I ignored him though. I loved laying in the sun, but was paranoid about the potential damage it could cause so I was very used to friends and family making fun of me for my strict sunscreen rules.

I watched while he applied it to his face, arms and his chest until he turned to me with a problem.

"That's all the places I can reach," He sighed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What if my back burns?"

"I guess you'll just have to keep it against your blanket and out of the sun."

"Or you could do it for me?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but it had suddenly gone dry at the thought of running my hands over the broad, muscled back of the man I was looking at. I quickly took a sip from my water bottle to remedy that problem as he watched me closely waiting for my reaction.

"We're supposed to stay two metres apart," I reminded him, but all I got was a pout in return. The giant, manly, thirty-seven year old man actually genuinely pouted at me. And I was powerless to resist. "Alright, fine. But keep your head forward and away from me the whole time, okay?"

He grinned and nodded as he sat up and leaned forward. I shifted onto my knees before crawling over and settling behind him. I squirted some sunscreen onto my palm and gently placed it against his back. I felt nervous which made me feel silly, but this would be the most physical contact we'd had so far and it felt shockingly intimate as I carefully rubbed my hand across his skin.

His muscles were rock solid and my breath caught in my throat as they quivered under my touch. Tiny little goosebumps rose up on his skin as I took my time, exploring every curve of his shoulder blade and ridge of his spine. We were closer than we'd been since he carried me to the car on the day that we met and it suddenly hit me how much things had changed between us in that short time. A temptation washed over me to press my lips against the soft hairs on the back of his neck, but I pushed the thought out of my head as I rubbed in the last of the sunscreen, knowing it would be inappropriate.

I cleared my throat as I moved back to my blanket, feeling a new kind of heaviness in the air between us. There were a million thoughts running through my brain as we sat in silence until I managed to speak.

"It's really such a shame that you've let yourself go so much these last few months."

Henry stared at me for a moment before laughing and the thick tension between us faded slightly, at least to a point where it wasn't quite so hard to breathe.

"I know, it's embarrassing," He playfully hung his head, sarcasm dripping from his words. "It's going to take me ages to get back into shape before filming starts again."

"Do you have any idea when that will be yet?"

I felt an anxious pang in my stomach as I asked the question. I almost didn't want to know the answer because I knew how disappointed I'd be if it was anytime soon.

"No, not yet," He sighed and despite feeling sympathy for him, I was relieved. "The best guess they can give right now is maybe September, but they don't want to commit to anything because things change so fast these days."

"That's very true," I nodded. "Did you hear about them easing the restrictions here soon?"

"I did," Henry smiled. "Is it on June 10th?"

"The twelfth," I corrected. "Apparently we'll be allowed to have parties with a maximum of twenty people. My mum's already working on a guest list for a barbecue."

I rolled my eyes and Henry laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure my mum will be doing the same. You'd think having a house full would satisfy her, but I think she misses seeing people that she isn't related to."

"I can relate to that," I laughed. "That's why it's been so nice having you to spend some time with."

I thought that might be a bit cheesy, but Henry nodded.

"It has been nice for that," He agreed. "And it doesn't hurt that you flounce around in skimpy pajamas and barely there bikinis to get my attention."

My jaw dropped as he shot me a smug look.

"I am not doing anything for your attention," I protested as he laughed, tossing his head back.

"Oh, sure," He grinned. "All I did was ask what you were doing and you sent me a picture of you half-naked on the beach."

My cheeks were burning, but I laughed as I shook my head in disbelief.

"Okay, but how fast did you get here? It took you less than ten minutes and I know it's at least a fifteen minute drive from your place."

"Maybe if you follow the speed limit," He chuckled. "But the roads were empty so perhaps I went a bit fast."

"Perhaps? Sounds like you were speeding desperately to ogle me in person," I teased. "And then you make me rub sunscreen all over you? I don't think I'm the one desperate for attention here."

"You're the one who was so concerned about my sun protection," He pointed out. "But anyway, my point was that I enjoy spending time with you as well."

I laughed, letting my head fall back so the sun hit my neck and chest.

"I'm not sure I stand by that statement anymore," I mused. "I might need to find someone else to hang out with who doesn't try to wind me up all the time."

"Oh, c'mon, where's the fun in that?"

"The fun is that I keep my sanity," I joked as I pulled my sunglasses off my head and tossed them towards my bag. It was nearing two o'clock and I realized how hot the sun was starting to get. "I think I'm going to go for a swim, do you want to come with?"

Kal leapt up as I pulled myself to my feet, barking happily at me.

"She wasn't talking to you," Henry laughed, ruffling his dog's fur as he stood up as well. "But a swim sounds lovely. That sun is getting intense."

"It is," I nodded as we headed off towards the water. "It feels way hotter than I thought it was supposed to be, but it's refreshing after such a rainy spring."

