Mike’s not sure if it’s been like this all night or if it only started recently. He should’ve been watching more closely, should’ve known the minute that something shifted. It doesn’t matter that he’s spent most of the evening within arm’s reach, he still should’ve known.
What should be a laid back night out with the team has got a knot of worry eating away at his gut. Because something is… not right. But he can’t put a finger on what.
Okay, he can. It’s Ginny.
(When isn’t it Ginny?)
He just hasn’t figured out why she’s acting so unusually and it’s starting to drive him crazy.
She’s not sloppy. In fact, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ginny even get drunk on team outings. Tipsy, yes, but rarely drunk. She tends to keep such exacting control over herself.
So, while she’s drunk more than she usually does, it’s not anything to raise eyebrows. Well, anyone else’s eyebrows. But there’s definitely something different about her tonight.
N/A: I hope I’ve done correctly, just to know that I almost cried while I was imagining and writing this.
It wasn’t for the things happened this way, it wasn’t for anything bad to happen. But for the first time, after so many years, she could not be agile, failed to notice what was wrong, she couldn’t see what was about to happen. She hadn’t noticed that this whole mission was a trap. It was her fault. Just hers and nobody else. And although Steve repeat lovingly thousands of times she had no guilt and everyone were there beside her… She felt alone. She felt cold and afraid. She felt so lost, as if she never would find the way to that small fraction of happiness in her life again. And the truth was that she wouldn’t. Not when she allowed rip out the only person who could represent this
fraction of happiness.
Natasha tried to control her tears that kept on falling, the wave of emotions she gradually could no longer contain with her blank expression. She felt pain. Her chest ached in a way that even a shot would hurt. The pain was physical, psychological.. She could feel the pain in her soul, if she still had any.
The room fell in a heavier silence and it seemed that she would soon suffocate, no one could look her in the eyes or in her direction for a long time. No one had courage. Even Clint. But all remained in the room, as a form of respect and farewell. For her. For you. For what that moment represented.
She couldn’t lift the white sheet covering your body, she knew she couldn’t bear to look your serene face without your smile she loved so much. She would break once and forever. But she let one hand rest on your head gently as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, remembering all the happy times you had together. That was how she would remember you. That was how she would cherish your love. Steve hadn’t gone closely, he was standing a few steps behind her, as if waiting for any sign of weakness, readily waiting to help in anything. But she just opened her eyes, without hiding the pain, without being ashamed of her tears. And then Natasha left the room without looking back.
A day in the life - Molly Hooper Appreciation week - Day 1
Oyster card? Check. Keys? Check. Grocery list, to be sure to have everything she needed for the party she was throwing in two days? Check. No consulting detective in sight? Check.
Molly put on her parka, grabbed her purse and headed towards the door, where she promptly collided with the last person she wanted to meet. Typical: when she had no time to assist him with his bizarre requests, he managed to appear out of nowhere in her lab, ready to cajole her into another experiments on molds, spores and fungus.
“Molly, I need…”. With an agility even Sherlock had failed to deduce about her, she darted under his open arms and reached the exit.
When in two quick strides Sherlock was by her side, she stopped suddenly and turned to him.
“I have no time, or will, to help you tonight, Sherlock. I’m tired, and I have to stop at a supermarket, where I’m sure I will find a row, before finally arriving home, where I can’t wait to have a bubbly bath, have a glass of wine, and go to sleep, preparing myself for another day in this morgue. Now, if you will excuse me…”. She tried to walk away, but the consulting detective just before her prevented her from doing so.
“You sound like this kind of life doesn’t satisfy you anymore”, he said, a hint of incredulity in his voice.
Was he right? Well, he was Sherlock bloody Holmes, of course he was right. There was no way to lie in front of him, and hope to find a way out.
“Sometimes… Yes, sometimes I feel tired, and discontented. I think it happens to all of us, in a way or another, at one point in our lives, doesn’t it?”
The vacant look in his eyes told her that obviously Sherlock didn’t know what she was talking about.
She tried to move past him, and finally the consulting detective gave way to her. She was at the end of the hall, when his voice reacher her once more.
“Is it because of me?”
She sighed, and without turning, she answered. “My life doesn’t revolve around you, Sherlock, believe it or not.”
She set off again, and finally she was outside. It didn’t surprise her to find Sherlock waiting for her, holding open a cab door.
“Don’t you even try to decline my offer, Dr Hooper. You can go to the supermarket, while I try to make myself useful. After all, I owe you a lot, and it’s time to start repaying you, don’t you think?”
She was too exhausted to disagree with him… And after all, he was right, once again. But he was Sherlock bloody Holmes, he was always right.
Or, the five times Jemma’s hands on Fitz’s shoulders serve as his anchor, and the one time it serves as hers.
For wishingwhileyouwork. Based on these gifsets [x][x]. Title taken from the song Beside You by Marianas Trench, because I was listening to like, four different Fitzsimmons mixes and this was the one song they all had in common.
Super special thanks to marvelinghope who is an angel above all things.
And if your heart wears thin, I will hold you up
On his third week at the Academy, Leo Fitz stumbles into his Applied Physics lab ten minutes late, with dirt stains on his cardigan and knees. Two of his classmates from Mechanical Engineering had taken to literally pushing him around the courtyard after lunch. He’d managed to avoid them for a few days now by stocking up on sandwiches and eating in his room, but today he’d run out. And despite trying to be as small and discreet in the cafeteria as he could manage, they’d still spotted him and had given him hell for it.
Professor Vaughn takes one look at the boy’s appearance and decides to forego his admonishments. Instead he raises his brow and says “Please take your seat Mr. Fitz.”