#I'll never get over the green jacket he had on it suited him very well lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

3d-wifey · 1 year ago

Note

can i get a list of your favorite lines you've written for And they'd find us in a week?" (posted or otherwise)

You added in my dms that you meant my fav lines in each chapter and sure!!!! but it's gonna be longggg and it'll only get longer. I'll stick to posted chapters so I can avoid spoiling anything and add to this post as I post more chapters! Feel free to send in your own fav lines, I'd love to know!!!!

Chapter 1

A few of these flowers are shipped to the Capitol to be used aesthetically, you’re sure. Such an odd thought knowing the rest are used here only for funerals.

Something neither of you had any real hope of happening, but you understood the gesture for what it was. He wanted you to bring him back to his family. So you protected it with your life, literally. And now he’s home.

A breeze comes through, shaking the leaves in the tree and cooling you from the humid heat. You like to think that it’s Cane’s way of thanking you for not forgetting him.

They mock your voice, clapping like you’re a dog that did a trick. You smile around the embarrassment. Maybe for your next act, you’ll play dead.

You remind yourself to make a conscious effort to bury the accent, sound a little more like them. The old you wouldn’t give a damn about how a Capitol perceives you, but the old you didn’t get pawed at nearly as much as you have tonight.

As a warning, you swung your scythe in wide arches, but he ran at you and the blade slit his stomach open. You think he did it on purpose, knowing how it would end for him. You put him out of his misery with his own knife.

“Have you been having fun?” He picks, certainly nonexistent, lint off the shoulder of your dress. Is your eye twitching? It has to be. You want to place a hand on it to tamp down the spasms, but, instead, your nails dig into his shoulder through his suit jacket.

“What? Are you not enjoying your time in our great nation's capitol?” He deadpans. Your mouth tries to twitch into a smirk and you smother it down.

You suppose no amount of muscle can combat an axe to the back of the spine.

“Touché.” He concedes with a nod, his smile still in place. Or at least you think he does. You aren’t entirely sure what touché means.

"So, you do know who I am." His lips shift into a shit-eating grin, preening as if he caught you in a lie. He’s probably used to people fawning over him, and that’s something you’d never do. Be that as it may, you can acknowledge that there might be something worth fawning over.

He tilts his head with contemplatively narrowed eyes. You narrow your eyes right back simply based on the fact that he did it first.

This, being with Finnick, is a breath of fresh air in comparison. He may not be Eleven or from any other district that’s similar to yours, but he is District. That’s gotta be worth something—some kind of kinship.

Chapter 2

You had tried to listen closely when he first started talking, but—well, okay, that’s a lie. Everything these Capitols say goes in one ear and out the other. Actually, it doesn’t even make it as far as the first ear.

“Finn!” Thank god. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” You exclaim in the most sickeningly saccharine Capitol voice you can muster. He stares with wide blue-green eyes, bemusedly mouthing ‘Finn?’ at you.

You only have a few seconds to wonder what the hell an eel is before Finnick takes your glass out of your hand and hands it over to the sputtering man.

That is a good question. One with an answer Finnick doesn’t want to look too closely at, though it might—scratch that, it definitely has something to do with your big watery eyes staring up at him ingenuously.

So maybe, he lets himself think, maybe you’re safe.

There's a small, prideful grin on your face that he doubts you even know is there. But he does. He is very aware of it.

You tilt your head, smiling up at him and his ears go warm. This is probably the fifth time he's talked to you and you've never smiled at him like that before.

You pout up at him and it’s the most unfair shit Finnick’s ever seen. Made even worse by the fact that you’re defending him. To himself.

Someone unburdened with the fact that Snow was right, they are more similar than he'd like to admit. Because Seeder may have a family that relies on her, but Finnick can't find it in himself to care. He'd put her in the arena himself if it meant your safety.

Chapter 3

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote.

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

“I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you.”

You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“Wolf, meet bone."

He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor.

But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow.

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile.

You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another.

You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him. But you do. You really do.

There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear.

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do.

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus.

"Who else is he forcing to do this?" … "You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose."

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?"

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe."

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle, “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works.

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her.

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people.

It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate.

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out.

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see.

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it.

Chapter 4

That Avox is taking a piece of you, red smeared on white, and it'll be washed away. Absently, as if through water, you hear the door shut and you're scared that you'll never be whole again.

Your first instinct is to find somewhere to curl up, but the bed is out of the question. Logically, you know it's clean, you saw it happen. But it feels like a crime scene, like something died there.

The door doesn't look much different from your own. You don't know what else you were expecting.

You don't know if you've ever made a choice that wasn't out of necessity and you find that you want Finnick to comfort you.

It slides open to reveal Finnick with his sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his hair a mess, and his face painted in exhaustion. You can't help but think he looks awfully soft. Softer than you ever thought you'd see him.

"I don't know why I thought you'd be awake. I guess I just assumed...," You shake your head, having no excuse other than wanting to be near him, "I don't know what I assumed. I should get back to my room. I'm really sorry for waking—" "Wait," he calls out as you start to back away, "You can come in, we can–I don't know, we can talk." He generously offers, sounding almost nervous. But what about you would ever make him nervous?

Sleeping in Finnick's bed after everything somehow feels worse than sleeping on your own. Because it may be a crime scene, but at least it's your crime. It feels almost disrespectful to sleep where something of Finnick's died too.

If you were a star, burning bright miles and miles away, nothing could touch you. Not the memories that haunt you, not Snow, not your clients. Nothing.

Your eyes widen and you don't know what to say. There's a certain level of repulsive irony with the person who guaranteed your survival being the first person to treat you as something less than human. If this is how you feel now, you can't even imagine how Finnick must have felt. Fourteen and alone. At least you have someone to lean on, someone who's going through the same thing you are. All he had was himself. But he has you now.

"Don't downplay what you've gone through, Finnick. You don't have to put yourself down for me," You face him head-on so he knows you mean it, "You shouldn't put yourself down for anyone." He looks up at you again, but this time he doesn't look away. There's no point in playing a game of 'who has it worse'. That's not what you came here for.

How can he be expected to save you when he never saved himself? You're sure he knows there's no magic fix to this. But that's an answer you know he won't accept. Because…because he cares about you, he said so himself. He wants to take your pain, but it’s not transactional. Besides, even if it was, you wouldn’t want him to take it all upon himself. This pain is not transferable, this pain is yours to share. You’ll keep a hand on his wound if he keeps a hand on yours.

Maybe you can staunch the bleeding together.

"I'm sorry...I know me saying that doesn't make much of a difference, but I am." He's wrong. He has nothing to be sorry for, but the apology softens you. You scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. "Me too," you whisper. He hesitates before laying his head on yours, "I'm sorry, too." You hear a sniff above you, but you don't comment on it. You just let go of his pinky and lace your fingers together instead. His palm is rough against your own and it grounds you. When you're down here, pressed against Finnick's side, you're okay with not being a star.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe someone about yay high," he raises his hand about an inch above his head. Then, flips his hair over his shoulder dramatically, "Blond, built like a Greek god."

He's what you imagine having an older, older brother might be like. As such, it feels more than a little awkward whining about your pitiful love life, or lack thereof, to him. "Me and Finnick," you say, and, like the gossip he is, he hangs on to your every word, "There is no me and Finnick." Anymore.

"I'd imagine it's the same reason Peeta volunteered for you." He exhales through his nose like he doesn't want a reminder of what happened only a handful of hours earlier.

You aren't surprised, in all honesty. Looking back on it now, it’s odd to think Snow was right when he said he did you a favor. Because you’ve gathered secrets of your own. Morsels of information that you've coveted like rubies, plucked from the mouths of your high society clientele.

That entire inner monologue in 4 where you think about Rue and Thresh. Honestly makes me tear up everytime AND I WROTE IT.

And maybe, just maybe, it would mean they didn’t die in vain. All of your kids that you watched march to their deaths—their deaths that would mean something. Leading you all to this very moment. "Alright." You decide, as if there was ever any other option for you. Insurgency is in your veins. Your father was a part of the Movement like his father before him and his father before him. It’s what got him killed. And it seems like it’ll do the same for you.

Maybe you're a little dense, but you don't see how that proves that District Thirteen wasn't nuked to hell and back. Some of that skepticism must show on your face because he sighs and sets his glass back down.

You ask. You already have in mind who you hope will be on your side. You think of callused hands and soft green eyes and wonder if you could ever raise a weapon against him in the name of the rebellion.

Friends isn't the word you'd use, but it's hard not to form a sense of solidarity with the person you often get requested to have threesomes with.

"With love, huh." He whispers to himself and smiles.

And you gave them freely, even after Finnick ran out of ones to trade. It’s odd. You wanted nothing in return. Sometimes, he gets a little ahead of himself and wonders if it’s because you like him.

It isn’t too far-fetched to assume that, right? Right.

To just call you a friend feels like calling an ocean a pond. It's almost disrespectful to condense it into something so lacking. He can’t force you, and everything you make him feel—into such a small box, it would only overflow and drown him. You are much, much more than a pond.

Best friend, then? While true, it feels too juvenile. He considers it and he doesn't particularly like the idea of just being your friend anyway. He imagines you introducing him as such.

“Oh, and this is Finnick. My friend. Only my friend.”

No. No, he doesn’t like that at all.

"Do you think she'll like it?" He asks her. He wants to bite at his nails as she looks over what he made, but refrains.

'She'll love it. :)" She writes and he hopes she’s right.

He can't help but find joy in the fact that he still knows you well enough to predict what you'll do. And he'll get to see you again. Really see you. He shouldn't be happy about that under these circumstances, but Finnick is under no illusion of being a good person.

"Kid, I don't wanna say this is sad, but it's not, not sad." Finnick rolls his eyes at Haymitch's unwelcome opinion. Should he be embarrassed to be caught in this position? Maybe. Probably. Yeah, he definitely should be. But he gave up his shame a long time ago.

"You sure?" He leans his head on the hand that's propped up on the arm of the chair, "Not even a certain someone from Eleven? What was that nickname you gave her—Star, right?" He asks with that same tone he always used to take on when teasing Finnick about you.

When he started turning away his clients' money, they were desperate to pay him atonement so their consciences wouldn't be weighed down by their sins. You came up with the idea. Money wasn't worth its salt to a victor. But secrets? Secrets were cashed in gold.

"You can't have fire without air, right?" He asks rhetorically. "Well, we won't have Katniss without Peeta. She won't help us without him."

And just like that, whatever illusion of choice Finnick thought he had is stripped away with the mention of you. Every path he takes leads back to you. What a heartening thought.

Abruptly, he gets a faint whiff of your scent caught in his head like a flashback. Hovering in his nostrils as faint as a memory. It is a memory. But if he goes through with this, maybe it doesn't have to stay one.

Freedom looks like being by your side, loving you fearlessly. Finnick's never felt true freedom before—the closest he's ever gotten to it was when you touched him. He doubts it can feel much better than that.

Chapter 6

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

You say nothing to him as you edge out of the crowd and he supposes you don’t owe him an explanation, but it leaves a pit in his stomach to watch you walk away.

“Oh. Hey?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, the letters curling and drawing out at the end like he’s just discovered the human language.

“Ah, there’s the blushing bride!” Haymitch half shouts—half cackles, halfway into a bottle of expensive Capitol wine. He ignores them, which only makes them crack up harder. Finnick is nineteen years old, and as they laugh behind him, he actually feels his age for once.

You take a step back from him. He didn’t even notice when he got so close and gravitated to you, he never does.

“I don’t understand. Wh–what’s wrong?” Because there’s definitely something wrong. Your body language is closed off. You’re never closed off around him.

“Do you feel like you’re settling?” He asks, doing, in his opinion, a pretty good job of acting like his heart isn’t hinging on your answer.

“What?! What, of course not.” You look at him like he grew a second head. As if his question isn't completely reasonable given how you're behaving.

The big green chair is the backdrop behind you, and it really is an enormous chair.

There’s nothing quite like being paraded before crowds of adoring fans while dressed in a caricature of your district.

You joke, but you really wish you were at least given some kind of underwear. It’s not exactly warm in here and that draft is reaching places it shouldn’t.

If you make any sharp movements, you’ll be flashing your ass to all of Panem.

He makes to lean against the horse but thinks better of it when she scuffs one of her hooves on the ground rather threateningly.

Your and Katniss’s whole convo by the chariots

There’s a fishnet draped across his torso and knotted low around his hips similar to how your skirt is tied. It’s very thin, with very spacious holes.

Your tongue will always remember the shape of his name, but you’ve forgotten the taste of it. It’s bittersweet.

Chapter 7

He nods over your shoulder to Caesar, who’s looking especially orange today.

They have him in the closest thing to a suit that he’ll tolerate and his blond hair is artfully coiffed. You miss how it falls naturally, and you’re sure he feels the same. The makeup they put on you makes you feel like a mannequin. Stiff and shiny, just the way they like you.

You and Finnick smile and greet the masses like you were trained to. You wave your hand open and closed, and Finnick doesn’t wave at all, instead nodding to the crowd.

He doesn’t ask a question outright, but you understand what he wants you to answer. What a pitiful beast you are. What else about you can we feel sorry for?

“Very sad, very sad indeed,” the room fills with sympathetic murmurs that make your eye twitch. You don’t need their pity, pity won’t bring him back. Pity won’t stop it from happening to someone else. If they used that same pity to stop injustices before they happened, then maybe these people would actually be worth something, “Alright, let’s get into some games, huh? Yeah!”

A clock ticks ominously behind you, probably a new fixture. It bluntly cuts the silence. You would have noticed that before. You think.

“My colleagues speak very highly of you.” He pulls a white handkerchief up to his mouth and coughs into it. It’s a wet, violent cough that rocks him in his seat. It must hurt and you know without a doubt that the white of the fabric is blood red now. Good. Hopefully, he’ll cough up a lung soon enough. He dabs at his mouth before pulling it back to his lap, almost like he’s hiding it. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

“Come now.” His smile stretches across his face like a coyote’s, though it’s twice as sharp. You bite at the skin of your peeling bottom lip. “You’re a smart girl. You should be able to infer what’s happening without my telling you.” You do. You had just hoped you misunderstood, that you were being overly paranoid. After all, you have an intimate relationship with hunger, and not just your own. You’ve seen that look before, more times than you can count. On the faces of particularly crooked Peacekeepers, handsy landowners, and ‘well-meaning’ teachers. And now you see it again on the face of your President.

They all have something in common: they thought they were above you and your savagery. They thought you were some animal, that you should feel lucky that they even looked your way.

So distinguished, so self-important, and, yet, they lust after an animal like you? And you’re supposed to be the savage one? You wish you could enjoy the irony.

There’s a smell emitting from him. A smell you’ve only smelt in rotting animals: decay. The rose in his pocket and the roses around the room can only cover so much. It’s the poison, it has to be. All the poison he drank while getting rid of his political rivals has finally come back to reap its judgment. He’s decomposing from the inside out. The consequence of having so much power, it seems.

It doesn’t matter how much makeup or what kind of dress you put on a pig. At the end of the day, it’s still a dirty, stinking pig. You just hope, when the day comes, you’ll be around to see this pig get gutted.

From this high up you can hardly hear yourself think, finally. But barely, just barely, you can make out Finnick’s voice. You’ll always be able to recognize that voice. The sound is almost as much of a part of you as it is of him.

You’re whole and solid in his grip. You’re safe. God, you’re safe.

Neither of you speaks. Which is fine. There’s no space for words between your bodies anyway.

You barely duck in time to avoid the staff from hitting your head and Finnick’s grip on the trident tightens.

For as long as Johanna has known him, she’s known him in conjunction with you. There’s no point in acting like that’s changed.

“Good luck.” She pats him on the back with far more force than necessary and walks off with an axe in hand. Probably on her way to traumatize a trainer.

“Besides, if they’re listening in on anyone, it’s Princess and the Baker over there.”

Dear Finn,

If you ever fear the weight of my absence—close your eyes, take a breath, and feel me beside you. I’m still here.

-Faithfully,

Your Star.

Chapter 8

Actually, just all of 8 and 9. From beginning to end.

Chapter 10

They make sure to teach all about it in school, making sure students know just how far their district fell. Once a powerhouse worthy of rubbing shoulders with the best of them stands one of the most ‘primitive’ and militarized districts in the nation.

You remember what it feels like to be hungry. To be forced into the orchards to harvest pears, apricots, and Mandarin oranges—some of the only crops that can weather the cold, small hands stiff and your stomach numb with pain as you endured the freezing winds. You had friends when you were younger, other children that worked alongside you. Very few of them survived through the winter.

You have a system in place. You’ve been doing these deliveries for a long time. You trust them to distribute the goods to those who need them the most. Everyone here looks out for each other. Even if the kids aren’t theirs, an adult won’t let them go hungry if they can help it. It truly takes a village. You would know. After all, you used to live here.

What use is a horse with a broken leg?

“And you,” you lean back as she wags her finger in your face, “inherited that mouth from your daddy. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“Just start looking out for yourself more, alright?” She asks and you agree with a scowl, you refuse to call it a pout though Finnick definitely would.

You try to picture a world where the two of you ended up together, running the bakery until you’re old and gray—maybe if you hadn’t been reaped. But you can’t imagine a universe where you aren’t in love with Finnick Odair.

Seeing him sitting behind your big mahogany desk is akin to seeing a fox in a chicken coop. It’s dangerous—foreboding. Nothing good can come from it. And for him to be so comfortable in the spot where you write your letters to Finnick makes your skin crawl. It’s wrong. He shouldn’t be here, in the one place that's truly yours.

Under the weight of his unrelenting stare, you eventually shake your head no and it feels like admitting defeat. Like you’re not smart enough to catch on to his train of thought and you both know it.

“Of course, you don’t.” He tsks, disappointed. You lower your gaze, embarrassed. He stands and takes poised, measured steps to where your feet are rooted to the floor. He towers over you, literally and figuratively.

"You have mail." He smiles again, sharp and cruel in its kindness. It's still sealed, held between his middle and pointer finger, but you're certain he knows what the letter says already.

I got the picture you sent me. I worry I’ll wear it thin with how often I touch it. In the absence of having you near me, I trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the slant of your eyes. I carry you everywhere I go.

My hands should be in yours, fingers laced together. Instead, I use them to write to you now.

He glances behind him and spots the biggest fishing boat in the district. The Cod Be Ever in Your Favor. He scoffs.

He’s crossing his fingers that the old relic capsizes one day. He’s not hoping anyone gets hurt or anything, but he will be celebrating the day that hunk of junk gets turned into scrap metal.

He pauses, taking a few steps back to see…President Snow sitting on his couch?

“No, Sir, I don’t.” He lies, but he’s sure Snow will give him his own twisted, convoluted reason. Finnick is well aware that Snow enforces this rule because it keeps the citizens ignorant. Ensuring they only really know about their district means there can be no real unionizing.

Snow releases a raspy breath that might have been a laugh once upon a time and the water is getting hotter.

"Don't act daft, Mr. Odair. It doesn't suit you."

He's twenty-two years old—a grown man, but, suddenly, he’s fourteen again—sitting in that chair, backed against a wall as Snow forces him to sign his soul away. He’s still that scared kid. He’s never outgrown him, because he never got the chance to grow up. Not if Snow had any say in the matter.

“As I said, this can only end in pain. It’s up to you to decide who will end up bloody. The lives of thousands over the life of one. Surely, you understand that.” He doesn’t. Finnick doesn’t understand it at all. It doesn’t matter what the other option is, he’s picking you every time without fail. He can’t imagine doing otherwise, he doesn’t want to.

To love is to be human. To be human is to be flawed. And there’s no one more flawed than Finnick Odair.

“You’ve been around longer.” He shrugs as if it’s all so simple. “It only seems fair.” Fair. When the hell did he start caring about what’s fair? He didn’t even think that word was in Snow’s vocabulary, and, honestly, it still might not be because he isn’t using it right. There is nothing fair about this situation.

Snow uncrosses his legs and leans forward, a glint in his ghastly eyes. He looks worse every time he sees him and Finnick wishes he could get any satisfaction from it but he just feels as sick as Snow looks.

The words are out of his mouth before he can even comprehend them, mouth moving faster than his brain and by the time it catches up, it’s too late to snatch the words out of the air. They float between them and they are terrifying.

Snow nods at the idea and…and he realizes it’s over. It’s all over. It was over as soon as Finnick sat down across from him, maybe even before that.

“And Finnick?” He pulls away before Finnick can take it from him, playing with him even now. “Go easy on the poor girl. I imagine she’ll be quite torn up over this.” The water is boiling. The water is boiling and it’s too late to get out.

Chapter 11

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’. Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Finnick’s letter

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know.

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken.

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same.

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs. Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected.

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway.

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

"My love, my star. My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star.

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver.

"Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift.

But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick. And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory.

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it.

It sounds like a goodbye.

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry.

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes.

