#Andy does not like being woken up

[youssefguedira]

@materassassino sent me a prompt but in my exhaustion and lack of brain cells i answered the ask without writing the actual thing and then deleted it so. oops.

but the prompt was extremely sleepy Nicky is different from normal Nicky, so have a very silly little thing

"Leave him alone," Joe is saying without any real annoyance, "it's the deepest he's slept in weeks." He's in one of the armchairs, ignoring the book on his lap in favour of Andy, who's perched on the arm of the couch.

When Nile gets close enough to see over the back of the couch she has to blink a couple times: it's Nicky, completely passed out, currently with three books balanced on his chest while Andy holds a fourth. They rise and fall as he breathes. He's completely dead to the world.

"Is he asleep?" Nile asks, because she still can't quite believe that Nicky, of all people, is sleeping through that. Andy places the fourth book with careful precision and reaches for a fifth.

The thing is, Nicky has a hair trigger for being woken up. Nile learned this a week after meeting him, when she startled him by walking into the living room of their most recent safehouse while he was sleeping on the couch (on watch, but she'd forgotten) and he'd already been reaching for the gun on the side table before she realised he was even there, and then he'd apologised for the gun thing, and told her he hadn't "learned what her footsteps sound like" yet.

After a while he'd stopped going for the weapons whenever she surprised him, but he'd still wake at the slightest sound. Andy's got a similar thing going, but she's a little bit slower, whereas Joe does wake fast, but definitely isn't all the way alert the way Nicky is.

She'd wondered if it was down to what happened in Goussainville, but when she'd finally worked up the courage to ask, because she was starting to wonder if he ever actually slept properly, Joe had just laughed and said he'd always been like that.

But once Andy had decided that the loose ends from Merrick had been sufficiently tied up, she'd called for a couple weeks of downtime, and before that Nicky had been on recon duty, sleeping even less and even worse than usual. So she's not surprised he's sleeping: she's surprised he's still asleep.

"Pass me a couple more," Andy says to Joe, who sighs, but does grab two from nearby and pass them over.

Nile looks between them, and then at Nicky. "That's not gonna wake him up?"

Joe chuckles. "Not when he's like this," he says. "He won't wake for another hour or two. Definitely not until dinner."

Nile blinks at him. Joe, sure, she could believe. Andy, too - Nile's pretty sure she sleeps more during the day than she does at night. She's almost as bad as Nicky for lurking in dark rooms at night. But Nicky?

"He doesn't do this very often," Joe explains. "But the rest of us are awake, and everything's dealt with, for now, so he's comfortable enough."

"Booker built an entire house of cards on him, once," Andy says. "Record for books is, what, nineteen?"

"Eighteen," Joe says. "2012."

Andy places a sixth book and reaches for a seventh. Nile thinks for a moment.

"Only eighteen?" she says.

Andy's grin can only be described as wicked. "That's the spirit," she says. "Pass me another."

Nicky wakes at twenty-one, prompting the entire pile to crash onto the floor, which makes him scramble upright until his brain comes all the way back online, at which point he clocks why the three of them are laughing so hard there are tears in Joe's eyes, and curses them out in five languages.

But he's smiling while he does it, all the same.

#neon writes #the old guard #back on the bus. so #neon answers #materassassino #spiritually if not actually. hope you enjoyed this this was a lot of fun!! #hoping i remembered the prompt right. hit post instead of save draft hope that didn't give you a really weird notification

[atinylittlepain]

Maybe, probably, definitely

college!steve harrington x f!oc

A continuation of Warm. Steve and Andy are keeping things casual... or maybe not.

18+ 90s au in which I fuck with the timeline, smut, two scrungly idiots in love, Robin and Eddie being Robin and Eddie, generally a fun little silly little time okay? okay.

.................................................

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Please, it’s so obvious.”

“I just think it’s unlikely, is all. He had like, women losing their minds over him, still does.”

“Okay, and? Have you seen the videos of him and Clarence kissing?” Easy, easy, and warm in her little corner kitchen, something steaming and savory stirring in the pot on the stove, her hip bumping against his every time she steps away and back to add a pinch or a glug of something else to the soup, making his cheeks round and pinken every time she slides half a smile his way. He laughs, shakes his head, and she pulls a face at him, pointing her wooden spoon at his chest.

“What’s so unbelievable about Bruce being bisexual?” 

“Nothing, nothing, I just don’t think there’s enough evidence for or against your theory yet.”

“So you’re a Springsteen agnostic?” Two bowls and two spoons and one bowl and one spoon is for him, and how lovely, how lovely to have a place here with her, slipping into her spot in front of the stove to serve them both while she slices a few pieces of bread.

“Gonna have to see a little more evidence, honey.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep building my case. Robin agrees with me, you know.” He’s not sure what he makes of Andy and Robin being friends before they had even been introduced. It had caught him off guard, Andy coming with him to one of Eddie’s gigs, and her and Robin chatting with an easy familiarity. Robin had failed to mention that they’re both in some kind of feminist consciousness-raising group on campus, and have been for two years. 

“Well, Robin thinks everyone’s a little gay so, I’m still not convinced.” Darkness On the Edge of Town is crackling and crooning in her cassette deck, Springsteen walking Streets of Fire, sending them both into a little sway at the counter, the light turning blue and dim in the little square window above the sink, frost filaments and threads around the edges of the panes. And the bread she’s slicing is from some friend of a friend who’s gotten into sourdough, because Andy has friends who get into sourdough, though when she pulls the loaf apart it looks more like chewed gum than bread in the middle. They make do with a few tortillas fried and folded with a fistful of cheese in a pan instead, settling down around each other with steaming bowls on the couch. 

“Oh hey, Syl, hey, baby.” The baby in question is digging her claws into his pants leg and crawling up his thigh. Steve hadn’t met Sylvia until the third or fourth time he stayed over, woken up from a deep, warm sleep to something tugging at his scalp. He thought it had been Andy being a little mean in that way he likes, a halfway delirious smile spreading and bleary eyes opening and he had been very wrong, met with the sight of a creature curled up next to his face and chewing on the ends of his hair. Emphasis on the word creature, not cat, no. And when he returned to his own apartment that morning and told Robin he met Sylvia, she had promptly said oh, the ballsack cat, yeah. He was inclined to agree with her on that title, and is still inclined to agree now, watching the hairless animal’s wrinkles curl and fold as she climbs up his chest, bap, bap, bapping at his throat while Steve holds his bowl of soup overhead and out of her swiping range. Andy keeps telling him that Sylvia likes him, even as she curls her hand around the cat’s middle to peel her off him, her claws catching in his sweater and she really likes you, Stevie. Yeah, he’s not so sure about that. But Andy’s cooed Stevie softens him, just a little. 

“Are you playing this weekend?” 

“Yeah, just a round robin thing on Saturday with some other teams.”

“Can I come watch?

“If you want to, I don’t know if it’s gonna be that interesting though.” Andy had come to watch a few of his club basketball games last weekend, and yeah, maybe a little puff of pride in his chest, maybe hustling a little faster, maybe taking more shots. And afterward, when his team mates asked him if that was his girl cheering for him on the bleachers, he had sniffed, and pointedly informed them that she’s not a girl, she’s a woman. 

“On the contrary, I think those shorts you wear are very interesting.”

“Are you objectifying me right now?” Her thumb and forefinger pinch together, smile scrunching to the side as she tries to hold in a laugh. 

“What can I say, you have a very objectifiable ass.” 

“I knew it, knew you just wanted me for my body.” An easy shuffle, both of them dissolving in a breath of laughter and soup bowls being set aside and Andy’s aw poor baby, how’s it feel coming out breathless as she settles her thighs around his hips, making him bark a single high note when her hands creep down his back and down into his back pockets and squeezing as best she can with her hands squished between him and the couch.

“If you rip these tights I’m never kissing you again.” His hands wandering, bunching up the dark green fabric of her dress, pretty thing that he watched flutter around her shins on the walk from class to her apartment. He palms her ass, fingers pressing greedy into the fat covered by knit brown tights, little pinch, little pull of the fabric and snapped back, making her huff at him.

“I don’t think I could if I tried. They’re fucking thick, how am I gonna get you out of these, huh?”

“It’s cold out, Steven. I need them to stay warm.” And of course, of course, if she pitches one down the middle he’s gonna swing, his grin turning smarmy as he tilts his chin up to smack a kiss to her mouth that lands more on her cheek with the way she ducks him, him mouthing into her skin I’ll keep you warm, honey. 

Andy cut all her hair off recently, leaving a spiky bob that’s a little too short to be called a bob and he likes it. Before, he’d hide his face in the fan of her hair, tucking his nose into the juncture of her neck and breathing deeply. Now it’s wildly easy access to let his mouth drag up the column of her throat, making her squirm in his hands, little tug to his hair where her fingers are threaded through mean. And somewhere in the background the piano is spilling out a desperate tune and Clarence is breathing hard into his sax and Bruce is whining in that dark rasp about proving it all night, girl, I’ll prove it all night for your love and he’s humming the words into her sternum while they stumble and shrug off the couch, a small whirlwind of him rucking her dress up and up and off and she’s in nothing but that damn pair of tights, her spine curling beneath his hands when he ducks his head down and presses the open heat of his mouth over her nipple, long sigh, and another stumble up against the wall next to her bedroom door. 

He’s doomed, he knows it. How badly he wants her, and when he gets her, how needy, how greedy. Got up at seven this morning to walk across campus and shovel her stoop because she had complained about nearly slipping the other day, and it was worth it when she came down still in her robe and soft an sleepy and pulled him inside to press kisses to the already red tips of his ears and his cheeks and his nose, let him sit with a warm cup of coffee and watch her roll those tights up her legs while she told him about a paper she’s writing about Jane Ussher’s conception of critical realism. He did his best to listen, to hold onto the details even as his brain wandered to the soft drop of her breasts as she leaned over herself. And it’s extra terrible, he thinks, that she seems to want him just as much, or close to it, at least, her hands slipping up under his sweater, the light scratch of her nails against his stomach, swallowing the whine that loosens in his chest when her fingers dip under the waistband of his jeans. Hands and teeth and tongues and give and take and an indignant chirp from somewhere at their feet when he steps on what he’s pretty sure was a paw, a murmured sorry ball– sorry, Sylvia when he closes the bedroom door before the cat can slip inside with them because no, not making that mistake again. And when he turns back around, he finds her standing there devastatingly smug, because she knows, she knows how freakishly foolish she has turned him, her hands on her hips and still in her tights and that little spill of softness over the waist of them and he wants to put his mouth there, there, and bite down just a little. Normal want, right? Right. 

“Come here.” She says it again, quiet c’mere with her shoulder hiked up and her cheek dropped to the slope of it and he’s never saying no to that, bare feet padding and hands finding the soft spill of her waist, her hips, tugging down and down and down on his knees and he’s got her laughing with how he holds onto her ankle to help her step out of the rolled-down fabric of her tights, pressing a kiss to the notch of bone there for good measure. Being with her, around her, he finds himself doing things he would have scoffed at, things the king would have scoffed at. But she makes him feel young and dumb in that giddy, good way, new, makes him forget the rules he had made for himself to make things like this easier. There is nothing, he has realized, that has been quite like this. 

For all the teasing, all the little taunts, she’s gentle where it counts. Makes him feel like something good, something real beneath her hands and her mouth, gentle when she pulls off his sweater and smooths back his hair from his face, always doing that with a kiss pressed to a temple, his brow, the crinkle that pulls next to his eye because he’s always smiling like a fool around her. And when they’re both bare, a little breathless from all the little pets, little kisses, curled around each other with her duvet tugged down around their hips because sweat is starting to build and pool in the soft hollows of their skin, they hold onto each other through the soft shake of it, hips and bellies and that sweet, simple sate. He comes with his face pressed against her heart, sweat and salt stinging his eyes and her hands holding him steady and she hums his name as a high sound in her throat, and he thinks that this could maybe, probably, definitely be called love. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He can see the shadow of her smile, the streetlight outside casting a warm wash over the bed, shadows of snowfall speckled on her cheek.

“Should probably get a shower.”

“Probably.” Even as he says it he’s pulling her closer, her feet hooked around his ankles, bare chest to bare chest and her hands tucked under his arms, thumbs brushing down the rungs of his ribs, sweat cooling a little humid, the beat of their hearts lulling slow in the aftermath.

“I don’t have class in the morning, do you?”

“At eleven, macroeconomics.”

“How bleak, gonna solve the debt crisis?”

“For you, I’ll try.”

“Oh please, Steve, you can’t just say stuff like that.” Little shove to his chest, though he just holds her tighter.

“Why not?”

“You’re gross. We’re gross.” 

“The grossest, honey.” 

“I like that.”

“What, being gross?”

“No, you calling me honey, I like that. No one’s called me that before, it’s cute.” He likes the feeling of the soft, melting line of her body pressed snug against his, her words breathed out on a sigh somewhere between sleep and not. 

“Noted, honey.” 

“You’re such a dick, Do you wanna do breakfast in the morning?” A quiet mmhmm, mmhmm? mmhmm from both of them. Sleep, he finds, comes easily like this. 

And in the morning, they wake up in a different tangle, both on their stomachs, her arm slung between his shoulder blades and his hand curled around her hip. They move with half-opened eyes and hoarse voices, hot shower and cool bathroom tiles and he’ll just wear his clothes from yesterday to class, he doesn’t care. But she still offers him a clean sweatshirt from that co-op she said she worked at freshman year (don’t laugh, Steven, I had free produce for months) and he puts it on, leaves the hood up to smell more of her while he watches her move around her kitchen from the little table tucked into the corner of the room. Sylvia pads over, sniffs at his bare feet and licks his pinky toe before clawing up the leg of his jeans with her front paws, stretching out and peering up at him. He gives her a cursory pat between her ears, and she doesn’t seem to care for that, a low rumbling noise that sounds like a complaint as she pushes off of his leg and slinks over to settle on the arm of the couch. 

“I have this leftover pumpkin bread, do you want some?” Said over her shoulder while she stirs eggs in a pan, her jeans half-unbuttoned and the hem of her sweater rolled up to expose the bare round of her hip. And it’s a simple thought, but it’s true, he likes looking at her. 

“Is it from the friend who got into sourdough?” 

“Be nice, she just started. And no, it’s from that bakery we went to last weekend.” And so there’s scrambled eggs with sharp cheese, how he likes them, and chopped peppers, how she likes them, and strong coffee, how they both like it, and a heel of pumpkin bread just starting to go stale that they make easy work of, breaking off pieces and dipping it into their coffee, quiet and their knees brushing with how close they are on chairs tucked into her small table. 

He leaves her place with a warm stomach and a swimming mind and the kiss she pressed to his cheek still blooming heat even in the snap of snow and cold. And whatever the professor lectures about in his eleven o’clock class is lost to him, sorry, he’s there but not there. There but still in the doorway of her apartment, and her all but shooing him off because I made you breakfast, that’s enough domesticity for the day, mean but not meaning it. He’d linger in her doorway all day if she let him, he thinks, fail all his classes, be presumed dead to the world, and he’d probably enjoy doing it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin in the kitchen when he gets back to their apartment, dipping a banana directly into the peanut butter jar, and he doesn’t have enough of a mind to scold her for it.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Where’d you get that sweatshirt? Is it new? I haven’t seen it before.” 

“It’s Andy’s.”

“Oh, that’s what’s wrong with you. Did you sleep over? I didn’t hear you come home last night. How is your lady friend?” A waggle of her eyebrows as she pockets her last bite of banana in her cheek. He tries to side step her, and she mimes his movement easy enough, blocking his exit from their kitchen, her grin spreading. 