"Absolutely," Henry agreed as we got to the rocky part of the beach. Closer to the water was more soft sand, but there was a middle stretch of rocks that was proving to be rather inconvenient. "Are you a good swim-"

Half-way through Henry's sentence I went down. The rocks were slippery and I lost my footing, falling on my bum with an embarrassing shriek. Kal bounded over, barking frantically from the commotion as I could barely stand myself up through my laughter.

"Oh my god," I choked out. "I can't believe that just happened."

Henry had his hand on Kal's collar to give me space and there was a smile on his face despite the look of concern.

"Are you okay?"

I got my laughter under control and nodded as I got to my feet.

"Other than my bruised ego, I'm fine."

Henry chuckled and shook his head.

"I can't believe how clumsy you are!"

"I'm really not," I insisted. "Maybe if someone didn't shatter my ankle a few weeks ago, I'd have better balance."

"Oh, sure, blame me! Last I heard, you were insisting that incident was mostly your own fault as well!" He had a valid point, but I just stuck out my tongue as I subtly tried to adjust my bikini bottoms. "You're really okay though? You didn't hurt your ankle again?"

"No, no, I'm fine," I assured him. "Just embarrassed."

He let go of Kal and we resumed our walk, making sure to be extra careful where we stepped.

"So, what I was going to ask was: Are you a good swimmer?"

"I am," I nodded. "We used to spend a lot of time at the seaside when I was a child so I love being in the water."

"That's good," Henry's smirk returned. "Hopefully you're better at sea than on land."

I cringed slightly as another wave of embarrassment at what just happened washed over me, but I couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"Oh, please," I rolled my eyes. "Don't act like you wouldn't love an opportunity to give me mouth to mouth."

Henry laughed at that, shaking his head in amusement.

"Cheeky girl," He tutted. "But I'll admit, it wouldn't be too much of an imposition if my services were needed."

He shot me a wink and for a brief moment I was actually considering letting myself drown just to give him the chance to save me.

****

We stayed at the beach for the next few hours. We swam for a bit with Kal paddling around us as we splashed each other, teased each other and had a very competitive race back to shore that I obviously let Henry win. Once we were back on on our blankets, we lounged in the sun to dry off, but since it still wasn't quite summer it did start to cool off as it got closer to dinner time.

“I should probably head home," I reluctantly said as I checked the time. "I've been here all day, my family probably think I've drowned."

"I don't know about that," Henry smirked. "You are a strong swimmer, they're probably more worried that you've fallen and broken something."

"Piss off," I laughed. "You're so rude."

Henry grinned proudly at getting under my skin once again as I slipped a sundress over my now dry bikini. Henry followed suit, putting his shirt on as I folded my blanket and checked to make sure all my things were tucked safely in my bag.

"How did you get here?" Henry asked as he folded up his own blanket as well. "Did you drive?"

"No, I walked."

"You walked?" He raised his eyebrows. "That's a long way to walk."

"It was a nice morning," I shrugged. "I just popped on an audio book and it didn't feel like such a long trek."

"Fair enough," Henry nodded as we headed towards the parking lot with Kal hot on our heels. "But how are you planning to get home?"

"I hadn't really thought of that," I admitted. "I'll probably call my dad and see if he can pick me up. Otherwise, I guess I'll be walking back too."

"I can give you a ride," Henry offered immediately. "Seems silly for your dad to drive all the way here when we're going to almost the same place."

It was a tempting offer and it did make sense, but I bit my lip nervously. We really were supposed to be staying two metres apart and we'd already been closer than we probably should have been throughout the day. Sensing my hesitation, Henry rushed to assure me.

"We can keep the windows open if it makes you feel more comfortable and I really haven't seen anyone other than you and my family for weeks now."

"We're so bad at this two metres apart thing," I laughed with a shake of my head. "But okay, thank you. I would love a ride home."

"Perfect," He smiled. "I wasn't really going to take no for an answer anyway."

I smiled at that knowing it was probably true. I hadn't known Henry all that long, but I'd already discovered that his dog wasn't the only stubborn one in their little duo. It was nice though. I might not have dated much in the last couple of years, but I knew that chivalry was hard to find and it was becoming more and more clear that Henry really was a true gentleman and I was very grateful to have someone like him around to brighten up the dark lockdown days.

_________

I’m starting a tag list for this story now so let me know if you would like to be added!

Tag List: @heartfelt-pen​

[crocoguile]

first lines

rules: list the first line of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). see if there are any  patterns, choose your favorite opening line, and then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Gott tagged by @tilltheendwilliwrite

alright you are getting these fast and dirty and in no particular order and these are excluding several fandoms and if the title (if it even has one) doesn’t link somewhere it’s currently unposted

1 - If you had told Darcy when she signed on to be Jane Foster’s Official Gremlin for a semester for the college credits that she’s meet and tase a god, she’d have snorted and asked you where you got the good greens you were toking on.

2 - “his car shot flames” Pepper might have been running a fever when she woke up that morning in her hotel room.

3 - Visiting Hours (from the Biokinetic uiniverse that’s currently being rewritten) Steve isn’t terribly surprised at the idea of Howard being a terrible father.

