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easily-infatuated23 · 4 years ago

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Over Protective

Request: Could do image were she dating Dustin in secret and her sibling is Steve Harrington. She sneaks out to see Dustin and then she come back to see Steve sitting on her bed then Steve spots a few hickeys on her neck and he asks her about and she denies it. Then Steve calls robin because he freaking out. He invite her over and Dustin for like a dinner then he see them on Dustin’s neck. Then start being like an over protective brother and talking to them about it. ~anonymous

a/n: thank you so much for your request anon! it’s my first request so i hope you enjoy! i also aged up Dustin to be 16 bc i felt weird writing this with him being like 13. enjoy!

pairing: Dustin Henderson x Harrington!Reader x Steve Harrington

word count: 1.9k

summary: Steve is overly protective of his little sister and when he sees a hickey on her, he’s furious

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Y/N hated sneaking around. When she and Dustin started dating, Dustin had suggested they keep it a secret. It’s not that he was embarrassed or wanted to hide it but they didn’t want their friends to tease them (especially Max and Lucas), but also because of Y/N’s brother. Being Steve Harrington’s younger sister meant that he was super over protective, especially when it came to dating. Steve knew what guys could be like so he made sure that he kept boys away from her. “I’m sixteen now Stevie” she began. “I am old enough to start dating. Besides, you didn’t act like this when Mike and Eleven got together” she finished, crossing her arms angrily. “Thats different!” Steve replied. “You are my baby sister and I don’t want anybody to…corrupt you!” Y/N laughed. “Corrupt me?! You are worse than dad!” “No boys until you’re thirty, and thats final!” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. She rolled her eyes and stomped up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door after her. No matter how annoyed she was, even an argument with her brother was not going to ruin this day for her. It was her and Dustin’s two month anniversary. Although it wasn’t a super long time to be with someone, it was still a big deal for her because it was her first relationship.

“Hey I procrastinated doing my English essay for Mr. Hartman so I’m gonna be in my room trying to do it so don’t bother me” Y/N called down the stairs to her brother. “Yup got it” Steve replied, not looking up from the TV. Brilliant. With Steve distracted and her alibi set, she could sneak out to go meet Dustin. She ran back up to her room and changed into her favorite pair of jeans, t-shirt and a red sweater, and sneakers. She carefully opened her window and climbed out, standing on the sloped roof beneath her. She propped the window open with her Science textbook and climbed down. She then hopped on her bike and rode to Dustin’s house. When she was half way there she realized she had forgotten to lock her door. “No matter,” she thought. “Steve is so engrossed in his TV show he won’t check on me for at least four hours”.

Once she arrived, she hopped of her bike and climbed up to Dustin’s window. She knocked on it lightly. Moments later, the curly haired boy appeared at the window, smiling. He opened the window for her and helped her climb in. Dustin turned on the radio and the two began laughing and talking, simply enjoying each other’s company. After a while, the two began to get a bit hot and heavy and started making out. They hadn’t gone much further than this and Dustin respected her decision to wait. Besides, he was enjoying being with a girl as beautiful, smart, and funny as Y/N Harrington. “You are incredible, you know that?” he said to her as they pulled away. She smiled and shook her head. “How did I get so lucky?” The two smiled at each other for another few moments before Dustin’s face dropped. “Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit I’m sorry” he said, panic filling his voice. “What? What is is?” Y/N said, sitting up. “I left a pretty obvious mark on your neck. I swear I didn’t mean to” he said. She stood up and went over to a mirror on the other side of his room. Sure enough, a purple mark was appearing on her neck. She pulled her shirt down and counted two more, each more purple than the last. “Shit” she said. “I can hide the ones on my chest but this guy,” she said pointing to the love bite her neck, “no way”.

She turned to face the boy and started to laugh a bit. “Why are you laughing?! If Steve sees it he’ll kill you! Oh my god what if he finds out it was me?” he said, even more panicked than before. “He probably will babe, but, you aren’t exactly mark free either”. He went pale and joined her at the mirror, examining his neck. “I’ll just wear a turtle neck tomorrow or cover it with makeup. It’ll be fine” She looked at her watch. 8 o’clock. Damn. “Hey I gotta get home. I only give Steve like a four hour window of focus on that TV before he comes to check on me. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow” Dustin said, giving her a hug and kissing her sweetly. Little did Y/N know, Steves focus had worn off much sooner than she had anticipated.

At 7:30, Steve got bored of whatever dumb program had started, and decided to go check on his sister. She usually talked to herself when she did homework and it had been unusually quiet in her room. He walked up the stairs and knocked on her door. There was no reply. He knocked again. “Hey Y/N, you alright in there?”. He was puzzled. He opened her door and was shocked to find her room empty. “Are you trying to play a prank on me? Are you gonna jump out of the closet or something?” Still no response. Then he spotted it. The textbook in the window. A classic Harrington move. Steve couldn’t believe it. His little sister had really snuck out and he hadn’t noticed! He decided he would sit on her bed and wait for her to sneak back in. He waited about thirty minutes before he heard the breathless girl climbing up the side of the house.

When she reached the window and opened it, her heart dropped into her stomach. “What do you think you are doing?” Steve said, pulling his little sister back into her room. “What are you doing in my room?” she retorted. “My question first” he said. Thinking on her toes, Y/N came up with a lie to explain her disappearance. “I wanted to hang out with Max and Elle without you breathing down my neck okay!” she said. She suddenly remembered that her hickey was visible above her sweater and covered her neck with her hand as casually as possible. “Hey, hey what are you hiding?” He moved her hand and felt his face go red. “What is that?!” he boomed. She pushed him away, trying to come up with another lie. “Get off! It’s just a curling iron burn! The girls were curling their hair and when I went to try I burned myself!” That made sense right? Steve squinted at her suspiciously. He knew a hickey when he saw one. “I am gonna find out who did this and I’m gonna kill them” Steve said. “I told you it’s a burn! Now get out of my room!” She yelled, pushing her older brother out of the door. “Just tell me his name!” Steve shouted. She slammed the door in his face. Steve was fuming. They had the boyfriends argument before but this was a new level. Steve did the only thing he could think of. He called his best friend Robin.

“Hey Popeye” Robin said. “Whats going-” “No time Robin, we have an issue” Steve interrupted. “What is it Harrington?” she said. “I caught Y/N sneaking back into her room through a window and she had a hickey! What am I going to do?! I need your help to figure out who the hell did this to my baby sister!” There was a moment of silence and then laughter from Robin. “First of all, relax. It’s just a hickey. You were probably like ten when you had your first one so get some perspective” “I was twelve” he said. “Don’t interrupt me” she continued. “Secondly, why do you care? She’s sixteen now. You have to loosen up.” Steve sighed. “I guess you’re right”. “Also I know who she’s dating”. “What?!” Steve shouted. “Tell me now!” “Fine fine don’t get your panties in a twist” Robin said. “But you have to promise not to do anything drastic.” “Fine fine I promise just tell me”. He said. “Henderson” she said. Steve was silent. Henderson?! Of all people she chose Henderson! I guess it wasn’t as bad as he had expected, after all, he liked Dustin. “What are you gonna do Steve? I can hear your brain exploding” she said. She was met with more silence. “Just invite him over and talk to him or something. Just don’t make it weird.” “Right yeah thanks Robin. I’ll see you tomorrow” he said, hanging up the phone. Thats what he would do. He would invite Dustin over tomorrow and interrogate him.

The next day he called the Henderson house. “Hey Dustin it’s Steve” “Oh uh hey Steve, what’s up?” Dustin’s voice was squeaky. Got him. “I need your help with something and I need you to come over.” “Oh yeah uh sure I’ll see you in a few hours and-” “No,” Steve interrupted. “I need your help now, I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” “Okay”. Dustin’s voice was quiet and his nervousness could be felt through the phone. When Dustin finally got to the house, Steve met him at the door. “Henderson, I’m so glad you could come over” Steve said coldly. Dustin didn’t speak as he entered the house. Steve glared at him. “So what did you need my help with?” Dustin asked cautiously. “I need help understanding what the hell you are doing with my sister.” Steve said. His arms were crossed and he stood blocking the door, blocking any hope of escape for Dustin. “Hey Stevie who’s at the door?” Y/N asked, having heard the knock from her room. “Oh hey Dustin what’s up?” she said casually. “Oh no no you aren’t fooling me” Steve said. “I wanna know what’s going on here” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Did you call Robin last night? Damn I knew I shouldn’t have told her.” She finished walking down the stairs and stepped beside Dustin, clasping his hand in hers. “No no no, none of that” Steve said, trying to break them apart. “Steve relax seriously, you are way too worked up about this” Y/N said. Steve sighed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt” he said. She let go of Dustin’s hand and put her hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I know that but this whole over protective brother act is suffocating”. Steve nodded. “If it helps, I have no intention of breaking up with Y/N and honestly, the past two months have been some of the happiest months of my life” Dustin added. Steve looked up at him suddenly. “TWO MONTHS??” he yelled. He lunged at Dustin, Y/N stepping between them before they collided.“Woah Stevie, chill take a deep breath”. She pushed him back.

“Okay okay I can deal with this, this is fine” Steve muttered under his breath. “But, we need to make some ground rules. No closed doors and no sneaking anybody in anywhere. You come in through the front door and make your presence known!” Steve said, pointing towards the door. The two teens nodded. “Okay…” Steve ran his hand through his hair. “I think I can get behind this but I’m gonna need some time to process.” He lowered himself down onto the couch. Y/N and Dustin looked at each other with smirking expressions. “Okay Steve…you just take your time. We’ll just be upstairs.” Y/N said, slowly leading Dustin upstairs. “Yeah…okay…but I want that door open!” He yelled after them. The two teens laughed and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. Steve shook his head. “Crazy kids” he said, chuckling a bit as he realized he was glad that if his sister had to date anyone, it would be Dustin Henderson.

#dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson x harrington!reader #steve harrington #stranger things #dustin henderson imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington brother #dustin henderson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #robin buckley #scoops troop

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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In the Spotlight (S.R)

Type: One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 5050

Summary: The one where Tony pushes Steve into a photoshoot, rubbing his hands and smirking at such action being almost a practical joke; a great way to make Cap squirm for a good cause.

Well, the joke just might turn out to be on him.

Warnings: mention of child cancer patients and disabled kids, Tony being a bit of an ass, attempt at humour, some language

A/N: The idea is a courtesy from a wonderful person, chase-your-dreams-away who always saw Chris’ FILA 2015 photoshoot as Steve showing he actually can pose. Thank you, sweet! This one’s for you!

(gif not mine)

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“Ah, Cap! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

Tony’s voice reached Steve’s ears just as he entered the kitchen after his morning run and shower, his heart skipping a beat, his whole body instantly on alert; he wanted nothing but to spin on his heels and walk right back to where he came from.

It wasn’t that he dreaded to hear there was a mission; that would be fairly alright even if it meant that the world was once again a terrible place with horrible people who needed to be stopped in it. No, Steve’s fright was caused by something else entirely.

You see, living in the Avengers Tower meant spending extended periods of time in Tony Stark’s company. Spending extended periods of time in Tony’s company meant that one would learn how to recognize certain situations; Steve could easily tell when the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist had pulled an all-nighter in his lab, when he was in a long-term fight with Pepper, when he was annoyed, when he was delighted.

And this right here, the ‘Just the guy I wanted to see!’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully excited, beaming in a manner that told Steve that his friend was about to revel in the discomfort he was about to cause to him.

God help him.

Steve forced himself to continue walking, a tight mile on his lips.

“Morning to you too, Tony. What’s the matter?”

The man behind the legendary Ironman suit blatantly wiggled a finger at Steve, smirking; a clear sign that he already had his coffee, possibly with two shots of espresso.

“Morning. Glad you asked. You’re free in the afternoon, right?—Yeah, I already checked the agenda you keep with Jarvis-“ Make that three shots of espresso. Also, incredibly RUDE. But guess that what one gets when living in a building ran by an artificial intelligence. “-so I set up an appointment like four weeks ago-“

Steve shook his head, raising his hand in attempt to stop the rapid fire of words coming out of Tony’s mouth.

“Tony, hold on a second-“

“What?” the billionaire snapped, frowning. He hated being interrupted.

“First of all, I don’t have to share all my plans with Jarvis-“

“But you do. Sorry to break it to you, but you have no social life to keep under wraps.” Ruder. “…or do you have a hot date today?”

Steve was so embarrassed and so frustrated with the man that he was tempted to say yes just because. To make a point. But from the two men in the room, he was the less petty one, so he told him the truth.

“Well, no-“

“See? No problem here-“

“Yes there is!” Steve protested, crossing his arms on his chest as anger started to build there. “I could have had plans! You need to consult things with me! It’s about principle!”

Tony eyed Steve, unimpressed, his right brow arched. “Really? Principle? We’re gonna go there? I don’t think so. Aren’t you curious what the appointment is about?”

Steve sighed exasperatedly, so not done with the conversation Tony so carelessly dismissed, but he in fact was curious, wanting to be prepared for whatever insanity the man came up with.

Tony planning stuff usually equalled Pepper planning stuff, or both of them together, except Pepper had a habit of asking first before confirming the plans and setting appointments. Also, plans by Pepper usually equalled PR. Steve wasn’t too fond of PR stuff, genuinely hating shaking hands with politicians with smiles as fake as their election slogans.

“What’s the appointment about, Tony?” Steve asked to humour his not-exactly-a-friend-at-the-moment.

Tony smirked once again, a hint of mischief flashing in his dark irises.

“Feeling pretty today, Rogers?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, his muscles tensing; that sounded even worse than he had imagined.

“Huh?”

“Cause you’re gonna promote a new sports collection. You better start posing in front of the mirror to get your head in the game,” he mocked lightly, just as Steve predicted, basking in the horror that overtook Steve’s very being along with utter disbelief.

“What? Why?”

Steve did not enjoy being photographed. It usually involved ‘striking a pose’ or whatever the kids called it these days and once again, strained insincere smiles. Yeah, he was more than alright to take a picture with a fan if they were a kid who looked up to him. But other than that? Ugh.

“Come on! Lighten up, Rogers! It’s for charity!” Tony called out, stepping closer to pat Steve’s bicep. “Uh-huh, firm, good.”

Please let me leave, Steve begged the heavens, unsure if Tony was actually fawning over his muscles – serum-induced and supported by hard work, thank you very much – or if he was mocking Steve again.

“But seriously, it’s for charity that deals with enabling the disabled kids to do sports, any kind that’s possible with their impairment really. From some sort of a football to marathons or archery or whatever. It’s for a good thing.”

Steve felt the tension in his shoulders partly subdue, relaxing a bit. For one, that did sound like a good cause and for two, there was a barely noticeable change in Tony’s voice, just a little waver in his tone, giving away that for all the smirking and nudging and shit-talking, the genius cared for people and had a heart. Having a heart - Tony Stark’s most heavily guarded secret.

Steve sighed, his previously lost appetite returning.

“Alright, Tony. Where, when and what do I need to do?”

The other man patted his bicep again, this time in a truly friendly manner and grinned. “I’ll let Jarvis give you the details. You just try not to screw it up. Seriously, train how to smile in front of a mirror or something. Some poses, whatever. The photographer looks pretty good – not just professionally, if you know what I mean-“

Steve couldn’t help the eyeroll at the remark, one that was followed by Tony’s scandalized insulted gasp as he slowly made his leave, gesturing.

“-so I guess you don’t have to worry… much. Not sure if there will be trunks involved. Or a speedo. So, you know, keep it in your pants and don’t look anywhere I wouldn’t… which isn’t leaving much-“

“Bye, Tony,” Steve called after him, resisting the urge to childishly cover his ears just so he wouldn’t have to listen to the dirty teasing.

“What, it’s a valid concern we don’t want a lawsuit form her--“

“Go before I rattle you out to Pepper,” Steve grunted and at that, the genius grimaced and swiftly disappeared in the doorway.

Steve once again sighed and decided that he might need a bit more carbs in his breakfast than originally planned just so he survived today.

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You weren’t kidding anyone – you were a teeny tiny bit nervous. Your career had been rather colourful, you dipped your fingers in many kinds of photography and you still enjoyed the diversity, the various pictures of beauty – and there was a lot of beauty in the world to be captured – still calling out to you.

You had met famous people before too and you always managed… but Captain America was a whole new level of a challenge. You were feeling equal parts worried and damn lucky for being picked for the job; a job you wouldn’t get a penny for. Shooting a thing like this for charity with a name as great as Steve Rogers, that wasn’t about money – not quick one at least. It was about prestige.

On the other hand, you would get almost any props you’d think of, within reason, of course – just saying a word was enough. And you had a few, images already painted in your head as you read on Steven Grant Rogers a bit more, got a good look on pictures online, and obviously, saw the collection.

Thinking about it, maybe it was him who should be scared, because excitement was the leading emotion of yours for while now.

You saw him arrive, the chatter about it instantly spreading like fire. And honestly? He did look a bit spooked, so you took the liberty to knock on the room he was provided with, the stylists already in.

“Come in!” sounded from the inside and you took a deep breath, poking your head in – and deciding that entering fully was more polite since you were about to introduce yourself.

“Good afternoon,” you greeted him, only a showing a smidge of nerves on the outside, you hoped.

As you offered your name, the blond man – built like a tank, a very handsome tank, with the sweetest inviting smile and bright eyes – rose from his seat immediately, holding out a hand to shake, introducing himself as well as if it was necessary. It was a nice sentiment, however.

“Please, call me Steve. Something tells me that formalities would only get in the way,” he said with a slight curve to his lips and you felt yourself relax right away. He’d be excellent to work with. Now you really couldn’t wait.

“Then you must call me by my name too. Thank you for suggesting it,” you accepted delightfully, eyeing the pair of stylists you had met before on similar projects; this kind of business was all about knowing the right people. You nodded at them, grinning. “Now, Steve, I have a very important mission for you.”

The captain’s eyebrows jumped at your wording – and at your teasing. You scolded yourself lightly for your choice of words, unwittingly nudging him towards the wrong headspace. You didn’t need a soldier now, quite the opposite.

“Oh?”

“I need you to tell these two lovely people what amount of make-up and what hairstyle you’re comfortable with,” you explained, earning a slightly confused tilt of Steve’s head. “Sure, I have a certain visual in my head, I’m sure they have too.” You exchanged a knowing look with them. “But most of all I need you to feel good. If you’re pressured into something you hate, we can’t work any magic there.”

Steve nodded in understanding, stiffly, and you had a hunch that he might have been pressured into this whole thing.

“But please don’t leave on us now,” you added quickly and he huffed a short laugh, bittersweet, letting you know that you were correct in your assumption.

“I won’t leave. But thank you for the tip.”

Gosh, he was so polite and had a subtle air of greatness around him (also known as BD energy these days), you could bask in his presence forever – but you had to work.

“All in days’ work. I’ll see you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Your heart skipped an excited beat when a twinkle appeared in his brilliant blue irises and you were done for.

You really hoped your hands wouldn’t shake; you’d hate for the pictures to be blurry.

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Once you were in your own kingdom of wonders, all nerves vanished, only child-like giddiness remaining. However, same couldn’t be said about Steve; he entered the space, fidgeting – not too obviously, but visibly enough – eyes flickering all over the room as if he just arrived to a Wonderland indeed.

If you were being honest, such a hunk of a man appearing so endearingly lost… he was kinda adorable.

You felt the corners of your lips automatically rise at your silly thoughts and at the image of him. Besides adorable, he sure looked hot in the white jacket. Who knew sportwear could look so alluring?

“Looking good here, Steve,” you called out as he approached and upon meeting your eyes, he attempted a smile too – little too apprehensive on the edges for you to believe it was honesty and not sheer professional courtesy. “Clothes feel good?”

You could see his expression melt into pure puzzlement at such question, clearly not having expected it.

“Oh… uhm, yes. Thank you.”

“I meant what I said. I need you to be comfortable, Steve,” you reminded him softly, earning a rather frantic nod.

“I… am.”

You could practically hear the unspoken ‘sort of’. Well, it was a work in progress.

“Little steps. Alright, so… I’m gonna be talking a lot. Cut me off whenever I’ll be getting on your nerves too much, okay? We’ll start with this set-up, with this background, obviously. I need to you to just walk to the centre- good, now turn your head to the left—a bit more… perfect.” Not.

Uh-huh. Probably his first time; you should have figured, though a heads-up would be nice. You should have asked dammit. You chewed on your lower lip, gears in your head spinning wildly as you tried to assess him.

Mm.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

His head snapped back to you in surprise and you couldn’t but chuckle, mock-frowning at him. He realized his mistake and quickly looked away, returning to the pose you had attempted to set him into before – his beautiful profile now dusted with pink.

“The colour?” you encouraged him and started taking photos even if you knew you wouldn’t use them, not with his shoulders so stiff and his expression slightly twisted in confusion still – even if he apparently tried to look natural.

“Uhm, blue.”

His face relaxed a fraction and you smiled to yourself.

“More sky-blue or royal blue or something entirely else?” you continued, not at all surprised when a second later you learned that it was sky-blue.

You thought it might be because of his eyes and you wondered; perhaps his eyes were the only thing that hadn’t changed during the serum transformation. His eyes were last straw to grasp at when his whole body suddenly didn’t feel like his.

Or maybe he was moonlighting as an artist, appreciating all kinds of beauty like you did and knew his stuff.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen colour so well before his transformation and fell in love with the particular shade upon seeing the sky.

“Mm… ever had the time to appreciate the sight of the ocean? Breath-taking blue on the surface, matching the sky, reflecting the sunrays so sharp that it would make one squint—but you don’t, you can’t. Because damn, it’s so beautiful and you can feel the breeze in your hair, almost flowing between your fingers and you just have to keep your eyes open to commit to memory what it looks like, how it feels, the sand between your toes, the sun warm on your skin…”

You babbled on, your heart fluttering at how damn magnificent Steve looked now, gradually relaxing his posture, his eyes softening, the corners of his mouth subtly raised in a smile, not an artificial one, just a soft curve to his lips as he lost himself in a pleasant memory – or a daydream. You had to remind yourself to press the shutter release; it would be too easy to simply watch the man in front of you coming out of his shell, releasing his light and grace for everyone to see.

“Absolutely wonderful, Steve, thank you. Shall we move on?” you praised him softly and his absurdly long lashes fluttered as if he indeed woke up from a dream. He appeared to be a little lost again, but the smile remained on his lips.

“Of course. Where do you want me, ma’am-- I mean-“

“Oh hush!” you interrupted him rudely with a grin. He was too precious for words, resembling a puppy, all soft and loveable and yet he was somehow so respectable; you’d have to watch yourself just so you wouldn’t fall in love with him in the short time you were given together. “No ma’am, we’ve been over this. Now…”

You instructed him to walk to the wall of a ‘beach house’, half of the background imitating the very beach you had described; you offered him a different jacket and a cap to hold in his hands, the item serving more than one purpose; one was the campaign, the other was to give him something to do with his hands.

For this picture, you had him looking at you, which made you fidget self-consciously for a change; this time, the story you came up with was to put both of you at ease.

At this point, Steve was an open book to you – or, well, open enough. You had done your reading on him a bit, sure, but now you truly started to see his personality – one of your favourite parts of doing photography coming into play.

“Alright. Posture is great. Now, do you often meet kids?”

Steve wasn’t as surprised at the question anymore, replying calmly, but almost without a thought.

“Yeah. We, uh, we sometimes go to the hospitals to make the patients’ day a bit better? It’s such a small thing to do, I know, for an oncological kid, but they are always delighted. And they are so brave, I feel like a—well, like a sucker compared to them.”

“Weren’t you sickly as a kid?” you questioned lowly and Steve’s gaze dropped as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his expression falling.

“Done your reading, huh?”

“The wonders of 21st century and our educational system. But I’m just bringing it up to make a point. I think that you can see them and that’s why they like you visiting so much. Something tells me that you can truly feel what they feel and they sense it – kids can be ridiculously intuitive. Maybe you share, I don’t know of course, but I think that somehow they just know and they see a fellow warrior who beat all the illnesses too. And they look up to you, because you give them hope. And not just sick kids. I bet you met a few kids claiming you’re their favourite superhero just because you have a frisbee.”

He chuckled at that and nodded, but you could see that what you had said before the funny bit touched him and it had been that part that had the desired effect – to pull him back where you wanted him, relaxed and positive.

“Okay, that’s fair.”

“You’re not everyone’s hero for nothing, Steve, you’ve done some pretty heroic stuff to begin with. But I think it’s what behind the shield that some people find even more inspiring. Be proud of that too.”

The perfect shot was taken and you couldn’t but recall the quote I once saw a man so beautiful I started crying, because yeah, you could weep now. You quickly stood up and took few more pictures, because it was too good of an opportunity to pass up on.

“And look at you, turning into a model so easily when it comes to helping people, again,” you teased him lightly while being nothing but honest.

As at ease as he appeared now, you’d think he was doing this on a regular basis. As if you hadn’t been trying to coax out his true self out for everyone to see in a simple photo just a few minutes ago.

His hands found their way into the pockets of temporarily his jacket, gaze falling to the floor before his eyes locked onto yours, grateful and gentle.

“I’m pretty sure that’s all you. Thank you for being so patient with me. I thought this would remind me of the old days when I-” He hesitated, blue eyes lightly misted with doubt, so you beckoned for him to continue to speak freely. You’d got into some pretty deep stuff yourself just a moment ago after all. “-when I was a lab experiment to show off.”

You nodded in understanding, even if you couldn’t imagine what was it like; then again, in your early days, you had met enough parents who came to your atelier to show off their trophy children, so this wasn’t exactly a foreign concept.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sure that however you hated doing it, you were giving people hope back then too. And it’s not right to reduce person to a symbol, but symbols were and are important. As long as there are people who are able to see beyond the simplification, then I think it’s worth it. Then again, I never was anyone’s dancing monkey, so…” you shrugged, internally cringing at being such a blabbermouth, afraid that you came too far, put Steve off and that he would withdraw back to his shell.

But he didn’t. He gifted you a brilliant smile, one reaching his eyes.

“And all this?” you hummed, vaguely gesturing around, hoping he’d catch on. “I’m glad if you like the way I work, but the pictures? That’s not me, Steve, that’s you. And all I hope for is to show people a little bit more of you, throwing away the shield and letting them see that Steve Rogers is just as radiant.”

The intensity of his gaze now was enough to make your heart stop beating, his expression suddenly unreadable and you quickly covered your mouth, an apology already spilling from your lips.

“I’m so sorry if this made you uncomfortable and I turned into one of the fawning fangirls, that wasn’t my intention. You have to stop me when I get too much-“

“You’re didn’t and you don’t,” he smiled kindly and shook his head, appearing genuine. “I just never met anyone like you. And I mean that in the good way, just to be clear.”

You felt your face burn; because of your TMI talk and his compliment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered out, causing his smile to turn radiant indeed.

He kept watching you, silent, eyes roaming your face, irises blue and intense—when had he got so close? Or did you walk to him? He was positively prettier upon closer inspection, all sharp edges to his jaw, lips calling out with how damn soft they would be, not to even mention his hair, and oh, was that a drop of green in his eyes? Oh wow, you could drown in that single drop, surrounded by the most enticing shade of blue and--- you closed your eyes and cleared your throat, trying your best to ignore the tingle in your fingertips and in your gut, pleasant warmth in your core-

“We, uhm, we should probably go back to work,” you whispered, licking your lips as you once again glanced at his and you swiftly spun on your heels, desperately trying to remember what shots you wanted to take next and if it was time for him to change already- oh god, you couldn’t possibly handle the thought of him losing clothes…

His expression dimmed a fraction, an epitome of slipping back into politeness. “Of course. Tell me how you need me… ma’am,” he teased, subtle quirk to his lips and you felt your cheeks burn hotter— but your breathing got easier as he was letting you know that you were still alright.