“Rob, please, I have a paper I need to–” 

“Oh, oh, I know that look.” And before he can ask her what she means by that she’s already shouting down the hall for Eddie because emergency family meeting is needed in the kitchen, thank you very much.

“What’s going on?” Easier to ride this out, to let Robin tug him into the living room and sit him down, Eddie on her heels.

“Steve’s in love.” 

“What? Robin–”

“Wait, with cool girl? Fuck, what’s her name again?”

“This is seriously none of your business, and–”

“Andy, with the boots, you met her last week.”

“We’re both casual, it’s casual, it’s a casual–”

“That’s right. I like her. Good work, Steven, you somehow found someone normal and cool this time. Remember that last chick?” 

“Hey–”

“With the hair?”

“She was–”

“And that perfume, woof.”

“Andy isn’t–”

“I’m pretty sure she was eating my leftovers out of the fridge, you know.” 

“I’m not–”

“No, really? Wouldn’t put it past her, that girl was—”

“Are you two done yet?” Mercifully, it’s enough to get them to stop their little back and forth, mouths shutting and faces turning to look at him like twin imps. 

“You’re in love, Steve, and before you say something like ugh Robin, no I’m not, ugh Robin, how could you possibly know that, I know these things, okay?”

“I don’t talk like that.” Eddie taps in, Robin standing smug with her arms crossed over her chest.

“She’s right, man, you’ve been kinda, well, yeah.” 

“What does that mean?” And what follows is another volley between his wretched roommates, Steve somewhere in the middle, dumbstruck.

“Sighing around the apartment like a kicked dog.”

“Getting snitty when you’re about to leave for one of your dates.”

“You smile like a freak when she’s around. Like a creepy, beautiful, vaguely Germanic doll.”

“You talk about her all the time. Like, all the time.” 

“You’re in love, man.”

“Indubitably so.”

“Hey, I say congrats, I actually like this one. Rob?” 

“I concur, bring her for dinner, this family meeting is adjourned.” Just like that, Robin rubbing her hands together in one loud clap and Steve doesn't even have a chance to get a word in edgewise, both her and Eddie already in their coats and their shoes and out the door because they both have class in twenty and bye, loverboy. He’s left on the couch in something close to a stupor. 

Maybe, probably, definitely he thinks. Though he’s not going to admit that to Robin or Eddie. God forbid they get one right. 

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #steve harrington one shot

[booksanxietyandsports]

Stephan Leyhe/Andreas Wellinger - "Quiet of the night." (fic)

well well well. what do we have here.

right after welle won the first four hills comp in oberstdorf this season i wrote like a thousand words, then completely forgot about it. i just discovered it again and in a lovely case of hyperfixation wrote the rest of it in about an hour, so do with that what you will. better late than never, right?

so as for the timeline, this takes place after andi won the first comp of the 23/24 four hills tournament. for the sake of plot they’re not roommates in this (although we all know they always share, but let’s just pretend they all got single rooms for the tour). even though it’s a rather quick and short one at 2.2k, i hope you guys enjoy it. as always, i’d love to know what you think and appreciate any kind of feedback <3

Knock Knock. 

Stephan turns over in his bed towards the door, sheets tangling with his legs. The room is pitch black when he blinks sleepily, eyes protesting the unscheduled awakening. There’s someone knocking at his door, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence in the team hotel during the tour because someone always wants something, except it’s two at night and they only went to bed like two and a half hours ago. Stephan‘s brain is still muddled with sleep after the adrenaline crash that inevitably always follows a competition, especially one as electrifying as yesterday‘s. So, what on earth-

There‘s a third knock and Stephan squints at the door as someone gently pushes it open, causing a sliver of light from the hallway to spill into the darkness of his room. He can barely make out a silhouette when there‘s a whisper- “Stephan? Are you awake?”

Andreas.

Stephan sits up abruptly, every last trace of sleep gone. “Yeah,” he whispers back, which isn’t true at all given that Andi quite literally just woke him up but he’d rather fling himself off a hill than tell the younger that. It’s not like he minds, anyway, he’s got an open ear for all of his teammates, although maybe it’s a bit different where Andi is concerned. Stephan tries not to think about it.

Andi tiptoes into the room and closes the door behind him. Darkness falls back around them and for a long moment neither of them moves. Stephan looks in Andi’s general direction and waits for him to offer some kind of explanation, to start talking the way he always does without paying any mind to time, company or circumstances. After a full minute goes by without a sound Stephan starts to grow increasingly concerned. “Andi?,” he prompts gently, eyes searching the darkness for any kind of movement. 

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up, it’s late, we’ve got training today and it’s stupid anyways, I’ll just-“ 

“Don’t you dare open that door, Andreas. It’s the middle of the night, what’s wrong?” Stephan hears Andi shift on his feet followed by the faint click of the door handle being released. The silence returns as the questions hangs between them, unanswered. Despite the odd situation, Stephan smiles quietly to himself.

“Stop biting your lip, Andi. It’s gonna be all raw and red on camera tomorrow.”

He hears Andi sputter over where he’s still standing by the goddamn door. “I’m not! It’s pitch-black in here, Stephan, you can’t even see me! How would you know that?”

Because I spend most of my time watching you. Because I could paint your face in a thousand different ways if I had just an ounce of talent. 

“Because you always bite your lips bloody when something’s bothering you. Now come on over here and tell me what’s wrong, please.” Stephan sits up straighter as he hears Andi shuffle through the room, leaning against the headboard. The mattress dips beneath him as Andi sits down on the edge of the bed next to his stretched-out legs, which isn’t as close as Stephan would like him, but it’s better than the other side of the room.

He figures this is the moment they should turn on the lamp on his bedside table since they still can’t fucking see, but something about Andi’s behaviour stops him. This isn’t like the younger at all; to be so caught up in his thoughts and feelings that it drives him out of bed in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s got something to do with how young Andi was when he started into the whole world cup circus, but Stephan has always admired how good his teammate seemed to be at compartmentalizing. One problem after the other, brain turned off periodically to rest, then switched back on to work out the issues at maximum capacity and all of that with endless optimism and a quick smile. 

So yeah, the more Stephan thinks about it, the more alarming he finds this entire situation. The least he can do is offer Andi the courtesy of keeping the lights off.

Not that it helps much. He can feel the tension in Andi’s body, every muscle coiled as if he’s preparing to make another jump from the hill. Stephan bends his knees a little, tucking them closer to his body in a silent offer for Andi to lean against them. He takes a deep breath and tries to prompt the younger into talking with an easy question.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Andi sighs. “Uh, not really. I think. Kinda been dozing on and off since we all went to bed but…time hasn’t really felt real tonight anyways. That’s so weird don’t you think?”

“What is?” Stephan’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to make out Andi’s face turned in his direction to look at him, eyes way too wide and awake for this time of night.

“This! Me waking you up at this godawful hour just because, what? I won a competition? Been there done that, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. And yet here I am and my body just doesn’t- it doesn’t-“ 

Andi cuts himself off with a frustrated sound, dropping his head into his hands and pulling at his hair. “My brain’s not shutting up, Stephan. It wasn’t like that after Lake Placid last season, right? What’s different now?” He’s desperate for an answer, voice breaking on the last word. 

Stephan’s heart breaks a little, too, because Andi sounds tired. Utterly tired; the kind of exhaustion that creeps up on you after an entire evening of adrenaline and endorphins and riding the high of a victory. He puts a hand on Andi’s shoulder and just leaves it there, applying a bit of pressure to let the younger know he’s here. His heart breaks a bit more when Andi leans into the touch, instinctively chasing the comfort. “What’s different, Stephan?” Andi repeats quietly. “This wasn’t my first win since- since everything, and it’s not like it came out of nowhere. It’s been building up for a while, right? I’ve been doing great so far, I feel good, I-“ He stops for a second before dropping his gaze to the ground. “I think I’m scared.”

There it is. Stephan has started to rub soothing circles into Andi’s shoulder and back while the younger was clearly working something out. If there’s one thing Stephan’s learned in all the years he’s spent with Andi, then it’s that sometimes he just needed to rant. They’re different that way, Stephan supposes. Whereas he himself tends to work things out in the relative peace of his mind, Andi needs to voice his concerns. Contact, feedback, the weight of spoken words in a space to be able to see clearly. And if he needs to do that at two in the morning, then so God help him Stephan will be the one that listens. 

“What are you scared of, love?” Stephan asks softly. Andi scoffs. 

“I don’t know. Messing up? Disappointing everyone? It’s like…it’s like this victory comes with a price tag, you know? With conditions. The last few years nobody expected anything. I was the Olympic champion with the tragic injury, so getting back on track was the only task I had and nobody cared when I messed up. Every good jump was a bonus. But now people keep saying I’m back and then I went ahead and won the first comp of the tournament and now-“ 

“-now everyone expects you to win the rest as well.” 

Andi deflates the second Stephan speaks the words out loud. His head drops forward, messy hair tickling Stephan’s arm. The older carefully moves his hand from Andi’s shoulder to his scalp, gently carding his fingers through the unruly strands. “I don’t know if I can do it,” Andi whispers after a few seconds of silence and lifts his head to look right at Stephan, eyes desperately searching for answers. Stephan holds his gaze.

“Listen, Andi. You don’t owe anyone anything – not the fans, not our coaches, not us. The only thing you owe yourself is to enjoy competitions like yesterday’s since you went so long without them despite always trying your fucking best. What you do is enough, Andreas. Every jump you pour your heart and soul into is enough, no matter where you rank in the end. This victory isn’t worth more than the one in Lake Placid just because it’s got Four Hills written all over it, alright? You could’ve given up long before you ever reached where you’re at today, but you never did. That alone matters more than whatever happens in the next few days. Because I know for a fact that you will fight for every point and if that’s not enough, then that’s not on you. I believe in you and so do the team and the fans and whoever measures your talent and worth by whether you win this damn tournament or not can go fuck right off.”

He inhales sharply after his monologue, which was admittedly longer than he’d planned. Andi stares at him, eyes wide and mouth open. 

“Uh, so” Stephan finishes eloquently. “You know. Don’t worry too much.” He shuts his eyes briefly, cringing at himself internally. Way to ruin this, Stephan. You’re doing fantastic.

He looks back up when Andi snorts and dissolves into quiet laughter. He can feel a smile fighting its way onto his own lips because honestly, no one is immune to the sound of Andi Wellinger’s joy. It’s even sweeter when Stephan’s the reason for it. 

Andi’s voice is breathless when he teases Stephan. “You say all that and end it with ‘don’t worry too much’? Really?”

“Well excuse me,” Stephan retorts, untangling his hand from Andi’s hair to put it on his own chest in mock offense. “I apologise for running out of sensible things to say in the middle of the night. If you’d like to register a complaint, I’m gonna have to ask you to do it at a reasonable hour.”

Andi giggles again, wiping his eyes with his hands. He looks back at Stephan then, tilting his head in such an adorable way that Stephan’s heart skips a beat or three. The silence stretches on for a while, the mood turning serious once more as Stephan practically sees Andi going over his words in his head. 

One of us is gonna have to say something because if it gets any quieter, he’ll hear how loud my heart is beating. 

Yet Stephan doesn’t break the fragile silence. Andi doesn’t, either. Instead, the younger shifts, turning to face Stephan properly with one leg folded under him while the other hangs off the bed, and pulls the older forward into a hug.

Oh.

Stephan wraps his arms around Andi’s waist instinctively because that’s just what his body is wired to do at this point. They’re usually in an outrun when this happens, but right now, as Andi is tightening his arms around Stephan’s shoulders and hiding his face in the older’s neck, Stephan would gladly never see an outrun again if it meant he could stay right here for the rest of his life.

They hug in a way that’s only really acceptable in the tranquility of the night, when the sole witness is the moon and the darkness swallows the thoughts of any consequences a touch like this might have. Time passes and while Stephan doesn’t know if it’s seconds or minutes or hours, he never eases the pressure around Andi’s slim waist. He’s unconsciously started to rub circles into the dip of it with his thumb and he doesn’t stop when he notices. Andi’s breathing is quiet and steady against the side of his neck. Stephan can’t help but smile when the tension finally bleeds out of the younger’s body. 

“Did you mean it?” Andi asks after a while, voice little more than a whisper. “What exactly?” Stephan whispers back just as softly, tucking the other impossibly closer. Andi makes the transition with ease, laying almost entirely on top of Stephan, face still hidden against his shoulder. “Everything. That I owe my victories to no one but myself. That you-,” he clears his throat, a bit awkwardly. “That you believe in me?” 

It comes out like a question and something in Stephan’s chest cracks a little when he hears it. Impulsively, he turns his head to press a soft kiss into Andi’s hair. “Of course I do, love. Never stopped. And I always will, no matter how the tour ends.”

Andi exhales then, a bit shakily but Stephan can feel him settle. He removes one arm from around Stephan to search for Stephan’s hand in the dark and holds on tight when he finds it. Stephan squeezes back, interlacing their fingers. Through it he takes everything Andi gives him; all the doubts and thoughts and uncertainty that overwhelm Andi’s infinite optimism only in the shadows of the night. Stephan knows that when the sun rises in a few hours, it’ll be like the clouds in Andi’s head never existed at all, because that’s just how he works. Stephan wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

Until that happens, he holds on tight to the boy in his arms. 

Andi doesn’t go back to his own room that night. 

#ski jumping #i’m actually scared #this was kinda rushed bc hyperfixation is a bitch i’m so sorry #i do really like parts of it tho so i hope you do too #no trigger warnings really?? #maybe very mild ones like overthinking and pessimistic thoughts #but other than that it’s really hurt/comfort #heavy on the comfort #that’s so unlike me idk what i was on #sj fics #sj fanfics #ski jumping fanfic #fanfiction #ski jumping fanfiction #andreas wellinger #stephan leyhe #lellinger #lellinger fanfic

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 5

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Fluff, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, explicit language, Possessive!Andy Barber, mention of CHEATING, discussion about BDSM relationships, mention of sex

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

You arrived at his place nonetheless.

He welcomed you with warm embraces and sweet words muttered into your hair.

No funny business as he promised. You watched an old black-and-white movie together, and he took you to bed, holding you as you both had pajamas on.

Such a sweet sweet morning when you are woken up by Andy’s firm chest and shallow breath behind your back. His arm hooks around your waist, his hand relies more on your thigh than your stomach. Your neck is tickled by his beard slightly, his thick beard which makes him look more like a barbarian overnight.

You blink a few times to see straight, onto the white ceiling.

Andy hums in his sleep, apparently disturbed by your turning in his arms. He nudges your neck with his chin, barely opening his eyes, whispering, “morning my beautiful-”

“Morning Andy.” You carefully interlace your fingers with his. It’s not that you are shy of letting his hand fall on your stomach or your thigh, it just feels … natural.

His breath stiffens, before slowly taking an exhale.

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

He was so close to letting slip just now.

He was so close to saying “morning my beautiful wife”.

Fucking stupid habit.

You turn around to face him, witnessing the moment his hand runs down his face and squinting his eyes to pull his consciousness together.

“Beautiful huh?” Small sparks of happiness glinting from your eyes, teasing him, “I’m not your sweet girl anymore huh?”

His fingers dip from the hem of your large T-shirt, possessively sprawl over your belly, giving it a warning squeeze, “Depends.” He growls, his low timbre almost impregnating your ear, “Are you going to be my beautiful sweet girl? Or are you going to be a naughty little brat?”

You reply with silence, which is abnormal.