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous.

He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now.

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “The message was for you!”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God, it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy.

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight.

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes.

The entire elevator scene

Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition.

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this? What could have possibly been worth giving you up?

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now.

He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is.

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten.

And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is.

I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #and they'd find us in a week #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick #finnick x reader

31 notes · View notes

radioactivepeasant · 1 year ago

Text

Snippet Thursday part 2: Blackmail Au

First

In which Jak has to learn how to properly take care of curly hair

It turned out that the king of the Wastelanders was a little less intimidating when he was arguing with Sig. For all that he retained his commanding presence, with or without his armor, the low stakes of the disagreement seemed to soften him into something more human.

"I'm just going right back to the city again tomorrow!" Sig complained, "I'll do Wash Day when I get back."

"The rot you will," Damas retorted, pointing a comb menacingly at him, "We both know you'd rather shave your head than bother with Wash Day. Just get it over with and you won't have to deal with it for another two weeks."

"Come on, man!"

"You're setting a bad example for Jak," Damas said smugly.

Sig's nostrils flared. "Ohhh you rotsucker. That's not fair."

"I don't have to play fair on Wash Day."

Jak and Daxter watched the back and forth with growing amusement, especially when the indomitable Sig capitulated with some very creative expletives. Why was he making such a big deal out of washing his hair? Daxter washed twice a week if they could get the soap for it. Jak...didn't wash as much, but he tried to at least rinse off the sweat.

"It's just washing hair, how long could it take?" he snorted as Sig dragged out a low stool in front of the sink in the corner.

"An hour at least," Sig grumbled.

"An hour? For hair?" Jak sputtered, "Why would you spend that much time on it?!"

Sig looked at him. Damas looked at him. After a moment, Damas sighed.

"Well, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Damas reached up and fiddled with the crown piercings, sliding them out of tiny metal ports in his skull with a soft click one by one. He set them on the table and distractedly waved Jak over.

"Hair like ours requires more care than your friend there," he explained. "I somewhat doubt you like running around with your curls all knotted and broken together like that. Hasn't anyone ever showed you how to care for them?"

Daxter scoffed. "Self-care was never high on Samos's priority list of subjects to teach us."

Curious but cautious, Jak edged closer to the table to look at the jars Damas had set out. Oils, creams, some kind of soap. Were Damas and Sig really going to use all of these? He picked one up and examined it closely, smelling coconut.

"That's the last step," Sig said, plucking the jar from his hands unexpectedly.

Jak blinked. Without his hood and armor, Sig looked...weird. His hair was close-cropped, but not shaved; olive green coils somewhat smashed into the shape of his helmet. Daxter snickered from behind him.

"Hat hair!" he whispered.

Sig was not amused. He yanked open the first jar of oil and applied it liberally to his hair. "Just do as I do, cherry. No commentators from the peanut gallery."

Damas followed suit with an impish smile altogether out of place on his stoic face. "This is why I don't do helmets."

"Because your head is too fat for them?"

Damas paused in rubbing the oil into his locs to narrow his eyes at Sig. "I know how to override your door lock, you know."

"Oooh I'm so scared. Whatcha gonna do? Shampoo me to death?" Sig taunted.

"I could do that. Or I could add something to your ammunition pouch."

"Add what?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Add what, Daym?"

"You'll find out."

Jak raised an eyebrow at the two grown men behaving like, well, like him and Daxter. They seemed distracted, and he was curious, so after a moment he gave in and poured a handful of oil into his own hair. Presumably they'd wash it out next.

He was wrong.

Thirty minutes he had to sit with the oil soaking into his hair, bored out of his skull. No wonder Sig hated doing this! He couldn't even leave the room, because he didn't know where to find another sink! Equally bored, Daxter started rifling through Jak's jacket pockets until he came up with the bag of trail rations.

"Wanna play Kill-Grid?" he asked, holding up the bag, "Nuts versus beans?"

"We don't have a grid," Jak pointed out.

Sig leaned forward. "Kill-Grid? What's that?"

Jak shrugged. "It's a game we played a lot back in Sandover. You make a grid of sixteen squares. Twelve pieces on each side, the middle row stays empty."

Daxter opened the bag to see if there were enough nuts and beans to even play as he added, "It's...kinda like checkers. Except the board shrinks if a whole row gets cleared out."

"Yeah! If every piece in one row gets captured, you erase that row and make the grid even smaller. Whoever has the most pieces left when there aren't any more open spaces is the winner."

Just speaking about the game seemed to lift a weight from the boy. Damas saw life returning to his eyes, and he actually sounded like a fifteen year old ought to for a moment. Sorrow clawed at his guts like an animal trapped inside. This was his son, his firstborn, and a complete stranger. A young boy who seemed to only barely remember that he was meant to have a childhood. Who didn't even know basic self-care.

"Time's up," he said, gently interrupting the explanation, "Time to shampoo."

"Finally!" Sig huffed.

The chamber fell silent save for the sounds of water splashing and soap squishing into curls. Jak watched Sig with wide eyes, earnestly mimicking every step as best he could. Cross-legged on the rug, barefoot and barefaced, he looked...he looked like he belonged there. Like he always should have. Damas watched his lost-and-found child's face morph into surprise as he discovered how easily his fingers slipped through the tangles now. It wasn’t so very different from teaching Mar to wash his own hair. Just how neglected had Jak been? Damas couldn’t help wondering if Jak and Mar were on equal footing in their knowledge of how growing up was meant to be. It wasn't right for a boy to be so unused to kindness. It wasn't natural.

"Y'know," Daxter remarked, "I really didn't think your hair was that long?"

Jak shrugged helplessly and fumbled with slippery, wet hair, trying to put yet another round of oil into it. Before, it had brushed against his shoulder blades, bulked out with matts and snarls. Now it hung nearly to his waist, and he was getting tired of it sticking to his fingers.

"Ugh," he groaned after having to return to the oil jar yet again. "Sig, can I borrow your knife? I'm not doin' this."

Damas shot Sig a dirty look as the taller man snickered.

"What, ah, whatcha gonna do with it, cherry?"

Jak raised a brow. "Cut it??"

With some effort, he gathered up the thick hair into one fist and gestured to about three inches. "Look, that's gonna get tangled in my holster. I don't wanna deal with that."

"We have scissors, you know," Damas pointed out.

"Knife's faster."

Damas paused and blinked. Somehow, Jak had turned out more like Sig than Mar had, and Mar was the one who actually shared blood with him! As grateful as he was -- overwhelmingly, shatteringly relieved and grateful -- that of all the people to have taken Baby Heart under his wing, it was Sig, he could have done without Sig’s impatience for hair care being passed along.

Even so, there was no bite in his voice when he muttered to Sig, "He gets this from you, doesn't he?"

"I apologize for nothing," Sig joked.

He pulled his knife out and handed it over to Jak.

"Let Daxter do it, kiddo. He can see the parts you can't."

"Fair enough," Jak agreed easily.

"If I get buried in this stuff, I demand financial compensation," Daxter warned as he was passed the knife.

"That's going to bounce up shorter than you think, you know," Damas commented. "Especially with the extra weight taken off."

"Hey, as long as it's not in my face or wrapped around my gun, I don't give a crap," Jak answered. He leaned back on his palms to give Daxter better access to the long curls.

"What was I supposed to do after the second oil soak? Is that it?"

"You can stop there," Sig begrudgingly admitted, "But in your case it...probably would be better to do one last thing of cream, since you don't wear a helmet like me. It'll protect your hair later."

Jak made a face, and Sig didn't blame him. As a boy, Sig had never been the most patient individual. He'd learned plenty of patience over the years, but when he was off-duty? He couldn't help some of the old instincts to just get it done and over with.

It was a good thing his mama couldn't see him right now. She'd box his ears and hold his head in the sink to finish the Wash Day herself. Selda had never let him get away with neglecting himself. Sig supposed he would have to start channeling his mother to ensure that Jak didn't continue to neglect himself.

Daxter set down the knife and examined his handiwork critically.

"Mm...well, it ain't stylish, but you don't look like you let a blindfolded batfinch style your hair, at least."

Damas made a little harrumph in the corner as he wrapped up his own application of a heated oil.

"Oh. Right. I need to change the batfinches' water tonight."

"Come again?" Daxter asked.

Sig picked up a wide-toothed comb and shrugged. "Damas keeps an aviary. He's got- what are you up to now, seven different species in there?"

"Ten, actually," Damas corrected. "The tavus eggs finally hatched. I had to get a pair of rock hens in order to hatch them, though."

"Rock hens? From the mountains?" Daxter asked, wrinkling his nose, "What's a rock hen got to do with peafowl?"

Damas’s eyes lit up with the prospect of actually talking about his birds.

"Rock hens will brood over anything even vaguely egg shaped," he said.

With a click he began setting his crown piercings back into their ports, gesturing now and then as he did.

"The incubators were hatching the peafowl eggs, but without other galliformes, the tavus chicks weren't surviving."

"You got them foster-moms," Daxter guessed, "Right?"

"I did!" Damas smiled. "They're doing quite well, so far."

Daxter stretched up over Jak's shoulder with a serious look. "We're gonna go see those birds, right?"

"After the flut-flut thing?" Jak teased him.

"They're already hatched! I don't gotta worry about gettin' mistaken for anybody's Ma this time!" Daxter argued. "Besides, I'm only goin' for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, mister "I'm just good with animals"!"

Jak wasn't sure yet. Going to this guy's aviary -- which he talked about with the same enthusiasm Jak used to feel about his bug collection -- felt like it would lead the man to start acting more buddy-buddy with him. Jak wasn't interested in that. He wanted his little brother back, and then maybe they could talk boundaries. But...there were baby animals. And...

He really liked baby animals.

They didn't shy away from him, even when he was in his dark form. If it weren't for animals like the city yakkows and the crocadog, Jak would probably have believed what everyone said about his dark side being some kind of mindless animal.

"Hhh. Okay. We can see the tavus chicks," he agreed, rolling his eyes.

Damas looked so pleased that whatever was left of his intimidating image dropped and shattered on the floor.

If he could find something in common with this boy -- something other than their mutual protectiveness over Mar; a boy his age had no business being made a parental figure to his sibling -- then perhaps they could start over on a better foundation than "I thought you were in danger so I had you kidnapped from Haven City". Even if that had definitely been the right call at the time.

First

<Prev

#jak and mar are separate people au #fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #dadmas #king damas #free day thursday #Kill-Grid is loosely based on a Shoshone game i read about Tuknanavuhpi #it's called Tuknanavuhpi and it sounds pretty fun tbh #damas has an aviary and loves his birds. don't ask him about the birds. he'll never shut up about the birds.#jak secretly gets sappy over baby animals #i wish I'd known some of this hair maintenance stuff when i was a kid RIP my 3A ringlets 😅#my edits #made Jak out of Sokka and the Dragon Prince Ezran's hair #i had the same attitude towards hair at 15 as Jak and i Have Regrets now lol #dad sig #damas and sig are platonic life partners but can be read as ship

33 notes · View notes

starkslove101 · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 10: "Ah, there it is the bitterness"

2012.

I got out of the car. I put my keys and my wallet in my bag as I walked to the main hall of the Airport. I looked around, trying to figure out with what company I was going to fly. It shouldn't be much of a choice. I Should've stolen Tony's private yet for a few hours. This shouldn't be a big problem and I didn't think he'd mind either. Perhaps If I asked nicely. He'd give it to me.

I was never good at running away and it has been proven to me time and time again. I grabbed my phone and dialed Tony's number, Lucky for me he immediately picked up.

"Took you long enough" I laughed.

"Can I get the jet?" I knew he had a massive grin on his face.

"Oh, you're good" Tony laughed.

"I know I wanted to ask first, seemed like a waste paying for a ticket"

I walked to a coffee shop, with one hand in my pocket and the other holding my phone against my ear.

"I'll get someone to fly you there" I heard something falling on the other side.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm working on a new suit" Tony grunted as he picked up whatever he dropped

"Of course, you are" I scratched the top of my head, shifting nervously.

"What else do you want?" he asked as a chuckle escaped him.

"You know my suit I started making?" Tony hummed.

"Finish it for me and put in this emerald green color," I said. "Okay, but you used all of your wishes now" Tony joked. "Really? I thought I got three wishes" I bit the nail of my thumb. Tony laughed.

"Consider it done, go catch your flight sweetheart" I smiled at the nickname he gave me.

"Thank you, tell Steve I'll be back in two days and to only call in an emergency. That's not a question" Tony laughed. "Yes, ma'am now you have used all three of your wishes" He hung up the phone before I could protest. after a while, I grabbed my coffee and my bag and went to the gate. When I got there the pilot and the stewardess were standing there waiting for me. "Hi, thank you for coming so fast" I shook the pilot's hands. Followed by the steward. "Not a problem, ms Evans" I finally got on the flight.

3 hours passed till' we landed in Washington D.C. I spent it sleeping. I figured I was going to need it. "Ms. Evans, we're going to land soon" I jumped up by the touch with a soft voice she apologized I just shook it off.

I nodded, and put on my seatbelt. After we landed I grabbed my stuff and headed to the door. But not before I said my thank you's.

I walked down the stairs onto the tarmac. A black Mercedes was waiting there when I got down. I stood there for a second, checking it out. A man dressed in a black suit opened the door for me. His hair was combed back and he was wearing an earpiece. An American flag pin was hanging on the jacket of his suit. "Sir" I grabbed the bag on my shoulder closer to my body. He opened the door. I looked inside and saw Peggy sitting there.

"Peggy" My voice was soft. I got in the car. "Hello, darling" She spread her arms. I hugged her. "It's so good to see you" she squeezed me a little bit. "You look great," Peggy said. "Thank you" I smiled sheepishly. The last time I saw her was when I first arrived in 1999 and I only saw her very briefly. She was a busy woman back then. "You don't feel so great" she pointed out. I wasn't surprised by how fast she'd pick up my feelings. She was a spy after all.

The car drove off and I fell back in my seat. I shook my head. "I have all the time in the world now," she said, a soft smile on her face. I turned sideways one leg on the seat and the other on the ground. I started explaining everything that had happened. Well, not everything. I left some of it out. I figured that some parts wouldn't go over well.

I also told her about my powers. Not an inch of emotion on her face. "You don't look surprised?" I asked. She shook her head. She smiled again. Her smile was so familiar that I had this aching in my chest for the time I had missed. "Could you perhaps tell me more" I grabbed her hands in mine. I sounded so desperate.

"Of course" It wasn't a very long drive from the airport to her house.

I was about to open the door but the driver was first. Peggy laughed. "I'm guessing Tony doesn't have people opening doors for you?" she laughed. As I recall you refused to have doors opened for you. I thought to myself. "Of course I have." I laughed. "If it were up to Tony he'd wrap me in blankets and never let me go" Peggy looked at me with amusement as I got out of the car. Peggy walked towards me and hooked her arm in mine. Just like we used to do. This time it felt different. Nostalgic. "Sounds like his father," she remarked. She grinned. "Stop it!" I shook my head laughing. "He's more careful though" I spit so harshly that Peggy looked away with a guilty look in her eyes. I instantly felt guilty but I couldn't ignore the fact that I was still Bitter about everything.

We went inside. She took off her heels and threw them somewhere in the corner like she always used to do. Some things never change. We made our way to her living room. "Show me what you brought" I looked up a bit surprised. Peggy laughed. "You're not good at controlling your body language" She reached out her hand. I grabbed my bag and took out everything I brought.

Peggy sighed when she saw the papers.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I remember this" she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I had this discussion with Howard 20 years ago" I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Tony remembered something like this. Why were you arguing?" Peggy frowned. Her eyes darted away. She was thinking. "I don't-" she touched her forehead. She started panicking and I wondered if she had been struggling with other memories for a long time. "It's okay, there's no pressure" I reassured her. The panic in her eyes disappeared.

"Do you remember something about project freedom?" I asked. She looked at the documents again. She asked the same question to me.

"What do you already know?" I sighed. "I've heard and seen multiple things. They don't match with what I remember" I said as I scratched my head. Still trying to piece it together.

"My mom got this shot called extremis. She was pregnant with me at the time. She passed away after I was born" I started. "But-" I looked up and made eye contact with Peggy. "I don't know if it was a dream or a memory. But I remember something in the likes of my mom taking care of me and then it flashed to her grave" I felt very uncomfortable.

The only thing I could do was pace. Peggy's eyes were focused on me. "I was two years old. My dad was holding me. He stood there crying" Peggy looked at me with a sorry look on her face. "So to answer your question. I know nothing" I said as I sat down. It was silent for a minute.

"Do you know Aldrich Killian?" I asked. I tried to read her face for a reaction. Nothing. "I knew his father and his son came with him sometimes," She said. She stopped for a minute. "Last Time I saw them was 1979" She looked around. "What is it?" I asked. Peggy grabbed the file again. "There's a part missing, How did I not see this before," she said. "I think I have it somewhere" She stood up, looking around.

She walked into a room. There were a bunch of books. She pulled most of them off the shelves. "Can I help?" I asked. She ignored me. I had to dodge a few books and papers. I just stepped to the side. "I'll be in the living room," I said and went sat down in a grey chair.

After a few minutes, she returned. "I got it!" she walked in and threw it on the table. "Here's your answer" She showed me a page. It had everything about me on it. Including my picture of me as a child. I was 2 years old. I've never seen this picture.

I flipped through the rest of the pages. "Extraction successful" it read. My heart was beating faster. "Extraction of what?" I started rummaging through the papers. Peggy had this guilty look on her face again. "What did they extract?" I threw it down. "A.I.M killed my mother didn't they?" tears were streaming down my face.

Then everything clicked. They took everything away from me. "Was Roger Evans even my father?" Peggy looked away as she shook her head. "Then who is?" I asked. My hand over my mouth.

"Oh, Darling. I'm so sorry" She stood up and hugged me. I fell into her grip. My head laying on her shoulder. "We're going to figure this out. I'll pull every string I have to help you" she said, grabbing my face in her hands.

She wiped away the tears from my face. "I promise" I just kept crying. I held it in for so long there's no way I could keep it in any longer. I pulled her into a hug again. "I'm so sorry I needed this" she caressed my head.

"It's alright, darling" she swayed me from left to right. It comforted me. "Stay with me alright" her voice was soft. "I said I'd be back in 2 days. They're going to come look for me" My voice cracked. "I'll make sure you're safe" she hugged me.

"How much do you know about your powers?" she asked. "I know what it is. I just don't know how to flick it on and off" I admitted. "Did Shield help you?" she asked. "No" I looked away. "What did they do?" Peggy straightened her shoulders.

"3 days ago" I started. I looked away thinking for a second. "I'm going to tell you the whole story. Please don't kick me out" she smiled. "Go ahead." At that time someone came in. A plate with some tea on it. "You know we found Steve a year ago," I asked. Her eyes softened. "Yes," she grabbed her cup of tea and blew on it.

"We live together" I blurted, scared for her reaction. To my surprise, she just smiled. "I know" She took a sip from her tea.

"Not so sound very creepy but I've been keeping tabs on you and Steve since you two returned" I wasn't surprised. Of course, she did.

"Right," I shifted in my seat. "Anyways" I grabbed my cup of tea and sat with my legs crossed, facing Peggy. "3 days ago we were called in. They wanted to talk about project freedom. Fury said he wanted to help and as they were talking, I had trouble taking it all in." I sighed.

"They wanted to make sure I wasn't Sick" I made bunny ears at the word sick. "I wasn't having any of it. So, I walked out but guards stopped me. They put on this collar it took all my energy away" I shoved my hair out of the way and showed my neck. Two small bruises were forming, a constant reminder of where I was pinched.

"All I could do was scream" I sat down with my cup as I couldn't stop shaking. "Steve and Tony came in to rescue me" I sighed. "After I was gone Killian told Steve that I have something he wants" I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Makes sense, right?" she asked. I frowned.

"No, not really" Peggy reached for her head again.

"Peg, are you okay?" I was worried.

"Yes, I just have a headache" I stood up and crouched down next to her.

"We can take a break. Go rest" I was expecting her to protest, but she didn't.

"Do you need help?" She shook her head. "No, darling. I'm just going to lay on my bed"

I nodded. "Of course, take your time" she walked off.

I sat down again. I grabbed my laptop from my bag. Trying to kill some time until Peggy woke up. With all this emotion my head was feeling like it was falling apart...

Next part

3 notes · View notes

dearcraziness · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 81.

On one sunny and slightly cool day, the devils were walking along the Boulevard of Serenity, pleasantly talking about recent events and sharing their impressions. It seemed as if their conversation had no beginning or end - communication flowed so easily, naturally.

Sweethearts were discussing their hobbies, plans for the future, their experiences of the past week. Their voices evoked a mood of harmony, illuminated the surroundings with joy, bringing pure fun to the surroundings.

