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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

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The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 5 - A Question of Trust

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: First day in New York brings new challenges and fears. But one thing is certain, your relationship with Neil is changing.

Warnings: Minor cursing.

Author’s Notes: So this is sort of an unplanned early update because I loved what I wrote and had to share it with you. Hope you enjoy this quieter chapter before things kick off very soon...

Also this has been severely inspired by ‘A Question of Lust’ by Depeche Mode so I’ll post the link in another post!

Despite being severely jet-lagged, the next two days, you did not get much rest. You and Neil were thoroughly briefed by the TP on Saturday, and the plan seemed simple: arrive in New York; check into the hotel; research the target (a weapons dealer named Steiner); set up a meeting with Mr. Steiner; rehearse the cover; get intel; leave New York unscathed but with valuable information.

You have received a Glock (just in case), a burner phone with emergency contacts, and a dossier filled with the information about your cover. As far as you have managed to learn so far, you and Neil were supposed to pose as ‘partners in crime’ hoping to get your hands on the mysterious nuclear material. It did seem easy. But that did not help the stress you felt the closer you got to the departure.

Monday morning, you stepped onto the Amtrak train to New York Penn Station and followed Neil to the First-Class compartment. You had two seats with a large table and a window in a relatively quiet carriage. This time, sadly, you have not taken your notes with you and have been desperately looking for a distraction. Neither of you has mentioned the moment on the terrace, and you felt like it was a cause of mild tension. But instead of addressing it in any way, you decided to stare out of the window. After going through the same onboard magazine for the third time, you heard Neil clear his voice deliberately. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow:

“I’m bored” he shrugged and grinned at your eye roll “Want to talk?”

You searched his face for any signs of wicked intents. But he seemed genuinely interested.

“As long as you won’t make me drink again and embarrass myself” you turned towards him with a pointed look.

“I promise” he smiled and leaned onto the table separating your seats

“However I must correct you and say that you haven’t embarrassed yourself on the plane” when you glared at him with disbelief, he added “At all”

“If you say so”

His piercing blue eyes were fixed on you with fondness that made you want to turn away. But you held his gaze until he grinned and asked:

“Excited to go on your first mission?”

“If by excited you mean scared then yeah” he laughed, and you beamed back “Though I suppose if my first outing is with you I should consider myself lucky”

“Oh you’re certainly lucky in that regard” he winked, grinning smugly “I’ll keep you entertained”

The smirk and look in his eyes were far from innocent and you felt your face heat up at the sight. But you did not want to let him win easily.

“I’ve no doubts about that” you stared back defiantly.

Your staring contest finished when he smiled and reached out for your hands that were folded on the table. He squeezed them.

“We’ll manage just fine together, I’m sure. It’s a simple mission” he reassured you softly.

“Can’t say I’m convinced” you looked back sceptically and frowned “I’m a bit surprised you’re willing to go into the field with a rookie”

“TP said it has to be us” he shrugged and leaned back into his seat.

Your hands felt cold without his touch.

“You do trust him enough to do anything he says?” you asked with curiosity.

All that you have learned during the meeting with the Protagonist was still fresh on your mind. You struggled to understand how on earth you could be important to the story. But it was made quite clear that you would have to wait for any answers.

“Yes” Neil’s tone was quite serious “I’ve learnt from past mistakes that he really does know how things will go”

You haven’t missed the distant look of sadness in his eyes. You made a mental note to one day learn the story. He must have noticed your scrutiny as he schooled his features and added:

“And it’s better to listen to him. No matter how difficult it might be” he looked at you with a faint smile.

You did wonder if he thought about the moment on the terrace in that instant. But before you could dare ask, he closed the subject with a definite statement:

“I know for a fact that you’ll be much better than a random rookie” he grinned, and despite feeling conflicted, you smiled back.

Then he quickly changed the topic to New York itself, and you rather enjoyed talking to him about your travels and experiences with other cities. While you were still stressed, when you arrived at Penn Station, you were much less tense. The conversation has distracted you enough to forget about the worries. You wondered if that was why Neil wanted to talk in the first place.

*** You took a taxi to the hotel, which was situated far off from the main city centre. It was a comfortable and stylish four-star establishment with a booking system that did not mind fake identities. Your rooms were on the sixth floor and were joined by a set of locked doors, as you were informed by the receptionist (with a wink). You were not sure what to do with this information but, as usual, Neil’s charm saved you.

“Thank you, miss” he smiled at the clerk and snatched your keys from the counter “It’s good to know” he smirked and walked away.

You followed him to the lift, where you could finally ask:

“What was that about?”

“I suppose she thought that we’re not here for…” he took a moment to think about the right word “Strictly business reasons” he enunciated every syllable “But rather for fun while keeping up the appearances”

Your eyes widened at the implication.

“Right” you didn’t dare think why she got that impression.

Neil chuckled as he led you to the rooms, pausing to hand you the key. Only once you saw him open the door to his room you sobered up:

“Wait, what do we do now?”

“Come to my room once you’re ready. I won’t lock the door” he winked and disappeared into his room.

You stared at the closing door before shaking your head and entering your own room.

He can be impossible sometimes, you thought with fondness and disbelief.

The room was quite big, with a queen-sized bed, a sofa with a coffee table, and a large bathroom. The view came out onto the maze of skyscrapers that you associated with New York. The barely visible sky was grey and threatening with rain. You decided to quickly shower, change into more comfortable clothes, and fix your make-up. All that took twenty minutes and you were quite proud of yourself. You opened the door leading to Neil’s room and hesitated at the second set. Trying the handle you found it unlocked and tentatively came in.

“Finally” he gave out a theatrical sigh from his place on the sofa.

He changed into yet another shirt and dress trousers. You did sometimes wonder how many sets of those he had.

The next thing you noticed was that while you were getting ready Neil has ordered quite a big selection of food from the room service. It has taken the whole space on the coffee table, along with water and teapot.

“Wow” you grinned at the sight, feeling your stomach rumble.

“Thought we might need it” he shrugged and motioned for you to join him on the sofa.

“I know I did” you quickly dove for the toasties before he could snatch them.

He laughed at your enthusiasm for food, but you could not care less at the moment. You felt his fond gaze for a little longer before he too started the feast. After you ate, Neil cleared the table and spread out the dossier along with any files you received.

“So…” you both looked down at the mess of papers and photos “Today we need to get to that bar” you squinted at the name “Benny’s and set up a meeting with Steiner?” you looked up at Neil for clarification.

“Yeah, that’s it” he nodded and picked up one of the documents “We’re a pair of weapon dealers who want to know a bit more about that mysterious piece of plutonium” he explained.

“That’s a manageable cover” you mused while trying to memorise your new identity.

“Well, I was hoping they’d make us fake married or something” Neil retorted innocently, and you glared at him sharply.

“What? Wouldn’t you want to be married to me?” the wounded look on his face made you laugh.

“Sounds horrible” you swatted his arm playfully and reached for another document.

But before you got that far, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. You met his soft gaze and smiled back, admiring the sparks in his blue eyes. After a beat, he let go of your hand.

“I think we’d be a perfect match” he sent you one last smug smile and got up “We should get going if we want to catch Raul and establish contact” he added.

A perfect match? You observed as Neil put on the tie and suit jacket and considered his words with curiosity. You did like him, there was no denying that. And you felt like he enjoyed your company too. But before you could dwell on it too long, you felt his intense gaze. Caught in the act of staring, you felt yourself blush. But he only grinned and offered you a hand to get up from the sofa.

“C’mon, we need to get going” he ushered you towards your room.

Right, first mission. You took a deep breath and started to get ready. The time has come.

*** The first part of the plan went without any major fuck-ups. You and Neil met Raul at the bar, and he gave you all the information you could need about Steiner. It was clear that you both had to learn your roles perfectly as he tended to be suspicious. After that Neil went away to set up the meeting with the weapons dealer for tomorrow’s evening. All you could do was entertain Raul with random stories from your training which proved rather easy.

Once Neil came back, you both decided to go back to the hotel to get much-needed rest and prepare. The fact that so far everything seemed to go along the plan, made you feel a tiny bit more confident. But nerves were still there, and you could barely contain them when you made it back to the hotel. You lied to Neil that you were tired and shut the door before you could even look at him again.

But after showering, changing into sleeping clothes, and having a cup of herbal tea, nothing got better. You tried lying down in the darkened room only to quickly get up with a pain in your chest and shallow breath. After sitting in the dark and trying to calm down your racing thoughts for close to an hour, you gave up. You put on a cardigan and looked at the door leading to Neil’s room. It was past 1 AM but you had the feeling he was not sleeping. You knew there was no way you were able to rest now. Oh, why the hell…

You tried the handle of the connecting doors and found it unlocked. Of course.

Neil’s room was covered in darkness, save for a bedside table lamp casting a warm glow. You were struck by how neat everything looked, with his suitcase in one corner and clothes folded on the chair. Only the bed was in disarray with papers thrown on it and Neil himself sat in the middle. He glanced up as you came in, surprised:

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I tried but…” you shrugged helplessly “Just couldn’t get my brain to shut up”

The worry in his gaze made you freeze. He was sat on the bed with ruffled hair and a wrinkled shirt. He was probably very tired. And you were weak and overreacting again. Suddenly you realised what a mistake it was to come here:

“Sorry, I shouldn’t… I’ll go now” you blurted and started to turn away.

You heard the rush of papers falling onto the floor and then Neil’s voice.

“No, stay” he sounded concerned.

Slowly you turned around to face him again, trying to put on a brave face. It was pointless though because he saw right through you. He got up from the bed, scattering all the documents onto the floor. Seeing you hesitate, he crossed the distance and took your hand in his, guiding you towards the bed. That only increased your panic.

“What are you doing?” you tried not to step on all the papers “Don’t we need those?”

He looked down at the pile with a surprised look, almost as though he forgot about them. Then he quickly made up his mind and looked up at you with determination.

“We do. But more so I need you to calm down so get in” he gestured towards the bed.

Your mind was blank. There was so much that could go wrong. But he noticed your uncertainty and unceremoniously pushed you onto the bed. You stared in shock before recovering enough to retort:

“You know I’m pretty sure there are better ways to make a lady sleep with you” You heard him laugh as he collected the pages.

“Certainly” finally he got up and dumped the pile onto the coffee table “But it worked” he shrugged.

Neil watched as you clumsily shifted to sit up with your back against the headboard and then joined you. After a few minutes of awkward silence, you asked:

“Sure you don’t want me to leave so you can go back to work?”

You felt extremely self-conscious in your sleeping clothes, with uncombed hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Neil’s intense gaze did not help it either but before you could even think about getting up, he replied:

“Perfectly sure” he smiled at you softly “Now tell me what’s wrong”

You sighed and let yourself relax slightly, leaning on the pillows. Staring straight ahead at the wall, you explained:

“I felt very anxious and hoped that maybe the shower and tea will help. Nothing changed so I tried to go to sleep but… my chest started aching and I couldn’t breathe” you finished while feeling the tears well up at the recollection.

You felt the bed shift as Neil moved closer and took one of your hands. You watched with curiosity as he traced the lines of your veins to the pulse point on the wrist and held his pointer finger there, checking your heart rate. You felt a nervous flutter at the gentle way he cradled your hand. You were pretty positive he will detect a pulse of 100bmp. After thirty seconds of intense focus, Neil released his hold on your hand and smiled:

“Apart from a very fast heart rate, you’ll be fine” he winked, and you looked down flustered.

But you were not allowed to get lost in shame for too long as he scooted even closer, leaving no space between you, and gingerly placed his arm around your shoulders.

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking at you with genuine concern.

Your breath hitched at the closeness of him, but you quickly suppressed the feeling and nodded. After a few more tense breaths, you relaxed into the embrace, feeling him trace circles on your shoulder.

“What made you so scared?” his voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Think it’s just the idea of the first mission” you admitted “And ever since you and TP told me about the plan and the algorithm, I felt this tension rise and I guess it just hit the fan” sighing helplessly, you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I probably would have been more concerned if you took all this without questions”

“I guess I reacted that way because I never expected to be important… Definitely not in something of that scale” once you started talking the honesty did not seem to stop “I’ve spent so much time looking for my place in the world and now when I think I’ve found it, I’m not sure I’m good enough”

After your admission, you felt Neil’s embrace tighten. You propped your head on his shoulder, so it was resting in the crook of his neck again, enjoying the warmth and safety.

“You are more than good enough” when he finally spoke you were almost surprised “And I’m not only saying that because I believe in what TP says”

You looked up at Neil and met his earnest gaze.

“Since the day we met and I showed you how inversion works, I knew that you will be amazing at it” he smiled at you softly.

“Even though I nearly passed out in the training zone?”

“Yeah” he grinned at the memory fondly “I just had the feeling that you’re supposed to work with us, with me”

You would swear that his eyes briefly glanced at your lips. But as quickly as the thought entered your mind, he reached out to brush away a stray hair from your forehead and you lost the ability to think entirely. He tucked the strand with care and brushed your jawline with his thumb.

“TP was right, you know” he was looking at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“About?”

“Me taking care of you” he smiled and admired your dazed expression. You could only stare, too overwhelmed with feelings to say anything. And you probably would have kept on staring if it was not for the extreme tiredness that begun to catch up. Before you could say anything, a wide yawn made you cover your face with your hands. The spell was broken.

“Think you’re tiny bit tired” Neil grinned at your sheepish expression.

“No shit” you mumbled and moved to get up, but he kept his grip steady.

“You can stay here” he answered your surprised glance.

You quickly considered the options, admitting that it was tempting. You felt safe with Neil and his presence definitely made you calmer. But it did feel like crossing some lines.

He was still looking at you with that hopeful eyes and that sealed the deal.

“Thanks… for everything” you smiled at him, hoping to convey even a quarter of what you felt through it.

“Always” he grinned back.

You both quietly shifted so that you were lying down with a small gap between you, both staring at the ceiling. After a few quiet moments, he turned off the bedside lamp and turned to face you.

“Good night” you heard him whisper and turned to look at him too.

“Sweet dreams, Neil” you replied while trying to make out his features in the darkness of the room.

“Oh I know they will be sweet” you could picture the sly grin.

And with that, he turned onto the other side. No longer than five minutes later you heard his breath level off and make way for quiet snores. You could not help but smile at the adorable sound. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad in the end.

*** You have not slept so soundly in days. When you woke up, the first thought that came to your mind was that you were being cuddled. An arm was thrown over your waist and you felt warm breath near your ear. Then as the morning fog slowly ascended, you remembered it all clearly. Neil. As though he was reading your mind, a second later you felt him stir and mumble:

“Morning sunshine” he sounded cheery.

Before you could react you felt him brush his lips over your temple. You froze, feeling the flutters in your stomach return with tripled force. Taking a deep breath to calm down you slowly squeezed the hand that was draped over your waist and sat up.

“Hi” you glanced at him only to be astounded by how unkempt and yet adorable he looked.

His hair was completely ruffled, with strands sticking out in every direction. And the shirt and trousers were crumpled to the point of needing starch treatment to ever be wearable again. And yet he still looked good. Especially with that boyish smile and sparkling eyes. One could suppose that you were not immune to him. At all.

“Do you always sleep in that?” you gestured towards his outfit, trying to divert your thoughts.

“No, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you last night” it was that shit-eating grin again “Did you sleep well?” he sat up now too but kept his distance.

“Very well” you admitted with a blush “But it’s late and we should probably prepare” you used the most sensible excuse to get up.

Before you could do that, Neil reached out and took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers.

“Just don’t you dare feel sorry for this” you knew he was serious from the look in his eyes.

“I’ll try” you smiled slightly and used this chance to leave his room in haste.

While you did indeed try not to feel embarrassed about what happened, it was difficult. You were not used to people seeing you as vulnerable as you were last night. But at the same time, he did not seem to mind and that took you by surprise. His kindness and thoughtfulness were certainly not helping in trying to be more objective about him.

You managed to get changed and prepare yourself for the day relatively fast, considering what a mess your thoughts were. Once you were done you grabbed the needed documents from the coffee table and made beeline for Neil’s room without thinking too much. As usual, the door was unlocked.

The moment you stepped into his room you knew you have fucked up. He was there, just in front of where you entered, in a new pair of trousers and no shirt. Your eyes widened when you registered that last detail.

“Shit, sorry! I shouldn’t just come in…”

“No worries, darling” Neil drawled out the nickname expressively.

He looked at you with a grin, clearly enjoying it more than you were. It seemed as though he slowed down the process of putting on a new shirt just to tease you. It worked. You stared at his rather fit body and felt your cheeks grow warmer. He caught your wandering gaze with a wink and held it with an expression that was far from innocent. The knowing smirk told you that he was aware of what he was doing. But still, you held your ground, letting yourself openly look at his toned arms and chest. If he didn’t mind then there was no harm in looking, right?

Finally, he finished the process of buttoning up the shirt, while still keeping his gaze fixed on you. He assessed your expression with one last look and grinned:

“Let’s get to work, sunshine”

You wanted to punch him in that perfect jaw.

#tenet #Neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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cherryblossomstars · 4 years

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Five Firsts (R. Edogawa)

for my lovely @nerdygremlin also the formatting is wonky and there’s a lack of capitlization because i wrote it all on my phone oopsies

genre: fluff/very slight angst if you squint

word count: 1,279

summary: five firsts with ranpo. its exactly what the title says ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

warnings: kidnapping but its nothing bad or graphic i promise

I. first meeting

“so can i?” the man in front of you asked.

you’d come to the armed detective agency in hopes of a job as a clerk and almost as soon as you were accepted, the man named ranpo had asked if he could show off his deduction skills.

“how are you going to show off, exactly?”

he hums, “i can tell you your exact routine and everything you had to do to get from your house to here.”

“i’ll pass.”

he almost looks shocked, but it turns into a pout that he tries (and fails) to hide by shoving a snack into his mouth, “but why?”

“i think life is more interesting if you leave some mysteries as they are- mysteries.” you shrug.

he stares at you for another few moments before deciding you were no longer interesting and instead focuses back on his work.

II. first hug

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. not for the clerks, at least. but the damn ADA just has to have to many enemies, don’t they?

and so here you were, trapped in some ranky, underground hideout with naomi and haruno.

it wasn’t scary, though. if anything, it was more inconvenient and annoying. you’d have to make up for lost time when you got back, meaning you’d have to speed up on some of the assignments you were given. on top of that, you can’t even do some of that work tonight because you’d promised ranpo you’d go out for some drinks with him.

seriously, what a pain. then, there’d have to be reports made and filed because of this kidnapping incident. you have absolute faith the agency would rescue the three of you, but just the thought of the amount of work you’d have when you got back makes you kind of wish the kidnappers had decided to off you anyway.

and so, when the large bolted doors were inevitably busted down, the agency left standing tall and proud by the giant hole that used to be the door, you internally groaned. they never do anything subtly, do they? you know they could handle this carefully and quietly, but they wouldn’t.

instead, you’re forced to watch as kenji, tanizaki, dazai, atsushi, and kyouka speed around the room, effectively defeating every last person until only one- their leader- was left.

yosano inspected the three of you for injuries, sighing in disappointment when she found nothing but mere scratches. and when you were finally released from your binds, your vision was filled with brown and you were enveloped in warmth.

oh.

“hi ranpo,” you giggle against his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him as well.

he presses his face against your hair, “hi.”

you try not to pay attention to the knowing smirks dazai and yosano are throwing your way.

III. first... “fight”?

“ranpo.” you try to get his attention for the umpteenth time that day.

once again, you’re met with silence. you sigh, you had work to do and instead you’re forced to try and pull the giant man child out of the pouty mood that you caused.

“ranpo i said i was sorry already.” you frown, poking his cheek.

he simply whines and swats your hand away. “you’re only sorry you got caught.”

“...you’re right. i am only sorry i got caught. but i can make it up to you.” you roll your eyes, goodness he could be so dramatic.

“what happened?” atsushi asks, amusement twinkling in his eyes at the scene.

“betrayal, atsushi. the person i trust the most betrayed me.” ranpo whines at his coworker.

you roll your eyes, “i thought the president was the person you trusted most.”

“...the second person i trust the most has betrayed me!” he corrects himself.

“but what happened?” atsushi sends a pitying smile your way.

“i ate one of his snacks.”

“but they’re locked in a vault!” atsushi glances between the two of you, knowing how precious ranpo’s snacks are to him.