You had a half-mind to call him a soldier in the same manner, but you didn’t want him to slip into that persona.

“Oh, you have no idea what you signed up for, Steven.”

He chuckled, but followed you as you walked to the next scenery.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“What the hell, Rogers?!”

Why?

And this right here, the ‘What the hell, Rogers?’, that meant nothing good – certainly not for the guy in question. Tony seemed awfully exasperated and perplexed at some of Steve’s past actions probably, and that usually meant a lot of uncomfortable questions coming his way.

God help him.

Yet, he sighed and walked in, preferring to face his fate right away and go about his day as soon as possible.

“What did I do?”

“Jarvis, if you could, please,” Tony requested with a solemn expression, one of his thin holographic devices lighting up on the counter and instantly projecting several floating images as Steve walked closer.

Steve’s lips parted in surprise, shocked ‘oh’ escaping them as his heart was sent into frenzy.

Twenty images in total, photos of a blond man of Steve’s own body-built, clad in sportswear posing in every single one of them. His face was familiar too and yet somehow foreign; surely these couldn’t be real. There was no way Steve looked so confident and almost proud in some pictures, but mainly, appearing so comfortable in his skin.

Steve’s mind raced as he tried to associate the model with his own person and yet—he couldn’t but feel rather satisfied. Because this was most definitely him. And the photos were… well, not bad at all. Simultaneously, while his chest puffed with pride he desperately attempted not to let go into his head, he remembered precisely how these photos came to existence and who should totally take the credit here.

“That’s all you gonna say?! Oh?” Tony demanded, gesturing around the holograms as if these were corpus delicti of a serious offence and Steve was once again reminded of what Tony Stark was not; a patient man.

Steve felt a smile creep onto his lips as he shrugged.

“Oh, he says. You’re asking me what did you do?! THIS! If I knew you were a damn runaway model, I would have expected less fun than I did when imaging seeing you squirm! Look at this! These are way too good!”

Steve couldn’t disagree, mildly amused at Tony’s antics. In fact, he really was ridiculously content with the results of something he had dreaded and couldn’t have even hoped to turn out like this.

“…is that a bad thing?” he couldn’t but mock, earning an exasperated huff… and a smirk.

“Well… not, I guess. My little black heart is just… disappointed.”

Ah, yes. The heavily guarded secret – Tony Stark did have a heart and contrary to popular opinion, it was not little or black.

“No, it’s not.”

“Hush!” Tony shushed him, a twinkle appearing in his eye, amusement mixing with satisfaction. “But seriously. What the hell? Since when do you… pose? Like this? Like… wow.”

“Careful there, Stark, you’ll make him blush,” Natasha hummed as she entered the communal kitchen, checking out the flowing pictures with interest and a curve to her lips. “These are pretty great. You did well, Rogers.”

And all of sudden, Steve couldn’t handle the praise anymore; it had been fun with Tony, but now when Natasha joined in, swiftly followed by a wolf-whistle from Sam at her heels… it felt wrong to brag about this, it wasn’t fair – he wasn’t the one who deserved to be given the majority of the merit.

“It’s… it wasn’t me, really…“ he admitted sheepishly.

And it wasn’t. It was all you.

Looking at the photos, he could tell what you were talking about when you pressed the shutter release for every single one of them. Painting the vivid image of the ocean just with your words. Calling him a hero in a way no one ever had. Pleading him to be proud of what he had accomplished. Making him feel those things, causing him to gradually gain confidence, feeling good in his own skin even when being at the centre of attention, encouraging him to suggest a pose on his own. Hell, Steve might go as far as to say that he had been having fun.

But it was all you.

“Looks a lot like you, man,” Sam chuckled and Steve would have shot him an annoyed glare hadn’t he been so embarrassed and self-conscious to admit who was to blame for the pictures turning out so great.

Because… yeah, Steve wasn’t vain or tried not to be, but these were pretty swell. You were a magician, you had to be. And he had fallen straight into the trap of your charms.

“Har har… the photographer was amazing. She made me feel-” He didn’t even know how to describe it without making himself look like a complete fool… for you. “-great. She was really supportive the whole time, sometimes even making me forget she was taking shots.”

“Alert!” Tony cried out all of sudden, nearly causing Steve to jump out of his skin. “I sense romance! How’s Cap heart, Jarvis? Has the security been breached? Should we run some scans-”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve huffed in irritation, attempting to hide how precisely the billionaire hit the nail on its head.

“Awww, now he is blushing,” Natasha teased and Steve felt the heat in his cheeks burn.

“Well, luckily for him, there was a business card along with the printed photos that arrived this morning.”

Steve’s head immediately snapped Tony’s direction, curious and excited. You left a business card? That was—it probably didn’t mean anything along the lines he wished, but still!

The billionaire held out the simple creamy-coloured item between two fingers, but quickly snatched it away when Steve reached for it. Steve shot him a murderous glare. Dammit man-child!

“Full story or you’re not getting any, pun intended.”

“Oh, go to hell, Stark-”

“Come on, Stark. We all know he has some work ethics unlike you. Let him start a thing before you interrogate him. Plus, if he’s got a phone number from a hot girl for the free work he did, good for him. Give him the card,” Natasha supported the poor blond and Tony rolled his eyes before shooting the Widow a look of betrayal. Sam just chuckled at their antics. Steve snatched the card before they could change their mind, while Natasha smiled behind her cup. “We expect a full report later though.”

She exchanged a high-five with Sam under the bar, but Steve was too busy examining the card and having his heart beating incredibly fast to feel exasperated at his childish friends.

As he flipped the card in his fingers, he felt a wide smile spread his lips at their own accord.

If you ever need another photoshoot or anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. xxx

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

S.R. masterlist

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷*✧⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

Thank you for reading :-*

Link to the inspiration post will be in reblog!

What can I say to my defence? I just really like making Steve happy, okay?

And yeah, the 2016 FILA is perfect too, but this fic is a result of a suggestion of a friend and babyface CE is more Steve, what can I say…

218 notes · View notes

whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years ago

Text

Long Nights - part 2

Neil x Reader

Chapter 2: Praise you

(see chapter 1)

summary: you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining.

...even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, teasing, implied smut I guess? oh, and of course - ✨hand content✨

author’s note: Took me a while, but it was fun to write! Didn’t expect it to get this long, but here we are - over 4,2k words of shameless hand content

The song for this chapter is Fatboy Slim - Praise you

Anyway, enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @vaneilla @gallifreyan-uprising @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @truly-insatiable (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list)

-----

You cracked it.

It took you a good while, though. A whole sleepless night, even.

And half of the morning after that.

But maybe the absolute exhaustion was the key, pun intended.

At first, it boggled your mind so much that you were dangerously close to using brute force just to examine that lock. You tried every technique that you could think of - to no effect. It wasn’t like anything you’d seen before. The mechanism wasn’t responding as usual, it was more like a thing from goddamn Upside Down, or however the fuck that was called.

It became a matter of pride.

The sun had risen over an hour ago and the sunlight was pouring through the gaps in the blinds. Grasping at the last strands of sanity, you decided to take a break. You put on your headphones and danced around your apartment to the sounds of a song with that one bloody line that somehow seemed fitting for this madness.

Is it worth it? Let me work it, I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it

Because it felt exactly like that was what had happened to it. And no amount of cursing and switching tools would help in the face of glitched reality.

And when you sat down at your desk again, with your head so empty that your last brain cell was amusing itself by yodeling and listening to an echo, you bound the first pin. The sound was so distorted it almost startled you. The last thing you needed right then was to break the hook inside the keyway, so you leveled your breath and continued, even though your fingers cramped painfully. That wasn’t enough to stop you. Not as you finally got proof that the task was actually within your reach.

With every click like a backwards version of the sound you knew so well, the next pins got set quicker and smoother. And when you opened the lock, you couldn’t help the cheerful scream that escaped your mouth.

“Fuck yes!” You punched the air, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the biggest grin lighting up your face.

That’s when you knew there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. Besides, you still didn’t know how you managed to convince that device to cooperate. You had to prove to yourself that it wasn’t dumb luck, and should you ever come upon a bloody nightmare like that, you’d be able to use the experience to crack it open. Because of that, you spent the next couple of hours reverse-picking it (which turned out to be another level of bonkers) to lock the damn thing, only to open it back again. And again. And then three times more. When you got comfortable with the process, your eyes were burning, your fingers stiff and trembling, but the immense satisfaction was worth every bit of it.

You were about to crash on the bed as your phone buzzed, and you glanced at the incoming message.

//did you pick it?

At first, you assumed you got it from Mahir, but as you were typing in a long rant, you realized that there was no history of the previous conversations on the screen, so you checked the sender again.

Neil.

Huh.

You’d exchanged the numbers the day before, but you didn’t expect to hear from him until they got everything ready to start the lessons. Oh well. You snapped the picture of the open lock and sent it back, adding a short message.

//that was fun, hope you have more of them

As you faceplanted on the bed, the phone buzzed with a reply.

//N: you bet

You couldn’t wait to get all the answers about how they managed to manufacture the most bizarre and mind-bending thing you’d ever seen, but there was no point in asking those questions over the phone. Plus, you really needed to get some rest.

//awesome! now excuse me, imma get some Zs - let me know when you guys are ready to start

After a second, you typed in another text.

//ps. how’s your nose?

//N: will do, sleep well!

//N: as for my nose...let’s say I’m glad it wasn’t the straightest one in the first place

That cheeky bastard.

//hey, don’t try to guilt-trip me, i’m trying to sleep

You almost drifted off, but you couldn’t resist checking that last notification.

//N: ...I wouldn’t dare

Snorting, you rolled to the side.

Then you fell asleep, dreaming of the impossible locks.

-------

It took them another day to prepare all the stuff, and after several further messages you got a date and location.

The building looked like a contemporary tenement house, definitely standing out from two older ones at its sides. You always assumed it belonged to one of those fancy start-ups, but apparently it was some sort of temporary headquarters of your new associates.

It didn’t surprise you that you weren’t given a tour of the place, you assumed you needed to have some sort of clearance to walk freely through the area. For now, you were restricted to the ground floor, or rather to the lobby and your classroom - a rather cozy space, but equipped with everything you needed to begin.

Neil turned out to be a fast learner, at least when it came to covering the theoretical side of lockpicking. You walked him through the basics, but you couldn’t help the itch in the back of your brain. After the encounter with the preposterous lock, your mind started to question everything that used to be unshakeable.

And of course you asked Neil about that bloody device as soon as you saw him, but he just smiled lightly and said that The Protagonist insisted on telling you all that himself when the time was right. So you had nothing left to do but to continue with the lessons, hoping that you the man himself would decide to grace you with his presence sooner than later.

You propped the chin on your hand and watched as Neil grabbed the tools. Your gaze wandered over his outrageously long fingers as he gave the lock a try, but apparently, the most idiotic grin on your face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, eyes up here,” snorted Neil, and you looked at him just to meet his amused face. He caught you shamelessly staring, and there was no point in denying it.

Trying to salvage your mental coherence, you choked out, “Dude, your hands are--”

“What?” he asked, tilting his head.

“...huge,” you finished, the wide smile not leaving even for a second. You bit your lip and glanced back at Neil. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna stare for a bit longer.”

A hint of a blush crept upon his cheeks. My, oh my. Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat and proceeded to bind the first pin, pressing his mouth into a thin line in an attempt to keep a composed demeanor. The sparkles in his gaze were quite telling, though.

The sight was utterly adorable, but more importantly, it planted a rather gut-busting idea into your head.

You stifled a giggle.

All in due time.

____

One of the perks of the location was a small cafe on the other side of the street.

Neil took you there on your second day during a break, walking in with a confidence of a true regular. He knew the staff by name and vice-versa, so it didn’t surprise you as he charmed his way through the conversation.

“I’ve got this,” he said, raising a hand to stop you before you could place your order. “One black coffee and one--...” he hesitated, still preventing you from chiming in. You crossed your arms and watched as his forehead creased, the confidence leaving him with every second passed. He narrowed his eyes, and you could almost hear the gears grinding in his head.

Whatever he was doing, or trying to do, it was time to put him out of his misery.

“Iced mocha for me, please,” you said, wondering which one of you had a more puzzled expression. “Cat got your tongue?”

Neil shook his head.

“No, it’s just…” - he let out a small sigh - “I can’t read you.”

“Good,” you snorted. “Why would you want to, anyway?”

The young barista smiled, putting the first coffee on the counter.

“Oh, your colleague here has a thing.”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Do tell!”

“It’s nothing,” said Neil, cringing slightly, but it wasn’t enough to prevent the enthusiastic answer from spilling from the barista.

“He likes to guess the orders of his companions, but this is prolly the first time I ever saw him freeze like that. Can’t wait to tell Doris!”

Neil groaned, avoiding your amused stare. “Spare me, Max.”

“Aww, man, I’m honored to be your first!” you teased, nudging his arm lightly and snickering at the absolutely done face he gave you in return.

That cafe quickly became your place of choice during breaks, but sometimes, if the weather was nice enough, you ordered to-go, just to spend that bit of free time between lockpicking sessions sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a bank of the river. You chatted about everything and nothing in particular, or simply sat in silence, enjoying the ambiance, beverages, and each other’s company.

The last thing took you by surprise, in a way. You’d expected those brief moments of a break during the day to be your sacred moments of solitude, the usual necessity to avoid getting too cranky around people. As Neil joined you on that second day, you found out that his presence was not bothering you, or at least your social batteries weren’t being drained in their regular manner. Sure, it probably helped that he was incredibly easy on the eyes, but a real treat were those moments when you ventured onto a territory he felt strongly about. In a wink, he was ready to drop his typical composure just to go straight into bubbly rants, gesturing wildly, the blue irises lit by the fire that he most often kept under wraps.

There was nothing more boring than people who lacked passion.

Lucky for you, that was not the case with Neil.

Moreover, he made you laugh.

A dangerous combination.

Alluring, even.

Good thing that you were not one to become smitten that easily.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun, though.

--------

“You need to listen to what the lock has to say,” you prompted, pacing through the room and watching as Neil struggled with a new type of mechanism. “It’s all about feedback.”

He pulled out the tools and rubbed his face, trying to hide the first hints of frustration.

“What if we apply heavier tension to amplify it?” he said and glared at the lock as if it was taunting him from its place on the practice stand.

“Sure, “ - you leaned over the table to rest the chin on your laced fingers - “but can you think of any reasons not to do that, my dear Physics Boy?”

“The higher possibility of breaking tools?”

“Precisely,” you said as you snapped and pointed your fingers. ”Also, you risk binding the pins too tightly and you wouldn’t want that, either.”

Neil sighed and slumped his shoulders.

“So...patience, then?”

“Yes,” you beamed. “It really comes down to one thing - you have to feel it.”

A corner of his lips twitched. “I’ve heard it before,” he said, shifting in his seat.

You shrugged, eyeing him curiously.

“Maybe because that’s one universally useful advice?”

“Would help if I understood it, too.” He gave you a weak smile, but his expression told you he wasn’t convinced.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Listen, I can smarten it up for you, but let me just show you what I mean.” You grabbed the second pair of tools from the table and placed them inside the keyway, but as soon as you opened your mouth to provide some follow-up instructions, you got struck by a better idea. Your eyes flared up. “Okay, know what? I’m just gonna-- if you could scoot back a bit--...” you said, shuffling in his direction. Neil’s brows snapped together in consternation, but he moved back. Without further ado, you sat down in front of him, nestling yourself between his spread legs on the edge of the chair, and let out a content sigh. “Should be easier now. Put your hands on mine.“

Neil tensed, and you could swear you heard him swallowing hard behind your back. He followed your suggestion, wrapping his arms around you and placing his hands on top of yours.

“Now, lay your fingers on the tools just above mine,” you continued as you slid your digits back to make more room for him. “Great, try not to press them and focus. Close your eyes, if you want.” As you gently moved the tools, you couldn’t resist but to add, “You can breathe though, you know?”

“Blimey.”

You giggled at the sarcastic bit in his tone and drew a long breath, hoping that Neil would follow it, and focused back on the lock. Purposefully slowing down your movements to allow him to feel how the mechanism responded to your ministrations, you kept sliding the hook back and forth the keyway, setting pin after pin. Neil relaxed after a moment, his shallow breath ghosting over your shoulder got deeper and more steady. His palms rested heavier on your hands, and you marveled at their size again, nibbling on your bottom lip. With all your senses sharpened, you stole a brief moment of self-indulgence, closing your eyes and relishing in the warmth radiating from Neil, the way it enveloped you, carrying a scent of his cologne - airy citrus undertones mixed with hints of powdery musk, a fresh and unostentatious combination you found fitting him so well.

The final click, more pressure and voilà - the lock was open.

“Did you feel it?” you asked softly, weirdly unwilling to move, hoping to linger in the position for a little while longer.

“Yes,” said Neil, and his husky voice made you turn your head to look at him. As he pulled his hands back somewhat hesitantly, you noticed his dazed expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Good,” you chirped, grinning, then reached out over your shoulder and lightly booped his nose, enjoying probably a bit too much the way his eyes widened. “Your turn.”

-----

Days. Weeks. Or was it months, plural?

You lost track of how much time had passed since that morning in the Old Town district.

The progress was counted by the number of models you introduced to Neil, showing him all the tricks you’d learned over the years. You still waited for the meeting with The Protagonist, although, ever since your student spilled a little too much information during one of his enthusiastic rants at the breaks (seriously, how could a person that bad at keeping secrets survive so long in any sort of spying business was beyond you), your initial curiosity itch had been scratched, and you were now in that blessed moment before it got unbearable again and demanded taking further actions.

It also helped that you found tremendous joy in coming up with new ways to make the lockpicking sessions challenging. And entertaining. Even if the last part was mostly a one-sided thing.

Neil was clearly feeling confident that evening. He really started to get a hang of this, and you loved watching him like that - fully focused, blonde strands falling to the eyes, with the tip of the tongue poking out...

It would be a shame if someone was to test his level of concentration.

“You know, I spend so much time looking at your hands that they recently started making cameos in my dreams.”

The blue eyes darted at you from under raised brows.

“Is that so?" asked Neil, switching his attention to the lock again.

“Yep. Mind you, most of those dreams are rather uneventful.” You pouted, sliding from your place on the windowsill. “Still waiting for one that is not so boringly PG-13.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed with effort.

...warmer...

Circling the table, you stopped behind Neil’s chair.

"I’m just saying,” - leaning over, you purred right into his ear - ”that such long fingers like yours can give a girl all sorts of ideas--"

Snap.

You bit back a satisfied smile and smacked your tongue. “Those were perfectly fine tools, you know.”

Neil turned in his seat and gaped at you.

“Why are you like this?” he complained, helpless and flustered.

You shrugged. “I thought it was a high time for a little stress test. Might come in handy later.” Snickering at his puzzled face, you added, “What? You’re not exactly in a stress-free line of work.”

He shook the head lightly and scoffed. “... yeah, I see your point,” he said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “But I don’t think there’s a high risk of someone trying to seduce me in the field.”

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” you asked, arching a brow, your tone nothing but serious.

“I-...”

The panicked look on his face as he blinked rapidly was more than enough to break your deadpan façade.

“Oh man, I’m just pulling your leg. You should’ve seen your face though.” Giggling, you grabbed a fresh lock from a shelf and tossed it to Neil. He sighed and replaced the messed-up device. “Besides,” you continued, “if there is one thing that the espionage movies have taught me, it’s that the spy always has plenty of beautiful creatures willing to keep his bed warm.”

The playful sparks appeared in Neil’s eyes.

“Is this a very elaborate way of asking me if I’m seeing someone or are you volunteering?”

Well, well, well.

“What if it’s both?”

“Then the first answer is no. As for the second one--” he hesitated, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. “...a follow-up question - is it a good idea?”

You tilted your head, sitting down on the edge of the table in front of him.

“Why?”

“What if it’s gonna make things… I don’t know, weird?”

You gestured vaguely. “Can’t get any weirder than all your timey-wimey, inverted entropy bullshit.”

“That’s not exactly--”

“I know what you meant,” you sighed and met his darkened gaze, a shade of smile tainting your lips. “And yet, you’re trying to appeal to my reason while looking at me like that.” You left your seat and grabbed your backpack. “It’s getting late. Finish with this one and get some rest.”

Then you left, not waiting for a reply.

It was one of the warm nights and you decided to take a walk. A promenade near the river was not as crowded as you expected, making your journey home way more enjoyable. With your favourite tunes seeping through the headphones, you took in the view, the city lights reflecting in the water only added to the ambiance.

The phone buzzed in your pocket.

//N: I can’t believe you left like that

You chuckled, texting him back.

//why, you had any plans?

The answer came almost instantly.

//N: maybe

He was adorable. But--

//have you finished with the lock?

//N: …no

//N: wait are you gonna use our conversation as some sort of motivational tool now

Even if you weren’t, after getting a message like that?

You just had to.

//maybe?

//N: jesus

//sex is but a great metaphorical carrot. besides - it’s all about that delayed gratification and whatnot

A moment of silence.

And then:

//N: you’re evil.

That spiteful period at the end got you snickering loudly, earning you some curious looks.

A huge grin lit up your face.

//gn <3

-----

You must admit, that game was quite exciting.

And Neil was getting better at it, and soon implying became no longer enough to make him lose his focus.

At first, it was relatively easy to prompt a blush or a slight tremble of a hand. But with every next attempt, he grew more and more resilient, and soon, the only indication that he heard you was the fire burning in his eyes.

Then you got really mean, throwing some ambitious tasks in front of him, tricky locks and complex mechanisms, as your teasing got more straightforward.

And descriptive.

It became hard to shake it off once you left the training room. The lingering looks. The accidental touches. The atmosphere, almost electric. In other words - the heat sink was ready to be popped, and it was no longer a matter of if, but more of when.

“4 minutes.”

Neil barely nodded, lips pressed together and brows knitted in concentration.

3 locks in 15 minutes. Difficult, but doable, considering his current level of skill. Too bad he’d slacked at the second one, not leaving too much time for the final push. Sure, you didn’t go easy on him along the way, but the real challenge was supposed to be a race against the clock, so now you just watched him with bated breath.

Click.

You checked the time.

“45 seconds”

“Goddamnit!” he uttered through gritted teeth, readjusting cramping fingers on the tools.

“Come on, you’ve got this,” you said, taking a step closer.

Another click.

He didn’t know that there was only one pin left to set. You did, that’s why you tried your best not to reveal it with your expression. Too early to celebrate, anyway.

“Nine... eight… seven… six… five…”

That’s when you heard a final click and you looked up from your phone, only to see the lock giving in and opening up.

“Yeah!” Neil cheered, banging a fist on the table and tossing the tools away.

You smiled, hiding the phone in the pocket. “Good job, I knew--” but before you could finish a sentence, Neil sprung up from his chair and closed the gap between you, then cupped your face with his palms and kissed you hungrily.

You froze for a second, but as your mind caught up, you kissed him back, tugging at the light blue shirt. He smiled against your lips and made you back away until you hit the wall, huffing at the sudden coldness of the surface. But he was bent on kissing you senseless until you both ended up gasping for air.

“You’re so paying for all that teasing,” he panted, running the tip of the tongue through his swollen lips. “Not to mention, you’ve given me a few fascinating ideas, and I’m very much willing to give them all a try.”

You grinned, fighting with your evidently short-circuiting brain for a grasp of coherence as his hands traveled down your body.

“My, my, all of them?”

“The night is young,” - his throaty chuckle sent a wave of heat through your body - “and I’m up for a challenge.”

“I’m counting on it,” you breathed, burying your fingers in his hair, and pulling him into a kiss again.

Actually, the challenge started right away, and that meant getting to Neil’s place, as the company conveniently rented him a room in a nearby hotel. Walking distance, but in your current quite heated state, every distance seemed way too long. Especially when you had to keep up appearances.

At least until the elevator’s door closed behind you.

The dark gaze fixed on you. Your breaths intertwining. His bottom lip between your teeth. The five o’clock shadow under your fingertips. Your hands sliding under his shirt. His knee parting your legs. The intoxicating smell of his cologne. Your quiet moan. His tongue slipping into your mouth--

A quiet sound announced you reached your floor, and you stumbled out into the corridor, giggling, unable to keep hands and lips off each other.

Your back hit the door, barely missing the knob. Without skipping a beat, Neil reached to the pocket of his pants, then into the other one. When he tried the third one, you broke the kiss, your expression nothing but innocent.

“Looking for this?” you asked, showing him a key card.

He furrowed his brows. “Yes, thank you, I don’t know how--...” he started, but when he tried to snatch his property, you hid your hand behind your back. His jaw went slack as it dawned on him and he stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

He groaned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he uttered as he pulled out his wallet. “Credit card?”

“Only if you’re not overly attached to it.” The roguish lights danced in your gaze. “Especially when you’re in a hurry,” you hinted, palming over the bulge in his pants. Neil squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a moan, and you stifled a chuckle. “Try any membership card.”

He glared at you. “You’re so in for it, you have no idea.”

“Promises, promises,” you pouted, trying not to burst into laughter at his wounded expression. “Work it.”

“Gladly, just tell me what to do.”

So you walked him through the process.

Fortunately, Neil really was a fast learner, making the door give way in no time.

“Good boy,” you hummed, and the blue eyes flared up.

He crashed his lips on yours, closing the door behind you.

Then he gave you a taste of what was coming for you.

And then some more.

And then…

...he gave you all.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet #robert pattinson #tenet #tenet fanfiction #long nights

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rouiyan · 4 years ago

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𝘚𝘐𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘚𝘞𝘌𝘌𝘛 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ part of the before i met you collective ⧐

synopsis: "how could i ever say no?"

✧ lee donghyuck x (fem.) reader, best friends to loverz

✧ genres : plotless fluff, tiny angst ✧ word count : 2k ✧ disclaimer : swearing

✧ author’s note — guys, hyuck deadass has my whole heart.