The conversation of the wizards was heard by a brunette passing nearby in a business suit, with a gold watch. However, the bright light green colour of the jacket and trousers and the stains on the suit gave the young man a cheerful look, however, he smiled especially brightly, animatedly, when he caught the sound of the voices of the devils out of the corner of his ear.

He came up to them and spoke hurriedly, "Wow! I've never seen such a magical conversation before. Your voices are perfectly matched, and what a contrast! Low timbre and high, loud sound and quiet. Like two opposites. I'm sorry, I interrupted you at a very bad time, but I ought to offer you to take part in the program 'Good Morning, Black and White City!', visit radio hosts at least once, you'll certainly like it! I dreamed of it myself, however, my voice isn't clear enough, so I'm looking for the ink fellows for this responsible profession. Our town adheres to traditions so much that after so many millennia, the residents still have a radio! Can you imagine? Well, what do you say? Do you agree?"

Bendy and Lara stood in silence for a couple of moments, looking at each other, then the young man answered, "Of course we do, sounds fantastic. What time should we come?"

"The audio program starts every morning at nine, but first it's better to rehearse, get used to the magical equipment. I'll only take a couple of hours from you."

"Okay, we agree." the girl answered.

"Splendid! Believe me, I'm infinitely glad! For an irresistibly long time I searched for similar voices, but to no avail. And suddenly you appear, the long-awaited luck! Of course, each of the radio hosts have their own memorable manner, their unique style is able to charm the audience, but personally I was captivated by your mutual understanding, which lies in your voices."

Sweethearts were confused at first, but thanked Mark for his sincere, albeit somewhat surprising, words. After all, the young man and the girl always listened to each other with pleasure, really happily noticed their interpenetration of souls.

The recording studio turned out to be small, it looked like it was in friend's house. Having dealt with the microphones and studied tomorrow's text, the demons spoke their words with natural feelings. Soon Mark introduced them to his colleagues and good fellows; at two o'clock in the afternoon, the wizards agreed on the time of arrival, wished each other a great day.

Returning home, the devils told the guys an unexpected turn of events and explained about several changes in their schedule. Boris and Alice promised to take over cooking at least several times a week, so as not to strain Bendy, nevertheless, the young man initially denied, assuring his fellows of the need to remain the old way of life. Others didn't accept the refusal, sincerely expressing their desire to help, to ease the imp's routine. The wolf reminded about the possibility of using magic in cooking and cleaning, his friends supported his ideas, and everyone immediately felt better. In addition, sometimes the musician really resorted to magic spells in order to spend more time with the creatures dear to him, especially with his beautiful Lara.

The next morning, the young man woke up at his usual time, watching his sleeping fiancee. The hands on the clock showed six - there was no need to hurry.

It was nearing nine, but the girl didn't get up. The demon has already managed to make pancakes with raspberry cream and brew ginger-honey tea. He went to the bed, sat on his knees, gently stroking the head, the hair of his beloved and kissed her on the forehead, quietly saying, "Good morning, sugar... Today, your gentle, soft voice will finally be heard on the radio..."

"And also the sound of your low powerful timbre, darling..."

"Perhaps it's worth telling about our vocal abilities... After all, we love to sing, we often record our own melodies, perform compositions by other musicians..."

The first day as radio hosts turned out to be successful, surprisingly easy for the wizards. Enthusiastic Mark thanked his new friends for turning the program into a bright morning message for early-awakened listeners. They agreed to put songs performed by devils on the air for the next time.

After a couple of weeks, sweethearts got used to spending a couple of hours working, which obliviously was like a hobby for them. The musicians could improvise, change phrases written in dialogues. One day they got so carried away without noticing how the time of their conversation began to get out of the established timeline.

"Sir, it's time for us to turn on the 'Happy Tune'," one of the employees, Kyle, turned to Mark. "We need to give them a sign to wrap up."

"Of course, I have everything under control."

The young man in a multicoloured suit began to wave his hands, whispering unintelligible phrases. When he was noticed, he pointed to his watch - the sign was quite obvious. The guys quickly got their bearings, smoothly moving to the end of their speeches.

Bendy and Lara were walking until the evening, watching the dark blue sky, which acquired purple, pinkish shades. The streets were empty, but the silence didn't cause fear - on the contrary, it turned out to be incredibly pleasant and magical to wander along the stone paths illuminated by tall lanterns.

After a month of work in 'Radio Happiness', the devils agreed to take a break, however, without refining the duration of their absence. Mark, although somewhat upset, wished his friends a good day and said that for them the positions of radio hosts will always be free. In gratitude, the musicians presented remarkable gifts to all employees and, after saying goodbye, returned to the old routine.

"Finally, we are drawing our favourite landscapes again! The mountains are so marvelous, it's very calming to paint them..."

"Indeed... I'm glad to get back to my old routine..."

"I really missed the days when we were alone, just the two of us... Now we have more time for heart-to-heart conversations... And a whole eternity for sharing our vivid impressions, intimate secrets..."

"Last month was so eventful that now is the time to take a break..."

"You're right, starlight, you and I did a great job!... Your voice definitely brought smiles to the listeners' faces!..."

"We are both wonderful radio hosts..."

"Do you know why?... Because we choose exciting activities for us, expressing our sincere desire to make others happy... Of course, first of all, I want to bring joy to you, strawberry... Your preferences are in the first place..."

"So are yours..."

"I adore your laconic sentences..."

"You just already said everything, as if you felt my thoughts are almost the same..."

"You're right, I feel you with all my heart... Every year our connection becomes stronger..."

After a minute Bendy said, "Lara?... You don't mind one more question?..."

"Of course I don't, ask..."

"Recently I read in a book on witchcraft one remarkable spell which works exclusively for ink creatures... It's called "Absorption" - it probably sounds creepy, but in fact it means deepening the connection between kindred spirits... We could try with your permission... I didn't quite understand from the description how it works - together we'll figure it out faster... Your opinion is very important to me, just tell me how do you feel about such an amazing magical phenomenon?..."

The young man looked attentively at his beloved - suddenly their eyes met, bestowing invisible warmth and care on each other.

"I agree... I'm quite interested in your story..."

"Alright, dearheart, I'll go get a book in order to make sure the words of the spell are remembered correctly..."

An impressive-sized reading with a blue spine soon lay open on the beloved's table. The musician whispered a couple of barely audible phrases, stopping with his eyes at the end of the sentence.

"I guess I'm ready... Darling, you just relax - the spell will work naturally..."

Bendy approached Lara from behind, taking her hands in his palms. In an instant, the girl's arms seemed to sink into the ink of the young man, disappearing from sight. The wizards' eyebrows rose synchronously; the eyes of the young man and the girl stopped on the yellowish plank floor, on which the sun's rays were trembling. The moments flew by, and the devils stood motionless, trying to collect their thoughts.

"An indescribable feeling... Sunshine, I physically feel your tenderness, your calmness..."

"Wow, I can now control your hands..."

"That's right, unexpectedly brilliant... Berry, looks like our rapprochement is gaining momentum..."

"I couldn't say more precisely... Hmm, what an interesting bright spot on the curtain..."

"It appeared a week ago, violet, at the moment of our sweet creative madness... At the end of cleaning, I noticed a rainbow circle on the curtains, but decided to leave it... Let there remain a visible memory..."

"Okay, fluffy, although, I hope you do clean the dirt on the fabric..."

"Blossom, don't even doubt it!... It was an exception - I was overwhelmed with sentimental feelings... Perhaps I'm too impressionable..."

"Not at all... Just be yourself, that's exactly what I need..."

"You have no idea how much confidence your words of support give me... Love you very much, Laura... Adore you and your personality... You're the only one who knows all my secrets..."

"I only trust you completely... Moreover, I'm convinced you won't condemn me, devalue my interests..."

"Larry, and no one else would dare, otherwise they will have to deal with me... You and everything you value is priceless, don't even doubt it... Did someone write you unkind messages on the Magic Network?..."

"No, besides, I have a private account..."

"You are a magnificent, delightful person, sunny... Others will confirm my words, for example, our friends... Even strangers often smile at the sight of you... For so many years, I've been convinced more than once you have a dazzling character; every quality of you, every part of your personality admires, inspires..."

"How nice... For the rest of the world we're quite ordinary, but for each other we're incredibly magical, miraculous..."

"Apparently, the world also considers us special, unique... However, only we see each other's special magnetism, you're right, sweetheart... We have created our own excellent world... Even close friends cannot fully see our emotions during our conversation... It's so ravishing to find a soul mate with whom you can be yourself... And I'm indescribably happy I met you at the very beginning of my life... Together we'll be walking the path of eternity..."

"I think I can feel the ink flowing through your veins more and more... So soothing..."

"Glad to hear, fishy... I, in turn, feel the light movements of your neat fingers... Grace, refinement, peace, relaxation are your most noticeable qualities... But I'm also not averse to listing all the others..."

"No need, lemon, last week you described me in sufficient details..."

"I'll certainly write another volume of the book about you, strawberry... I'm ready to talk about you, with you, for hours, for days... However, you need sleep - so there should be breaks between conversations..."

"You need rest as well, orange..."

"You are my main cure for melancholy, cinnamon... With you, I relax for sure..."

The drops of minutes dissolved in a cozy silence, leaving freshness from joyful memories. There was a yellow moon in the sky, shining as if with its own light, not reflecting the rays of the sun. The devils were so comfortable in each other's company that they almost forgot about dinner. After removing the spell, Bendy's arms seemed to have acquired a semi-liquid state, causing Lara to frown.

"Don't worry, Laurie, I'm great... It doesn't hurt me at all..."

"Seems like the opposite is happening..."

"Maybe, but you have nothing to worry about - I really feel good... With you, it simply cannot be any other way..."

"You are a master of giving compliments... And valiantly perform noble deeds..."

"You know, I value you, your happiness... Therefore, every day I strive to express my gratitude to you, tulip..."

"Believe me, I really appreciate your care... I don't need anything else..."

"You're unimaginably modest, honey, I noticed... You remember I'll do everything for you, don't you?..."

"Yes, I don't even doubt it, ginger..."

"Splendid, at first I was worried if you were insecure or distrustful... Even if you doubt me one day, I'll prove the opposite to you, peony..."

Sweethearts embraced, exchanging quiet phrases. What were they about?... Perhaps, let it be their secret...

#bendy and the ink machine #fanfic

0 notes

thekillingjoke-haha · 4 years ago

Text

Angel With A Shotgun

Summary: The Novak family was big talk,but not nearly as famous as the L/n’s. Togther they can be unstoppable,so what say family ties like guns,drugs,money,and murder?

Paring: Michael!Dean x Male!Reader

1900's Mafia/Gangsters AU

A/N: this is a Micheal fic,but its him in Dean's body so like...idk its the same snake different skin. Also Chuck is referred as Charles

Warning:Blood,guns,knives,gore,torture,swearing. Homophobic comments like just a few. No proof reading

⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑆⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑈⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑇⑈⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑈⑇⑉⑆⑆⑆

The Novak's that a family that was one of the most feared yet respected. The way people talk about them down south you'd think they were inspiration for the Bible itself. A man by Charles or Chuck Novak is the head honcho with five sons to help him run is kingdom.

The youngest is Castiel he was probably the nicest of all his siblings,but also the most protected with three other brothers, Gabriel is the definition of trouble and if he slipped up head could easily get lynched good thing he puts that silver tongue to work. Raphael was one of the more head strong,but sadly he was shot when several rivals attacked at on of their bars. Lucifer is the second oldest and the most hot headed with a temper to match the black sheep in his family if you will, then last,but not least Michael he was something else entirely the play boy,a demon is a flat cap and tailored suit.Now that the Novak's have been introduced the world's most feared gang the L/n's is one family not to be fucked with.

(Father's name) leading his kingdom no...empire with his wife (Mother's name) and togther they had only two sons. The second born William and the oldest M/n. William wasn't much involved with the criminal side of the business,but his big brother was the prime example of a gangster. No one besides the L/n gang has seen him he stays out of newspaper coverage and that only allows his terror to run ramped. A man with no face and a title of Satan himself made the oldest Novak just a little timid when he found out. "WHAT THE HELL!!!" Michael threw the newspaper on his fathers desk in anger the older man looked up after glancing at the paper. "I'm due to be wed to a L/n and none the less a man! I can be hanged for so much as saying I do and it IN THE FUCKING BULLETIN!!!" He was seething with hatred in every word. Michael will admit it hurt a lot finding out he was to be wed by the slight disgust look he got while grabbing the paper before getting coffee. "I wanted to tell you sooner,but you were handling something. There's no way out of this a deal was made before you were born me and (Father's name) have been waiting for his wife to bare a girl or your mother to do the same,but your mother's untimely passing and (Mother's name) having gone unfertial our oldest are due to wed." Chuck sighed taking off his thin wired glasses.

"You two were once friends,but I guess time got rid of those memories." Chuck sat down his spectacles down looking at his son. Michael turned to father with shock evident in his eyes. He was friends with M/n L/n the man with no face. Everything was too foggy. The shorter male stood up to a shelf in the office and grabbed a small match box opening it looking around before pulling out a picture. Handing it over to his son he sat back down. "He was one of the only people you'd go to when you were a baby. Heavens he was probably the only person you liked,but when he was five and you were three the fact that our business was centered around blood and there's on bonds it became a fight,mafia versus a gang, and you guys saw eachother less and less till around the time Luci was born not at all." Chuck sighed. The young man was in shock a little boy maybe two or three was cuddled up to a baby in a pale blanket that he remembered was blue fully awake and if the picture could come to life he's sure the boy was humming all while rubbing the infants back.

"No ones seen a picture of him in twenty six years and he was on his fathers hip with a match box car. He's in town and should be coming for dinner here by himself in three days time. So til then keep your brothers in check we don't need them to shoot the young man with a stray bullet." With that Charles dismissed his eldest son as the green eyed boy stormed off in a huff. Michael started to do digging. M/n L/n was in headlines weekly in every post known to man from shootings,assassination,and gangbanding to rumors of his love-life,what he wears,and people claiming to have met him. One thing caught his eye that made him falter. "Gangsters M/n L/n Captures Murderer" that when he started reading the full paper that crumbled a bit due to age. Maybe he's not so bad the guy he caught never saw a courtroom,but met a far worse end all because he caused problems with his people. It was admirable the brunette knew he'd do the same,but not just for anybody. Marriage wasn't settling well with him that didn't mean it felt completely wrong.

One day later

Looking in the mirror Michael watched as his maid adjusted his tie while another smoothed the wrinking in his white button up and vest of his three piece suit. As the oldest he had business to handle people to keep in line. When their hands left his body they scurried out of the room rushing to be down stairs before him. His dress shoes met the floor as he grew closer to the door his youngest sibling ran up next to him. "Can I come,please!" His raven head of hair and doe blue eyes almost made him cave,but with a firm look he gazed down at him. "Sorry little raven,but I have things to handle another time." The pout on Castiel lip didn't move as he held up his hand his pinky out. "Promise?" Interlocking with the ten year olds pinky. "Promise." With that he happily skipped away to play in the garden.

Out the door he went. His flat came on his head and coat thrown over his shoulder his effects tucked in his waistband. Screams caused him to smile as he stood before the butcher on payroll. He wore the man's leather apron having abandoned his tailored suit jacket in the front of the deil. "Were is my money?" He cut the man some more as he continued to scream in pain the white fire from the rusted meat hook in his shoulder flaring with each jerked motion. "Help please!" He yelled all of a sudden in the past hour he hasn't called for assistance. "No can do." A deep voice said behind the oldest Novak turning around sharply his green eyes clashed with e/c. The man looked like anyone off the street his shoes tattered and clothing dirty form labor no bet. "I came for my five notes." The didn't seem fazed at the torture. "Fuck you gypsy scum!!" The pig of a man responded as the tall s/c man crept closer gripping a knife Michael was using. "I just unloaded a load of meat in the summer heat that would give the devil a sweat and all I asked for my effort was five notes nothing more nor less so cough of the money that you clearly owe both of us or I'll carve it out of you and make you squeal like the piggy bank you are." His tone dropped further the blade under the man's fat chin and the Novak felt aroused at the threat. This guy meant every word when the hanging man spat in his face the off color of snuff and blood made the normally clear liquid seen and thick. Let's just say Michael sat back crossing his legs in a attempt to compose himself as the man hit pitches not even the girls in the church choir could master. The heavy weight man forked over the money then some I got my full and he ended up giving the mystery man a hundred notes if he made the pain stop after pocketing the money he shot the man.

He turned around and began to leave when the brunette stopped him. "Wait! I give you my thanks friend he was stubborn for a hour almost" The h/c man turned looking at him giving a smile tilting his head for the Novak to follow as he stepped out the deli. Scrambling he walked down the street next to the man their attire clashing a well tailored suit next to rags that looked more like a potato sack then cloth. "Glad I could help a fine looking fella like yourself." His flirtatious grin caused butterflies to run ramped in Michael's guts. As they walked down the street they slowly moved from the good side of the town to the slums. No cars drove on the gravel a fire hydrine spat out water for all the children playing around it,women hung up clothes on wire between tenements and men looked more like the mysterious gypsy next to the Novak. Speaking of the mystery man he went to each crowded tenements door and knocked the women or young men of the families came to the door and he handed over twenty notes each. The women cried and clung to his tall figure and the boys almost men looked at him in wonder like a hero before running off to tell the adults of the place. "Why did you do that?" Michael asked as they walked out of the town. "You worked for that money and gave it all away." He was confused he's never seen a man work for a family that wasn't his own.

"They need it more. Schools out the children don't get meals and the men work hard to feed them at least a meal a day. I'm alone here no lover or children with the energy and muscle to work." Novak wasn't sure before,but he was sure now this was love and it felt better then any harlot he could spend the night with. "Thats very admirable of you." Michael complmented which was not a normal accuracy. "It was truly nothing to admire,handsome. I'm not saying I'm amazing,but sometimes I'm decently above average. That's what people need someone decent enough go care."

Before he knew it they were back on his side of town and getting closer to the business. "It's been a pleasure,Mr. Novak." The man dripped his head as he turned to leave somewhere. "You know who I am and I don't even get a name." He turned back around and got closer to him his chest pushed up against his till he was pinned to the wall he leaned down his lips so close to his face just out of reach. "I'm N/n,but you can call me the man of your dreams." Michael almost leaned up to peak his lips when the warm body pulled away taking with it the lust filled tension. N/n turned and left out of sight that night was full of the man tossing and turning dreaming of the e/c man that made him feel high as the clouds above. N/n smiled as his men drank around him he finally saw his baby boy all grown up and he's taking what's his this time.

Two days later=Six Hours Before Family Dinner

The buzz of the New Yorker coming to Kansas was the rage. Any man that was new in town was watched like a hawk by commoners and the Novak's. Michael was no longer looking forward to this marriage he didn't want this man no matter who he was. N/n stole his heart like a petty thief and ran away from him. No one in Kansas knew who he was a s/c skinned,h/c haired,e/c eyed gypsy was all he had to go on no last name just a image that burned bright in his mind. Michael sighed as he left his office and went down to the bank he needed enough cash on hand to throw away on booze and maybe angel dust. People parted for him like the red sea and he easily got money when gun shots went off. The teller in front of him fell to the ground wounds ridding his body and Novak turned to see men...no boys with guns.

"Everyone get down on the ground. We've come only for the money we won't hesitate for blood as well." The group chuckled as the leader smirked people shook as they easied to the ground all except Michael who stood tall. "Ah! If it isn't Michael Novak no men to protect you now." A man he didn't realize came behind him hit him over the head with his gun causing him to fall to his knees. "Pathetic." The band of thugs leader grabbed the Mafia bosses chin looking and the blood coming from his brow. Someone stood from on their knees a flat cap covering their hair and a long trench coat that was only slightly open. "It would be in your best interest to leave,boys." They all train their guns at the man. "Why's that,you motherless bastered?" The man turned his gaze upward deadly sharp e/c orbs looked at him and Michael was in shock it was N/n. "Cause I have twelve guns ready to blow holes in you and your men." After his words ten men stood up all wearing the same clothing flat caps,overcoats,and suspenders with a Tommy on every man except the leader. The cowardly man looked frightened looking around keeping his gun on the s/c man. "I only count ten I still have the upper hand." N/n gave a devilish smile that made Michelle gaze on love struck and excited for what's to come. His gray trench coat hit the floor and two sawed-off shotguns in each hand. "Upper hand you say?" He pulled both triggers the left one killing the man sending himself flying back and the right killing the man behind Michael blowing his brains painting the tan walls this made the others fire as well. The bodies of the criminals and one civilian litter the floor.