“haha... yeah... about that...” you steal a glance towards dazai, who was napping on his desk. but you know for certain your partner in crime and professional lock picker had taken a bag of chips and hidden it in one of his drawers as well.

it was a shame you were the one that got caught when that sly, sneaky bast-

“you were in cahoots with dazai!” ranpo exclaimed, practically vibrating at the thought that someone else had also gotten their hands on his snacks.

“well-“

“you cahooted!”

you glance at the floor, nodding in guilt. “i’ll buy you more, okay? we can go out shopping when we get off.”

for some reason, he looks like he’s won something, “okay!” and he’s suspiciously agreeable, too.

IV. first kiss

it happens under the moonlight and with the witness of the stars. along the harbor of yokohama, with the sky twinkling above you as if it knew what was about to happen.

it was as if the universe were witnessing a play, and a very well-anticipated scene were about to occur.

on a walk home from a night out with ranpo (you could call them dates, but nothing between you was official yet), you walked a few steps ahead of him, on your way to his house.

as much as he would love to be the one walking you home instead, he couldn’t work out the train station if his life depended on it.

a small, genuine smile found itself onto ranpo’s lips as he watched you ramble about your favorite show.

you were right, some mysteries were better left unsolved. the spontaneity he experienced when he was with you was something he looked forward to everyday.

for everyday more, if it was something he was allowed to have.

and when your walking had slowed down, enough for the both of you to fall into a rhythm alongside each other, he’d taken your hand and pressed his forehead against your own.

“hi ranpo,” you giggled, soft green eyes looking directly into yours. despite it being your favorite view- the rare view of his eyes open- you couldn’t help but close your eyes.

“hi.” and when you felt the press of his lips against your own, you’re sure the sky shined even brighter than before.

V. first time he realizes he’s in love

he says i love you in his own little ways.

you get access to his snack vault after he gave you the code to it.

his immediate instinct to protect you. it doesn’t go unnoticed by you when the port mafia decides once again to barge into the agency and ranpo’s hand twitches in your direction, despite knowing very well you’ll be alright.

ranpo’s annoyed glare at dazai when dazai decides that boundaries have no business being between you and him.

when he’s bored, and decides to sit in your chair and have you in his lap while you work, tapping away at your laptop and he corrects any mistake you may have made.

but the first time he really knows he’s in love is when dazai was fucking around in the office, as usual.

he’d tossed ranpo kunikida’s notebook, telling him to open the page that he’d bookmarked for ranpo.

ah. the infamous 58 conditions to be doppo kunikida’s partner.

ranpo grimaces, “kunikida... this is too much.”

“well you already have someone so leave me alone!” kunikida yells, trying to snatch the notebook back from ranpo while simultaneously trying to kick dazai away.

if he were to have any condition to be his ideal partner, ranpo thinks, he’d only have one. the only condition needed to be fulfilled would be that they’d have to be you.

fin.

#ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #reader insert #ranpo edogawa x reader

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Fall From Grace, Pt. 9

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Fandom: The Good Fight. Reference: S4, E.4, “The Gang is Satirized and Doesn’t Like It.” CW: Angst, language, fluff. AN: Our lovely REE was on The Good Fight for all of 3 minutes so I am taking lots of liberties. I am obsessed with the anti-Barba. He was just delicious.

WC: 2313

Six months.

It had been six months since you moved to the East Coast and enjoyed all that NYC had to offer. However fast paced Chicago seemed to be, New York City moved just a little bit faster.

You had crammed a bagel with an obscene amount of cream cheese in your mouth when a plethora of emails with electronic case filings came through your inbox. You switched gears and began associating the files with the respective cases when one in particular caused you to freeze.

STR Laurie

Bryan Kneef, Esq.

233 South Wacker Drive, Suite 8000

Chicago, IL 60606-6448

Attorneys for Defendants

APPEARANCE OF COUNSEL

LIBERTY LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY,

HOLBROOK SECURITIES LLC (Defendants)

Allison Kensington (Plaintiff)

Pearson Specter

Civil Action No. 10-cv-3752

TO THE CLERK OF THE COURT AND ALL PARTIES OF RECORD: PLEASE TAKE NOTICE that the undersigned is admitted to practice in this court, and hereby enters an appearance as counsel in this case for defendants. Please serve all papers related to this action on the undersigned.

By: Bryan Kneef

STR Laurie

[email protected]

Attorneys for Defendants

You swallowed the half-chewed bagel, grimacing as it scraped your throat as it went down.

“Motherfucker!” You swore loudly, slamming your hand on your desk.

“Am I interrupting?”

You jumped in your seat. You looked up and found yourself face to face with Rachel, who was standing in your doorway.

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment. “Oh, uh…”

“Safe to say you saw the notice of appearance.” Rachel remarked, her brow cocked.

You nodded. “Yup.” You smacked your lips on the end of the P, emphasizing it.

“I wanted to know if you still wanted in on the case.” Rachel sat in the chair in front of you, her arms crossed. You had been at the firm maybe two weeks tops before you spilled everything to Rachel about Bryan.

“Yes, I do.” You replied. “And before you ask me if I'm tough enough to be in there, I want you to know that I am tough enough.”

“That's not what I wanted to ask.” Rachel replied. “I want to know if you think it will rattle him.”

“Frankly, I think it was purposefully done.” You sighed. “Is there a deposition?”

“Of course there is. Monday.”

The week surprisingly went quickly, and Monday came before you knew it. You looked over your appearance in the mirror. Suddenly your go-to pantsuit and button down didn’t cut it anymore. You hemmed and hawed in front of your closet and settled on a crisp white top and a muted grey pencil skirt. You popped the collar slightly and rolled up your sleeves.

Your mind flew to the memories of what happened whenever you did wear pencil skirt – somehow it’d end up over your hips or by your ankles with Bryan bringing you to the height of pleasure. You pinned your hair up and kept your makeup minimal, with the exception of a bold lip.

Your heels clacked against the pavement of the city’s sidewalk as you approached Pearson Specter. And sure enough, Bryan was in front of the building, pacing while on the phone.

You ducked your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you. But curiosity got the best of you and you looked over your shoulder as you entered through the revolving door. Your eyes met Bryan’s as he pivoted while on the phone. You quickly turned and hurried into the building.

---

Bryan walked down the hall of the firm after being directed to the conference room. He was anxious to see you. He knew he was playing with fire being here in New York. When the case fell in his lap, he knew he had to see it through and maybe, just maybe, see you. He missed you immensely. Truth be told, no other woman had ever gotten to him like you did. Through the glass, he noticed you setting up and his pulse quickened. Bryan rapped on the door before swinging the door open.

“Good morning.” You clipped. ‘Shit. Stay strong’ you thought to yourself as you drank him in. You nearly forgot how good he looked in his three piece suit. His gaze was smoldering and you shifted uncomfortably in your stance.

“Y/N.” Bryan greeted, with a small smile. “You look well.”

“How’s everyone in Chicago?” You replied, ignoring his compliment as you stapled some paper together.

“Good. You’re remembered fondly.” Bryan replied.

“I mean, can’t say I am surprised.” You retorted, as you finished organizing the conference table. “I’ll be sitting in on the depo, just so you know.”

“You think being in the room is going to keep me from doing my job?” Bryan asked, his brows furrowed.

You pointed at Bryan and then at yourself. “Aren’t I the reason you even signed on counsel?”

“Liberty Life is my client. Of course, I had to show up.” Bryan replied.

“So what – you figured you’d orchestrate this stunt and then –”

“I didn’t orchestrate shit.” Bryan sighed, irritated. “I am doing my job.”

You cocked your head and leaned over the table slightly. “Is this a joke?”

Bryan walked around to where you were standing. He was dangerously close to you and your eyes met his. “I miss you. Can’t we just talk?”

You stood silently, racking your brain as to what to say. “About what? Us? What is there to say? Our relationship…”

You moved to push back some hair when Bryan noticed the sparkling bracelet on your wrist. “You are wearing it.”

You looked at the tennis bracelet. “Oh. Yes. It’s beautiful. Thank you. It was very generous of you.”

Bryan reached for your hand and at the same time, Rachel entered the room. “Am I interrupting?”

Bryan shirked back his hand. “No. Just catching up. Reminding Y/N that Chicago has better hot dogs. And that we should have never let her go.”

---

The deposition was grueling, lasting a few hours. Bryan was relentless in his questioning. As he fired his questions, your mind was transported back to the case you first helped him with and how you got to watch him in court. Your whatever it was, with Bryan was complicated and was tempestuous. Deep down though, you still had deep feelings for Bryan. You spent your first month in New York crying your eyes out, wondering if you had made a mistake leaving.

You escorted your client out and then returned to gather the rest of your belongings. You paused before entering the conference room again, watching Rachel and Bryan speak. They shook hands and you wondered what that was about.

Finally you took a breath and entered. “Everything okay?”

Rachel smiled. “I think we’ll be settling. Bryan has made a very generous offer.

You smiled. “That’s great. I am happy to hear that.” While you were happy for your client, you were disappointed because you knew that Bryan would be leaving town. You groaned inwardly, hating how Bryan caused such a mix bag of feelings within you.

“Walk me out?” Bryan asked.

“Sure.” You blurted out, not even giving it so much as a second thought.

The walk to the elevator bank was silent. Finally, Bryan spoke. “Can we go out to dinner?”

You raised a brow and sucked in a breath. “That … sounds sincere.” You searched Bryan’s eyes and realized he was indeed being genuine. “Okay.”

“Is your number the same?” Bryan asked and you nodded. “I’ll text you the details. I’ll see you tonight.” Bryan replied as the elevator dinged, signaling its arrival.

You bid Bryan adieu and went back to your office. Despite the piles of work on your desk, you found yourself distracted. You couldn’t focus one bit. Your mind kept going back to the events prior. You kept checking your phone to see if Bryan had texted you.

Groaning, you took your phone and threw it into your drawer. You opened a new browser window and were just about to throw yourself completely into your work when your phone buzzed loudly from inside your drawer.

It was Bryan. Reservations made at The River Cafe. 7pm.

You texted back. See you then.

You threw your phone back in the drawer and dropped your head into your hands. “What have I gotten myself into?” You wondered out loud. You knew you were playing with fire and that there was a real possibility of getting burned, but you looked forward to the date.

“It’s two people sharing a dinner. Nothing more. You got this.” You muttered to yourself. Part of you knew it was a lie. Part of you figured if you said it enough times, you’d believe it.

You left work an hour early to get ready. The River Café was situated right on the East River, just a hair south of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. You knew you needed enough time to get back to your apartment in Chelsea and then all the way down to Brooklyn. You decided to wear a cream-colored tulip hem skirt and a black lace deep v-neck blouse. The material of the blouse was quite thin and you decided to forego a bra to avoid lines. You knew your outfit was dangerous with Bryan. Simultaneously, you wanted Bryan to eat his heart out and maybe tempt fate so you could get dicked down.

You left your hair loose, just curling it slightly to make loose waves. You kept your makeup the same, just touching up your liner and lipstick. A spritz of perfume and a change of shoes to heeled strappy sandals and you were well on your way.

Your stomach lurched as the cab sped downtown to the restaurant. You watched as the city flew by in a blur and subconsciously you played with your tennis bracelet. The cab came to a stop and you found yourself in front of the restaurant.

Bryan was at the bar and the corner of his lips turned up into a devilish smile as you approached. Bryan wore dark jeans, a white button down and a matching navy suit jacket. The restaurant is gorgeous and the wafts of the various smells of food made your stomach rumble.

“You look gorgeous.” Bryan complimented as he embraced you into a hug.

“Thank you. You look great yourself.” You replied. You inhaled his cologne and emotions flooded you. ‘Relax.’ You commanded to yourself.

“I took the liberty of ordering you a glass of Malbec.” Bryan replied.

“You remembered.” You smiled as the bartender came over with a glass.

“Of course I did.” Bryan replied. “It’s your favorite.”

“The Catena Zapata Malbec Argentino for the lady, and an Old Fashioned for the gentleman.”

Bryan thanked the bartender, tipping him generously. You barely managed a sip when the hostess came over and seated you both at a table overlooking the East River – providing a clear shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. The view is breathtaking and you find yourself captivated by Bryan once more – all of the inner guards you had in place crumbled.

You both easily catch up over the last few months and dinner goes by quickly. Dessert is brought out and as you lick chocolate mousse off the spoon, you become acutely aware of Bryan’s lustful gaze on you. You give him a bashful look and you put the spoon down. Bryan paid for dinner while you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

The weather was warm and the breeze was inviting so you decided to walk along the Brooklyn Bridge back towards Manhattan. The tips of Bryan’s fingers grazed yours and the feeling is electric. The second time your fingers grazed his, they interlock and you hold hands the rest of the way until you get to the midpoint of the bridge.

You take in the view of Manhattan ahead. Bryan stood next to you, also taking in the view.

His hand traced concentric circles on your back and you involuntarily shivered. Bryan tilted your chin towards him. “I—I had a really nice time tonight.” You reply and you are surprised by how genuinely you mean it.

Bryan’s gaze lowered to your lips and instinctively you parted them. People on the bridge walk by but your oblivious to anyone else around you but Bryan. He pulled you flush against him. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck. Bryan’s lips ghosted yours and then he paused. You both breathed in each other’s air and finally you gave in, colliding your lips against his. His kisses taste like the mousse you shared and the cocktails he had had during dinner. His tongue swirled against yours. Arousal shot to your core. A hand slipped up the slope of your side and somehow, discreetly, Bryan cupped your breast. His thumb ran over a hardened nipple and you let out a quiet moan. Finally you pull away breathless. Your lipstick was smeared and you could see evidence of it on Bryan’s lips. “Bryan we can’t do this.”

Bryan’s brows knit together and jaw tightened. He pulled away from you and faced the view of Manhattan. “Why? Because we’re on the opposite sides of a case now? I settled.”

You don’t reply and you could feel your eyes brimming with tears.

“I still love you. I haven’t stopped loving you. I know I hurt you. And I have apologized.” Bryan replied, his voice clipped.

“I know you have.” You replied. Your voice cracks and you kick yourself inwardly.

“Then what is it?”

“I’m afraid.” You admitted. “I am scared you’re going to hurt me again.”

“I will do whatever it takes.” Bryan replied. “It won’t be easy since you decided to move to the wrong city.” He adds with a slight sneer.

You laughed haughtily, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t have had to move if you just treated me like a human and not as if I were disposable.”

“I told you I didn’t do the girlfriend thing. And then things got complicated. And I fucked up. It was all fucked. I…” Bryan paused. “I said I was sorry for fucks sake Y/N.”

You knew he was baring his soul. You turn back to him, and cup his bearded cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bryan furrowed his brow once more. “What the fuck does that mean? Does that mean you and I...”

You nodded slowly. “We’ll try again. Because the truth is that I still love you too. And we owe it to at least really try. No more hiding anything to anyone.”

Bryan pulled you into a kiss once more. The kiss was with such intensity, it left your breathless.

“Now would be the time for you to show me your bedroom.” Bryan growled in your ear.

You smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

TBC.

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#the good fight fanfic #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef imagine #brian kneef x reader #Brian kneef and reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

Winter prompt fill 67 for sternclay? Doesn’t have to be a wedding I just love the 2nd half of this prompt. nsfw would be great

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW

67. you were supposed to have a beautiful winter wedding but you were ditched during the vows and my idiot sibling/best friend just cracked a joke about how maybe I’d finally tell you how I feel about you and you h e a r d

“She’s not coming.” Joseph whispers over his shoulder.

“Joe, for all we know she got hung up in a dress emergency or something?” Lily, the best woman and Joseph’s sister, squeezes his shoulder.

When the groom turns his blue eyes on Barclay, the groomsman does his best impression of someone who thinks things will be fine.

“It’s only been five minutes.”

“Her entire wedding party is here without her. And they look as confused as we do.”

Barclay spots a member of the event staff slip in a side door and hand a piece of paper to Indrid, their friend who’s acting as an usher.

“I, ah, have some bad news.” The pale-haired man joins them at the front of the church, “it seems the bride has had a serious change of mind and will not be joining us.”

Joseph grabs the paper, reading it over as the bridal party crowds around him. The upshot of all the commotion, and the arguing that follows the commotion, is that the bride has indeed called off the wedding and is en route to an airport.

As the family confirms she’s alright, Joseph picks up the microphone.

“Obviously this is a, um, unexpected turn of events. It’s safe to say no one is getting married today, but everything is still in order for the reception and we’re all dressed up so, um, if people want to stay and take advantage of that, you’re welcome to. You’re also welcome to leave if you want.”

Several groups break off towards the reception hall, and Barclay pulls Joseph aside.

“Joe, are you sure? I mean, yeah, we’re all here, but I don’t think anyone is gonna hold it against you if you want to send everyone home.”

“It’s important to be flexible.” Joseph replies blithely. Barclay knows his best friend hates when plans change and is unlikely to suddenly lose that piece of his personality at the same moment he lost his fiancee.

“Besides, I’d hate for that menu you helped us pick out to go to waste.” There it is, the Joseph Stern Professional smile ™, a sign that Barclay’s hunch is right.

“Screw the menu, man, I’m worried about you.” Barclay sets a hand on either of his shoulders. Joseph’s gaze snaps all the way onto him, and he knows he is losing this argument.

“It’s still my wedding, Barclay. That means I get to run it in whatever way I think best.”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” He steps back, brushes lint from his arm, “you go on ahead. I join you in a sec.”

Joseph nods, turning to stride though the room in his dark suit, while Barclay watches the love of his life walk away.

-------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, I’m Barclay. You must be Joseph?” Barclay stands in the door of the dorm room, his backpack in his arms.

“Yes. Um, nice to meet you.” The other guy stands, black hair and well-fitting X-Files shirt making him look like Agent Mulder on his day off.

“I didn’t choose a side yet, it seemed fair to wait until we were both here. I’m partial to the left but that’s more habit than anything else.”

“I’m cool with that. I, uh, I don’t have a ton of stuff to unpack so, uh if you need help let me know.”

“Thank you.” Joseph smiles, taking his face from cute to heart-stoppingly handsome, and Barclay decides he hit the roommate jackpot.

Barclay didn’t fall for Joe so much as cliffdive, throwing himself after the feeling he got whenever Joe laughed at a joke or told him a secret or talked for fifteen minutes about the methodology flaws in Ghost Hunters. Yes, Joe was hotter than convection oven and Barclay wanted to fuck him on the floor of every space they ever lived in, but more than that Barclay was so happy with him, and his friend felt the same way.

The problem was, Barclay had a shy streak and was far from the only person to see Joe as a catch. And so they dated other people, sometimes happily and sometimes not, but never each other. By the time Joe met Iris, Barclay’s unrequited love had been thrumming in him so long it was no more than background noise. So when Joe ran proposal ideas by him, announced the weddings, asked Barclay to stand up with him, Barclay felt genuine happiness for him and the woman he loved. There’s no rule that says one cannot feel joy and knife-in-the-gut sorrow at the same time.

He’s only gotten better with age he thinks as Joe works the room, fielding condolences with ease. Barclay helped him choose the suit, black with blue lines in the stitching, because it flattered but did not flaunt the well-maintained figure beneath. The last time Barclay saw him in just his underwear was when they lived together after college, and he fumbled his phone when he saw him at the beach last summer. He can picture it so clearly, what that body looks like under those clothes, and it makes him want to scream

“This whole day has been full of surprises.” Indrid sits down next to him, glass of soda in hand.

“Kinda figured you and Duck would head home.”

“Most of our friends are here, and the food looks good. Not to mention we’re both worried about-” Indrid nods towards Joseph.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I admire his holding it together but, like, what if Duck had left you at the altar?”

“I’d have turned into a hideous red-eyed monster and flapped screeching into the night.”

“......”

“That was a joke.” Indrid grins.

“Right. Man, hard to tell with you sometimes.”

“While this is an upsetting situation, there is a bright side; maybe now you will finally tell Joseph how you feel.”

A crash makes them both turn in their seats; Joseph is wiping his dropped (plastic) cup up with a nearby napkin, well within earshot.

“Indrid I swear if he heard-”

“Oh, I am certain he did.”

“Dude” Barclay hisses as Joseph steals an unreadable glance at him.

“For goodness sake, you two are a good pair. A pair you’ve been dreaming about for years. Tell him.” With that the other man stands, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts. His thoughts are no help, so he joins Indrid, Duck, Aubrey, and Dani for some cake.

As the venue finally empties, he realizes he hasn’t seen Joe in an hour and panics until he finds him standing (swaying, really) in the staging room.

“You, hic, know, hic, this explains, hic, why she didn’t want to move until hic, after the wedding.”