“ahh,” you hold your mouth wide open, eyes never leaving the screen, in the direction of donghyuck who had just returned from the kitchen, snacks in hand. he’s in his usual getup of an oversized hoodie paired with basketball shorts, glasses propped upon the bridge of his nose and a messy flop of hair cascading over it.

he sighs, “geez, give me a break. i barely just sat down.” he pinches open a bag of spicy potato chips and pops one into his mouth before reaching to get another one for you. you’re clicking furiously and muttering various curses under your breath at the opponent and donghyuck's weak heart can’t help but flutter at how worked up you get every time you fail to land a punch. he’s about to put his hand down and wait for a time when you're not so focused but your mouth snatches at the chip and he almost jumps, his hand fearing consumption.

it takes your absolute all before you finally beat the boss, you eyes almost rolling back into your head and refusing to roll back out because of how exhausted they are. school was about to start, in three days to be exact, and if you didn't finish the game now, well, it was now or never. donghyuck sat by your side, mouth full of greasy potatoes, occasionally sipping from whatever drink he had brought. there was no reason for him to be here, he just insisted that he felt you tended to need some emotional support whenever you gamed, claiming that you were always far too 'out of it' to actually care for yourself. he said, as he always does, that it was his job to care for you. and that held true; no matter if you had a boyfriends at the time or not, donghyuck manged keep his word.

turning to look at him, your breath ragged, you see that his hood is pulled well over his forehead. chuckling, you take a fistful of the front of his sweatshirt and gently yank him towards you while grasping at the material of his hood with your other hand and tugging it back. this action causes his heart to topple and his eyes to stutter wide. your nose is close enough for him to move bare centimeters and place a gentle kiss on it. your lips are close enough for him to move bare millimeters and place a gentle kiss on it. he gulps. this can't be good.

giggling and awfully unaware of your best friend's crush for you growing by the second, you scrunch your nose at him (the very nose he wanted to kiss) and purse your lips, "i wanna see your face, silly." all donghyuck can do is swallow his feelings and instead be left breathless by your side profile. the more rational side of his mind is busy scrambling for a reply that doesn’t make him sound like the lovesick idiot of the century while the more irrational side is left in a blundering mess, bouts of adoration emitting from within. he collects himself and makes sure his countenance doesn't give away his rumbling inner thoughts. “you like what you see?”

your smile grows fonder, if possible, at his comment but he doesn’t dare to take his eyes from your face just because he knows the little blush that’s to appear. soon enough it blooms across your cheeks and he lovingly coos at the sight while your smile reverses into a small pout. “ugh, so flirty,” he hears your muttered reply although he's unsure if he was meant to. your head is already turned back to the screen after the little exchange and he holds onto it as you press ‘resume,’ replaying it in his head just to see that bright smile and little pout that he could never get sick of.

a few more chips are fed to you while you continue playing, which would be completely fine if not for your incredibly low spice tolerance. it isn't long before donghyuck notices your aggressive hissing that is definitely not from the sight of your character frolicking through a field. he's on the cusp of bringing it to your attention when you abruptly speak between two seethes, "hyuck, get me water please," he immediately moves from his spot to get water from the kitchen when you voice out your struggles once again. "actually, just get me anything. it doesn't matter."

donghyuck watches as your tongue curls at the tingles and he gauges the severity of the situation. he quickly snatches the drink he'd brought with him, despite knowing you wouldn't like it very much, and brings it up to your lips. you take one, two, three gulps before you turn to look at him with wide eyes. he swears your about to hurl the contents onto him and he winces in preparation but it never comes. you thickly swallow, the liquid almost threatening to bubble up once again, a gag reflex. the spicy sensation is gone but is now replaced by blatant disgust as your mouth hangs open as if you’d been force fed.

"red bull? hyuck, you're fucking kidding me!"

he bites back a smile as he settles his eye on your disbelieving face, "you said it didn't matter!"

"yeah, i did say that but that's red bull! literal poison!"

"hey, you’re not gonna die from one sip." a smirk is now forming on his face, he feels equally bad and equally good for being the center of your current attention.

"i can't believe you're still drinking that, hyuck." the pout returns and donghyuck silently rejoices, "i thought you said you were cutting back."

he bathes in your eyes for a split second before he simply replies, "i am."

"so what's that?" you eye the can suspiciously, upset that your best friend still succumbs to the unhealthy beverage.

"it's just a little energy boost, princess. i gotta stay awake to keep you company."

the nickname that accidentally slips past his lips catches the both of you off guard, his cheeks flaming a deeper red with each moment passing. you seem to handle the flustered silence better than he does, even going as far as furthering his state by scooting closer to him and placing both hands on one of his shoulders, propping your chin upon them. he can feel your fresh breath tickle and fan the skin under his ears and he knows that if he just so much turns his head in the slightest, he will be face to face with you in all your glory, without much space in between. he's not sure if he's ready for that.

clearly you don't give a shit because you tilt your head upwards to give him a kiss to the cheek. a soft, billowy kiss that leaves him stuck in that same trance, perpetually. withdrawing, you try poking at his sides to see if his expression will budge from the fazed out gaze he's sporting, but to no avail. "hyuck? are you okay?" he can hear you but he knows he's way too 'out of it' to answer. damn, you were supposed to be the one that was 'out of it.'

the sudden quietness of the room unsettles you and you're suddenly aware of his reaction. weird, you think, hyuck is never like this. hyuck's always and constantly flirting back and making sure he has the last word. you have an inkling on what this could be about but you almost instantly flush down the idea of bringing it up but it's hard to suppress because your gut instinct tells you that you’re right, that you should go for it. no, he really can’t like you. no, you're just deluding yourself... unless, you're not.

"hyuck," you blurt before you can even stop yourself. his head snaps up at the sound of his nickname. "do you like me?"

where it was previously beating a mile a minute, donghyuck's heart is now at a complete standstill. he can still hear it thumping louder than ever in his ears but he knows there's no way he'll live through this. taking a second to zone out of the whole situation, he notes that your character on the screen is now being mauled by a mob of freakish creatures, though the volume is turned low. he notes how your fingers are absentmindedly drumming on the fabric of your sweats as you usually would when you're nervous and that your blinking more than normal. maybe that was a sign you liked him back? maybe, but surely no. there's a dull ache in his heart that yearns for him to be selfish and just say no. he'd spare the potential loss of your presence by his side and just cope with always being the 'best friend.' but then he thinks of you meeting someone, that's not him, and dating someone, that's not him, and maybe one day even marrying someone, that's not him. he admits that the pain will be far greater than the dull ache he's experiencing now and perhaps that knowledge is exactly what he needs to persuade himself. donghyuck steels his heart because he thinks he's finally found the perfect reasons, the perfect timing, the perfect amount of courage to confess.

and he also knows that, if this were to go downwards, it might as well be the last time he sees you like this, dressed down in the dead middle of night, hair a tangled yet endearing (or so he thinks) mess, and eyes wide, holding galaxies upon galaxies of stars, none of which could compare to the sheer light you radiate. donghyuck makes sure to revel in your presence, for what could be the very last time, to capture your features, the ones he already has committed to memory. he breathes.

then, without warning, "hyuck…i love you," wait, what?! "hyuck, i love you as more than a friend." your pupils are shaking and there's tears that are unshed but visible. there's so much more that's stuck in your throat refusing to come out but the few words that made it past the threshold of your mouth already say enough. donghyuck expects the grim reaper to appear in a matter of seconds, he expects to be able to detach his spirit from his physically unmoving figure and watch as you say those words over his dead body. any minute now. but the more he sits there the more he realizes that this is real. you are real.

you can feel the emotions building up inside of you while he just stares at you. unmoving, he stares and stares and stares until you think that you've only imagined the last few moments. your crying now and perhaps that's the only things that slaps donghyuck out of his trance. he rushes his arms around you in the most automatic matter. it isn't until your the front of your face soaks the entirety of the front of his hoodie that you feel a little less shitty. your face is smushed flush against his chest and when you finally come to your bearings, you notice his heartbeat contracting erratically on your forehead. emerging from his embrace yet still in his hold, you meet your eyes with his. they're wide and scared, reminding you of just moments ago.

"i was- i was going to say that, exactly that but i- i guess you beat me to it."

"then... do you wanna be my boyfriend?" i want to be your girlfriend.

"damn it y/n, stop stealing my lines!" can i be your boyfriend?

"is that a no?" just say yes. i want to hear you say yes.

"n- no, yes. i mean no, it's not a no. and yes, i want to be your boyfriend." how could i ever say no?

#nct #nct fics #nct donghyuck #nct haechan #nct donghyuck fics #nct haechan fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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just-the-mage · 4 years ago

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A Return from Dark Waters, Part III

Part I / Part II

Written with the lovely and talented @iris-ymir! <3

Iris picked up the fork, holding it between her thumb and middle finger. While poking the pie lazily, she kept rubbing her temple. Her head was pounding, like something was trying to force its way out through her skull. Purple eyes followed Eva, as the woman was working around the kitchen. Iris had never seen this side of her. Maybe it had always been there, but she had never paid attention to it, while toying around with the poor girl. She saw Evangeline in a completely new light. Was this because Blacksoul had taken her in, and given her a job? Or was this because of Irene? Iris did not know what to think of this Irene-person yet. Evangeline seemed to enjoy the company of the foxy creature, but there was something about Irene that Iris could not get a hold of. Compared to Lareine, she was completely different... There was something sinister in Irene.

“Where do you keep your cigarettes? I can fetch one for you…” Evangeline had walked up to Iris, while she had been lost in thought. The pale viera raised her gaze up to the woman, giving her another uneven blink. Eva still had her towel around her, and another wrapped around her long, red hair. The towel was the same Evangeline had when she first took a bath in the manor. It was way too small for her tall, muscular form. It took a moment for Iris to notice she was staring, and she quickly turned sideways on the chair, gazing towards the hallway.

“...Heck... Dere should be a pack in da drawer, ‘aight next to tha damn coat hangar... At least dere was... Another should be in tha pocket of mi leather jacket...

...Danke, Evangelin’.”, Iris sighed out, as the woman headed towards the doorway, leading into the hallway. The scent of fresh coffee started to fill the kitchen. Iris picked up the glass of water Eva had given to her, and held it to her lips. It was weird being here, after such a long time. In this kitchen, where everything seemed to be as it had been...long ago. It was like the whole world around had frozen in place for two years. Iris tipped the glass, taking a long sip, and then it happened. As the water ran down her throat... as she tasted it on her tongue, it suddenly returned her to the bottomless sea. She gasped for air, ending up only breathing in the rest of the water that was in her mouth. Cold fingers of terror ran up Iris’ back, and the glass dropped from her fingers and onto the floor, shattering into pieces with a loud crash, echoing through the manor. She curled up, coughing, and finally threw up onto the floor, where the remains of the glass were resting.

The viera’s hands were shaking as she grasped her upper arms, digging sharp fingernails into pale skin. The image of the white beach faded, and she was in the kitchen again.

“I... Im not comin’ back...”, Iris muttered to herself, as tears ran down her cheeks. “... Ye ‘ear mi, motherfocker?! Im n-not comin’ back!”, she broke into a shrilling giggle, rocking back and forth on the chair. The coffee pot was boiling alone on the stove.

The shattering of glass broke the night-time silence that sat heavy in the air of the manor, piercing Evangeline’s reverie as she approached the jacket hanger near the large oaken double doors that led out into the courtyard. Eva turned on her heel, the cigarettes forgotten, her instincts kicking in immediately. She dashed back down the hallway, all manner of decorum immediately thrown from the window, unwanted and unneeded. Was Iris okay? Had someone broken a window? She knew she shouldn’t have left her alone...even for a second. Iris was severely traumatized...Eva should have brought the girl with her. Cold raced through her body as she turned the corner, skidding on the hardwood floors of the passage leading to the kitchen. She felt something drive into her foot, but paid it no mind. Bursting through the doorway to the kitchen, she scanned the room in one swoop, noticing the windows were intact, but Iris’ glass most certainly wasn’t. The pale, slight woman sat, rocking back and forth in her chair, weeping uncontrollably. The floor underneath her was littered with shards of glass, topped off with a puddle of vomit-this time neither black nor bloody. Evangeline swept towards her, taking Iris in her arms without a second thought.

“Iris? Are you still with me?” She said softly, cradling the woman gently against her.

A shiver traveled through Iris’ corpse-like body as Eva held her in her arms. How did she always end up being carried by this woman? The feeling was not completely unpleasant, but she still felt tied down...On the other hand, the warmth of Evangeline’s body tore her free of the remnants of bone-white beach’s grip.

“...Damn, Cinnabun... Y-Yer gonna c-carry mi over tha frickin’ doorstep or whut..?”, Iris tried to laugh, but it came out as yet another cough. From the corner of her eyes, she thought she saw a figure, sitting on a top of a cupboard, but as she turned her gaze, it was gone.

“...Seriously though.. C-Could ya put mi down? Tha... heckin’ coffee pot sounds like its about to blow up... D-Did ya find mi cigs..?”

Evangeline finally noticed the coffee pot.

“Oh! Shite! Shite, shite, shite…” Still holding Iris, Eva stepped quickly across the floor, caution to the wind again. Transferring Iris to one arm, she moved the coffee pot off of the burner, spun surprisingly gracefully, and deposited Iris in another chair, well away from the glass and the sick that was slowly starting to seep in all directions, running along the cracks between the tiles. That would have to be cleaned up soon.

“I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have picked you up like that. Instinct, I guess...I don’t have too much control over it. I didn’t get to your cigarettes before I heard the glass break...I’ll run back out and get them in just a moment. Would you like to come with me? I don’t want you to have to be alone…” Evangeline said, suddenly realizing her towel had slipped quite a bit running back to the kitchen. She adjusted it as surreptitiously as she could manage, and turned away. She took the coffee pot and poured a mugfull of it for Iris.

“What would you like? Cream? Sugar?” Evangeline intoned over her shoulder. As she placed the coffee pot back on the stove and turned off the burner, she glanced at the floor, upon which she had left a few bloody footprints. She sighed internally. Arsene wasn’t going to be happy about this...not one bit.

“Uhh... Just sum cream... A-And a heckin’ whisky shot... Gramps used to give mi one wid mi coffee...” Iris leaned over the table, and could just reach the plate of pie, still resting on her former seat. She pulled the plate to her, and her eyes catched something on the marble flooring. Bloody footprints, leading towards Eva. The woman did not seem to even notice, while working with the coffee, going through the fridge, most likely searching for the cream, and struggling with her too-small towel. “’Ey!...Yer bleedin’ Evangelin’... Did ya step onto the frickin’ broken glass or sumthin’? Dat should be looked at... Yer gonna mess up tha carpet, if ya run around like dat... Come ‘ere, sit yer fine arse on tha chair, and let mi look at it... ‘aight?”, while talking, Iris waved her fork towards the chair next to her. ‘Even healed the burn on your arm’ Evangeline’s words about the fox haunted in Iris’ mind. She noticed she hated the creature already. The hate was different from the hate she felt towards Lareine though. Different like night and day... Lareine was basically a child. Annoying, yes, but in the end, rather easy to deal with. Irene though?

‘...Why are you afraid?’, the inaudible whisper in her ear.. an invisible, clawed hand on her shoulder. Iris winced, almost dropping the fork. She felt the hair on her neck standing up. The medication... Had anyone given her the medication during these...what...? Four days, Evangeline had said? In the middle of her train of thought, a cup of fresh coffee was placed in front of Iris. The scent was otherwordly... She raised her gaze up to the woman next to her. To those purple eyes, much like her own. With the color of her eyes, Evangeline could have been her sister.

“Forget dat cig for a moment, Cinnabun, and take a heckin’ seat... I’ll see whut I can do with yer foot, but just payin’ mind to tha amount of frickin’ blood on tha floor, I dink we might need sum bandages or sum shite ‘ere... Whut are the fockin’ chances dat once when I could actually use Blacksoul, tha man has left da buildin’..?” Iris tapped the chair with the tip of her fork, waiting for Evangeline to take a seat, before the woman could mess the floor any further. She picked up the cup of coffee, brought it to her lips, and took a sip, focusing on the taste... on the scent... trying to ignore the whispers in her ear... chase away the creeping feeling of someone, or something, standing right behind her... a looming presence...

Evangeline sat down with a sigh, propping her feet up so that Iris could look at them.

“Ugh...I didn’t even notice. Thank you, Iris. I’ll clean the floor in a moment...I appreciate you looking at them. I don’t have much feeling on the bottom of my feet anymore...you’re probably right. It must be some of the glass. Honestly though? I could have a nail in there and I’d have a hard time noticing.”

Evangeline glanced at Iris, who was carefully inspecting Eva’s foot. This was certainly not how Eva had expected, or wanted to spend her evening...she had been hoping for some relaxation, but she had been given a situation that was anything but relaxing. She was still surprised, though, at just how much better Iris returning had turned out. Eva had been dreading it in more ways than one...the shouting match that she had expected. The damaged feelings, the cold shoulders, the incredible awkwardness that would ensue, fallout from an earth-shattering argument between the two of them. And yet...despite the truly terrible breakdown she had just experienced, or...maybe...because of it? Everything had turned out well.

It was hardly a pleasant evening, but Eva found herself breathing a sigh of relief. And with that sigh of relief...she realized just how tired she was. The nightmare had taken its toll on her body...one that wasn’t obvious to the naked eye. Her limbs felt leaden, her eyes heavy...she felt like there was a stone tied around her neck, dragging her down. It wouldn’t be long before she fell asleep...she hoped Iris would stay with her. Sleep next to her as she had said she would.

Melancholy weighed upon her mind as she wound down, pent-up tension releasing as she felt the light pressure of Iris’ fingers on her foot. It would probably be improper for her to sleep next to Irene in the future. Especially once Silke got back. The two of them seemed truly meant to be together...despite whatever it was that was holding them back. The last thing she wanted, though, was to let go of that friendship...whatever her own needs were, she felt a pressing need to maintain her friendship with Irene...and perhaps even create one with Iris. She winced as Iris touched something. There it was...whatever was plaguing her foot.

“That’s something...ah...what did I step on? I can actually feel that.”

Iris leaned forward, while turning Eva’s foot as much as it was possible with the woman sitting down, to get a better look. There was definitely something in there. By running her fingertip gently over the wound, she could feel something sharp in there. It was a big one, and had sunken too deep for her to get a grip of it. Even less with her long claw-like nails, which in this case, were more in the way than helpful.

“Dere’s definetely sumthin’ okai... But dis arse’ole is a big one... Let mi just try to...”, she placed her thumb onto the side of the wound, and while pressing onto it, rubbed her other thumb down from where she thought the little piece of shite was hiding in. As she did this, Evangeline’s leg twitched, making Iris lose her grip.

“...For fock’s sake... Do mi a favor, Cinnabun... ‘Aight? Try to stay still... I almost got it... May need sum tools though, but... Lemme try it one more time!” The blood was slowly dripping out of the wound, running down on Eva’s foot, and falling onto Iris’ pale thigh, like an injured wolf’s lifeblood dripping onto fresh snow. With a long sigh, Iris returned her attention to the wound. After some time, and a couple of failed attempts, she got a grip of the end of what appeared to be a splinter of wood, instead of glass. She bit her lower lip, and pulling down carefully, got the splinter out, holding it up for Evangeline to see.

“Now look at dat frickin’ bad boy! Dis is a damn ‘alf o’ a log right ‘ere! Damn... Dis fockin’ ‘ouse is fallin’ apart...”, she gave a quick glance towards the wound, while placing the rather sizeable splinter onto the edge of the table. The wound was not bleeding badly. The splinter had gushed out some blood on the way out, but without it, it was hardly dripping. This was good.

“Now stay dere... I’ll see if... I can find anythin’ to tie tha wound wid.. Its not bleedin’ much animore, but ya cant walk on tha hallway carpets wid it aniway.. Blacksoul would frickin’ kill ya..”

Supporting herself with the back of her chair, Iris got up, only to almost fall face first onto the marble flooring. Her head was spinning. The room changed in front of her eyes. Hard, cold marble under her feet turned into soft, bone-white sand. The walls around vanished into thick fog, rising from the pitch-black sea. She fell onto her knees, breathing quickly... breathing in the thick air which reminded her of cold winter graves... and rot.

“No... Nonononono!”, a wail escaped her lips, as she held her head, trying to make the vision disappear, but it was no use. Evangeline? Iris turned around quickly, but the woman had disappeared, with everything else. There was something in the mist though... Further away on the beach, near the waterline... A figure, dressed up into a grey gown, which almost made her part of the fog. What stood out though, was her face... Lips had been painted black, against almost white chin. And the eyes... The area around the eyes had been smeared with black, like soot, and from that darkness, two empty, dead eyes stared towards Iris. Dead, soulless eyes. Iris opened her mouth to scream, but no voice came out.

Suddenly the world turned again, turning her stomach upside-down, and throwing her back into the kitchen. She was sitting back on the floor, the towel had dropped, and was now laying next to her feet. Evangeline was back... and for the second time, during a single evening, Iris was happy to see that face... those eyes like purple pools. Eyes that were alive. Visibly shaking, Iris got back onto her feet, picking up the towel, and wrapping it around her form.

“...W-When’s B-Blacksoul comin’ back, Evangelin’..?”

Iris rose from her chair, remarking that bandages would be a necessity if Eva ever wanted to leave the kitchen again. The muscular woman nodded in agreement, her crimson locks bouncing as she did. The sooner they could bandage her foot, the sooner they could fall into bed, something Eva was quickly finding that she needed desperately. Iris hadn’t been standing for more than a second before she tipped over like an expensive, fragile glass vase. She didn’t hit the floor immediately, but hung in the air for a moment, wobbling, her eyes searching the room wildly for something that wasn’t there. Before Eva could untangle herself enough to catch Iris, though, the other woman had collapsed to her knees, quietly wailing and clutching at herself. Evangeline sprung to her side, decorating the floor with another splatter of blood. Again? Crossed her mind. The mental toll this...dark sea must have taken on Iris’ mind seemed immense. She wondered if there was a trigger...something to be avoided that might help Iris stay grounded. Or maybe...something to be said?

“Iris? Iris! Listen to me, okay? You’re right here, not anywhere else. I’m right here next to you.” Evangeline knelt down next to the kneeling woman and took Iris’ chin under her hand, tilting it up so that she could look into the other woman’s eyes.

“Look at me...focus on me. Hear my voice, and stay with me.” Iris’ eyes...they weren’t Irene’s, that much was certain. But she almost looked through Evangeline...her eyes locked to something that wasn’t there. In a moment, though, she seemed to snap back to reality, her eyes no longer drifting, focusing in on the woman who was directly in front of her.

”W-When’s B-Blacksoul comin’ back, Evangelin’..?” Varg hadn’t said specifically when he would be returning. A month, or two perhaps. He may have been vague because he himself didn’t know how much time he’d need to be away for. This wasn’t particularly good...especially given the way Iris’ condition seemed to be straining her. Hadn’t she...hadn’t she had some medication? Something she had taken days before? Evangeline remembered Varg making some sort of comment about Iris working at the hospital…

“He said...a month. Two at most.” Concern was clear on Evangeline’s face.

“Wasn’t there some sort of medication you had? Were you supposed to take it daily? Irene never took anything, to my memory.” Eva placed her hands on the shoulders of the now shaking viera.

“You’re going to be okay. I promise.” Evangeline stood up. She’d have to get a bit creative for now...fetch some proper bandages later once things had settled down. She stepped over to the sink, leaving a still-noticeable but less severe pattern of blood along the kitchen floor. From a drawer underneath it, she pulled a dishrag, and, crouching over, wiped her foot and tied the cloth around it. Hopefully this would be enough to staunch the bleeding, at least enough for her to move around the house. She returned to Iris, coming back down to her level. She took Iris’ hand in hers, and looked into those deep purple eyes. The eyes she had loved, lost, and that had come back...not at all in the way she had expected.

“Do you think the medication will help you? If it will, I’ll come with you...and we can find it together. You’re not alone.”

Iris took hold of Evangeline’s hand, letting the woman help her back onto her feet. Her head was still spinning, and she felt like her legs would give in, but she managed to stay standing. She gave a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. Bloody footprints traveled back and forth across the floor, like an echo of where Eva had been. The puddle of almost colorless puke was still resting at the foot of the table, but had stopped from spreading further. Leaning onto Eva, Iris took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling of someone constantly watching her from the shadows of her heart. Two months until Blacksoul would be back? For once, Iris would have actually needed the man, and on the moment like that, he was gone. This was like a bad, universal joke…

“Tha medicine, yeah. I... should take it daily. It should be in mi room... At tha heckin’ nightstand.. a small wooden casing. ‘Onestly though? Im frickin’ tired.. Could just head off to bed and take it den...”, while still talking, she glanced towards the pie and fresh cup of coffee, that were left on the table.

“...Shite... I-I can make it into mi room on mi own.. Im not a fockin’ grandma to be carried around. But... could ya bring tha coffee and pie wid ya? Damn I hate to even ask, but Im afraid I might drop dem on tha way...”

“Absolutely!” Evangeline’s lips curled up into a warm smile, as she made sure pale woman would stay standing without support. She took couple of steps to the table, and picked up the plate and cup of coffee.

She would need to clean the kitchen floor, but first she would see Iris into her room, and get her the medication. Meanwhile, Iris was waddling her way towards the door, and into the hallway. She glanced up towards the stairs, bit her lip, and started to climb. At this point she realized just how tired her whole body was. The dream... hallucination.. whatever it had been, had taken its toll onto her body, and she felt like she had not slept in days, while truly, it was almost all she had done for the past week or so. After a climb that felt like a dozen floors, Iris arrived at the second floor of the manor, where her room was. She could hear Evangeline’s steps in the stairway behind her. Every second step sounded damp, because of the rag she had wrapped onto the wound. Iris placed her bony fingers onto the handle, and opened the door, stepping into her room, which was filled with dolls of all shapes and sizes. Everything seemed to be as she had left it. She fought her way to the wide bed, and fell back onto the black, velvery sheets, partly sinking into soft cushions.

Iris’ usually confident stride had been fully replaced by a half-awake stagger. Evangeline wanted to support her...help her along...but Iris’ pride, even in this state, probably wouldn’t allow for it. She had already picked the woman up once tonight...might as well let her maintain her independence in getting to bed. Eva padded along behind her, uneven in her gait as she stepped on the rag again. Hopefully it wasn’t soaked through yet...she just needed a bit longer until she was able to slip away to the bathroom. Loathe as she was to leave Iris alone, she felt a pressing responsibility to clean up as much as she could...and she needed to bandage her foot if she wanted to get into bed. Bloody sheets were the last thing that anyone wanted to wake up to.

Iris rounded the corner into her room, which had remained mostly, if not entirely, untouched throughout the other woman’s absence. Now all that remained was injecting her medicine, a task that Eva wasn’t fully familiar with. She hoped Iris would be able to manage it. Administering medication was far from Eva’s strong suit, and though she could apply a bandage as well as the next person, she would be hard pressed to find a vein with how tired she was.

Evangeline slipped into the room just in time to see Iris throw herself onto her bed, as if she were a fox plunging into a snowbank in search of prey. The bed looked incredibly comfortable. Iris being in it...an added bonus. Evangeline thanked all twelve gods that she wouldn’t have to sleep alone tonight. Even if it wasn’t Irene...having someone else there would be a lifesaver. She approached the bed, and set the coffee and the pie down on the nightstand next to the side Iris lay on, wreathed in dark sheets. Looking to a wooden box on the same nightstand, Evangeline picked it up and opened it, revealing a syringe and a bottle of light green liquid. It looked like what one would expect poison to look like…

“Can you inject this yourself? I’m not...not really a professional with a needle, unfortunately.”

"Yeah, I can do dat miself... Not dat I even like anyone else doin' it. Just... fill tha syringe to one third and 'and it to mi, will ya?" Iris replied, her eyes full to the brim with exhaustion.

“Of course.” Evangeline smiled softly at the small, slight puddle of viera lying in bed in front of her. She filled the syringe, at first halfway, and then letting enough out to be right around one third full. Handing it to Iris, she asked:

“Will you be okay if I run and get bandages? I’d like to keep your bed as clean as I can...and I feel a bit obligated to clean up as much of the floor of the kitchen as I can manage. I’ve left the pie and the coffee here on your nightstand.”

Iris nodded and gave Eva a slight wave, shaking hands trying to find a vein with the needle. Evangeline struggled mentally for a second, before uttering:

“Can I...would you like me to...can I help at all?” Iris shook her head, still concentrating on placing the needle. Eva let out a light sight and withdrew. She wanted to help, but at this point it would be better to get everything sorted with the kitchen then to try and help Iris with something that Evangeline herself had no idea how to do. She’d most likely just make the situation worse.