N/n sent the men off to get the people out as he walked up to the bleeding Novak. "Thank you." His green eyes gleamed making the standing man give a grin as he held his hand out to help him up. "Consider it a gift from M/n L/n." The gleam disappeared from his eyes his soon to be husband was in town has been in town and set his men up to keep him safe. "Now if I'm not mistaken you have a dinner to get ready for,pretty boy." He takes the handkerchief out of his waist coat dabbing the blood away. "Will you be there?" Michael voice sounded weak so full of hope. "You can count on it. We'll be seeing eachother alot more." The man stood up and quickly left and not a moment later Mafia men came in running tending to the boss. Looking longingly at the piece of cloth (Your Initials) were sowed into the reddend white square of fabric.

Family Dinner was about to start the Novak's sat at the table Charles sitting at the end his three eldest sons to his right while his youngest sat to the left two spots were available one across from Michael and the other on the opposite end of Charles. A maid came in the dinning hall and cleared her throat. "The L/n's are here." Two young men came through the door one taller then the other the shorter of the two sat across from Michael while the other sat at the other end of the table closest to Michael and the other man. Charles smiled at them both and Michael was in a state of shock. "M/n been a long while hasn't it?" The oldest Novak looked at the man infront of him waiting for a response when the man he thought to be just a gangster working under the L/n's answered. "That it has Chuck. Sorry father couldn't come he had some other business to handle." N/n or M/n now to Michael's knowledge said before placing a hand on the man beside him. "This is Benjamin or Benny my right hand man don't mind him." The man gave a nod of acknowledgment his blue eyes piercing. "Heard about the blood bath at the bank quite impressive from what Michael has told me." A side smile and a teasing look was turned the mentioned Novak's way. "Saw low life scum trying to rob the place and touching what's mine,their little toys they call guns were child's play compared to my men." M/n sent a wink addressing the men hitting Michael from behind.

"Are you a knight that saves people?" The youngest asked his blue eyes wide in wonder. The s/c males eyes turned to the child a warm smile gracing his lips. "Sometimes when I want to be." A bubbly giggle rang out. "You saved Mikey making him your prince." Those words caused different reactions from all the men. Gabe covered his mouth trying not to laugh at his older brother,Lucifer grinned leaning over to his brother. "Did he have to kiss you sleeping beauty?" He chuckled lowly making kissing noises in his ear,Micheal was beet red as he couldn't bear to face any of them,Chuck smiled looking at his son and son-in-law,Benny nudged his boss sliding something to him while everyone was distracted. "Yeah and I'm gonna make him my king and take him to my castle." M/n leaned towards the boy and whispered in his ear. "We'll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after." Castiel was gobsmacked as he gazed at his brother all giddy he was gonna live a fairy tale like in all the books their mother use to read. "Um if you'll excess me. I need some air." Micheal stood up and not long after M/n followed when given a reassuring nod from Charles.

The garden of the estate was beautiful in the moonlight and it wasn't hard to spot the oldest Novak on a bench on looking the pond that reflected the night sky. "You knew the whole time who I was." Micheal didn't look up at the man as he sighed. "Yes I knew who you were...we were once closer then the stars and the skies itself." The L/n sat next to him on the bench looking forward. "Chuck knew as well." Michelle turned in shock at that statement a goose chase for nothing. "He didn't know what I looked like now,but letters everyday asking about you seemed to do the trick." Those e/c eyes turned to look into those apple green ones. "Learning from a young age that in you grasp was the person you were due to wed was shocking I almost hated you,but the moment you grabbed my finger as if I'd slip away made me realize it can't be so bad." M/n held out his hand palm up so the younger male rested his hand in his grasp. "I was afraid at first you'd hate me. So I swore to protect you always. Some of my men live here with their families and they keep me posted. Just last year a rat was found on you door step admitting his faults."

Micheal remembered that the maids came rushing to get the family and a man bloody and beaten spilled his guts about planning to cross the family having been hired by a rival Mafia to get information to attack them at a weak state. "I know this won't mean munch to you know,but maybe at some point you'll be happy to carry my last name and call yourself my husband." In M/n hand that wasn't interlocked with Micheal's he opened a box revealing two wedding bands both were silver while one had a gold trim and the other had a f/c trim. "No matter what,Novak,I'll be there when yiu need me through it all most of the times guns blazing." M/n chuckled lightly taking in a deep breath. "Just ponder on it,pretty boy,I'llbe here waiting." as he slipped the ring on the silent man's finger before doing the same with himself he gently kissed the top of his head as he stood up and left wanting to give him space. Micheal smiled at the ring that perfectly fit his finger. The one man he felt attracted to was his guardian angel always there no matter what.

Lifting his hand up he kissed the metal band as a laugh left his lips. "My angel with a shotgun."

⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉⑆⑉

A/n: Second Male reader and I had to spell check for almost 50 she/her in her so I think I got them all lol.

@spnquotebingo

Quote: "I'm not saying I'm amazing,but I'm decently above average."-Blacklist @spnquotebingo

124 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Nine

chapter nine

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: date night!! this is very fluffy, very emotional and extremely horny. edgar allan poe is rolling in his grave at what they did in his enchanted garden

exhibitionism, public sex (no ones there tho), drug mentions at the end (let me know if I should tag anything else!!!!)

word count: 5.4k

from the beginning <3

He spent all of Thursday afternoon with Penelope in Richmond, setting up for his date that night.

Stringing lights on the trees, mowing the grass and trimming the flowers back, the staff ensuring that the museum was in pristine condition for them tonight, it was perfect. The cats were brushed, there were rose petals the fountain and the most beautiful picnic set up in the garden.

Penelope packed their dinner for them, keeping it in the museum fridge for when they finally arrived, it was the only thing Spencer needed to remember.

Y/N: just got home, about to get ready! Can’t wait to see you at 6 ♥︎

Spencer smiled at his phone, about to text her back when Penelope laid a hand on his back, “change into your suit and head back to her, traffic might be bad?”

“Thank you, for everything. You’ve always been my best friend, more of big sister actually,” Spencer pressed his lips together tightly as to not get emotional. “You’re wonderful Penelope, thank you.”

“Awe!” She swooned, wrapping him up in a big hug. “I will always love you, Spencer, you deserve all of this and so, so much more, now go before I cry.”

He laughed, pulling back, hand lingering on her shoulder as he walked into the museum. They let him change in the backroom, it felt incredibly strange to be putting on a suit inside Edgar Allan Poe's house to go pick up his wife. Not too long ago he dreamed about bringing a girlfriend here someday, life was moving too quickly, he needed a breather.

He kept his suit jacket folded and on the passenger seat as he drove home, where he lived with his family. Even just thinking that as he paid attention to the road made him smile. The wind hitting his face, his hair blowing in the breeze, he felt free at last.

He was where he was supposed to be, all roads lead to here.

Travelling up her driveway with a smile on his face as the dust followed him to her doorstep. She was waiting in a red dress on the porch, Amoreena and her nanny eating pizza on the steps as they waited for him.

Stepping out of his car, he straightened his tie and pulled his pants up more, looking at his wife like she was a star plucked from the sky, landing in this Virginia field for him.

She stood then, her satin dress flowing and exposing a leg as she walked down the steps to him, “Is this what you wanted?” She twirled in front of him to show it all off, her hair getting stuck in her lipstick and making her laugh.

“I love you,” is all he can say as she leaning in with a wide grin, surpassing the smile to kiss him gently, using her thumb to get all the lipstick off his bottom lip and chin.

“Love you too, cutie,” she winked, taking his hand and turning back towards Amoreena, “listen to Nanny, remember we love you and we will see you no earlier than 7:30 tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am!” She saluted, mouth full of pizza.

“And what are the new rules about coming into our bed in the morning?”

“Knock first, wait till you respond, don’t come in unless you say it’s okay,” Amoreena replied, sticking her tongue out at her as she remembered it all.

“Smartie pants,” Y/N smiled at her, “come give us a hug, don’t get pizza on my dress, please.”

Amoreena wiped her sleeve over her mouth before running into her mother's open arms, they shared goodbye kisses before it was Spencer’s turn. She held him so tight it felt wonderful, “goodnight Lovey, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, have the best sleep ever for me?”

“I’ll see you in dreamland,” she replied, kissing his cheek gently before she pulled back.

“Have fun!” Nanny called from the porch as Amoreena skipped back to her.

“We will,” Spencer replied, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her to the passenger side, he opened her door and helped her inside, insuring her dress was inside before closing the door.

Jogging back to his door, he got in and put on his seatbelt. He threw the car in reverse and turned around by the barn, heading down the driveway, not saying a single thing as Y/N stared at him.

“You’re really not going to tell me anything?” She shook her head, licking her lip before biting it as she huffed.

“We’re going to Richmond, Virginia, to read,” he gave her one hint.

“Hmm,” she smiled, “I’m sure you won't tell me the title, so Mr. I can remember every book ever, what’s a random line in it?”

“You’re smart,” he teased her, “but for the brilliant green of the huge leaves that spread from their summits in long, tremulous lines, dallying with the Zephyrs—”

“We’re going to the Edgar Allan Poe Museum!” She cut him off with a cheer.

He slows down on the barren dirt road, mouth wide open as she got it right, he turns to her as they come to a complete stop, “how the heck did you get that?”

“Yes!” she laughed, tossing her head back as she clapped and kicked her feet a little, so proud of herself, “I’m a librarian, Spencer! Did you think I wouldn’t know Eleonora?”

“That’s the most random sentence in the whole poem?” Spencer was shocked, she recalled it faster than he thought he would be able to if she read a line to him.

“My brother’s first motorcycle was a Zephyr,” she smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “My brain is kinda like a filing cabinet, if you give me a word I can remember everything I’ve ever heard with that word included.”

He started to drive again, shaking his head as he paid attention to the road but still astounded by how amazing she is. “Amoreena gets that from you then, she could have both our eidetic memories together, that would be very interesting to see.”

“Eidetic memory?” She questioned.

“It’s what most people call photographic memory,” Spencer explained. “You can remember everything you hear which is why you and Amoreena are able to recall songs, books and movie facts so fast, while I can read back to you anything I’ve read without having to see it again, it’s forever in my mind.”

“So we’re both geniuses, cool,” Y/N smiled at him again, “sorry I ruined your surprise.”

“You just know where we’re going,” he reminded her, laying his hand on hers, interlocking their fingers as he drove.

They had an hour alone before the real date started.

So she showed him all of her favourite songs, including some of Amoreena’s playlists so he could get familiar with them before their trip to Rhode Island. Her voice was impeccable, she knew all the words and harmonies, often opting to cove background voices he wouldn’t have even known were there if it wasn’t for her.

She loved music in a way that intrigued him, she enjoyed music with a story. Much like the reason she loved books so much, she enjoyed picturing the happy places in her mind that the songs were able to take her to, they filled her with glee and hope as she sang to her heart's content. Taking short breaks to explain the meanings of songs, to recite the best lyrics and why the songs are close to her heart.

“Do you want to hear the song that reminds me the most of you?” She asked between songs, pausing so that nothing else would start.

“Sure,” he blushed, nervous for what it could be and how she imagined him in her mind, hoping he could live up to it.

“I'm perfectly fine I live on my own, I made up on my mind, I'm better off bein' alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes,”

She stares at him with a beautiful smile as she waits to see his reaction to the opening, finally singing when the beat drops, dancing softly in her seat as she belted the words out to him.

“So prove to me I'm your American Queen, and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat, and we rule the kingdom inside my room,” She brushed her hand across his jaw, teasing him as the words flow from her lips to his ears, she loves him and he can feel it with every syllable.

“And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for, King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa! And all at once, you are all I want, I'll never let you go King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa,” she sings so softly, with a purpose, turning it down a little so that he can talk to her.

“I love you,” he reminded her, “so much it hurts sometimes.”

“It’s like your heartstrings are tugging on each other, right?” She agreed, “like they want to jump out of our chests and run to each other.”

He nodded with a soft smile, reaching for her hand again holding it as he brought it to his mouth for a kiss, “queen of my heart.”

“Hmmm,” she thought over his words, “I’m pretty content with being princess still, Lady Amoreena is in line for the thrown, it’s part of her namesake after all.”

“Does the kingdom have a name?”

“You know the Elton John song Goodbye Yellow Brick Road?” She waited for his nod, “my grandma called it Ozellous so it’s like wizard of Oz but I added the 'ellous' because people always said they were jealous of our farm.”

He’s trying his best to keep his eyes on the road when all he want’s to do is look at her smile, to see her pupil change as she recalls the loving memory, it’s his favourite thing to do. Better than any movie or play, seeing her face was better than looking at the most expensive art piece. He was so in love with all of her.

“Were you like Amoreena as a kid?”

“Oh yeah,” she laughed, “bullied hardcore for it too, kids always told me to shut up cause I’d add facts to conversations I wasn’t a part of.”

“I would have loved to listen,” Spencer replied softly, knowing the feeling all too well.

They were only a few minutes away now, turning into the small town and passing quaint little homes and cottages. “Amoreena would love this drive, these are some interesting townspeople homes for her imagination, we should come back sometime this summer.”

His heart was going to actually explode, she was everything he never knew he needed.

“I’d love that,” he added as they pulled into the museum. “I’m a museum member and I’m a patron, so sometimes I donate rare pieces I find, they love me here.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but her eyes got caught on the twinkling lights in the distance, mesmerized by everything. Old cobblestone streets, brick buildings and wooden gates, it was straight out of the 1800s and absolutely fantastical.

“And it’s all ours for the night,” he put the car in park and turned to her, “wait here?”

She nodded, speechless as she continued to look out the window at everything. Spencer got out of the car, opening the back seat to grab and put on his jacket, straighten out his suit before opening her door and extending a hand to help her out.

“Princess,” he extended his arm for her to tuck her own under, he closed her door and escorted her through the gate and towards the garden.

The sun was just starting to set, 7 pm in early June being the most beautiful time of year in rural Virginia, the sky was a perfect purple as he leads her through the stone arches towards the picnic.

Her eyes sparkled with all the lights, wide and pupils blown as she took it all in. It was a fairytale, she was in a princess dress, he was the king of her heart and this was just the beginning of happily ever after.

“Spencer, whatever your middle name is, Reid,” she gasped, swatting his arm lightly with a smile growing on her face.

“It’s Walter,” he smiled right back.

He let go of her hand then and walked over to a table, turning on the record player and dropping the needle in the right spot. He did his research into some Taylor Swift songs, finding one that reminded him the most of Y/N and how much he loved her.

“May I have this dance?” He asks as she notices the all too familiar guitar strumming.

He reaches a hand out for her, pulling her in as she takes it, “I was so so lost before I found you in the park,” he explains the first verse, barely a whisper beside her ear as they start to sway.

There I was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy, vanished when I saw your face

“All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you,” he whispers once more, feeling the goosebumps bursting on her bare arms.

He spun her around, extending both their arms as she twirled out and then back into his embrace again with a giggle. She swayed back and forth, dancing with him like the night they got married in her field.

Your eyes whispered "have we met?" Across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

“And it was enchanting to meet you, All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you,” he sings them this time, spinning her out again as the chorus hits, her eyes widening as she began to smile wider than he’s ever seen before.

They sang the words together as they danced, smiling and laughing as they moved around the cobblestone. Finding a rhythm so perfect, so them, it was silly and not on beat in the slightest, mostly spinning, it was a spinning song if the album cover was any indication.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

“The lingering question kept me up, Two a.m., who do you love? I wonder till I'm wide awake! Now I'm pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door, I'd open up and you would say, hey! It was enchanting to meet you, all I know is I was enchanted to meet you,” Y/N’s voice softer than ever as she sang her anxieties into his ear, remembering the day at the museum where she wondered if she could have him all to herself.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you

Spinning around in circles she leaves his grasp, dress circling in the wind and he watches her. She takes both his hands and spins around with him in a tight circle before pulling back in, their chests bumping as they laughed, happier than he’s ever been in his entire life, and she’s made him pretty happy in the last few weeks.

The girl of his dreams, dancing around him with a smile like she was making her own music video. This was a dream of hers he didn’t know, making it come true as it became a dream of his own.

He places his hands on her cheeks as he stares into her eyes, “this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. These are the words I held back, as I was leaving too soon, I was enchanted to meet you,” he whisper’s the words, barely singing, more talking.

“Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you,” she sings right back to him, staring into his eyes as they stand still in the garden.

She pulls him into a kiss, breathing in deeply through her nose as they hold each other’s cheeks, unable to get closer as they kissed. Pulling away with a loud smooch sound, smiling before taking her hands in his, once more.

Spinning her around again as the beat drops once more, her smile more beautiful than the first time he saw it. He was so madly in love, he firmly believed he was in heaven.

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home I'll spend forever wondering if you knew!!

This night is flawless, don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you!

Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you

“Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did,” Taylor Swift's voice cuts into the beautiful moment as her songs change and the mood drastically changes.

Y/N bursts out in laughter, jumping lightly as she enjoyed the song, head-banging along as she danced by herself until Spencer turned the music off once again, “you’re so cute.”

“Thank you,” she bowed, “this is cute!”

“There’s a picnic basket in the fridge inside, and some wine if you think that’s a good idea?” Pointing towards the main house, she followed him towards the door.

“Oh, hello?” Her voice changed as she noticed the two black cats on the window, letting Spencer head inside for the basket as she talked to them.

“That’s Edgar and Pluto, the groundskeeper found them in the shed in 2012,” Spencer explains as he comes back out, basket in hand but she’s too busy with the cats to notice.

Petting both their faces, they stretch into her reach and bask in the feeling of her nails on their skin, Spencer would agree it felt nice. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair, he must have been a cat in his last life.

“Amoreena wants her own indoor cat,” Y/N smiled wide at him, “she always wanted to call him Hercules like the Elton John song, almost like she knew you were her dad all along.”

She took his free hand then, following him towards the blanket in the grass, “how?”

“There’s a line in the song about Greek gods, but it says Hercules on her side and Diana in her eyes, and she does have your mom's eyes, right down to the colour of her iris,” Y/N looked at him like he was everything to her.

Spencer couldn’t speak, he just set the basket on the ground and ushered her to sit down beside him. She held the skirt of her dress up so she could sit crisscross applesauce on the blanket, draping her dress over her legs so she didn’t show anything off just yet.

“Every time I look at you I understand all her quirks and her facial expressions,” she added like she was trying to make him cry, “I’ve been looking at her for almost 8 years now, wondering who you were and now I know, and you’re so much better than I ever imagined.”

“Would you have looked for me when she turned 18?” Is all he can ask through his sniffles, trying to hold it together for her.

She nodded, “I was going to tell her soon anyway, she asks a lot of questions I’m not sure if you noticed.” Her giggle was priceless, “she had lots of questions when the goats were born this year and that meant her asking more about making human babies and I just said a special man helped me make my dreams come true, and she thought it was Rumpelstiltskin.”

Spencer couldn’t fight the laugh that erupted from him, leaning forward as he chuckled, making her laugh too. “Does she even know the whole story?”

“She’s only seen the 4th Shrek movie with him, she has no idea that he also takes the babies,” Y/N placed her hand on his knee gently, “If I get pregnant again, I’m going to tell her about how it all works as simply as possible, I want her to feel included in this and she’ll be less jealous if she sees this as a learning opportunity.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed, “I still can't believe she almost punched Michael for hugging me.”

“Oh, I can,” Y/N laughed again, “she was being bullied last year by an older kid and I said if someone upsets you or hurts you, sometimes it’s not that bad to hurt them back. Make them know you’re not weak and you care about yourself, and she gave a kid a black eye for tugging on her braid.”

Spencer couldn’t stop smiling, “that’s my girl.”

Y/N opened the picnic basket then, taking everything out with a smile as Spencer stared at her, thinking a million different thoughts about future kids, how Amoreena would grow up, seeing her as a big sister to hopefully many.

They both leaned forward and kissed softly, smiling as they pulled back, “so you like charcuterie?”

She laughed, “Amoreena called it shark coochie once, I can’t not think of that now.”

“How many kids do you want?”

“Have you ever read cheaper by the dozen?” She teased him. “As many as I can have, I have the funds thanks to my job and the farm and not having to pay a mortgage, I was going to have another baby next year anyway, I had an appointment and everything scheduled, I even tried to get them to contact Amoreena’s father for another sample but they said they couldn’t ask you outright for me.”

“They asked me if I wanted to give another sample when I asked if I could know my kids,” Spencer remembered the words exactly, “she said ‘You have four offspring so far, none of the other samples used have produced a child, the women were all IVF as well so it wasn’t your swimmer's fault if you wanted to donate again.’”

“I don’t want to know the truth, are you okay if we let her decide if she wants to find out at 18?” Y/N asked softly, “I’m content thinking you’re her father, I don’t want to know if it’s some other tall who-lookin’ genius, okay?”

“That’s perfect actually,” Spencer agreed, “and on the kids front, you don’t mind me being in my 70s when they all start going to University?”

“My dad is 68 with no signs of stopping, and he’s still fantastic with his grandkids,” Y/N always had a fact to combat his anxiety. “You have a lot of life left in you, I’ll take good care of you so that they have the best dad ever for as long as possible.”