“Seems like it’s for the best, going home to a place where all her stuff is would fucking suck.” Barclay puts an arm around him only for the shorter man to slump most of his weight into his chest.

“The hotel’s paid for, and I have a week hic of vacation and a packed car.”

“You’re not driving anywhere. I can and will lock you in a closet if you try.”

“Or you could, hic, come with me.”

“On your honeymoon?” Thank god Joe is too drunk to notice his voice creeping up.

“On my it’s this or be miserable t home trip. Please, Barclay? We can hic, swing by your place to get your stuff.”

Barclay says yes. Purely to help a friend in need and not because of how said friend feels pressed up against him.

They’re an hour out of the city when Joseph fumbles with his phone, “Change of plans, were going here instead of the hotel?”

“I thought the whole point was the hotel was paid for?”

“It is, by her family, so fuck it. I’ve always wanted to go here and it’s the kind of place she’d never let us stay.”

They take the next exit and find the highway North rather than East. By the time they reach the massive pink building with an airplane in the field out front, snow is falling and Joe is half-asleep, mumbling “okay” when Barclay says he’ll go get them a room. The clerk welcomes him, shows him a list of available rooms, and he notices a high number of them have heart-shaped bed, “tubs for two,” and the word “fantasy” in the name.

Just as he’s wondering what the fuck Joe’s gotten them into, he spots the perfect room at the bottom of the list.

“Got a surprise for you.” He helps Joe from the car and unlocks the door. His friend takes in the silver and green decor, the posters, and the UFO-shaped bed.

“This is the exact one I was hoping for.”

“I know, you giant nerd.”

“Be nice, big guy, or you’re sleeping on the couch.” Joe stumbles to the bed and starts stripping, at which point Barclay zips back outside to get their bags. By the time he’s back, Joe is under the covers and out cold. The king bed does look comfy…

Barclay sleeps on the couch.

-------------------------------------------------

Joe remains dead to the world until almost noon the next day, so Barclay works on his cookbook edits and sends yet another thank-you email to Mama for letting him take his vacation with such little notice. He grabs breakfast, including a sandwich for when Joe wakes up and some aspirin to go with his coffee.

“I hate myself.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Joe rolls over, dragging the pillow atop his head, “I didn’t mean to get so drunk, it’s just the only way I could get through all those conversations yesterday was to take a drink every time I felt like crumbling.”

Barclay sits on the bed, petting his head, “It’s okay, man, getting me to drive you to a weird sex hotel is not the worst thing you’ve done drunk.”

“I threw up in a mixer one time.”

“And I’ll never forgive you for it.” He laughs when Joe whacks him with a pillow. In the silence that follows, he remembers Indrid’s comment, and wonders if Joe does too.

“...Is this really a sex hotel? I just thought it was kitsch aimed at couples”

“Go look at the tub.”

Joe groans, stepping out of bed in just his--god help him--silk boxer briefs. They must have been under the suit.

“Are these...they are, there are handcuffs hanging by the tub. Well, weird as that is, I’m taking a bath.”

The day goes in an oddly non-awkward direction after that. They’ve lived together often enough that getting dressed and clean in close quarters is nothing new. Joe votes for hiding from the world bit longer, so they settle in on the very squishy bed and watch a silver plated T.V, Joe laughing whenever Barclay yells at cooking shows they way other people yell at football games.

He still sleeps on the couch that night.

The next day Joe is up bright and early, suggesting they drive to a nearby tourist trap, using his phone to pick out a breakfast place that serves Barclays favorite local coffee blend. They follow that same process the next two days; find some strange roadside attraction or nearby bookstore, eat, and return back to the motel to lay side by side on the bed and to read or watch T.V.

It’s as they’re wandering around a strange, knock-off Carhenge that Joe sighs, “I sort of saw it coming, you know? Iris leaving. I proposed because I cared about her, but she was the one who brought it up, and every time we were visiting her family or she got off the phone with them, she’d bring it up more forcefully. I think she was under more pressure to settle down than I grasped. If our places were switched, I might have run too. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to marry me.”

Barclay crunches to a stop in the snow “Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m exactly the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your family but not spend your life with. My job has weird hours and travel, my non-work clothes have cryptids on them, I can be too particular, and I’m not that exciting for someone whose job is special agent-”

“No, fuck that, you’re a catch.”

“You’re just used to me, big guy. Your objectivity is in question.”

“Yeah, well, you’re even more used to you, so I’m really the more objective one here.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Joe stares at his footprints, then elbows the cook, “come on, lets go get lunch.”

Barclay is still full and happy, having warmed up via a soak in the tub (where he thought of four different ways to use the cuffs and then had to calm down his cock enough to get out), when he comes into the main room and finds Joe staring at his phone.

“Oh shit, did she get in touch?”

“Yes. Iris, um, is on a cruise ship. As a yoga instructor. She says it’s something she’s dreamed of for years, that she’s sorry for hurting me, but that marrying me would have been a step in a life she did not want to lead. So. That’s that.” He puts the phone face down, cards his fingers through his hair, “Lord almighty I wish she’d just said no when I asked.”

“Me too.” Barclay imagines a different past, where Joe asked him instead, where he said yes because it’s what he’s been dreaming of since he was twenty-two. Where Joe is sitting in front of him, not sad-eyed and tired, but happy as can be.

---------------------------------------------

This hangover is somehow worse than the one the morning after his non-wedding. Then again, he drank more in a shorter period, hoping to drown out the memory of the words on the screen.

Or the words he overheard at the reception.

“Tell him how you really feel”

He’s had his suspicions about Barclay from time to time, most frequently when they were younger and he felt those deep brown eyes on his ass every time he turned around. But Barclay never took a chance; there were times after break-ups when Joe is certain anyone who was interested would have taken advantage of him being vulnerable and available, but instead Barclay cheered him up, the same way Joe did when Barclay’s relationships ended. Stern concluded neither of them wanted more.

He would have taken more in an instant. His love for Barclay walked the line between romantic and platonic, and he would have crossed it the moment Barclay asked him to.

Now, he’s bathing with his eyes shut because any light is murder on his skull, his best friend waking up on the couch where he’s insisted on staying because clearly Joe’s lost his appeal. Who’d want to sleep with someone who got roaring drunk and needed babysitting?

He pops aspirin, drinks water, and lays down with his sleep mask over his eyes. Barclay moves around the room, talking softly in that gentle baritone that, not for the first time, makes Stern wonder what he sounds like when he cums.

“You want me to run and grab breakfast?”

“No, I can get it for both of us. Lord knows you’ve done enough for me this week.”

“You gonna go downstairs blindfolded?”

“For you, I’ll risk a headache OW, owow.” His back locks up just as he tries to sit upright.

The bed sags, “Holy shit man, you’ve got a huge knot right here.”

“My back always does that when I’m stressed, it’ll be fine.”

“Nuhuh, lay down and let me see if I can get it out.” Barclay nudges him onto his stomach and he flops willingly, mask still on.

“You don’t need to Ohhhhhhhhhnnn, I forget about those bakers hands.”

“Gonna knead you like dough, babe.”

Stern blushes at the name; he was always a little jealous when his friend called his boyfriends that.

When thumbs pass below his shoulder-blades he moans, arches at the second of pain, “That’s it, that’s the epicenter.”

He can’t stop sighing as Barclay runs his hands over him, can’t stop wiggling his hips at every burst of relief. He pushes his ass up without meaning too, and a bitten-back whine reaches him.

Fuck it. Even if he’s about to make a huge mistake, he wont have to look Barclay in the eyes.

“What did Indrid mean? At the reception.”

“Uh.” Barclay’s hands still, “uh. That I was worried about you.”

“Try again.” He grinds his ass back deliberately.

“Joe, please, I’m hanging on by a fucking thread here. You’re underneath me shirtless and I am not gonna do this a dumb way.”

“Do what?”

“Tell you that, that I, no nope, I’m gonna do this back home, at the Lodge or something, make you dinner first and be all romantic so that you don’t think I’m talking with my dick when I say I love you.”

Barclay’s whole body tenses. Joe flips onto his back, regrets the sudden movement, and lifts his sleep mask. He takes one of his frozen hands from the air.

“I love you too.”

“Really?” Barclay sounds like a teenager whose crush just said yes to prom.

“Really. And I don’t think it’s just your dick talking. Although if you wanted to bring it into the equation I wouldn’t mind.” He sends a pointed stare at the half-hard shape under worn denim.

Barclay’s breathing is picking up, his posture trapped between movements.

“Do you, um, do you want to kiss?”

His friend drops down in reply, smashing their lips together and parting his own imploringly until Stern slips his tongue between them. His big hands cup Stern’s face and his hips grind like he thinks his parents will be home any minute.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, Joe, ohgod, babe, please, please let me be good to you” the kisses on his face and neck are messy and the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

“Barclay, you’ve always been good to me.”

“I meant this” he drags their dicks together, “kind of good.”

“Ohlord, yes okay, good point. Get your clothes off and bring me the purple bag that’s in my suitcase.”

Barclay grabs the bag, upends it and sends several sex toys, his strap-on underwear, and lots of condoms onto the bed, undresses as Stern sets one of the toys into the harness.

“I need to put this back on.” He lowers the mask and hears a soft whine.

“I like seeing your eyes.”

“You’ll see them plenty, big guy, I promise. Now, open yourself up, please.”

“Oh hell yes.” A rip of foil, a pop of lube, and then Barclay straddles him, grunting delightfully.

“Tell me when you get to three, that should be enough for this toy.”

Pre-cum drips just above the waistband of the underwear, and he gets a thrill remembering the few times he’d caught an accidental glimpse of Barclay’s dick. It’s big, that much he knows, and he’s going to have a lot of fun with it once he’s done reducing the man above him to tears.

“T-three, babe.”

“Get my dick wet and then get to it.”

When he gets the gasp that tells him the toy is in, he smile and reaches to the underside of the base, “Remember that new dick I was excited about?”

“The vibrating one? OHFUCK, fuckyeahbabe” Barclay jerks and moans, his movements erratic even as he sinks all the way down. Stern echoes him, the pressure of the other man’s body makes the vibrations hit all the right spots.

“Here’s how this is going to work, big guy; I’m going to get off while I fuck you, and if you can hold off on coming until I’m done, I’ll let you fuck me.”

“God yeah, Joe, fuck me, please.”

He thrusts up and there’s a thud of Barclay’s hands hitting the headboard. The movement is rough on his stomach but he doesn’t care, grabs hold of thick thighs and fucks him, the other man working his hips in an attempt at rhythm.

The mask catches on a pillow, letting him see Barclay from the neck down. Lord, he looks good like this, big (Stern’s always loved how big he is), letting out the most appealing grunts and growls, dark hair covering most of his softly muscled body…

Wait a minute.

He claps a hand over his mouth, laughing.

“Whats, aAAhnnn, what’s so funny babe?”

“Remember when you found that Sasquatch dildo and bigfoot romance novel in my stuff?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I just discovered the source of the fantasy.”

“Are, are you saying I look like bigfoot when I fuck?” Barclay is shaking with laughter.

“Kind of?”

“I’m putting that on a sign in my den.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Too late AHHhhnnnfuck, fuck, baby, pleasepleaseplease say you’re close.”

“Why? In a hurry to fuck me?”

“After ten fucking years? Yes.”

He focuses on rubbing off on the toy, holding Barclay in place to keep it at the right angle, orgasm building sudden and swift when he works his hips just right and Barclay starts whimpering.

“Shit” he bites out as it ripples through him, aftershocks jerking his hips and making them both groan.

Barclay climbs off and he wiggles the underwear off and kicks them off the bed.

“Okay, big guy, now you can fuck meSHIT, lordalmighty you feel good.”

“Fucking knew it would, knew you were fucking made for me Joe, fuck you’re incredible.” The hand that’s not balancing him on the mattress is shoving Sterns left out and up so he can drive deeper, shaking the walls on each thrust. Stern wonders if there’s a way recreate ten years of pent up desire so that Barclay will fuck him with this same furious affection every night of his life.

He’s limp post-orgasm, happy to let Barclay manhandle him to his hearts content. When the other man sits up, dragging his hips into his lap, he moans louder than he had in years.

“That’s it babe, lemme hear how good it is, fuck, no one’s ever looked this good taking my dick, c’mon, take it all the way, take me all the way while I cum in you.”

“Ohlord.” his toes curl weakly as bucks into him faster and faster.

“Fucking years, years I’ve wanted cum in whatever hole you’d give me, now I’m gonna and you’re gonna feel it for weeks, fuck, babe, that’s it, ohhhnn Joe, Joe” there’s a final growl as Barclay holds his legs open, the last jolts of his orgasm making his fingers dig into his skin.

As he’s coming down and pulling out, Stern slips off the mask, blinking at the sight before him. Barclay, flushed and slick with sweat, staring at him like he’s a prize he’d never thought he’d see.

“Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” He winces at how childish it sounds. A week ago he had a fiancee, for gods sake.

“Yeah, hell yes, wait, Joe, you just got out of an engagement. You, you sure you don’t want some time alone or to, like, explore other options?”

Stern crawls over to him, beard scratching his palm when he turns his cheek, “Barclay, I’ve always been one step away from falling in love with you, and it turns out this was the step. I trust you, I get along better with you than anyone else, and apparently we work well in bed. If, um, if you don’t want this, if it’s too late, I understand. But if you want to be together, I want that too.”

Barclay blinks. Then he blinks again. And then he’s crying and Stern pulls him into the hug.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

“Joe, don’t apologize. I’m so fucking happy, I’ve wanted to hear this for so long it’s just” a shaky breath, “just didn’t expect it to hit so hard. I love you, Joseph, and nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend.”

They stay like that for awhile, talking in confessions and professions of feelings. Then Joe kisses him, and pulls him towards the bathroom to clean up (and maybe use those cuffs) before heading out to lunch.

----------------------------------------

Indrid opens the message on his phone, smiles, and texts four words in reply.

I told you so

#Sternclay #agent stern/barclay #winter fills #pining #taz amnesty

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pensivetense · 4 years

Note

*vague high pitched noises in the direction of you OG!Elias hot takes*

I love them, if you have any more pls share.

Also; OG!Elias & Jonah friendship/relationship any more thoughts on that???

Ahhh thank you very much!! I Am Not Immune To The Inherent Intimacy Of Bodysharing. I’ve rambled a bit about them here but I always have more thoughts :)

(Okay this took me FOREVER to get to I’m so sorry—the sleep deficit I’ve been running on the week has been insane and the words just didn’t want to word.)

I have a whole backstory for ogElias that lives in my head, and is completely not based in anything canonical, but anyway:

I know that Jonah probably just picks who’s most convenient at the time but Elias accidentally had to go and embody one of my deepest fears and I can’t just let that go so In My Head Jonah picks Elias initially because he’s perfectly suited to the Eye. He’s from a large old family that Jonah actually looks into carefully just in case they’re secretly Lukas-adjacent because they’re just kind of awful. (He might court the Lonely but he’s careful not to invite it in too far—he knows he’s not invulnerable to it.)

But no, the Bouchards are just what they appear to be—a family with too much money and self-importance and history to make up for what they lack in character, and who have as a result become obsessed with public optics, to the detriment of their children. Pulling off the semblance of being a stable, socially presentable family is far more important to them than actual connections, and so Elias and his siblings grow up under the oppressive eye of their parents, who are always scrutinizing how they act, speak, dress, etc. to preserve their public image. Predictably this is hell on everyone involved, but where Elias’s siblings manage to scrape together either the will to pretend or actually absorbing the philosophy, Elias is the family disappointment. Okay so in my head he’s trans, but really there are any number of things that would earn the disappointment of a family obsessed w/ optics. I imagine them as being the unfortunately gaslighty kinds of people who are always going on about how he should just act the way they want him to because ‘they know who he really is better than he does’ or some awfulness like that.

So from this he’s had to actually cultivate a very strongly self-protective sense of identity. He’s going to be him, and he’ll fight to the death to preserve his individuality against a lot of pressure to conform. But on the flipside of that, he’s actually not in a very good place because while he’s cultivated a very definitive self image, he’s terrified of letting anyone actually get close enough to see the real him through the image because the constant judgement has worn on him to the point that he doesn’t want to let anyone have the leverage of being able to dismiss or attack his sense of self.

So this is the perfect combination of traits for Jonah’s purposes—Elias is isolated, terrified of being seen because that makes him vulnerable and equally terrified of not being seen/having his selfhood acknowledged.

What Jonah utterly fails to take into account is just how well they’re suited to each other. Because both of them are incredibly self-protective people but in different directions—Jonah’s willing to sacrifice his identity in order to preserve his life, and Elias is the sort of person who would wouldn’t care about dying if he could be guaranteed an honest eulogy. So in a certain sense they share enough of a personality type and sort of survivalist mentality to fundamentally understand each other, even when they hate each other. Furthermore, Elias is so used to having to defend himself against assaults on his basic sense of self that he’s actually quite resilient in that regard, and though watching his life be stolen without anyone even noticing is literally his most primal terror, Jonah can’t just shove him to the back of their headspace and forget about him, or whatever he’s done with previous hosts. In a sense, Elias has the one rebellion left to him of choosing to remain himself after all of the rest of his choices are taken from him, and this is also partially why he ‘forgets’ to be angry at Jonah—because in a certain sense it’s an assertion of his personality to purposefully maintain all of the parts of himself, and not just what’s filtered through his fear and anger.

Usually when Jonah monologues at his hosts it’s for the purpose of torturing them, but unfortunately he finds that he actually? Enjoys Elias’s company when Elias is forgetting to be angry? And it’s about the most secure relationship he can possibly cultivate because he has total control of the situation, so he lets himself start to like Elias, in the same sort of resigned way that Elias starts to like him. For Elias, his choices have suddenly been narrowed down to nearly none, so he may as well make the best of an objectively awful situation. For Jonah, Elias is absolutely ‘safe’ because he’s powerless to affect the world in any meaningful way, so Jonah may as well indulge himself in all of the socialization he’s missed since his original body. (He has such a wide network of friends and acquaintances in the 1800s that he must be a people person.)

I think that under the right circumstances they could influence each other in positive ways—Elias could make Jonah a little less self-destructive, and having Jonah’s attention and regard would allow Elias to relax his guardedness. So in a sense they both make each other care a little more about the aspects of life that they’ve decided are disposable/unimportant to their survival by seeing those aspects through the other’s eyes, so to speak. This allows them both to actually start enjoying more things about life—Elias wants to know who Jonah is as a person and is disappointed when he finds out that Jonah doesn’t seem to put much thought or effort into himself, and Jonah’s adamant desire to not die starts to infect Elias a little with a willingness to adapt in order to survive, at which point he really starts to examine what he wants out of this relationship.

Unfortunately, this is where the inherent power imbalance rears its head, because if Jonah genuinely starts to care about Elias as a person he’s going to realise just how permanently he fucked their relationship from the start. Quite apart from the whole body-snatching thing, they can’t get the space from each other or the autonomy that a partnership of equals demands, and of course they can’t have a partnership of equals because Jonah’s got literal supernatural powers and centuries of age on Elias and is also effectively his jailer. Whether he can or cannot cede any physical autonomy to Elias if he wants, he also has to choose how much influence he allows Elias to have over him as a person and in terms of decisions.

I think by this point Elias knows absolutely everything about the Mass Ritual, because Jonah overshares because he’s socially starved and also because the Eye likes it, so the way I see it is on one extreme, Elias takes a definitive moral stand and they end up in a really yearn-y relationship where they’re always together but can’t really be together, or on the other he just says fuck it and decides to be evil, too, partially as a way of asserting control over his situation, and they end up being extremely codependent. (And of course any mixture of the two.)

But in particular, because I’m a massive fan of Elias killing Jonah, I like the former scenario because he’d do it if he got the opportunity but it would hurt, but he’d have to because I think that no matter what, if Jonah had complete control, he’d never give that up or turn aside from his immortality quest, in love or not.

More miscellany:

-I like the idea of Elias being the one who’s got the methodical/logical way of thinking, vs Jonah as the imaginative/intuitive one. Jonah’s got his moments of high drama despite the bland bureaucrat persona, and I like the idea of Elias as working as a file clerk on purpose because he likes paperwork and organisation and he could not care less about the degree that his family made him go and get.

(Original post of takes here )

#wow I’m so sorry this took so long!#(also forgive the run-on sentences and the blatant projecting)#long post #og!elias

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 4 years

Note

Could you possibly do an analysis of the Byers Family as a whole?