Andy looks down at you. You chew on your lower lips, mulling over something in your head.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I-” You start, but don’t even know where to begin, “I read over the brat part in the book. I read the whole book, actually. The whole thing about the Dom/Sub relationship. But I don’t know…in the book it says every relationship is different.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I was thinking,” you panic a little and choose to look anywhere but his eyes, “I don’t understand, what does being a sub mean?”

Andy gives out a thoughtful hum, “Well, for the most part you'll do as I say when we are having sex. Though it's more of a formality, or not if you don't want it to be. For example, when I tell you to keep your hands above your head, you can choose to obey the order, or disobey it. But we both know that during heated moments, we aren't exactly in control of ourselves. So if you accidentally - and I say this because I'll know if you do it on purpose - broke the rule, I may have to hold onto your wrists with my hand, or cuff you to our bed, depending on how you behave.

“And what about... besides sex? I know that some SM relationships require kneeling at the door to wait for the dominant one to return?” You wince, not liking having the idea of a bruised knee in mind, “I don't have to do that, do I?”

Maybe he’d give you a pillow for that? Instead of kneeling directly on the floor?

A pillow doesn’t sound so bad.

“No,” says Andy, “absolutely not. I'm not a sadist. I don't enjoy anyone kneeling on the floor. Apart from if you are sucking me off. But that's another discussion.” To which you bury your face in your palms. You did not expect things to take a sudden turn and end up on oral sex.

“No,” continues Andy, “I don't want you to kneel or be uncomfortable in any way in real life. On the other hand, if you are considering bringing about this dynamic to our lives. It would be the same as sex. If I tell you something, you do it. I make decisions for you, you take it. Like that. But we can discuss about what we are both in favor of, something like if I take you out and you want me to order for you, or I'd tell you to eat the carrots or broccoli, you eat it. And you would also face punishment if you aren't behaving.”

Speaking of food, you want some breakfast, but breakfast can wait for now.

“What about other things? Besides food? Anything you say I have to obey?” You ask.

He doesn’t really mean everything he says, you have to oblige, right?

“We would discuss what you are comfortable with me dominating first.” Andy emphasizes what he was talking about just now, “we’d always discuss beforehand to make sure you are okay with this. Under that context, yes, anything we mutually agree on.”

“Like what?”

Andy eyes you. You can sense that he is going to say something that you don’t like.

“Well, drinking more water...”

You do NOT like that.

“…get a healthy routine and don't get drunk partying…”

“Ouch.” Getting drunk is fun, no one can deny that.

“…go to the gym twice a week…”

“Okay now hang on-” You definitely won’t agree to this. Going to the gym regularly? Monstrosity!

“…finish your undergrad, be hard working, and try your best to pursue your dreams…”

“Wait wait wait wait wait.” You gesture for him to stop for a second, “Gym? No. Drinking alcohol? That can be arranged. But water??” You scrunch your nose, “surely I drink enough iced americano and bobba.”

Andy scoffs, offering a sympathetic smile, “I mean water water, not the sugared crap I see you have almost once a week slurping on my class.”

“That’s bobba tea and it’s made out of milk and tea, very healthy I’m telling you-”

“No.” Andy’s decision is final, so is his unrelenting attitude, “I mean water. One liter per day. And I'm going to keep count because I know how much you hate drinking plain tasteless water.”

You grumble like the Grinch in Christmas, making a face: “Are you seriously trying to talk me out of it? Because it’s working. It’s working so well. Also, you sound like my dad more than my dom.”

“There's a category called daddy dom for a reason. But yes, I am going to tell you three times a day to drink water even if you decide to let D/S dynamics out of our daily lives.”

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim, but soon you lower your voice and start pouting, “... I felt like joining a cult. Only that this cult keeps telling me to drink water.”

“Tell me where this cult is, I want to sign up too.”

“Very funny. Says the man who drinks two Liter every day.” You bump your head on his shoulder, earning a fake cry of pain from him.

“God, don’t need to murder me even if I tried to drag you into a cult.” Andy playfully covers his collar bone, feigning injury.

“A cult that tried to make me drink water.”

“A cult that promises you six glasses of water every day.” Andy corrects you.

“Same thing.” You are not keen on the subject, so you decide to return to what you were talking about only a minute ago, “apart from the whole water thing, you’re saying that I don’t have to obey your every command if I don’t feel like it?”

“If you are feeling bratty or you don’t like my command physically or mentally.” Andy becomes a bit more serious when he’s discussing your relationship with you, loosening the playfulness in his tone as he speaks, “though you have to tell me which one was it, so I could adjust my behaviors, that you won’t get hurt. But do remember being a brat has its consequences.”

“Like spanking?”

“Like spanking, yes. But not limited to spanking.” His eyes darken on mentioning what your consequences for being a brat are, “Punishments, in general. I might get very creative if you wouldn’t learn the lesson from light spanking.”

“But we would still have the safe word during punishment? I can still tell you to stop?”

“Yes.” He kisses your forehead, “Your safety is always the priority here.”

“Can I tell you to do anything? Role-reverse?” Dominating sounds fun. Really fun.

Andy chuckles. In his wildest dreams, he wouldn’t even imagine you would volunteer for being a Dom, “that’s called a switch. If you opt to try both Dom and Sub side of the relationship. But sure, we could work something out.”

“Okay.” You grin, “I’m exercising my Dom rights now and ask you to cuddle me.”

“Wow, bossy.” Says Andy jokingly, even though he did what you told him to, looping his arm around your waist again, holding you close.

“Yeah well, I learned from the best…” You murmur, yawning into his chest, slipping back to your sleep.

You are disturbed in sleep as he has to get up to go to work, giving lectures to juniors and postgraduates.

“No no no no don’t get up.” He whispers by your ear, his beard scuffing your cheek as he places a few kisses on your temple and your forehead, “Sweet dreams, my baby.”

You grip the duvet a bit tighter as you fall asleep again. Unlike previous nights, it has been an extremely pleasant sleep, with few dreams and the feeling of you are fully charged, all energetic and ready to take on the day, waking up at nearly 10.

Spending the night at your boyfriend’s place has its perks.

One of which, to name of, you are dressed in his shirt. In your defense, that isn’t stealing if he doesn’t know any better and lets you have access to his wardrobe.

However, there are downsides to this, too. You are trying to cook yourself breakfast and spend a little while searching for salt and pepper, and later, plates and a chopping board. But the downsides are less annoying as you wander around his place and pick up the sticky note he left on the headboard, telling you that he wants you to stay at his place and you’ll have dinner together when he gets back from the start of term reception. He also says that if you don’t want to, that is also fine.

You find your way to his study. As a professor teaching English Language and Literature, Andy is no short of books and novels in his place.

One particular white-covered book caught your eye.

It doesn’t look like any regular books, and you are too curious to leave it there.

After you take it from the shelf, you realize that this is no book, but rather Andy’s dissertation from his Master’s, discussing modern espionage novels and their background setting using a theory you are vaguely aware of, mentioned somewhere during lectures.

It was a detailed discussion and analysis, though you are not very keen on espionage novels, it gives you some ideas about what you will write for your dissertation.

Maybe you can pick some other novels, discussing their background setting, but using a different theory…

But this isn’t exactly Andy’s expertise, which he told you during a dinner that he researched creative and modern writing for his doctorate. Meanwhile, Professor Johanna Klein focuses on English literature and teaches classes on this topic.

On a more private note, you do want Andy to be your tutor with your young pumping heart that is filled with your sweet boyfriend right now.

Touch call.

You put the dissertation back on his shelves, paddling around the room.

You’ve been at his place alone before, which shouldn’t be a big deal for you right now, being his formal girlfriend, even though you need to keep your relationship a secret.

…right, a secret.

You let out a small frustrating sigh.

You know it’s unethical and wrong and all that, but Andy really is a nice guy. The small debate in your head quickly forgotten when you stride to the bathroom, throat a bit dry when you remember a handful of times when he railed you in the showers or had you ride him in the bathtub. Oftentimes when he has already brought you three orgasms and you started cleaning in the hot water. When he would guarantee you a fourth or fifth orgasm, having you breathless and boneless.

You would swear to God this man has an insatiable appetite.

Shivers run down your spine. Your breath quickens.

Fuck the man does things to you. Horrible things. Even when he’s not around.

They were not all dirty showers.

Sometimes, after getting up – from a purely innocent cuddle session in the night, you’d also take a shower in his bathroom,

Due to the frequency that you stay and shower, he even bought the same brand of hair dryer, the shampoo, and the body wash you use and stored it in the cabinet below the sink. Not to mention your toothbrush and your hairbrush standing side by side with his.

You aren’t living with him. You are far from that stage of starting a life together. But close enough. Ever since you’ve settled your relationship after the first night you had sex, you have been staying almost three nights every week.

You are not thinking about living together, not just yet.

The truth is, you are thinking about it, and maybe your wedding, and maybe your honeymoon too. But the tiny voice in your head tells you that it’s too early in the relationship to be thinking about it. You still need to finish Uni, either find a job later or continue your studies in literature, and you don’t plan to actually marry anyone after you have finished your studying, which means after 25 years old at least.

Yet it doesn’t hurt to dream a little.

Dreaming that he’s the prince in every fairytale story that sweeps you off your feet. With a happily ever after.

You are still stealing – well, commandeering one of his shirts as your pj. Not that yours is broken or anything, it’s just that his felt more … home.

And curling up in his large chair and reading some boring novel to pass the time since you have nothing better to do.

When he calls.

You sit up straight when you see the caller ID on your phone, clearing your throat and pretending you have done nothing wrong at this point, mimicking the hotel front desk with a sweet LA girl voice, “This is Andy Barber’s residence, how may I help you?”

Andy chokes a laugh, “Ha.” He then pretends to be calling for business, sounding sterner, “May I speak to Mr. Barber’s little girlfriend?”

“I’m afraid she’s not available at the moment,” you grin like the Cheshire cat, “would you like to state your name and leave a message?”

He chuckles softly, “Glad you’re having fun at my place, sweetheart. But I need a small favor.”

He absolutely did not miss the first sentence that came out of your mouth.

“Andy Barber’s residence”. Meaning you’re still at his place, and that you are willing to have dinner with him tonight. Maybe he could convince you to stay a night more. Maybe he could slip you the gift he prepared days ago, just before the unfortunate night.

He’d love to see your reaction to his gift.

But that have to wait.

“Listen, sweets.” He glares at his suit jacket and his shirt, ruined by a clumsy student and his cup of coffee, “The social event – with the students and all, starts in 20 minutes.”

“The start of term reception?” You quip.

“Yeah, that one.” He continues, “my suit is damaged by a cup of coffee and now has brown stains all over it. Shirt too. Could you please pick out a full outfit, suit jacket, pants, and shirt, and drive over to my office? I would’ve driven back and get changed, but there’s not enough time to return.”

“Sure! Sure!” You jump from the large chair, your bare feet hit the ground with a crisp slap, “I’ll be -” you check the time on your phone, “be there in 15 minutes?”

“That’d be nice. Thank you. See you at my office sweets.”

“See you in a sec.”

You hung up the phone, making a beeline toward his wardrobe.

Andy’s wardrobe is just like the rest of the house, simple and plain, white and gray. It is lined with a couple of formal suits, shirts, and a few T-shirts and khakis, all of which thin and made of soft cotton, perfect for the end of the summer. A few dark-colored cardigans were stacked neatly by the corner, on top of some thicker duvet.

You pick the full set of his navy-blue suit with dress pants, and a white shirt that looks decent.

You are putting his well-ironed suit jacket into the plastic cover when you notice there’s a small bump in his pocket.

Tissue? That’d be so yuck.

You smile to yourself, carefully turning the pocket around without touching what’s inside it.

A piece of paper, twirled into a ball of the size of your fist.

Some of the writing poked through the paper – more like put holes and cuts in it when whoever wrote it crossed them out too fast.

It’s not likely that Andy would put other people’s used paper in his pocket.

So…

You are guessing he used this sheet of paper to scribble something and was done with it. By now at least.

It’s kind of bad to look through this piece of – clearly – disregarded paper, considering it has already been wrinkled and folded, folded and wrinkled. But … well, what Andy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Knowing you definitely have a couple of minutes to spare, you decide to unfold the paper and see what’s on it.

To be honest, you were expecting random scribbling and drawing.

You were not expecting … this.

-Book about D/S (SM?)

-Gift :>

-Stories: Love and War, Ari&Ana

-Text

-Call?√

Your breath hitches.

Did you just find his plan for his apology?

The “Gift” has a small smiley face behind the word, and the word “Text” has been crossed over, resembling a large black dot. “Call” has a checkmark following. Does that mean his “Call” worked? When he called you and sat in his car, or out of his car, right in front of your dormitory, having this piece of paper in his pockets? Or looking at it to make sure he got the right name and title of your fiction?

“Oh Andy…” You whisper to yourself, folding the delicate piece of paper and putting it in your pocket. It’s more important to deliver the suit to Andy right now, and you can confront him – not really, just to joke and tease him about this, and tell him how much you love him and appreciate him for this.

Taglist: @geminiflanagansblog@wintasssoldier @sapphire-rogers

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #andy barber fanfiction #professor!andy barber #student reader #dancing in the daydream #wishful thinking

[bookshelf-dust]

Hii, if you're still taking request I wanted to ask if you could write a Gareth fic where he sees the jocks annoying you and steps in (I feel like I'm feeding the 'damsel in distress' stereotype but it's Gareth🥰💞). If you won't or can't write this thank you anyway<33

I also wanted to say I love your work and writing!

my hero.

gareth emerson x gn!reader

word count: 703

warnings: swearing, jason and his goons being assholes, jason carver in general, brief mentions of anxious!reader, fluff

a/n: hi my sweet!! thank you for your request!! this is a really precious concept. i hope it’s to your liking!! i just kind of went for it and this is the result. and thank you for saying that you like my work. it really does mean the world hearing that and i am sending you an enormous hug. enjoy! <333

————

You didn’t need to be saved. You were completely capable of defending yourself—you did it all the time—and you knew that.

But the relief you felt at Gareth’s appearance was palpable.

You were having a shitty day. One of those where everything hurt your feelings, every little thing went wrong.

You’d slept through your alarms and woken up twenty minutes before you needed to leave. Gotten toothpaste on your shirt and had to change it.

Then you’d gotten stuck in traffic because of a wreck and made it into class right as the bell rang, out of breath and a little sweaty despite the freezing temperatures.

You’d been handed back your essay in class and not done nearly as well as you hoped, despite having worked your ass off on it.

Your lunch had been rushed and tasted like shit because you had an anxious stomach ache.

But it all met a peak when you were getting books out of your locker in between classes.

“You look like hell. Do you ever sleep?” Jason Carver’s voice rang out like a shotgun from where he stood next to you. You had the unlucky advantage of his locker being a few down from yours.

You were too frazzled to even answer him. “What, you mute or somethin’ now too?” That was Andy.

You shifted your math textbook. “How’s your mom Andy? She looked like shit when I left her last night.”

Jason moved in, slamming your locker door shut. Good thing you were finished with it.

“You really shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not polite.”

“Fuck off, Jason. Just because you can’t get Chrissy off doesn’t mean you have to take that frustration out on me.”

He blushed a dark shade of red, borderline purple, his brows pushing together angrily. “You’re such a bitch. You know what—”

“What, Carver? What are you gonna do, huh?” Gareth took your books out of your hands, moving behind you to put them in your backpack for you.

Jason crossed his arms, letterman jacket crinkling as he did so. “Just making conversation. What do you want freak?”

Gareth laughed. “Original. So, what’re we chatting about this afternoon?” He crossed his arms, mimicking Jason’s pose and pouting at his fussy expression.