Spencer was so in love with his family he felt like he was floating, laughing and smiling all meal long as they shared facts back and forth about their lives. Getting to know each other more and more as the seconds passed, he imagined it would be like this forever. She was like a bottomless pit of information, facts, stories and secrets. He loved every single one she shared with him.

She poured herself a second small glass of wine, “you know they say that one glass of wine every once in a while is actually good for the baby?”

“It doesn’t work that fast,” he reminded her, more like he reminded himself. He didn’t want to hope in the chance it didn’t happen right away.

“I had a nightmare last night for the first time in a long time, so I think it worked,” she teased him. “I won't know till June 10th, that's when my next period would be.”

“Nightmare?” It was the only part he picked up on, worried for her and wondering why she didn’t wake him up.

She nodded softly, “I found out I was pregnant and you never came home, and I got lost in the forest looking for you and then I remembered I could wake up.”

He rests his hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb against her bare skin softly, “I’m always coming home to you.”

“I know, when I got pregnant with Amoreena I had bad dreams in the first few weeks too, mostly about giving birth to nothing and being alone all over again, the subconscious and pregnancy hormones are mean as fuck when they hang out,” she laughed away the pain, “I know none of it is real.”

“Good,” he whispered, not knowing what really to say, he wasn’t used to soothing other people yet. Most people didn’t want his facts or concernment when something happened, just a hug normally.

She took a deep breath, pushing everything away, “good news, either my anxiety disorder is back in full swing or something’s working in here,” she laid her hand over her stomach, “either way, I’d like to try again tonight?”

He laughed, “we don’t need to make a baby every time you want to have sex?”

She got onto her knees then, crawling over the blanket and sitting right in Spencer's lap with her hands on both of his cheeks, “I want all your babies.”

He held her waist, pulling her in closer to his chest, “right now?”

She nodded, moving her dress out of the way to undo his belt, “no one is here right? It’s not like anyone would know?”

“Mhmm,” he agreed, kissing her neck as she unzipped his pants, moving his underwear out of the way just enough to free his hardening cock, she stroked it right there in the middle of the garden, staring down between their bodies in awe as he came to life.

Sitting up on her knees more, the slit of her dress made it a lot easier for her to show him her underwear. She was wearing just a thong, perfect for pulling to the side as she lowered herself onto him, ever so slowly.

She fixed her dress around them, completely calm and composed as he was fully inside of her, “you’re okay with this?”

He huffed a laugh out of his nose, dropping his forehead to her shoulder so he couldn’t buck into her and ruin the moment she was making, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her back and off him slightly before back down again, making her gasp.

“I thought you wanted to read?” She teased him as she started to ride him more, moving her hips in a way that took him in and out of her at just the right angle, her hands on his shoulders as she bounced on him lightly, he couldn’t even think straight. “Go on, read to me.”

He took a second to remember the words, mind totally somewhere else and not interested in a book at all when her boobs were right in his face.

“I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion,” the first sentence slipped past his lips as she kept going, he took a moment to kiss right under her ear before continuing.

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence—whether much that is glorious—whether all that is profound—does not spring from disease of thought—from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.”

“Shit,” she moaned, pushing his hand down towards her clit, “you can multitask, smartie pants.”

His thumb was on a mission then, rubbing small circles against her pleasure point, she tossed her head back with her eyes closed as she continued to ride him, “I don’t hear you reading?”

He moaned softly in her ear at the feeling, and the fact she wanted to get off to hearing him recite something from memory, it was more euphoric than he could have ever imagined.

“They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in ah- awakening, fuck,” he was trying his best to stay as composed as she was when he really just wanted to lay her against the blanket and fuck her into next week.

“to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret,” Y/N whispered the end of the sentence, grinding down on him harder than before.

“In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good,” she whispered into his ear, biting his earlobe softly with a moan and he kept rubbing her clit, “you’re so good, Spencer, so so good," she paused to enjoy the moment before whispering in his ear once more, "And more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless or compass-less into the vast ocean of the "light ineffable," and again, like the adventures of the Nubian geographer, "agressi sunt mare tenebrarum, quid in eo esset exploraturi.”

Her words softer than ever and they were never going to get to the end of this poem, he'd never know how the rest of the words sound on her tongue, she pulled him into a kiss then, moaning into his mouth as they ground against each other, finding a perfect rhythm to bring them to the end.

“There, yes, fuck,” she whispered against his lips, pushing against him as she arched her back slightly, slipping away from his mouth as she did so.

He slammed into her then as he chased her lips, making her whimper one last time before she was shaking in his lap, her legs quivering as she finished on him, sending him over the edge and stilling as he came with a shudder. He held her so close, both of them breathing into each other's mouths as they came down, kissing and smiling as they stayed connected.

“We’ll name her Eleonora,” Y/N teased, pulling off him and laying back against the blanket.

He made sure her underwear was back in the right spot before covering her with her dress again and sliding himself back into his underwear.

“Amoreena and Eleonora have a good ring to it, we just need 10 more names,” he teased right back.

“Hopefully we have a little boy one day too,” she smiled as she tugged him down beside her, cuddling into her side as they stared up at the newly dark blue sky and the array of stars that decided to join them this evening.

“Even if it’s just Amoreena, I’ve never been happier in my whole life than when I’m with you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She asked, purely to keep hearing his voice.

“Making me want to get up in the morning again, giving me a reason not to buy drugs for something euphoric to happen to me, showing me real love and proof that happiness is possible if you just chose to be happy,” he gave example after example.

“I thought I learned everything the world had to offer, but you’ve been showing me new little life hacks that make the world so much better, I see a future of bright colours and happiness and laughter for the first time ever, so thank you.”

She held him closer, “it’s been a pleasure falling in love with you, together, you deserve to love yourself. You’re so wonderful Spencer, it breaks my heart to know that anyone has ever made you feel the opposite.”

He couldn’t speak anymore, turning to kiss her neck and cheek so he had something to do that wasn’t crying. He loved her so incredibly deeply that he felt like he was an anchor, dropping to the bottom of her deepest ocean, without a single plan to leave.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

143 notes · View notes

high-functioning-lokipath · 4 years ago

Text

SH - Sherlock & Mycroft Friendship/Brotherly Bonding - Prompt: Holmes brothers as kids, Myc being a good brother, playing the deduction game. - Words: 1,715

WARNING: MYCROFT IS A BIT NOT GOOD AT THE BEGINNING. THIS IS NOT MYCROFT HATE THO! ALSO, DEVIL CHILDREN WHO DON'T LIKE SHERLOCK MAKE AN APPEARANCE. IT DOES END WELL THOUGH.

That being said, I guess I should add a Trigger Warning for bullying.

I do hope you enjoy the story! Let us know!

"You simply are not trying hard enough, Sherlock! It's quite obvious!" Mycroft yelled. The Holmes brothers were standing in the living room in 221B. Mycroft had decided to pay his brother an in-person visit rather than just turning on the security camera he'd installed. Sherlock had decided to ask Mycroft to play the deduction game with him over a cup of tea. Sherlock was rarely so cordial with Mycroft thus Mycroft was, not that he'd admit it, concerned that something was wrong. He realized he'd miscalculated greatly (again, he'd never admit that) when, only an hour later, a shouting match had ensued.

"Really? Obvious? You're bloody insane, Mycroft! That solution is simply not possible!" Sherlock yelled, dressing gown swishing dramatically as he waved about.

"Look at the facts little brother. We've eliminated the rest. And what do we say about what remains?" Mycroft attempted to bring his voice back down to it's normal, placating, patronizing tones.

"Must be the truth," Sherlock replied, hanging his head low as he finally came to rest on the couch. Mycroft briefly, and rather guiltily, pictured Sherlock as a whipped puppy tucking its tail between its legs. He hadn't intended to hurt his brother so, but the damage was done.

'Nothing worse than past fights,' Mycroft thought. 'He'll recover in a few hours.' He decided not to reconcile at the moment as that could quite easily be taken as caring. 'Sherlock knows I care about him, I just don't want to appear too soft,' Mycroft justified mentally.

"Very good, Sherlock," He said aloud. "I understand you couldn't see it my way today. Perhaps one day you'll be able to think clearly about things." Mycroft turned to walk away. "Perhaps once your brain recovers from your last overdose. Maybe then it will return to acceptable functionality."

'Why did I tack that last jab on?' Mycroft wondered. 'Perhaps I really am becoming too calloused.' He shrugged off the thoughts for the moment as he got in his usual black limousine for the ride home.

Back in 221B, Sherlock sat crying on the sofa for some time. Soft whimpers of "Myc" fell from his lips occasionally. Eventually, he fell asleep, although not a restful one.

"William! Come outside! It's a perfect day to explore!" Sherlock's mind palace had conjured up the memory he was trying so hard to forget. He saw everything so clearly though. Mycroft, still as proper as ever, yet this Mycroft was more free, more innocent. About 14 years old and just under 5' 7", Mycroft had already adopted most of the personality that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Sherlock was seeing his memory as though it was a movie he could walk through. He didn't see it from his 7 year old point of view. Rather, he watched on the sidelines. He looked around and found himself in the backyard of their childhood home. Mycroft was examining a particularly bright patch of flowers by the corner of the house. Some of them had been crushed, others torn up.

'The old tabby cat,' Sherlock remembered fondly. 'Mrs. O'Malley did always let that cat wander too much.'

"I'm coming, Mycie!" Sherlock heard behind him. Turning about he saw himself, right at 4' tall, running out of the house to join his brother.

"Tell me, William," Mycroft said. "How do you think these flowers were destroyed?"

"The old tabby cat, Mycie! That's easy! Find me something harder!" His 7 year old self exclaimed. Mycroft smiled approvingly and patted little Sherlock's shoulder.

'I can't seem to recall why he ever stopped calling me William,' Sherlock thought. Shaking his head in his dream, he chuckled silently. He knew he would remember, but his mind was attempting to fool him.

"Timothy Lexington," Mycroft called out, tossing a frisbee to young Sherlock. He caught it absently, brows drawn together in thought.

"Blond and blue, 19, 5' 9", science class, held back a year," Sherlock replied, throwing the disk back with a smug grin.

'The original deduction game!' Sherlock thought with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Sitting on the grass, he settled in to watch.

Mycroft had gotten into the habit of having Sherlock deduce his classmates to the nth degree.

"Why was he held back?" Mycroft quizzed, returning the frisbee.

"Cheating," Sherlock replied, about to throw it back. "Wait," he paused. "Cheating and skipping class." With every throw, Mycroft would ask a question or name a person, and with every catch, Sherlock would answer.

"Samantha Hanshaw."

"Red and green, 17, 5' 5", fairly intelligent. Moved ahead 2 levels over the summer." Mycroft was just about to catch the returning disc when Sherlock added, "And she has a crush on you. She likes your intellect." Mycroft completely froze. The frisbee hit him squarely on the forehead, snapping him out of his trance. "Mycroft! Are you ok?" Sherlock yelled, all deductions forgotten.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mycroft assured him. "Let's go up front." The two Holmes children ran around to the front yard and Sherlock hurried to catch up. As he was about the round the corner, he noticed a group of boys, about his younger self's age, bicycling down the road.

'Oh,' Sherlock remembered. 'This was it.'

"William! Want to come and play with us?" One boy yelled, coming to a stop in front of the house.

"Can I, Myc? Please?" The younger Holmes asked. Sherlock could see the love and care in Mycroft's eyes. But also the sadness.

"They're no good for you, Will," He whispered, kneeling down to his brother's level. The younger's face dropped, tears welling up in his eyes. Mycroft hesitated briefly, hoping with all his heart he was making the right decision and that his initial readings of those boys were false, and added, "But if you want so badly, I suppose an hour or so wouldn't hurt." Sherlock lit up and hugged his brother around the neck.

"Thanks, Mycie! I'll be good! I'll be back in 1 hour!" Sherlock then ran across their large front yard to the road to meet up with the other boys. Mycroft began to walk into the house when he heard yelling.

"Where's your bodyguard now, William? Think you can just use your brain to get out of this, William?" Mycroft's heart sank. Those scumbags were holding Sherlock down on the pavement, kicking him. "Freak! Weirdo!"

"Leave him alone!" Mycroft bellowed. Sherlock had been struggling, trying to get away from them, but there had simply been too many. The bullies quickly scattered, grabbing their bikes and running off. Mycroft pulled Sherlock onto the grass immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whimpered.

"No, no, William. You don't have to be-"

"Don't call me that!" He yelled. "Never again! If I'm to be a freak, I'll be named as such. Never call me by that name again. Call me Sherlock from now on." Sherlock's face had turned adamant, a preview of his future personality.

"But-"

"Please?" Sherlock begged, face softening once again. Mycroft silently nodded and pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

"Come on inside. Let's get you washed up and have some cake together, hm? Sounds good, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, the name feeling strange on his tongue. He certainly did not think the name sounded freakish, nor was his brother a freak, but he would, at least for now, make his brother happy.

"Yes, please."

"And Sherlock?" Mycroft continued, pausing his steps. "I'll always love you and I'll always take care of you. I will never hurt you. Never forget that."

Sherlock woke up with a start, gasping and still sobbing a little. His face was sticky with half-dry tears.

"I will never hurt you." Those words echoed in Sherlock's mind. It seemed that these days all Mycroft had done was hurt Sherlock.

'Not that it was really his fault,' Sherlock thought. 'I'm really the cause of it all. Maybe if I could find a triple homicide I could finally make him proud.' Sherlock shook his head. He'd already solved those types of cases. He really didn't know what to do to make his brother happy. Turning over on the sofa, he looked to the abandoned mugs on the coffee table. No doubt, the contents were far past cold so Sherlock got up and took them to the sink. Hearing the door lock click, he readied himself for an intruder since no one else he knew should be coming in at this time of day.

"Sherlock?" He heard a voice call out.

'Mycroft?' Sherlock wondered. 'Why is he here?' Slowly, Sherlock walked out of the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He spat, unintentionally angry.

"I wanted to apologise. I'm sorry," Mycroft said, absolute sincerity showing on his face. Sherlock was surprised beyond words. Mycroft quickly took in his brother's appearance and realized he was responsible for it. Mycroft sighed lightly before continuing, "Lately all we've done is fight. That's not right for brothers. Even arch-nemesis brothers," He said with a smirk. Even Sherlock chuckled at that. Turning serious once again, Mycroft continued, "Please believe me when I say I'm sorry. I-" He paused for a moment, deciding he may not have another chance like this for a while. "I'll always love you, little brother, and I'll always take care of you. I will never intentionally hurt you. Never forget that. I may be harsh sometimes and say things I don't mean when I'm especially frustrated but I'll try to say 'I'm sorry' a bit more."

"I love you too, Mycie," Sherlock replied, hugging his brother tightly. Mycroft smiled fondly at the man who, at the moment, was burying his face in Mycroft's suit jacket. Mycroft hugged Sherlock back.

"I'll always care, William," His brother's name finally felt right again after all these years. "You're never a disadvantage."

"Neither are you, Myc," Sherlock replied with a smile. "But you know you're not allowed to call me that around anyone else. Not even Mummy and Daddy." Mycroft nodded. "Good. Now why don't we stop this emotional madness and finish what we started," Sherlock commanded. To the average person, it would seem Sherlock had gone back to normal. But Mycroft saw the glint in his eyes. "Chocolate cake with whipped icing?" Sherlock offered.

"Of course," Mycroft smiled, taking the plate and sitting again in the living room. "Cluedo?"

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock oneshot #mycroft holmes #mycroft & sherlock #young!mycroft #teen!mycroft #young!sherlock #kid!sherlock #tw: bullying

30 notes · View notes

penwieldingdreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Caring Makes You Weak - Part 2

Summary: Harvey Specter, best closer in New York City and Senior Partner at Pearson Hardman, the man most females in the city want, yet he himself doesn’t want commitment, because caring makes one weak. Enter Elle Howard, a woman he met a long time ago. Will she be the one to break down his walls and make him care?

Thanks again for beta'ing @fortheloveoffanfic

Warnings: Light cursing, an evil stepmother(?)

Words: 1544

Hardman was gone, the merger with Zane pushed away again but now Jessica wanted to merge with Edward Darby and Harvey wanted - needed to stop it one way or another.

And now the one person he'd had worked very hard to forget about waltzed back into his life because his associate had taken her case. He was never the committing type and he should have never agreed to help Mike with that pro Bono. It wasn't even his case to begin with, so what had changed?

Staring out his windows he thought back to the first time he had met her. How could one woman rattle his brain like that? First Dana Scott, then Zoe Lawford and now…now there was Elle Howard.

Harvey had met her while out celebrating a big win with Jessica and Louis. When he walked up to the bar, she stood there, the fabric of her dress tight around her curves as she waited for her drink.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, leaning one arm onto the bar while he looked the redhead up and down.

She turned a smile on her lips and a drink in her hand. "I believe I'm still good, thank you."

"Well, why don't we move on to the next one?" Harvey smirked at her, holding out his hand for introductions. "I'm Harvey Specter."

Rolling her eyes, she emptied her drink and grabbed the clutch laying on the bar top. "And I'm not interested." The redhead nodded her head and moved to walk around him.

The warmth in his belly was replaced by a coldness as if someone had doused him with ice water. It had been some time since a woman had brushed him off with not being interested but he clearly was and he needed to get to know her. "Please, just let me buy you a drink." he said, his hand lightly holding onto her arm.

Sighing, the redhead turned, her blue-green eyes narrowing in on the lawyer. "You don't like a woman saying no, do you?"

"I always win them over, so I'd say you should take my offer." Harvey told her, nodding at Louis and Jessica, who just left the bar.

Moving closer to him, the woman smiled, her eyes shining with mirth. "Well in that case, I expect you to work your magic to win this case Mister Lawyer."

"How did you know I'm a lawyer?" Harvey asked astonished, not that he could have hidden his job in a bar full of businessmen.

The redhead smirked, leaning over to whisper in his ear. "It's not so hard to figure out, to be honest. So I'm looking forward to when you've won that case, too."

"Harvey!"

Blinking, the dark haired lawyer turned to face his associate. "What you got, Mike?"

"I've been calling you five minutes straight." the dark blond said, a smile on his face as Donna laughed at her cubicle. "What's got you so occupied?"

Shaking his head, Harvey held out his hand to look over the files. "Did you find some dirt on Tanner we can use?"

"Ah, not yet." Mike scratched the back of his neck, watching his boss carefully. "I wanted to ask Louis to help me with the financials, something doesn't seem right."

"Then get to it, I got something else to take care of." he got up from his chair, buttoning his jacket before he left his office. "I'll be back later, keep my schedule clear."

Donna and Mike looked after their boss before they faced each other. "What just happened?"

"I have no idea Junior, but he's been in a mood ever since you got back from Elle Howard last Friday." the secretary said, taking a sip from the latte Mike had brought her at lunch.

Once outside on the street level, Harvey waited for Ray to drive up. He needed to get a clear answer to the questions circling around his head. The black Lexus stopped in front of him and his driver got out, opening the door for him. "Where to, Harvey?"

"To the past." he sighed, giving his driver the address. The Indian man nodded his head, started the music and drove off.

"You want to talk about it, boss?" Ray had known his employer for nearly three years now and in all that time nothing had rattled him like the case he took on with Mike Ross. Harvey shook his head, watching the city fly by as the car made its way out of Manhattan and over to Williamsburg.

"Elle!"

Elle had to get the cries of her kids out of her head, so she decided to go grocery shopping and enjoy the walk over to the store not far from her apartment. Just when she got back, the redhead saw a black car parked on the street in front of her door. Sighing, she tightened her grip on the bags and ignored the sound of a car door opening.

She would recognize that voice anywhere. "What can I help you with, Harvey? Is there something good happening with the case?"

"Mike is still looking into it, but actually I'm here because I need to ask you something." the lawyer said moving closer to her. "Why did you really leave those years ago?"

Elle knew what he was getting into and she still had her secrets, things she couldn't have told him then and would definitely not tell him now. "You know it didn't work out for us."

"You still believe that?" he argued, pushing one hand into the pockets of his suit pants, clenching it with all his might. "I know that isn't the reason why, so stop that bullshit and tell me what made you rethink everything."

Shaking her head, the redhead walked around him, moving swiftly to the entrance of the apartment building she shared with Mike, but Harvey was faster. His hand held onto her arm, tight enough to stop her, but loose enough to not hurt her. Elle blinked her light eyes at the lawyer as she tried to form words without spilling what she had longed to tell him all those years ago. "We both wanted different things and you know it."

"Is that why you suddenly up and left New York? I asked Lucille and she told me you went to Boston. You didn't even think that you could have talked to me?"

Pulling away from him, she opened her mouth to answer him, but there was no sound coming out. Elle needed to get her head straightened out before she could really talk to Harvey and just when she knew what she would tell him, her phone rang again. The redhead pulled it out of her jeans' back pocket showing Charlie's name on the display. "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

"Mum" he sniffled and Elle immediately felt tears come to her own eyes. "Please come and get us. I hate it here."