4 - It’s Not Home Without You There (also biokineticverse) Jane, when Heimdall fetches them, punches the Watcher square in the face.

5 - Of Marksmanship (What Even Is Thor?) (also from biokineticverse) Thor is often boiled down to a simple man: food and fighting.

6 - Varying Degrees Of Sexual Acceptance  “Oh, sorry to just barge in like this to a public area and all. Feel free to keep going though.”

7 - Misstep (old username but still mine) Pepper is mortified when one misstep, despite her careful, certain stride, sends her Bambi-ing across the sidewalk outside a business that she’d just settled a software deal with.

8 - Sunday Mornings Are For Belief (also  from my old username) Darcy is a fan of music.

9 -  Maggie groaned as she shuffled into the sunlight living room of her little house and took in the chaos of everywhere but the loveseat where Steve was sat in a pair of well fitting jeans and a sweater that she had finished knitting and gifted to him half a year before when the trees were the color of fire and the air in her neighborhood smelled like bread and cinnamon and woodsmoke.

10 -  “Oh, that’s dangerous.”

11 -  Bucky had no desire to go to war again.

12 - “this isn't gonna be done until the fourth anniversary is it jfc” the tentative working title of a fic for my wife @mama-dubh Siobhan dragged her hands down her face as her feet carried her through the open floorplan to the kitchen in search of the high-grade caffiene she could hear percolating in the coffee machine.

13 - “science bros crack treated seriously” Steve really didn’t trust a damn thing that Tony and Bruce were up to.

14 - The Taste Of Death’s Kiss; Prologue “Oh, fuck you…” Bucky grumbles as he runs down the alley to crash elbow first through a security door of some swanky office building downtown.

15 -  It feels like being smashed against the glassy black coasts of shattered obsidian.

16 -  "What's that..." Jaskier pauses inside Geralt's tiny, shithole apartment's front door and stares at the enormous electric blue monstrosity that is suction-cupped to the floor in front of the most unnecessary door he's ever seen, holding it open. “uhm... there?”

17 - untiled bucky criminal mins xover au Bucky leaned back in the big leather office chair as he sank into it, a small thermos in his hands.

18 - “stardew valley thingomadingo ‘fantasy au’” The first time Paul sees the thing, he’s fishing in the dead of winter and the Glacierfish gets off his line because he’s distracted.

19 - There Is Pleasure In A Certain Amount Of Exposure (also the old username...) The game is simple. There are a few rules, and they are all easy enough to follow.

20 - With My Every Breath, I Give You This Promise (also that old username) The first thought in Bucky’s head on his and Darcy’s wedding day goes something like, Buchanan, even with an increased metabolism, you are not immune to the morning breath that comes with drinking that hard.

patterns? marvel. smut or crack are my specialties apparently. i really like bucky barnes. i write a lot of female ofcs bc i know m/f or canon characters in slash pairings are what get hits... and if i’m writing a trans character it’s geralt.

Gonna tag... @anotherdayforchaosfay @poisonousbuttercup and any fic writers in my followership if you see this you gotta <3 (that way i can get tagged and go read ur stuff o 3o)

[shxfu]

RULES: TAG NINE PEOPLE YOU WANT TO GET TO KNOW BETTER.

RELATIONSHIP   STATUS :  all is complicated and I’m so tired FAVORITE   COLOR : I think I love all colors, it just depends on the way you combine them; I didn’t really like green colour or yellow colour before, but because of Shifu I now I adore emerald green & gold together. So yeah, my thing is colour schemes, not monocolour. LIPSTICK   OR   CHAPSTICK  :  Lipstick (I never had a chapstick, but lip balms are neat too) LAST   SONG   I   LISTENED   TO :   Sia — Balladino LAST   MOVIE   I   WATCHED :  Kung Fu Panda (ofc lol) TOP   THREE   TV   SHOWS :  (don’t usually watch TV shows but) What we do in the shadows, Ten miles of peach blossom and Big Bang Theory TOP   THREE   CHARACTERS :   oh no, I can’t, I have too many characters that I love for many reasons and I can’t say I love someone more or less. If I love them — that’s it. I will give you few characters that I like, but this is not the entire list okay: Master Shifu (ofc), Ciel Phantomhive, Geralt of Rivia, Rapunzel (Disney), Bigby Wolf (TWAU), Alice Liddell (AMR), Toothiana (ROTG).....   TOP   THREE   SHIPS ADOPTIONS :   Well, I will talk only about the ships I have on this blog, I guess. I totally adore each ship I have here ❤✨ I am just happy to be able to roleplay them, they are all amazing. BOOKS   I ’ M    CURRENTLY    READING : I am not reading anything right now, but the last thing I read was Montezuma's Daughter by H. Rider Haggard and I loved it. Tagged by: @wxlfbxss & @kathexismania ( thank you, loves ❤ ) Tagging: @wiithsecrets, @xthespareprincess, @bloominghands, @jenniika, @the-purple-hero and YOU ❤

[deathonyourtongue]

Winter Passing | Chapter 10

Summary: After car accident leaves him at the base of a mountain with no sign of civilization for miles, a breakup is the least of Henry’s problems. Just as death’s icy fingers begin to coil around him, salvation presents itself in the form of an old cabin in a clearing. Despite years of being told fairy tales and ghost stories that warn against such things, he uses his last of his strength to reach the cottage. When he wakes, he finds not a demon, but an angel, long removed from the insanity of the modern world. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: None, for once. A/N : I think my tag list broke during the last update. Should be fixed now. Like what I do? Buy me a coffee!