You looked up at him for the first time since he’d appeared. He looked like he always did. Gorgeous. Brown hair fluffy and moving with each turn of his head, shoulders enveloped in a black corduroy jacket. He looked warm.

The ache in your chest that had surfaced when Jason and his goons started bugging you vanished. Gareth was good at that.

“How your friend here is a bitch and could learn a lesson in respecting their higher-ups.”

A shadow crossed Gareth’s face. Asshole, he thought, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, Carver?”

“Yeah?” The blonde looked confused.

“Suck my dick.”

You coughed out a laugh, making Gareth smile and rub his hand over the top of your back before pulling you away.

Clearly, even the idea of that was bothering Jason. He spun around at your retreat. “What the hell is wrong with you? Creep!”

Gareth turned around, grabbing hold of your hand. “Aw, you know you want to. I bet it’d help release some of that tension. Bet Andy’d help you out if you’re not so fond of me!”

Jason flushed that cruel pink again, and Gareth tugged you off in the direction of your next class, which you shared.

He stopped you in the hallway, checking his watch to make sure you had a few minutes. “You okay?” He asked, blue eyes boring into yours.

“Yeah. Thank you, Gareth the Great. My hero.” He shook his head at you in disapproval, but it was hard to take him seriously with that cheesy ass grin on his face.

“You’re such a shit.” He leaned in and kissed the top of your head, lips warm and curls brushing your skin, just as the bell rang.

He made sure to wave at Jason in the parking lot after school, which only caused a more violent blush than before and a slam of a car door. Gareth, however, laughed in triumph and practically jumped he was so giddy.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x gn!reader #corroded coffin #gareth the great #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson comfort #jason carver is a piece of shit #savannah’s fics

[lovelikedestiny]

There is a suppressed gasp that rouses Nile out of a troubled sleep filled with salt water burning in her nose, soundless screams that rip open her throat and a terrible weight in her lungs as she drowns again, againagainagain.

Heart pounding like a little bird against his bony cage she remains in her position, not daring to move, listening for another sound, an indication for what exactly has woken her. Or more specifically who.

For thirty seconds nothing can be heard except for the breathing of her new team members and the silence starts to crackle in Nile’s ears. Maybe she’s too paranoid, considering the last few weeks and their events it is no wonder. Just as she’s slowly dozing off again another gasp sounds, more clear and kind of jerky as if the person who has made the noise tried to suppress it.

Instantly, Nile raises her head, searching for the source of the nightly disturbance, and her gaze wanders to Joe and Nicky’s bed. Both men have gone to sleep as they always do: Joe plastered at Nicky’s back, one arm tightly around his soulmate, Nicky facing the door of the room.

But something is different now.

The centuries-old couple merges to one single body under the blanket but the peaceful image is disrupted by a violent twitch, followed by another strained breath. And then Nicky throws the blanket away, staggering out of bed, not as silent and smooth as usual.

Heaving breath after breath into his lungs he crouches on the floor, face turned away from Nile, who is too startled to do anything but stare at him. If she was sleepy a few moments ago, she is wide awake now at the latest.

Before she can open her mouth to quietly address him, because he obviously is not fine, he stumbles to his feet, leaning heavily on the door frame when he leaves their common bedroom. Without a second thought Nile swings her feet out of bed on the verge of running after him - the audible retching, abnormally loud in the dark of the night, coming from the bathroom makes her freeze like a deer in headlight.

“Fuck,” she whispers, more to herself, and deceides its best to inform one of the others when she realizes that she isn’t the only one being alerted by Nicky’s behavior.

Joe and Nicky always appear to know where their other half is and lay their eyes immediately on each other while Nile hasn’t even begun to notice that Nicky returned from grocery shopping or Joe came back inside after capturing a fantastic view in stunning colors on a canvas.

So it’s actually no surprise that her eyes meet the dark ones of Joe, which are infinitely deep in the soft glow of the moon, slightly lighting the room through a window. 

“Joe, what is wrong wi-?” She starts in a low voice, not being able to finish her question as Joe already starts moving. Heading towards the bathroom from where another gag can be heard, his shoulders are tense with concern under the fabric of his shirt.

Due to Joe’s sensible distress, worry sprouts in Nile too, leaving her to nervously fumble with her pillow. What the hell is she supposed to do? Can she even help? She doesn’t know the others as well as she would like to but it takes time to fit in her new team. But Nile is determined to do at least something, no matter how small.

“Who is it?”

“Motherfucking shit!” Nile curses, biting her tongue to prevent further swearing, and is proud to not have jumped up to the ceiling in shock.

Andy watches her observant, dark hair tousled from sleep which makes her look less sharp and cutting. It takes Nile a blink to get that Andy is waiting for an answer to her abrupt question and two more blinks to comprehend the words. “Oh, uh…Nicky, I suppose?” 

Goddammit is that a question or an answer, Nile?

“Nicky,” she repeats a little firmer, clearing her throat when Andy doesn’t visibly react. It unsettles her, especially because she has no fucking idea what is happening.

Andy clearly does and merely sighs, what Nile has never heard her do before. “Fine,” she says and gets up. Her steps tell from the same strength she had when Nile met her, but there is a new caution. As if she would be aware of how vulnerable she is now, without her healing. “Come on, kid.”

Nile slowly stands, torn between the urge to listen to a superior and the wish to check on Nicky and Joe. “To where?”

“The kitchen, preparing honey milk.”

Andy is already in the hallway as Nile tears herself out of her rigor and hurries after her. “Honey milk?” She asks, convinced to have misheard because she can’t picture Andy who exes a whole Vodka bottle and kills as many with her ax as a whole army, preparing honey milk. “Andy, do you really mean honey milk?”

Andy doesn’t spare her a look. “Did I stutter, kid?”

“No.”

“Then stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

In the kitchen Andy is already getting four mugs and prompts Nile with a crook of her finger to come closer. She does, skepticism still wavering inside her. It won’t sit with her right that she and Andy are calmly going to prepare some hot beverages at 3 a.m while Nicky is in the bathroom, puking in the toilet bowl with Joe by his side, although Nile has no fucking clue to what has caused this.

But as she watches Andy closely, who gets the honey jar and plops one big spoonful into each of the mugs, she realizes that Andy is, in fact, not calm.

The movement of her hands is tense and there is a deep line of concern engraved in the skin around her mouth. 

“You could heat up the milk, kid," Andy suggests quietly and Nile coughs to cover up that she was standing dumbstruck in the middle of the room, gawking at Andy as if she were some weird unicorn.

“I could,” she replies, stifling an upcoming yawn, and moves to the fridge for the milk. “if you could be so kind as to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Nicky had a nightmare,” Andy says matter-of-factly, throwing Nile a pot which she catches by sheer luck.

“Last time I checked he was throwing up and Joe didn’t seem particularly unconcerned.” Nile pours some of the milk into the pot, placing it on the stove and turning it on. “And it doesn’t explain why we are preparing honey milk in the middle of the night.”

Andy licks the honey off the spoon, keeping the metal pressed against her tongue thoughtfully. “Okay, listen, Nile,” she finally takes the floor and the softness in her eyes makes Nile swallow with a clicking sound. “We know how fucking hard the situation is you’re in right now. All of this shit is overwhelming and new and goddamn confusing and hell, you should think that it gets easier somehow. That we should know by now how to handle things like that but we actually don’t.”

Nile doesn’t dare to speak.

After a moment of deliberate silence Andy continues gently. “But I can tell you one thing: We are here to help you, no matter how. And this?” She points to the hallway where as if summoned Nicky and Joe appear - Nicky even paler, but not as troubled as before, Joe keeping close to his husband, one arm slung protectively around his waist. “Is one of our ways to cope.”

“An immortal life isn’t light to bear, Nile,” Joe says, assigning Nicky to a chair. “We witness a lot of awful things and each death is absolutely not pleasant and can be haunting too. Years leave scars on our souls, even though our bodies heal.”

That sounds immensely motivating, Nile wants to say sarcastically, an inner defense mechanism, a response to all the chaos her life is drowning in at the moment. Looking optimistic into my future will be no problem with a prospect like that. I can’t wait to accept my new hell.

None of the words reach the tip of her tongue as she scrutinizes the other team members, becoming only aware of the leaden fatigue marking them now. The smile Joe gifts Nile with is lacking radiance, Nicky’s eyes are overshadowed by the last traces of his nightmare, and Andy’s shoulders are hunched as she fills their mugs with the heated milk.

With a gentle touch to Nicky’s cheek she slides the hot beverages of Joe and Nicky over the table top, accepting their gestures of thanks with a soft smile.

“What we’re trying to say,” Nicky picks up the threads with a hoarse voice, warming his palms on the ceramic of his mug, strongly leaning in Joe’s direction as if looking for the support of his husband. “Is that however your way to cope with all of this may look like later on, we will be there for you to guide you through.”

A small crease appears between his eyebrows and not even a second later Joe slides one hand into Nicky’s hair and carefully starts to massage the back of his head.

It takes a while for Nile to click and she takes a quick sip of her sweetened milk to distract herself from the realization that…

Joe massages the spot where Keane shattered Nicky’s skull with a merciless bullet.

Keane, the nightmare and puking - it all makes gruesome sense now.

Although we can heal, we are not indestructible.

The image of how scarred their souls must be after all this time tightens Nile’s throat in a wave of empathy and shared pain, followed by a cold rush of fear at the thought of how wounded her own soul may be in a couple of years.

But beyond the unknown of this new insight a tiny bit of…something sparks in her chest, like the first ray of sunlight in spring.

Hope. Because she is not alone even if it currently feels like this.

Comfort. Because these people who have decided to use their gift to help humanity are willing to lend her a hand in this strange part of her life.

She isn’t even mortified by her suspicious sniffling or that she has to wipe her eyes - overcome by the kindness of Nicky, Joe and Andy. “Thank you.”

“Not for that, kid,” Andy waves it off, already preparing herself a second milk with honey. “Just…don’t exclude us, okay?”

Not like Booker who held his own agony too close to his chest.

Joe winks at her, the concern slowly leaking out of his posture. “Wait until you find out what Andy’s coping mechanism is.”

Andy’s head snaps up threateningly. “Oh, you fucker!”

“She likes to cuddle,” Nicky reveals, unfazed by Andy’s growl, a crooked smirk on his face.

“I made you honey milk and this is how you thank me?” Andy groans, pretending to hit him with the rag.

Despite the serious note still drenching the air Nile can’t stop herself from giggling. “So you all have different ways to deal with the shit on earth?”

“Yes,” Joe confirms quietly. “We all struggle to see the light from time to time but what matters is that we can seek strength in each other.”

Nicky nods slightly. “We are not meant to be alone, Nile. There is a reason for that and I believe it’s because we cannot bear the weight of our ability on our own but together.”

“Got it.” Nile doesn’t feel good but she definitely feels more at ease now, knowing that her new team - these capable fighters with hearts of gold - has got her back. She raises her mug. “So, who's up for round two? Andy not included.”

#the old guard #tog fanfic #tog fic #ficlet #nile freeman #nicolo di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #andromache the scythian #found family #team as family #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #coping mechanisms #everyone is soft and needs a break #this is also the first thing I've written after an eternity due to certain things in rl #so i hope this is ok

[olympianroyals]

Daphne: Crap! This is the wrong door too! This one goes out. Do you remember where her room is Irry?

Iris: No [yawns]

Daphne: There are too many doors that all look the same. I don't even remember where our room is! This place is too big and now were lost! 

Iris: I'm sleepy Nene 

Daphne:[frustrated] I know Irry, I'm trying! What-what are you doing?

Iris: I said I'm sleepy Nene!

Daphne: Don't-don't just sit there! We need to find Panda!

Iris: I'm tireed! [whines]

Daphne:[sighs] What are we gonna do Irry?

Iris: Sleep!

Daphne: Yeah but not here!

???: Is everything alright, Little Misses?

[Daphne and Iris squeak in fright]

???: Why are the two of you sitting here so late at night mhmm?

Daphne: oh, umm,

Andreas: My name is Andreas, Lady Daphne. I'm the Head of Palace Staff.

Daphne: What does that mean? Being the Head of Palace Staff?

Andreas:[smiles gently] It means that I'm in charge of all of the people who work here.

Daphne: Wow.

Andreas: Are you two lost little ones? Do you wish to go back to your rooms perhaps?

Iris: Panda! I wan’ Panda! 

Daphne: We can't sleep and Irry had a nightmare. So we were looking for our sister but I think were lost.

Andreas: Your sister? Her room is this way. I'll escort you two there.

[Knock Knock]

Pandora: Hmm?

Iris: Panda!

Pandora: Is everything alright? What happened? Are you two okay? Who did it? You can tell me-

Iris:[interrupts] I'm sleepy!

Daphne:...Had you been here for that long? 

Andreas: Yes, I have been working here at the Palace for over 3 decades by now.

Pandora: What?

Iris: I sed I'm sleepy!

Daphne: How long is 3 decades?

Andreas: about 30 years.

Daphne: You're so old!

Pandora: Daphne!

Andreas: [Laughs] I assume so.

Pandora: Is everything alright? Why are you two out of bed so late?

Daphne: Irry and I can't sleep Panda!

Andreas: I found the two young misses sitting on the floor in front of the west wing. They asked for you so I escorted them to your rooms. I'm sorry if I have woken you, Your Highness.

Pandora: Oh, it's no problem I wasn't getting much sleep anyway. Thank You for bringing them here, Uncle Andy. Come in girls.

Andreas: [Smiles] I have to say it is nice to see that you still think of me like that, Your Highness.

Pandora: Of course, you were like family to me growing up Uncle Andy.

Andreas: Of course, I feel the same. Is there anything I can do for you before I take my leave for the night?

Pandora: Yes if you don't mind, can you make us some hot cocoa with-

Andreas: with cinnamon?

Pandora: Yes, please.

Andreas: I have that done for you right away. Is that all?

Pandora: Yes that will be all. It is um ..good to see you again.

Andreas: It's good to see you again as well Princess.

Book 1: Chapter 1, Episode 8

|The Beginning of Chapter 1 | Previous | Next Episode |

AN: Before anybody asks, the mark on the back of Pandora’s neck is not a secret tattoo, its a birth mark? She had that mysterious mark there for as long as she can remember

#sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 story #sims 4 royal story #ts4 storytelling #ts4 story #ts4 royal story #sims 4 royal family #sims 4 royal legacy #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal legacy #sims 4 black royals #ts4 black royals #The Olympian Royals #TOR chapter 1 #Sim: Pandora #Sim: Daphne #Sim: Iris

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Re-Schedule Appointment

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

Unfortunately I'm too busy on Friday to have lunch of any kind, especially a fun one. I eat a granola bar in between meetings and call it good enough. By the time I leave the office I'm starving and instead of going home and feeling bad about the fact that I'm not with Emmett, I decide to go shopping. I can eat out and hopefully find some swim trunks so that I can sleep in tomorrow morning. I told Emmett in no uncertain terms that I wasn't going to look like a club boy but that doesn't mean I want long, shapeless trunks either.

Finding something cute and presentable is proving more difficult than it should be. I guess if we were going to the ocean or something I'd just wear whatever but this is Peter and Tristan's and should be a fairly chill atmosphere. I don't want a speedo or anything but I can get away with something slightly more flattering than a paper bag. I give up and stop at Target on the way home. I need a few basics, like tissues and sunscreen because let me tell you, this Irish boy does NOT tan.