She could hear his cries and the lawyer in front of her was totally forgotten. "Charlie, baby, what's going on?"

"I want to come back to you. I hate Sarah and she doesn't even want us there. She's mean to Izzy and me. Please, mommy, come and take us home."

Clasping a hand to her lips, Elle fought the urge to break down when she listened to her sweet boy cry because of her ex husband's new wife. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but I can't come and take you home. You know that we still have to wait a bit."

"No! I wanna go home now. Izzy doesn't like it here, too." the young mother could hear her youngest crying next to her son and she knew she had to put an end to it.

Closing her eyes, Elle took a deep breath. "Charlie listen to me, I'm going to come over and we'll talk, okay."

"Okay, I guess." She knew her son wasn't satisfied with her answer, but there was no way she was giving Travis more power over her, than he already had.

Harvey had listened to the conversation and was trying to come up with possible scenarios to fight against Tanner, just so he didn't have to listen to the kids crying for their mother. "I'm coming with you, Tanner isn't going to be happy with you showing up at his house."

"I can do that on my own, I know Travis." Elle tried to argue with the lawyer but from the look he shot her, she knew she'd have to fight him tooth and nails. "I don't need your help to make sure my kids are fine."

Shaking his head, he took a step back from her. "It's either me or I'm sending Mike to Tanner's house and you know it's not going to be pretty." Harvey held up his phone, ready to dial his associate so he could make sure nothing was going wrong and would destroy the case.

"Okay." the redhead muttered, lowering her head in defeat, she trusted Mike, but not around her ex-husband, he could be petty and it would end up in bloodshed if something went wrong. Rolling her blue eyes, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine. But at least let me get the shopping inside."

#harvey specter x ofc #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter #suits imagine #suits usa #gabriel macht imagine #gabriel macht #original female character #fanfiction

92 notes · View notes

miss-kittys-magical-library · 4 years ago

Text

Dress You Up In My Love (Darren Treacy x Jeanie Turner)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: angst, smut, language, cross dressing kink

A/N: Darren needs just one night to hide after pulling a hit on Dublin's biggest drug lord. He turns to secondary family where he finds out something surprising about himself and unfinished business from his cousin's wedding. (Takes place in series two between episodes 5 and 6. There ARE spoilers for series two of Love/Hate.)

A frantic knocking sprung Jeanie out of sleep that she didn't remember falling into. She hurriedly pulled on the hotel bathrobe and shouted at the door she was coming. A glance at the clock told her it was 8pm. Still plenty of time for him to come by.

Jeanie opened the door and gasped. “Dazz?! What's going on?”

“Is Gordo here?” The man shifted from foot to foot outside the doorway. He had a motorcycle helmet in his hands and a wild look behind bright green eyes.

“No. He's been up at Trinity in that fucking lab all day. I've not seen him.”

“I need a place t’crash for a few days,” he half-begged, half informed Jeanie as he pushed past into the suite. “Crikey this is posh. If I knew Gordo was gonna grow up t’have this kinda cash, I wouldn't have poked fun at the specs n shite.”

“Darren is there something I can help you with? As we've not seen you in four years?” Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest.

“I.. Did something. Just need a place t’lay low. Figured my cousin was th’last place anyone would look.” There was a shrug in his voice.

“Why not Rosie?”

Darren started to shed his jacket then ran a hand through his shaggy hair, “Best not involve her either. Not exactly talking these days.” He held his jacket out to Jeanie.

“Fuck off with that!” she swatted the jacket away.

“Oi! Just hold it while I take off the rest.”

“Rest of what? Your clothes? Hi Darren. Haven't seen you since the wedding. You've grown up. Sorry about Robbie and your mum. Thank you, Jeanie. How have you been? How's Scotland? Just lovely. Don't see Gordon for days and he's had TWO affairs.”

“Fair point, darlin,” Darren stepped out of his boots and unzipped his sweatshirt. “The Treacy side ain't exactly one t’write home about. Are we, yeah? ‘Cept Mary.”

Jeanie took the leather jacket and pinched her nose. Eyes closed. Something sticky about it made her recoil. Eyes popped open. She held her hand up; it was speckled brownish red.

“Dazz is this blood?!”

“Best you don't know. Can I shower?”

“I don't know, can- JESUS DARREN PUT SOME FUCKING CLOTHES ON” Jeanie covered her eyes.

“I'M IN UNDERWEAR!” he shouted back, laughter in his voice. “Alright, Ginge. Haven't ye ever seen a grown man in his underwear? You just need to get rid of those anyway ye can. Please?”

“Well you certainly aren't 16 anymore.”

“I was 18 when ye’s got married. Don’t ye remember?” his eyebrow arched suggestively.

“I would say I tried to forget, but when I'm stuck alone at night, or in a hotel for days at a time, I don't feel bad. It really was foreshadowing for the rest of our marriage.”

“Gordo’s cousin trying t’shag his new wife th’night he got married? Almost got that tossover. Pride myself on that.”

“I was hammered and you have very hypnotic eyes. Like Kaa in the Jungle Book”

Darren frowned, his brows knit together in confusion. His lower lip turned out as he struggled to comprehend that as compliment or insult.

Jeanie couldn't help but stare now. A proper look. Darren's body hadn’t changed much since she last saw him. Still thin, muscles a bit more defined. Scars littered his chest and stomach as he exhaled deeply. It was labored.

“Are those from a gunshot?” Jeanie looked minorly distressed.

Darren absently ran his fingers over the old wounds. “Aye. Working on one lung and I'm a bit barmy now.” Like it was no big deal.

Jeanie sighed heavily, but stopped to gather up his clothes. “I'll take a walk, and ditch these. Against my better judgment. Clean clothes are in our bags. You're about his size I suppose.” She rummaged around in the closet by the front door for a garment bag.

“You're a fucking beauty!” Darren snatched his cousin’s wife up in his arms. He pecked her cheek awkwardly.

“Towels are in the bathroom,” Jeanie grappled with what just happened. “I'll be back in half an hour. I hope whatever you did is fucking worth it. Dazz.”

“Trust me, love. No ones gonna miss him.”

------

Jeanie sloshed out of the canal bed glad she packed her Wellingtons for the unpredictable Irish weather. Grateful too for the stones she found along the water side. She had put the hotel pub news bulletin out of her mind warning of a gangland hit on a local known drug lord. One that showed up to her wedding on the arm of Darren and Gordon’s aunt.

“I hope Darren shot you right in the fucking face, and you knew it was him.” Jeanie muttered as she watched the clothes sink after she pushed the bag under the surface.

Maybe it was hypocritical she was relieved JohnBoy was dead. Dazz wasn't the only one who tried to fuck her that night, but he was the only one she welcomed. Maybe, Jeanie owed Darren a bit of physical gratitude.

-----

Jeanie shut the door behind herself and popped her boots off in the closet. She changed quickly in the bathroom.

“You hungry or anything? I hope you found clothes that-”

Jeanie stopped in her tracks when she came around the wall that divided the suite foyer from the bedroom. Darren with his back to the full length mirror, was twisted so that he could look at himself. He seemed to be staring at his own ass.

“What are you doing?!” Jeanie was surprised, but amused more than anything.

“Oh! What kinda fookin underwear does Gordo have?” Darren's cheeks were just a hint of pink as he caught Jeanie’s eye. “T’ere’s no place for my cock when I piss, but they feel nice? Like t’ere comfortably snug?” He caressed his ass for emphasis.

“Well, those are mine. Not Gordon’s boxer briefs. So that answers the cock question. And they look snug because you have.” Jeanie's eyes strayed down over the bulge that had grown inside the boy shorts. “Well you must REALLY like them.”

Darren's eyes were wide, but he didn't seem embarrassed. Not really. His gaze followed Jeanie's downwards to his erection. “Yeah looks t’at way, doesn't it. I promise ye, I've never done t’is before.”

“Who cares if you have. Women wear boxers all the time. Back home, when I was in uh, what's it here? 1st through 4th year, all we wore was boxers as regular shorts. If you like them, Dazz, you could try some more?”

Jeanie had sat down on the bed. One knee crossed over the other with her hands clasped together. She bit her lip while her heart drummed loud in her ears. A pleasurable discomfort as she began to throb at the sight of Darren in her panties. The anticipation of him getting into a sexier pair. Letting her feel them. It had been so long.

“I mean, I'm not going anywhere t’ night. I’m not dressing in full drag though,” he insisted.

Jeanie stood and rifled through the suitcase. “I didn't think you wanted to. My regular clothes wouldn't fit you anyways.” She bit her fingernail and debated between a deep purple and cobalt blue. “I'm built like an hourglass and you,” she laid her choices on the white duvet, “are built like a baby giraffe.”

Darren rolled his eyes but joined Jeanie at the bedside. He gravitated towards the purple ones. Mostly lace with a bit of satin, they would look absolutely obscene on him. In the best possible way.

“Ye were wearing these t’at night,” Darren was full of nostalgia.

“I didn't know your side of the family could be sentimental besides Mare,” Jeanie giggled. She couldn't help it. “I definitely married the wrong cousin. Sometimes, I wish I could legally kill him,” there was an uneasy humor in her voice.

“I mean, I would do it for ye.” Darren didn't even hesitate.

“Um..” Jeanie's face matched her hair.

Darren burst into laughter, “Ease up, darlin’. I'm fuckin with ye.”

Jeanie wasn't certain about that but she played along. His smile both unnerved her and turned her on. The way he studied her and then the panties with a curiosity and delight.

“Why don't you put those on, and I put on the bra. Then.. we can make a full set.” There was innuendo in Jeanie's suggestion.

“We can't.”

“We CAN. The right sentiment is whether or not we SHOULD.”

“Should I really put these on?”

“Would you really kill someone you care about?” It was a strange reciprocation.

“If I cared about Gordo, I would not have tried t’fuck his wife the night he got married.”

Jeanie licked her lips, flames curled around her ears and cheeks. “Put them on. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Liquor?” She reached inside her shirt and produced a small bag that she swung back and forth, “Cocaine from your jeans?”

Darren reached for it but she was quicker. Stuffing it back in her bra, she swatted his hand away. “How about you.. don't do stimulating narcotics with a PTSD chaser?”

“It keeps me awake so I don't have nightmares. Just go so I can put t’ese on!”

Jeanie planted herself on the bed after taking her shirt off. She leaned back on her elbows, legs crossed. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Fine! But close your eyes, so we can both be surprised. Wait, why’d ye take your shirt off?”

“Won't this make you more comfortable?” She pushed her chest forward a bit.

Darren’s eyes darted down to Jeanie's tits where they lingered longer than she expected. “Alright, sweetheart.”

Jeanie could listen to him talk for hours. Still she squeezed her eyes shut with a dramatic flare. “Go on then. I can't bloody wait.”

There was some shuffling around as Jeanie sat without peeking. Her heart raced in anticipation as she realized Darren had tossed what he was wearing at her feet.

A few minutes went by, and she lost patience, “Can I look? You've gotta have them on by now.”

“Fine, but don't laugh! I can't seem to get my junk in these.”

Jeanie opened her eyes and her mouth, “Fuck me, Dazz. Those are..” She stood up and made her way over to him from behind as he faced the mirror. Completely unable to stop herself. “You look delicious.” A word no one has ever used to describe either of them.

Jeanie’s hands on Darren's thin hips. They ran back and down over the sheer and lace over his ass. There was a playful squeeze before changing direction and flattening her hands on his. Downwards and into the indentation of his abs. Then she stopped to trace her fingertips over the angry red scars. Jeanie ran her fingers over them as if she wanted to memorize them.

Darren’s stomach convulsed a bit under her touch. “Jaysus,” he muttered under his breath. Eyes shut as Jeanie watched him in the mirror.

“Let me take care of you. Just one night,” she kissed between his shoulder blades. “You certainly deserve it after what you did today.”

“What did I do t’day?” Darren challenged Jeanie with his question. His hands covered hers, but not to push her away. To guide them down further over his erection.

Jeanie playfully squeezed again. The man in front of her let out a sound between a gasp and a moan when she began to rub the satin barely containing his cock. Her open palm gained friction as she worked faster. Where a man might find a woman's clit between her legs under the fabric, Jeanie moved her palm over Darren's balls.

“Eradicated part of Dublin’s largest pest population,” each word punctuated by her hand moving faster. Jerking him off without ever touching more than the underwear.

“I hope..” Darren's breath hitched and grew heavy. “Someone else..” his hips started to twist. “Ro-”

“I don't think we should talk about her right now, do you?” Jeanie cut him off. She finally let herself reach inside of the panties to properly take his cock in her grip.

Her thumb played with the head, slick with precum. Fingers wrapped around the shaft and stroked the length down and back up. She wasn't used to doing it from this angle but found it even sexier. The power she felt surge being the one in control. How wet she was inside her OWN panties.

Darren's head hung back as he lost himself in the ecstasy of what his cousin’s wife was doing. He didn't care that she was married. To a man who neglected her, ignored her.

Nidge. Tommy. His own sister. His cousin. They fucked around all the time. He and Rosie, that almost got her killed and they weren't even shagging. He knew he'd be livid if he caught her cheating. not violent mind you, but pissed. Just like if Siobhan or Trish did it. Or even Gordon. Everyone was a hypocrite.

Yet here was Darren. His cousin’s wife wanking him off while he wore her knickers. And he didn't give a fuck for once. His dick hadn’t been this hard in ages. That day he and Rosie had sex felt so long ago. They didn't do it much if at all since then.

Maybe this wasn't right, but Darren couldn't care anymore. He stood three feet above a malicious drug lord reduced to a cowering pussy and killed him. It was the same feeling as Jeanie's fingers as they twisted and kneaded his cock. Euphoric.

“If we don't take this to the bed. only one of us is gonna get a happy ending.”

Darren turned quickly. Faster than Jeanie could focus on. Their mouths finally crashed together as he gripped a handful of her. He shoved his tongue in her mouth and hands in her the pockets of the jeans she still wore. He dug his fingers into the thick of her ass as they stumbled back towards the bed.

Jeanie's hands labored in an effort to unbutton and unzip her pants around Darren's body as it thrust into her. She didn't want to stop the war their tongues waged as she struggled to tug the denim over her hips, but there was air as her husband’s cousin intervened. They laughed as he yanked them down to the floor and he went with them.

Darren looked up at Jeanie, who now sat on the edge of the bed, as he knelt on the floor by her feet. He helped each ankle as she lifted them out and literally kissed the tops of her feet as she drew them up on the comforter.

“That was romantic,” her voice thick and barely above a whisper. No hint of her usual sarcasm or humor, only some embarrassment. Her cheeks were pink.

“I've wanted t’fuck ye since we met. And I want ye to remember this for a long time.”

Darren stood up and hooked his fingers in the elastic of the underwear of hers that he was wearing. Jeanie covered his hands and leaned forward to kiss his stomach and his scars. Using her tongue this time to trace over them like she had her fingers.

“Leave them on? I'll never forget it if you let me fuck you wearing those.” Her fingers tangled up in the lace. Tips of her nails just brushed his cock through it.

Darren smiled in a way Jeanie wasn't sure he was capable of doing anymore. Right now, in this moment as his eyes changed from darkness to almost emerald, she knew he let himself forget. That's all she wanted. One night for both of them to forget.

“Can't say I've ever had sex like t’is,” excitement in his voice. “I'm right curious t’see how ye manage.”

“You lay down, and I'll play it by ear. This is definitely a new one for me too.”

They switched places. Darren laid down on the bed, head on the pillows. Jeanie unhooked her bra and slipped out of her own panties. She stood naked and exposed in the lamplight. Her heart raced when she realized he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. They traveled over her breasts and stomach and further still as she crawled on the bed beside Darren and straddled him.

“Fuck me,” it was a response. And a suggestion he made simultaneously. His hands spread out over her back and caught up in her long red hair.

Jeanie raised a bit up on her knees to situate herself. She lowered her body so that the outline of Darren's cock beneath the satin and lace was between the folds of her naked sex. Her hands anchored on his chest as she started to ride him.

“Jaysus your so fucking wet already,” Darren breathed and ran his hands up and down Jeanie's body. Over her shoulders and to her ass where they settled on her hips.

“It's you in my bloody knickers,” her voice wavered as she started to rock harder back and forth.

It was like a pleasurable rug burn on her cunt, as Jeanie closed her eyes and twisted her hips just a bit. She rode the length of Darren’s hardened cock completely from bottom to top and kept gaining speed each time. His strong hands buried in her waist helped her pump over and over. Then he angled himself underneath her so that the tip could hit her clit just right as she moved down.

Jeanie rode harder and faster. The satin and her cunt on fire as Darren's cock started its familiar twitch. She clawed at him without caring if someone else saw the marks on his chest. That explosion was building deep in her walls as they throbbed and ached for him to be entirely inside of her.

Instead Darren slid a thumb into her cunt. It replaced his cock as Jeanie started to lose control. Circled and fucked as she fucking him.

She clutched his wrist, “Harder. Rub my clit harder. Like that.”

He obliged all too eagerly. Especially when moments later she cried out unexpectedly. Her body rolled into an orgasm. He never let up with his thumb or his own hips as they bucked up into Jeanie as she came.

“Let me fuck you properly,” Darren begged as her cunt constricted around his hand. His thumb, the knickers and Jeanie's body slicker than before they started.

Then Darren's mobile rang. Darren's mobile was always ringing.

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @robertsheehanownsmyass @badsext @slutforrobbiebro @badsext @sean-falco

#robert sheehan #darren treacy #love/hate #robert sheehan character fics #introducing darren x jeanie #darren treacy x jeanie turner

39 notes · View notes

smuggsy · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, Leti! I saw you wanted some flyboys prompts. I'll give you two so you can pick between them if you want? How about for Words: “I’ll always be here when you need me,” or for Actions: "for one muse to help the other clean blood off of themselves." <3

You really hit the nail with the second one, it's like you're inside my mind asksjsisnsk but really, this idea wouldn't leave me alone today. I said over on discord I wanted conflict...

Collins breaks about sixteen weeks into his service. It's the first time he loses his nerve, regrettably, because he lets his new wingmate buy him one too many drinks. He's just trying to make a good impression, Jack knows, but he doesn't care for it. Not when Tony got shot down only yesterday and he's been grounded on account of it.

So he can mourn.

Fuck that.

He's only thinking about it more, now that he doesn't have to fly and the day seems never-ending. He lets the new cadet take him out for drinks only because Farrier isn't around.

There's a Royal Artillery regiment off duty occupying half the tables, and Collins almost turns on his heels and heads back to base when he sees their soft-brown uniforms all over the place. But Robert goes on, none the wiser, and Collins has no choice but to follow suit being the older, more experienced one and all.

In the end, it's the rookie who keeps his cool against the harsh words and teasing and Collins the one being held back.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

It's late and he's tired and Robert has money to spare and he keeps leaving pints in front him.

"Yeah, you in blue, why doncha buy us a round?"

"You gotta be joking!" Robert laughs, half-turning on his seat next to Jack at the bar, wearing his pristine new uniform that looks like was unboxed just this afternoon. He's a perfect target for worn-out soldiers temporarily off the line. Collins is already drunk and their presence at his back set his teeth on edge.

"Why? Your lot sit there all day long while we do your bloody job, seems right t'me you'd show a bit of gratitude, right boys?!"

Jack sets another glass softly on the counter and locks eyes with the bartender that looks at him like he's the one stirring up the pot. It's the only reason why he turns his head towards his chatty companion and mutters: "leave it," because the old man is kind enough to accommodate them every time they come round and lets them run a tab.

Robert scans his unfriendly frown and slowly sits back down on the stool, sending Jack a furtive glance.

That would've been the end of it.

"Look at that, not even me mum's got boots as shiny as yours," this voice is closer, and it's a different one.

"Fuck off," Collins mutters under his breath, hand wrapped around his half-empty pint and itching to turn around and bash the idiot's head in.

"What?"

Now he gives him the courtesy of turning around and standing up to say it to his face.

"I said fuck off, I see yer bleedin' deaf as well as thick."

He likes to think it wasn't his words that set it in motion, but the little chuckle Robert couldn't suppress right next to him.

What's-his-name, with his perfectly gelled-up hair and an unbuttoned khaki shirt, sends the new cadet a killer look and Collins wishes he'd gone for it, right there. He wishes he'd gone for his mate so he would've been able to blame his actions on the undying stupid rivalry between Army and Air Force. But he doesn't make a move towards Robert, and instead gives Jack a once-over and a sneer.

"Why don't you sit back down?" he offers, with a mellowy voice that makes Collins' blood boil, "you look like you're about to fall."

To his credit, Jack is swaying on his feet, except that's also the same reason why the cocky gunner ends up with a bleeding nose just two minutes after.