I’m honestly surprised it took this long for this to be requested. The Byers family is really at the heart of the entire story. I’m going to try and limit this analysis to the on-screen portrayal of the family. If you want more of a deep-dive that includes predictions and suppositions that draw on the writers’ background material and references, I would point you to @kaypeace21. There’s some real next level stuff going on with her work, but I’m going to try and stick to what I know best. I will not be including El in this, though she may come up in passing, as we have yet to see any significant portrayal of her as a member of the family. The Byers are a family of unexpected strength and love. There’s a lot there that would suggest a family in shambles, but outward appearances can be misleading. I intend here to go through the family one-by-one and then go into some conceptualizations of the family dynamic based on my understanding of psychological theory and human development. My memory on some of the details of the show may be off, so feel free to correct any errors I may stumble into. Lonnie I’ll start with Lonnie, though it’s difficult to really refer to him as a part of the family. Still, for at least a portion of this family’s development, he was there and active in the others’ lives to some extent.There is much we simply don’t know about the family dynamic when he was still an active member of it. What we do know, however, is that he was involved in Jonathan’s life until he was at least 10, due to the story of Lonnie taking him hunting on his birthday, but that he was out of the house prior to the start of Stranger Things. Jonathan would have turned 10 around 1977, so the Lonnie would have left his family for up to 5 years prior to the first season. Lonnie’s actions, as portrayed in the first season, depict him as a selfish and callous man with very rigid ideas of masculinity. He would routinely try to force his sons to conform to these ideals. We can see this through the aforementioned hunting trip, which brought Jonathan to tears, and through his overall treatment of Will. The fact that a man would call his own prepubescent son a “queer” or “fag” is harsh even by 80s standards. He would also attempt to get Will to enjoy baseball, though even then it’s implied that he often fails to deliver on his promises to spend time with his youngest. Lonnie showed up in the first season upon learning of Will’s apparent death. He would seem to be a concerned father at first, but Joyce would later learn that Lonnie was prepared to file a wrongful death case against the owner of the quarry that Will was believed to have drowned in. Money has seemingly always been a concern for the family, but Lonnie is the only one who even considers financial compensation. All of this says a lot about where his priorities lie and what his values are. Joyce Joyce Byers is, by all on-screen depictions, a loving mother and open-minded, friendly woman. It is curious as to what she would have seen in Lonnie (we will not assume Murray’s theories to be accurate), but conservative, small-town culture at the time certainly would have led many a woman to see a macho guy as ideal. Joyce has been portrayed in making many sacrifices for her loved ones, and she has a fiery temper that has come out whenever someone would seemingly try to get in the way of her taking care of said loved ones. By the time we are introduced to Joyce, her priorities seem to be her children. She works as a clerk at a local general store, presumably not making much money. It is assumed that after Lonnie left she had no significant romantic relationships until Bob Newby in 1984. While Joyce seems to love both of her sons a great deal, it is suggested in season 1 that she felt closer to Will. Despite this, there was no apparent favoritism. Joyce did however, albeit unintentionally, trigger some issues with Jonathan during the events of Will’s disappearance in 1983. Despite the lack of financial resources (we do not know if Lonnie pays any financial support), Joyce tries her best to support her children. She even managed to get an Atari 2600 for Will, which, even after the video game crash of the early 80s, would have cost her the equivalent of over $100 of today’s money. At first, Joyce welcomes Lonnie back into her life when he showed up after learning of Will’s “death.” She seemed exhausted and initially leaned on him for support. This changed when Joyce learned of his planned lawsuit against the owners of the quarry. She proceeded to lash out at him angrily, accusing him of never caring about his sons, perhaps giving us a look into what ultimately led to their separation (were they ever actually said to be divorced?). When Lonnie couldn’t even come up with what college Jonathan wanted to go to, Joyce viciously spat out that he has wanted to go to NYU since he was a child. To Joyce, not knowing something like that about your own child is reprehensible. When she brings up to Chief Hopper that Lonnie would refer to Will with gay slurs, the discomfort it brings to her is clearly visible. It’s purely speculation, but not out of the question based on what we know about her, that Joyce isn’t so much disturbed by the idea, but rather that she ostensibly allowed Lonnie to say such things. As the series moves on, Joyce is shown seeking out stability and security for herself and her family. Her relationship with Bob was an attempt to rebuild a sense of normality. Bob took a genuine interest in the boys and clearly loved her a great deal. His traumatic loss affects her greatly. She develops an understandable sense of paranoia about Hawkins and the agency behind the lab which ultimately leads to her deciding to uproot her family and leave town to parts yet known. While her decision to do so is certainly understandable and well-intentioned, it could have unintended adverse consequences that I intend to explore further below. Jonathan When we meet him, Jonathan Byers is an intelligent young man and a talented photographer. On the other hand, he is also well aware of the family’s struggles, perhaps more so than Will, and is somewhat parentified. Jonathan is not social, and is shown to be something of an outcast at school. We do not know how far back this goes, but it is possibly a result of Jonathan needing to go to work to help support the family. Jonathan is more like his mother than his father, as seen in his unconditional support for Will and his generally sensitive and protective nature. While in many cases a parentified child is a cause for concern, in Jonathan’s case it may well have given him a sense of purpose that allowed him to weather the rough family life he’s experienced. Indeed, Jonathan initially seems to derive little satisfaction in life outside of photograph and his family. He apparently had already resigned himself to a life of sacrifice, at least until he can try to make a life for himself through photography. While he would go on to develop a relationship with Nancy Wheeler, he never lost his fraternal/borderline paternal bond with his little brother. He literally fought monsters to save and protect Will on multiple occasions. It is quite possible that Jonathan fosters a continuing sense of guilt, as the only reason he was not home the night Will vanished was because he took an extra work shift. With Joyce, Jonathan seems to almost see himself as a co-parent rather than a son. While he clearly loves his mother, he is not above calling her out and butting heads with her as seen in the first season. When Jonathan sees what he thinks is Joyce losing her mind, his reaction is an angry outburst. While there is not enough evidence, this could be a result of abandonment issues as a result of his father leaving.Despite his maturity, Jonathan is still just a teenager at this point, and one who is already blaming himself for his brother vanishing. He needs his mother but sees her as abandoning him. Joyce is going around and publicly making herself seem crazy. While the viewers know that Joyce is right, Jonathan reacts like any of us may. He comes around once he realizes the truth, but it is clear that he is holding in a lot of his own pain and he may hold some resentment towards Joyce, even if he is unaware of it himself. Jonathan was older than Will when Lonnie left, so he would presumably have been more aware of what was going on. He also would have been old enough to potentially blame Joyce for failing to protect him and Will. This last part is all speculation, however. Jonathan’s relationship with Will is perhaps the strongest in the family. Jonathan helped Will build Castle Byers in response to Lonnie’s departure. He stayed until it was finished despite a rainstorm and (a presumably very young) Will’s lack of skill at actually helping. He would go on to support Will in all of his endeavors, blatantly encouraging him to dare to be different. He clearly doesn’t want to see Will succumb to the pressure of conformity. He makes it very clear that he supports Will completely and unconditionally. There is a suggestion here that Jonathan fears that Will may have a lingering desire to please their father at the expense of his own preferences. Will Will is smart, sensitive, artistic, and caring in a way that was discouraged in adolescent boys in a town like his. Will is heading towards the latter years of middle school as the series starts. Lonnie is already gone, but his influence is still there. Joyce dotes on him as much as possible, but time and resources are scarce. Jonathan takes on a hybrid father figure/big brother role to help keep Will happy. Oddly enough, given the circumstances of the plot, Will actually seems to come out the best. I will go further into detail below, but compared to his mom and older brother, Will actually has the most going for him. I’ve already covered Will’s role in the family above, but there is a bit more to explore from his perspective. Will is the much-loved son and brother to Joyce and Jonathan, and the bane of his father. Joyce wanted Will to be happy, and made every attempt to bond with him. Will did indeed seem to have a good relationship with his mother, as shown in his excitement to see Poltergeist with her and his risking his life to warn his mother of the Demogorgon. We also see many scenes of him bonding with Jonathan over music, but their relationship goes deeper. Jonathan is someone who Will confides in his relationship with his father. Will also worries about Jonathan’s hand injury despite the fact that he himself is in a hospital bed, having just woken up after being in the Upside Down for a week. Despite how good his relationships are with his mother and brother, Will is shown craving his father’s love. We do not know if Lonnie ever directly called Will a “queer” or “fag” or if he only referred to him as such to others, but Will does seem aware of his dad’s lack of support. Even though Will does not like baseball, he makes a pretense of it in an attempt to gain his father’s love, and he takes it hard when his dad does not deliver. It’s quite possible that Will harbors guilt as to what happened to his family, blaming himself for his dad leaving. Much like with Jonathan, this is speculative, but it wouldn’t be an unusual reaction for a young child whose parents split. Development and Outlook

I will try to be short and sweet here. When one looks at the family as a whole, the many moving parts of the family and their environment quite frankly make sense. The family is portrayed in a reasonably realistic fashion. Lonnie’s displeasure with his family life, along with what is quite possibly dissatisfaction with his life in general, result in him leaving. These same factors left their mark on his wife and children. The Byers receive little support from the community, and are indeed seen as outcasts, resulting in reactions that range from indifference to scorn. This would lead to the Byers relying even more on each other and seeming even more like outcasts. The cycle is harsh. Even as you go outward towards more indirect influences, the Byers do not conform to conservative 80s norms, which sets them at odds with society as a whole. They are basically an island in a stormy sea. This is where Will’s bright spot comes in. Will has what the others in his family lack, at least before the events of the series: friends. Will is not an outcast in the same sense of the others. While he is still scorned by the larger school population, his relationship with the Party serve as a protective factor. In other words, he’s better able to deal with the bad aspects of his life because he has his friends to fall back on. Joyce and Jonathan, on the other hand, only have each other. Mike in particular is a source of strength for Will, which is what makes the rockiness of their relationship in season 3 so hard for him. Joyce and Jonathan would both form relationships outside of the family that make them better able to cope. Jonathan and Nancy have a mostly healthy relationship, and Joyce almost looks like a teenager in how carefree she is with Bob (before the plot hits high gear anyway). Joyce and Hopper aren’t quite as healthy, but there are signs that it could head that way before Hopper is presumably killed. This is where Joyce makes a decision that she may come to regret. While her own attempts to develop a better ecoysystem seem cursed, Jonathan finally seems to have someone outside the family (indeed from a well-off family) that not only doesn’t scorn him, but loves him. Will has a group of friends that, despite some trials, is actually growing. Joyce, however, decides to separate them from these relationships in a well-meant attempt to save them from the town, the lab, and the Upside Down. It is hard to blame her for this, but the decision is nonetheless curious. She seems to be coming around to the idea of staying due to a burgeoning relationship with Hopper, which runs contrary to her tendency to put her kids first. One could excuse her for being clouded by grief, and we don’t see how she broke the news to Jonathan and Will (and El) or the aftermath. They all seem to have made peace with the idea, but the goodbyes are emotional, and Joyce herself looks upset and perhaps guilty, but this puts the family back to relying solely on each other, at least in the short term. Will they become stronger and be able to regain normalcy away from Hawkins? Will they end up resenting Joyce for it? How will El fit into this family? Can Will cope without his friends? Can Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship survive at a distance? How is Joyce going to be able to support a now-larger family? How will Lonnie fit into this? That all remains to be seen, but would be realistic elements to include in the next season.

#stranger things #byers family #joyce byers #jonathan byers #will byers #lonnie byers

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saharamae21 · 4 years

Text

Never Ran Smooth (Part 14)

Hey guys! Thanks for all the love and support! I loved writing this chapter and couldn’t wait to post it... Enjoy!

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For you, in my respect, are all the world.

The night past quickly and the next morning, we got straight to work. I sat next to Pope as JJ and Kie bickered back and forth. I smiled at how cute he looked while he annoyed her. Love really blinds you quickly.

“You guys are sickening sweet,” I heard Pope groan as he looked back and forth between John B and I. Both of us looked like lovesick puppies, staring at their love like no one else was there.

“Have you ever thought about telling Kie how you feel?” I asked giving him a quick shove with my shoulder.

“That doors closed,” Pope said. “Before you were around JJ tried really hard to open that door. Even John B tried. She just doesn’t see us like that.”

“You never know until you try,” I said and looked back at JJ. “I never thought he would like me. I’m part of a whole community that he’s grown to detest, yet I can’t help thinking that he’s in love with me.”

“Thinking?” Pope questioned me.

“He hasn’t said I love you,” I said back, thinking about the first time I said it to him. “To be fair, we just started dating and maybe he doesn’t feel that way yet. I’m not in any rush for him to tell me.”

Pope gave me a small smile. I could tell he was happy for JJ and I. Everything I had said was true, I was in no rush. This was the first time that I had ever felt this way and I wanted to savory and draw it out as long as possible. JJ noticed me smiling at him and gave me a little wink. Even that was enough to make my heart flutter.

After everything was prepared, we filed into the van and took off for a pawn shop. I listened to JJ continue to fight with Kie, even after we were out of the van.

“Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein,” JJ said with an attitude.

“Like you could've done better,” Kie retorted, both of them clearly upset with each other.

“I could have. I took a welding class,” JJ said, both of them getting in each others faces. I grabbed JJ’s hand to calm him down. John B helped to diffuse the situation at hand and we made our way inside. “How did I get this job anyway?”

“'Cause you're the best liar,” Pope said as we opened the door. Then someone caught my eye. I said I would join them inside in a second. I saw Topper’s mom walking up to me from across the street. What was she doing over here?

“Savannah!” she greeted me.

“Hi Mrs. Thornton,” I said.

“You really need to stop hanging out with those lowlifes,” she said, eyeing the van. “I can’t believe your dad paid off that deviants restitution for ruining our boat. Keep hanging out with them and your whole family will go bankrupt.”

“I’m sorry, my dad did what?” I asked, thinking I must’ve misheard her or something.

“He paid for our boat,” she said. “I thought you knew?”

My heart swelled for a minute as I told her I had just forgotten. Why would my dad do that? I said my goodbyes and made my way into the shop. I watched as JJ tried to pawn off the melted down piece of gold. The clerk argued back and forth for a while, running a series of tests while JJ sassed her. I watched as JJ gave her this sob story about how his mom tried to melt the bar down. She walked away to talk to someone about what they could offer us and finally settled on 70k. They sent us out and on our way to the warehouse because they didn’t have the cash laying around in the store. We all filed back into the van and I sat down next to JJ. We drove a few miles and I let out a yawn before laying my head gently on his shoulder, zoning out while the others talked.

“So they keep money out here?” Pope asked skeptically.

“That's what she said,” JJ said in response. Then he let out a small chuckle. “That's what she said.”

“You’re such a child,” I said with a giggle. I closed my eyes and felt JJ play with a strand of my hair.

“How are you so tired?” he asked me, ignoring everyone else in the vehicle. “You slept all night.”

“I don’t know. I sleep so nicely next to you,” I muttered back. In reality, I was tired, but I was also confused. Why would my dad do that after everything that’s happened? He’s planning something. I opened my eyes to see him glancing down at me affectionately. Everything seemed perfect at that moment, until I heard the siren behind us. I sprung up and helped JJ hide the gold and his belongings. Why are we even getting pulled over? Why was there a cop all the way out here? Then it hit me. We’re being set up.

Everything began happening so quickly. A gun cocked and we looked forward to see a man pointing a shot gun right at John B’s face. He told us all to put our hands up. He told John to get out and let all of us out. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I got out of the van. I watched as JJ told the dude to calm down. I was shaking as he pointed the gun at JJ. We all got down into the ditch and laid there. I was so scared and as the man dug around in the van. Then John B got up slowly. We begged him not to be a hero, but he got into the robber’s backseat and waited. The man found the gold and walked slowly back to his car, threatening us the whole way. Once he got in, John wrestled him for the gun. As soon as he got the gun, JJ was up and running. I got up quickly after him, wanting to help, but more importantly wanting to protect JJ. I watched him get punched down and went in swinging. I landed a few punches before getting nailed in the ribs. I fell hard, but the fight was over quickly. There was six of us and one of him. He didn’t stand a chance. Pope got the gold and then we pulled his face mask off. “I know this piece of shit!” JJ yelled. A rage overtook him as this became personal.

“Listen, I couldn't hurt any single one of y'all-” before the man could finish his sentence, JJ beat him with the butt of the gun.

“JJ!” I yelled grabbing his arm, but he shook me off roughly. He proceeded to grab the man’s license and inspect it thoroughly.

“We got one last stop,” he said and stormed back to the van. “Let's go see where this son of a bitch lives.”

The man threatened us over and over as we got into our van and drove off. JJ drive quickly and even recklessly. We pulled up to this rundown trailer home. I watched as JJ stormed out of the van and into the house, John B following closely behind. I wanted to go after him too, but Pope told me not to. This was a new side to JJ that I had never seen before. He was so overcome with rage that I was scared for what would happen next. When they finally came out of the house, I ran up to him.

“All right, so we're looking at five grand each for reparations for putting us through that bullshit. Sorry about that, y'all,” JJ said nonchalantly. I watched as everyone instantly realized what JJ had done and tried to talk some sense into him. Then John B and JJ instantly got into it. JJ got into the van and waited for us. He looked at me and waited for me to follow suit, but I couldn’t. This was wrong. He got out of the van.

“We're sick of your shit,” John B. said firmly.

“Oh, my shit?” JJ asked.

“Yes. Your pulling guns on people shit,” Kie said.

“You acting like a maniac-” Pope tried to add.

“Okay, Pope, I took the fall for you, man! Know how much I owe because of you?” I listened to him demand Pope pay him back now. I listened to him become unreasonable.

“JJ!” I yelled getting his attention. “You don’t owe any money, I handled it. It’s done! Stop treating your friends like this!”

“I don’t need your money, princess!” he snapped at me. My heart sank as princess became an insult again. “God, everything is the same with you kooks. Money, money, money!”

“That’s not true and you know it,” I said, tears filling my eyes as he lashed out at me.

“I could’ve handled it! You look at me like I’m something to fix!” he screamed at me. “I’m not a project for you Savannah! You don’t get to just fix me because your bored and have no friends!”

“JJ!” I yelled, tears streaming down my cheeks. I began to get mad at how he was treating me. I couldn’t control my emotions and finally yelled back at him.“Is that what you think of me? Is that what you think I’m doing? Does I love you mean nothing to you?”

“You may think you’re in love with me, but you’re just like every other kook. You look down on us. I don’t need your money. I don’t need your help. I certainly don’t need your pity. I’m not some mistake you can just fix,” he said coldly. “And because you treat me this way, I will never love you.”

He turned his back on us and walked quickly away. He went off on his own. I sank to my knees and let out little sobs as Kie wrapped her arms around me. I just crouched down with my face in my hands and bawled.

After I composed myself a little, we got back in the van and went back to the chateau. Everyone was silent as we parked the car and got out. I forced a smile onto my face and decided that it was time to go back home.

“I’ll head out first,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kie asked. I could see in her eyes that she was genuinely worried about me. I nodded, fiddling with my thumbs a little.

“I’ll see you all soon,” I said and walked to my car. I gave them all a small wave and began to mentally prepare myself for what was to come.

The drive home was shorter than I remembered. The driveway no longer seemed so long. I stared up at the mansion I lived in and let out a sigh. I turned off the engine and checked my appearance in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy. I looked like a mess. Still. I gathered all the courage I had and got out of the car. I opened up the front door and walked in.

“I’m home,” I said in a hoarse voice. My mother came running into the entrance. She hugged me so tightly and cry. She begged me to never leave like that again. I felt bad for everything I put her through. Then my dad walked into the room. I walked up slowly and began to apologize for my actions, but before I could finish them my cheek burned. I fell to my knees and let some tears slip out.

“You embarrassed us. You disappeared. You cost us a fortune. Get your shit together Savannah,” he said. “I didn’t raise a failure.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I talked back for the first time in my life. Then he said the only words that could make me want to die inside.

“And because you believe that, I will never love you.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List : @jjmaybangme @thebendslikebendover @jellyfishbeansontoast @justcallmesams

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monstaxdesires · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement (Chapter Two)

(Chapter One)

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you pressed the numbers in the right order. You let out a shaky breath closing your eyes as you pressed dial. The line rang three times before he answered.

“Hello?”

You were quiet, your voice was stolen from you.

“Hello? Anyone there?” His deep voice filled your head and you fought down the familiar feeling it gave you whenever he came into the store.

“It’s me,” you say gently, nails digging into your thigh as you sit on the edge of your chair. “I wanted to talk to you about your offer.”

You didn’t have to see him to know he had that ever-charming smirk on his face. You could hear it in his tone as he spoke again.