I  II  III  IV V VI VII VIII IX _______________________________________________

Send me a PM me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

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Foraging in the winter was a skill to be honed, and after finishing the morning work on the property, Henry followed Olivia out towards the wilds of the forest that took up the back end of her home. 

“I didn’t think anything grew in winter, especially out here,” he murmured, watching her intently, keen to learn and-as he tended to be more and more often with each passing day-in awe of how she moved, how she lived. 

“Technically nothing grows in winter, but there’s plenty to gather,” Olivia explained as she opened her hand, showing Henry a seed pod that resembled a dancing flame.

“The pancakes we had the other day? Were made with flour from these Hornbeam seeds. And here? These are delicious when you prepare them correctly,” Olivia explained, her other hand holding a few crabapples. 

Eyebrows up in amazement, Henry dutifully turned around, letting Olivia put more foraged goods into the backpack she’d strapped him into. “What about poisonous stuff? Or stuff that you can use for...You know…” He made a face and Olivia couldn’t help but laugh, cupping Henry’s cheek and reaching up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss as they continued their walk through the forest, protected from the elements by the thick overhead cover of the ancient trees. 

“That too. Holly and Mistletoe, though I personally have little use for them as nature intended,” Olivia nodded, her smile growing bigger as she felt Henry tuck her in under his arm, pulling her close as they fell in step with one another. 

“Tell me a story from when you were...Before you were a witch?” Henry asked, his voice soft and tinged with reticence, lest he say the wrong thing. 

“I was born a witch, sweetheart. It’s not like vampires. You don’t get turned into one at the peak of your life,” Olivia laughed sweetly, squeezing his waist with one hand while the other rubbed gently over his chest. “And before you ask, no vampires do not exist. Some of us do blood magic, which is pretty close, but none of us have fangs...That I know of.” Gazing up at him with amusement, she leaned into his strong form as they continued to walk.

“A story from when I was younger. Let’s see...When I first became aware of my powers, my favorite thing to do was hide things up in the trees. I started small; little bits of fur, some meat, one of my mother’s hair combs. No one noticed at first, of course, but then I started to get bolder. My father’s saddle was the first thing anyone really noticed, because, well, we only had one at the time. My crowning achievement though, was putting the family goat in the tallest tree of our village. It lasted all of an hour before the goat began to bleat, and a crowd formed. My parents were none too impressed. I’ll never forget my father having to climb up there, only to throw the poor thing down into an elk skin a few of our neighbors held out.”

“You were-”

“A little shit, yeah.” Olivia grinned proudly up at Henry, earning a laugh and a playful kiss, neither her nor Henry paying much attention to their surroundings, too wrapped up in the moment to care about what might be headed their way.

“Well, you turned out alright, that’s what matters, no?” Henry chuckled, giving her a warm squeeze and another kiss to the temple. 

Olivia couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more at peace and more elated. Looking up at him, she knew Henry was the root cause, but after centuries of solitude and suffering, Olivia refused to let the fear of the unknown take hold. What they had was all she’d ever wanted, and she wasn’t about to let it slip from between her fingers. 

The choice, however, didn’t seem to be hers. 

As they rounded the path into a smaller clearing just west of the cottage, the woods turned silent. Though it was winter, the forest still tended to be a cacophony of sounds, from bird calls to deer munching on berries. The silence was unnerving, and looking over her shoulder, Olivia’s unease grew into fear as she watched Gunnar go into a low crouch. Eyes fixed on the clearing, the husky bared his teeth and raised his hackles, on the defensive. 

Olivia had barely turned back around when she caught sight of the apparition. Despite the cloud-covered sunlight that streamed into the clearing, the creature still terrified her, as the light allowed her to see her mother’s visage in greater detail. 

Henry’s hold on her tightened instinctively, his eyes fixed on the ghostly image before him. “Liv, darling, what do we do?” He whispered, his concern growing when he felt Olivia begin to tremble. 

Hiding her face in his chest a moment, Olivia worked to get her breathing back under control, fighting off every urge to run, knowing that doing so would only aggravate the apparition. Instead, she felt an anger grow inside her, usurping the fear as she forced herself to remember that this land was hers. With a push away from Henry, she turned her full attention to the spirit, drawing it closer with her actions. 

“Gunnar, stay.” She commanded when she heard the husky stalk closer, a low rumble making it clear he was ready to attack at any moment. 