I'm heading towards the paper goods when I stop in my tracks and see their pride display. They have trunks. Short but not too short, bright, rainbow trunks. I have to have them. I will try them on at home and hope that I get to sleep in tomorrow. I get home, toss my mail on the counter and try on my shorts. They're adorable. Perfect. I am set. I go through my mail and open the one from John's Hopkins. My doctor has set up my bi-annual tests here since getting to his office would be a huge pain in the ass.

Unfortunately, the back and forth between the offices means that I'm getting the notice three days before my appointment. Literally, it's scheduled for Monday. At 8:15 am. I can't do a whole morning of scans and blood work without giving work some notice. Megan is good but that's asking the impossible, especially after I was out of the office last week with the cold. I'll have to reschedule. I'll call tomorrow and see if I can get hold of someone. It is way past time for comfy pants.

I change and take out my contacts and then stare into my freezer hoping ice cream will magically appear. Emmett has some but he's with Andy which is good, he should see his friends. I don't have any here but if I did, I know he'd want me to see them. Well, Tristan, I guess and he's making sure we see each other tomorrow. Still, I miss him. I curl up on my uncomfortable couch and watch anime but it's just not the same as being with him.

********

I wake up earlier than I plan to on Saturday but my body isn't used to sleeping much past eight. It's the second morning in a row I've woken up without Emmett. My God, I sound like a needy koala. It's just two days and I need to get a grip. Still, I can't help wondering if he's awake yet too. That's stupid, of course he is because he's working today. Right? I call the doctor's office and am told that they don't have an open appointment slot for another two months. I'll probably be in Michigan by then so I just cancel. Missing one check-up isn't going to kill me, they always come back fine anyway. At least it's done.

I hit the gym and it's more than time because I've been slacking since I was sick. Staying with Emmett makes it harder to go although I'm getting all sorts of exercise at his place. Especially my throat. Damn, I wonder if he can pick me up a little bit early or if we can be a little bit late. I'm not sure I can deal with hours in public when I'm so close to him and so pent up. Swim trunks don't exactly hide erections very well. Emmett arrives at 1:15 after I beg him to come as early as he can. He smiles when I practically pull him into the apartment and attack him.

"Damn boy, it's nice to see you too," he says when I give him a second to speak.

"Missed you a little bit."

"Missed you too, Finnegan. What if I get you onto the counter and show you just how much?"

Divine, it sounds divine.

"Please."

I don't care if he wants to fuck or suck me off, I am desperate and will take anything right now. I just need him. He lifts me as I jump and my hand pushes my mail onto the floor. He's a gentleman and picks it up.

"What's this, darling?"

He has my John's Hopkins letter on which I've written 'canceled' across the top.

"Just an appointment, they didn't send it to me until today and thought I could just waltz in there Monday with no notice. I'll go when I'm back in Michigan."

He backs up and leans against the back of the couch, letter still in hand.

"Is this about the leukemia?"

"Yeah, it's nothing, just my scans and blood work. I just did them six months ago, Emmett, I'm fine."

I do NOT want him to freak out about this but we haven't really talked about it since he found out. He doesn't seem quite ready to drop it.

"Can't they get you in later in the week or something?"

"That had been my thought too but "nope, it's Monday or two months from now. Really Emmett, it's not a big deal. You're supposed to be over here ravaging me."

But he's not and makes no move to pick up where he left off.

"I don't like it, Finnegan. I don't like thinking about you in Michigan and I definitely don't like you missing your appointment. Why can't you go on Monday?"

"Because I have a job, Emmett. I can't just cancel my morning."

He puts the letter back on the counter, steps back and crosses his arms over his chest.

"You're the Vice president, I think you probably can. Look, I'm probably overstepping..."

"We did talk about you micromanaging my life, Emmett."

"This isn't what you wear or if you cuss or what time you come home from work, Finnegan, it's important. I really need you to call them back and tell them you'll keep the appointment. Don't brush it off, please."

I would go if I could, it's just not worth the trouble. 

"Look, I get that you're concerned about my health and it's sweet, really but this isn't a big deal."

"It is to me. If you don't want to do it for yourself, will you do it for me?"

How am I supposed to say no when he puts it like that? After all he's done for me? And it's not like he's asking me to do something I don't want to do or shouldn't, quite the contrary.

"Is it that important to you?"

"It is. It's going to drive me fucking crazy, Finnegan and I much prefer all the other ways you make me crazy."

I don't like seeing him upset, especially when I can fix it. 

"Fine, if it's gonna keep you up at night I will call. They may have already given it to someone else but I will ask."

He smiles and relaxes a bit and I pick up my phone. Ten long, mostly 'on-hold' minutes later I am re-booked.

"All set, can we get back to important things now?"

"We certainly can."

[lolmouseywritings]

Teaser for Only You

Hu Lixen ate the seal…

Hu Lixen ate the Stygian Tiger Seal…

Hu Lixen ate the damn Stygian Tiger Seal!

Once more, Wei Wuxian feels a deep and despairing rage as he loudly groans in frustration, only to be thrown a pillow from Andy’s direction.

“You must be at least 10 years older to have a mid-life crisis. So shut up and go to sleep.” 

“But Andy-gun-”

“No, no, no.” Andy sits up as she stares down Wei Wuxian. “We just went through the mafia, coming after you and Wangji going berserk. Now I want my sleep and you need it too. So shut your mouth, close your eyes and go to sleep.” Andy then lays back down as Wei Wuxian looks around and sees the others still asleep or just going back to sleep. 

The group could only afford a few hours of sleep before they made their plans on what to do. They were near the “airport” that would allow them to escape, but after yesterday’s debacle, the group needed to recuperate. Nile and Joe are fully healed from the fights. However, Andy still needed some time, ideally a week, but they were not willing to push their luck. At most they would bunker down for two days then leave.

Wei Wuxian sighs. He can hear the gulls in the background and can only guess that it would not be long till the sun rose. Still he felt like he had too much energy. There were still things that weren’t answered and one of them happens to be asleep next to him, on the floor. 

He maneuvers his body to face Lan Zhan who is asleep on the floor. It must be close to 5 O’clock and still there were no signs of Lan Zhan waking up any time soon. Andy was right in saying that they needed their sleep.

#Only You #only you would get yourself in this situation wei Wuxian #Wei Wuxian #Wei Ying #Lan Zhan #Lan Wangji #Andy #Andy does not like being woken up #so go back to sleep Wei Wuxian #the untamed #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the old guard #the old guard au #the untamed au #mdzs au #mo dao zu shi au #Only You teaser #Immortal!Lan Zhan

[spookiekewchie]

Demon!Andy

So did Andy and little Angel go to the church Christmas service?

New Traditions

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: demon!Andy Barber x woc!reader (little angel)

READ: LOSING MY RELIGION / CHRIST IS COMIN', AND SO AM I / CALL ME WHEN YOU NEED / A HOLIDAY READ / SALT BAE / CAN I GET IT

So this would take place after Salt Bae and before Can I Get It

Word count: ???

Warnings: General language warning, Soft dark!Andy Barber, mention of dysfunctional family, mentions of the reader being pregnant, some angst, some fluff, petnames (andy calls reader little angel), allusions to future smut

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.

You're up early on Christmas morning, purely out of habit and by the time you realize what you're doing you're standing in the closet fussing over what dress to wear.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Andy's voice startles you out of your thoughts, and when you go to answer him you groan.

"Nothing." You answer, not sure why you suddenly feel so sad all of a sudden. Well you know why, you just don't want to talk about it because you assume the conversation will lead no where. You brush past Andy, not saying anything as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. For the moment he gives you your space, going into the bathroom too brush his teeth and grab a quick shower.

When he comes out he finds the bedroom empty, but he can hear you in the kitchen downstairs. You're dumping sugar into your tea with a little sniffle when he finds you, and this time he does press the issue. "Tell me what's wrong, little angel." He urges, sidling up behind you until his body heat is surrounding you as he presses his front against your back.

You try to shake him off but he holds firm to your hips, and you huff in frustration before letting your spoon clank loudly against the side of your cup of tea. "It's Christmas, and every year for as long as I remember I've woken up, gone to church, and spent time with my family." When you try to elbow your way free of Andy he lets you, but he follows closely behind you as you pad your way into the living room.

A living room that doesn't have a Christmas decoration in sight. For some reason that just makes you tear up, and you fully blame the twins you're carrying.

"I can't spend time with my family because Thanksgiving was a disaster, my parents haven't reached out because I'm sure to them I'm just a whore that's pregnant out of wedlock, and you—" You point an accusing finger in Andy's direction. "You didn't even decorate! Every year I decorated for Christmas but this year I couldn't and do you know why?"

Andy takes a breath and lets out a deep sigh to calm himself. "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Your voice is wobbly when you speak next, eyes brimming with tears of frustration because honestly you don't even care all that much that your parents haven't tried to call or reach out. And you never expected a demon to give two shits about Christmas. That doesn't stop you from wanting to burst into tears at the loss of tradition and being torn away from everything familiar. "I couldn't decorate this year because I'm pregnant with your demon spawns and it's been hell!" The magazines on the coffee table burst into flames at your outburst, and again Andy sighs before putting out the flames with a wave of his hands. Your incidental channeling of his spawns have been happening more and more the further along the pregnancy gets.

He knows better than to tell you that being tormented in hell is actually worse than morning sickness. He's learned since the salt circle incident, and he's slowly getting accustomed to the mood swings and the outbursts that come with them.

"The least you could have done is ask me if I wanted to celebrate the holiday." You mumble with a sniffle, and finally the tears start to spill and Andy moves to stand in front of where you sit on the sofa.

"You're right, I should have asked." He says, employing the tactic that Agatha assured him would work to diffuse you during moments like this. It's not exactly in his character to admit fault, but it's better than you setting everything in sight ablaze...even if it does make his cock stir to see you wielding such dangerous power. He reaches up and with two fingers pressing under your chin he makes you lift your face to look up at him from where you sit.

"I'm not stepping foot inside a church, but I can call your aunts and see if they'd like to join us for dinner at your favorite restaurant. It can be the start of a new tradition for us." He says, and you chew on your bottom lip before nodding with a little smile starting to tug at the corners of your mouth.

"But what about the decorations?" You press, picking at the edge of your mug of tea. Your demonic lover stops himself from swearing out loud before he snaps his fingers and in the blink of an eye the living room looks like something out of a home décor magazine. You grin, your mood suddenly bright and cheery as you beam up at him. Andy just shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "What am I going to do with you." He mutters against them, and you just shrug.

"You brought this all on yourself when you stole me out of my father's church. All you can do now is love and adore me."

He supposes there are worse ways to spend a holiday that he doesn't care about. Plucking the mug of tea from your hands, Andy grins and lets a hand run over the ever-growing swell of your belly. He plans on showing you plenty of love and adoration, starting right there on the sofa surrounded by all the ridiculous Christmas decorations.

#andy barber x woc!reader #andy barber x black!reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber x woc #andy barber x you #andy barber reader #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fic #woc!reader #black!reader #demon!andy barber x black!reader #demon!andy barber x woc!reader #trilla writes

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

i am incredible

summary: these two sluts were not as sly as they thought they were being

warnings: so much smut. cheating discussions. anal shit. choking. that daddy stuff.

word count: about 10,250

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: (never again will i pick a song to use if it’s unreleased but honestly, you guys weren’t even supposed to like this. i didn’t know anyone would want more than one chapter) part 1, part 2, part 3

You weren’t sleeping, you’d just been pretending for all of five minutes before Andy got too impatient. He kissed your cheek and you didn’t move. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your collarbone, and you didn’t move. Then, he pressed a soft, wet, open-mouthed kiss to one of your nipples and your body instinctively arched up for more.

Pulling away, he chuckled.

You finally opened your eyes, sighing. “Seriously?” He’d woken you up several times throughout the night. Since it had always been with his fingers at your clit, you decided not to complain.

But now, six in the morning, you were just shy of exhausted. How did he want to fuck you this many times? It seemed a blur now, you truly could no longer put a number on how many times you had been wrapped around his cock.

He didn’t say a word, just proceeded to repeat his actions to the opposite breast.

“Daddy,” you breathed.

He glanced up at you.

“Fuck me.” Okay, so, yes, he was waking you up a little too often but that didn’t mean that you didn’t like the reason behind it. Besides, each time, he’d rolled you over on top of him. You didn’t want that, you wanted him pinning you flat down to the mattress with his body, fucking you in all the ways he promised he would.

Smirking, he placed his hand on your hip to get you on top of him.

You grabbed his wrist, shaking your head. “Like this, fuck me like this.” You took his hard cock in your other hand, pulling him toward your pussy.

Slowly, he sunk into you, watching your face to make sure it wasn’t too much for you to handle.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “fuck, fuck, fuck—” Still such a tight fit. You were sore, especially between your legs, but you couldn’t stop wanting more of him. It made no sense to you, you’d never experienced need like this. You’d never wanted to fuck someone after you’d already fucked them. All the losers you’d been with before, the idea of being intimate with them after sex made you sick.

When he was pressed flush against you, you brought your hands up to his shoulders. “Daddy, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” he muttered against your cheek. You smiled as he kissed all over your face. You were getting used to his beard against your skin, it might have still hurt, but you were starting to like it.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

At that same agonizing pace, he pulled his hips back and you whimpered as his cock slipped completely out of you. The next second, he slammed back in. Your scream was one of surprise and pleasure, a sound you immediately tried to clamp your mouth closed on. You clung to him, arms wrapping over his shoulders and he smirked. Andy was a man who needed to be needed and you more than fit that bill.

He repeated this several times. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, your wet pussy eagerly taking his cock, your shameless moans, his gravelly grunts.

“Choke me, daddy.”

One of his hands came up, circling your neck. He thrust harder to elicit those same desperate sounds from you, the ones so loud even lack of oxygen couldn’t stop them from spilling from your opened mouth.

He fucked you like this until you were coming, a slow, gentle end that left you shaking underneath him. You theorized this had to be reaching the 20 range in this small 24-hour time span. It was a lot, more than you could wrap your mind around, you trusted him. You knew Andy would take care of you, so you never once asked him to slow down.

As your head rolled back, as he continued thrusting into you for his end, he kissed all over your jaw and his hand tightened. You always knew what that meant, his hips began to snap up harder as further proof. Soon, he was spilling into you, grunting softly, as you touched him wherever you could reach.

He kissed his way up your skin back to your mouth until you had to break away because you just couldn’t stop smiling. “You good?”

You nodded. “The best I’ve ever been.”

He glanced down and sighed, preparing to move his body from yours. “I’m gonna wake up before you again, and I’m sure I’ll be hard. Again.”

“Good. Fuck me awake.”

He looked back up, eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I might have to fuck you again after hearing that before I can fall back asleep.”

You snorted. “Well, I have no objections to that.”

It had been three weeks of pure bliss and you just couldn’t stop smiling. Ever. For even a second. Well, obviously you were busy doing other things with Andy, but whenever you were alone, grocery shopping, taking Jacob for a walk, anything else, you were smiling like an idiot.

You’d only seen Jacob a handful of times. Andy knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. People were going to notice that you were at the house, but Jacob wasn’t. He just wanted a little bit of time with you.

But with Laurie being gone, you had to be extra cautious. You couldn’t show up at his work, especially not without an assignment as an excuse like the last time. That meant Andy had to indulge your fantasies as well as he could at the house.

He was working one morning but promised he would let you know when he was done. For nearly an hour, you were naked on the bed, peering into your closet for an outfit. Only, his text came before you had located that slip of lingerie and you had the bright idea to forget clothing completely.

Besides, once Jacob was back, you’d never be able to do this. You walked downstairs to Andy’s office, shameless, naked, with obvious impure intentions.