“What changed?”

“Something I would rather not discuss right now,” you raise your shaking hand to your hair, pulling it over one shoulder nervously. “Is the offer still on the table?”

“I don’t know,” he mused and you heard a deep chuckle from him. “Depends. What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Come to dinner with me.”

You bite your lip before counting to three and trying to make yourself relax. You could do this, dinner was easy. It was this or use your savings while you hunt down a second job which was still an option even if you went to dinner with him.

“Why?”

He clears his throat, your question taking him by surprise. “To discuss the offer. My offer was very vague if you remember and I want you to know all the facts before you continue any further.” He pauses and you hear a faint noise like glass clinking in the background. “I honestly didn’t expect you to call Beautiful. You have surprised me again.”

“Chalk it up to curiosity.”

“Then this dinner is perfect. You have a nice cocktail dress right?”

“Sure,” you answer.

Your thoughts shifting to the little black dress in the back of your closet. It had been a birthday gift from your coworkers. It belonged to the designer you worked for but had been severely marked down so they pitched in and bought it for you so you would have something nice to wear when they took you out to celebrate.

“Perfect. I will send a car for you at 7 pm sharp. Text me your address,” he instructs, his voice softer now. You shiver, the change in his tone making you feel like you were wrapped up in silk. “Oh, and Beautiful?” He says catching your attention before you can hang up.

“Yes?”

“Relax. We will discuss the offer and you will meet a few friends at a dinner party.”

“Okay.”

You hang up and send your address before you drop the phone in the chair as you march to dig the dress out of your closet.

———————————

He entered the store and you moved to greet him like usual. The dark-haired woman on his arm flashing a smile at you. You had not seen her before. She was a new one.

“Good afternoon,” you say, folding your hands in front of you and your face not giving away what you knew. He smirks at you, his eyes dragging over you like they always do before he turns to his companion. “How can I help you today?” You direct your attention to her knowing exactly how to handle him after so many encounters.

“I need a new wardrobe,” she says, her gaze glued to him now. “It is a birthday treat.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. It always was.

“No limit,” he says to both of you before he releases her arm. “Go ahead, Sweetheart.”

You turn to signal the team that was waiting off to the side that it was time to assist and they move forward and guide her to begin the afternoon-long process of picking items out to try on and let everyone admire her. They were well versed in this part of the job. It happened at least once a week, not always with him, but a group of them frequented enough that it was down to a science among all employees.

“Thank you,” he says to you but he is watching her. “Your staff never disappoints and neither do you.” He turns his gaze to you and smiles. “How are you? It has been a few weeks.”

“I am well.” You reply. He had been your first experience when you started a little over seven months ago. It had been a shock to your system but even then you had regained your composure and proceeded how you were directed to.

You liked to keep your information limited with all clientele, especially this particular type of clientele. They did the same, it was a mutual understanding. You knew his name, or the name he chose to go by, but you never learned the women’s names. Only referring to them as Miss when necessary.

“And you?”

“Well,” he agrees. His eyes are back on his birthday girl. “She’s lovely isn’t she?”

“Very.”

He flashes his perfect teeth in a genuine smile before starting to move towards his usual seat.

“The usual?” You ask softly.

“Yes, thank you.”

You go behind your desk to grab his favorite bottle of dark liquor and a glass tumbler to pour it in. You glance at him to see him unbutton his jacket before taking a seat so he could watch her enjoy her time in the store.

“Want me to take it instead?” Your coworker, Ann, asks as she moves to your side.

She noticed you seemed a little more on edge this time and you weren’t sure why, nothing was different. But something in his eyes had you a little more wary. You shake your head. He preferred things to be kept the same as always.

“He favors you, you know.” She says. You look at her with a confused expression. “You could always be her instead.”

“No,” you cut her off. “He has never and would never even dare. And I have the job I want right now. It’s enough to teach me and help me with saving for my ultimate goal. That is all I need.”

She shrugs walking away and you glance to check on him but he is staring at you. His gaze is unwavering. You inhale a breath steadying your nerves before going to him. You place the tumbler on the table beside him before handing him the usual leather-bound portfolio. You kept it for the clients that would come in and brought their significant others who needed something to occupy themselves while they waited. It was a catalog of the recent men’s designs and included a tablet for their pleasure.

“You know where I am should you need me,” you murmur your usual sentence and begin to turn on the ball of your foot to go back to your post. He reaches out, his fingers folding around your wrist in a gentle but firm grip.

“Sit with me for a moment.”

Your lips part in surprise and you glance to see his companion immersed in the staff’s presentation of the first round of clothing.

“Only a moment,” he says casually.

You take the seat beside him and fold your hands in your lap now that he has released you.

“This is for you.” He murmurs and holds it out for you.

You take it, the matte finish on it showing how expensive his taste was. It was thicker than a normal business card and much simpler. His name scrawled across the front, Wonho. He watches you flip it over and see his cell the only thing on the back. You look up at him, confused. The store had his information on file why you were you being given this. He picks up on your confusion.

“That is for your personal use.”

“Sorry?” Your usual demeanor dropping and he grins at the little peek he gets of your normal demeanor.

“I like you. You are different.”

“Different?” You ask, scrambling to get the situation back under control.

“Different,” he repeats before looking down at the portfolio resting on his lap. “I know you are aware of the situation,” he says gesturing between the girl and himself. “It is not what you may think, but it is a version of it. I can help. I like to help. The card is for you should you need my help.”

“Oh,” you bite your lip, cheeks warming with slight embarrassment. You had never meant to incline that you wanted his help. “That’s not-”

“I know,” he says opening the portfolio without looking at you. “But I want you to have the card. You do not have to do anything with if you do not wish to.” He looks at you again when you do not reply. “That is all.”

You stand, mind still racing to try and wrap itself around the situation. “I apologize if I insulted you.” You quickly try to repair any damage. You knew that their business was vital to the survival of the company and you would not let it be your fault if it was lost.

“You have not insulted me Beautiful. I have debated on giving you that card since the first time we met. Let’s leave it at that for now, yes?”

“Yes,” you reply before going back to your desk. His card pressing into your palm as you grip it tightly.

Hours later you had regained your composure and done your job well for the rest of their visit. She had wrapped up her shopping and your staff would package it all up and deliver it to the address he was now writing on a card. He placed it in the usual envelope before passing it to you without a word. You took it from him as she thanked the staff a few feet away.

“Our secret, understood?” He asks. You look at him, tipping your head to the side before eyes widen slightly.

“Understood.”

He grins. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Before you can respond she is now by his side thanking you before they leave together. He does not look back and you feel your shoulders drop as the staff all beam at one another. They scurry to your desk inquiring about the tip he had left. You open the envelope before passing the address to Ann. The delivery side was her responsibility. She accepts it with glee and reads the address. It was never his, always hers, but still, it was fun to see where they lived.

“How much?” She peaks over the counter to your hands. You finish counting before looking up at them.

“$2,000.”

They cheer in excitement and you grin. The biggest tip yet and another deposit into your savings account.

“Including the delivery team that means we each get an extra $200 on our paychecks next week. Well done team.”

They all grin and hug one another before being dismissed back to their duties. One of the accounting clerks is already waiting to take the tip. You pass it off and write down the information for your records and the department's records.

———————————

The car arrived right on time and now you were being taken to what you knew would be a lavish event. You knew the driver, it was his driver, and that helped calm your nerves some. He had greeted you without judgment and you had been thankful.

You squeezed your hands together as he turned onto a stone drive that had a soft glow from little twinkle lights intertwined in the lush green trees lining the drive.

“You look lovely,” Luke speaks and you blush ducking your head. “Mr. Wonho likes you. You will have a wonderful evening I am sure.”

“Thank you, Luke.”

“Anytime,” he smiles before pulling the car to a stop at the entrance. Your door opens and a hand is offered to help you. You grasp it as you step outside of the car to see Wonho smiling at you. He looked dashing in a fitted black tux. You had picked that tux out months ago and it warmed your heart a little to see him using it.

“You look stunning,” he says admiring you at arm's length.

“You look handsome as always,” you return and he flashes a bright smile that makes you smile a little. “If I remember correctly I suggested this particular tuxedo.”

“You did,” he confirms. You both enter the venue before he delicately plucks two champagne flutes from a platter that a passing server is carrying.

He offers you one and you take it. His free hand falls to the small of your back. The warmth radiating from his palm making you blush the slightest bit.

“A few things about tonight,” he starts as you take in everything around you. “Almost all of the gentlemen and a few of the beautiful women here tonight are similar to me. You will see some of the clients you service. Reframe from talking to them if possible,” he says turning you to face him.

He stares at you, his dark eyes warm. His hand lifts to your face. His knuckles brushing your cheek.

“Tonight you are my beautiful and stunning guest and not the girl who handles all of our affairs for your company. Tonight is a test, I have no concern about how you will do, but I want to be honest with you. If you do as well as I think you will then we will discuss how I can help you further.”

“Understood.”

“Ask any question you want and stay by my side unless you need to be excused to the ladies' room.” He tips his head admiring you before winking which makes your heart race a little. “If you are ready I would like to begin introducing you to some of my friends.”

“I would,” you say, knowing he wants to show you off. “But I think you should know that I am not a drinker other than a glass of wine when life calls for it.”

He chuckles. “Me either, but it makes everyone feel a little better if everyone appears to be drinking.”

“Ah,” you smile clueing in and keeping your flute in your grip instead of discarding it.

“Once dinner begins I will make sure you have water or wine if you desire.”

“Thank you Wonho.”

“Now, I would like for you to meet Hyungwon first.” He gestures to a tall man with slightly longer dark hair a few feet away.

You noted the blonde on his arm and the Givenchy gown she wore. It fit her like a glove and you knew she had been his companion for longer than usual. The giveaways being the gown and how he admired her when she spoke to those standing around him.

“He is in love,” Wonho says softly in your ear. “You can tell from here can’t you Beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he pats your hip. “I knew you would do well.”

You blush before peaking at him to see that charming smile on his face again. You were doing well so far.

(Chapter Three)

#Monsta X #monsta x au #shownu #wonho #Minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #jooheon #changkyun

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ad1thi · 5 years

Text

just friends(?) P2

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The pain comes in waves.

The very first week after the text (Sam was calling it Textgate which would’ve been hilarious if it didn’t hurt so much) Steve calls endlessly.

Every single minute he’s off from work or not working on his graduate portfolio, Steve is calling and texting and on one memorable occasion, writing a letter.

He’s desperate for any chance of talking to Tony.

(the calls and text go unanswered)

(the letter comes back undelivered)

After 2 weeks of radio silence, Steve shows up at Stark Industries, in his best fitting suit (the one Tony looked at, whistled lowly and said “you look lick-able Rogers”) and meets a stony faced Virginia.

‘Virginia hi is there -”

“It’s Ms Potts,” she interrupts smoothly, “and I’m under strict instructions from Mr Stark to turn you away.”

He’d forgotten that Virginia worked for Tony.

“Virg- Ms Potts please. I just need 5 minutes. I just need to explain myself please.”

He’s not above begging.

“Leave Mr Rogers,” she says before spinning on her heel, “Or I will have security escort you out.”

He’s frozen, immovable, stranded in the depths of his guilt and self loathing.

(he isn’t quite sure he deserves to get out)

He goes into the NYU art department, to fill out the application since he needed to start looking for a new patron now.

“Mr. Stark is still listed as your patron,” the clerk says with a very confused face, “He sent in a lump sum just a few days ago. Should I call him and inform him that you’re no longer interested in his patronage?”

“NO!” Steve says (a bit too loudly by the rise of the clerk’s eyebrow) and then lowers his voice, “No I’m very interested in his patronage. I just didn’t realise I had it, is all.”

“Look Mr. Rogers I’ve been working this desk for a long time, and I know you artist types can be,” he pauses delicately, “forgetful.”

He scribbles something, “Here’s Mr. Stark's office number. I’m a very busy person, so maybe figure out what your situation is before you come and bother me.”

Steve barely remembers to thank the clerk and apologize, focusing on that feeling in his chest that feels suspiciously like hope.

He takes another 5 days before he dials the number, putting his phone on speaker and holding it close to his mouth.

It rings and rings and rings and finally,

“Stark on the line,”

Tony.

God he sounds, he sounds exactly the same (Steve has no idea why he expected Tony’s voice to change in 2 months when it hasn’t in 5 years)

“Hello?” Steve can hear the slight inflection in Tony’s voice that means he’s getting annoyed but he can’t seem to get his throat to work; too focused on the fact that he’s hearing Tony’s voice after 2 months.

“Alright look I don’t know what kind of practical joke you seem to think this is but I am a billionaire and I have better things to do then -”

“Tony, it’s me, it’s Steve.”

“Steve,” Tony’s voice is carefully blank and Steve thinks his heart might break all over again.

“How did you get this number?” In all the years he’s known him, he’s never heard Tony talk like this- like he’s talking to an automated machine.

“I uh, the clerk at the patron office gave it to me. I went it to file for a new patron but apparently you sent in money a few days ago?”

Tony laughs and its so dark, it pierces through Steve, “your career is fine Rogers. If thats all?”

He cuts the line before Steve has a chance to answer, to apologize.

And Steve presses his hand against his chest, and lets the tears fall.

(he was right)

(his heart did break all over again)

Sam comes to visit him, which is when things start to fall in perspective.

“Out!” Sam kicks him in the chins, “get out of the bed you miserable lug.”

(never let it be said that Sam pulls his punches)

“You’re not the only one hurting you know,” Sam says once Steve has showered and cooked him (him being Sam) a batch of pancakes (under extreme duress).

“I mean, I know you know that Tony is hurting. But this isn’t easy for me and Bucky either.”

oh my god Bucky.

“Hey he doesn’t blame you,” something must show on Steve’s face because Sam backtracks immediately, “he gets it. We all do,” he grimaces slightly. “James and Pepper don’t- but we’re working on them.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, “I hurt Tony. There’s no way they’re going to forgive them.”

(I don’t expect them too, he leaves out)

“Look they know you didn’t mean to, and its only because your dumbass was in love with Tony,” Steve chokes on his orange juice, “and if I can convince James to date me, I can do anything.”

“Wait hold up backtrack a bit, you knew?”

“Yeah Steve, everyone knew,” Sam counts off fingers, “Me, James, Pepper, hell even Bucky knew.”

Sam places his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “The only person who didn’t know was Tony. And as harsh as it sounds, Bucky got tired of waiting for you to fess up, and got tired of ignoring his own emotions.”

Steve slumps against his seat, “Buck- Buck knew?”

“I’m not trying to hurt you Steve, because I know you love Tony. But Bucky is your bestfriend of 20 years man, friendships like that don’t come easy. Maybe you need to consider that Tony’s not the only person you need to be reaching out too.”

The next day he texts Bucky.

Steve gets up from his seat, and is suddenly unsure of whether he’s supposed to pull Bucky in for a hug the way he usually does, or just shake his hand like they’re acquaintances.

Bucky solves his dilemma by pulling him into a tight hug, and it fixes something inside of him that he didn’t know was broken.

“Its good to see you man,” Bucky says, lifting up his mug to take a sip of his coffee, “It’s weird not talking to you for 3 months.”

“Thats what happens when your bestfriend is dating the guy you love” just because Steve missed Bucky doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt.

Bucky places his mug down, “I see we’re not beating around the bush”

“In the effort of full disclosure, I did genuinely believe you when you told me that it was platonic.”

“But I saw how much it was killing you, me and Tony together and I tried to break it off remember?”

Steve remembers. Tony’s downcast eyes and the way he would turn in himself everytime he and Bucky were in the same room.

Bucky points at him,” and you pushed for me to get back together with him. Remember that? I said no over and over but you just wouldn’t let it go,” he spreads out his arms, “and I was half in love with him myself by that point. After a while I couldn’t convince myself that it was for the best because you weren’t ever gonna fess up to your feelings.”

Steve would’ve done anything to get Tony to smile like that again, even if it meant thrusting Bucky at him.

“Look Steve you’re my family you know that,” Bucky takes in a deep breath, “But I was miserable, you were miserable, and so was Tony. It didn’t make sense for all of us to be miserable, especially since you were never going to tell Tony how you felt. And you kept throwing me at him like I -”

“I just wanted to be happy Steve, thats all. I never wanted it to be at the expense of your happiness, and I tried to back away I did. But for fuck’s sake Steve you wouldn’t even tell me how you felt and I just- I didn’t see any point in all of us being miserable is all.”

“You really do make him happy,” Steve says finally, “I was his friend for 5 years and I’ve never seen him smile the way he does around you.”

Bucky smiles, but there’s something broken about it, “yeah well, doesn’t really matter anymore; because we broke up a few weeks ago.”

and, oh.

It’s weird, hanging out with Bucky with this thing hanging over their heads.

It’s hard being his bestfriend when Bucky knows that Steve is happy that Bucky and Tony broke up.

But they manage.

and while it doesn’t fix Steve’s heart, it does make his life calmer.

(his life is always calmer with Bucky around)

It all comes to a head about 6 months later.

Steve’s in his usual coffee shop, which is just a few blocks away from Stark Industries so it genuinely shouldn’t be a surprise.

but he still feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him when he looks up from his sketchbook and sees,

Tony

(who’s frozen from his place in line, looking directly at him)

tbc

tag list: @honeybearrhodey, @rogers-stark45, @tried-our-best, @kirouskasa, @fincaffeinaddict, @endlesslove1084, @imaginestevetony

reblog (i check the tags) or comment if you wanna be tagged in p3

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noona-clock · 6 years

Text

Working On It - Part 3

Genre: Teacher!AU

Pairing: Brian (Day6) x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Oh, yeah, and I love you, Nothing’s Wrong

Of course, the first thing out of Sam’s mouth after you’d arrived home from The Grind had been, “Did he pay for your coffee?”

You’d had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, and you’d simply answered with, “It wasn’t a date. Get ready for bed.”

Thankfully, he hadn’t brought it up again the next day or over the weekend, and it had now been almost a week since you’d told Brian your somewhat tragic life story over hot, caffeinated beverages.

You were currently on your lunch break at work, trying to pay some bills online while devouring a PB&J. Just after you let out a sigh of relief when the final bill transaction went through (it was payday in a couple of days, so you were severely struggling), you remembered you’d seen a couple of email notifications from Sammy’s school.

You quickly tapped on your mail app, opening the first one you came across.

It only took a few seconds of scanning the message to realize he’d gotten in trouble again. Math class this time. His teacher wanted to meet with you after school - today if that was possible. You let your head hang, squeezing the bridge of your nose with your thumb and index finger.

“What’s wrong?”

You jumped, lifting your head up to see one of the dentists on the other side of the desk. She was dropping off a patient’s file, but she knew you were on your lunch break, so she simply set it off to the side so you could put it away later.

“Oh,” you breathed. “I -- I got another email from Sammy’s school. I have to go meet with one of his teachers again. Is it okay if I leave a little early? I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, of course, it’s fine,” the dentist assured you with a nod. “I think we only have a couple of appointments this afternoon, anyway.”

You thanked her profusely, promising you wouldn’t keep having to leave early for these parent-teacher conferences.

But then you remembered there had been two emails from the school.

You shifted your gaze back to your phone and clicked on the second one, reading it as quickly as you could.

Instead of making your heart sink, though, this one lifted your spirits. It was from the counselor, and she had just wanted to let you know that she had seen Sammy for the first time today. She wanted to see him twice a week from now on, so you knew that meant he was in need of some serious help.

Of course, he was. The boy had just lost both of his parents at once. Sometimes, when you cried yourself to sleep, it was only because you felt so bad for him.

He was an annoying pre-teen most of the time, a serious little shit some of the time, but underneath it all, he was a sweet kid. And he was your nephew. He was family. You loved him as much as it was possible to love a kid you didn’t physically give birth to. All you wanted to do was help him, and you felt really good about this counselor. You felt, for the first time in a while, like there was actually hope.

So, at least it wasn’t all bad news coming from school today. That was a small victory you were more than glad to accept.

A few hours later, you found yourself in a time warp. Except, rather than experiencing something which had happened years or even decades ago, you were repeating something which had happened just last week.

You parked at the school, signed in at the front desk, asked the clerk for directions, met Sammy’s teacher, apologized for his behavior, promised he would do better, and...

Well, you just felt completely incompetent. Again. Useless as a parental figure. Again.

You had one hand on Sammy’s shoulder as you walked in the hallway, headed toward the exit. Neither of you had said anything yet; you were still trying to figure out exactly what to say. Apparently, what you’d said last time hadn’t quite worked, although he’d gotten in trouble in math this time - not English.