“You’re not welcome here. Leave. Now.” Olivia spoke firmly, taking off her gloves. Henry’s eyes went wide when he noticed the aquamarine waves entwining around Olivia’s fingers. Moving like the ocean itself, they crashed and flowed, gathering in strength and fury until they created a stormy swell between her hands. There was no doubt, even to Henry, that if she let go, whoever was on the receiving end of the rush of water, would be in for a terrible time.

“Last chance, wretch. Tell me who summoned you and from whence you came, or suffer even more than you already have.”

The water between her hands began to glow, and upon closer inspection, Henry realized there was fire beneath the waves and the true nature of Olivia’s threat became clear. Being hit with a jet of water was one thing, but if that water were hotter than an open flame, spurned by anger, it was something else entirely.

Frozen in place, Henry couldn’t stop his cry of fear as the apparition suddenly lunged forward, screeching when it was hit full on by Olivia’s fury. To his surprise, the thing began to disintegrate once more, although this time, the process seemed far more grotesque. Instead of fading, the water seemed to eat away at the apparition, like acid on metal. It turned his stomach, but he couldn’t look away, fascinated and appalled in equal measure. 

Just before its face melted away, the creature let out another ear-piercing wail, the singular word it spoke chilling Henry to the bone. 

TABITHA!!

Unable to keep from shivering, Henry only found himself able to move when Gunnar nuzzled at his thigh, the husky’s demeanor back to normal as he sat at Henry’s feet. 

“Tabitha? Who’s Tabitha?” Olivia asked as she shook off her own chill, the creature’s all-white stare one that would be burned into her memory for a very long time. Moving back to where Henry stood shell shocked, she rubbed his back, knowing full well this could be his breaking point. 

“T-Tabitha’s my ex-girlfriend’s name. I w-was leaving her the day you saved me.” 

Olivia could feel the chill in his body, the fear in his heart as he made the connection. Though she had no idea how long they’d been together, the betrayal and astonishment Henry felt coursed through every vein, and it didn’t take a genius to realize that Tabitha had kept her true nature a secret from her lover. 

Taking Henry’s hand in hers, Olivia turned them in the direction of home, hoping the hearth, some tea, and her thickest blanket would be enough to ease the pain she knew was imminent in Henry’s very tender heart. 

“What I don’t understand is...Why’d she have your mother’s face?” Henry mumbled long after his tea was gone, his gaze still despondent as he sat curled up on the couch, as close to the hearth as he could manage. 

“If she’s as strong as she seems, Tabitha will have seen me with you. It doesn’t take a lot of work to conjure up a family line, even one as old as mine. She’d have found my mother’s face in my thoughts without breaking much of a sweat.”

A visible shiver went through Henry and he shook his head, looking for all the world like he might cry at any moment. Frowning, Olivia curled up next to him, making sure he could feel her arms squeezing tightly around his torso, hoping the contact would ground him. 

“Am I cursed?” Henry’s question made Olivia’s laugh spill out before she could stop it. 

“I wouldn’t say that. After all, only one of us is sending threats, and from what little you’ve told me, it sounds like she wasn’t the most pleasant person to begin with.” Shifting easily with Henry, Olivia let him settle as they both laid out on the couch. With his head between her breasts, she finally felt Henry’s anxiety ease and his heart rate slow. 

The crash against the window sent them both flying off the couch, once more on high alert. 

“Oh my god, it’s just an owl. Christ, where’s Dyster when you need him?” Olivia muttered to herself as she moved to the window, opening it to let the bird in. Scrambling up the couch and as far away from the black-and-white-feathered creature as possible, Henry’s wide-eyed look matched the owl’s, the two staring at one another for a long moment before the bird turned its attention to Olivia.

“I come on behalf of--”

“Theofina, right? Yeah, I get it. I’m wanted in Rome. Since it seems I don’t have much of a choice, tell her to ready my apartments, and that I’ll be bringing a guest not of our order. How’s your beak? You hit pretty hard.” 

“It’s fine, ma’am. Just wasn’t paying attention as there was a mouse and, well, I’m hungry.” The difference between the two emissaries couldn’t have been more blatant, and not for the first time, Olivia wondered just how much had truly changed in her former home.

“Here, I have some rabbit to spare. Warm yourself by the fire. Are you pressed for time?” Olivia asked, doing her best to ignore Henry’s befuddled expression as she pulled some raw rabbit from the floor cooler, cutting it in half before meeting the bird by the hearth.

“What’s your name?” She asked, stroking over his head gently, surprised when she still felt a chill in his feathers.

“Atrix, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Atrix bowed his head for a moment before taking the offered meat and downing it in go. 

“Are you treated well?”

“I’m given a home, food, and responsibility, ma’am. That’s all I require.” Atrix nodded, his eyes closing in peaceful enjoyment of the food in his belly, the heat from the fire, and Olivia’s caring touch. 