Stepping away from the pale viera, Eva unevenly retreated out of the room, her every other footstep muffled by the rag that was luckily still tied around her foot properly. Over the next few minutes she first made her way to the bathroom and found a roll of blissfully white bandages, thoroughly wrapped her foot, and carefully taped it together with a few lengths of medical tape. That would hold her until morning...at least. She’d need to air it out tomorrow, and try to take a better look at it, but hopefully it would start healing on its own. Holding up the rag she had removed, she sighed disappointedly. It was fully dyed crimson at this point. Very little of the original grey of the cloth remained. She hoped Arsene hadn’t been particularly fond of this rag...it was basically useless now. Eva balled it up and stood, now properly bandaged. One task down...now on to the next one.

To Be Continued...

#ffxiv #evangeline cross #writing #rp #mateus rp #iris ymir #the coils of d'espair: irene #viera #rava viera #veena viera #crystal rp #ffxiv rp #a return from dark waters

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corpse--diem · 4 years ago

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An Offer You Can’t Refuse | Felix & Erin

When: Very shortly before Big Felix Featuring: @streetharmacist Summary: During a drink to celebrate a job well done, Erin and Felix decide they’re not quite finished after all.

It wasn’t a conventional location by any means, but the way Felix saw it, they had left convention behind a few miles back. Dale was dead. Bea was alive. There was plenty of reason to celebrate. And what better way than watching humans embarrass themselves at the Siren’s Serenade? With an Absinthe Hemingway in hand, he sat at one of the tables farthest from the karaoke stage. He didn’t mind a spotlight or two in the slightest but...time and place. It could come later. Roy Chambers. The name Erin had mentioned. It made sense why it lingered in his dome for so long. It was a familiar name. The kind that bears repeating. A few utterances invoked the spirit of old connections and he was nonetheless eager to share. If only to see where the threads all went to. Felix took a sip and eyed the door as he waited. The way things were, it was a matter that certainly demanded to be discussed.

Finding Felix in the Siren’s Serenade crowd didn’t take long. Hard to miss the only guy in the place with sunglasses and Erin made a mental note to sensitively bring that up someday. She took just a moment to ready herself, straighten up, shake the tension from her shoulders. The job had been taken care of - Dale was dead. No cops were breaking down her door. Felix was being paid in full again. Generally speaking, things were that surface-level kind of okay that made meeting up for drinks not nearly as terrifying as it could have been. “Some real beauts in here tonight, huh?” She greeted him with a warm grin. Thank God he’d picked a table far, far away from that mess. The whiskey she ordered when she passed by the bar came as she settled into the spot opposite him, and was quiet otherwise until the plucky server left them alone. “How’s business?” Erin asked over the top of her glass, watching the curve of his lips in lieu of black glass. “Running smoother, I hope? Now that you’ve got that big ol’ bald roadblock out of the way.”

“You really missed out on a winner earlier,” Felix said as he sat up a little straighter as Erin approached the table. “Just when you thought folks got tired of Bohemian Rhapsody, bam, there it is again. Just a pitch higher and a pitcher more drunk too. You gotta love it.” He adjusted in his seat, propped an ankle up on one knee as he settled. At her question, he smiled and took a sip of his absinthe. “Business? Well, it’s business and business is booming. I think it’s the encroaching summertime. Really gets the people in a certain sorta way, y’know?” It wouldn’t do to mention how much he and Blaine had discussed how sad the youth of White Crest could be. It was an off time for most and when that was the case, it was an on time for them. At big ol’ bald roadblock, he gave a loud laugh and set his glass down. “Well heck, I can say that the push and pull is making a lot more sense and that’s always real nice to see in my line of work,” he admitted with a tilt of his head. “And yours? It’s not, ah, going under, is it?” He smiled. “Surely it’s not. Certainly not after a loss like that, huh?”

Erin spared a glance at the travesty on stage and immediately winced. “Does that mean that A Whole New World duet I was looking forward to with you is off the table?” She asked playfully, trying hard not to watch his smallest gestures and movements with too much scrutiny. Something had changed. She wasn’t sure what exactly, and it wasn’t something she’d be quick to call it trust. Maybe she should have been more unsettled by how easy it was to joke with a man who was basically an accomplice to the murder she organized. “Yeah? Glad to hear it. I’ll take it that means all is well.” She shook her head, eyes dropping to watch the ripples slam against glass. Oh boy. She’d need an emptier glass before she asked him to shine a light on any of that. Wouldn’t be good. She looked up again at his question. “Well, losses are my gain, generally speaking,” she shrugged. She sat back, tapping her finger against her glass as she contemplated her next words carefully. “Honestly? Retirement is starting to look pretty damn good right now and I gotta tell you--the packages available in our line of work? Not great. I know our buddy Dale would agree.” Warmth flooded her cheeks and suddenly she swore she could feel the heat brimming from the crematory chamber that very same man had left this world in. She paused, pushing past it and ease into another smile. “I’m hoping maybe you do too.”

“Oh, I won’t turn down a duet but let’s see how things are a few weeks from now, huh?” Felix said, mouth more in a curved line of knowing than anything close to a smile. “I’m nothing if not in it for a chance at some old-fashioned theatrics.” He loved his shadows without question but put the right spotlight on him and even a guy like him wanted to shine. And on the off chance it was the light of an interrogation room, he could make do. If he were someone else, gifted with the same knowledge, maybe they’d be put off by the way Erin smiled post-murder. Maybe even by how he did. They’d certainly be put off by the way they laughed and clinked glasses. Their stomachs wouldn’t handle it. Some people were just hungrier. A fact of life that his teeth fit around just fine. He could smile around it and he did so. “Oh yeah, very well but things could always be better,” he said with a thoughtful hum. “But ain’t that just how it is? Place like this, with what it has going on, it’s hard to ever really be satisfied since the work is never really done. I mean, you get it, right? All things considered, you got job security for life.” He tipped his glass towards her with a low laugh. As she spoke, he considered what she said carefully. There wasn’t any buzz in his chest other than the absinthe on his tongue. Words were everything to fae. They meant the slimmest difference between being in or getting out of a bind. “Hoping I do too, huh? Sounds to me like you’re looking for a newer, better deal. Very FDR of you, I dig it,” he said as he leaned forward intently. “Since we’re on the subject and all, I’ve got some information you might like to hear. About the ol’ bossman of yours.”

Old-fashioned. Erin had to laugh at that. Seemed to be this guy’s MO. It worked for him. “Why am I not surprised by that?” But he wasn’t wrong, about any of it, and part of her wondered if Dale had done them both a favor. He’d been the catalyst, the wild card that had spurned all of this on. Pissed Felix off enough to darken her doorway that fateful evening, stirring up tempers and trouble for them all. She could admit she’d grown comfortable, almost complacent in her rage, stewing and simmering. Now it was boiling over almost recklessly. It’d brought her here. If there was any hope to be had, it was right in front of her. Felix was quick. More knowledgeable than he let on. And sharp. She could tell that much already. Judging what side of the blade she fell on here was harder to distinguish but she knew she wanted to one the right one. “There’s always a better deal,” she nodded at his words, matching his dry smile. “Just ask any of my vendors though--I’m a hell of a negotiator.” Her eyes jumped from her drink to his sunglasses, momentary uncertainty flickering across her well set poker face at the mention of her boss. So much for that. “Do you? And how much is that gonna cost me?” She asked, shrugging nonchalantly. If she’d learned anything, it was that nothing came free. “If it’s worth anything at all. If you’re about to remind me that he’s a son of a bitch, trust me. I’m well aware.”

“You’re not? Dang, I gotta keep working on my front then.” Felix said with a smile as he unfolded an old matchbook and lit himself a cigarette. He waved the match out, breathed in nicotine, then breathed it out the side of his mouth. The karaoke choice shifted to something poppy that he didn’t recognize. It was bold what he and Erin were doing. Discussing dark things in the dim light of a karaoke bar. That was half of the thrill, really, the likelihood of being seen by the forces they discussed. Even if they were, no one would think anything of it right then. They were just chatting. See them now, but when the knifepoint touched to a neck with a pulse that hammered so hard the knife trembled, they might have wished they looked harder. Death granted a keen hindsight to the dying. One last gift. “Oh, I believe it. Death is an awful expensive business and while dirt naps are cheaper sometimes, can’t fault someone for wanting to rot in mahogany,” he said as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips and tapped it against the ashtray. “But gotta say, it’s good to know that you ain’t satisfied with all this business yet because I ain’t either. I think we can get dealt a better hand here.” He smiled. Erin was sharp. Quick. That was good. He appreciated the kind of company that could cut thin but cut deep. “Not much,” he admitted vaguely. “As for what I know, this guy, Roy Chambers? He ain’t just here. I’ve got some fellas in New York that know the name. He’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. A lot of pies that other people have made. Now that? That doesn’t sit right with me at all. Between you and me, guys like that shouldn’t have so much. It’s unseemly.”

There was something so incredibly appropriate about Felix lighting up that cigarette. Shadowy booths, shady conversations, smoke billowing around them in the dimly lit bar. Theatrics, case-in-point. Erin shook her head slowly, barely suppressing the smirk that lifted the corner of her lips. All they needed now was a black and white filter and a costume change to truly set the mood. “New York?” she echoed, raising her brows. Shit. This guy was a bigger deal than she anticipated with a reach like that. She could practically see the cogs and wheels spinning behind Felix’s glasses. “Of course he did. He probably thinks he’s the Elon Musk of White Crest,” she said, rolling her eyes. Didn’t surprise her though. Greed fueled monsters like Roy Chambers. He was a glutton, and a comfortable one. Constantly hungry, constantly devouring. Already trying to take bites out of her with her mother’s bones still stuck in his teeth. Her jaw set tightly and she glanced up from the napkin corner she was picking apart. “That’s a lot of pie, though. Sounds like you’re thinking about taking a few slices for yourself, yeah?” They were tiptoeing around it but there was no mistaking what Felix was implying. “If you’re offering--I could eat.”

Felix nodded through the smoke. “Yup. Makes sense. White Crest isn’t exactly a hub for this kinda work. Not really,” he said as he raised a hand and spread his fingers out. “He’s got a nice web here, sure, but a guy like this, it’s always bigger.” He smiled to himself then as he shifted forward and lifted himself from the shadow of the wall. He grinned. Erin got it. He had a feeling she would. She was tired of it and when people got tired of bullshit, they got restless. Proactive, even. And they made it known in ways that wouldn’t readily be forgotten. “Precisely, precisely.” His word manufacturing slowed as he got to thinking, his tongue pressed against the top of his mouth. “You see, I’d be fine taking a figure off or two, free up some space,” he admitted with a shrug, his tone easy. “Could do that, sure. It’d make things a little easier, you know, for you and me.” He gestured between the two of them. The grin he wore lessened by the second. “But I don’t think we’d be satisfied. Half-measures don’t sit right with me. Half-measures get you right back where you started.” He shook his head and looked at Erin. There wasn’t any concern or doubt in him. She got it. “Nah,” he said as he stabbed his cigarette into the ash tray. “We take off the whole fucking hand.” He laced his fingers together and sat up. “These debts you inherited? A couple Roy phalanges ought to cover it. With interest.” Money was a motivating factor in plenty but getting a guy back, that went further. It lived longer. “We do this? Really do this? We’re square for life. So yeah, Ms. Nichols, I’m offering.”

There it was--the proposition Felix had been inching toward since Erin had sat down across from him. At some point she knew it was coming. Maybe he needed someone low on Roy’s radar, capable of stomaching the hard jobs with a motivation matched his own. He sure as hell looked at her like he’d found someone to fill that slot. She could do it. He just needed to say the words and make it real. When he finally did, something dangerously close to hope woke with a hard start beneath her ribcage. She hadn’t expected that but she couldn’t pretend that it didn’t feel good. Her mind had been made up long before she finally spoke.

“Let’s really do this, then. Let’s cut off the hand. I’ll take the whole damn arm if that’s what it takes,” she answered without hesitation. Bit back a big, sharp grin. If they failed, they died. That wasn’t lost on her for a second. She’d been in survival mode for so long now though that it was easy to forget what she was doing now was purely existing. It didn’t sustain or nurture. Just kept her alive enough to trudge through the next day. It was time. She was ready to live again, even if trying was the last thing she ever did, and she met Felix’s hand halfway across the table. “I’m all in.”

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: felix #an offer you can't refuse

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zankivich · 5 years ago

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If You Cross Her, Then You Cross Me: Werewolf! Shawn x Black Reader

a/n: Hi this is the third part of the In My Blood Series. It could probably be read independent, but its a lot cuter if you read all of them tbh. I just wanted to take the common trope of guy defends girl and make it a little less trash. So I hope I did that. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Assault/harassment, a little smutty smut.

The first time you seen Shawn get angry is an odd experience. Mostly because it comes out of nowhere, and also because it’s not directed at you and yet you feel it deep in your gut. The pack had been running drills more often than usual lately as a result of a new scent that had been picked up that no one recognized. Shawn was a little tense trying to measure whether the scent was a threat or not, so he’d been asking a lot more of everyone. Even you.

“Baby, I need you to let me or one of the guy’s pick you up from work for the next few days.” He broached hesitantly as you were getting ready for bed one night.

And for good reason.

“Excuse me? I don’t need a protector Shawn, I’m a grown ass woman.” You snorted.

Your latest hairstyle was a plethora of braids that fell all the way down to your waist and were a bitch to put up at night. Shawn appeared behind you and reached for the scarf in your hands to tie it more perfectly stable for you.

“You are a grown ass woman. This is much more for my sanity than yours. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.” He murmured playing gently with one of your braids.

He was pointing those dumb big brown eyes at you and looking all downtrodden and sad. It was so annoying how easily it worked on you.

You rolled your eyes. “Why does it have to be one of the guys. Why can’t one of the women come get me?”

“Because they’ll be busy running patrol. I’m not dumb Luna and Jasmine are more ruthless than any of the guys could be. It will probably be me most of the time, as long as I can get away from the shop and make sure things are alright. Please, babe. Humor me?”

You heaved a sigh that was as dramatic as it was loud before letting your head rest back on his chest.

“On one condition.”

He whined, the alpha in him simultaneously displeased at not being immediately obeyed while also itching to serve.

“This weekend I get you all to myself.” You murmured.

His arms wormed around you from behind and he peered at you in the full length mirror.

“Honey…”

“Don’t honey me. Ever since y’all sniffed something in the wind you’ve been out all hours of the night. You’re grouchy and tense all the time. We never just get to lay in bed and relax. I miss you.” You admitted softly.

“I miss you too.” He cooed squeezing at your hips. “But I’m the leader of the pack. I have to make sure everyone is safe.”

You peer up at him with a look that must state you’re not very happy. You can’t help it. You miss the feel of his curls tickling your face when he cuddles into your body. Miss the warmth and the fullness that his love brings to your tummy. You just miss him, and you want him. Is that so bad?

“I’ll do my best, okay? As long as nothing dire is happening, you can have me. I’m yours.”

You smirked softly and turned in his arms to wraps yours around his neck.

“Damn skippy you are. Come here already.”

His lips find yours and you squeal as he pulls your legs up around his waist heading straight for the bed. There is no feeling like the feeling of his hips pushing down against yours. His palms warm and firm on your thighs as his tongue works like heaven in your mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating, like you are the most important thing in the world and he does it with incredible ease. This is exactly what you were missing.

“Can I?” He whispers all sultriness and lust.

His hands had found their way to cup your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. Shawn was obsessed with most parts of your body, but his fascination with your boobs was in a league of its own. You were helpless to pretend that it didn’t get you going. That the adoration and heat in his eyes didn’t make you feel sexy and wanted. So when his fingers reach for your tanktop you’re more than willing to indulge him.

“Yea.”

He tugged your straps down over your shoulders and pressed kisses to the top of your chest. Your nipples pearled in the cold air and his tongue was immediately there to trace the sensitive skin. Your back arched involuntarily.

You moaned. “Shawn.”

Everything is perfect. His hips nestled between your thighs. The weight of his body keeping you anchored as he does everything in his power to make you squirm. And boy do you squirm.

“Mine.” He grunted, teeth grazing your flesh.

Jesus.

A knock on the door disrupts everything.

“Not now!” Shawn huffed still in your arms.

“Yea uh...trust me when I say I would love to not disturb what’s going on in there! But uh we just got back from patrol and we need to talk.”

That damn super wolf hearing was really beginning to be a nuisance.

“We have got to start staying at my place.” You huffed as he left you like a dead fish on the middle of the bed.

“You, don’t move. I will be right back. We are going to finish. I swear.”

You rolled your eyes letting your hands come up to cover your chest as your legs plopped out on the bed.

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just be here fondling my own titties. No worries!”

Shawn pulled the door open to Brian stumbling back to get out of the way. You only have to hear his voice to know his eyes are doing the darkening alpha thing that you might just think was hot if he wasn’t abandoning you mid nipple sucking.

“This better be good.” He gruffed pulling the door shut to leave you alone.

You peered aimlessly up at the ceiling before speaking to literally no one but yourself.

“This was my momma ain’t want me to date a white man. I just know it.”

***

It had been a busy day. Your assistant accidentally double booked you resulting in nonstop appointments all through your lunch hour. When you texted Shawn that you wouldn’t be able to make your usual lunch date at the diner because of it he had sent you a couple dozen heart and kissy face emojis with promises of making something special for dinner. It was sweet, even if it didn’t necessarily curb your hunger in anyway.

You pulled your gloves off and washed your hands after sending Ms. May, one of the older women in town, home with a decongestant.

“Ashley I’m gonna take a break until my 3:30. I’ll be in my office if you need me!”

You pulled your door open only to find your boyfriend with his obnoxiously perfect ass perched on the edge of your desk.

“Surprise?” He grinned.

You smiled tiredly and practically collapsed in his arms.

“What are you doin’ here?” You hummed as he kissed you hello.

“I couldn’t let my baby starve. I brought you lunch.”

“Boy, don’t you know you supposed to lead with that?! I’m sitting here kissing you and there’s some perfectly good food for me to eat?”

He made you a croissant breakfast sandwich at the coffee shop. It was kind of your favorite and he always made it with turkey bacon. You eat together and bask in each other’s company. It didn’t seem to matter how long you were together, you could always find something to talk about, could always find ways to make each other laugh. When he pulled you onto his lap and moved your braids out of the way to press kisses to your neck you turned to goo in his hands. He made you so unbelievably soft.

“I have another little surprise for you.” He hummed between kisses.

“It it one of your cinnamon apple muffins? You know how I feel about those.”

He chuckled. “Not quite, but I’ll make sure to bring one when I pick you up. I was thinking we could get out of town tonight. Go to the city. Maybe catch a movie?”

“I’m sorry? You actually don’t want to sit up all nice pacing and sniffing with your wolf senses while your beautiful girlfriend goes under appreciated?”

“Very funny.” He snorted rolling his eyes. “C’mon. I got Brian and Geoff to take care of things for the night. I just want to spend some time with you. What do you say?”

“You know damn well that’s all I want in the world. Of course I say yes.”

You spend the rest of your lunch break trying not to tip backwards in your spinny office chair while kissing each other senseless. His lips on your neck and jaw...the small spot behind your ear.

“I should get back to work. I need to prep myself on my next client.” You hummed.

You were sitting in his lap, arms and legs wrapped securely around him with zero care in the world to release him back into the world. Neither did he apparently.

“Mmmm, no.” He whined nipping at you jaw.

“Listen here big alpha, I have to be presentable. Can’t have you marking me up. We’ve got tonight for that.”

“What If I want to do it now?”

Honestly this man was beginning to be trouble.

“Ugh i hate you.” You groaned pulling his lips right back to yours.

“You wish.” He grunted hands reaching roughly to tug at your hips.

There’s another knock on the door just when you’re starting to get worked up all over again. Is was like the worst of dejavu in the world.

“Ma’am, your uh three-thirty is here?” Ashley called hesitantly.

You peered down at him where he was staring back at you with that cocky ass grin of his.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed de-straddling his waist.

You turn to find your jacket only for a sharp whack to come across your ass stilling you completely. You turn over to peer at him and you really can decide whether to hit his face or sit on it.

“Too much?”

You snorted. “Not enough. Don’t try slapping this ass until you know what to do with it.”

Shawn got up out of your chair and grabbed his car keys off your desk. He reached for the door handle to prop it open for you like a gentlemen or some shit.

“If there’s one thing we both know is that I most certainly know what to do with it. I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”

That man would surely be the death of you.

****

“Can we get popcorn?” You asked, arms wrapping tightly around his bicep.

“‘Course we can, honey.”

“And nachos?”

“Sure.”

Hmm.

“Annnnnnd a pretzel?”

He smiled at you and kissed your cheek and you damn near swooned.

“Order whatever you want baby. The night is ours.”

“Did you hear that?” You asked directly to the teenager running the food stand that had not a care in the world about your life. “My mans got money.”

“If only we all could be so lucky.” The angsty teen deadpanned.

“She’s a doctor by the way. I just own a coffee shop that people come to because there’s no starbucks in town.” Shawn snorted.

The teen was not very excited by your love. Rude.

“That is truly a harrowing tale. Would you like to order?”

Kids.

The movie was good. You spent your time between snacks and cuddling into Shawn’s side. You couldn’t believe how much you could miss someone , didn’t even know it was possible to feel as full and happy as you did when the two of you were together. And it helped that Shawn was relaxed too. The past few weeks he had paced the length of his room hundreds of times, tension just coming off of him in waves. And when he hadn’t been doing that he’d been running perimeter checks like a mad man. He oftentimes would do them at two or three in the morning, the times he’d never ask the rest of the pack to do. It meant that sometimes you woke up to him not being there, and it would be impossible for you to fall back to sleep until he came home. Hard times for the pack tended to translate to hard time for you. This is what happens when you date a werewolf ladies.

“Can we spend the night at my place?” You asked softly when the movie had ended and you were exiting the theater with his arm wrapped around you.

He frowned. “I don’t know about that, babe. I should really be at the house in case something happens.”

“Yes, but you’re just a call and a couple hop skips away from the house anyway. Maybe we could be together for a change without someone’s super sonic hearing getting in the way.”

“I told you they don’t listen.” He assured you for the umpeenth time.

“And I told you that I am too intelligent to be that naive.” You snorted. “Pleeeeease?”

Shawn might be a wolf but you had some puppy dog eyes of your own on deck. Turns out they were just as irresistible. Go you.

“Let me call and check in, okay? No promises!”

You beam at him and press a kiss to his cheek as he leads you outside. Outside the night air is the perfect temperature. Cool enough, but not cold. It’s not raining, so while Shawn talks boring business with Brian, you walk a few feet away from him just to look up at the sky. You teeter playfully in your heels and just sort of walk aimlessly around still within close proximity to the theater. The sky was so beautiful that you stumbled slightly and almost knocked into a group of guys heading straight for the entrance. One of them catches your arm and makes sure you’re up straight.

You giggled slightly. “My bad. I was just looking up at the sky and didn’t even see where I was going. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re alright, sugar. You okay?” He asked a look in his eyes that had your spidey senses tingling.

You nodded. “Yep. Thank you. Have a nice night.”

The crowd comes to a stop as the guy does and suddenly you’re faced with a group of six or seven men that immediately make you feel uncomfortable.

“What are you doing tonight, baby? Why don’t you come see the movie with us?” He asked hand still on your arm.

You don’t have your mace on you, because werewolf boyfriend tended to trump that nowadays.

“No thank you I’ve already seen my movie.” You smile slightly and tug at his grip.

“What you don’t like white guys or something? We no good for you, baby?”

Well that was just incredibly ironic. A part of you wanted to say, usually, yes, but even you didn’t love to tackle a big group of men in public. It’s maybe a forty-five second conversation, but it feels like hours, and surely any woman could relate. There’s this innate sense to shrink in on yourself, to take up less space, to be anything other than what you are. The survivalist in you is already looking at the space on either side of you that isn’t occupied by a man, tried to figure out how hard it might be to run away. His friends certainly aren’t going to stop him, and you had no clue just the lengths he would go through to make his point.

At first you don’t even see Shawn. The only thing you see is the flash of red from his buttoned up shirt as he steps in to easily break the hold on the guy’s hand. You don’t feel nearly as bad about the ease of it knowing the whole super-not exactly human strength thing. The relief when he’s there is immediate and infinite. Your stomach had dropped and your throat had thickened. But, with Shawn there you knew nothing would ever happen to you. He wouldn’t let it.

“Excuse me? I don’t think she wants to be touched by you.” Shawn spat. “So, why don’t you back the fuck up.”

“Aye man we were just talking! What are you her fucking bodyguard?”

“Doesn’t matter who I am, now does it? A piece of shit like you puts his hands on someone when they don’t want it, I’m the guy who asks you to move on before I kick your ass.”

Said piece of shit felt much more confident with his group of friends around. He stepped to Shawn with at least three inches of height difference and not nearly the muscle mass. And that’s before you got to the fact that he was kind of an alpha.

“Bro why don’t you get your own bitch and stop--”

Shawn’s eyes flashed red immediately. Bright red. And before you’re even aware of it, he lifts the guy off his feet by his throat and sends him flying into his friends. You’ve never seen anything like it. Shawn turns to you and hands you his car keys and he looks livid, he looks...not completely human.

“Baby go get in the car.” He murmured, jaw clenched.

The group of guys are all collectively shitting themselves though and Shawn looks like he might not let the guy leave on anything but a stretcher.

“Hey, c’mon. Let’s go. I don’t need you to defend my honor.” You murmured tugging on his arm. “Please?”

“No one is ever going to speak about you like that in front of me. Ever.”

He turned, hell bent on doing damage, when you grabbed at the back of his shirt to pull him back to you.

“Please! I wanna go home, okay? Now!” You yelled.

He peered at you, his nostrils flared and his eyes were still red. But, it was you. So, he took a deep breath and another before he turned calmly back to the guy. You watched him squat down where the guy was clutching at his neck and coughing, which seemed just a bit dramatic in your estimation.

“If I ever see you again? If you ever think a negative thought about her again? I will rip your throat out with my teeth? K? K.”

He patted him on the leg and then reached for your hand, finally going back to the safety of the car. You hand him the keys and Shawn starts to drive you home, the events previously leaving you quiet and in a daze. Shawn peers back and forth between you and the road. When his hand comes to rest on your leg, you flinch and it sends a look of hurt across his face.

“You’re afraid of me.” He mumbled, pulling his hand back.

Shawn’s worst fear in the world was you being afraid of him. He constantly tried to not get too worked up, to not appear angry, or anything too strictly on the wolf side of him. He never talked about it, but you had a feeling it had to do with the fact that you were human,and that he was terrified of hurting you. You also kind of thought he might still think there was something that could make you run away from him. It would take time to prove him wrong.

“No.” You assured him reaching to pull his warm palm between both of yours. “I swear I’m not. I’m just still a little spooked by the situation.”

“You promise?”

You pressed your lips to his fingers and brought his palm up to your face.

“I promise.”

He frowned over at you. “I’m so sorry. I was on the phone with Brian and I didn’t even notice. I should have been there sooner, and it never would have happened.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. You shouldn’t have to be with me every waking second so that a man shouldn’t feel the need to harass me. That’s on him. Not us.”

Shawn drives the rest of the way home. You couldn’t help but notice that when he arrived at the house he pulled into the driveway instead of parking on the street, a telltale sign that he was spending the night.

You peered over at him with wide eyes.

“You’re staying?”

He turned the key to the off position and leaned against the middle console to press his lips to yours.

“Of course, I am.”

There’s a bit of a routine that the two of you follow. Shawn brushes his teeth while you put your head scarf on to keep your braids tucked away. He tugs off his clothes and puts them in the hamper by the door, because you see each other so often now that clothes are bound to end up split between places. He uses your face wash because you both have combination skin and you were nothing if not willing to share. You crawl into the right side of the bed and he crawls into the left. It’s perfect.

