Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.


144. Chris Hemsworth 2

~Every muscle in your body ached. The smell of iron and rot filled the room, with an underlying tinge of bleach. A wave of nausea swept over you, making your stomach turn. You swallowed hard, trying to deflect the bile rising in your throat. For the first time, you opened your eyes. The walls were dingy and grimy. The once white wallpaper was peeling at every opportune spot, and russet spatters and smears soaked the central portion of each panel. The room was dark, save for one single lamp in the corner of the room opposite you, but even at that, the dim bulb provided only enough light for you to see the corner itself.
Panic set in. Your dry throat let out a hoarse cry, and a metallic taste flooded your tongue. You prodded it against your lip, feeling a split in the flesh. A drip fell from your upper lip to the floor, splattering the sullied cement with red. You felt another drop slipping from your nose, then one down you cheek.
Your hands guided themselves to your face. A hiss of anguish erupted from your tense jaw as you touched an open wound over your left temple. Where the fuck am I? What happened?
You stood up, hearing a tinny clang. You took a step forward, but something stopped you. A force around your ankle pulled your foot out from under you, and you fell face first to the floor.
Groaning loudly, you braced your hands against the floor. You pushed up, feeling something squish a bit under one of your palms. Eyes narrowed, you began to adjust to the darkness as you pulled yourself up on your knees. You focused in on what your hand had been on, and you immediately wished you hadn’t.
The object on the floor was just under a foot long, slightly shriveled and a pallid shade of grey. It had five protrusions, the end of each dotted with a vivacious lavender color. Oh god… It’s a foot. It’s someone’s fucking foot.
A scream of pure, unadulterated terror echoed off the walls, crackling in your dry throat. Your hands flew to your mouth, covering it. The smell of decay and bleach radiated from your hands, and you couldn’t choke it back this time. You felt the familiar burning in your stomach, and you turned away. Your hands supported you against the wall as your stomach relieved itself of all its contents. Your entire body trembled as you heaved a few more times, spitting to try to get the taste out of your mouth. You wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.
A sudden groan startled you more, and you pressed your back to the wall, readying yourself, if necessary, to fight. Shuffling filled the silence, followed by a similar clank. You whimpered, then held your breath, avoiding making another sound. A voice called your name, filled with dread and distress.
“Is that you? Where are you?” You immediately recognized the voice as your husband.
“Chris?” You called, feeling your way along the wall. He repeated your name, and you saw slight movement coming from the direction of the voice. He was running his fingers through his cropped blonde hair.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are we?” he asked, panicked. You shook your head, not that he could see.
“I’m okay, Chris. I’m alright.” You reached as far as you could before straining the shackle on your ankle. Chris was fighting with his own, struggling to reach you. He was close enough to hold on to your hand. He gave it an assured squeeze.
“I’m gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna get out. We’re gonna be okay,” he promised. There was a slight creak, followed by a slam. Your eyes darted to the one wall you couldn’t see clearly.
In the blackness, there was something darker. The silhouette was human. A dark, dry chuckle corrupted the air, and there was a loud bang. You felt his hand fall from yours, his body tumbling to the floor. Another bright muzzle flash put your own body down, with you still reaching for your husband.
You bolted upright, a cold sweat dripping from every pore. Frantically, you searched both sides of you for Chris. His side of the bed was empty, the sheets drawn back. A vaguely recognizable terror welled up in your stomach, and you leapt to your feet, propelling yourself out of the bedroom. You steered yourself down the hallway, hearing a clatter in the kitchen. A glass clinked against the faucet of the sink, and the tap was turned on. You rounded the corner, wiping tears from your face, and spotted Chris standing there. He was leaning back against the counter, a small glass of water in his hand.
“Chris…” you muttered, your fingertips clawing at the tears pouring down your face. His turned to a mixture of concern and unease. The glass found the countertop, and he rushed across the kitchen, gathering you in his arms. One of his hands found the back of your head. Sobs wracked your body as you clung to him, fisting his shirt in both hands.
“Ssshh… It’s okay. I’m right here.” His voice was calm and even. The muscles in his arms clenched and flexed as he tightened the hold on you. “What happened? Another nightmare?”
You nodded into his chest, terrified of letting him go. Your heart pounded against your rib cage, threatening to punch a hole through you.
“You wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, threading his fingers through your hair. You shook your head, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Hey, you’re okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”
His affirmations helped to push the vivid images from your head, and the sobs finally subsided. He loosened his grip on you and you looked up at him.
“I love you so much, Chris…” you murmured. He pressed a long, chaste kiss on your lips, muttering how he loved you too. His body parted from yours for a moment, and Chris pushed his glass into your hand.
“Drink, love.” You did as you were told, albeit shakily. He pressed repeated kisses to your hairline, slowly tracing your spine with his fingertips. “You wanna go back to bed?”
You shook your head adamantly, telling him you’d never be able to go back to sleep after that. He nodded hesitantly.
“You wanna watch a movie then?” His deep voice vibrated in his chest as you leaned your head into it. Chris took that as a yes, slipping his arm back around you. You finally allowed yourself to relax a bit as he guided you into the living room.
He snagged your favorite comedy off the top shelf of the entertainment center, popped it in, and stretched out on the couch, pulling you down on top of him. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, throwing it over the top of you both, you wrapped his arms back around you, keeping you securely to his chest, and before the movie has even halfway over, you’d been lulled back into a dreamless sleep.

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