He stopped typing as soon as you opened the door.

“So…I need legal advice.”

He scoffed. “Cute.”

You moved in, pressing the door shut behind you. He shifted and swallowed audibly, eyes glued to your swaying hips as you moved closer. “But I am very poor…there’s only one way I could think to pay you for your time.”

Rolling his eyes, he pushed back in his chair. It was an invitation for you to climb on top of him. You straddled his lap, using his shoulders for balance, and immediately, your mouths connected. Andy’s hands roamed along your thighs and ass, and you ground your cunt against his cock until he was hard.

You set your feet to the floor and stood only to tear his pants out of your way. You were about to toss his belt aside, but he pulled it away from you. After you pulled his cock out from his pants, you watched his face as you crawled back onto his lap.

“What are you doing with the belt, daddy?”

One hand grabbed your hip and he jerked you closer before his hand moved down to find his cock. He didn’t say a word as you started to slide down his length.

Your head rolled back, a moan breaking the silence of the room as soon as you were seated on his lap. Your favorite thing in this world was having him this deep inside you. It felt like he was part of you, it made you forget that he wasn’t truly yours.

“Daddy, what’s the belt for?” you whined impatiently.

“Does my little girl want to be spanked with it?”

“No,” you claimed, looking back at him. But it was a weak protest, one that held no sincerity. Before he’d brought it up? Never crossed your mind. Now? Your skin was practically burning with the desire to be hit with it.

“No?” he scoffed before he leaned in to kiss you again. He took both your hands arms and brought them behind you. You didn’t say a word as he started binding your wrists with the belt.

You simply nipped at his lip and he pulled back to see your face. You wanted to ride him. That was the plan, not you getting tied up.

He saw that little pout that was starting on your lips and grabbed your waist. “It’s okay, princess. Daddy’s not going to let you fall.”

You figured out how to use your knees and thighs to pull your body back up. You bounced up and down on his cock, the chair squeaking underneath the weight of you both, a noise easily quieted by the noises pouring from your open mouths.

Andy kept a good hold on you, fighting his urge to take control. He wanted you to have your fill of this fake office fantasy, using his cock to pleasure yourself until you needed him to be in charge. But he knew he was going to need something else, hence the belt. He just needed to wait.

With your orgasm, you stopped moving. You let your pussy rest around him as you fell against his chest. He gave you the time to come down, petting your hair and whispering about how beautiful you were.

He waited for a sign that you were firmly back in reality, a sign that came in the form of you kissing his neck. That had been your little way of telling him you were ready for more, whatever it was that he wanted to give you.

He started to stand but didn’t pull out until he was on his feet. He let you settle on the ground the same way before he grabbed your hips and turned you away from him.

You didn’t wait for him to push you down, instead, you bent yourself over the desk and spread your legs wide. You didn’t care how cold it was or how uncomfortable turning your neck was. You simply waited as his hands roamed your body. He stared with your hips, leaning over to kiss your back, down your spine until he reached the curve of your back.

He pushed back in fast, your pussy echoing wetly around the intrusion. Your face felt hot, but he paid no mind to your humiliation. He grabbed the belt around your hands and pulled you down the desk a little. With space to move you, he used the belt to push and pull you along his cock. It was fast, hard, almost animalistic the way he used you.

One of his hands curled around your pelvis tightly, his fingers rubbing firmly against your clit even as he continued to fuck you with his hold on the belt. He knowingly stimulated your clit the entire time, pulling finish after finish from your exhausted body.

By the time he spilled into you, your voice was raspy with overuse, your throat ached, the muscles in your legs were burning, you were drooling all over the desk, and you knew your cunt had been dripping everywhere. You were a complete mess and he had never found you more beautiful.

It wasn’t that you thought this was going to be a summer of pure sex and you weren’t going to have to lift a finger. You remembered why it was even possible that you were staying with Andy, you remembered why Laurie had trusted you enough to allow you in her home. You weren’t stupid.

Maybe just a tad unrealistic. You had thought you were just going to be able to dive right back into it with Jacob. You hadn’t considered the fact that he had aged since you last cared for him, entering a much different phase of development that you weren’t familiar with. You hadn’t considered that there would be changes in his mood and behaviors because he missed his mom.

Not that he was saying that, he probably didn’t even know that. It was just that this was the hardest morning you had ever had with him. In fact, it was the only hard morning you’d ever had with him.

Not simply because he wanted to fuck you, Andy had enrolled Jacob in a neighborhood group. You had listened to them both speak about it a couple of nights before at dinner, but Andy had sent you a text and well…you were incapable of focusing on anything but that text and what he promised for that night. It was the first time he had to use the gag.

Regardless, Jacob was half an hour late. He was currently in his bedroom, screaming at the top of his lungs and you had no idea why. He was never like this with you. He never acted out at all. He was perfect to the point of your genuine confusion about why others didn’t want to babysit him.

Andy was going to be annoyed with you. You had one job. Why couldn’t you do this one simple thing and make sure Jacob got to his stupid club meetings on time?

It was almost fifteen minutes later after you finally had the kid dressed that you thought maybe you’d be able to get him there for half of the meeting. They called them meetings, didn’t that mean it had to be some type of weird boy-scouts thing? You had no idea, just assumptions.

Regardless, on the way out, he had another meltdown. He was in the hallway, screaming again, when Andy found you in the kitchen leaning on the counter with your face buried in your hands.

“Hey.”

You startled, turning back to him. “Andy? What are you doing here?”

“I got a call from Derek’s parents. They were wondering why Jake didn’t show up.”

“They couldn’t hear?” you scoffed, attempting to make light of a situation that was causing you extreme distress. “It’s fine, I’m so sorry. I should have texted you—”

“No, it’s okay, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“It’s fine. You didn’t need to leave work.” You tried to move around him, but he caught you by the shoulders and settled you in front of him.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Go back to work.”

“Stop,” he said softly, but it was final. He wasn’t going back to work until he got to the bottom of this.

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Okay? He’s just having a bad morning.”

“Take a minute,” he directed, sensing the stress you were feeling. “Just breathe, okay? I’m gonna see if he’ll talk to me.”

Much to the pleasure of your ego, Jacob did not want to talk to Andy. He simply screamed and cried until he fell asleep. Andy carried him to bed and came downstairs to find you trying to drown yourself in a cup of coffee.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you into his chest. “What happened?”

“I don’t know…he’s never been like that with me. I’m sorry, I’ve dealt with this a million times with other kids, I was just caught off guard.”

“It’s okay.”

You sighed, pressing your face against his shirt. “I feel terrible that you had to leave work.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He kissed the top of your head. “But I do have to get back.”

Of course. You were expecting that, but you still hated hearing it. “Five minutes?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “How about ten?”

You finally hugged him back.

He left you with a kiss and a promise that it was all okay. You felt useless. You never thought your relationship with Andy would take you away from Jacob. It was supposed to be the opposite. But then, weren’t you fucking his mom’s husband, his married father? You knew even Jacob would hate you if he found out. Anyone in their right mind would.

Jacob had slept nearly the whole day, save for the one brief period of consciousness when he asked you to make him lunch. You were still tense, wallowing in how useless you felt. But just before he was heading back upstairs, he hugged tightly at your legs and muttered an apology before scurrying off.

A few hours later, you were getting ready with your door opened, just in case Jacob woke up again. You were kind of hoping he would, knowing you would have an actual excuse out of this. But no such luck, Andy showed up and Jacob was still out, and now you had no reason not to go to the party your boyfriend begged you to attend.

You’d nearly forgotten how to do your makeup, a struggle you had just finished when Andy found you.

“Hey,” he started, eyes immediately taking you in. He wasn’t just staring, he was trying to piece together your actions. You hadn’t done your makeup or even gotten dressed up since your first day there.

You were in a tiny skirt, a tight top. You wondered if that would bother him. It never had before, but then, that was before you had sex with him. “Hey…Jacob’s been asleep most of the day. I made him lunch, he seemed fine, but then just right back to bed.”

He nodded, leaning against the doorway. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah…um, just a party.” Which sounded stupid and immature to say to him. You didn’t feel your age anymore. The people your age were seeking things out that you had already found in Andy. Why did you want to hang out with them? “Unless you need me here. I can stay—”

“No, no. You deserve a night off.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You know, I’m his dad. I’m not completely helpless.”

You scoffed. “No, I know, but I’m here for a reason…I don’t want to just leave—”

“It’s okay,” he insisted. “Whose party?”

“Um…Lily’s.” Now, you did feel like you were your age. You knew he didn’t much like Lily and he didn’t like that you were friends with her. He claimed she was a sneak, self-serving person. You figured you did not want the back story behind that conclusion of his.

He hummed. “Right. The one she throws every year. I usually have a few parents calling me afterward, vaguely asking me how likely it is their children will end up doing time for the stupid shit they do there.”

You started wringing your hands. Yeah, the party was usually horrible. People had sex with people they shouldn’t, there were fights, cheating, drugs. All of that, stuff that never really bothered you, things you were simply uninterested in.

“But I know you haven’t really talked to anyone but me for the past three weeks, it’ll be good for you to get out.”

“I’m fine just talking to you, though,” you promised. “You’re not terrible company.”

He smiled. “Just be safe, and call me if you need anything. Okay?”

You nodded and then he was turning to leave. “You’re not going to kiss me?”

He scoffed, keeping his back to you as he stopped in the doorway again. “If I do that…I risk not being able to let you go.”

After all the things he’d done to you, that shouldn’t have been able to give you butterflies. Yet, it did. You stood there, biting your lip and smiling as he rushed out of the room. He hadn’t told you that you looked beautiful, but that was more than enough to give you all the confidence you needed to face your overly critical friends.

Hours later, you returned much later than you had planned. You hadn’t intended to stay with Lily to clean up, but you ended up being there near the end and it was clear no one else was going to help. Once she asked you about the huge fight with your boyfriend, you knew it would just be better to stay behind a little. You had to vent before you went back to Andy.

Three in the morning but he was still awake, so was Jacob. At three in the morning? You weren’t trying to be judgmental…but, what?

“He’s sick,” Andy explained. “A fever…I don’t want you catching it…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I get every vaccine I need to stop these walking germs from getting me sick.”

He scoffed. “A positive way for a babysitter to talk about children.”

“Y/N,” Jacob called out, pointing to the screen. “Finish the movie with us?”

You had sobered up a little so you were sure you would be able to. You made your way to the couch next to Jacob and he detached himself from Andy to lay his head on your hip. You pressed your hand to his forehead and made a sympathetic noise when you felt how hot his skin was. “Oh, baby—goodness.”

“It’s okay,” Jacob promised. “Because you’re here and you’re my favorite person and you’ll make me feel better, and my dad is going to come home early every day until I’m not sick anymore. And he’s one of my favorite people, too. Sometimes.”

You sent Andy a smug smile and he arched an eyebrow back, amused. You knew it wasn’t like he wanted you to be Jacob’s mom, but he must have felt something deep and twisted over the fact that you were in his home, caring for his son who he loved more than anyone else in the world. Andy was a domestic man who you were sure was affected by you behaving in domestic ways.

He used his son’s distraction as an opportunity to really watch you. He knew something was off—you’d walked home instead of calling him or getting a ride from your loser boyfriend, you had your heels in your hands when you showed up, and your makeup was missing, cried off or faded with something else—but it was clear that he wasn’t going to find out what that was for a while.

Jacob immediately started filling you in on the movie and Andy paused it to get something from the kitchen. He returned with a plate of Jacob’s favorite fruit—cantaloupe, weird kid—and a glass of water for you.

If you hadn’t been so tipsy, you might have been able to figure out the movie. Instead, it was just a bunch of noise and movement that you could hardly focus on. It was hard being back in that environment. You felt that you didn’t fit in with those people anymore, that your life had changed so much, but you also felt a little lonely. You couldn’t stop seeing your friends.

Before Andy went to put Jacob to bed, he directed you to get in the shower. By the time you were getting out, he was just making his way in. He wrapped you up in a fluffy towel and kissed you until you were dried off. “You good?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He was extra careful with your hair before he slipped you into one of his shirts. Much to your surprise, he didn’t ask anything else, he didn’t even speak. He simply put you to bed and explained that he had a couple of emails to answer before he could turn in with you for the night.

When you woke up, it was morning. You put on some leggings and rushed downstairs. You usually woke up at 8 to get ahead of Jacob. Apparently, Andy had woken up extremely early to make breakfast, a plate of pancakes was left for you, next to a note explaining Jacob was at Derek’s again and he would pick him up on his way home.

Derek was sick as well and Derek’s mother, Dina, was staying home anyway and offered to take Jacob. That was one family you never babysat for. The winter of 2018, Maya, a girl two years older than you had fucked Derek’s dad and Dina found out. It was a huge thing and since there wasn’t going to be a divorce, Dina refused to let anyone babysit for them ever again. Any time she had a conversation with Laurie and Laurie would suggest you take the kids so they could spend some time together away from their motherly jobs, it was clear that Dina didn’t trust you. She also got super judgmental toward any of the mothers who needed help. So yes, you were just a bit annoyed that Andy had taken him there.

When Jacob and Andy got home, Andy said he had work to do in his office. You and Jacob spent the rest of the day watching pre-approved scary movies. Since Jacob was sick and couldn’t stay awake for longer than 30-minute periods, it was a pretty quiet afternoon.

When Andy finally came out of his office, it was to check on you and Jacob. He carried his son upstairs and told you to get some rest. You thought that was strange, you thought he would have wanted to talk about the party. But since he promised to join you in a couple of hours, you didn’t protest.

When you woke up the first time, the clock informed you that you’d only been unconscious for about two hours. Andy wasn’t in bed yet, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay conscious enough to go look for him and lure him into bed. Instead, you used your energy to get into the bedside table because tired or not, you were always thinking of ways to tease Andy.

The second time, it had been a total of nearly five hours and Andy still wasn’t in bed. Regardless of if you were sufficiently awake, now you were just worried. You got yourself out of bed and headed downstairs, finding him on the couch in front of the television again.

“Daddy?”

He turned to you, sitting up straight. “What’s wrong?”

You almost smiled. Of course, his automatic thought would be that you were seeking him out because something was wrong. Well, something was wrong, it had been too long since he was inside you, but you were sure that wasn’t what he meant.

“Nothing. What are you doing down here?”

“Just can’t sleep.”

“Well…you could be upstairs with me,” you pointed out.

“Looked like you needed rest.”

“I need you more,” you assured, moving closer to him. “Always.”

“Come here.”

You needed no further prompt, stopping just inches away from him. He curiously watched as you took his hand and guided him under the shirt. He thought you were going to lead him to your pussy, but you went around, letting him feel the plug that you had slipped in earlier that night.

He yanked his hand out of yours and grabbed your ass.

You gasped, hand flying up to your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Jacob was here, this wasn’t even supposed to be happening, but neither of you were going to say no at that point.

He gripped your skin tightly until you whimpered softly, then he got a hold of the plug and slowly pulled it out.

You brought your free hand back to grab his forearm for balance. Your legs shook as he gently pushed it back in. “Daddy, fuck.” You were so deliciously stretched and worked up since you’d put the plug inside you, desperate for him to make you come.

He did this several more times, careful not to make you cry out too loud, but enjoying how much easier it was becoming each time he did it. He stopped only to move his pants out of the way, keeping only his boxers on. He made sure the plug was settled inside you before he pulled you in to sit on one of his thighs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned against him. “Are you worried about a case, daddy?”

“No, just not tired.”

“But you’d tell me if there was something wrong?”

“It’s not your job to take care of me. It’s mine to take care of you.”