When you reach to crawl into his lap like normal, hell bent on “you time” before bed though, he presses you softly to the sheets. He kisses you with delicate pressings of his lips, hands rubbing up and down your sides. He won’t even bite your lip tonight, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.

“Nothing rough tonight, honey. Just want to worship you tonight. Wanna take care of you.” He hummed against your throat.

Who are you to tell him no?

His hands brush from your calves all the way up to your thighs and to your hips, propping them around him the way he wants. His lips are searching your body like he’s looking for any signs of damage, any reason to go back to that guy in the parking lot. But it’s also like he’s searching for something for him to heal.He’s so tender and slow that night that you think you took what making love could feel like for granted. There’s something special about the way that he kisses you as he moves within you, the way that he cradles your head in his palm, the way that he groans into your skin as if you could absorb the feeling of his own pleasure. It is just as intense as any time that he touches you, and yet it feels more potent somehow. More overwhelming.

“You’re so beautiful.” He huffed into your neck, hips spiraling out of control. “You feel incredible.”

Your arms are around his neck and he everytime he pulls out even the slightest amount your hips can’t help but cant up towards him. You need him right.

“Please. Please.” You whimpered.

“What do you want? Use your words baby girl.”

He tugged at your bottom lip with his thumb and you nibbled playfully at his digit before sucking it into your mouth. His hips falter and your thighs tighten in response.

“I want--want you to take me from behind. It’s always deeper that way.”

He groaned softly and kissed you till you were breathless, till your head was practically spinning and all you could think about was the taste of him.

“Only if you look back at me while I do it. Need to see these pretty eyes of yours” He hummed.

“Ok, ok. Just do it, please.”

He flips you so fast you’re left breathless, back arching and ass presented to him clear like a present. He rubs himself against you and taps incessantly at your clit with his dick. You almost cry. And then he’s pushing into you and it just goes exactly where you need it to, to the point where you’re moaning, high pitched and breathy into the air.

His hands tense on your waist.

“Jesus Christ the sounds you make.” He grunted. “Baby, I’m trying to take it slow tonight.”

You whined softly into your sheets peering back at him innocently. “Can’t help it. Just want you in me.”

His hands followed the curve of your body, gripping and squeezing you in all the right ways. He took a deep breath and pressed his body against yours. Your fingers intertwined and his hips nestled against you as he filled you up beautifully. You could feel his large, unnecessarily muscular thighs bracketing either side of your ass and his lips on your neck as he pushed into you so deep your toes curled. His hands came up to grip your boobs, fingers soft and warm. It felt so good you couldn’t stand it.

“Oh my god! Baby!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He hummed sucking a mark into your neck. “God, I love you.”

His hips piston in and out in rugged overwhelming lunges. He’s brushing against that part in you that makes your back arch, makes it feel like you can’t even breathe because it feels so good. You reach for his wrist just to stabilize yourself, but none of it matters when he’s hitting it like this. It’s love and it’s romantic and it’s beautiful but it’s still the greatest sex you’ve ever had. So when your leg starts to shake and his fingers are pulling your hips against him so good, you can only try not to shatter across the entire room as your orgasm takes you. And something magical happens when he bites into your shoulder and reaches his own high at the same time. It’s ecstasy. Pure fucking magic.

“Roll over baby please?” He whines when you both have the ability to breathe again.

You let him maneuver you onto your back. Even try not to throw a fit when he has to pitch the condom. And then he’s back. Wrapping your bodies in the blankets and nestling into you so soft and warm. His fingers cup your jaw, his eyes pore into you, and your stomach just fucking flutters away like the first time. Like it’s always the first time.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on.” He whispered. “Making love to you is like the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.”

You bit your lip and snuggled closer just to kiss him, just so you could hide your face for a few seconds from how overwhelmed he seemed to be able to make you feel. His arms wrapped around you have never made you feel safer, more protected, more loved.

“I love you.” You sighed. “No one could make me feel the way that you do. I just...I’m glad I found you.”

He hummed.

“Me too sweetheart. Me too.”

#shawn mendes #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes fluff #Shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes au #werewolf!shawn #werewolf au #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x reader #Shawn mendes x black reader #Shawn mendes x black woman

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musicnoots · 5 years ago

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Formulating the Plan - Storming Area 51 (1/3)

Band of Brothers

A/N: I kept my promise and wrote it. There are three parts to this.

Synopsis: The men of Easy Company look forward to storming the very famous Area 51, but first, they must formulate a plan.

Part 2 Part 3

Tags: @gottapenny @wexhappyxfew @higgles123 @croatianbagudna @medievalfangirl @bandofmarvels @dustyjjumpwings

A get together. Dick wanted a small, little get together with his closest friends. He wanted a nice evening with Nix, Speirs, Harry, and Buck in the backyard of his home with a couple of lemonades and some whisky for Nix. An enjoyable time with his friends as they talk about things going on in their lives until it got too late for them to sit outside, or until Nix fell asleep on the table.

They were sitting at the table in the backyard, leaning back and relaxing on the chairs as the stars twinkled from the above. Dick’s homemade lemonade sat in a pitcher on the table, half empty from hours of drinking it on end along with some mini quiches that Ron brought from Lip’s place. Oh, and not to mention a bottle of Vat 69 that Lew brought just for himself because he isn’t a lemonade kind of guy.

“Y’know,” Lewis took another sip of his whisky, “I’ve always wanted to go to Area 51.”

“You do know that place is closed to the public, right? It’s private government property.”

“Oh, private government property my ass, Dick.” He took another sip. “They have aliens there. God damn aliens.”

“Aliens?” Ron popped back into the conversation, scooting closer to the men and propping his elbows up on the table. This was serious business. Even more serious than his stolen silverware that was sitting in the cupboard at home.

“Yeah, aliens. I want to go to Area 51 so I can see those aliens.”

Aliens? Dick scoffed and sipped his lemonade. “Aliens aren’t real, Lew. Everyone knows that.”

“Uh—“ Now Buck came into the equation, setting his glass of lemonade down on the table very loudly just to attract attention. His eyes were laced with interest, his body becoming stiff at the subject. “Your opinion is wrong, Dick. Aliens are, in fact, real.”

“Oh, God. Not you, too, Buck.”

“I just wanna go to Area 51 to see those aliens—do you know what I would do just to see those aliens? Huh?” Lew said, his voice getting louder and louder to the point where you could tell that he was obviously drunk and serious about this. “I would break into Area 51. I don’t care if the government puts me in jail, prison, whatever! I just want to see those aliens.”

“You know what’s even better than seeing those aliens?” Ron spoke.“Bringing home one of those aliens.”

Lewis smiled like he had found his true calling. He pumped his arms out, spilling the rest of his whisky on the ground and grinning like a child after having found the golden egg during an egg hunt. “That is the greatest idea I have ever heard of.”

“We should do it!” Harry exclaimed and everyone but Dick followed in cheers and enthusiasm. Even Buck agreed which wasn’t expected of the UCLA graduate. Dick thought he was better than this.

“Okay, okay,” Dick interrupted the cheers and celebrations, “you guys are just joking, right? The last time someone tried to break into Area 51, they were shot. And besides, there are no aliens. It’s just an open training range for the Air Force.”

Ron placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, I’m Ron Speirs. I can’t die.”

“Don’t listen to the Dick, he’s just a nonbeliever,” Buck said. “So, when are we going to break into the place?”

“How about tomorrow? We meet up here in the morning and go straight to Nevada,” Lewis said.

“No,” Dick quickly shut him off, “no, no, no, no. You guys are not meeting here to go to on your alien hunting trip. This is my house, and I do not encourage this any further. You guys are going to get yourselves killed.”

“Not with Ron we won’t!” Lewis smirked, and Dick rolled his eyes. He knew that Dick would allow them to meet at his place, the man can’t say no when it comes to his favorite whisky drinker. “So we’ll just meet here at five a.m. sharp, leaving at five-thirty. Make sure you have whatever you need to break in.”

“Who’s going to drive you there?”

That was the problem. Now, Buck would drive because he had the biggest car out of all of them, but then Lewis wanted to have a getaway vehicle so they can escape swiftly without getting caught. It had to be someone who obviously didn’t want to go but would also be willing to drive them to dang place.

Ron raised his hand in the air. “I have an idea. I’ll call Lip.”

Oh, God. Not lip. Dick felt bad for the poor man. Everyone knew he was everyone’s mother, and he would never say no it came from Speirs. He’d do anything if you gave him a viable answer.

When Ron left the table to get on the phone with Lipton, Dick was ready to give a long lecture to the men. What were they thinking? Did they really think they were going on an adventure to find something that didn’t exist? Aliens? Really? Dick honestly expected this out of Nix more than anyone else, a conversation created off of being drunk and sleepy at the same time. “Please tell me you guys aren’t really going to Area 51. Please,” he pleaded, and no one laughed. Or looked sincere.

Everyone was serious. Dead serious. Harry wasn’t laughing and joking like his usual self, and even Buck didn’t say anything. They were all looking at Dick like he had just doubted their mastermind of a plan.

“Dick, stop telling us that we can’t go!” Lewis slurred, trying to pat Dick’s shoulder but just ended slapping it. “I know you’re jealous, but if you want to come with us, then just say so! We have more room in the van for a couple more people, so you’re more than welcome to join us!”

“No.” Then Dick turned to Buck. “Please tell me that you aren’t going.”

Buck shook his head as a no. “Sorry, Dick, but I really want to see those aliens.”

“God, you believe in them, too?”

“Aliens, Dick!” Lewis exclaimed, waving his hands around in a drunken manner. It was hard to tell if this really was his true passion or just the alcohol talking. “God damn fuckin’ aliens! Tell me you don’t want to see them. Tell me you don’t want to see what the government has been hiding from us all this time.”

“I don’t want to see the aliens.”

“Wrong!” Lewis yelled so that the whole neighborhood knew what they were talking about. “You do want to see the aliens! You do want to go! You just don’t know it yet.” It’s been fifteen minutes, and Dick still doesn’t know who’s talking to him: the real Lewis Nixon or drunk Lewis Nixon. They sound the same at this point.

Buck reached over to pick up a mini quiche and popped it into his mouth. “Dick, just go with us. Lew probably isn’t going to leave without you,” he said with his mouth full, little bits of quiche falling on his lap, and Dick briefly questioned if Buck was also drunk, judging from the fact that he agreed with Lewis.

He simply shook his head and sighed, placing his glass of lemonade on the table with a loud clank. His boys were about to get themselves arrested, or even worse, killed all because Lew wanted to go to Area 51 in a drunken confession. Perhaps if Lew had drank lemonade instead, then this conversation wouldn't have happened in the first place, and then Ron wouldn’t be arranging rides from Lip on the phone.

When Ron did come back from the phone call, he didn’t look ecstatic, but he also did not look disappointed. “So, here’s the deal. Lip said he can drive us there, but he can’t drive us back.”

“Good enough!” Lewis exclaimed. “So, tomorrow morning, five a.m., we meet here and take off for alien central. Who else are we bringing?”

“I think we should get that little rat boy—what’s his name?”

“Liebgott?” Harry said, and Ron nodded.

“Yes, Liebgott! And take his friend too! The nerd from Harvard.”

“Wait, take?” Dick interrupted, but it was important this time. “Please don’t tell me you aren’t going to kidnap them.”

Lewis laughed, which made Dick nervous and confirmed his suspicions. “Oh, did you really think we were going to ask them? Hey, we’re going to Area 51, wanna come? Pfft. You know me, Dick. I don’t do that.” Then he turned back to the other three men. “Okay, so we got Liebgott, and Webster. Who else are we taking?”

“The angry Italian one,” Ron said.

“Perconte?”

“No! The one with the square jaw!”

“Oh! Guarnere!”

“What about the other angry one?” Harry asked, mouth full of quiche with crumbs falling from the corners of his lips. “Not the one that bites people. He scares me. The one with the nice eyebrows.”

“Toye? Yeah, we’re bringing him, too,” Lew said while pouring himself another glass of Vat 69 and looked back up at Dick who had nothing but a look of disapproval smeared on his face. “There’s always room for you, too, Dick. I’m not beggin’ for you to come with us, but it would mean a lot if you did. This is important to me.”

This is important to me? What part of this was important to Lewis? The aliens part or the feeling of breaking into Area 51? Whatever it was, Dick was still not convinced to join their alien crusade because not only did he think it was wildly stupid, but it was incredibly dangerous, and he wasn’t about to put his life on the line for this.

He simply shook his head. “No, and if you get in trouble, Nix, don’t call me. I’m not going to be responsible for you, or any of you, really. You all put yourselves into this situation, and I hope you all know the danger that lies ahead.”

Lewis rolled his eyes and shrugged as if he really didn’t care about Dick’s opinion and what the man had to say about the plan. “Suit yourself, Dick.”

If he wanted to bring Dick along with them, then he’ll take him. Dick doesn’t even have to know about it, it was just another step in Lewis’ plan to Area 51, and that’s how Dick Winters ended up in the backseat of Lip’s minivan at five in the morning the next day.

#band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fic #band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #dick winters #lewis nixon #ronald speirs #ron speirs #buck compton #harry welsh

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ivyveil · 5 years ago

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Love is the Punchline 2

the one where you are drunk and want pizza, but your fingers call Harry instead

A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here)

Your heartbeat demanded to be felt through the entire body, your attention memorized by the motion of right to left from your chest to your fingertips.

They were tapping irregularly on the dining table, as if they instinctively knew the beat of your heart breaking. As it had been all week, truthfully, but since work had ended for the week, your thoughts were dominated by the shadows you had hoped left. Liquor didn’t help, particularly the cup in front of you that sullenly watched you make an idiot of yourself in front of your potted plants.

“The cactus doesn’t care, Mr. Grey Goose,” you reasoned, leaning back on your chair slightly to point at the plant, who seemed generally unimpressed by your antics. “He’s a prick anyways. You care too much what others think, just be you.” You blinked, soulfully, at the cup, trying to mentally send it the emotional strength you were lacking.

The cup said nothing, but you felt the stare go from critical to one of pity, the exact emotion you were drinking alone to avoid. Company would just feel sorry for you, and you didn’t know if you could handle the atmosphere of sympathy. It was your fault, anyway.

If anything, you deserved the harsh disapproval of alcohol. Perhaps you even deserved his silence, though it felt incredibly wrong. You traced a line of dew down the side of a water glass, which hadn’t been depleted after an hour of your Official Weekend Breakdown. It had swooped on you quickly. Your morning had been normal, and at work you even managed to forget about the situation for a few hours. When you got back to your home, you had decided to undergo a quick cleaning.

Your closet was under siege, shoes littering the floor from when you kicked them off without bothering to check they went into proper storage. The Questions You Didn’t Like To Ask had been lurking in the corners of your mind, but you managed to set them off for the most part. Who had the strength to go through all that mental analysis, when the answers couldn’t be properly found? You didn’t know what Harry was feeling, because he didn’t tell you. Nothing more to it.

Then, you saw them. A few shirts folded up in the corner, stacked high and surrounded by a fancy ass designer cologne you had never bought before. You still recognized it, and the bitter pain flooded your senses again. The loopy writing of ‘Styles’ on the pocket confirmed it (as if you need confirmation that the silk Gucci shirts weren’t yours, being stuck in the midst of random 5k shirts you had collected over the years).

The entire situation still confused you, whether it was a proper fall-out or just a miscommunication. How to go about solving it was a mind fuckery, leading down roads of self-criticism you couldn’t deal with at the moment.

Your head swam a bit above the current of drunkness to realize the idea of ordering pizza was remarkably brilliant. However, there were a few flaws that kept you from going straight to your phone.

It involved sitting upright, getting out of your chair, and moving to the front door to then converse with the pizza man, collect the pizza box, hand over the money (which then meant you would need to go get money before reaching the door) before coming back safely inside. Which was a problem, because the ceiling kept becoming the floor, and the floor itself kept swaying.

Your body felt smooth, in a numb, little-bit-over tipsy sort of way. Your day had started the same as they had been for the past week, without any texts from him. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Harry to go a few days without contact, his job being fairly demanding, but the situation at hand made you feel as though it was something more. Something more than not having the time to send a quick text.

Not that you had sent one, either. You had written plenty, enough to possibly draft a book called Regrets and Texts, an Autobiography. But none had made it through the consideration pile to be properly sent.

Sometimes there simply weren’t words to explain yourself. (Which might have been a lie, because you had three perfectly good words, but they did a lousy job at making up for your actions). You groaned, loudly, like an injured cow. Unattractive, and somewhat cathartic, because after you got it out of your system you were able to take another sip from your drink. Your eyes squished together as you got it down, your tongue sticking out in half-disgust and half-instinct.

“Why does it hurt so good?” you groaned, keeping your eyes closed. Your cactus mumbled, “What a mess.” You agreed. Everything echoed of repetition; your daily life was holed by what was missing. You didn’t know what could fill it, you were frustrated by the isolation you had trapped yourself in and the physical borders that kept you from where you wanted to be.

Harry wasn’t everything in your life, not even close. You had a multitude of friends, a caring family, those people at work you talk but never tell anything personal to, and you had a lot of hobbies that typically kept you busy around town. You loved Harry, but you weren’t usually constantly consumed by the thought of him.

Harry wasn’t your air, he never was, but for the past few days you couldn’t fucking breathe.

Essentially, you had only begun to realize that you had collaborated with your demons, your own fears, to keep you away from the possibility of happiness. All for what? The fear of being vulnerable, the fear of opening up and saying, “Come take me as you can find me, Harry, this is all I am and I hope to God it’s enough.”

Instead, all you had to say for yourself was, “Don’t.” All you had to text was, “No.”

All he had to say was that he loved you, and put himself out there. Twice. Which you knew, from having plenty of romance-oriented conversations with him in the past, was a big deal. He wasn’t the type to make a huge move, too wrapped up in having to know it would go perfectly before he even considered making a tiny move. He knew he was phenomenal on stage and with his words, but sometimes as a person, there were doubts.

You shifted in your seat and regretted it immediately. Perhaps it was all in your imagination (who knew, at this point), but the sloshing around in your stomach was enough convincing to make you dead-set on finding some starch to consume, and fast. And honestly, fuck the saltines in your pantry – you needed some good, gooey, cheesy pizza to get through tonight.

Your hands, finally, made their way towards your phone, and you opened up the dial app, your fingers clicking on their own accord.

Sometimes our bodies know how to fix our lives better than we do. After all, that’s how you ended up hanging over the toilet at your senior prom, vomiting for 30 minutes. It had meant you lost your chance at hooking up with the cute guy from your physics course, but later in the year you found out he had been sneaking shady stuff in the boys’ drinks to try and up his chances with some of the girls.

If it hadn’t been for your inability to hold a proper amount of drink, you would’ve most likely victim to that type of absolute, unforgivable douche-baggery. Your body was looking out for you, you reckoned.

Now was a similar moment, it seemed. Your body had leaped at the chance, saw your incapable state and just went with pure instinct to try and straighten out your course.

So, instead of the friendly, middle-aged woman named Andrea at your local pizza shop (who you occasionally went to Thursday Knitting Club with, and who knew more about your emotional life than perhaps even you did) it was a deep, slow, masculine voice.

You froze in your chair, feeling aggressively more sober than moments before.

“Hi, this is Harry. Leave meh a message, I’ll get back to yeh when I can.”

Beep.

Stupefied, you pulled your hand back and looked at the screen. The photo you took of him at a carnival was shining back at you, his face painted like a tiger. It had been a fun few days, especially since a family member of his needed a quick babysitter. Walking around with Harry and a tiny child clasped between the both of you had sent your emotions all over for the next month and a half. You’re pretty sure your friends who had kinda picked up on your thing for Haz had been truly tested by your maternally-driven rants for that portion of your life.

“Noooo,” you groaned, putting your phone back down and propping your elbows on the table. You put your head in your hands, mumbling several profanities. The tiny voice in your mind wondered, simultaneously, why you hadn’t hung up yet. You told the voice to mind its own damn business.

“I’m sorry, Haz, I meant to order Andrea. Or the pizza, not the lady. Like, human trafficking is fucked,” you began, squishing your cheeks between your hands and looking at your fridge. His face was too much to look at, it would be too real. Although his cheeks didn’t have pink, sparkly whiskers in real life, the idea was still prevalent.

You fell silent, toying with various words in your mouth and wondering if you would be able to properly speak this time.

“I’ve been thinking, a lot. Questions I don’t want to ask, about myself. They’re conversations with myself I’ve tried to avoid, at all costs, for years now.” A pause. Then, furthered confession.

“I don’t imagine you’re super interested in them, I don’t think I would be if I were you. I think I just hope you hear this and regret not texting me back. Which sounds super elementary once I’ve said it out loud, I mean, I guess I could’ve texted too. But what was I gonna say?” you drawled, gesturing outwards with an open palm to signify that no, you had nothing to say.

Which was a lie, but you hadn’t had much success in telling the truth as of late.

“You wanna know what’s really funny, Haz?” you stared out into nothing, as if you were truly speaking to him and had a momentary revelation. Completely fabricated, but in the haze of your mind it felt like a brand new concept all over again.

Your cactus was suffering from very deep, very tragic second-hand embarrassment in the corner.

“I wanna capture all your words. They’re so beautiful, you’re like a masterpiece and I just want to be there all the time. I wanna see you at like, 1:42 pm and see how the light goes differently ‘cross your face, as the day goes on. Am I making sense? Like, I want to see your morning hair and your afternoon stubble and how quiet you get at night. I’ve gotten pieces of it, but not in full.”

A moment’s pause, a quiet reflection.

“But that’s not what’s funny,” you admitted, sullenly. Your nails grew more interesting as the confession grew deeper, and you picked at them as you spoke. Your apartment was starkly silent, compared to the rush of noise you felt in your head.

“It’s funny how much I love you, that I love you so much my heart hurts and my eyes can’t help but cry because it’s overwhelming. I don’t think it’s strange, though, but it’s not like I’m well-equipped with this. So I end up pushing you away. That’s fucked up.”

You hiccuped, a sad smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“Really fucked,” you agreed with yourself, your fingers twirling around a loose piece of your hair again and again. Your phone didn’t have much to say back, so you pushed onward.

“I love you, so I’m trying to let go. I truly am, Haz, swear it, for you and I guess a little for me? You don’t deserve this, you know,” you gestured at yourself, eyes widening to emphasize your point.

You two had equally seen each other at some of the lowest times, in the worst situations. It was nothing new to have Harry see you breaking apart, and likewise vice versa. Yet, the idea of needing to be put-together in order to jump into something serious was engraved on your skull, the necessity of not needing someone else before having someone else.

“I can’t ignore my fear forever, that I have some secret I didn’t even know about. I don’t want to see the disappointment in your eyes, like I do in theirs. It would break me, Haz.

“It happens every time, I start off going steady with some guy and it’s great, I’m so happy. And I think maybe I’ve got it wrong, that love is possible for me. That it’s not just for our rom-coms and Ryan Goslings of the world.

“But then I start seeing it. And it’s the worst, you know? ‘Cause I can’t stop it, it’s just a byproduct of being with me. The disillusionment starts in their eyes, it’s when they find me. It’s like a curtain’s been lifted and the guy started tearing down my walls because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do.

“And it turned out, what was behind it wasn’t what he was looking for. Which has me freaked, because how is my true self different from what I’m aware of - I’m not projecting a false image of myself out there, right? I’m just altogether too much, and not enough. And I don’t know how to fix me.”

You traced the condensation of your water, tears glassing up your vision. This was a portion of insecurity you hadn’t fully shown Harry before, mostly because it felt like a massive pity-fest and you knew he would listen with large, puppy eyes and hold you until your chest didn’t feel so tight. Nothing would be solved, though, so it didn’t seem worth mentioning.

“And I don’t want that for us,” you confessed, choking back the urge to properly cry, “I like it when you look at me and I don’t notice any change in your eyes. It’s just you and it’s just me.”

You sniffled, the tears escaping nonetheless and rolling down your cheeks. You smudged them off with hurried hands before they went much further, wanting to fully focus on the task at hand.

“For me, I don’t know if I could’ve, if I could’ve survived seeing us break apart, like that. Dramatic, yeah, but I’m just tryin’ to be honest,” you took a deep breath.

“Yeah, honest. But I suppose we have, now, haven’t we? Because I couldn’t say the right words when it mattered.”

You laughed, a feeling of foolishness washing over your soul and delighting you in the most tragic of ways. How sad, drunkenly calling the boy you loved when you had told him, only a week ago, that he wasn’t worth the risk of going for it? A mess of hypocrisy, you knew you had called your friends’ exes horrible names for doing a lot less.

What was most frustrating, was you clearly could see how unproductive your mind-set was. You knew the proper tips and training for taking care of yourself (the amount of bubbles that had been born in your bathroom the past two days alone could fill the entire sky, you swear) and you recognized your self-worth. It wasn’t a situation of having a devastating wreckage of insecurity to battle, but more like when it was called into question, your ego hesitated a bit too much to claim the title as Worthy.

Letting out a bitter sigh, you put your head on the counter, next to the phone that was recording one of your lowest lows and transferring it in waves to the man who used to help you back up. And all he would do is realize how fortunate he was, to have escaped the mess you felt colliding against your rib cage and into your throat.

Kissing him had felt like you had never kissed anyone, before. He felt assured, comfortable. It had taken a lot to help ease you into ‘romantic’ situations before, but with Haz it felt more like an expression than a deed. More like a physical manifestation of how he made you feel, how you wanted to share that love through your lips. How you wanted to draw his feelings out from his. It was a symphony of simplicity, which was mind-blowing because you had never imagined it could be that good without the nervous laughter and self-conscious puddle of anxiety beforehand.

“I heard you crying,” you murmured, half-unaware you were speaking out loud.

“I heard it, and I didn’t know what to do. And that scared me, maybe even more than how I feel for you in general. Because I always thought I would be able to go and fix things, situations, people...but all I did was listen. All I did was listen,” a lump in your throat began to obstruct the passage of your voice, you knew he could hear the tears coming now, faster “and I hate myself for that. I hate that I couldn’t have been there for you, when I’m trying do to right for the both of us. I just can’t tell anymore, where the lines are. Where I love you as a friend and love you as something more.”

Your voice cracked by the end, a breakage of both spirit and will. Your chest felt tight, your heart had given up long ago, sitting in its cage and chain-smoking until the doomsday. Nothing could be salvaged from this, speaking to him in that state would only prolong the suffering between you both.

“I gotta go, Haz,” you apologized softly. “I need my pizza, and you need to stop listening to me word-vomit everything when it’s frankly too late in the game.”

Your finger hesitated over the red ‘end’ button, unable to bring itself to do it before you could plead for a sober chance to discuss everything.

“Just text me, okay? I don’t want this to change things between us, I want us to look at each other.”

With that, a singular beep signaled the end of your Next Big Regret. Or what would be, when you remembered in the morning.

You groaned again, moving to properly call the pizza shop, being very conscious of the buttons you pressed along the way. Maybe you’d make it a deep crust, you deserved it.

“Thanks, have a nice night,” you grunted, accepting the box and handing over what was most likely an absurd tip for the 10-minutes-late delivery. You didn’t particularly care, half-hoping the karma would impact your life in the future and maybe you would win the lottery. There’s no harm in trying, after all.

When you shuffled back to your dining room, your phone screen had just turned to black again. Racing over, dumping the box on the table, you reached out and snatched up the device quickly, feeling your heart beat back to life and pittering up your throat.

When wouldn’t nerves be the absolute death of you?

One missed call from “H”.