And speaking of English...

You saw a very familiar figure up ahead, walking toward the two of you, and a smile came to his lips when he realized who you were.

“Br -- Mr. Kang,” you greeted when he got close enough, mustering up the best grin you could at the moment.

“Hey,” he replied. He slowed to a stop in front of you, his hands casually slung in his pockets. And then he nodded toward Sammy. “Hey, Samuel.”

“Hey,” Sammy replied darkly, just barely meeting his eye.

“I really enjoyed the poem you turned in today,” Brian continued. “You did a great job.”

You squeezed Sammy’s shoulder, wanting him to know you were proud of that - even if you were still upset with him.

“Thanks,” Sammy murmured. He then glanced up at you, shrugging your hand off. “I’m gonna go to my locker. I’ll meet you at the car.”

You simply nodded, your eyes following him as he headed off down the hall and turned the corner.

“I guess he’s moved on from disrupting your class to disrupting his math class,” you said softly, though you tried to keep your tone light.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he’s been a lot better since we talked.”

“That does help, actually. Hopefully, I won’t have to meet with all of his teachers, though. That would be just a little excessive,” you chuckled.

Brian let out a breath of a laugh before his expression turned into one of soft concern. “How are you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m all right,” you replied with a shrug. “Doing what I can. Oh! I got an email from the counselor today. She said she met with him, and she wants to see him two times a week. I’m sure I won’t hear anything about it from Sammy.”

“No, probably not,” Brian chuckled. “I’m glad she got to him so quickly.”

“Seriously, thank you.” You reached out and put a hand on his arm in just the way he had done to you more than once last week. “You truly don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. I know I have a lot of students, but I really do care about all of them. I want to help them in any way I can.”

You couldn’t stop a very admiring grin from appearing on your lips, and in the back of your head, you wondered if you were kind of looking at Brian the same way that girl had looked at her manager boyfriend at The Grind last week.

“I sincerely hope there are more teachers out there like you,” you told him, feeling your cheeks get just a bit warm.

Brian quickly looked down at the floor then, shuffling his feet as a bashful smile pulled at his lips. “I just love my job, is all,” he told you with an embarrassed chuckle. And then he changed the subject, his eyebrows raising when he asked, “Can I walk you out to your car?”

You let your hand fall from his arm, moving it to clutch your purse strap a bit awkwardly. “Yeah, sure,” you answered.

Brian turned around, allowing you to lead the way before falling into step next to you.

“So, Sammy really turned in a good poem today?” you asked a bit skeptically.

“He did,” Brian affirmed. “I don’t know what you said to him after our meeting, but whatever it was, it worked. He’s been showing a lot more effort in his work the past few days.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. “Honestly... all I said was it’s one thing to disrespect me at home, but he can’t disrespect his teachers. It can’t happen anymore.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, I told him I wasn’t good at English, either, and maybe we could get him a tutor. But he said a definite ‘no’ to that. And then he called you kinda cool for a nerdy, old guy.”

“What?!” Brian laughed. “He called me a nerdy, old guy?!”

“Don’t you worry, I got onto him for that,” you grinned. “I said you were definitely not that much older than me, and if he wanted pizza for dinner, he would take it back. And he did. He said we were both very, very young.”

“See? I told you he was a bright boy.”

You felt pure, genuine laughter bubble up in your throat, and you honestly wondered how long it had been since you’d laughed. Really laughed. You and Sammy had some good times - especially when you got him to let you play video games with him - but you still couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d laughed until you cried. Or until your stomach hurt. Or until you couldn’t breathe.

You also wondered how long it would be until you laughed like that again.

Brian opened the door leading to the parking lot when you arrived at the front of the school, and you murmured a soft ‘thanks’ after you waved good-bye to the receptionist at the desk.

“Hopefully, I won’t run into you again like this,” you said when you saw Sam leaning against the passenger side door of your car. “I would very much like to not visit the school again. Unless it’s to chaperone a field trip or something. But it was still nice to see you.”

“It was nice to see you, too,” Brian replied.

You could’ve sworn he purposely slowed his steps, so you did, too. And then he took one giant step forward, enough to get in front of you, and he turned around to face you.

“Do you think -- could I get your phone number?”

Your brow furrowed, and you tilted your head slightly in confusion. “Did I forget to fill it out on the registration form?” you asked, racking your brain to try and remember. I mean, you had only gotten emails from the school so far...

“No,” he answered with a barely detectable grin. “You didn’t forget. I just... didn’t want to text you out of the blue.”

“Ohhhhh, gotcha.”

But... wait - did you really get it? What did he actually mean?

“You want to text me?” you asked, just in case you’d heard him incorrectly.

“If it’s okay with you.”

You honestly had no idea why Sammy’s English teacher would want to text you, but... okay. “I mean, yeah. Why not?”

That barely detectable smile turned into a real one, and Brian turned back around so he could finish walking you to your car.

Once you’d unlocked the doors, Sam wasted no time in scrambling inside, completely ignoring both you and Brian (though, you weren’t surprised).

“Thank you again,” you said a bit softly as Brian opened the door for you.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded, one corner of his lips lifted into a rakish half-smile.

After you sat down, started the car, and buckled your seat belt, you waited for Brian to be safely out of the way before backing up and starting your drive home.

“Why did Mr. Kang walk you out?” Sam asked, his gaze focused on the moving scenery out of his window.

“I dunno,” you shrugged. “Because he’s polite.”

“...What did you talk about?”

“He told me how well you’re doing in his class,” you said, deciding to leave out the part where he’d asked for your number. Sam would totally get the wrong idea.

“...He did?”

“Yep,” you answered casually. “And I’m very proud of you for that. I would love to hear things like that from your math teacher, too.”

Sam simply sighed, and that was the last noise he made until you were pulling into the parking lot in front of your apartment complex.

“I think Mr. Kang likes you,” was the first thing he said to break his silence.

“What?!” you laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“He walked you out to your car. He was smiling at you!”

“So? That’s called being friendly and having manners. You’ve heard of those before, right?” you teased. “Manners?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Sam waited until the two of you were out of the car before continuing. “He’s into you. First, he asked you out for coffee, and now he’s walking you to your car. I’m telling you, he likes you.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head, letting out a little giggle. “That is not correct,” you said in your best impression of that one Chrish Vine.

youtube

Sam let out a dismayed groan. You laughed out loud before stepping over to him and hooking your arm around his neck.

“You love me so much, don’t you?” you beamed.

“No, but Mr. Kang does.”

“Sammy!”

“I mean, I do love you!”

You simply rolled your eyes. Twelve-year-olds have some imagination, huh?

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked as you unlocked the door to your apartment.

“Pizza.”

“What else do you want for dinner?”

“McDonald’s.”

“Spaghetti it is.”

Sam, knowing you were going to tell him this as soon as you closed the door behind you anyway, went straight to the couch and unzipped his bookbag. And while he got started on homework, you got started on dinner.

It had been a long week - and it was only Wednesday - so after Sam had helped you clean up after dinner, you’d proclaimed he could play video games since you had plans to do a face mask and catch up on your favorite sitcom.

“Did you know you’re the best aunt ever?” he’d asked, pointing a finger at you.

“Yes, I did, but it’s nice to hear someone else say it,” you’d replied. And then you’d checked your time on your phone. “You have two and a half hours.”

Sam had immediately scrambled over the back of the couch, grabbed the remote, turned the TV on, and got his video game controller ready.

You had turned toward your bathroom, opened one of the few sheet masks you owned, and got ready to relax.

Now, ten minutes later, you were leaning against your pillow with your head tilted up to keep the mask on, pulling up the latest episode of your TV show. Just after you pressed ‘play,’ though, the sound of a text message coming through on your phone pierced through the air, your screen lighting up with the notification.

You quickly paused the show, lifting your phone up to your face and seeing it was a message from an unfamiliar number. Your brow furrowed as you slid your finger over, waiting to read this mystery message.

Oh! Duh. He’d just told you this afternoon he was going to text you. You’d completely forgotten, but now you were curious all over again.

You typed out a quick reply, even sending an emoji because you were cool and young and hip, just like him.

You were just about to lock your screen after changing his contact name, but you noticed he read your message almost immediately and started typing something within seconds.

Your brow furrowed slightly as you waited, and when his message appeared...

What in the world could he be talking about? You were about to reply with “Okay, I’m listening...” but you saw he had already started typing again.

You held your breath as you stared at the three little dots, an anxious bundle of nerves starting to form in your stomach.

...Oh, wow.

Part 4

#young k scenarios #young k imagines #young k fanfic #young k au #young k fluff #day6 scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 fanfic #day6 au #day6 fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop au #kpop fluff #young k #brian kang #day6 brian #day6 brian fanfic

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calisotadreamin · 5 years

Text

When Donald met God

Hello! Today we’re looking at “A Very Special Day” by Gorm Transgaard (script) and Flemming Andersen (art) (Inducks). It’s a celebration comic for Donald’s 70th anniversary as a character in 2004. It is essentially a variation on the “It’s a Wonderful Life” plot, which has been used several times in Duck comics. Don Rosa used it for his celebration of Donald’s 60th anniversary, for example.

The premise here is that Donald is in a self-pitying mood over his bad luck and he wishes his life was different. What if he was a lucky duck instead? And he finds a way to actually make that change. But as always in these comics, he learns that he is fine the way he is.

It is also one of the few comics to feature God himself as a major supporting character, which is unusual. Because of length and to protect those who are not ready to see the face of God, the rest is under the cut.

The story takes place on Donald’s birthday, which doesn’t begin well for him. He falls out of bed and down the stairs, just to start things off. Donald is understandably in a bad mood because of this and curses his bad luck and wishes he would have never been born.

He comes across a fortune teller, Visionette (I like her personality and design, by the way). She can see nothing but ill fortune in store for Donald. Donald is even more distraught of his lot in life and Visionette takes pity on him. She decides that Donald should plead his case with the big man upstairs, who she is on a first-name basis with. The two drink a potion that makes their souls leave their bodies, as you do:

I like the creepy vacant expression on their literally soulless bodies.

And then they take off for the stars. Are you ready for God? For here he is:

Yes, turns out that God looks and acts like a amiable middle-aged office worker. A celestial bureaucrat.

Because this is a Disney comic, he is of course not called God explicitly. In German, he is (roughly translated) called “the Great Registrator”, but I prefer the Swedish version in which he is called “The File Clerk”. And I was not kidding when I said Visionette is on a first-name basis with him. In German she calls him Rudi and in Swedish Knut-Arne, which are both peak middle-aged man names. For native English speakers, I suppose “Joe” or “Dave” would have similar connotations.

But I wasn’t joking when I said The File Clerk is God, or a sufficiently similar substitute there of. With his computer, he determines the lives of everyone on Earth. He programmed it himself way at the dawn of time and can change the fate of every person at will. I strongly doubt it was intentional, but this is actually a quite frightening idea if you think about it. There is no free will or happenstance in life, everything is determined by the will of a powerful being. Even Jean Calvin didn’t go that far.

When Donald learns this, he angrily berates The File Clerk and asks why must get all the bad luck, as his old theme song goes. It is literally the standard question of the self-pitying person: “Why me, God?”

The File Clerk first tells him to just accept his lot in life, but eventually agrees to change Donald’s fate. He removes all the accidents and mistakes in Donald’s file, past, present and future. And instead The Clerk writes a new life for Donald in which Donald is rich, famous and successful and surrounded by beautiful women.

When this is done, the File Clerk leaves his computer for his lunch break (yes, really). And Visionette decides to commander his computer and give Donald a glimpse of his new life in luxury.

Lucky!Donald lives the cliché rich guy life with a mansion, servants and alimousine. And as you can tell by his expression, living a life without problems has spoiled him and made him into a selfish and arrogant jerk. It turns out that the catch of being born lucky like Gladstone, also means you develop a personality like Gladstone’s. In fact, this Donald is arguably worse: Gladstone on figurative steroids.

A beggar comes and asks for food and lucky!Donald’s response is to order his hired goons to throw him out. Regular!Donald is of course horrified by his new self: " I’m rich now, why didn’t I just give him a sandwich.” But Visionette explains that his new self has never experienced misfortune. He doesn’t know what bad luck is and therefore he feels no empathy with the poor.

Daisy is now just his maid, who he doesn’t care about. One thing I don’t like about the script is that Daisy still is in love with him, despite lucky!Donald not showing any traits that can justify that love. Her having a crush on him makes no sense whatsoever.

Lucky!Donald is indeed surrounded by women who pretend to be smitten with him, but they are of course only interested in his wealth and are secretly disgusted by him. Think Donald Trump and his wives, and you’re not far off.

Scrooge of course has zero respect for this version of Donald. He is now quite poor, because while he may be the better businessman, he can’t compete with Donald’s luck. Every stupid investment Donald makes somehow turns a profit.

Regular!Donald realizes that practically the entire world hates his new self. But, he says, there is always Huey, Dewey and Louie. Nothing in the world could come between him and his nephews. I’m truly moved, Donald, but let’s see about that:

Donald isn’t exactly wrong, the boys still seem to want his affection. As a birthday present, they give him a cutting board which they have made themselves in school. That’s cute, but...

... lucky!Donald just throws it away. Regular!Donald’s expression says it all, really. Donald realizes what a mistake he has made. The File Clerk returns, fuming about them using his computer without permission. Donald begs him to change everything back to how it he used to be, but...

...No dice. Donald has made his bed and now he must lie in it. He and Visionette return to Earth, where Donald’s spirit finds that his old body is gone.

The spirit of his old self will soon vanish when Visionette’s spell runs out and all that will be left is his horrible new life.

The only ting that can be done is for Visionette to reconstruct him with her magic. However, she needs some part of his old body to do that. Luckily, there are some feathers left.

You’ve brewed a Donald! It works, everything is back to normal.

But this miraculous rescue was in fact a miracle. The File Clerk had arranged it by placing the feathers on the floor, knowing that Donald has learned his lesson. Donald’s case isn’t the first time this has happened. “Strange how no one wants the change, when they actually get it.", he muses.

And so Donald returns to home to his real birthday party. He literally trips and falls into his own birthday cake, but now he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. The End.

So what do I think about this story? The premise is an interesting and imaginative twist on the “It’s a Wonderful Life” plot, which makes it seem new.

Of course, the premise relies on a high concept, the logic of which doesn’t hold all the way. As stated above, the whole idea of the File Clerk seems to imply the ducks have no free will, although that was probably unintentional.

It is however a good comic overall. I like Flemming Andersen’s art and the script has its strengths. God the middle-aged office worker is just brilliant. And the depiction of a Donald who was born lucky is genuinely disturbing. Therefore the vindication of Donald’s regular personality in the ending feels really cathartic. It just works emotionally.

#disney duck comics #donald duck #flemming andersen #gorm transgaard

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raywritesthings · 5 years

Text

Dear Friend, 7/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end. *Can also be read on my AO3*

She was elbow deep in a file with a couple of clerks when her phone started ringing late one morning. Knowing she’d lose whatever detail she was trying to find if she broke off now, Laurel nodded to her cell on the desk and met one of the clerk’s eyes.

“Can you get that?”

Abby nodded and picked it up. “ADA Lance’s phone, can I take a message.” There was a pause, then Abby covered the phone with one hand. “Um, there’s a man asking if you can meet him for lunch.”

Laurel looked up. “What?” She stepped around the desk and took the phone, glancing at the caller ID.

Oh.

“Seriously, Ollie?”

“You did say any time between 11:30 and 2:00.” The slight teasing tone left his voice as he asked, “Does today not work for you?”

She had half a mind to give him an irritated yes, but she paused. This was the first time Oliver had even tried to take her up on her offer. Had something happened?

“No, I can make it.” She looked over her shoulder at the clerks and the pile of work on her desk. “Just, maybe give me thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Oliver promised, and he hung up before she could reply.

Laurel shook her head and returned to her work, not even leaving room for her assistants to ask any questions.

True to his word, Oliver was rapping on her door frame just after noon. She grabbed her purse and walked with him out of City Hall.

“Your pick,” Oliver said. “You’d know better than me what’s good around here.”

So they really were just getting lunch. Laurel led them along to a sandwich and soup place, trying to gauge his mood. Oliver had been odd ever since his and John’s trip to Nanda Parbat, but nothing about this seeming good mood rang false.

She couldn’t resist asking as they sat down with their food, “So what brought this on?”

“Does something have to have brought this on?”

She gave him a look.

Oliver shook his head but was smiling just a little. “A lot’s been going on. With the League, the team. I guess I realized maybe I could use a little normal.”

“Okay.” She started to unwrap her sandwich, and he did the same.

“What were you working on when I called?”

“Building a case. You know, the usual.”

“Right. How’s your dad? I’ve been trying to stay out of his way.”

“Yeah.” She didn’t blame him. Even if she had told her father the Arrow wasn’t at fault, he was still likely to lash out if provoked. “He’s drinking again. Angry. Feels like old times.”

“I’m sorry.”

Laurel lifted her eyes from her plate. “There’s no point in saying it, Ollie. We’ve both made our positions on Malcolm clear.”

He nodded. “I wish there was some other way.”

“You do?” It was the first he’d said so.

“I miss seeing you happy.”

She had trouble finding her voice for a moment. “Well, I’m not — I’m better than I have been. Going out there with you guys helps.”

Oliver nodded.

“What about you?” Laurel risked glancing up at him while keeping her face tilted down. “Are you happy?”

“Trying to be.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“A lot. Me, mostly.” Oliver sighed. “Maybe it is possible to have a life along with the work that we do, but so far I have not been able to find that balance the way the rest of you have.”

“Well, hold the applause, because I’m not sure I’m the best example of someone who has it all,” she remarked. “What do you feel like is missing from your life? A job, a social sphere?”

“A little bit. Connection. A relationship, I guess,” was his final answer, causing her heart to sink despite herself. “The trouble is those never work out for me. And at this point, I’m not sure it’s what I deserve.”

Laurel sighed. Ever since he had first come home to Starling, it seemed Oliver was in constant conflict with himself over what he could or couldn’t have. That back-and-forth had burned her more than once. The least she could do was help spare the next woman. “As much as things have gone wrong at times, as mad as you can make me — you always have the best intentions. I don’t think that anyone who is genuinely trying to do good for others deserves anything less than happiness. Even if it’s not today.”

He looked at her, lips forming the slightest potential of a smile. “You really believe that?”

“I have to. You’re not the only person who’s made mistakes, you know.”

He shook his head. “I think if we get into comparisons, it’s gonna become obvious pretty fast which of us deserves that happiness.”

“Good thing it’s not a zero sum game, then,” she replied. Then she took up her food again, keeping her eyes on it as she spoke. “So stop stopping yourself, would be my advice. If you want to start a relationship, then you should go for it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “The worst thing is to have to wonder what might have been. Trust me.” Laurel hoped her smile met muster, but it was an effort to keep up.

“Okay. Thanks, I needed to hear that.” Oliver settled back in his seat as he also returned to his food.

They talked about this and that for the rest of the meal, never straying into anything that serious. He even walked her back to her office. It was the nicest lunch she’d had in a while.

Oliver could be really sweet when he wanted to; he’d make someone else very happy.

If there was any consolation, it was that all this talk seemed to be purely in the theoretical. After all, Oliver wasn’t currently spending time around many single woman. She’d have some time to prepare herself for that inevitably.

—-

John was certain in his decision to marry Lyla. That didn’t mean he liked all the decisions that came with a marriage, or rather a wedding.

Things had been much simpler in Afghanistan. No questions of table centerpieces or who sat where, what their colors were going to be. He’d jokingly suggested camo and gotten a roll of the eyes out of Lyla for that. About the only worthwhile part of the planning was when they had decided what part little Sara was going to play in all of it. A part of him was glad she was here ahead of the wedding; it was their love for her and each other that had him going through with this.

But he was going to tear out the little hair he had if they didn’t get this guest list situation sorted out soon.

Felicity had flipped back and forth on whether she wanted to bring Palmer, knowing John didn’t completely approve of the situation. Then Thea had dropped her plus one. A couple of the guests on Lyla’s side had had to cancel last minute due to unexpected assignments. But he thought they had the whole thing settled now.

It was the last possible person he could have ever expected to throw a final monkey wrench into the whole thing.

That afternoon he made it down to the base ahead of everyone else. Everyone else, that was, except Oliver. His friend was going through his usual workout, but rather than at least finish the set he was on, Oliver stopped as soon as he noticed John enter the room.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Something up?”