You frowned, pulling back to look at him. “Why can’t we take care of each other?”

“Come on, don’t be argumentative tonight. Did you have fun at the party?”

You scoffed, settling back against him. A conversation for later, apparently. “No…not really. I…I guess I just kind of missed you.”

He hummed. “I missed you, too…but you shouldn’t cut your friends out of your life.”

“Those aren’t my friends. They’re just my parents’ friends’ kids… I’m not trying to ignore them, I’d really just rather spend time with you.”

He touched your face and you turned, nuzzling against the palm of his hand. “You didn’t have any fun?”

“Well,” you admitted, “I don’t hate everyone.” Besides, Lily had gotten really drunk really fast and was trying to fight with some high school dropout that was several years older than everyone because he was trying to prey on some freshman girls.

He hummed as he removed your arms from his neck. He then took your waist and turned you forward.

“What are you doing?”

“You wearing panties?”

“No…I was hoping you would eventually join me.”

“I’m sorry for getting distracted.” His hands started at your thighs and you instinctively pulled them open more.

“Daddy, please.”

“If we do this…you’re going to have to be very quiet, baby.”

You nodded. “I will, daddy. I promise I’ll be so quiet.”

“I know you will, baby girl, because you’re such a good girl. And good girls don’t lie to their daddies, do they?”

“No. Never.”

“Did he touch you?”

Your eyebrows pulled together and you looked back at him curiously.

“Your boyfriend.”

“Oh…no.”

“You need to tell me. You got here and you were upset, and I can’t help if you don’t tell—”

“No, it wasn’t that… We broke up.” Though you simplified it, it was anything but simple. He had cornered you at the party, and you were scared he would cause a scene, so you suggested going upstairs. He thought that meant sex and when you informed him that was the last thing on your mind, he began accusing you of cheating on him.

He said he wanted to break up. Obviously, you didn’t want to put up much of an argument. He didn’t deserve what you were doing to him, no one did, no matter how much of a dick he could be. Cheating was cheating, two wrongs didn’t make a right, that meant you weren’t about to manipulate him into continuing the relationship.

Even after all the terrible things he said, you only cried for two reasons. First, your alibi was gone. If you weren’t dating him, that would open the door for questions about your romantic life. Second, you realized you were always going to need an alibi when it came to Andy. Because he was married. He was older than you. He had a child. To some people, you were just a child.

You spiraled a little, overly emotional because of the alcohol. You were just wondering what all of this meant. When Laurie got back, what? Were you guys over until the next time she was gone? Were you going to have to get yet another boyfriend just to hide again? Would you have to go back to just texting every night?

“Oh…and you were upset about that?” He seemed a little bothered by the idea of you caring about your boyfriend. After everything.

You made a face. “No, definitely not.” It was hard to care about someone who talked to you the way he had at the party. Though, not all of it was completely unwarranted.

“Then I’m lost, sweetheart.”

“I just…I just feel bad for lying. I feel like a bad person, I guess.” Now, that was not untrue. You were not lying to him. But you could not, under any circumstances, explain the emotional episode you had worked yourself up over to Andy.

“You’re not a bad person.”

You were. What cemented that was that you were more upset about having to hide your affair than the fact that you were having an affair.

“You know I think you’re the sweetest little girl,” he reminded. He kissed your face until you couldn’t help but smile.

“I know,” you confirmed.

“I don’t want you worrying about any of this, okay? It’s on me. I touched you first, I started this—”

“It’s cute that you think that.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Excuse me?”

“Andy, come on. You had to know, all those times in the car, that I was wearing the tiniest skirts, acting like I had no idea that they were moving up—”

“You tempted me but I was the one who took the bait,” he insisted. “Baby, it’s not on you. You’re not married, I am. You don’t have a child, I do. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you, but I do. I’m the one that’s wrong, okay? Not you…you…are perfect.”

You kissed him. “I don’t think you’re a bad person either, though.”

“I know you don’t. You’re too nice for that.”

“You think I’m nice, daddy?” you teased, one of your hands moving inside his boxers. You took a hold of him and he sighed sharply.

“You can be a brat, when you put your mind to it,” he admitted. “Like this stunt with the plug. I never gave you permission to do that.”

You merely shrugged. “I don’t want your permission.”

“You better watch yourself. He will be gone soon enough, and I’ll spank your ass red, baby.”

You hummed. “With the belt?”

He kissed your cheek. “I’ll get more creative if you keep mouthing off.”

You smirked, pushing your hips up his thigh. It was a little awkward getting him out of his boxers and inside your cunt, but once you had managed, you were both moving on pure instinct and need. He touched you everywhere, through the huge shirt you were wearing because he wanted to tease. You rolled your hips slowly in that deliberate way that you knew made his ability to control himself just snap.

It was only minutes later that his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing hard enough that you knew you wouldn’t make enough noise to wake Jacob. Andy took his other hand and held you inches above his lap. He drove his cock up hard, slamming into you ruthlessly until you were both coming together. Your mouth dropped in a silent scream, a choked whimper the only sound you could manage, as he pressed his face to your back and groaned.

It didn’t take long at all, must have been withdrawals from having gone more than a few hours without him inside you. He didn’t stop, though. In typical Andy fashion, he kept fucking you until he was soft. His cum had spilled out of you onto your thighs, his, and the couch.

When he let go of your neck, you took huge, grateful breaths. You couldn’t stop yourself, you knew you were about to say something stupid, so stupid, but you wanted Andy to know. You reached one arm back, hand pressing to the back of his head and you turned back to see him. “Daddy…”

“What, baby girl?”

“I think…I think I lo—”

He cut you off with a fierce kiss until you were breathless again, pulling away only when he had sufficiently rendered you incapable of speaking for a moment. “I know, baby,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “I do, too, so much…but we can’t say it. Not right now. All night, I’ve been thinking the craziest things…if you say it, I’m sure I’ll just lose my mind and do something we’ll both regret.”

You waited for a moment, until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack. “When?”

He frowned. “One day, angel, I promise. Okay? Just give me a while to figure this all out.”

You nodded. Of course, he had to think this all through. He had a life, a child, and even if he didn’t love Laurie anymore, he still had a lot to lose.

“What are you thinking?”

You thought for a moment. Your mind was racing, you were thinking a million things. You’d nearly told him you loved him, you’d never said that to anyone. You had almost convinced yourself that he would be furious that you allowed yourself to get in this deep, but the fact that he was right there with you was a huge relief. But that wasn’t the most pressing thing on your mind. “That this summer is going by too fast.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I haven’t talked to my parents once…and I wish I could keep it that way for the rest of my life.” But eventually, you would have to return home.

“I think I should get you an apartment.”

You looked back at him, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“An apartment,” he repeated. “So, you don’t have to stay at home anymore. I know you were thinking about getting a job at the end of the summer…I don’t want you to. I want to get you an apartment and just let you figure out what it is that you want to do. No pressure from your parents or your friends.”

“Andy…I don’t know.” That would be kind of hard to explain. How was someone without a job going to afford an apartment?

“Let me take care of you. Please.”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? When it gets closer.”

“Okay,” he relented. He glanced down at the mess you’d both made of the couch. “Shit.”

You scoffed. “Your fault.”

He kissed your shoulder. “You want to get up?”

“No, not really.” You took his arms and pulled them around your waist. “I want to stay here forever.”

“We can’t even stay here another hour.”

“No, I want to fall asleep here. With you inside me.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, laying against his chest and setting the back of your head on his shoulder. “Yeah.”

“Then what?”

“When you’re hard again, you should fuck me, but don’t wake me up. I want to wake up full of your cum and imagine all the ways you used me.”

That did nothing for Andy, the idea of fucking you while you were unconscious. He knew it was a kink for some, but he wanted you responsive. However, hearing that you would allow him to do this to you, that you were placing that much trust in him, did do something.

In a second, he had his hand back around your neck and his other hand at your pussy, hurriedly rubbing his fingers over your clit. He turned his head, his lips finding yours, swallowing those tiny sounds that managed to escape you.

Jacob was still sick a few days later and since Andy was at work, you were bored. He was sleeping it off and that left you downstairs trying to watch television. Your mind was moving with all this time alone, you thought about Laurie and what was going to happen. You thought about what people would say about you, about Andy. It would be terrible if anyone ever found out.

But what if they didn’t because nothing changed? You knew how you felt for Andy, but how long could you do this? How long could you fuck him while he was still with his wife? These were things that you hadn’t suspected you would care about. You were stupid then, acting purely out of your own selfishness. You just knew you wanted him so badly. And you were sure you always would, but you couldn’t do this forever.

You’d set your alarm for when Andy was supposed to be home. You didn’t want him to catch you watching those trashy true crime shows, he would surely side-eye you. It hadn’t been that long when you heard someone on the porch. Turning off the TV, you checked the time. It wasn’t time for his lunch break, let alone time to be home.

You headed to the door, peeking out the window at the side. Lily was standing there, arms crossed, pacing. You pulled open the door, leaning out just slightly.

She let her arms fall to her sides. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here? I can’t have anyone in here if I’m the only one with Jacob.”

“No worries, it won’t take long. Can you step outside for a second?”

“Is everything okay?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

You hesitated at first, concerned that Jacob would wake up and go looking for you. But your curiosity was the reason you went outside with her. You guys weren’t best friends, you had no idea why she would ever show up here to speak to you. “What’s up?”

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” But just like that, your heart was pounding. You felt like your legs were going to give out on you any second. Your stomach was twisting and your face felt hot, you were going to be sick.

“Mr. Barber,” she clarified. “You are fucking him.”

There was no way anyone in the world could possibly know. You scoffed harshly, feigning irritation. “You are out of your mind. Is this why you came here? This is not okay. I am working and you are wasting my time—”

“You haven’t been talking to any of us, and after your breakup…it seemed weird. I was talking to him and—”

“Why were you talking to him?” you demanded. “You’re supposed to be my friend, not his.”

“He said he thought you were cheating on him, and I told him that wasn’t possible. I told him that you seem so happy and so in love, and I realized that that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in love with him. I babysit for the Yoo’s neighbors, Y/N. I know Jacob was there for days and you were here.”

“No, that’s not happening. You’re projecting because you sleep with all of the father’s you babysit for—”

“Yeah, I do, so drop the innocent act because I know it’s bullshit.”

“It’s not. Andy wouldn’t do that.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she claimed. “And I believed that, for a while…but he’s human. And if he cares about you, he definitely would.”

“He doesn’t, he’s in love with his wife—”

“Yeah, what about her?” she demanded. “What are you going to do about that? Is he going to leave her?”

“No!” you blurted out. “Because nothing is happening.”

“I’m not planning on telling anyone,” she promised. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Well, it’s not happening.”

“I already know, I can see it on your face!”

“You need to leave.”

She grabbed your arm before you could run inside. “Listen, I just wanted to check on you, okay? I know how you are; I know that you don’t do this often, and that means that you have to honestly care about him. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You can’t be here. Ever again.”

She pulled her hand back. “Fine, I will go, and I’ll never say another word about this. But when this blows up in your face, you know where to find me.”

Without another word, you disappeared inside, locking the door as soon as you slammed it shut. You were panicking. What were you supposed to do? Should you tell Andy? What if it was for nothing? What if she meant it and she wasn’t going to tell anyone? You didn’t want to get him worried for no reason.

But you also didn’t want him to be caught off guard, but the last thing you wanted was for him to be upset with you. Would he think that you were being careless? Would he think you let her know on purpose? Laurie was a looming problem, you didn’t want him to think you did this to force him to deal with it.

“Was that Lily?”

Startling, you whirled around and found Jacob in front of the fridge. “Hey, what are you doing down here?”

“Got hungry.”

“How long have you been awake?”

He shrugged as he pulled out the carton of milk. “Not long. Why was Lily here?”

“Oh…um, she just wanted to talk.” You moved into the kitchen to look for the cereal. Jacob couldn’t reach it on his own.

He sat down at the table and waited for you to join him. You poured the cereal and the milk into the bowl in front of him, forcing yourself to remain calm. “Why did she ask if my dad was going to leave my mom?”

You looked at him, shaking your head. “She didn’t. No, she wasn’t talking about your dad or your mom.”

“Then who was she talking about?”

You stood up to get him a spoon. “I can’t tell you that…it was one of your friends and I don’t want you to worry or anyone else to worry. You know Lily, Jacob.”

“Yeah…my dad says she gossips.”

“She does.” You sat back down, handing him the spoon.

“So, my dad and my mom are still in love?”

“Of course. Why would you ask that?”

“They used to fight a lot.”

He hadn’t told you that, but this needed to end right now. This all needed to stop. “No, they’re fine. Sometimes…adults just fight, but that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t want you worrying about this, Jacob, okay?”

“I’m not worried.”

“Good.”

“No, I mean…I think it would be cool if I had two houses and two bedrooms. My friend, Dylan, has divorced parents and he said they both buy him whatever he wants. My dad wouldn’t buy me a pet snake when I asked him last week.”

“Okay, well, sorry to disappoint you because your parents are staying together. You only get one house and one bedroom, and you are not getting a pet snake.”

He sighed. “I was going to name it after you if you were on my side.”

You couldn’t ask Andy anything about the fights with Laurie. You wanted to know, you wanted to get an idea of how he felt, if he had only done this with you because they were fighting, or if it was something that you had caused. But to ask, you would need to tell him Jacob told you.

And why would Jacob tell you? You would have to answer a lot of questions that you didn’t want to. It was better to pretend that this just wasn’t happening. No one knew, as far as Andy needed to know. You’d known Lily since you were four, you were sure that she meant it when she said she wasn’t going to tell.

You didn’t need to act like the sky was falling just yet.

When Andy got home, you were just getting out of the shower. Jacob had fallen asleep again and from his past few days, you figured he would be out for the rest of the day.

He smiled as he made it into your room, pressing the door shut behind him. “Hey, baby.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and held your arms out to him, hugging him as soon as he was in your reach. “You have the strangest kid in the world, just so you know.”

He became very still. “Did he do something?”

You leaned back to look up at him, eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“He just…sometimes…acts out. You saw him the other morning.”

“No, that was a temper tantrum, Andy, all kids have them. But I’m referring to the snake he wants. He told me, that if I had been on his side in that argument, he would have named it after me.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, he says some…colorful things sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “What about you? What else did you do today?”

“Just watched TV.”

He hummed, hands coming up to the tucked-in part of your towel. You let him unwrap it from your body and laid back as soon as you were naked. He stared at you for a moment, one hand coming up to touch your face. He started at your cheekbone, sliding his fingers down your jaw, your neck, your chest until he was at your breasts. He closed his hand around one, pulling back to pinch your nipple, and did the same to the other.

You liked fucking Andy, but you hated having to be quiet. You reached down and he gave you his hand. You brought it up to your lips first, kissing his palm before you led him down to your neck.

As he wrapped his hand around you, his fingers continued moving down your stomach, until he was at your cunt. You opened your legs for him, and he slowly pressed two fingers inside you. Your eyes fell shut and you rolled your hips, urging him deeper inside you.

“I could watch you like this, naked, coming for me, for the rest of my life.”

Not that that really cleared anything up. It only reminded you that he cared for you, the same way you cared for him. But you weren’t a child, you knew that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

“I just want to know why you didn’t tell me; I want to know why you treated it like some huge secret.” Andy had been going on for the past ten minutes, appalled at the idea that you would keep any secrets from him.

It wasn’t as if this relationship started on the best note. You were both supposed to be committed to other people enough that you wouldn’t have been involved with other people. And no, you weren’t saying that either of you were terrible people who never deserved happiness, but he should definitely reframe his expectations.