You stared at the notification for a long time, allowing it to register in your psyche before unlocking your phone. Calling him back meant the continuation of a conversation you were, at the time, very pleased to be having one-sided. It took away the possibility of hearing his response in real life, in hearing his breath and knowing the thoughts in the intricate patterns of his sighs and groans.

The drunk part of you urged your fingers to hit ‘call back’ so that any fuck ups could be blamed on the vodka, as opposed to your sober self who would have no where to hide behind. It was quite the conundrum.

Another notification.

This time, Voice Mail from “H”.

You hit “Listen.”

He sounded tired. Really tired.

“Hey. I, I just got a message from yeh. Dunno if you’re awake still and just didn’t wanna answer. Or if yeh fell asleep. Or got pizza, I don’t know, fuck.”

Silence.

An exhausted laugh.

“I truly...God, Y/N, I truly don’t know what to say. Those men were properly insane, to not love every bit of you. I wish I could say y’ could have all of me, but I...”

A lump rose in your throat, eyes filling up quickly with tears. You sat down as he was speaking, covering your eyes with a hand and shaking your head. Hearing his voice again, was just too real. Everything felt overly saturated and dramatic, but that little voice in your head reminded you this was what love was, sometimes. Just on another level from all else, the craziness is just a slice of the experience.

“When you said we wouldn’t be worth it, that shattered me, love. Not love, sorry. Didn’t mean to, slipped.”

He groaned, and you could practically see him in a hotel room somewhere, sitting at the business desk over his phone, rubbing his hands down his face. The desk lamp would be glowing, the only light source in the room.

“Yeh can’t say we’re friends and just friends, and call me with this. Isn’t fair. Not when I’m tryin’ to...to get over you.”

You knew, you knew that. The guilt was already creeping up your lungs.

“I still love yeh. But I can’t love y’ouand know you love me, and not...it’s just….I can’t. ‘M sorry. I also don’t think it’s best we talk over phone, yeah? Just complicates things.”

The message ended.

Your apartment was cloaked in silence, a deep depression. Harry had been so rational, when you were the one fighting for the title. You were utterly confused as to what you were supposed to do now, after such emotional turmoil. Your drunken mind was bitter, mostly at yourself.

Why wasn’t Harry worth fighting for, to you? A day ago, you had realized how much you would’ve sacrificed for him, if given the proper chance, and then it had occurred to you that the chance had come and gone. And for some odd reason, you hadn’t recognized the flashing neon lights until it was too late.

“He still loves me,” you whispered, curling up in the seat and blinking at the wall.

You stayed like that for a few more minutes, mind racing a million miles a second. Eventually, an idea came to mind. One you felt would solve everything, would change the tragedy to something salvageable.

Maybe the flashing lights were still there, ‘late’ was better than ‘never.’ You had previously only wanted Harry to see you for your strengths, for him to see you in radiant light and want nothing but your positives. Perhaps to show more of your weaknesses, it could make the situation more fucking realistic. You huffed, silently telling yourself off for not registering how insufferable the idea of giving up loving Harry was. This was worth it, it moved your soul into something more aligned, closer to the emotion of feeling ‘okay.’ And maybe that’s all you could do, fight to feel more okay. Do the actions that made your heart feel lighter and true, and let the outcomes fall as they may.

The next morning, your bank account had a flight ticket to America charged. The price was an absolute joke, but if that’s what it took to get to Harry, love was going to be the punchline.

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

A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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the-quiet-winds · 6 years ago

Text

Clouds of Rain and Sun (part two)

i’m blown away you guys.

i was so scared to post part one bc i thought no one would want to read it, but the response was just...amazing.

thank you all. @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts poured our hearts into this and you guys seem to be loving it. thank you, honestly.

anywho, this is part two and uh... trigger warning: discussions of sexual assault, assault in the current time (hopefully that’s enough without spoiling it all).

[Part 2: Prevailing Westerlies and Falling Pressure]

jane is woken the next morning by the door opening and she yawns, propping herself up on the pillows. it isn’t katherine who enters the room, however, but another of her ladies in waiting, Lady Agnes. Lady Agnes was an older woman who had attended the previous two queens, stern and no-nonsense, and she was wearing her usual expression of general haughtiness as she places a breakfast tray down on jane’s bed.

“good morning, your highness,” she says briskly. “my sincerest apologies for the lateness of your breakfast. your newest lady in waiting was supposed to bring it to you, but she overslept. don’t worry, i have already dealt with her.” she shakes her head with an air of annoyance. “only been here one night and already causing disruption.”

jane fights to hide her surprise at those words and puts on a face of false seriousness. “ah, yes, thank you, lady agnes. you are dismissed.” the lady curtsies perfectly and exits the room.

jane can barely stomach the breakfast before her, thinking of katherine, hoping that agnes hadn’t been too hard on her. unfortunately, she remembers what happened last time someone fell short on their duties. later, she decides, she will send someone to fetch katherine for her.

jane eats as much of her breakfast as she can stand, forcing it down with the knowledge that she needs to get better as soon as she can. after over two weeks of bed rest she couldn’t wait to get back to normal life, not least to get to take care of her son. mostly, though, she misses the company. her ladies in waiting weren’t necessarily perfect, but some were good companions in their own rights, and she can’t help but feel that, with just a little bit of coaxing, katherine would be brought out of her shell.

it isn’t all that much later when the physician enters, a kindly older gentleman by the name of egert who had served the tudor household since catherine of aragon had first arrived from spain.

“good morning, your highness,” he greets with a bow. “how are you feeling this morning? we should be getting you out of bed fairly soon, if you’re feeling up to it that is, perhaps even this morning?”

jane smiles, relieved. “that sounds perfect. I’d like to get out of this bed as soon as possible.”

“then we shall try our very best to make that happen,” the physician says with a twinkle in his eye. he hands jane a small bottle containing the medicine she had been taking every morning; a herbal remedy containing sage and lavender. “drink up, your highness, and then i shall bleed you before we try to get you out of bed.”

jane sighs but agrees. the sooner she could get out of this bed, the better.

she drinks, she bleeds, then egert finally feels confident in her ability to stand. jane fights a pained smile at remembering last night’s expedition.

“how far can i go?” she asks once she found her balance.

egert looks her over critically, then softens. “probably not farther than your son’s room, but anywhere in between.”

she smiles, knowing exactly whose room was next to edward’s.

egert packs up his tools into his medicine bag, then sends jane a kind smile. “would you care to go on a walk, your highness? i could accompany you to the young prince’s chamber before i leave to make sure everything goes smoothly. I’m sure edward will be delighted to see his mother.”

“yes, that would be lovely,” jane agrees. she would love to see her son, but also one particular lady in the next room.

the walk down the stairs is fairly quiet and slow, but jane can’t help but light up when she finally reaches edward’s room. egert bows deeply and sets off, knowing another of jane’s ladies would assist her to walk back.

jane waits for several moments, cradling her young son and holding him close, before kissing his forehead and setting him down. she slowly makes her way to the next room over and knocking quietly after making sure the corridor was empty.

“katherine?”

there’s no reply from inside, and jane wonders if katherine is somewhere else until quiet footsteps sound from the other side of the door. it slowly opens and katherine peeks around the door, eyes red and puffy. “your highne-” she begins before suddenly remembering. “jane. what can i do for you?” her voice is shaky and she doesn’t meet jane’s eyes.”

jane frowns at her. agnes really did take things to far, she thought with a grimace.

very gently, she pushes katherine back into the room and closes the door behind her. “what happened, katherine?” she asks softly. when katherine doesn’t respond, jane places a hand on her upper arm. “kat, you can tell me. no harm will come to you for the truth or anything else.”

katherine is silent for a moment, before she lets out a quiet sniffle.

“i- it took me so long to get to sleep, and i guess by the time I finally did i was so tired that i didn’t wake up when i was supposed to, and then one of the other ladies, she-” katherine bursts into tears. “i’m sorry,” she sobs. “i don’t mean to get upset, i just...” she doesn’t finish her sentence, too overwhelmed by the tears streaming from her eyes.

a maternal instinct in jane’s mind clicks into place and she very carefully pulls katherine into a light embrace. “i know lady agnes can be very stern, dear, but whatever she said or did, it does not come from me.” she gently strokes her fingers up and down katherine’s back. “it’s alright, kat,” she whispers.

katherine just sits there in jane’s arms, body trembling slightly as she sobs. part of her mind registers how embarrassing it is to be crying like this in front of her queen, and the thought makes her sob even harder.

“lady agnes said,” she manages to choke out, “that you didn’t have use for lazy girls like me, and that you’d send me back to my step-grandmother’s house.”

“oh no, love, you do wonderful at your job.” jane takes what she says at face value first. “well wouldn’t you rather go back with your family? perhaps it isn’t so lonely.”

this only makes katherine tremble and shake more as she violently shakes her head. “katherine?” jane asks, noticing katherine’s change in emotion. “what’s wrong, dear?”

“don’t make me go back,” katherine practically whimpers. “please don’t make me.”

“katherine,” jane says softly, concern clear in her expression. “of course i won’t make you go back. but please, love, tell me what the matter is.”

katherine just shakes her head desperately, unable to speak.

jane, without ever lessening her grip on katherine, guides her over to the small and stiff bed by the wall, sitting them down.

“oh kat,” jane whispers. “i want to help you, just please tell me what i can do.” an odd and seemingly random thought occurs to her. “whatever it is, i will not judge you, or think of you any different, you have my honor.”

katherine takes a shaky breath and stares down at her hands. “my step-grandma’s secretary,” she begins quietly, voice trembling. “he- he told me we had a connection. and i didn’t want to, but he said we’d get married, and-” she stops, unable to say any more. jane stares, incredibly concerned. she was desperately hoping katherine wasn’t heading where jane thought she was with her story. “what happened, katherine?” she says softly. katherine chokes out a sob instead. “I can’t,” she hiccups. “don’t make me say it.”

“katherine,” jane suddenly says very seriously. “i’m going to ask you a question, alright? and you’re going to answer with yes or no.” she feels katherine stiffen against her, so she softens her tone. “my promise to you still stands, love, i won’t judge you, on my honor.” jane draws in a long, slow breath, really not wanting to know the answer but feeling the need to ask anyway. “did he ever...force himself on you?”

katherine is very, very still for several moments. then she gives the tiniest nod and jane’s heart breaks.

“oh, kat,” she breathes. “oh, love, i’m so sorry.” katherine practically shatters in her arms, the weight of finally telling someone what happened making the pain all too real again. she sobs desperately into jane’s shoulder as jane cradles her.

jane holds her close, letting her pour all of her pain out. “he can’t hurt you anymore,” jane murmurs comfortingly. “not while you’re here.” she gently tucks some of katherine’s wild hair behind her ear. “not as long as i’m queen.”

somewhere in katherine’s mind, she is screaming that ‘she is your queen, damn it,’ but she didn’t care, not at that moment.

jane feels like she is slapped in the face when she makes a seemingly random realization that should have been so clear. “kat, love,” she whispers very quietly. “this wasn’t the first time, was it.” it comes out as less of a question and more of a statement.

katherine manages a tiny head shake and jane’s heart sinks.

“nobody’s going to hurt you,” she whispers, almost fiercely. “i’ll make sure of it. nobody will ever hurt you again.”

katherine’s tears keep flowing, despite her feeling as if she couldn’t possibly have any left. she clings to jane, her mind completely ignoring the part of her that said it was completely unprofessional to act like this in front of her queen.

“it’s okay, love,” jane soothes. “i promise, you’re safe here.” her soothing and quiet voice gives way to a seething hiss. “none of those rotten bastards will ever lay a finger on you again.”

she hears katherine make an indistinguishable whimper and jane holds her slightly closer. without really thinking, she presses a light kiss into katherine’s hair.

there’s something about being in jane’s arms that feels safe and comforting, not restricting and suffocating like it can often feel. when she feels jane kiss the top of her head katherine is suddenly transported back to being very small, sat on her mother’s lap as she sewed and katherine watched, her mother absent-mindedly kissing the top of her head between stitches. katherine’s body loses almost all ability to keep herself up, becoming a dead weight in jane’s arms as her emotions keep her overwhelmed.

jane feels katherine relax into her hold, becoming nothing more than a slack form of tears, and jane feels a pull in her heart towards the young lady in waiting she met only yesterday. she can’t think of anything to say that she hasn’t already said, so she just kisses katherine’s head again and holds her, pouring as much love as possible into the embrace. “you’re safe here, love. always,” she accidentally mumbles aloud.

in between sobs and shaky breaths, katherine just about manages a tiny “thank you,” and jane promises to herself that anyone who dared to come near katherine would face the full wrath of a queen raining down on them. she rubs soothing circles on katherine’s back and soon katherine seems to have cried herself out, face still buried in jane’s shoulder,

that wrath, in fact, is tested only a few short days later.

jane, as instructed by her physician, was to take one lap around the top floor of the castle every day around three in the afternoon to stretch her legs. she is only about half way through her walk when she hears rustling from an old storeroom. she gets closer, and there is definitely something wrong.

she tears the door open and her jaw nearly drops. one of the stable boys, terrance, she thinks his name is, has katherine pinned against the wall, both hands held above her head. both of them are still fully clothed, which jane thanks every lucky star in the sky for.

terrance, however, has no idea that he is being watched, and goes back to hungrily kissing katherine, derogatory words falling from his lips whenever he pulled back for a breath.

katherine has her eyes squeezed shut desperately, body completely frozen in terror. there’s tear tracks on her cheeks and there’s an angry-looking red mark on her chin, as if she’d been grabbed tightly or maybe hit, jane isn’t sure which. anger surges through jane’s body.

“what’s going on here?” she practically spits, and terrance jumps back in surprise.

“y-your highness!” he stutters

terrance, naive and stupid terrance, tries to make it all roll in his favor. “it was her idea, miss!” he insists. “she practically begged me to do this, even though i knew it was wrong. you really must believe me, your highness.”

katherine knows what’s coming. she waits for the ‘adult’ of the conversation to begin their beseeching of her, the ‘seductress’, the ‘temptress’, or even more foul words.

“terrance,” jane begins, and her voice is dangerously even. “i could have you arrested for forcing yourself upon one of my ladies in waiting. if it weren’t for the fact it might hurt katherine, I would do it. but know this, terrance; if you ever even look in her direction ever again, I won’t hesitate to call the guards on you. do you understand me?”

terrance gapes at her, eyes dull and confused.

he splutters a few incoherent syllables, unable to even formulate a full acknowledgement before he bolts from the room.

jane’s chest heaves with anger as he leaves, which immediately diminishes when she looks at katherine, still frozen and stuck to the wall.

“katherine?” she quietly asks. “kat, love, can you hear me?”

katherine could hear her; she’d been hyper aware of her surroundings, waiting for the moment where jane blames her and katherine gets sent away in disgrace. she still believes it’s coming, and she can’t bring herself to move, not even turn her head, out of fear of what was going to happen next.

a horrible thought runs through her; maybe if she hadn’t tried to resist terrance and fight him off at the beginning then he could have taken what he wanted and be done by now, and then they wouldn’t have got caught. this was her fault, why did she even think trying to resist would work in the first place, she couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid-

katherine’s breathing escalates rapidly until she’s practically hyperventilating, body sinking to the floor as the energy to keep herself standing leaves her.

jane watches in horror as katherine’s back slides down the wall and she crumbles to the floor. she closes the door to the room and slowly sits down across from katherine.

“katherine? love?” jane tries again. “it’s jane, you’re okay, you’re alright,” she says in a calm, soft voice. “no one is going to hurt you now. he’ll never come near you again.” jane can still see the terror flashing through katherine’s eyes, so she gently puts a hand on one of katherine’s knees, thumb moving back and forth comfortingly.

“he will,” katherine chokes out. “they always do.” her shallow breaths are wheezing and painful and jane’s heart breaks for this girl. determination runs through her, though, and an idea comes to her as to how she could protect katherine.

“katherine, sweetheart,” she says softly. “how would you like to become my personal companion? your room would be moved next to mine, and you would accompany me during my day.” she was hoping first that her words were getting through to katherine, and secondly that katherine understood her meaning; if she was with jane, had jane’s supervision all day every day, then nobody would be able to hurt her again.

everything is still for several long seconds. then katherine gives the tiniest of silent nods and jane smiles slightly.

“i’ll arrange it immediately,” she says. but, in reality, ‘immediately’ she needs to help katherine calm down so that’s exactly what she tries to do.

“kat, love, can you take some deep breaths for me?” she forces herself to do the same, long and slow. “just match me, love, in and out.”

katherine chokes out a few more painful breaths, before taking a slightly longer one.

“that’s it,” jane coaches, “that’s so good, love. now again, in and out.”

katherine manages another breath and jane repeats her reassurances, over and over until katherine’s breathing is matching hers. katherine’s eyes had closed at some point, too focused on breathing to even try to see anything.

if she had opened her eyes at that moment, she would have seen jane, the all powerful queen of england, looking at her with kind eyes and the fondest of soft smiles.

“are you feeling any better now, love?” jane asks quietly, tucking some stray hair tenderly behind katherine’s ear. “be honest now,” she continues, “i want to make sure you’re really alright.”

katherine sits silently for a brief moment before speaking. “I don’t know,” she says honestly, voice barely audible. after such an intense emotional experience, she mostly just feels numb and hollow. she doesn’t even register the dull pain from the scratches terrance’s teeth had made on her bottom lip, or from where he’d gripped her wrists tightly in his hands. there’s nothing but emptiness and exhaustion.

jane notices the bruises forming on her wrists and the bright red mark lingering on her chin and the protective fire flares again. later, she decides, she’d sort those out. for now, though, katherine needs her.

“that’s alright,” she soothes. one hand absentmindedly rises to smooth down some of katherine’s mussed hair. “i’m here as long as you need or want me, love.”

katherine doesn’t respond, so still and silent that someone could mistake her for being asleep. it takes almost a full minute for katherine to whisper a barely audible “thank you.”

jane shuffles over until she’s sitting next to katherine, hesitantly putting an arm over katherine’s shoulders. when katherine doesn’t resist, jane pulls her ever so slightly closer. she wonders if she’s gone too far, but then katherine slowly lowers her head to rest on jane’s shoulder.

jane smiles when the weight of katherine’s head lands against her shoulder. “good girl,” she says quietly. “it’s alright, now.”

they sit in silence for almost another minute before the door is thrown open, lady agnes and henry standing side by side, looking panic-stricken. they see jane and relief flood their features, then henry looks downright murderous.

“what is the meaning of this?” he roars. agnes looks at katherine, disapproval written all over her face, her head shaking slowly.

perhaps a year ago, jane would have shied away from the king’s temper, would have been flustered and afraid. but jane was different, now. she’d given henry his son, her place was safe, and now her priority was to protect her child. evidently, some of that maternal energy was carrying over when she thought about katherine, too, and jane stands, drawing herself up to her full height. she steps in front of katherine, shielding the girl from view.

“i was comforting my lady in waiting, my dear henry,” she says firmly. “and i would be grateful if you kept your voice down. she has suffered enough today.”

henry sputters a few random syllables, then grabs jane’s shoulder and pulls her into the hall with what could be considered roughness.

katherine folds into herself under agnes’s harsh gaze. the woman approaches her and gets well within her personal space.

“what do you think you’re doing,” agnes hisses, “with her majesty? learn your place, little girl, and that is nowhere near the queen.” agnes is absolutely seething now. “if i had any power, you’d be on the first carriage out of here.”

katherine shrinks as far back as she can, too afraid to look agnes in the eye. “I-” she starts, but she doesn’t know how to possibly finish so she closes her mouth again. agnes glares at her for a moment longer before tapping her foot impatiently.

“well? don’t you have duties to attend to?”

katherine stumbles to her feet, legs uneasy and eyes starting to fill with tears.

katherine nods meekly and escapes into the hallway. henry and jane are near the corner, he looks angry. jane stands firm, resolute, even in the face of the outraged king.

an idea pops into her head, something she feels she must do immediately to save her her skin and the skin of her kind, lovely queen.

she had to leave.

she runs down the stairs and packs her bag with her measly belongings and sneaks off again. the kitchens are oddly empty as she passes through to the servant’s door. once she’s out the door, she doesn’t stop walking, headed as straight as she can manage through the wilderness, knowing a town would appear sooner or later.

it begins to get dark a lot quicker than katherine had hoped, although thinking rationally she should have expected this in early November. the bottom of her dress trails against the ground and picks up dirt as katherine holds her cloak tighter around her, shivering. she’s certain there’s a town around here somewhere, but in the pitch black it’s hard to even work out which direction she’s headed in, and she can’t shake the feeling that she might have been going in circles for the last half an hour. she’s soothed by the knowledge that the most dangerous beast she’s likely to come across here is a fox, but as the evening draws on she finds herself feeling more and more hopeless.

jane can’t help the worry settling around her after that afternoon’s confrontation. she had barely caught a glimpse of katherine disappearing around a corner, shoulders silently shaking and curled in on herself.

that was the last she had seen of the girl all day.

agnes enters jane’s bedroom later that evening with her nightly tea. “sorry for the delay, your majesty,” she says straightforwardly. “the newest hire is nowhere to be found.” she mutters something harshly, and jane swears she makes out the words ‘little rat’ in there somewhere.

jane has about reached the end of her patience with agnes at this point, and she raises an eyebrow.

“i would request you be more patient with her, lady agnes,” she says coldly. “i don’t expect to find one of my ladies in waiting crying because she was so harshly scolded after making a simple mistake. I trust you will see to it that this never happens again.”

agnes’s face goes through several emotions at once and turns almost purple. she pushes down whatever she was going to say, however, and simply nods her head stiffly.

“as you wish, your majesty.”

“and when you find her, please tell her to report to me,” jane continues, her voice icy. “she needs to move her belongings into the room closest to mine if she is going to become my permanent companion.”

agnes’s face actually does turn purple this time, to jane’s amusement.

“i will go find her immediately,” agnes grinds out through clenched teeth, curtsies, then leaves the room with the scrap of dignity she still has.

over an hour passes before agnes returns again, flanked by the captain of the king’s guard, a large and intimidating man named johnathan.

“your majesty,” he greets, bowing deeply. “we have searched the entire castle’s grounds, but we cannot locate one katherine howard.”

“what?” jane sits up, concerned. “you can’t find her?”

“there’s more,” johnathan says gravely. “we checked her chamber, of course, and it seems her belongings are missing.

panic floods jane’s senses. “widen the search,” she orders immediately, not stopping to think. “she can’t have got far, not by herself. spread guards out to the nearest towns and inquire after her.”

johnathan bows politely and leaves, audibly barking orders at some of his men down the corridor.

agnes lingers in the doorway. jane narrows her eyes threateningly. “were my instructions not clear enough for you?” she growls. “go.”

agnes waits a moment longer, obviously wishing to protest, but sees sense and bolts from the room.

jane is too alert now to sleep. she wants to go find katherine herself...

‘what a horribly perfect idea,’ she thinks.

before she knows it, she’s dressed in her riding clothes, making her way to the stable. she sees terrance, and he is a sickly white and silent as she sets her horse and helps her mount.

jane doesn’t give the boy another glance as she commands her horse forwards. she heads out into the night, searching for any sign of katherine or that she’d been there previously. it takes a while, but eventually she spots a white handkerchief caught on a low tree branch, glinting in the moonlight. she brings her horse to a stop next to it and picks up the handkerchief. the initials KH are embroidered neatly into the corner, and jane knows that katherine must have passed through this area. she frowns as she looks around; she was quite familiar with the area around the palace, and she knows that this particular direction was nowhere near a town. where was katherine headed, then? had she got lost?

she pulls out an oil lantern she had packed away as well as a thick wool blanket, lighting it with a match and setting off on foot.

a wolf bays nearby, loud and low, and jane fights the instinct to run. katherine needs her.

she continues on, blanket and lantern clutched tightly. the dim light slices the dark night, the only sound coming from her own shoes and the wildlife.

“katherine?” she calls. “katherine? it’s jane, love.”

there was no reply and jane keeps walking, lifting her lantern high to illuminate as much as possible. further on, some birds take off in flight, seemingly disturbed by something, and jane’s heart beats faster. it could be katherine- or it could be something much more sinister. the chance it might be katherine was too much to risk, though, and jane creeps forward, eyes darting to look between the trees for any sign of life.

“katherine?” jane calls again. a fox trots by her, going another hundred paces before stopping by an odd-shaped rock for a sniff. jane squints. that was definitely an weirdly colored rock.

she steps closer and closer. the fox hisses and runs off into the wooded cover, leaving the rock untouched.

that is definitely not a rock, jane finds.

it’s katherine, curled up on the ground, somewhere between asleep and awake, shivering from the cold.

“katherine!” jane gasps, falling to her knees beside her. she reaches down and gently touches katherine’s hand; her skin is freezing. katherine’s eyes are half-closed and she’s barely responsive, letting out only the weakest little noise as jane shakes her shoulder gently.

“katherine, can you hear me? it’s jane, love.” she slips her hand into katherine’s. “squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

there’s nothing for a moment, and then jane feels the tiniest bit of pressure on her hand and she lets out a sigh of relief. katherine is still mostly out of it, though, and jane knows it’s going to be difficult to get her back to the palace, especially with jane not yet back to full strength.

she unrolls the thick, wool blanket and wraps katherine in it, then pulls the girl against her, rubbing up and down her arms to stimulate any warmth. jane holds her as close as she can.

“we need to get you back, love,” jane muses urgently. “can you walk?”

katherine shakes her head weakly. jane thinks she just means that she can’t walk yet, but katherine speaks in a low, raspy, weak voice. “i won’t go back.”

“what do you mean?” jane asks softly. “you need to come back, you’ll catch your death out here.”

“can’t-” katherine shakes her head weakly. “get you... into trouble.”

“is that what you’re worried about?” jane’s voice is gentle and concerned. “sweetheart, that doesn’t matter. you need to come home, and we can discuss this when you’re warm and safe, love.”

at the word ‘home’, katherine trembles. at ‘love’ everything just becomes even more real. if she had any strength at all, she would have wrenched herself free and run, run so far and so fast that she would lose herself and jane would never find her.

“what do you want from me?!” she squeaks, fighting the lump in her throat. “why do you care so much?!”

jane opens her mouth to answer the second question before she suddenly realises that she can’t. she doesn’t know why she cares so much about katherine, despite only having known her for a few days. instead, she answers the first question.

“katherine, the only thing i want from you is for you to be safe,” she says gently. “that’s all. if you’d really rather not be at court then i’m sure i could find you a place as a ward at another household, but please, let me make sure you’re safe. that’s all I want, I promise you.”

katherine knows that if she hadn’t been half-frozen she would be crying. but she doesn’t have the energy to cry, not even a stray tear. she just sits, absolutely dead silent, for an agonizing several minutes, trying to ignore jane’s soft reassurances of safety and love and comfort, trying to ignore the slim hands running up and down her arms, the constant shift of the blanket around her.

“that’s what they all said,” she suddenly speaks, cutting jane off mid-sentence. “they all said that they cared.”

“oh, kat,” jane says before she realises it, her voice cracking. “i’m- i’m so sorry. for everything they did to you.” a few stray tears escape but jane doesn’t bother wiping them away. “but i can’t let you stay here, sweetheart. you’ll catch your death. i promise you, if you don’t want to stay at the palace, you don’t have to. you can go anywhere you’d like to, but you can’t stay here, out in the cold and the dark. please,” a few more tears slide down jane’s face. “you deserve so much better than this.”

“no, i don’t,” katherine contests. sixteen years of abuse and two-faced men and incompetent adults who were supposed to keep her safe all flash before her eyes. she tenses in jane’s arms, still far too weak to even consider moving on her own. the three little words strike jane completely silent, so katherine asks it as an invitation to continue. “i deserve exactly what i’ve been given,” she spits bitterly. then her voice drops significantly. “nothing will ever change that.”