"That's what you get paid for, after all!" is the last straw, a high-pitched mocking voice coming from the sea of men that Collins can't really pinpoint, "t'keep your sorry ass down on a chair."

What comes next is more missed blows on Collins' part than he'd like to admit and more blood on his face and collar than he'd like to explain. Robert comes out unscathed save for a crinkled uniform when some by-stander had the sense to keep him out of the ruckus, but he doesn't stop babbling all the way back to headquarters.

Collins only hears half of it, mind too foggy by an ache both physical and emotional, and bites his tongue one or two times when he turns to acknowledge the boy's existence and sees the face of his dead wingmate instead.

Farrier finds him two hours later, lying on his upper bunk bed in full uniform except for his jacket, which he briefly had the sense to hang before climbing up. Collins hears him come in, close the door and approach, but doesn't move.

He stares at the wall and breathes slowly through the mind-nulling pain taking over, feeling a sore cheek and a lip cut open and thinking that he deserves it, that it grounds him, that it keeps the thought of Tony's silence through the intercom and the sight of his Spitfire hitting the water with a distant thud away.

Was he dead by then? Did he die in the air, or was he conscious all the way down, unable to do anything to stop it? Collins hopes one of those bullets got to him. He knows that's how he'd rather go down if it came to it. When it comes to it.

"What happened?"

Collins stays still and pretends he's not there.

It's not very difficult to imagine, really, because Farrier is never around lately. It's probable that the only thing that brought him up to his room at this hour was Robert's big mouth, surely going on about his new mentor standing up to a room full of soldiers, drunk and out for blood like a fucking lunatic.

Perhaps a little less self-deprecating account of it. More on the heroic side, because Robert's got that naive look about him. Collins hates to think of it: that it is probably a foreshadowing image of what's to happen once he goes up in the air and has a fucking nazi on his tail.

"Collins," Farrier calls again with a quiet voice. Jack feels one of his hands coming to rest behind him on the mattress, like he wants to place it on his waist instead and turn him over but doesn't dare, "you can talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

More silence.

A sigh.

"Don't ya have somewhere else to be, anyway?"

He feels like a dick the moment he says it.

Luckily for him, Farrier isn't so easily swayed. That same hand finally lands on his left shoulder and tugs insistently until he's turning on his back - when he does, Farrier takes a deep breath in, those ones he takes when he wants to lash out at someone but swallows his words instead.

Collins isn't sure he likes that look of anger directed at him, but he stares back defiantly because the influence of alcohol isn't completely gone and because he hates Farrier being this persistent.

Green eyes survey every inch of his battered face and if they stop for a moment too long on his lips, Collins pretends he doesn't notice. Farrier winces and then runs a hand over his face and looks away, again biting his tongue to prevent himself from talking.

Jack wants him to talk, wants him to tell him off so he can answer.

"Come down," Farrier asks, taking a step back from the bed and making a hand-gesture that is a bit too authoritarian for Jack's taste. He half-wants to hop off the bed, stand to attention, make a salute and bark out a yes, sir! only to annoy him, "Collins, don't be a child. Come down and get that shirt off before it's unsalvageable."

His irritation bleeds heavily through the words this time and when Collins looks back at him from the top bunk, he does feel like a little boy being told off.

He only sits up, yanks his tie off, takes his shirt off above his head without unbuttoning it and knowing full well he's only beating up a hornet's nest, makes it into a ball and throws it at Farrier's face with force.

Only then does he jump off and land in front of him.

"Anything else?" he asks through gritted teeth, as Farrier holds the shirt to his chest and looks at him the same way he looked at that gunner back at the pub.

But he stays silent. Farrier doesn't take a step forward and punches him in the face like he did to that poor sod. The annoyance gives place to something else and Collins doesn't know what to do when Farrier doesn't move, because he'd been counting on him turning around and striding off after that outburst.

And he needs him to, quick, because there's a lump forming down his throat.

"No?" he asks, shaking his head, confrontational.

Farrier just stares at him, his poker face the antithesis of Jack's. He only sniffs, crosses his arms on his chest and shifts his weight on his feet comfortably, like he's planning on just staying there standing guard.

Collins feels like he walked right into his trap. Can't climb back up now, show him his back and stare at the wall and ignore him until he gives up and leaves.

"Are you done?" Farrier asks when he looks away.

He doesn't give an answer and sits on his roommate's made-up bed instead because he can't feel the chilly air down there as much.

He probably should wash that shirt before the crimson red becomes a permanent stain, if only to avoid being told off by his superiors. He really doesn't find it in him to care for a stupid blood-spluttered collar when Tony's dead, he's dead.

Farrier sits next to him and brings a damp cloth to his lip without warning. Jack flinches away before he notices it's only his handkerchief soaked in water and has the decency to turn towards him this time, the will to put up a fight all but gone.

"I'm sorry..." he starts, trying to get the words out but failing.

"It's alright."

"No," he chokes out, "sorry."

Farrier presses the wet cloth softly above the cut on his brow and looks him in the eye with honesty.

"No need to be."

Collins disagrees, but he stays still for a couple of seconds and lets Farrier slowly wipe the dried blood off his skin with the utmost care and tries to think only of this moment.

"That's a nasty bruise," Farrier says, conversationally as if the silence makes him uncomfortable and the close space between them makes him nervous.

Jack doesn't trust himself to open his mouth without bursting out crying in his face, so he doesn't say anything and just avoids his gaze again.

The silence stretches on for another minute.

"All done."

He bolts upright soon as Farrier is off his personal space and makes for the metal wardrobe in the corner to fish for a tank top, because it's that time of day when the sun is completely gone and he may as well have an early night in.

Anything to get Thomas off his hair.

"Thanks," he throws over his shoulder, tugging at his belt hoping that's enough of a dismissal for Farrier, "I'll wash that shirt," he adds, noncommittally.

Farrier stays there for another quarter of a minute.

"Yeah, you do that."

When the door closes behind him Collins braces himself against the wardrobe and holds onto it until his knuckles go white, feeling like he can't take enough air in.

#i know i have two more suggestions on the discord #but honestly this was so spot on i couldn't let it pass #i just wanted collins to punch someone okay 😂😂#also i couldn't really come up with a better ending so #i gave up #i hate unresolved comfort but inspiration just ran off you know #so i'll leave you with a grieving collins instead haha you're welcome.#dunkirk #dunkirk fanfic #dunkirk fanfiction #dunkirk 2017 #flyboys #pilot husbands #collins #farrier #collins/farrier #farrier/collins #farrier x collins #collins x farrier

24 notes · View notes

summoner-chan · 4 years ago

Text

✨⭐[幸せな4周年!/Happy 4th Anniversary!]⭐✨

4⭐ Ose came home today with the FIRST ticket and I've never been so happy!! I've been wanting his 4⭐ for so long now and now that I've gotten it, I started writing a self indulgent fic of Summoner-chan using up the Platinum Lil Salomon card just for Ose! Hope everyone enjoy reading it!

Hurried footsteps echoed lightly through the halls, almost resembling like an excited child awaiting their gift under the tree when it was Christmas morning. The brunette couldn't help but giggle and grin with joy, gripping the single card in between her fingers. The thought of surprising her favourite familiar made her heart blossom with flowers, butterfies swooning in her stomach. The short female hastened her steps more, eager of seeing the therian clad in a white suit

The leopard was idling by the garden, the various plants and flowers from otherworldly realms made him felt that he had visited the realm just by looking at them. Truly, it gave him a sense of serenity and tranquility. Being a triple agent was certainly thrilling but exceptionally exhausting to say the least, though, he didn't expect to have become one of the familiars of the very infamous guild master and her guild, Hanasaki Abuto of The Summoners

And he certainly and absolutely didn't expect to be tackled from behind as a loud cry of his name soared into his ears, their arms wrapped around his midsection and as the grip tightened at every second. His suave smile grew even wider as he very well knew who it was before looking over his shoulder only to be greeted with brown orbs glittering in the sunlight, a toothy grin that was accompanied by the giggles slipping through her lips

The fem eased her grip as she let the therian turns his body to face her, diving her face into his broad chest and having to earn a light chuckle out of him. Large diamond spotted hands caressed the cheek of his beloved summoner, his heart swelling with adoration as she leaned more into his touch before placing her small gentle hands on his own, her dazzling smile seemed to pull him more into the dangerous game called love. He had his fair share of affections but not as strongly as he felt towards the young lady

"My, my, boss. You seemed to be such in a good mood while being even more cuter today. Has a miracle happened while you dear handsome familiar was away?" The leopard therian cooed, a surge of pride coursed through his veins when his green eyes caught up to the reddening hues of her features. Now that he had taken a great look of her face, he noticed that the usual full lips was glossed and it was slightly tinted, marvelously enhancing the natural colour and it went gorgeously well with her sun kissed skin.

Oh how ironic it was that he was granted with such a heavenly view despite being a creature from the depths of Gehenna. He wholly welcomed the gift that whatever ethereal beings had given to him, whether it be the Gods of the Heavens or the Devils of the Hells or maybe it was mix of the two but either way, he's not complaining of it. The sight of a card adorned with the lines of gold covered his field of vision before having it lowered, the young lady peaking through as if to see his reaction

It seemed to be that his summoner had recently got a handful of Platinum Lil Salomon tickets as she calls it, from what she had enthusiastically explained to him before, it had the ability to summon a familiar of their own choice, even summoning to an even powerful and stronger variant of the familiar. The male didn't considered himself special or eye catching compared to the other familiars she had on her team like for example, the butler from the Ikebukuro Berserkers and the prosecutor from the Rule Makers as both had evolved into their highest form unlike him, who has still yet to be given the opportunity of having the privilege of such

A feeling had wormed through its way into his heart, a feeling that he tried to extinguish but the leopard had underestimated its untamed fire, rivaling to even the fire that spawned in the lowest pit of Gehenna. The notorious feeling that could sever, crush and erase bonds like no other was jealousy. The man would rather lop his head off than let his charming, collected and flirtatious image to be stained with jealousy, no, he wasn't going to submit and surrender to it so easily without battling the wretched emotion with all his might

The therian closed his eyes and hummed as if in thought as he had guessed that she was going to use it to summon more variants or get the same kind to increase the strength for the other two companions but went along using a trick up his sleeve. "Looks like your devilish familiar is a bit clueless today, boss. Mind enlightening me who's the lucky man who's going to be summoned?" said the spy. The brunette's smile was replaced with a pout, her brows furrowed as she let out a huff and her hand was quick to playfully smack the therian's chest before the male breath out a small 'ouch' from the attack

"You're really going to make a girl say it first?..." Oh? Well that's new. Make a girl say it first? What in the world did his summoner was going to say? The fem felt like she was shrinking under the gaze of her familia who turned quiet and merely was waiting for her answer by the looks of it. Oh how she wanted the ground to swallow her up whole, sadly, miracles don't happen that often so she's left with to deal with her own embarrasment. Her gaze was anywhere else than gazing into those hypnotizing green eyes, resembling to a precious mineral stone that she adored, emerald

Clearing her throat, the fem raised the fancy card up, using it as a shield to block her blushing face and to avoid looking at her own familiar to save herself from the embarrassment. The card slowly started to glow, the colours shifting from red to green to grey before settling down with purple. As the card glowed, the image of the goat transient that was on it, too, changed as well, morphing entirely into another transient. The image swirled vigorously and the glow grew brighter and brighter, the therian having to squint his eyes from the light. With a loud shing, the purple mysterious glow faded and turned into mist, covering the pair as the wind picked up and blew it all away gently

The choice of the summoning has been done, now all the summoner of the card have to do is to cast the card, just like summoning familiars from the App (Gacha). The fem was shaking with anticipation and nervousness, the silence of her familiar was eating her away, was he not happy that he was chosen? "Boss" The sudden call made the therian's summoner jumped at the sound of her addressment, pulling the card closer to her face as she let out a shaky hum as an answer of his call. "Don't be like that... Won't you see your darling familiar's face, boss..?" The brunette bites down her lip when the side of her face was fanned with hot, long, breaths of air. Large calloused hands were placed on her waist, sliding down agonizingly slow before resting themselves on the hips, thumbs drawing circles on the clothed area

A gasp had slipped through, the fem's voice quivering when the therian placed his lips on the unprotected skin of her neck, easing his way up while leaving soft kisses on the flushed flesh, soft pants were also induced from the mere action. "Still not budging, I see? How admirable of you to stand your ground after that stunt I pulled, boss. Though...I doubt that you'll last after this one" With a lick of his lips, his resting hands started to move down further, inching closer and closer to his beloved summoner's backside. Just as he was about to reach, the young lady let out a squeal of surrender, her hand tapping on his white clad shoulder as the other still held on to the card

"I'll look at you! I'll look at you! Just- You're going to make me overheat from all of that..!" Chuckling, the male swiped the card away from her fingers, the young lady letting out a strangled 'hey!' before quickly shutting up when the leopard placed a firm hold of her waist, their faces undeniably close. "Not so hard isn't it, boss? You could have listened to me sooner but, ah, alas you caused your own downfall, didn't you?" The leopard donned in the suit said teasingly, sending out a wink into the fem's direction

"Now there's must be a reason of why you chose me, say boss?" His only response was silence, his summoner batting her eyelashes at him, putting on the 'I don't know what you're talking about' look. Most of her friends and familiar were all too knowing of this look, the girl being a terrible liar while being blatantly obvious that she was hiding something. With the rule that the therian had, he had already seen through her, completely capable of seeing the answer that he looked for but the leopard wanted to hear it from her own very lips instead, it's more fun teasing and irking out the answer rather than by using that Rule of his.

"I w-wanted to summon that Red Oni!"

"Didn't you already have him, boss?"

"I-uh! w-wanted you to be stronger!"

"How nice of you to think of me boss but that's not entirely it isn't it?"

"You said that you wanted evolve right!! Then I took the chance and used the card for you!!"

"Indeed I do but there's no reason for you to willingly do so when you have other tons of familiar befitting of the card. Unless you have something important to tell me..?"

"Urk!.."

The brunette whined, all of her lies were cut down by the statements and questiones that her familiar dropped down on her. There's no more room to run to anymore, she's cornered and the truth is begging to be told, her heart leaping out from her chest from the frenzied situation. The summoner's lips moved but the sound of the words were extremely dimmed and it came out as a muttering to herself, fingers fiddling with the hem of her school jacket. The reaction from her is truly priceless! The male's sensitive ears took note of the words she just said but there's no way he's going to miss the opportunity to tease her more, filling up the desire to take her right then and there from the cute reactions she's giving

The leopard placed his hand behind his ear and leaned down, his signatures smirk on display for the world to see "Hmm? I couldn't hear what you said, boss. Mind repeating that for me?" The young lady started to stutter and trip on her words, all of this amused the therian that embraced her. Her hands reaching up to her face before cupping them, eyes shut and brows furrowed, the blush on her face was apparent "Because I love you, alright!" Yes, the answer that he was finally waiting for, the confession of her love to him. Before all of this event happened, the leopard therian had gotten his answer just by glancing to the cheery summoner of his when they hugged him. Their confession of love was written all over them

Ose figured his summoner had enough of his teasings, gently pulling her hands that cupped her face, his expression softened when the girl looked up to him with the same brown orbs that he stared into when he was summoned. The therian came nearer to his summoner, the space between them no more as two figures melded into one, lips pressed with one another, the summoner's eyes widen in shock before fluttering them close before kissing him back with the same fervor he's giving to her

The therian pulled away reluctantly, his sense of thought chipped when a soft moan of his name reached his ears, quickly regaining back his thoughts as he pressed another kiss on her temple. For now, the silence between them was all he needed. The love that was kept away in his heart blossomed, dancing with joy and happiness as the sun shone on to the waves and bid the flowers goodbye before another beacon of light replaced it, which was the Moon. The spy planned on returning the feelings that his summoner had for him in another different way but this was sufficient for him too, he guessed

Hoho! Quite lengthy than I expected to be honest but still happy with it!! I hope that everyone is having fun with the Anniversary!! Summoner-chan, signing off!⭐

✨⭐[幸せな4周年!/Happy 4th Anniversary!]⭐✨

32 notes · View notes

patchoulimademoiselle · 5 years ago

Text

Guilty. (Part 1.)

Part One.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Work place romance, smoking, self destructive habits, language, adult themes. (No smut just yet lol.)

Masterlist.

Part One:

Your cell phone rings, a sound that pulls a loud groan from the back of your throat, the sandwich in your hand thrown down onto your desk as you blindly dig through your purse for it, eyes sharp as you stare at the girl sitting across from you, Wanda. "It's my boss," Your tone is clipped as you look down, "Stay quiet."

You sigh, push your hair from your face as if he could see how relaxed you were moments ago, muster up a second wind of energy, and rise to your feet as you take the call. "Steve, finished so soon?"

"Cut the shit, Y/n." He's speaking over the plastic straw between his teeth, sipping on an iced coffee no doubt. "I know you're goofing off with that stupid assistant of yours."

You're lucky he isn't on speaker, and you walk quickly out of Wanda's ear shot. "Be nice! She's new, just like I was."

He hums, the sound of his dress shoes clicking against pavement and cars driving past tells you he's walking. "But you were never dull, never as dense. You wouldn't still work for me otherwise."

You, an assistant, were gifted your own assistant. The work load you take on under Rogers overwhelms the responsibility you still have at the firm, and so they decided to assign someone under you, unheard of and argued among the people above you, but Steve thought it was a good idea. All he saw was dollar signs, you moving up with your reputation and gifting him a chance to charge more for both of your services in the court room.

But Wanda was young, too young to understand the importance of the work she does here, too hung up on boys and partying to see her job as anything other than a job.

"You didn't call me to talk about this." You push open the doors to the balcony in his office, stepping outside for fresh air.

"No, I didn't. I'm done with my client, I'm sending you my location."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest, hanging up the call, a text message coming through seconds later. You groan, heeled foot tapping on the pavement as you weigh your options. You had expected to have at least another two hours free to train Wanda, but that had just been stolen from right under your nose.

You count your steps back to your desk, a nervous tick you picked up in law school, plopping back down to finish your sandwich, roasted turkey breast with all the trimming.

"Wanda," You speak over half chewed food, manners gone out the window in your rush to find an excuse to slip away. "I've been called out, something important has come up with a new client." Her eyes snap up to you from the stack of papers in front of her. "I'll be back as soon as I can, just stay by your phone and I'll let you know what's going on."

She looks nervous, never left here in your office alone before, and you feel bad, remembering how it felt to be new in such a large place. This was a building full of people with their heads in their asses, established lawyers with years of experience under their belts. She was prey among wolves, protected only by your presence, and now you were leaving her.

"Don't leave this office unless it's to use the bathroom." You say. "Don't be loud, don't speak to anyone, keep your head down and stay out of trouble."

All things you wish Steve had told you, all things you had to learn on your own. It's hard being a woman studying law, you're automatically ruled out simply for being a woman.

You offer her a gentle smile, reaching into your wallet and pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "Door Dash some food if you want, or waste it in the vending machine, just remember to take a break and hydrate yourself."

She looks doe eyed, "Thank you." She says, and you're tempted to just bring her along and shove her into the back seat of your car, tell her to stay quiet and to not repeat anything she might hear.

But Steve would throw a fit, you can see it now, a ghost of a smile coats your lips as you leave her behind, stuffing the last of your sandwich into your mouth as you scoop up your purse.

You're tired, Steve called you in early this morning to get some work done before your assistant was scheduled to come in. A new case was dropped on his desk, and you made arrangements for him to meet with his new client immediately. He took a cab, slightly annoyed that you weren't free to take him there, but there was no excuse now, not with your assistant busy at work, you could slip away for a little while to do the second part of your job, assist big shot lawyer Steve Rogers.

The address he gave you was a coffee shop, but naturally he's walked a good block away from it by now, bored and restless in the city of New York waiting around for you, and you honk your horn when you see him walking, phone pressed to his ear.

He gets in, tossing his brief case in the back seat, pressing his phone to his chest. "Find some food? I could go for a burger."

Steve is very particular about what he eats, especially all American classics. He's craving something greasy probably, a nice greasy sloppy burger with salty fries and a thick shake. You're slightly pissed that you ate already, because eating again will ruin your appetite for dinner, but you wouldn't turn down the opportunity for good food, especially if Steve is going to be paying.

He wraps up his phone call just as you swing by Five Guys, parallel parking across the street from the diner. He stares at you for a moment, eyes squinted and glaring until you pull a face at him. "What?" You ask, shifting in your seat.

"This case is being paid for by the state, our client has no money." He says, "He's suing because of wage violations."

You shrug, settling back into your seat, not understanding his tone or expression. "So? This is easy for you."

"It's against Stark Industries."

You frown, eyebrows knit. "Oh shit."

"Yeah," His chuckle is almost nervous, pushing the car door open to get out. "Shit."