“Good. Go when you’re ready. I’ll leave the window open.” Olivia spoke softly, feeding Atrix the second half of the rabbit before moving to wash her hands. 

“Thank you, ma’am. You’ve been most kind. Is this the guest you intend to bring, in the typical way?” Atrix questioned, his eyes going as wide as saucers before he turned his head nearly all the way around to look at Henry. 

“Yes. It might be uncomfortable, but it’s the quickest way there, and I know he’s strong enough to endure it.”  

“Endure? Endure what?” Henry asked, eyes still fixed on the owl, unsure of what was being talked about, given he could only hear one half of the conversation. 

“How do you feel about a quick trip to Rome with me?”

[deathonyourtongue]

Resurrection | 5

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Waterboarding. Dream sequence involving death and gore.  A/N: I’m reposting this for a few reasons. Mainly ‘cause I’m done having my fics in two places, wanted to re-work the cover, and most importantly wanted those of you who weren’t following me back when these chapters were originally posted to be able to take it in from scratch. I’ve also cleaned up a lot of the text as far as grammar, etc. goes, so it’s more polished.  ***ALSO: All the Portuguese translations are found in the links (read the address bar or the error that comes up when you click the link)*** Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

C H A R A C T E R  C H A R T

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

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Send me a PM me if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

@fumbling-fanfics @skiesfallithurts @pinkpenguin7 @madmedusa178 @fangoria @bluestarego @my–own–personal–paradise @tastingmellow @honeychicanawrites @angelicapriscilla @swiftyhowlz @schreiberpablo @pinkwatchblueshoes @kirasmomsstuff @prettypascal  @playbucky @queen-of-the-kastle@cajunpeach @godlikeentity @captainsamwlsn @lilac-tea-time @katerka88 @melaninmimii @alienor-romanova @downtowndk @redhairedmoiraandtheliferuiners @agniavateira @henryfanfics101 @fatefuldestinies @iloveyouyen @justaboringadult @xxxxxerrorxxxxx @bloodyinspiredfuck @peakygroupie @stxphmxlls @trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia @speakerforthedead0 @oddsnendsfanfics @snowbellexx @leilabeaux @cavillunraveled @woofgocows @andahugaroundtheneck @sofiebstar @kmhappybunny @mary-ann84 @cappot @cheyentjj @cavillhavoc @sleepy-moon-girl@princess-of-riviaa @peakyrogers @hell1129-blog @thethirstyarchive @worldicreate @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @henry-cavill-obsessed @rmtndew @elena-lawley @bichibibi @penwieldingdreamer @scoopitypoopbloop @flightofthefantasies @justrae9903 @raspberrydreamclouds @minton131 @hollydaisy23 @mizzzpink @omgkatinka @rn7rocks @elenas-fanficrecs @ohjules @writernerd23 @whatawildone @toss-some-coffee-to-your-witcher @modernscarlett @jasmindaughteroftheworld @badoopwoop @onlyhenrys @moderapoppins @flouncingxtart @ffreadings @captaingothgirl1996 @schmidten17 @alexakeyloveloki @asylummara @dearlybelovedluke @pinkzsugar @valkyrhys @ntlmundy @livingonmywishes @thotti3evans  @whitewolfandthefox @madbaddic7ed @sausagefest1996 @foxyjwls007 @fuckoffbard @bethabear12 @lovieebby @marswritings @mooniiieee @traceyaudette @pumpkinglory @keiva1000 @my-rosegold-soul @geralt-of-baevia @luna-aestas @thereisa8ella @lovefreylove @littlefreya @designedacertainway @worshipping-skarsgard @aletheladyinred @sugarpenchant​

Gone are the suits and ties, and my heels are replaced by combat boots. 

The safehouse we use for interrogations is across town from the one we stay at, and it shows. Far from the posh of Knightsbridge, Dagenham is home to the largest diesel engine manufacturing site in the world. Soot and oil coat everything and at night, the area is a ghost town; perfect for our needs. 

On paper, all the governments in the room condem torture, but work in the business of terror long enough, and you know that’s all just to save face and keep the top brass’ hands clean. We’re not animals about it of course, but if Miguel wobbles a little in his seat, it’s only because we let Max drive and London roads are so winding.

“You know...We don’t technically have to take the bag off his head.” Flip murmurs, breaking the silence we’ve all been in since getting Miguel settled into his new surroundings. 

“You’re absolutely certain he’s never seen you, darling?” Max asks me, his face set in concentration. The rest of the team look up for my answer and I nod. 

“Positive. Besides, bag or no bag, if he knew me, he’d have recognized my call sign by now,” I remind them, relief shooting around the room as all the men recall that Miguel was privy to any conversation we had in the car, call signs included. 

“Alright. Who’s going in with you?” Rick asks, finally moving from his position against the wall and taking a seat next to Flip who looks all too eager to get a crack at our soon-to-be informant. Knowing he’ll be a liability if he reads the tone wrong, I look around, my gaze resting on Max as I smirk. 