“no,” jane gasps, concern filling her voice. “no, katherine, you don’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve any of this!”

“then why does it keep happening?” katherine asks, voice small and broken. “if i don’t deserve it, then why?”

jane desperately wishes she could answer. she wants to protect katherine, this child from the likes of men jane herself hadn’t met until she had fully come of age. katherine, young, naive, sweet-hearted katherine had been hurt in more ways than jane truly could ever comprehend.

“there’s so much evil in this world, kat,” jane says faintly. “it found you.”

katherine mumbles something lowly, something jane was sure ended in ‘please.’

“what was that, love?”

katherine’s volume increases a smidgen, just enough for jane to hear. “just leave me out here. let me go, please.”

“I-” jane stops and sighs. she wasn’t getting anywhere with katherine, not when she was like this, but she couldn’t leave her here. she refuses to. she racks her brain trying to come up with a plan. she supposed she could wait with katherine until the girl falls asleep, keeps her warm, and then find one of the guards to bring them both back, but that would involve deceiving katherine and moving her against her will, and jane isn’t sure if she wants to do that when it could ruin any trust katherine has in her. however, she refuses to leave katherine out here alone where she’d surely freeze. jane just doesn’t know what to do.

she senses katherine’s rigidity, her distrust, her fear, and knows that if she can’t soothe katherine soon, everything will just get that much harder. so she employs her motherly intuition and does to katherine exactly what she does to edward, gently beginning to rock the girl in her arms and singing, voice barely above a whisper, the familiar lullaby.

“lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green, when I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.”

her voice slowly gets stronger as she sings, still with a sweet, gentle tone. even in katherine’s numb, miserable state she can recognise the soothing feeling of being taken care of, being protected. the urge to cry comes back hard, and if katherine had any energy left she would have burst into tears. she almost hates that she relaxes in jane’s arms as the queen gently rocks her, singing to her like she’s an infant in a cradle.

jane feels katherine relax against her, some of the stiffness slacking out of her spine. she only hopes that katherine can sense the genuine affection coming from her hold and the words sweetly from her lips. she sings quietly and emotionally, even a few tears pricking in her eyes at the thought of the hell katherine had to pay just to be there, half-frozen, in jane’s embrace.

the cold starts to chill jane’s skin and she takes a moment to adjust the two of them, pulling katherine almost onto her lap as gently and slowly as possible as she covers both of them with the heavy blanket. she continues to sing, repeating the lullaby again, hoping that katherine was starting to feel safer. when she reaches the end she presses a maternal kiss to the top of katherine’s head without thinking, murmuring soft words of reassurance to her.

katherine is immensely fragile, a breath from shattering as jane sings to her and pulls her closer still. the embrace is soft and warm and katherine fights an internal battle over if this was what it truly, genuinely felt like to be cared for, or if jane was going to take something from her too.

but she feels the kiss in her hair and suddenly that breath comes, knocking the wind out of katherine. she deflates and crumbles against jane, hands clutching at the queen's riding clothes and the blanket, desperate for any single thing to cling to. "i'm so sorry jane," she whispers, but for what she isn't sure.

“oh, sweetheart,” jane soothes. “you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” she rubs small, comforting circles on katherine’s upper back. “it’s going to be okay, i promise you.”

katherine isn’t sure where she gets the energy to do so from but the tears start streaming down her face as she clings to jane, an exhausted sobbing mess desperate for comfort.

jane feels katherine start to tremble and cry against her. something in jane's heart pulls towards katherine, glad she finally broke past a border but hating that this was the way it happened. "i'm here for you, love," she whispers. jane gently kisses katherine's temple, which only makes the girl cry harder. she buries her face in the crook of jane's neck and tries to cease her sniffling, but the emotions just keep pouring out.

jane figures it’s best to let katherine get her emotions out and to comfort her through them with soft words, running a gentle hand through katherine’s hair over and over. katherine’s tears eventually start to slow out of sheer exhaustion, soon only being able to make quiet sniffling noises. she’s so tired and she rests fully on jane, body weak and her grip loosening.

just as katherine is finally calming down, jane's ears catch a loud thundering of hooves. in the distance, through the trees, she sees the bright orange of torches and lanterns, heading their way. she bites her lip nervously; henry would not be pleased that she was out of the castle, let alone in the woods with a 'lowly servant girl'. jane grinds her jaw slightly - henry never did have the greatest amount of respect for his staff.

a guard on horseback finds them first, and he calls back to the others. “they’re over here!”

he hops off his horse immediately and approaches jane and katherine, giving a quick bow.

“my liege,” he says, in a tone that suggests relief. “we found your horse and knew you must be nearby. we have a carriage for you, your majesty, and we must return to the palace right away.”

jane nods, then whispers very quietly to katherine, "let's go home, kat." the girl is hesitant to move, but allows herself to be moved and brought to her feet with a very gentle tug. jane holds the edge of the blanket in her fingers and puts an arm around katherine's shoulders, guiding her to the carriage. she hadn't noticed until then that her legs were absolutely burning, the combined pain of walking and letting katherine practically curl up in her lap setting the muscles alight.

as was to be expected, henry was waiting in the carriage, lady agnes seated beside him, both wearing matching looks of displeasure.

"did you have fun on your little midnight escapade?" he drawls sarcastically.

jane shoots him a defiant look, helping katherine get settled on the seat first and covering her with the blanket.

“save your anger, my love,” she says evenly. “i would do it again in a heartbeat to help her.”

“forgive me for my boldness, your majesty,” agnes speaks in a tone that very clearly implies she isn’t sorry at all, “but young miss howard has been far more of a hindrance than a help.”

“and as i reminded you, lady agnes,” jane turns her attention to the woman, “she might have felt more welcome had she been greeted with kindness and not hostility.”

agnes's jaw falls open as she struggles to find a response. finally, she simply fixes katherine with a glare before looking away from them both.

henry, however, does not agree with his wife's sudden stroke of strength and boldness. "i don't know where this all is coming from," he says in a low voice, "but i don't entirely appreciate being awoken in the middle of the night to find that my wife has stolen from her bed in pursuit of some..." he looks at katherine, shivering and small, then back to jane, "serving girl you seem to have taken as your own."

there’s a dangerous tone in his voice that makes jane reluctant to answer back, so instead she just pulls katherine slightly closer, turning her attention to fussing over the girl and making sure she’s warm enough. she can still feel henry’s disapproving gaze on her and she knows this is going to turn into something bigger, but she at least hopes she can get katherine safely to her chambers and asleep before henry loses his temper.

the ride back to the palace really isn't all that long, but it feels like an eternity to the four in the carriage, who all sit in a silence so tense it could be cut with a dull knife.

they slow to a stop outside the palace and, without waiting for permission, jane guides katherine inside, steering her towards what would be her new quarters as her personal companion. she knows that henry is waiting outside, able to feel his angered glare through the walls, but she doesn't let that slow her down as she gets katherine to bed.

"goodnight, kat," she whispers, then gently kisses her hairline. the girl gives a tiny, adorable, contented smile as jane leaves.

she is right, of course, that henry is outside the room when she emerges. without a word, she takes his hand and leads him downstairs to the throne room, trying her hardest to ignore the absolutely killer ache in her legs.

it takes mere seconds before henry speaks. “what you did tonight I don’t appreciate one bit,” he says, folding his arms. “you risked your life for a serving girl.”

“she’s not just a serving girl,” jane sighs. “her blood is as noble as mine. and in case you had forgotten, my love, i was once a lady in waiting too.”

“but you were nothing like that,” henry blusters. “you never caused trouble like she is.”

"she has not caused any 'trouble', dear. if anything, she has not had a great impression of the noble tudor household in the short time she's been here." jane takes just a beat pause, wondering if she wanted to go on. "told off far too harshly for the smallest mistake, assaulted in a storeroom..." she trails off, cringing at the sight of terrance and katherine in that closet. she shakes her head. "honestly, i'm surprised she doesn't want to leave," she bluffs, hoping to appeal to henry's ego.

henry looks slightly mollified and he takes a seat. “i still never want a repeat of tonight. i almost lost you after Edward was born, and i don’t want you putting yourself at risk like that again.” he pauses for a moment. jane supposes henry’s concern for her is the only reason he hasn’t lost his temper yet, as he’s being surprisingly gentle given the circumstances.

“as for miss howard, i don’t want any more disruption from her, but if she keeps herself clean then she might just settle in yet,” henry declares. he glances at the doorway, as if back at katherine. “she’s a very pretty girl.”

“she’s a sweet child,” jane says with careful emphasis. “i’m sure she’ll find her feet soon enough, my love.”

henry nods absently, still staring at the doorway as if it were katherine herself. jane frowns deeply at this, making a mental note to never leave henry alone with katherine, no matter what.

“if that’s all,” jane cuts back in, “i’m going to bed. it’s been a long day.” she kisses henry’s cheek. “goodnight, my love,” she says quietly. he is still staring off and makes no more than a noncommittal “g’night.”

jane begins the long and painful walk back to her quarters, unable to keep herself from smiling as she passes katherine’s room, hoping that the girl has settled in alright and tomorrow will be better for them both.

the next day jane can barely leave her bed, the result of her previous exertion making walking incredibly painful. to her delight, however, katherine walks in at jane’s normal breakfasting hour, a tray in her hands and a shy, nervous smile on her face.

“good morning, jane,” she says quietly as she places the tray down. her hair had been scraped back into an intricate style, but quite a few wisps of hair had escaped and they fall across katherine’s face as she tilts her head down. katherine tucks then behind her ears self-consciously, and jane makes a mental note to help katherine with her hairstyle later.

jane returns the smile. she takes a moment to sit up, then flags katherine over, patting a spot on the bed for the girl to sit. “good morning, love,” she says kindly. katherine sets down the tray between them and folds her legs, looking at jane expectantly. the queen, however, looks confused.

“where’s your breakfast, love?”

katherine looks surprised for a moment, then shrugs, blushing slightly.

“i’m not hungry, but I thank you for your concern.” the small smile plays on her lips again and she looks almost apologetically at jane.

“well,” jane gives her a gentle smile, “I couldn’t possibly eat this whole meal by myself, so if you find that you do get hungry feel free to help yourself to a morsel or two.” katherine looks almost shocked at the idea of sharing the queen’s breakfast but she doesn’t say anything, hands folding neatly on her lap and fingers playing with the lace trim of her sleeves.

they sit in silence for a long while. jane slowly eats, alternating her focus from the food on the tray to the shy girl in front of her. she feels a sting of something like pride or affection when katherine, in one quick fluid motion, steals a berry from a bowl on the tray and pops it in her mouth without looking at jane at all.

“katherine,” jane begins, remembering a piece of their conversation from last night, “do you wish to stay? i personally would love to have you,” jane earnestly adds, “but if this isn’t the place for you, i’m sure i can help find you somewhere else. it’s all up to you, love.”

katherine stills for a moment, hand slightly outstretched as if about to go back for another berry. she slowly retracts her hand and glances down at it.

“i... i don’t know,” she says quietly. “i’d like to, i think, but...” she trails off and jane reaches out, taking katherine’s hand in hers.

“but what, love?” she asks softly. “you can tell me, i promise.”

katherine speaks very quietly and jane listens with rapt attention. “i don’t want to see you get in more trouble with the king because of me,” she admits. “i know this isn’t...it isn’t something i’m too great at.” she cringes we agnes’s harsh words echo around in her head. “i just...” she exhales a long, slow breath. “i don’t want you to come to resent me.”

“kat,” jane sighs gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “you leave the king to me, okay? you don’t need to worry about him, not while i’m here. and everything else, that will come in time. you’ll learn how the court works in no time, you cannot blame yourself for a simple mistake in your first week. and i can promise you, love, i could never resent you.”

katherine’s gaze meets hers, searching for honesty and affection with wide, hopeful eyes. she wants to believe jane, wants to believe she’s finally safe with an adult who will actually protect her, unlike the ones who failed her in the past.

“you really mean that?” she asks, voice small.

jane gives her a gentle and loving smile. “yes, kat, i do.” she moves a hand to rest on katherine’s cheek. “i want you to listen and believe me when i say this kat,” jane instructs kindly, “you’re safe here, with me, and i’ll make sure of it.” she strokes a thumb over katherine’s cheekbone. “and that’s a promise i intend to keep.”

katherine suddenly jumps up, instinctively rushing into jane’s arms and burying her face in jane’s shoulder. she knocks over a bowl of strawberries in her haste but doesn’t seem to notice. jane is surprised at katherine’s sudden rush of affection but she soon relaxes into it, bringing a hand to gently brush through katherine’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“thank you,” katherine breathes, a tiny barely audible sound.

“of course, love,” jane says. her hand traverses katherine’s back in long, slow movements. “i swear to you, katherine howard,” jane whispers, a thin veneer of steel evident in her tone, “if anyone in the castle tries to hurt you, they will have me to answer to.” she softens her tone. “you deserve, kat, to never be hurt again.”

katherine practically crumbles in her arms, tears of relief filling her eyes as she clings to jane. she hopes so badly that jane’s telling the truth that she can’t help but believe her, can’t help but desperately cling to the idea that she’s finally safe. jane cradles her gently, murmuring soft reassurances and words of comfort. somewhere, deep down, jane knows that there is no way that she can keep that promise. heartbreak and trauma comes in funny forms, and, as much as she wants to, she can’t keep katherine from being hurt again.

like only a week later, when katherine is getting ready for bed, she hears the door open.

“oh, jane, i had something to ask-“

she turns around and it is definitely not jane waiting for her.

#six the musical #six musical #jane seymour #katherine howard #julie and jess write #clouds of rain and sun #hold onto me you're all i have #tw: assault

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teroar · 6 years ago

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twdg school theatre headcanons

before u say anything. yes. i wasted too much fucking time on this.

clem: doesn’t join the drama club until senior year. she figured that she’d pretty much participated in everything else, sports, mathletes, peer leadership, she might as well do this, too. just to try it out. the school musical is beauty and the beast and, inexplicably, she gets belle. on her first audition ever. because Of Course she does. she doesn’t know much about musicals (she’s seen the classics) but she has a great voice and she LOVED disney as a kid so she gets in. would be the person that forgets to bring sheet music (“you’re supposed to do that????”) so she’d have to acapella it. and still get in. she is loathed at first because of this

violet: did technical crew from freshman-junior year. ran into clem during auditions (vi was supervising) and was convinced to join by this girl she’d never met because god DAMN she was so pretty. she auditions and, in her eyes, it goes TERRIBLY. she doesn’t even bother checking her email until the next monday where she’s greeted by a hug (which was essentially a tackle) from clementine, congratulating her on getting, of all parts, the beast. because of the extreme lack of male auditions, and the fact that violet has a beautiful lower range, they cast her as the beast. she is, at first, terrified. but clem asks if she would help her run lines, and so every day after school violet goes over to clem’s (violets parents don’t even know she’s in the show, so they never go to her’s) to help her with her lines. she knows that clem has them all memorized by the end of the first week and is just pretending to mess them up, so she starts doing the same. they both realize during tech week that they now ACTUALLY don’t know their lines and go into panic mode, spending every night staying up UNGODLY hours to memorize their lines. during one of these especially late nights, they’re practicing the final number, and they get to the part in the script where they are instructed to kiss. clem hesitates, but eventually ends up going through with the kiss, and every day since then, they somehow keep forgetting the words to the last song. “let’s run that last song again, i always forget the words.” “hahahaahaha yeah me too let’s run it till the end” “yeah obviously” u 2 aren’t fooling anyone

louis: freshman year, louis played piano for the orchestra pit. he saw how much fun the actors were having, and from sophomore year to senior year the stage has been his LIFE. he’s gotten the male lead to every show since, but the director noticed he didn’t really fit the description of beast like. at all. the part of lumiere, however, literally has his name written all over it, so it’s not a surprise to anyone when he gets the part. goes with violet every once and a while to practice with clem, but after a while catches on and lets them do their thing. the kind of person to never come on time to rehearsal and miss half of tech week yet still SOMEHOW have all of their shit together long before opening night??? clem is worried that a mistake will happen but by now everyone is used to louis’s behavior “shouldn’t he be here?” “he has everyone in the cast’s lines memorized already including his own, let him do his thing” still has a passion for piano, but he loves to sing, and with lessons from the company’s vocal coach, he’s fucking great at it.

aasim: aasim has done lighting and sound all four years. could literally do it blindfolded. the person all the junior techies comes to when something isn’t working because he’s the only person that knows how to work most of the shit up in the booth (although honestly, he doesn’t tell people how to work some of the stuff because he likes feeling important.) a few weeks into the show, it is realized that louis, although he has many talents, cannot do a french accent for shit. but, guess who is fluent in french??? while violet and clem are doing their thing, louis comes to aasim, essentially begging him to teach him how to perfect the accent and pronounce some of the french words. as funny as it is watching louis’ feeble attempts, he’s secretly a little embarrassed every time he says a line. at first, aasim VIOLENTLY refuses “dude, they have youtube videos for that shit, right?” but louis pesters him EVERY DAY until aasim gives up and finally agrees. partially because he’s sick of being pestered, but mostly because, well, louis is adorable. since aasim is one of the only kids that knows how to drive, after rehearsal, he usually drives violet and clem to clem’s house and drives him and louis to louis’s house. louis will blast show tunes on the way (because clem lives an ungodly distance from the school) and louis will sing loudly along to the lyrics, despite knowing that literally nobody else in the car is really all that into musicals. aasim, half the time is complaining about how much he spends on gas weekly for these assholes (louis usually lends him money, it’s not like his parents will notice)

ruby: THE BACKBONE OF THE ENTIRE DRAMA CLUB. keeps traditions alive, hosts the cast party every year, etc. is in her junior year and has a surprisingly good soprano voice. she’s cast as mrs potts. makes everyone cry during her song on closing night. will frequently argue with the director, however, but she’s usually right, and she usually wins.

minerva: minnie has gotten the female lead since freshman year. and let me tell you, she is PISSED when clem gets the lead instead of her, and even more pissed that she’s playing her ex girlfriend’s love interest. minnie and violet broke up early in the summer going into senior year (it ended badly.) so the wounds are still pretty fresh. is cast as babette (or the feather duster, for the uneducated) and hates it. she doesn’t even have any lines! so much so that she joins the technical crew instead, opting to work on spotlight. during rehearsal, she’ll often “forget” to put the spotlight on clem during pivotal moments, and almost does this through the show’s run, but sophie talks her out of it very sternly.

sophie: sophie has worked on set design ever since freshman year (currently a senior) and is the real creative genius of the tech crew. is incredibly disproving of her sister’s attitude toward clem, and even goes out of her way to prove this to clem, giving her a hand when she needs it or complimenting her outfit once and a while. makes most of the props and costumes, and literally nobody knows where they would be without her.

brody: is currently in her junior year but didn’t audition until sophomore year, due only to the fact that her girlfriend sophie pressures her to. she REALLY didn’t want to, but nobody can say no to sophie. brody knows she can’t really sing, but she is AMAZING at dancing, and is cast as an ensemble member until minnie quits, and she is placed as the feather duster (babette.) it’s hilarious to everyone seeing her and louis try to flirt onstage. can also drive, but isn’t allowed to drive other people yet and will NOT break the law (except for sophie who she drives everywhere) picks everyone up McDonald’s, though, every day of tech week

mitch: auditions for the show after losing a bet with willy, doesn’t actually think he’ll get in. doesn’t ever use email so doesn’t know that he got cast as Gaston until after two rehearsals have past and louis comes up to him. “dude, you know you’re in the musical right?” doesn’t tell anyone that he’s in the show until louis accidentally puts him on his snapchat at rehearsal. will never admit that he’s actually having a really good time

#I SPENT TWO HOURS ON THIS PLEASE FUXKIBG REBLOG IT #twdg #the walking dead game

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dashielldeveron · 6 years ago

Text

A Prologue in Venom

Part One of the Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere.

Warnings: violence, swears, the law.

Summary: an introduction to the ongoing AU of you working for the mob tirelessly out of your innate sense of justice and thirst for the mob boss. You have an incredible mentor who is pushing you down a path of crime in order to do the right thing. Your mentor forgot 1) to mention that your new employer is so fucking charismatic and 2) that you’re a dramatic little bitch.

From: Tracey Prine To: [email protected] Subject: article attached

Thought you might want to see this. You’ve made the papers for your real job for once, although your name still isn’t mentioned—but I expect you enjoy that. It’s all over the news stations, and NPR is currently airing the story. Congratulations. There’s a nice quotation from Polson near the bottom that you’ll get a kick out of.

Additionally, I’m going to need your piece on the refugee crisis within twelve hours if it’s going to be published this week.

Thanks, t.

[attachment]

FALSELY ACCUSED, JULIA LAURENS ACQUITTED

In the late afternoon of October 17, the protracted trial of Julia Laurens came to a sudden end in light of new evidence. Laurens, on trial for the murder of Moira Herrington, daughter of celebrated actors Jay and Melissa Herrington, walks as an innocent woman this morning.

As Moira’s violin teacher, Laurens would have had access to the Herrington residence during lessons on Mondays, but, it turns out, she was not the only one. It seemed like an open-and-shut case when Moira’s body, dismembered, was found in various black bags in Laurens’s garbage bins, along with the ice pick used to gouge out Moira’s eyes under the seat in Laurens’s vehicle on the day Laurens was stopped on the route from the Herrington residence. Laurens had said that she had driven to the lesson without being able to find Moira and was returning home, but the body had already been discovered.

However, as the defence exposed, all supposed evidence was a plant by perpetrator Johnson Mays, a colleague of Laurens who had a secret, unhealthy obsession with the underage Moira. Mays, a mechanic, had attended the weekly game night at Laurens’s apartment on Sunday and had sabotaged Laurens’s car and planted an ice pick similar to the one used. With this setup, Mays would have time to commit the murder during the scheduled violin lesson, while Laurens would have to attend to her car.

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table and flicked through the article. Fucking yes. You’d made national news for being a lawyer, for once. You were the one who’d done the intricate research to discover Mays’s connections, and when Dr. Prine gave you leave, you had driven upstate to investigate Mays’s house under warrant, posing as a general lackey. You had felt the need to see his place with your own eyes, and you had struck gold: not only had you found the real ice pick in his wood pile, but you had found one of Moira’s contacts stuck to the back of his freezer. Her fucking contact. When the lab reports came back, complete with the drop of blood on the ice pick matching Moira’s, you forwarded everything to Dr. Prine, and she sent it to her attorney acting defence in the trial. Mays wasn’t even a player in the game before you, and now the rightful murderer was going to jail. An innocent woman walks free because of you.

Justice felt fantastic. Your work being in the national headlines felt a little better.

You scanned the rest of the article until you reached the quotation Dr. Prine had told you about.

…Out of the clamouring press following the trial, only this was squeezed from a fuming Prosecutor James Polson: “I [redacted] had them. Whoever dug up the dirt on Mays, they’re a [redacted] viper, sinking their fangs into the status quo and letting their venom spread.”

Grinning, you took another bite of Ben and Jerry’s, straight out of the carton. Dr. Prine was right. You were going to have to find a hard copy of the Times so that you could post this on your bedroom wall. You had to bite your lip you were smiling so hard.

You set your ice cream on the coffee table and lay back on the couch to compose a response to Dr. Prine, but you called her instead. As your phone rang, you kicked back and stared at the ceiling fan, its pull making small circles as the blades spun.

“Dr. Prine,” you said when she picked up, “Holy fuck! Holy fuck!”

“Congratulations,” she said, her smile coming through over the phone, “I’m proud of you. You did some really solid work.”

“I didn’t think this would happen! I saved someone’s life! Julia Laurens can go to fucking Hobby Lobby, and no one will accost her. It’s my fault, and she doesn’t even know me,” you said, sitting up to grab your ice cream again.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Well, yeah,” you said thickly through a chunk of frozen brownie, “It is. I wish I could tell my mother, though, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Is she still doing all right?”

You swallowed, choking a bit to get it down. “Yeah. How’s work for you?”

“The freshman students write the worst papers I’ve ever seen,” said Dr. Prine with a clattering in the background, “Damn, I just—hold on. Dropped the binders.” A door creaked shut on her end, and Dr. Prine spoke more loudly after. “I miss your work. It was nice grading it, since I didn’t have to mark it up much. These kids can’t even handle a mock trial yet. I worry for your generation.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all just tired,” you said, “Speaking of my work, I’ve almost finished the refugee piece. Once I get a solid closing statement, I’ll send it your way.”

“Well, don’t procrastinate. Your deadline’s soon. You got anything lined up this evening?”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you winced. “Don’t remind me. Polson’s got me doing menial work again. Something totally useless with spreadsheets and the expenses of the fucking break room and secretarial offices. If he knew what I was capable of—”

“If he knew you worked against him in the Laurens trial? I know,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. It’s your ticket out of Polson’s firm. I’ve found a place where your talents would be…much more appreciated. You could start within the week.”

“Say more right now.”

***

2,132.

2,132 rejections via mass email, starting in your second year of law school. All from different firms that didn’t want you. Rounds upon rounds of interviews, competing with your friends and total strangers who held themselves like they were Croesus, reaching the final interview, only to get rejection emails three days later from firms you would have quite literally killed people to work for. Years of working for and studying under Dr. Prine, editing her national law journal, diligently dotting the is of her excruciating cases late into the night. Getting a taste of the allure of wealth and entrenched power, and never having it want you outside of the knowledge that you were her student. All of it—from the cases you and she never could crack and stood outside in the rain pulling your hair out over, to the parts of your life you missed out on, like your best friend’s wedding and your mother’s last birthday before you started growing apart—leading up to this: walking into a high-rise building with mirror-like windows in the middle of Manhattan and staring up at an embossed, brass nameplate on a door that read Harrison Osterfield.

The next chapter in your life, and it sank like a stone in your stomach. You raised your fist to knock, but before you could, someone snatched it away.

“Ripley,” said the bony man maybe a decade older than you, pulling on his collar and dropping your hand, “and you’re not getting my first name. We’ve got to get upstairs before they see you. No time to lose. I’m the lawyer you’re replacing.”

Glancing back at Osterfield’s door, you followed behind Ripley up a few floors (the elevator was too risky, he told you.) and into a crusty, windowless office with water damage dripping in a back corner. After closing the door, he sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk (one leg was propped up by a book) and gestured for you to do the same.

“You’re Dr. Prine’s student, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you said, sinking into the leather, “She also told me that you’d be waiting for me, but considering this business belongs to a Mr. Thomas Holland, one would think I’d be meeting him on my first day.”

Ripley pulled a leg into his lap, resting one ankle on the opposite knee. “With any luck, you won’t have any direct interactions with him. Nasty man in a nasty business.”

“Being in an IT consulting company can’t be that bad,” you said, head snapping towards a bucket against the wall once water dripped into it from the ceiling. “What’s with the, uh…?” You nodded your head towards the leak.

“They shoved me down here while the real office is getting renovated, or so they say. Doesn’t matter,” said Ripley, “You and I have a lot of work to do. You’re one of Dr. Prine’s. So am I. They’re working me to death here, and apparently you’re a masochistic workaholic. I need to get out, and this is—well, what we’re about to do is going to be easiest for everyone in this room.”

You tapped your fingers against the split leather, each landing with a dull thum. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be needlessly complicated?”

“Please, trust me, or at least trust Dr. Prine,” he said, untwisting the cap of a nalgene from his desk, “It was her idea. I can call her up, if you want.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shaking your head, you said, “I’ve already seen your credentials. Dr. Prine gave me more information on you than I need to know, Jerome Ripley. I know you’re trustworthy. What’s the plan?”