You walk across the street together, and you make a show of clinging to his arm for support. He glares down at you, but let's you, baby blue's almost welcoming your touch as he helps you across the street. Then he's shrugging you off and ushering you inside the diner.

"I'll pay," He says. "But the next one is on you."

You kiss his cheek in thanks, whispering your order in his ear and then ducking off into the ladies room, running wet fingers through your hair and swiping on a new coat of smudge proof lipstick.

Your relationship with Steve Rogers is a complicated one. There's chemistry, obvious chemistry that often leaves you flustered, just like this, but he refuses to do anything about it. In fact, you've talked about it before, the backs of your thighs pressed to his desk top as he kissed you, telling you that he couldn't, wouldn't go any farther because if his career has taught him anything at all it's that you don't shit where you eat. If word got out that you two were an item, you would be torn to shreds in the court room, all credibility out of the window, and he would be forced to fire you to save his reputation.

But it's still there, lingering in the way he looks at you and talks to you. That fire is still there, and one day it was going to consume you both.

You undo a couple buttons on your shirt and untuck it from your skirt, rolling up your sleeves and letting go for a moment, the heels you wear suffocate your feet, so you slip out of them, carrying them back out into the seating area to find Steve. He's sitting in a booth next to the window, glaring sharply at you as you walk over, your food waiting for you.

"You look like a slut."

You laugh, snatching up your milkshake as you sit, sucking the thick liquid through a straw. "No, I look like I'm not stressed out for once." You nod to him him for emphasis, his forehead wrinkled. "You should try it."

He's wearing his suit jacket still, which he quickly shrugs off and places beside him. He rolls up his sleeves as well, plucking a fry from his plate as he alternates sleeves, eyes never leaving you as he copies your current state, reaching up to undo his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt.

"Better?" He sweeps a hand through his hair, reaching for his own shake, and it makes you smile.

The sun hits his face just right, lashes looking elongated against his cheeks each time he blinks, the direct sunlight revealing a hint of green hidden in his eyes.

"Much," You reach for your burger, needing to distract yourself. "Now tell me about this guy."

"Barnes." He says, clearing his throat, talking around a mouth full of chocolate shake. "James Barnes. He's owed two weeks of pay and Stark Industries is refusing to pay it, something about the prosthetic he wears being a violation of his working contract."

"That's bullshit."

"Sure, but Stark has good lawyers." He says, fingers pinching up a bunch of fries. "He'll find a loop hole."

"So what are we going to do?" You ask, juice from your burger coats your fingers, and your chin, hands too full to wipe the mess away.

Steve regards you for a moment, takes you in as the mess you are, and his touch is gentle as he reaches over with a napkin to wipe your face. "You are going to sit in your office and dig up everything you can on Stark Industries and James Barnes. I'm going to do a bit of field work, find out who his lawyers are and how dirty they're willing to play it."

You hum, mouth full. "This is good."

He rolls his eyes, dropping the napkin and going for his own food. "I can tell, you've made a mess of yourself." There's a husk to his voice that's far too suggestive, and you do all you can to ignore it.

A part of you is worried about the case. You're never seen Steve so worked up about one before. Tony Stark is known for burning lawyers to get his way, and he pays much more than the state could ever afford to pay you to take a case. But you're determined to help out as much as you can, the case is a simple one and will go in your favor on it's own, but these kinds of people don't play far, which is why it's important to figure out what tactics they will use in the court room.

You sit there for about an hour, eating until you can't, bickering and tossing an occasional fry to get your point across. All in all Steve Rogers is good company. Some people will never get to know that, his reputation precedes him, scaring away anyone who dares to get close. But you know better. You know that there's some kind of gentleness in his hard glares, you know that he cares even despite the cold tone of his voice, his eyes warm and kind even if his jaw is set in anger.

He cares about you, more than he would ever say out loud, and you're lucky to be good at reading him. You would never know otherwise.

When you get back to the firm, Wanda is where you left her, fresh Subway on the corner of your desk, and Steve grumbles as he makes his way back into his own office, which you glare at him for. She's done a majority of her work, filing, and you feel bad to add another task to her list, but you're on a case after all, and there is urgency.

"Wanda, be a dear on fax me everything we have recorded on Stark Industries." You say, dropping your bag and once again slipping out of your heels. "Check all records, I want everything, no matter how minor."

She nods, tapping the stack of papers in front of her. "What about this?"

You shrug. "It will be there. Save it for tomorrow, you can go home after you do this last thing for me."

You can see the way her eyes light up, and you smile to yourself as she gets up to do as you asked. You settle at your desk and power on your computer, waiting for her to send the information over. In the mean time you straighten up, adding to your pile of items to shred, something else you can have Wanda do tomorrow, collecting spoiled food from the mini fridge in the corner, tossing out piling up take out trash and organizing your desk.

Steve hears the commotion, pulling open the dividing doors between your offices, and pokes his head in. "Sent her home?"

"Soon." You say, "Need me for something?"

"Not really, I just don't care to babysit."

His attitude about your assistant is understandable. Steve works in a particular way, and you've since been accustomed to making things work. Wanda only slows him down. Well, at least that's how he sees it, because she slows you down, which then slows him down. But you were new once too, just as slow an annoying as he finds Wanda, and you understand how it feels to be the new girl. She's young and a bit naive, but helpful, and you won't let Steve Rogers scare her away.

"Stop being rude," You snap. "She's trying, and she hasn't made a single mistake yet." You sigh, exhaustion setting in as you pinch your eyes. "I'm going to pull an all nighter, dig up some dirt for you."

He drums his fingers on the door, pushing it open wider. "I have some dirt to dig up on my own as well. I also need to schedule a meeting with someone, I'll be here a while."

It reminds you of when you were newer, eager to please, you would sprawl out on the floor of his office with your cheap laptop and notepad, the two of you fueled up on garbage coffee and staying up all night to prep for a case. It doesn't feel that way anymore, there is no enthusiasm because there are no risks. Steve is one of the best in the country, he's never lost a case, and you've proven yourself by being at his side for so long. But this is different. You're going up against someone with power, someone loved by the people. The risk is mild, but very much there, and it has you both anxious and on the edge of your seats again.

“I'll fish out my laptop and we can work together?" You offer, unsure of what he'll say. But his subtle nod back into his office is answer enough for you, and you watch as he spins on his heels.

"Dinner is on you."

You huff, rubbing your face, mentally preparing you for the night ahead. "Of course it is."

You send Wanda home, double checking the faxes she's sent up from records, every case Stark Industries has ever had displayed before your eyes, and you tell her to come in as soon as she can tomorrow morning.

You won't be getting any sleep tonight, so you do all you can to make yourself comfortable, fishing a pair of leggings out of the trunk of your car to change into, and ordering takeout for you and Steve to eat while you work. You power up your laptop, pushing your desk through the dividing doors to line with his, working across from each other to put together some counter argument for any bullshit Stark and his people manage to come up with.

The hidden elements you find are shocking, police officers paid to go on trial and lie, lawyers who were burned for trying to go up against Stark, judges fired and discredited for being tipped off, all real cases that the media hasn't covered. Stark has his toes dipped into every industry there is, including the media, any and all press about either him or his company is filtered through his payroll. You greedily take notes, writing down names and dates, and a few details and citations to type up later into official statements.

Steve seems to be having a hard time though, his coffee cup once again empty, his fingers laced together in his hair, eyes staring blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He's trying to get dirt on Stark's lawyers, find out who is working with who, and who he can trust to get information from. But everyone has been sworn to secrecy, tipped off and paid to stay quiet. If Steve dives down the wrong path, it can trigger a chain reaction that will make it's way back to Stark, and all the work done to build a solid case against him will be for nothing.

"Steve?" Your pen taps as you wait for his eyes to meet yours. "Smoke break?"

He nods, rising far too quickly from his seat, and you follow after him, fishing a pack of cigarettes from your purse and a lighter for him.

Smoking isn't something you condone. In fact, you find it disgusting. But the nicotine rush does help you concentrate, it helps him far more than it helps you. The coffee has been enough, especially since you've had three cups of it. But after living this way for so long, after wiring your brain to work under extreme conditions, sometimes it takes the extreme to get the gears turning. For Steve, smoking is considered and extreme.

He takes it from you with a gentle thank you, fingertips brushing yours as you both step out onto the balcony. He lights a cigarette quickly, taking it between his lips, and the way he visibly relaxes scares you a bit.

You can't help it, fingers reaching to grab the collar of his shirt. The moon hits his skin just right, his eyes seeming to twinkle as he glances down at you, cigarette tucked between his fingers as he reaches up to grab your chin, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

He tastes like sugar, his lips warm as they press against your own, and your eyes flutter close at the sensation. It's scandalous, two coworkers sneaking a kiss on the balcony of the law firm they work out, concealed in darkness, but still not safe from the consequences of getting caught. It drives you further, makes you moan in his mouth as his grip adjusts to your throat, holding you in place, drawing it out of you.

Then just like that he's pulling away, forehead wresting against yours as he takes a deep breath to control himself. It's unspoken, but understood. You can't.

"Maybe we should wrap up in a few hours." You suggest, eyeing his wrist watch. "A bit of sleep will do you good."

He snorts, and you have your answer. "Leave if you want."

You both know you won't, so you share a cigarette on the balcony at three in the morning, lips tingling with the ghost feeling of his lips on yours, waiting for the sun to rise and the caffeine to leave your system so that you can refuel.

The smoke break works, Steve is lively as ever for the next couple of hours, putting together his to do list for the day, and you type up your findings for him. When the sun comes up, you go your separate ways. You go home to freshen up, and he heads out on his long trail of hunting. You text Wanda, asking when she'll be able to come in. She tells you that the metro won't be at her stop for a couple of hours, and you offer to pick her up instead. She doesn't refuse.

You shower, change clothes, style your hair, skipping out on breakfast in hopes that Wanda will want to grab something on the way.

The address she gives you is near the college campus, no doubt a dorm she shares with other people. Her hair is a little frizzy, her dress wrinkled, you notice immediately that she hadn't been prepared to come in, but you don't mention it. Instead you ask her where she wants to get breakfast, and in true college kid fashion, "Starbucks" is what she requests.

You both get muffins and coffee, and she thanks you, once again for treating her to a meal. She's starting to warm up to you, smiling more, unafraid to speak her mind. "Can I ask you something?" Her lips are wrapped around the green straw, plush and pink, and you realize how pretty she actually is, even with no effort really put into her appearance today.

"Sure." You shrug, eyes on the road ahead of you as you drive to the law firm.

"Are you and Steve dating?"

The question nearly makes you crash, you sputter for a response, cheeks flushing and breath leaving your lungs. She smiles. "It's just that the way he acts when I'm around-"

"Don't worry about him." You cut her off. "He's just old and cranky."

She smiles, but shakes her head. "I don't mind it, I've had worse. But I've noticed how protective he is over you and over his work. It seems to be the only thing he cares about."

Her words surprise you a bit, because you didn't think about it that way. You saw his mistreatment of her to be simply that, another big guy picking on a little guy. You didn't think for a second that he was just trying to protect you.

"That doesn't make it right." Is all you can say.

"I can handle myself, Y/n." She says, reminding you of a younger version on yourself. "It's the case you're taking on that you need to worry about."

For once, you see Wanda for who she really is. Not a shy timid girl who hides behind good behavior, but a law student, smart and witty, knowing when to hide behind a facade and when to actually speak her mind.

She knows something, if not about the case, then about Steve Rogers, and given the far away look in her eyes, she isn't a girl you should underestimate.

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

Guilty masterlist.

Ways you can support my work:

Like, repost, share with a friend.

Buy me a coffee? Thank you or reading. :)

#Steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #lawyer au #lawyer steve rogers #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #lawyer series #steve rogers series #eventual smut #slow burn #steve rogers reader insert

121 notes · View notes

curiousconch · 4 years ago

Text

Sobering Truth

Chapter 10 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: After the fallout of Rafael and Heather, what could this mean to Bryce and the recovering doctor?

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.1k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / hints of past violent experience and sex

Author's Notes: Almost is Never Enough by Ariana Grande and Nathan Skyes was the perfect song for this chapter, the lyrics are very fitting. Also, watch out for a cameo from a PM character 😊

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Bryce found himself hunched alone in a bar stool downtown Boston. He swirled the brown liquid in his glass, brows furrowed in remembering the scene in the hospital room.

His face contorted with the pain piercing through his chest, the possibility of losing Heather once again sinking like a sword. He racked his mind for an option, but it seems all is lost in that battle.

He thought back to their last outing together, and he was so certain that something was there. So why did she choose to stay with someone else instead of being with him?

His lips formed a thin line, his hand rubbing over his face in frustration. The emotions within turbulent and unnerving. Was he just too much of a fool when he thought he had a shot with her?

This is exactly why Bryce Lahela didn't want to commit. It was far more easier for him to seek momentary connections rather than build permanent ones. He didn't want to relive the rejections-filled past from his adolescence, at the time of his parents' criminal convictions.

Yet here he was again, suffering the same consequences of wanting something permanent in his life. Something that could bring him happiness. Something better than him being alone in the middle of a crowd of drunken patrons.

He should've stayed in his own lane of hook-ups and one night stands instead of chasing for this relationship.

So the first thing he did when he realized that that door is closing, was to go back to his old stomping grounds.

But why can't he will himself to look around?

As if on queue, an olive-skinned woman slid herself beside him, her sudden presence invading his thoughts. With a half-smirk and green catty eyes, the coils of dark hair loosely wrapping her head. The mere sight of her was mesmerizing.

"I know you," she said, almost in a purr.

Bryce looked back at her, and a long-forgotten heat warmed him up. And it wasn't because of the alcohol in his system.

"I guess my reputation is my charm," he replied, leaning forward. He loosened his tie whilst sipping from his glass.

"Oh I know all about your reputation," her voice made him shiver, her fingers ever slowly trailing a path towards his arm. "You're the one with magic hands," she whispered, her brows dancing as she spoke.

This commanding woman was pushing his buttons in all the right places, her sparkly black cocktail dress that clung on her body tightly wasn't making him feel suddenly parched.

Her hand continued to venture up his arm, and eventually the side of his neck. As it followed the line of his jaw, Bryce couldn't help but lean closer.

Nothing was stopping him at the moment.

Miles away from being sober, his lips blew a short burst of air into the woman's bare neck, after which he got the chance to breathe in a whiff of her perfume.

The jasmine scent was all too familiar. It conjured the image of the woman who Bryce fled away from tonight.

Heather.

Snapping out of the trance, he took a step back. Gone was the sexual tension that floated in the air mere seconds ago. Bryce only shook his head to the woman and paid his tab, before almost sprinting out into the cold rain that continued to flood the concrete pavement.

He let the drops of water wash all over him until he was soaked. With it, the inevitable tears began to fall, which he didn't hold back. He also didn't mind how it easily reduced the numbing effect of the bottle of Jack Daniels that he just consumed.

Like a thief in the night, the woman of his dreams snatched what was left of Bryce's vulnerable heart. He knew, deep down, that it would take a long time before he can get it back.

***

"Breaking news. Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson pleads guilty as co-conspirators of the kidnapping of Senator Ed Farrugia and Edenbrook doctor Heather Song."

"This is following an intensive investigation by the joint special task force created as the public clamored to protect Massachusetts famed senator.

"We are joined today by one of the victims, Senator Ed Farrugia, after he gave his testimony today at the Boston courthouse."

The video flicked from a female news anchor to the steps of the city's courthouse, where the politician was joined by Chief DA Tanaka. Heather's hazel eyes however wasn't on the prominent people in the screen, but instead drawn to the tall figure standing beside the older man, his intimidating stature made more pronounced by the sharp gray suit that contoured just enough to please.

Bryce.

Saying his name, even in her mind, made her involuntarily shudder with regret, aware that between them was an undeniable attraction that she just couldn't shake off. Ever since her kidnapping, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about what could've been. Was it just too late for them? Will it only remain a connection that can never be explored? Will it ever be something more? She knew, deep down, if she could change the world overnight, she wanted to try. If there was anything she could learn from her almost dying, it was the sobering truth that life was too short to be restrained by inaction.

But she hadn't been able to speak to him for a while now. He didn't answer his phone nor returned any of her texts or messages. She hoped to get the chance when she was scheduled for her recorded testimony. To her dismay, another ADA visited her and took her witness account.

She thought he was just busy with the case, but she sensed that he was avoiding her altogether. Her free time provided her so many hours to rack her brain for the reason why. To this day, that question was left unanswered.

Danny raised his gaze to Heather, as he felt her pulse beat faster than normal. He turned to the TV monitor in the hospital room, stifling a chuckle as he found the reason behind her palpitations.

"Let's try to do this again," Danny said, making Heather's attention swivel to him.

"Why? Something wrong?" she asked, obviously confused.

This time, Danny snickered, grabbing the remote from her and switched the channel. The gesture was enough to make her fluster as it dawned on her what the nurse was insinuating.

"I can't put your last BPM on your chart, Heather. We dont want Dr. Ramsey to not sign off on your discharge papers today. Two weeks of him pestering us is enough torture to last a lifetime," he scoffed jokingly, referencing how the senior attending relentlessly chased the hospital staff to put her case on priority.

She curtly nodded, her mentor's crass actions embarrassing her further.

"Thanks, Danny." she sheepishly smiled, hoping the two words were enough to express her appreciation of how the hospital helped her get back on her feet during the roughest period of her life yet.

Danny returned her gesture, before getting back to taking her pulse. Satisfied, he recorded it to the clipboard in his hand, as her friends thundered into the room.

Sienna, Elijah, Jackie and Aurora all stepped inside, each carrying an assortment of food items. They moved their Sunday brunch to that day in celebration of Heather's discharge. The welcome noise warmed her heart, their usual banter flowing like music to her ears.

The thundering of her deep-seated emotions momentarily toned down, as she enjoyed the company of the small family she found in Edenbrook.

Outside, the weather was warm with no clouds threatening to dampen the surroundings.

It was going to be a good day.

***

As the last of the questions were addressed and the cameras were turned away, Bryce sighed in relief.

With the news crews dispersed, Chief Tanaka left to head back to the DA's office, leaving him as second chair to wrap up all the remaining paperwork. He strutted into the courthouse, the ADA facade well in effect.

It was an understatement to say that the past few weeks were hectic.

Interviewing Declan Nash and Jordan Anderson was like being pulled into opposite poles. Their personalities were so polarizingly different that Bryce suspected that there was a more to the case than what appears.

So he advised the special task force to dig into that angle. The FBI's investigation is still ongoing, and he is betting against it finishing soon.

Today was a day of accomplishments, and Bryce's mood was better than it was ever since that night. Or so he thought.

As his mind shifted back into the present, he caught the unwelcome sight of Agent Rafael Aveiro conversing with someone in the hallways. He managed to hear a glimpse of the conversation as they got into earshot.

"You're background would be invaluable to us, Agent Rafael," the strange man in the tweed-colored jacket said.

"This is such a timely offer that I couldn't refuse. I'll let you know as soon as I wrap up my last case." Bryce heard Raf say.

"Of course. But please don't keep us in the Interpol on our toes, Agent."

"Of course, Agent Nazario."

Taken aback, he stopped, trying to understand what had just transpired. Why was Rafael taking a job with the interpol?

Once Bryce saw that the special investigator was alone, he approached him, words blazing.

"Interpol? Seriously, Raf, this soon?"

Raf turned to face him, surprised at Bryce's sudden interjection.

"I don't see the need to explain myself to you, ADA Lahela." He politely said as he begun to walk away.

"But you just got back together! Why leave for an overseas job this soon when she needs you the most?" Bryce's voice rose, echoing into the nearly full hallway. He honestly didn't mind, weeks worth of bottled up frustration threatening to surface.

A more puzzled expression filled Rafael's face, the line of interrogation making him turn around and stare back at the prosecutor.

Rafael recognized the look on Bryce's face. It was a mirror of his own haunted reflection. Of a lost love, never to return. The confusion gave way to understanding.

It made him soften his stance, and place a brotherly hand on the lawyer's shoulder.

"Look, I don't know why you think that, but Heather and I..." he paused, taking a deep breath as he tried to bury the painful memory of their goodbye into the back of his mind. "We broke up. The same night that she was admitted to Edenbrook after her kidnapping, we talked and agreed to go our separate ways."

Bryce couldn't believe what he was hearing, his knees weakening with the revelation. Amber eyes widened in shock and feeling like an idiot at the same time.

He smiled despite himself, the nightmares of his imaginary rejection transformed into a wonderful dream. The door that he thought was closed is now unlocking, and he was determined to blow it wide open.

With a hasty thank you and goodbye to Raf, he turned the soles of his leather shoes and raced to the door of the courthouse.

Bryce didn't dare waste another minute to look back.

Tags: @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #rafael aveiro #bryce lahela #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #rafael aveiro x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices fic writers creations #choices fanfiction #open heart 2 #choices #pixelberry #fics of the week

10 notes · View notes