“Beef. I owe him for nearly taking his head off earlier,” I answer, both Dom and Rick nodding their understanding. Flip looks somewhat crestfallen, but I know he understands. He, of all of us, is too close to the situation, and though I know there’ll be a time to turn him loose, this isn’t it. 

Max and I both stand from our seats, checking our handguns as we move towards the blast door that separates us from Miguel. Taking a moment, we focus our gazes on eachother, silently getting on the same page so that there’s no chance of Miguel thinking one of us is weaker than the other. 

With a nod to each other, I take a deep breath and open the door. Padded on the inside in order to mitigate any screaming or loud music we might use throughout our interrogations, the room is graveyard silent. Once the door shuts, Max moves with precision, turning the stereo on full blast, and I can’t help but smile at the song that comes on. While all of us are metal fans, it’s one of the most effective interrogation tools we have because those in the hot seat usually either haven’t ever heard metal before (and are immediately disturbed by it) or despise it to the point where they can only tolerate so much. EDM comes a close second, but in Miguel’s case, Metal is the right call as he flinches immediately. Catching Max’s eye, we can’t help but grin as we mouth along to the lead singer’s screaming, the song’s lyrics about lying and choking oddly appropriate for what’s about to happen. 

I headbang along with the double-bass as I grab a five gallon jug of water, hoisting it over my shoulder and letting Max handle the towels as we set things up. When everything’s ready, Max moves into position, arms crossed over his broad chest, his trademark scowl firmly in place. 

I count to three with one hand, and on ‘one’, pull the bag from Miguel’s head, immediately tipping his head back and holding it in place with my forearm as I dilate his eyes. Max and I both stay out of his line of sight for the few moments it takes for the drops to work, and once we see the tell-tale squint, we slowly move to our places. 

“Miguel, ta com cara que tá com sede, meu amigo.” I open, one eyebrow raised, staying just far away enough to be little more than a faceless blur to our informant. 

“Vai se foder!” He yells, trying and failing to get out of the restraints he’s in. 

“Ah, que isso, cara. Não fique assim. A gente só quer falar com você,” I purr, playing the “Nice Girl” routine even though everyone in the room knows it won’t last long. 

“Certo, é por isso que vocês me capturaram, colocaram um saco na minha cabeça, e me levaram a Deus sabe onde. Falar, uma ova!” 

“Já aprendeu Inglês, seu cafajeste?” I ask him, hoping he’s picked up a second language since the last time any of our governments dealt with him, more for the rest of the team’s sake than my own.

“I have,” he says, his accent nearly a perfect facsimile of anyone who’s been born and raised in London. Max’s eyebrow goes up in mild surprise, and if I know my team, the rest of them are all pressed against the two-way mirror, intent on listening now that they can understand. 

“Good, so we’ll do this in English, ‘cause fuck you,” I tell him in no uncertain terms, moving into his space so he can confirm that the woman he wanted to bang at the party is the same one who’s now holding his life in her hands. 

With everyone in the room discreetly mic’d up--including Miguel--there’s no need to turn down the music, and I use it to my advantage, wanting him as disoriented as possible so that he’s not focused on his words or the thoughts behind them.

“Three weeks ago, right here in London, two of our own were killed by a bomb that has your signature all over it. Wanna tell me who you sold that bomb to?”

Miguel laughs, a dry throaty sound that comes from too many cigars, and too much time around toxic chemicals; if one of us doesn’t kill him, I know for a fact cancer will get him in the end. 

“I sell bombs to many people. How am I supposed to remember who I’ve sold to a month ago, puta?”

I don’t have time to react as Max lunges in and connects with Miguel’s jaw in one of the most vicious right hooks I’ve seen him throw in a long time. 

“Talk to her like that again and I’ll dislocate the other side, y’cunt.” Max growls, teeth bared mere inches from Miguel’s face, leaving no room for interpretation of just how pissed he is. Without another word, Max takes Miguel’s face in his hand and relocates the joint he popped out, a scream coming from our informant as soon as he can open his mouth.

“See, Miguel, I’d like to think you’d remember, because this particular order had your initials on one of the plates, and I know you only do that when your order is for a single explosive device. Mass orders go through the factory, but the custom pieces, well...You’ve gotta take pride in your work, right?” I’ll give the man props, because if he’s searching for a lie, I can’t tell. His face stays unreadable apart from the discomfort from the light. 

I shoot Max a look just as the song switches over, and he nods. 

“Fuck this.” He barks, flipping a switch on the wall that immediately sends Miguel’s chair back into a 45 degree angle, the back legs hinged to the floor so he can never truly fall back, but feels  like he’s going to, just the same. With the lights directly in his line of sight, I can’t keep from smirking as I hear Miguel hiss and try to cover his eyes, the steel shackles on his wrists clanking loudly and only causing him more pain. 

“What is it, Miguel? Lights too bright?” I ask as I move to grab the first neatly folded towel from the pile. “Don’t worry, I got you.” 