Oliver nodded rather than answer. He took a long pull of the water bottle he’d set aside, and John couldn’t help noticing the fingers of his free hand twitching at his side. Nervous energy.

Oliver wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and said, “John, I need a favor. And it’s about the wedding.”

John shook his head. “Look man, there’s nothing you need to worry about. You’re good with speeches, and there just isn’t a better choice. You’re my brother.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that, really.” Some of Oliver’s tension had dissipated, but not entirely. “I was wondering if it’s too late to ask for a plus one.”

John stared. “You’re bringing a date?”

“Hopefully.” Oliver licked his lips. “I still have to ask her.”

“But you haven’t been dating anyone.” When would he have even had time?

“It’s sort of a long story.”

John crossed his arms. “Alright, when did you meet this girl?”

“This past fall.”

“But Felicity—”

“It wasn’t until after we tried — she should be okay with it. She’s got Ray.”

He had to raise an eyebrow at that. It was Ray now?

“And this woman knows you were in love with Felicity.”

“She knows I was trying to get over someone. But it was one failed date, John,” Oliver reminded him.

“And how many dates have you been on with this new woman?”

His friend looked like he only just held back from rolling his eyes. “Look, I know it’s sudden. And you have every right to say no. This is your wedding, and I don’t want to bring someone into it that’s going to complicate things for you or Lyla,” said Oliver. “But I have given a lot of thought to this, about whether this is a step I want to take with her, and I think I do. I think I want to introduce her to the other people in my life.”

He didn’t know what to think. Yes, Oliver had been rather quiet on the whole Felicity front for a while, but he’d thought that had been his friend’s typical coping mechanism of repression. How could he have missed this?

“You’re really moving on?”

“Yeah.” Oliver didn’t sound sad or wistful. In fact, there was the smallest smile on his face. “Yeah, I think I am.”

John sighed. “Alright. Yeah, we got room for one more.”

Oliver’s smile made it actually seem worth it. “Thank you, John.”

“Anything I should know about her?”

“Well, she’s funny, but sort of with an edge to it? Tough, but really just kind underneath it all. She is a really good listener. I mean, I know I only started talking to her about four months ago, but it feels like we’ve been friends for years.” His voice had grown softer and his smile, though still present, shy. He really liked this girl.

John pushed the misgivings he might have had to the side and reached out to squeeze his friend’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Could he really begrudge him for trying to move on when Felicity was doing likewise? Though that did make him wonder just what Felicity would have to say about all this.

Oliver left to grab a bite to eat — was he meeting this new woman? — and within half an hour Felicity arrived at the base.

It would only be fair to warn her, right? He didn’t really want some blow up at his wedding.

So he approached her station at the computers. “Did you know Oliver was dating?”

“What?” Felicity looked totally shocked for a moment, until suddenly her confused expression cleared up. “Oh! Yeah, I set him up with an online account. Didn’t really think he’d tell you about that.”

John frowned. “He didn’t.”

Felicity frowned in an almost perfect echo. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he didn’t mention the online bit. Just asked me for a plus one to the wedding.”

“Woah, something actually happened?”

“Guess so.” Now the misgivings were back in full force. Oliver thought he was serious about some online chick? Did he even know if she was real?

“Well, who is she? What’s she like?”

He thought of what Oliver had said and shook his head. Anybody could pretend to be witty and charming online. “I have no idea. He didn’t even tell me her name.”

“He must be really serious about her if he’s meeting her in-person and everything,” Felicity said, her eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.”

She blinked and looked up at him again. “Why would you be sorry? This is exactly what I wanted.”

“But you — I mean, why set him up with someone else?”

“Because I have watched other women try to get over Oliver Queen. And that is impossible to do when he is single. Helena went crazy, McKenna has never come back to the city. I mean, Laurel hasn’t dated for almost two years because of how things turned out with him and Tommy! I do not need that kind of emotional scarring.” She took a breath, and her tone grew more subdued. “And I guess I made the right call, if he really could get over me by talking to some online woman.”

“I’ll tell him not to invite her,” John decided.

“Well, you already gave him the plus one,” Felicity reminded him. “And if you take it back now he’s going to think I had some problem with it, which I don’t. I’m happy with where things are between me and Ray. The last thing I need is an Oliver swinging in at the eleventh hour.”

“If you’re sure.” A thought occurred to him. “You don’t think you could use his phone, trace this girl’s signal back to the source?”

Felicity was already shaking her head. “Oh no, I am not getting involved.”

“But it could be anybody on the other end. He could be setting himself up to get real hurt.”

“Well, that’s a risk he’s going to have to take if he wants to meet her. But I don’t even want to know how angry he’d get if he found out I hacked his phone. You couldn’t even pay me. Not that any of you ever have,” she added in an undertone as she swiveled her chair so her back faced him. A pretty good indicator that the conversation was over.

John sighed and backed off. He could only hope they weren’t all making a huge mistake, and that Oliver was right that he really did know this girl.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #john diggle #felicity smoak #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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frangipanidownunder · 7 years

Note

It's weekend. M and S are working on a case. M uses Scullys restroom and finds a second toothbrush and an used aftershave

Nothing but silly nonsense. Tagging @today-in-fic

The Trouble with Toothbrushes

He’d driven for hours,broken speed limits. Dawn seeped across the sky and he swigged his sludgycoffee as the last few miles of coastal road slipped by. The ocean rolled darkgreen beyond, topped with foamy breakers. Scully’s voice echoed through histired mind.

“I don’t need you here, Mulder. I’mfine. There is no case. I just did the local PD a favour. This place is tinyand the ME is on vacation.”

A few calls later and he’ddiscovered that she’d been asked to perform a couple of autopsies on victims ofwhat seemed to be a serial killer with an unusual MO. On what was supposed tobe a weekend break. The more he dug, the more it sounded like she’ddeliberately headed to this seaside town as a replacement for the ME. She’dbeen at Quantico with her. And the way the Police Chief spoke, calling her Danaall the time, got under his skin.

“The bodies have been mutilated andthey’ve never seen anything like it,” she told him. He was already throwingclothes in an overnight bag. “But it’s not an X-File.”

“So what’s the cause of death? Wherewere the bodies found? How many more of them are there?” He scrabbled at the backof the bathroom cupboard for his washbag. Where the fuck was that thing?

“Mulder…” a noise in the background,a deep guttural chuckle to which she responded with a hushed giggle, and then shecut him off. “I’ve got to go, Mulder. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” hesaid to his phone. He’d pick up anything he needed on when he got there.

He flashed his badgeto the motel clerk and before he’d even pocketed it, the man handed him a sparekey to her room. He crossed the parking lot and stood in front of room 27. Heshould probably phone her to warn her he was on his way. He really should. Hefished for his phone but put it back. She’d never let him in. She’d blast himout through his earpiece and he might as well let her do it face to face. Heknocked.

She pulled back the door and hewalked in before she could even rub the sleep out of her eyes. “Morning sunshine,I really need to use your bathroom.” He handed her the empty coffee cup andslunk by before she could kneecap him. She hadn’t even uttered his name beforehe locked the door and flipped the seat up. Relief flowed out. For a long time.

“Mulder!” she banged on the door. “Whatthe hell? I knew you’d come, you shit.”

Relief dried up. “You know me toowell, Scully.”

“Well, you clearly don’t know me. I’mpissed, Mulder. You’d better come out of that bathroom with the best apology onyour lips or you’re going to find out just how pissed I am.”

The small room was packed withlotions and pots and bottles, some familiar products. It felt illicit, staringat them, letting his eyes wander over her personal items. But she was outside, packingheat and fury. He needed a moment for her to calm down, see sense. He was herpartner. She was on a case. They were supposed to work together. What would shethink if he ditched her…he never would…

“Mulder. Come out. Right. Fucking.Now.” The door bowed under her furious hammering. He stepped back in surprise,the sink digging into his waist. He turned and caught a bottle that dislodgedfrom the small shelf. Pour Homme by PacoRabanne.

“You’re walking a fine line, Mulder.”Her voice was now a low threatening hum.

“Nearly done. How’s Chief Hollins?”

A beat. A definite pause. “Who?”

As if she didn’t know. “Hollins. TheChief of Police. What’s his take? Is he sniffing out suspects?” He squeezed thebottle in his palm, the black edges of the glass digging into his skin.

“Mulder, if you’d like to get out ofmy bathroom and give me one good reason why you’re here, on my vacationweekend, you might find I’m happy to share details of this case with you. Butall the while I’m talking to a door in MY motel room, I’m just smelling a rat.A huge, stinking, untrusting, kinda stalky rat.”

Stalky? Untrusting? He put thebottle down on the shelf and braced his hands on the sink. He blinked. Twotoothbrushes. Two. Toothbrushes. He picked up the blue one and gripped itshandle. Until his knuckles turned white. He unlocked the door and stormed out.

Scully leapt out of his way. “Jesus, Mulder.”

He watched as her nightgown swung around her thighs. Not nightgown,really. Not like those satin things she normally wore. This was more like atee. Oversized. A man’s tee. Grey and falling to mid-thigh. “Just how manyteeth do you have, Scully?” he said, thrusting the brush into her face.

She ducked back, looked at the toothbrush, then at him, before raisingherself up to whatever her full height was in bare feet, and folded her arms. “Ihave 32, Mulder. Just like most adults. Sixteen on top, sixteen on bottom, butsometimes,” she said, stepping forward and whipping the brush out his hand, “SometimesI wish I could grow an extra set or three just so I could chew you out evenharder. What the actual fuck are you doing, Mulder? You look like you’ve drivenhere in one hit, overnight.”

He turned away, ready to retrieve the offending cologne.

“Oh my God, Mulder. You did, didn’t you? What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me, Scully? I’m not the one who’s investigating an XFile on holiday.” He used air quotes and she chuffed out a long sigh as shewalked past him with the toothbrush. “And I’m not the one with two toothbrushesand man’s cologne in my bathroom.”

“I see,” she said, appearing at the door with a mouthful of foamingtoothpaste. “So you think I’m sleeping with Chief Hollins, do you?”

He spread his hands out. “I didn’t say that, Scully. And who you sleepwith is entirely your business…”

“You’re damned right, Mulder. And for the last time, this isn’t an XFile.” She spat and ran the tap, scooping water into her mouth with the brush. Herhair hung over the side of her face, slightly mussed still, and the tee rose upas she bent. “Do you mind?” she said, grabbing the door handle as he backedout. She slammed it shut.

He sat on the bed,trying hard not to pull back the covers to look for sheet patterns and…

“Mulder, if you start going throughmy things out there…”

He clapped his hands together, laidthem in his lap, looked around the room at the violently bright orangecurtains, the flocked wallpaper, the woodland landscape hanging lop-sided overthe bed. And when she finally emerged, wearing a towelling robe and a deathscowl, she was holding his washbag. His missing washbag.

“I packed your stuff back in it,”she said, handing it to him. “I didn’t realise it was in my bag until I gothere. Yours and mine together, nestled at the bottom of my case, like theybelonged there. I can never really go anywhere without you, can I?”

Nestled. Belonged. “Oh.”

“And I’ll wash your tee and give itback to you next week.”

His tee. His missing heather greyone that he liked to sleep in because it reminded him of… “Don’t worry aboutit, Scully. I’m…”

“Sorry? Sorry for rushing up herefor no reason. Sorry for not trusting me when I said it wasn’t an X File? Sorryfor ruining my vacation weekend?” She grabbed a suit from the closet anddisappeared back in to the bathroom.

Yes, all of the above. He floppedback down on the bed and waited for her to return. She slipped on her heels insilence. She checked her medical bag, put her phone inside and grabbed the carkeys. “Are you coming, Mulder?”

He probably never would again.Humiliation was a real downer. “What for?”

“To see the bodies and the casereports, seeing as how you’ve made the trip. I know Chief Hollins would love tomeet you. Your reputation has travelled up here too.” She smiled as she openedthe door. A genuine smile. A Scully smile.

“I am sorry, Scully,” he said as heslid into the passenger seat, relieved not to have to drive anywhere. An aromafilled the car. He inhaled as he she pulled the seatbelt over her chest. Pour Homme. His cologne. Not on him.

“I know,” she put her hand on his thigh.“You’re you. You always are. And,” she said, squeezing his knee and holding hisgaze. “Truth is, I missed you.”

#txf fanifc #my fanfiction #todayinfic #she does miss him #even when he's a jerk

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bluraaven · 6 years

Text

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 5

Fuck him, he was one lucky bastard. Dismas grinned as he pulled Reynauld along, through the automatic doors of the hotel and towards the elevators. Stairs were too much of a hassle at this point and besides, he wasn't sure if they would make it up the four stories. The way things were headed, he wanted nothing more than a soft bed and a door to lock out the rest of the world.

He had not expected tonight to go as it had. Dismas had entered Jubie's with the intent of drinking until he wouldn't be able to see or think straight, until all the shit in his life would go away on its own. Until he could no longer stew on how the pigs couldn't just storm somebody's room like that; not without a warrant or being invited. But then, of course they could. What were his options anyway? Going to court to file a complaint?

He couldn't even blame the night clerk for doing jack shit. They probably had a stash of drugs somewhere and were really glad the police was distracted looking another way. The raid had still cost Dismas a roof over his head and most of his possessions, which were few to begin with. The former was replaceable, and he had enough money stashed away in other safe places, but that didn't mean the close call had not rattled him. For a while he had felt the tightening of the noose around his neck as he watched the shreds of his life being confiscated and carried away, unable to do anything but hide in the shadows.

Louet's arrest, the raid, the anger, frustration and fear of the past days; all would be forgotten in the haze of booze. He'd pick a fight, get his ass tossed out of the bar, and then pass out while being patched up by Audrey.

It had been a sound plan, which now it lay in shatters at the feet of Mr. Perfect, and his heart-stopping smile. Reynauld didn't just look like he had stepped out of the front page of a magazine, he also kissed like the real deal.

Dismas briefly thought of asking for Reynauld's phone number – maybe they could hook up again sometime. Shit, they hadn't even done anything yet. He shouldn't jump the gun. Perhaps Reynauld was terrible in bed. Or he had some weird kinks that not even Dismas, although he had always considered himself to be fairly adventurous and relaxed about those things, could live with. Or he just wouldn't want to meet again with a guy who was that obviously desperate – desperate not just for a quick lay but for being with another human being. One who wasn't the same four people he considered his friends, somebody who could make him feel a little bit less like the bag of trash left by the door and a lot more like someone who deserved this kind of affection.

The 'up' button began to glow orange when Dismas jabbed it a couple of times, as if that would make the elevator descend quicker. Reynauld chuckled, and damn if that low rumble wasn't more of a punch to the gut than anything a thug could throw at him.

He wasn't ashamed to admit he was a sucker for those warm brown eyes, and the tiny creases that appeared at their corners whenever Reynauld smiled. He was generous with those, and he had a laugh Dismas could die for. The kind that came from deep within, genuine and impossible not to join in.

Dismas knew he was one idiot in love. He'd always crashed hard and fast, and he could contemplate this terrible mistake as he the elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. Reynauld moved closer, his arms on each side of Dismas so that he could trap him between the rail and himself.

"Hey."

"Hm?" Dismas hummed, lifting his gaze from between his feet.

Reynauld must've caught on to something. His brows furrowed, one hand rubbing circles over Dismas' stomach and side. "What's wrong?"

"I feel good," Dismas said with a small, self-disparaging laugh. "Something bad will surely happen in a moment. For instance, we could get stuck in this elevator."

Disaster did have a tendency to strike when things were going well. Life seemed to get its kicks out of kicking him in the teeth. Dismas had gotten used to rolling with the blows of fate, but he hated how now every moment of happiness also carried a hint of urgency, of trepidation.

The corner of Reynauld's mouth twitched, and then he took full advantage of his position, leaning in and tracing the shape of Dismas' lips with his own, the touch feather light and almost tickling.

Dismas couldn't tell if the dizzy weightless feeling was from kissing Reynauld, or the elevator taking off. He did jump a bit when they stopped too early and the doors opened to a surprised-looking man and woman. The couple looked at them, then at each other, and didn't get on.

"Sorry, this one's taken," Reynauld said and reached over Dismas to push the button for the doors to close.

The girl laughed, and then they both disappeared from view and were forgotten just as quickly.

Dismas ran the palm of his hand over Reynauld's bearded cheek, turning his head around to steal one more kiss before a soft ding announced they had arrived on the right floor. The corridor was brightly lit, almost too much so after the outdoors and the muted elevator lights, and Dismas blinked owlishly as his eyes stung and watered.

They went left and then took the first right, stopping in front of a wooden door with the number 41. There, Dismas found out just how difficult finding and fitting the right key inside the keyhole was when you had a hunk pressing up against you from the back, peppering your neck with kisses that promised so much more to come.

"Easy there, darlin'," he muttered, because at this rate they might as well have a roll on the carpeted floor. But after several unsuccessful the lock finally clicked, and Reynauld marched them both into the semi-dark room. There was just enough light to see by from the neon letters and the street lamps outside, and that was well because Dismas never got to flip the switch.

He fell against the door the moment it closed behind them, his back to the wood, his front pressed against Reynauld. They were close enough that he could feel the strength in the other man's arms, the way his muscles shifted under his clothes. Too many clothes. But they would surely resolve that problem in a short while.

For now it was enough for Dismas let his head fall back, to better allow Reynauld to kiss along his jaw line, then down his throat and up the side of his neck. He caught Dismas' earlobe between his teeth, and pulled until Dismas turned his head and kissed him, deep and messy.

The way the soldier's arms tightened around him, the air was pressed out of him with an involuntary grunt, but Dismas wasn't a china doll. He wouldn't want it any other way as long as he was still able to breathe. Warm saliva on his neck and lips quickly cooled in the crisp night air, but the rest of Dismas' body was hot, and Reynauld was a furnace.

And fuck, did he smell good.

When Reynauld's hands found their way under Dismas' shirt, it was a bit too late to worry whether he would like what he found there. Dismas had always thought he was in pretty decent shape, but he knew that he couldn't hide how hunger and violence had been stellar companions throughout his life.

Reynauld didn't seem to mind at all. He ran his palms up Dismas' ribs and over his chest, and when he withdrew it was only to help him lose the coat. The shirt followed a couple of seconds after, and Reynauld turned his attention to undoing Dismas' belt buckle.

"Somebody's eager," Dismas chuckled, grasping Reynauld's hands with his own.

"I want to see you naked," Reynauld said, no longer ripping clothes off Dismas, but rather looking at him for direction.

"Then let's take this somewhere more comfortable, huh?" Dismas suggested, and walked in the direction of the bed, not taking his eyes off Reynauld's face. He sat down when his knees hit the mattress and toed off his boots. Reynauld helped him pull off his pants and then crawled over him on all fours while Dismas scooted back on his elbows.

The soldier's tags fell out of his shirt, and they were warm from resting on his own skin, the chain allowing Dismas to tug Reynauld low enough he could whisper into his ear,

"Come on, baby, take off that shirt."

Dismas had to let go again when Reynauld sat up abruptly, and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion.

And for the first time Dismas regretted the low light, because from what he could tell, Reynauld was a wet dream. For a second he stared dumbly, undecided as to what he wanted to do. First on his list was kiss those perfect abs – and then he would find himself at a crossroads. Go up that sculpted chest, or down, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared under the rim of Reynauld's pants?

Why was he still wearing those anyway?

Dismas ran appreciative hands over Reynauld's abdomen. Reynaud's skin was slightly tacky from sweat, and when Dismas circled one nipple with his thumb, he sucked in air through his teeth.

Dismas grinned up at him, and with some effort, sat up. He wrapped his arms around Reynauld to keep him from falling back again, and placed wet sloppy kisses all over Reynauld's chest. With Reynauld sitting on Dismas' thighs, Dismas could tell that the other man was just as hard as he was.

Dismas' own briefs were uncomfortably tight, the tip of his cock peeking out. It was time to do away with them, and just as he thought that, Reynauld seemed to read his mind and responded by pushing Dismas into the mattress, his fingers intertwining with Dismas' above the smaller man's head.

In a moment of clarity, and because there was no way he was getting up later, Dismas breathed,

"You got rubbers?"

Reynauld paused for a second to think. "Yeah. Here, somewhere." He reached into his pocket and there was a metallic clang.

"Nope, that's keys. Hang on."

Dismas chuckled, then 'oofed' when, without one hand to support himself, Reynauld's full weight pressed him into the mattress. Reynauld could go a bit easier on his wrist, but then he fully settled between Dismas' legs and hell, Dismas wasn't going to complain ever again.