“I hear you’re into anonymity.”

You always were a dramatic little bitch, so you agreed to the plan: you and Ripley would collaborate on the job until you knew much more of the rope of Osseous Enterprises, and Ripley would fade out as you took on the job by yourself. The plan was sketchy, and everything reeked of ulterior motives. You found yourself addressing stranger and stranger things sent to you in the emails (a lousy lawyer@osseous, how lame) right up until you opened an email from Holland before Ripley could get to it.

Inside were photographs of a human skeleton with the flesh freshly ripped off of it, and that lay to the side of the bones. Boss shot him through the neck, it was labelled, Had me skin it. Wants you to send it along to H. Jones in Queens and cover the death. Victim lived in… And then addresses, social security, et al.

You were supposed to cover up a murder. A murder committed by—oh, um. Hm. You didn’t sign up for this.

Ripley walked into the office right as Dr. Prine picked up on your phone call, and he slapped the phone out of your hands.

Both of them talked you through. The mafia. You were working for the mafia. Not the whole thing, obviously, but you were working for the most prestigious mob family in—fuck, they covered multiple countries, but their base was right here in New York, in the very fucking building you’d been working in for a month—oh, fuck. Were you in the mob? No, you had to be inducted, and to be inducted, you had to be trusted, or at least, even fucking noticed. Osseous Enterprises was a front corporation for Holland’s dealings in the mob, even though it made a lot of money—but significantly less than what was officially recorded. No wonder Ripley was taking certain tasks. He was easing you into it, letting you deal with the surface level shit before you really knew what you were getting into (an aside: this explained why Dr. Prine seemingly sent you to work in business when you specialised in criminal law).

It took hours and hours of skype calls with Dr. Prine and talking with Ripley outside of work to convince you to stay. Dr. Prine appealed to your better nature, damn it, and talked about how even though Holland worked selfishly, he confronted people and solved problems the government was too scared to commit to. All she had to do was talk up your innate sense of justice, and you started changing your mind, albeit with extreme reluctance, especially with the threat of returning to Polson’s firm. Not to mention your first paycheque had your head spinning, and that didn’t hurt your cause.

So, you worked for the mob, and no one knew you did, not even the mob. If Holland knew Ripley were leaving, Ripley would have a knife in his back within the next minute. It was safer for Ripley to phase out, with you proving your worth secretly, until you deemed it time to reveal yourself, after Ripley left.

“It’d be odd if all areas of your life were perfect in tandem,” Dr. Prine would remind you, and you’d affectionately flip her off and get back to writing your next Epiales piece. Deadlines were always too soon.

***

The Epiales project was the only thing going for you right now, aside from the sudden income from Holland. It began your final semester of law school, when you shouldn’t have been taking on anything new at all. You had written, quite frankly, a fucking astonishing article on modern feminism as it functions in the government and in law, and Dr. Prine had featured it in her law journal. You hadn’t wanted recognition, because your views differed drastically from your family’s, and you didn’t want your peers making fun of you, either. You’d decided on Epiales as your penname, because, even though you wanted to follow in the footsteps of political authors throughout history, you couldn’t find a Greek philosopher whose views you agreed with. So, you went with the personification of nightmares, just because it’d be your family’s worst nightmare if they knew you were this politically different from them.

Just as a joke.

But then, the New York Times had bought your article from Dr. Prine and published it on the front page. Eventually, through repetitions of this and an endless string of emails, you had a monthly feature in the fucking New York Times, so long as the article was original to their newspaper and not a republished one from the law journal. They conceded to your continued posting to the Epiales website on the basis that you posted online after they began selling that day’s edition. You didn’t care. You were in the New York Times, for Christ’s sake.

And no one knew it was you. You were completely safe, from hecklers, from your family, from disgusting men threatening to ruin your life and/or end it. You had taken too many precautions. Hell, if someone tried to trace your IP address, it’d relocate to the middle of a sulphur pit in Yellowstone.

Through a series of accidents, you garnered respect.

***

The day you should have been waiting for comments to roll in for your latest instalment on the refugee crisis, Tom Holland needed his lawyer present at a tennis match in the Hamptons. Holland intended to ensure political ties with Senator Hernandez, whose daughter was playing in the tennis tournament. A sizable crowd at a public outing, all distracted and getting steadily drunk? Holland could make his move easily.

Thus there you stood under the scant shade of a pine tree in the ninety-seven-degree heat, sweating through your jet-black blazer, sucking on a piece of ice, and damning Tom Holland to his grave. You glared daggers into the back of his pretty head as he leant against the railing of the pavilion, laughing with the crowd and swirling an old fashioned in his palm against the muted sounds of rackets hitting the ball in the background. When Harrison bent in to whisper to Holland, Tom took off his amber-tinted sunglasses and cleaned them on the inside of his suit jacket, and once finished, he nodded and started weaving his way through the spectators.

Holland wanted his lawyer here yet wasn’t doing anything worthwhile, you thought bitterly. You were too good for him, really, because you’d planted yourself near Senator Hernandez’s bench as he watched his daughter. While Holland flirted, you were eavesdropping and sweating your fucking skin off.

Near the end of the second set, you caved and shrugged off your blazer when you caught the latter half of something Hernandez was saying: “—read it? It’s brilliant. Next time Congress is in session, I’m bringing in that Epiales article.”

Your jaw dropped, and so did the ice from your mouth. Your blazer hung limp from one hand, and you steadied yourself against the tree, your high heels sinking into the earth. Fumbling around for your phone, you barely had time to get to Dr. Prine’s contact entry before someone gently nudged your arm from behind with a glass tumbler, condensation sticking to your skin.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here,” said Tom Holland, his voice hot in your ear, while he’s standing a little too close for comfort and holding out an old fashioned identical to his, “I can offer a distraction, at the least.”

You don’t drink, but you took what was offered. “Am I that transparent?”

“Like glass, sweetheart. What’s bothering you?” He leant against the tree trunk, slumping a little, and tapped his index finger against his tumbler.

“Afraid I’ve been dragged here for work.”

“On a Saturday?”

You met his gaze, completely fixated on you through the amber sunglasses. “My boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Sounds like it,” Tom said, cracking a grin, “Forcing you to come to some silly tennis match on the hottest day of the month and flat-out ignoring you.”

“It’s better than putting me in a sundress and having me on his arm.” Like Polson did once that summer. You had kicked his ass, verbally, about it, but since he threatened to smear your name through the mud for the rest of your life, which he was capable of doing, it had to be done. “At least I’m here for a reason, supposedly.”

“Who treats his employees like that? Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tom brought his glass to his mouth as his eyes flicked up and down your body, taking his time about it. “Though I’d put you in a green sundress. Something that shows off your shoulders.”

“And I’d put you in navy, in something with a high neckline. Anything to accentuate those pretty-boy cheekbones you’ve got,” you said.

At this, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, pushed off the tree, and took a step closer to you. He may be enjoying it now, but this motherfucker would regret this conversation in about five minutes. To be honest, you were enjoying it a little too much. To have someone as powerful, confident, and attractive (the grey tweed suit buttoned over a tight, white button-down was doing things to you) as Tom was having his complete, unadulterated attention on you? It was a taste of something you denied yourself. But no matter how fast his charisma held you, it was time to wrap it up. You planned to work for this man a long time.

“Listen,” said Tom, “Why don’t I give you a tour of the country club?” He trailed two fingers from your wrist over the back of your hand to take your drink. “It’s not much, but we’ll get you into some air conditioning. We could find a place to talk without anyone overhearing, if you like.”

You rolled your shoulders back, and for the first time, you began to smile. “Hardly professional, Holland. To think I expected better of you.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Shouldn’t you be giving this attention to Senator Hernandez’s daughter? It’ll be easier to get to him through her.”

And there it was: his face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering very slightly, the brief clenching of his jaw and the flush around the tops of his ears—the face your opponents got in court when your research that would pack the case into a tight box was brought to the stand. “Who are you?” Tom asked flatly.

“You’re going to have to work for that information, Holland,” you said, “Be careful about how you respond. As much as you should like to, you can’t make a scene with so many witnesses.”

“I own all of these people,” he said through his teeth.

“Go ahead, then,” you said, and you clasped your hand behind your back, waiting.

After a beat, Tom sighed exasperatedly and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you somewhere, but before he could take two steps, you yanked yourself out of his grasp. He didn’t even bother looking over his shoulder. “Are you going to follow me?”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

He turned his head enough to look you in the eye. “You’re going to talk.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You appear to know who I am. Use your imagination.” He jerked his head towards the country club’s restaurant, not far from the tennis courts. “C’mon.”

Death sounded good at all occasions for you, but since someone needed to feed your cat this evening, now wouldn’t be the best time to die. Not to mention you still had half a croissant left over from that morning, and you couldn’t let that go to waste. You followed behind Tom at a couple of paces, checking to ensure no one was watching you leave, because it sure looked like you were sneaking off to give him a blowjob behind the ice machine.

He made you go first once you reached the stairs to the upper storey restaurant, and he cornered you at the far end of the balcony, trapping you against the iron railing with the metal pressing into your back and his hands planted on either side of you. Tom stood close enough that you had to lean backwards a little over the railing, and you had to grip the railing just inside of his hands to stay upright.

His mouth twitched. “Why are you here?”

Your gaze flashed from his lips to his eyes. “I’m here to supervise the contract you’re making with Senator Hernandez, and I’m ensuring that he does sign it.”

“And why’s that?” When he jerked forward in an attempt to make you lose your balance, you stifled a cough at the wave of the oversaturated cologne that hit you.

“Like I said, my boss is a bit of an ass.”

“Damn it,” Tom said, breaking eye contact for the first time. Freshly determined, he moved closer, his hipbones poking into you with one hand gripping your waist. “Who’d be stupid enough to provoke me? Who do you work for? Fletcher? The Fratellis?”

“You,” you said, and you left your lips pursed as he flinched away from you and bent over the back of a wrought-iron chair, pressing his fist to his mouth.

“I’m your lawyer,” you said, stifling a smile, “I wrote the Hernandez contract. I’ve also been managing your affairs for some time now, specifically covering your tracks for fucking murder—”

“What’d you do to Ripley?” Tom straightened up and removed his sunglasses. He tucked them over his collar.

“Ripley’s gone,” you said, “of his own free will. Or of his will, at least, since he wasn’t free to leave under your—”

“Where is he now?”

“Sorry. Privileged information. What matters is that Ripley’s gone completely off-grid so that you can’t find him. Even I’m not able to reach him.” You tentatively slid from your corner along the railing nearer to the chair he had propped a foot on. “I’ve been working for you for over a month now. You really should keep better tabs on your employees—though, I suspect, that’ll be part of my job soon.”

Tom snapped his fingers twice. “Name.”

“Paul McCartney.”

He narrowed his eyes, his nose wrinkling in the process, and said, “Your name.”

You didn’t hesitate in saying it, a first for you, and as he mouthed the syllables slowly, you said, “And don’t bother looking me up. I don’t have any social media, nor do I have an online presence at all.” Under your real name, that is. “You can find me in a list of interns for a certain renown professor, but I’m about to give you that information, anyway.”

Tom stared up at you, a curl dangling in front of his eyes. “A freely given piece of personal information?” His fingertips pressed above his left lapel. “I’m touched,” he said, his voice dark.

“My mentor for the better part of my life now,” you said, stepping closer to drag the back of your hand over the iron pattern in Tom’s chair (he jolted backwards, just barely, but you caught it), “has been Tracey Prine.”

He tilted his head, and his jaw hung open slightly, his tongue lingering on the edge of his top incisors before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. “No, she hasn’t.”

“Want me to call her?” You dug your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it to her contact entry, just where it had been before Tom started talking to you. Your thumb waited above the call button for his decision, but whatever. Fuck with him. You pressed it anyway and put it on speaker.

It rang twice before she picked up, and at the sound of her voice stating your name and telling you she’s got a class in two minutes and to check on the Times (you didn’t react to that part), Tom inhaled sharply and straightened his shoulders.

“Not much, Dr. Prine, but I’m here with my employer,” you say, the phone lying flat in your palm between you and Tom, whose gaze flickered from it to you.

“Tell Mr. Holland I appreciate his work ethic and that he should value yours to no end,” she said, “I’ve got to go. Tonight?”

“Tonight,” you said, and you hung up on her.

“What’s…?” When you shook your head, he held out his hand. “Let me see your texts.” He swore under his breath as he scrolled through them, going through months and months of casework for notable trials, and he read the attachments you had sent recently. “Lab work, blood results. An ice pi—holy shit,” Tom said, the hand with the phone falling limply to his lap, “The Laurens trial. You.” The corner of his mouth twitched before breaking into a smirk. “You’re the one that solved everything. You’re that viper.”

Oh, my fuck; he’s heard of you. Tom Holland has heard about you. He’s familiar with your work. Oh, holy fuck. You held it all in for the moment, but if you made it home alive, you were going to marathon Star Wars and call in for takeaway. “That I am,” you said coolly, accepting your phone when he offered it, “and what does that mean for you, Mr. Holland?”

Any evidence of doubt about him evaporated, and his charisma returned almost instantly. He was smiling now, his teeth on display, and he leant towards you. “I want you at my side, Viper,” he said, his hands dangerously close to yours on the back of the iron chair, “I want you to do for me what you did for Laurens. Exclusively. I’ll be your only client. I want you to tear apart my enemies and pick their bones clean. I want you to be merciless, and I want you to be mine.”

That’s a lot of subtext you’ll be thinking about in the shower later. But show nothing; be nothing. “You want an awful lot.”

Tom took a deep breath and moved to sit on the wrought-iron table. “That’s why I’m giving you an out,” he said, crossing his arms loosely, “before you’re in. Because once you’re in, you can’t leave. I’ll make sure of that.”

You took a moment before clasping your hands behind your back and taking a step around the chair towards him. “I want my privacy.”

“I can’t guarantee that. I’ve got to keep a close eye on you, since Ripley slithered away,” he said, “You’re a shot in the dark despite your accomplishments.”

“You will guarantee it,” you said, leaning against the table with the iron pattern pressing into your palm, “Addresses, bank accounts, social security, everything that I don’t give you.”

Tom shook his head. “I can’t—”

“You will. It’s all I’m asking. I’ll be covering your dirty work from the world, so why can’t I hide mine?” It was your turn to be too close, for your breath to be hot against his skin as you said softly into his ear, “Tell me, Holland: are you afraid of the dark?”

tags: @presidentbttrflyfreak @magstorrn @imstarwarstrashokay @infamous-webhead @starksparker @starksmile @pparkerwrites @softspideys @spidereyhes @bi-writes @iron-spiderr @laurfangirl424 @wheremyotpat @valar--m0rghulis @upsidedownparker @hollandroos

#tom holland #fic #tom holland/reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #mob tom #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob au #DASH IT ALL #viper au

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veky1993 · 6 years ago

Text

Caught - Chapter 4

I couldn’t resist having Sharon ogle Andy once more.

I hope you enjoy the read. You can also find it here.

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” Andy asked. He sat on the couch with his socked feet propped up on the coffee table and a hand in Sharon’s hair as she lay on her side with her head pillowed in his lap.

They were relaxing for the day, enjoying the rare work-free evening while watching some movie that had been on their watchlist for a good year before they finally found the time to watch it as intended. Regretfully though, Andy found the movie rather boring, and the way Sharon easily drew her attention from the screen to him as she rolled over onto her back to look at him, said she wasn’t too engrossed in it either.

“No.”

He looked down at her, smiling at the questioning, but slightly melodious lilt to her reply, and continued stroking her hair. “Go to a game,” he told her on a shrug.

“Oh.” She drew out a long sigh. They’d barely seen a stadium from outside lately, much less from the inside. “You tell the bad guys to take a day off,” she playfully ran the back of her fingers down his chest, then flicked her hand in the air, “and let’s.”

“I’m serious,” he suddenly straightened, and briefly she was forced to lift her head while he rearranged her pillow for her, “we could make a whole weekend out of it, maybe have Nicole’s boys over, take ‘em to the game, you know,” he shrugged, “spend some quality time with them before they turn into moody teenage monsters who think all adults are lame?”

She chuckled. “You just want them to do something else besides dance, and,” she lifted a hand to his cheek and pressed into it in slight admonishment, “an excuse to eat junk for a change.”

“No,” he protested quite vehemently, even though she had sounded teasing enough. “Work’s just been so,” he groaned, momentarily tilting his head back in imagined agony, “crazy, and I think we could both use a break.”

He gave her that half a shrug of his and jutted his lower lip out just so, that even if he did have unbecoming agendas she would have been unable to say no to even the silliest of requests. She sighed in quiet pleasure, when as if to further sell his point, he dug his fingers into her scalp precisely the way she liked. Her eyes slipped closed at the welcome sensation, and she instantly agreed. “I know.”

“So?” He shifted in his seat yet again, but she remained safely in his lap. “What do you say?” He wiggled his eyebrows enticingly, expecting an answer in the affirmative.

No answer came forth though, for Sharon’s mind went unexpectedly blank, and all she could do was stare at him. He looked so utterly childlike and excited at the prospect, as if nothing more would make him happier than spoiling his grandkids with her for a weekend.

She absolutely adored it.

Honestly, as much as everyone found her work persona at odds with her private self, she was equally amazed by his contrasting personalities. At work she would never find him this eager and excited over anything, sans maybe going home after a long day, or giving Provenza a hard time. Determined, and nearly hell bent on getting something done? Oh, yes. But this gentle at work? Her eyelids fluttered closed again when his fingers pressed into her scalp once more, momentarily interrupting her train of thought. He was gentle around kids, and certainly careful and thoughtful with victims and their friends and families, but otherwise, he was intense, quick to anger (although less that in recent years) and he would sooner punch a dirtbag in the face than show him any kind of sympathy, or God forbid, leniency.

She liked that about him. She liked being one of the select few privy to all the sides of him. She liked how excited he got over baseball. She liked how excited he got with his grandkids.

At the end of the day, she could deny him nothing. Or maybe just very little. Certainly not a weekend with their grandchildren and baseball.

Her prolonged silence diminished his confidence slightly and prompted him to offer further arguments, and she should have interrupted him, told him he had her at ‘game’, but then again, he was rather cute when he tried talking her into things he worried (unnecessarily so, especially when it came to baseball or football, and of course, their families) she might not be as enthusiastic about as he.

It allowed her to (with the slightest tinge of guilt) tune him out. Instead, she fought that little affectionate smile reserved only for him, and simply observed, her mind a million miles away, even as the topic of her musings loomed barely an arm’s length above her.

She was truly and thoroughly content. The hand in her hair and his rambling voice certainly helped, but it wasn’t just that. It was him being there. It was him wanting to be there. It was him wanting her with him. With his family. With her family. It was him no longer making single plans, and only very few most base of decisions, without her.

It was her wanting all of that equally as much. There was an incredible comfort in knowing he was her partner in the true meaning of the word. It offered her a sense of safety and utmost trust, which she wasn’t sure she truly had even during the early, good and happy stages of her first marriage. Perhaps it was age and experience that had tampered the sensation somewhat, because it wasn’t as headrush inducing anymore, but maybe it was also age and experience that made the feeling all the more encompassing, more profound, more heartwarming.

She was irrevocably in love, that much was clear, but she was also undisputedly comfortable and serene in his company, and pure infatuation was not the only reason why. It was rather ironic how he offered stability and support in the way her reliance on protocol, rules and laws did for decades before him, when he so very much liked to rebel against those same things every chance he got (of course, still within the realm of legality). He was steadfast, reliable and loyal, just as much as he was hot headed, passionate and stubborn. She had grown used to it, not in a way where she took it all for granted, noone with her scars could, but it had started feeling normal nonetheless.

There was an underlying current of excitement in their relationship as well, even when they were caught up in the routine of domesticity. It was ever present, and exciting all on its own. They had been together for so long now, going on ten years, retirement on their minds even, and it had not abated in the least. Just lying there with her head in his lap was exciting in its own way. Merely talking to him was exciting. The prospect of going out and sharing him with his grandchildren was exciting. More intimate moments were just as exciting. Touching him. Anticipating his reciprocating touch. A look. A hug. A kiss. A night tangled with each other in their bed sheets.

“Sharon?” Andy’s question put an end to her distracted thoughts, and she realized she had reached out a hand, running her fingers gently along his jawline.

She kept it there, and simply smiled. “Just get us the tickets,” she told him softly, “and I’ll make sure we’re off work no matter what.”

Oh, and there was that one more thing that never failed to weaken her in the knees. His eyebrows lifted in delight, and his lips spread into a lazy, happy half-smile. And then he had to add a touch of smugness. “I knew you couldn’t say no to me.”

She rubbed a thumb against his cheek, and grinned. If only he knew the extent of that truth. Knowing he wasn’t exactly immune to her either sent another rush of excitement through her. “Never.”

He grinned back, then leaned down to kiss her. He meant it as a quick, light, ‘it’s a deal’ kind of brush of lips, but on a disagreeing moan, her head lifted to follow when he drew back, and her hand reached the back of his head, pulling him close again. It was an uncomfortable angle for them, him bent like that and her neck strained, but aside from a slightly surprised noise in the back of his throat, Andy made no protest and eagerly complied.

Yes, their kisses were yet to become even fractionally less exciting. A quick peck they took as a quiet everyday reassurance, a casual reminder of their shared affection for one another. Hard, hungry kisses left them light-headed, heavy-breathing, aroused and desperate to all but consume each other. Slow, languid, moan-inducing kisses like now were a combination of the two, not quite as domestic, not quite as desperate, but a perfect little outpour of emotion and promises for more they were in no rush to make good on. Above all, they made Sharon feel cherished, and allowing herself to recognize, experience and accept that feeling again, had taken her nearly three decades to do. More importantly, she had allowed herself to hold on to it without the salt of grain that had marked her last long-term relationship. Perhaps that was why their kisses felt liberating as well—Andy never gave her reason to doubt his intentions, and there was an absolute, maybe still naive, certainty in her that he never would.

When finally her hand slipped out of his hair, and on a sigh she dropped her head back onto her pillow, all the while smiling at him, he asked, sounding genuinely curious, but also quite pleased with himself, “What was that for?” He rubbed his lips together, only a smack missing to show he was enjoying the lingering taste of her.

She sucked in her lips, her teeth momentarily biting into her bottom lip. “Nothing,” she said much too innocently.

A low hum that sounded way too knowing for Sharon’s liking rumbled in his throat. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with you zoning out on me,” he pointed a finger at her accusatory, “there for a second?”

Her teeth proceeded to worry just the corner of her bottom lip. Damn him for being so perceptive. But then again, wasn’t that another thing that absolutely drew her to him? “I was just thinking,” she finally said, with an air of casualness.

“About me?” he asked smugly, lowering his hand to thread his fingers through her hair again.

One of her eyebrows briefly bobbed up and down. “Mhm,” she confirmed mysteriously. It took a bit of willpower not to let a smile give away her actual thoughts, but this teasing thing was one more exciting thing she loved about him, about them.

“What about me?” he added, and this time he brushed a thumb across her forehead, getting the few stray strands of her hair out of his way. He sounded less smug now, more curious, and a tad playful.

“A lot of things.” A shrug accompanied her answer.

A smirk appeared on his face, a prodding, “Oh, yeah?” on his lips.

Her tone dipped to that nearly sultry note she knew did things to him. “Oh, yeah.”

“So...” he narrowed his eyes, his patience for her teasing waning, but he spoke just as teasingly, “you were really just ogling me?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Sharon laughed, throwing her head back as much as that was possible with a pillow and a pair of solid thighs under it. “A little,” she admitted, gravely underplaying the reality of it. “And I was also thinking,” she took his hand when he pulled it away and pressed her cheek into his palm, “how utterly-”

“Smitten you are with me?” Andy quickly interjected, then barked out a laugh at his own wittiness.

She didn’t laugh. She smiled and leveled him with a steady gaze. “Very much so.” She was still affected by her earlier musings, and without much thought, more as if having just had the epiphany, she added, sounding rather random, “More than I even know to describe.”

His unexpected reaction told her she didn’t tell him this often enough, and the sudden shift in mood was practically palpable. Oh, he knew she loved him, that she made sure he heard enough, and their wedding bands alone attested to that, but she wasn’t one to linger on sharing with him just how deeply her affection for him ran. That he could just look at her, or flash her a smile, or brush a hand against hers, and a warm, fuzzy feeling would settle contently in her chest. Or that there were times when she would be so overwhelmed by his love for her that it caused blood to rush to her ears and cheeks, and that a torturous, but delicious sort of tingle shot through her, from head to toe. Or that she loved him so much that sometimes she wished they could melt into one another, blend or morph into one creature that was bound together in all imaginable and unimaginable ways. And that the fact that they unfortunately couldn’t, try as they both might, caused a physical ache she both wanted to get rid of and couldn’t get enough of.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t know all that, but Andy… he was more prone to dote on her to this degree and to remind her of the depth of his love for her. He always wore his feelings on a sleeve, while she kept hers closer to the vest. It was another thing she loved about him, but also one aspect she often fell short on in their relationship. Not that he ever complained, but his face just then had her making a mental note to put more of an effort into telling him she matched his feelings for her in every possible way.

He was at first rendered mute, his eyes momentarily widening, before his brows lowered, and they returned to their more relaxed shape. He opened his mouth with a soft expression on his face, but when no sound came forth, he smiled instead, that dopey, lopsided smile she thought ought to be illegal, because that did things to her.

Guilty over surprising him quite this much and adding this sudden gravity to their otherwise light banter, she turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand. “You do know that?” she asked, feeling even guiltier for having to ask, and after all this time at that. It was ridiculous how her earlier certainty suddenly, ever so slightly, faltered. “How very much I love you?”

He picked up on her misgivings instantly, his eyebrows instantly flew up, and his ability to speak returned with it. “Yes, absolutely, I know,” he assured her with emphasis. “It’s just...” he grazed her cheek gently with the back of his hand, and smiled softly, “it’s just nice hearing you say it like that.” Jokingly, he added, “Makes me feel special.”

She sighed at his attempt at humor. Once, years ago, he had told her he had no idea what made her care so much about him, and how he didn’t know what he did to deserve her. She thought they were past that particular insecurity of his, but perhaps she had been wrong. “You are special to me. So, so,” she kissed his palm again, “special.” When he smiled, she returned it, but momentarily averted her gaze and rather lamely said, “Next time you see me,” she looked up at him on half an eye roll, “ogling you, that’s why, okay?”

He shrugged a single shoulder. “I knew that, too,” he quipped.

Add infuriating to the list. He drove her crazy, too, but for some even crazier reason, she adored that as well. “Good,” she said, nuzzling briefly into his palm, but still promised herself to show him that more often.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead, then switched gears. “So should I rewind the movie, or,” he eyed her smugly, “do you need another fill of,” he waved a hand at himself and let the sentence end on that.

Even as she laughed, she sat up so she could snuggle into his side. Neither one of them liked giving up on a movie they started, even if it wasn’t quite as captivating as they liked it to be. Waving a hand at the TV, she said, “Please.”

He chuckled, but did as told.

If the movie was still too boring to keep her attention, and she instead stole glances at him as if she were a shy teenager on her first date ever… Well, then, it was all part of keeping her earlier promise.

And if he happened to look at the TV unseeing, and with a palpable air of smugness about him…

Well, that just meant she was doing a good job of it.

#a bit of fluff #a bit of fun #a bit of exploration #hope you enjoyed it #major crimes fanfiction #major crimes #shandy #sharon raydor #andy flynn #caught

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