Pressing the towel firmly against his face, I stand out of the way as Max pours the water from the jug. We both count silently in our heads, Max stopping at exactly the right number as I flick the switch to bring Miguel upright once more. 

Our informant coughs and sputters, screaming every vulgarity I’ve ever heard in Portuguese before spitting in our general direction. 

“THERE WAS NO NAME! IT WAS PURCHASED BY AN ENTITY!”

I roll my eyes, annoyed that a man who once gave up an internationally-wanted terrorist is now spewing bullshit about an entity. 

“So you sold your shit to a ghost? ‘That what you want me to believe?” I ask, feeling my own anger start to rise. I grab a fresh towel and Max and I repeat the process with surgical precision. It takes Miguel a little longer to cough up the water he’s swallowed, but when he’s finally able to speak, his voice is far more defeated. 

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. The entity I sold that bomb to is known as Cenere. I get a call with a location, date, and time for delivery. I get the specs sent via encrypted email, and when the time comes, I deliver, usually to a lock box in the middle of nowhere. That is all I know.”

Max looks at me and I know he’s itching to hit him again. I shake my head, squatting down in front of our informant so that he can see me clearly. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell us that may be important? For example, the location and date of the last delivery you provided for this entity?” I enunciate every word, my tone making it clear that I’ll be the one hitting him next if he tries to lie or get smart again. 

“L-last delivery was in Roma, by the Colosseum, a week ago.” He answers, still hoarse from inhaling water. 

“So whoever these people are, they’re planning another bombing,” I say, feeling the room behind me start moving; Rick and Dom looking up information, Flip packing our gear. We don’t have a lot of time. 

“Y-yes. The bomb that killed your amigos was delivered exactly two weeks before it detonated. That’s how they always do it.” Miguel adds, giving us an even narrower timeline to get to Rome. 

“Cut him loose,” I sigh, wishing Miguel could give us more to go on besides a location we’ll be getting to with zero prep time and even less information. 

Max moves towards him, a wolfish grin on his face. I close my eyes, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. 

“I sincerely hope someone strings you up by your balls and cuts them off with a piece of paper. This is for everyone you’ve had a hand in massacring. Especially my friends.” 

I don’t have to look to hear a few of Miguel’s teeth rattle to the floor. 

The room is starkly lit, the sickly blue tone reminiscent of a hospital. Empty aside from a plexiglass box filled with dirt and a pine-board coffin, there’s a feeling dread that emanates throughout the place. 

“Carmen? Carmen! Carmen, if you can hear me, you need to get me out. Get me the fuck out of here, Carmen. Carmen, please!! Please! I can’t-I can’t breathe! Carmen, don’t leave me here!” 

A heartbeat--elevated and distinct--couple with the sounds of hyperventilation to turn dread into pure fear. 

“CARMEN, PLEASE! I’M GOING TO DIE! DON’T LET THEM KILL ME!”

Something cuts through the air with a distinct zing, crashing heavily onto the floor. The box, the dirt, and the coffin are all sliced neatly, trapped almost perfectly between thick sheets of razor-sharp glass. All except the first slice, where the side of the coffin has fallen away, trapped at a skewed angle below the dirt. 

Rick looks like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, tears flooding his eyes. Despite being segmented like some primal experiment, every part of him still heaves with breath, organs pulsing with blood they no longer have, intact structurally despite being completely separated. 

“Carmen, please!” It’s a whisper now, the life going out of Jake’s eyes even as the tears sweep his face.

A long, low horn sounds, finalizing the horror that’s come to pass.

I wake screaming, tears pouring down my face. Not realizing where I am at first, I don’t even see the boys as I fight with my lap belt and haul ass out of the seat, vaulting over Dom’s legs and careening to the bathroom to throw up. It’s rare that I dream, but when I do, it’s never good. This one felt too real; felt like a message from a man I’m certain we buried. The room spins and I heave out what little is left from lunch earlier. When I’m certain there’s nothing left to get out, I sit back, sobbing. 

Once my breath stabilizes, I stand up and wash out my mouth, swilling the jet’s courtesy mouthwash before splashing cold water on my face. Stepping out of the small bathroom, I’m met with utter silence and four sets of eyes staring at me with concern. I can’t bring myself to tell them what I dreamt, and none of them need an intro into nightmares, as all of us, regardless of how little bloodshed we’ve seen, have them from time to time. 

Still feeling the panic in my throat, I decide against taking my old seat, not wanting to be caged in. Instead, I sit behind Dom’s aisle, resting my head against the cool plastic of the window and looking out, my mind reeling. What if the bomb isn’t what killed him and Benj? What if they suffered? What if-- I cut off my own mental processing, not wanting to go down the dark alleys of my mind, wiping my eyes to stem the flow of fresh tears. 

I feel a hand at my knee, and looking down, find Dom’s hand reaching back through the seats. Though he faces forward, it’s easy to tell what he’s doing, and I lace our fingers together loosely, taking the much-needed comfort of his touch. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, and I turn my face away further, not wanting any of the guys to see me like this.