Reynauld rocked and Dismas bucked up, eager for more contact. They both gasped, and Reynauld dipped his head to kiss Dismas, his tongue slipping between Dismas' lips, who moaned his approval –

Something wasn't right. Reynauld's grip, firm before, turned bruising and suddenly there was cold metal tightening around Dismas' wrist, followed by a ring and click, and before he knew what was going on, Reynauld rolled off.

The soldier was out of the bed and on his feet with the grace of a mountain cat, and when Dismas tried to sit up, he was tugged back down.

He looked at his hand, the gleam of metal encircling his wrist. It took his brain second to process that.

He was handcuffed. To the bed.

"The fuck?" Dismas asked, confused and outraged, and with rising fear. "THE FUCK, REYNAULD!?"

"I'm sorry." Reynauld ran a hand over his face, and backed away from the bed until he could let himself fall into the cushioned seat next to the small desk that was overflowing with hotel pamphlets and tourist attraction coupons.

With his heart in his throat, no clue as to what to do now, and not daring to draw attention to himself, Dismas flinched when a moment later Reynauld announced in a measured flat voice that made Dismas' stomach turn,

"Riverside Police Department. You are under arrest."

Well, at least Reynauld was not some lunatic murderer. But that also meant...

"You're a plant," Dismas blurted out.

"I'm sorry," Reynauld repeated. Dismas observed as Reynauld's thumb traced the shape of his lips, probably unconsciously, and wondered if he could still feel them kiss, if that was a memory he wanted to keep or wipe away.

Reynauld seemed to become aware of his gaze, and his hand dropped. He got up and picked his shirt off the floor, beating it out briefly before putting it back on again. Seconds later the lights went on and Dismas hissed, shielding his eyes with his free arm. By the time his eyes had adjusted, Reynauld had pulled out his phone, but he looked up from it when Dismas cleared his throat.

"If ya'd reach in the right front pocket of my jacket. Could ya – " He didn't finish, not wanting to plead for one tiny favour with the man who had just slapped handcuffs on him in the middle of a make-out session.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

Reynauld found his jacket, picked it up and patted it down. He quickly found the cigs and lighter, and looked back to him. Dismas nodded. It might be his last opportunity for who knew how long, and Reynauld apparently thought so too, because after contemplating it for a moment, he came to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to let a defeated man enjoy one last smoke.

Dismas watched Reynauld open the lid with a flick of his thumb and pull one of the cigarettes out with a fluid motion that spoke of practice. He tapped the package against the table twice to knock the rest of the cigs back, and closed it again. And then he put the one he had just taken between his own lips and lit up, and Dismas was stuck speechless, because he had not had the impression that the soldier was that much of an asshole to torment him like this.

Reynauld took a drag, and just as Dismas was getting ready to introduce the other man to some of his choicest curses, Reynauld exhaled and held out the cigarette. He didn't come close, but had Dismas reach out instead, proper safety etiquette and all that.

Dismas snorted and took the smoke which now held a faint taste of Reynauld. Or perhaps it was just his imagination torturing him. Disinclined to contemplate that particular brand of masochism any further, Dismas let himself fall back onto the mattress.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Watch it curl while everything around him flickered and blurred. 'The smoke,' he thought as Reynauld finally called made his call. His words ran together just like the water stains on the ceiling. Dismas chose not to listen. He probably should, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Reynauld's voice tuned in and out like a radio when a child was fiddling with the volume button, and he let it all pass him by.

Dismas had known. He'd called it out. Something bad was going to happen, because that was the story of his sorry fuckarse life. He tried not to feel anything, to not let himself be affected and he certainly wasn't showing it – but it was the deepest cuts that hurt the least.

He would have preferred to be taken down the old fashioned way. A kick in the guts, a twisted arm and then at least all the pain would have been purely physical. Dismas knew pain. It was as familiar as the bottle and glass he used as a cure.

A moment later there was a knock on the door and when Reynauld opened, in came the couple from two floors below. The gal left after exchanging a few words with Reynauld and her colleague, but the guy came in. He had a camera he aimed at the man who was still in his briefs, cuffed to the bed.

"Smile for your mugshot," the policeman said as Dismas blinked at him from under heavy eyelids and released another plume of smoke.

The flash blinded him and made green spots dance in front of his eyes. Whatever. Wasn't like anything fucking mattered anymore.

Dismas watched camera guy take several shots of the hotel room, but it wasn't long before the two men turned to him and he spotted a set of keys in Reynauld's hand.

"Are you going to resist?" Reynauld asked.

Dismas thought it was a fairly stupid question. He surely wasn't going to say so if the answer was yes. But it was one against two with more police stationed outside the room, and even if he somehow managed to overpower Reynauld and his friend both, something that experience told him was a slim chance at best, what would he do then? There was no other way for him to escape.

"What's the point?" Dismas said with unconcealed bitterness, but he knew that his voice also carried a hint of resignation. He stubbed the cigarette out against the wall. It might be petty of him to vent his anger like that, but at this point, having nothing to lose, he didn't give a damn.

"I'm going to need you to turn over on your stomach," Reynauld said, but it sounded all wrong. It should have been a warm murmur in his ear after a round of foreplay, and Dismas hated how his brain still conjured those images up. Of Reynauld kneeling above him, shirtless, breathless, aroused.

"Kinky," Dismas replied. "Want me to pretend to enjoy it, officer?" he asked, deliberately avoiding Reynauld's name. This way he could at least act as if there was – had been – nothing going on between them. A lie, but not the only one being told tonight. For what he knew, Reynauld might not even be the guy's real name. "Couple 'o minutes ago I might've."

"Just don't give us a reason to fuck up your face any more than it already is," Reynauld's friend drawled in a cheerful tone, which, interestingly enough, earned him a glower from Reynauld.

Dismas did not bother with an answer, and just did as he had been told. At least they cuffed him quick and without causing any pain. But it was anything but comfortable as his joints were twisted just enough to make struggle impossible. Dismas pressed his face into the bedding, closed his eyes and did his best to relax. He could tell that Reynauld knew what he was doing just by how he didn't cut him any slack. If Dismas had wanted to put up any kind of fight, he would have regretted it very quickly.

Once they had him restrained, Reynauld was considerate enough to wrap Dismas' jacket around his shoulders, and to zip it up, which left Dismas naked only from his briefs down.

All done, they led him out.

If asked, Dismas wouldn't be able to recall the whole trip to the police department. He heard Reynauld's friend tell some other officers that they were to 'wrap matters up', which probably meant to take the rest of his things. And then, no matter how hard he tried, he could not recall walking through the hotel, or whether they had taken the stairs or the elevator.

Getting into the police van stood out, mostly because Dismas had wondered whether the hand on his head was there so he wouldn't bang it against the doorframe, as getting in with handcuffs was somewhat awkward, or to do the very thing if he put up a fight.

Reynauld fastened the seatbelt for him, while Dismas stared over his shoulder and off to the side. The proximity allowed him to catch a whiff of whatever perfume Reynauld had used, and he swallowed. The fucker had just arrested him, he shouldn't be wanting to kiss him as much as he did.

And then Reynauld was gone, and a moment later the doors slammed shut. From outside, Dismas could hear the muffled voice of Officer Number Two.

"Everythin' alright?"

"Y're asking him?" Dismas muttered. "Seriously?"

Then the noise of the engine drowned out any answer that Reynauld might have given his friend, and shortly after, they were moving. Dismas wondered how rough of a ride he was going to get, but as it turned out, it wasn't that bad. He could see the inside of the van flood with cold light whenever they passed a street lamp and the sharp edges of the shadows stretched and moved, before everything was plunged back into darkness.

Dismas closed his eyes and let the lights flash over his eyelids before he could be overcome with nausea.

He hated that he had a thing for powerful men in uniforms, enough to make him go completely stupid. Reynauld had been watching him from the moment he had entered Jubert's. Of course had. But out of all the possible reasons, Dismas' lizard brain had not thought of the simplest of them all.

They stopped an indefinite amount of time later, and the sudden silence made Dismas aware of the rush of blood in his ears. A lump was forming in his stomach, and it was a good thing he was already sitting down, because his knees felt very weak all of a sudden.

When Reynauld returned to take him in, he found Dismas with his head between his knees, trying to keep his breathing even.

"M'coming," Dismas muttered, and convulsively tried to swallow past the cottony feeling of his tongue. "Just seasick."

He did not see Reynauld's reaction, but he didn't instantly force Dismas to get up and move, but let him get a few steadying lungfuls of fresh night air first.

When Dismas got off the van he found himself in a stone courtyard, surrounded by arched entryways on one side and Dismas' as of right now least favourite building on the other. It was mostly unlit, but even so it could not be mistaken for anything but the Riverside PD.

Reynauld took Dismas past a guardhouse, through a barrier and into a corridor that had all the allure of a hospital waiting room. From the outside the police station had looked abandoned, but inside there were plenty of people going about their business. Some greeted Reynauld, some cast curious looks at Dismas, but most of them appeared to be too engrossed in their own tasks to really care about one more guy in handcuffs.

"So what happens now?" Dismas asked, as they walked past a set of doors that looked much too solid and high-security for his liking.

Reynauld answered, but his reply was more professional than friendly. "We need to book you in, and then you will be in holding until my superior arrives to question you."

"Sounds like fun," Dismas muttered. "Where do I check in?"

As it turned out, it was in the second room right around the corner. He was photographed, fingerprinted and then a wild-eyed doctor who had a subtle air of crazy about her drew his blood before sending him on his way to have his chest x-rayed.

When everything was done, Dismas received some pocketless, drab grey prison clothes and was finally allowed to dress.

Out of all the things Reynauld could have said to him in parting, it had to be,

"Whatever you do, don't accept any kind of drink."

He didn't explain. He just left Dismas in a cell that was already occupied by three other men. One of them was lying stretched out on one of the two benches, a little pool of drool collecting under his chin. The second one was sitting on the floor. He had a staple of blank papers and was drawing simple, childlike pictures with crayons while the third man was having a very animated conversation with one of the corners. Neither of them noticed the new arrival, which was probably for the best.

Dismas' sole consolation was that Reynauld had taken off the handcuffs, and that within the cell he could move around freely. Not that there was much space to do so. In the end, he made himself as comfortable as possible on the unoccupied bench.

It was chilly in here, and he wished for his coat to wrap around himself, but that had been confiscated, alongside his earring. The adrenaline high of his arrest was beginning to wear off, and the subsequent crash combined with the waiting and the uncertainly, were slowly but surely beginning to take their toll.. In addition to that, Dismas tried not to think about the walls surrounding him, the iron bars and how this might be the only view he was going to get for the rest of his days.

He distracted himself by trying to remember the way back to the exit, but the truth was that he did not even know in which block the prison was located. His only clue was on the far wall in the form of a tiny green plaque with a white arrow underneath, the former of which read forensics.

There was no clock for him to keep track of the passing of time, and little else to do but shift in discomfort and to keep a wary eye on the other prisoners and the occasional police officer walking by.

He never heard or saw the doc who had been present during his examination arrive. When he turned to look out past the bars, she was right there, watching him like he was a curiosity in an expo, or maybe an animal in the zoo. Dismas was so startled by her sudden appearance, that he jerked violently enough to rattle the bench underneath him.

"Did you know that before syringes the medicus would use leeches?" the blonde woman asked him out of the blue. "Their practices were most curious."

"W- what?" Dismas stammered, completely taken off-guard and with his heart still wildly palpitating in his chest.

"Nothing," the doc replied and lifted a silver can. "Coffee?"

Dismas looked from the sleeping man to the other one who now rocked back and forth while the last one raved on about doom, lost eyes and knives in his back, and swallowed.

"Thanks, 'm good," he said, scooting a little bit further back.

The doc made a small disappointed noise in the back of her throat, and abruptly turned and left.

Dismas pulled his knees up against his chest, so he could rest his chin on them.

If the holding cells were meant to intimidate him, it was working. He might have expected to be tied to a chair and have the truth beaten out of him with a crowbar, but not to get drugged, be put in a diaper, and spilling the beans willingly.

He was up in an instant when Reynauld returned. Dismas did not care what was going to happen next, he only knew that if he stayed in here much longer, he would lose his sanity as well.

"Did someone offer you something?" was the first thing out Reynauld's mouth, and he cast a glance full of suspicion in the direction of the door through which the strange woman had disappeared what must have been hours ago. He did not seem fazed by the condition of Dismas' cell mates at all.

"Yeah – ," Dismas said, hurrying to add, "I didn't take it."

"Oh. Good." The relief in Reynauld's voice made Dismas' brows shoot up in alarm. "Ya know, I don't think that's legal." He pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Reynauld replied flatly.

Of course not. Dismas did not argue as he was put back in handcuffs. Reynauld kept a firm hold on his arm, and led them through another maze of corridors. Dismas wondered if this place was specifically designed so as to make any attempts of escape nigh impossible. It was highly probable.

"Is Mallory here yet?" Reynauld asked when they arrived at a door that was being guarded by one bored police officer.

"Yep," came the answer. "She's just finished talking to the other guy. You can go right in once they come out."

Dismas wasn't paying attention, until the doors opened and he came face to face with –

"Louet – " Dismas stared, that one word caught in his throat like a cough, threatening to suffocate him.

Louet's eyes caught Dismas', and immediately flittered away again, and Dismas knew in that moment who had sold him out. He wouldn't have believed it before. What had happened to the promises, to it being them against the rest of the world? Thick as thieves was apparently just a saying, after all.

And now there was nothing; no cocky grin, no nod – the back-stabbing piece of shit didn't even have the gall to look him straight in the eye.

Dismas was still reeling from the encounter when he was led into the room and made to sit down. The table and chairs were bolted to the floor, and Dismas quickly got handcuffed to the former. It wasn't Reynauld who took his place on the other side, but a stern looking woman who introduced herself as Mallory Dumont, deputy director of the RPD. She had to be the Reynauld's superior then.

"I'd rise fer a lady, Dismas said, "but," he shrugged and rattled the metal links.

Mallory did not crack a smile, nor did her lips so much as twitch. Reynauld himself had a chair in the corner of the room, and he was balancing a clipboard on his knees. He appeared to be busy with some paperwork, but if that was the case, there's be no reason for him to do it right here, right now.

Mallory was paid him no heed, and Dismas tried not to let the other man's presence distract him too much. It was easier said than done, especially when Reynauld made a face as if the form had insulted his entire ancestral line, or when tapped the end of his pen against his cheek, lost in thought.

Mallory in contrast, could have been carved out of marble. She was the kind of person who used all the big words in conversation. Not to impress, but because she knew exactly what they meant and when to use them.

Dismas by contrast, could barely string together enough syllables to turn them into something that resembled language. He was cold and hungry, with a headache building behind his eyes and a throat that was sore from thirst. All in all, perfect conditions for the cops to question him.

"Do I get an attorney?" Dismas wanted to know, fully aware that he was grasping at straws.

"Technically, you have the right," Reynauld's boss replied without a hint of concern. She held all the cards, and she knew it. "If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you."

And Dismas knew just how unbiased and committed said person would be. The police knew he could not afford legal counselling. After all, they had been the ones who had taken his possessions.

"Practically," Mallory continued, "You are not a citizen, which means we do not have to prosecute you at all. There are others who would be happy to do so in our stead. For instance, several of the Northern city-states where, I believe, you are better known under the name Valance Paixdecoeur."

Dismas stared ahead blankly. If they knew his name, there was nothing he could do to stop them from unrolling his past.

He could not go to prison in the North. Too many broken ties, too much history. He was sure he would not live long enough to serve his full term. Not that he would want to, in that scenario. Banditry and murder would get him a lifelong sentence, even without the more recent addition of burglary and car theft.

"So as you can see," Mallory resumed, "There is no point in withholding information."

"If I do know something," Dismas said, licking dry lips. His head was spinning too much for him to be clever, so he outright asked, "What do I get out of it?"

"You misunderstand the nature of this relationship," Mallory retorted with glacial composure. "The PD does not need your cooperation. We would merely prefer it."

Dismas had to give it to her; she had more balls than most gang leaders he had known.

"What do you want?" he rasped.

Mallory did not give an indication that she was pleased with how everything had turned out. She was too professional for that. What she wanted, boiled down to Dismas giving them names, dates, any and every kind of dirt he had that would be of help to their investigation. His little side-venue of robbing graves seemed barely a concern to them. No, they had fatter fish to catch. They were going for El Abuelo, and they were doing it via the Wolf.

Dismas had been part of the outfit for a while, and while he actually knew little about the legendary bandit boss whose name was still only spoken in hushed whispers in parts of the North, he still had old contacts, and some of them owed him favours.

"If you cooperate to your fullest extent, and your contribution is found to significantly have helped the outcome of the investigation, we would be willing to advocate for a lighter sentence," Mallory added, as if in afterthought.

Ah. First the crop, then the carrot.

"And who's to decide that?" Dismas wanted to know, even though he had his suspicions.

"Us," Mallory replied and did not blink when Dismas huffed at the blatant unfairness of it all. "Or more specifically, the senior officer in charge of the operation."

The saddest part was that it was still the best deal he was going to get. Dismas was no rat, but what good was there for him in protecting people who would not return the favour? It seemed these days he only had false friends who either already had or who without a second thought would sell him out for a chance at their own freedom.

Dismas nodded, not trusting his voice, silently agreeing to cooperate.

"Excellent. Mallory reached into her bag and took out a folder, putting its contents in front of Dismas.

Dismas looked at the stack of papers that were undoubtedly full of legal bullshit, and with a sigh, he grabbed the pen and drew the first one closer.

"You should read this before you sign," Reynauld chimed in from the back. He had barely said anything during this entire time, and now his comment had Dismas grinding his teeth together.

This was the worst possible time to make this confession, but, "I can't – "

"You can't read," Mallory stated coolly.

"I can read," Dismas snarled, instantly furious they would assume he was just one more dumb criminal ne'er-do-well from the North – even though the parts about crime and the North were actually true. "I just can't – " He couldn't make out the mouse shit letters when they were so tiny that the words were running together in blurry lines.

Reynauld rose, carried his chair over to the side of the table and took the papers out of Dismas' hands before he could crumple them in his frustration.. Reynauld cleared his throat and began to read slowly, tracing the text with his index finger to indicate where he was.

The last thing Dismas wanted to feel was grateful. He wondered if he should ask him to print out the stupid forms in a larger font size. That would be the smart thing to do. Refuse to sign anything he could not verify reading for himself. But Dismas had never been the smartest. He wanted to believe the man who was so good at playing the good cop, who without being asked explained what most of the legal stuff actually meant, and who managed not to sound condescending to boot.

And above everything else, Dismas was tired.. Tired of hiding from the gangs, tired of running from cops and former friends alike. At least now he had certainty. As long as he stayed here, in Velstaad, he had a chance at life. At escape.

Audrey had not taken to hiring him to jiggle one security system or another for nothing. He wasn't possessed of a magic touch like she claimed, but repairing vehicles was not the only skill he had.

It would take time and a lot of planning, but for now, it would do.

Dismas scrawled his name wherever Reynauld pointed. When they were dine, he collected the stack of papers, and handed them to Mallory.

She rose without another glance at the prisoner, put the documents in a folder, and nodded. "Well done, Maurouard. He is all yours."

"E – excuse me?" Reynauld stammered.

Dismas nodded to show he agreed with the cop. The fuck?

"I was under the impression this was your case?" Mallory said with raised brows. "Assigned to you by the chief?"

Oh.

"Oh." Reynauld said sheepishly and Dismas just knew they had both thought the exactly same thing. "Yes."

"Is there a problem?" Mallory enquired, her bright eyes drilling a hole right through both men.

"None," Reynauld replied, not very convincingly.

But Mallory either did not notice, or did not care, because she left shortly after, leaving Reynauld to regain his composure and Dismas to ponder the meaning of that brief exchange. It looked like he would have to work for and with Reynauld. Their eyes met.

Dismas was the first to look away. He snorted. They'd both believed that Miss Mallory was implying –

"What?" Reynauld's question interrupted Dismas' train of thought.

"Just wonderin'," Dismas said, "What bein' a pig's like."

"It's diverse, and I'm not just referring to work hours," Reynauld replied, deadpan.

Dismas barked out a surprised laugh, but the amusement lasted only a moment. "Wish I could hate you," he muttered.

Dismas could hear Reynauld exclaim noisily.

"Same."

AN: I’m back from a place terrifyingly devoid of the internet, and while I managed to update on AO3, I had no suck luck trying the same here. But better late than never I suppose, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

#blu's corner #writing #darkest dungeon #dismas #reynauld #Reymas #fanfiction

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