If you could partake in an affair, you could keep a secret.

“Do you have an answer?” he pressed.

You could remember a time when car rides with him were a lot more pleasant. Crossing your arms, you turned to glare out the window. “You know why.”

“Because you were ashamed.”

You turned back to him. “No, because you’re a snob!”

“I’m a snob?” he demanded. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” You rolled your eyes, changing the radio station.

He gave you a warning look as he went to change it back.

You turned it off. “And you’re judgmental.”

“I am not,” he argued. “I am a lawyer. If I wanted to judge, I would have.”

You made a face. “You would never win that election. You’re a jerk.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“What someone watches on television is their own business!”

“It’s dramatized trash.”

“You’re a snob!” you repeated. “A Crime to Remember has won an Emmy!”

“That is not as good of an argument as you think it is.”

“Do not speak to me like a lawyer,” you warned. “Do you want to argue, Andy? Do you want me to go round up a fucking judge and a jury?”

“I’m the best lawyer in Massachusetts.”

You glared at him. “Thank you, I now know what I want to do with my life. I’m going to law school and then I’m going to become a lawyer and you know what? I’m gonna ask Neal to be my mentor.”

He looked at you, shocked that you would say that to him.

You shrugged. “I bet he wouldn’t judge me for watching true crime shows.”

“How far does this go?” he wondered. “Do you watch those terrible Netflix documentaries?”

“They’re not terrible! Okay, you know what? We are done talking about this. Why is this drive taking so long? I thought we were picking up Jacob.”

“We are…later tonight.”

“Then where are you taking me?”

“You watch true crime shows, haven’t they prepared you for this?”

You glared. “Andrew.”

“No, don’t call me that.”

“I’m not calling you daddy. My daddy isn’t a snob.”

“Your daddy is going to punish you tonight if you don’t quit with the attitude.”

“My daddy,” you said again, “tells me where he’s taking me.”

It was only seconds later that he pulled into a parking spot in front of this apartment complex you always drove by on the way to the nearest shopping mall. See, you knew that he wasn’t going to drop the apartment topic, but you did not suspect that he would ambush you like this.

“Andy…”

“Look, we have to talk about this.”

“We did, and I said we would resume the conversation when Laurie was almost back.” This was not a solution; it just created more problems. Maybe you should have told him about Lily, maybe he would have felt the need to be a lot more discreet about all of this.

“She called.”

You turned to him. “And? What does that have to do with anything?”

His hands were still on the wheel and he wouldn’t look at you. “She’s coming home early.”

Early. Wow. It seemed like it was just right around the corner but at least you were going to have time to come to terms with this. At least you were going to be able to make the best of your last days. The best did not include arguing about television. And now you were going to have to argue about this stupid apartment. These were expensive and they were close enough to him, but still, it wasn’t ideal.

“Oh… When?”

“Soon.”

You wouldn’t be getting a more specific answer than that. You both stayed silent for several moments, and you had no intention of ending that. He could have told you this before. He didn’t need to lie and bring you here and then throw the news on you like that. Was he just planning on moving you out and starting this stupid apartment plan?

You were supposed to have a month left, an entire four weeks before she got home. Why the hell was she coming home early? She had seemed excited for the work trip, whatever it was. You couldn’t remember anymore.

“Say something.”

You scoffed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Just be honest.”

“I’m upset.”

“I know, I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“I’m not upset with you, Andy.”

“Why don’t you want this apartment?”

“Because…I just…I don’t know. I just wanted everything to stay like it was. I…wanted everything to pause.”

He set his hand to your thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “I understand. Will you please come inside with me? Will you at least look at it?”

“I guess…” You shrugged. “I guess we don’t have many other options.”

It was just an apartment. Were you supposed to fall in love with it? You didn’t like the picture that you were getting from it. The living room, you would be waiting there every day for Andy to possibly sneak away and come see you. And for how long? An hour at most, before he had to get back to work or get home to his family. The bedroom was big for nothing. It was a bedroom for two people. The same with the kitchen. It was too big for you, you would get lonely in a place like this.

No more than 50 words were exchanged between you and Andy. He was mostly speaking to the woman giving the tour, and you lagged behind them like a miserable child about to throw a tantrum. You hated this beyond comprehension. You hated that she was coming home early. And you hated Laurie, which made you feel terrible.

It wasn’t her fault, none of this was. But you didn’t want to go home, and you didn’t want to have to live alone. You blamed this current predicament on her even though you knew that was irrational and out of line. You were fucking her husband, you were living in her home. But you were still so angry.

The drive was silent as well. He tried to hold your hand, but you pulled away from him and turned to stare out the window. You didn’t want to take it out on him, but then, it wasn’t like you could or should take it out on Laurie. Maybe you should call Lily and just be a bitch to her.

You were out of the car as soon as he parked, storming to the door. It wasn’t a completely logical plan since he needed to unlock the door.

“Are you going to speak to me?” he inquired after he opened the door.

“I don’t appreciate being ambushed like that.” You stormed in and started pulling your jacket off.

He assisted you, figuring the denim getting stuck on your sleeves would only further annoy you. “If I had been honest, you wouldn’t have gone.”

“So, that makes lying to me okay?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You turned to him, glaring. “What are you saying?”

He wasn’t sure what he could say that would make you feel better. This was terrible and he knew it, but you weren’t the only one that felt that way. It wasn’t like he was going to be happy with the new arrangement. He liked seeing you every morning and every night, he liked falling asleep next to you.

“Look at you two, fighting like a married couple.”

It was Laurie’s voice and you and Andy instantly froze upon that realization. You turned to your side, finding her at the dining table. She had her hair in a bun, not an ounce of makeup on her face, but the red lines in her eyes told you the glass of wine in her hand couldn’t have been the first.

“Hey,” Andy greeted. “I thought you were getting here next week.”

“I lied,” she asserted, her eyes flitting between you two. “I wondered if I would walk in on you two actually having sex or if it would just be something like this. Something so sweet and domestic, in my god damn home.”

“Laurie,” Andy started, “I don’t know—”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to deny it,” she scoffed. “Please tell me you’re not a complete piece of shit.”

He fell silent at that.

She turned to you. “And what about you? Are you going to be honest?”

“Laurie…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you have been told—”

“Do you know who told me?”

Fuck, if it was Lily, you would hit that bitch.

“It doesn’t matter,” Andy cut in. “This is a conversation between us. She doesn’t need to be here.”

“Your boyfriend,” she went on. “Ex-boyfriend now. He wasn’t sure but he had a suspicion, and then I called around everywhere and found out about Jacob being gone while the both of you were here…but see, I still believed nothing was happening. I still thought my husband would never do this—”

Andy stepped in front of you. “Laurie—”

“Then I went upstairs and found everything you bought her, all the sex toys, the lingerie—”

This was the worst way this could have played out. Seeing the bedroom, everything in it, must have been earth-shattering. There were handcuffs, gags, the red paddle that Andy was dying to try out. You had wondered if that would happen tonight on the drive over, if you were being bratty enough. That was what was going through your mind. The one thought you’d never had was that Laurie would have to see the room.

Andy looked back and you started urging you out of the house, despite your protests. When the door was shut, he handed you his keys. “You should go.”

“No, we should both talk to her.”

“No, you shouldn’t be here for this. I did this, I don’t want her blaming you—”

“Stop, I don’t need you to protect me—”

“Hey, we are not debating. You are not going to be here apart of this. I will call you as soon as I can.”

You shook your head as he started putting his keys in your hand. “No, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you with this. You weren’t the only one.”

He touched your face. “Go to the apartment, okay? Please. I will call you soon.”

“Andy—”

He cut you off with a rough, short kiss. You were stunned silent when he pulled away, but he knew you still wanted to argue. He knew you didn’t feel comfortable leaving the scene, and he knew what you needed to hear to have faith that he would handle this situation and go see you as soon as he could.

“I love you.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I know now is a bad time to say it, but I do. I love you. Please.”

You finally took the keys. “I love you, too.”

“Go to the apartment, okay?”

“Okay, fine.” You hurried to his car and he didn’t go inside until the car was out of his sight. Shit, this was everything that you didn’t want to happen. This was everything that you both were so careful to prevent.

You pulled over to check your phone. Laurie said that she called everyone and if she had done so while she was drunk, you weren’t confident that more people didn’t know. You weren’t expecting to see texts from your parents, but as soon as you read them, you knew you were correct.

The last message from your mother after nearly thirty between them ordering you to get home or to call, was, tell me this is not true.

You were not going to that stupid apartment, that much you knew.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks​

incredible tags:

@evansislife​ @ilovetheeagles​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

#andy barber x reader #my writing

[buckyownsmylife]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

The one where Andy seems to have lost everything, but he’s not ready to give up.

A terrible car accident ruins Andy Barber’s idea of a perfect life. But if the love’s still there, why wouldn’t he retrace the steps that led him to his happy ending? After all, the best love stories were made to be written more than just once.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist and if you’d like to be tagged on my following Chris Evans and characters stories, just fill out this form.

Andy’s P.O.V.

The never-ending beeping of the machine had become a constant in my life. It was both a melody and a curse, a relief and the worst of tortures, it truly depended on my mood for the day. Sadly, for the last few weeks, it was hard to remember that this meant a good thing, it meant she was alive, there was still hope for us. 

Hope was dying quicker than the woman on the bed, who I watched with unwavering attention, and that only meant it was getting harder and harder to remember that she was still even there. 

A body isn’t a life, that had never been as obvious to me as it was right then, and although her hand was safely wrapped by mine, she never seemed more distant than in that moment. So close, yet so out-of-reach. Still alive, but seemingly just… not there.

Sighing, I released her hand only to run both of mine over my face, needing a moment to close my eyes and imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere else other than this stupid fucking hospital, the only place I ever went to since the accident.

But then, as it happened every time I tried to sleep, flashes of what I imagined had happened to her startled me into opening my eyes again, and sitting up on the chair that was starting to mold into the shape of my body. I really needed her to wake up. Soon.

A surge of anger rushed through me - not the first one I’d felt since this entire situation had happened, and suddenly I was up from the chair, leaning over her, cradling her unresponsive face in my hands.

“Wake up,” I urged, trying to shake her as softly as possible, but still determined to get a response from her. “Wake up, dammit.” 

Unsurprisingly, it was in vain. There was no response, no single movement, no sign from the heavens that the woman I loved was even there at all.

Defeated, I slumped back on the chair and pondered over the same damn details when suddenly, something happened. The beeping had changed. It was quicker now, mirroring my own heartbeat inside my chest.

“Nurse!” I shouted, desperate for someone, anyone to tell me that this was good news, but the second two people entered the room in blue scrubs, I was being thrown out. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we need you to go wait in the lobby. Someone will come get you once things are stable again.”

Stable. Again.

That’s not what I wanted. No, it was not. Because nothing about my life with Y/N had ever been just “stable”. That word could simply not encompass everything she was, everything she meant, everything we had lived together. Not the way she woke me up with the smell of pancakes in the morning, only to be singing the softest of melodies when I got to the kitchen to watch her sway and cook at the same time. Not the way she listened attentively to everything I ever got to say, especially when I was frustrated and it took me some time to make any sense at all. Not the way she held me in her arms when the night came and brought horrors from the past to my mind, raising nightmares that seemed even worse while I was awake.

I wanted her back, and not the beeping of the machine that kept her there, but not really alive. That wasn’t alive. That was merely existing, and that’s how I felt that I was doing, too. But how does one find the motivation to even try when the love of your life is just… not there?

I was quickly becoming overwhelmed by my own feelings, I could recognize that. Finally deciding to take a seat in the waiting area, I covered my face again as I struggled to think through the fog of emotions clouding my brain. What the hell was happening back in her room? Could it be…

No. I could not afford to think that. I could not afford to lose her. Looking up to the ceiling in the hopes to control my desperate desire to cry, I prayed to whoever was listening that they gave me my girl back. I needed her. God, how I needed her.

“Mr. Barber?” I almost got whiplash from how quickly I turned to meet the doctor, trying to determine if he was coming to share bad or good news by the expression on his face. Unfortunately, the dominion of emotions came with the profession - I expected that, mostly because I used to have the same skill, developed in the exercise of mine.

The days where legal routines ruled my week seemed like a lifetime away.

“We have some news for you.” I nodded, not trusting my own voice as I got up from the chair to follow the doctor closer to the room where she rested, hopefully still alive. “At last, there was some response to the treatment we had been administering…” I ended up blocking whatever medical terms he used while explaining what had happened as I tried to peek through the curtains into the room, check if she was still there, still unresponsive but there. “...She’s waiting for you.”

That startled me, making me meet the doctor’s eyes again.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

The man had a good heart, that much was obvious, because instead of impatient, he just smiled and repeated, “She’s awake now. We still haven’t been able to figure out the damage that the impact has done on her cognitive functions, but she’s alive and awake, and when we said you had been waiting, she asked to see you.”

I nodded, immediately turning my back to the doctor without any further comments and reaching out for the door, eager to see her again. I knew I’d only believe that she was awake when I saw it with my own two eyes.

Her gaze fell on mine when I pushed the door open, my mouth falling open and tears erupting from the utter relief that I felt. It was really true. She was okay. We’d be okay.

I threw myself on her before even thinking twice about it. Instinctively, I knew how to avoid the wires and bruises she still had, after having spent so long just looking at her, memorizing every inch of her face while she couldn’t move.

When her arms closed around me, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. And then I was crying. Just like she always did the few times I’d done this before ever since we got together, she just held me, hands softly running circles on my back as I let go of all the pain and fear I’d been accumulating these last few months without her.

She didn’t even say anything, just patiently waited as I slowly calmed down, sniffling like a little kid and taking her natural perfume in now that I could bury my face in the crook of her neck. I knew that my unkept beard tickled her, but despite a few chuckles, she never complained.

I was thankful for that. Because I truly needed this. I needed to feel close to her again, in this physical sense, as long as it was the only one I could have until she was able to leave this hospital. I hoped to God that now that she’d woken up, it wouldn’t be too long before I could get her back home.

“How are you feeling, my love?” I watched her eyes momentarily widen, seemingly in surprise, when I pulled away to watch her expression, knuckles grazing softly over her cheekbones. And then she looked confused, maybe even guilty, that deep frown appearing between her eyebrows as she almost pouted at me.

“I’m okay, I swear. I wish you wouldn’t have spent this long waiting for me here.” The sentence was so puzzling it froze me on the spot. What did she mean, I shouldn’t have waited for her to wake up? I should have simply gone home and walked around like nothing was wrong, while she was here alone, possibly dying?

“Why is that?” I finally managed to get out, reaching out to hold one of her tiny, freezing hands between mine, and although she once again looked up in shock at me, she seemed somewhat grateful, the goosebumps along her arms showing just how cold she really was.

“I mean… You just didn’t have to, Andy. I know you’re a nice guy, I wouldn’t have agreed to go on that date with you if I didn’t think so, but I think this is too much, even for you. You barely know me. There was no reason to feel so obligated to keep me company, you know?” And just when I was sure that the pain in my chest signaled a heart attack, she looked down at our joined hands, squeezed mine and said, “Although I must admit, I’m kinda glad you did. I’ve been dreaming about our second date ever since you brought me back to my apartment and gave me that kiss.”

The weight of my wedding ring suddenly became all I could focus on, even if she didn’t even seem to realize the metal was there, warming her cold skin. But it was the burning of the matching jewelry safely tucked inside my pocket since the night of the accident that really made me realize that car crash might have taken more from me than I ever expected.

#andy barber angst #andy barber #angst #andy barber fanfiction #my series #andy barber requests #andy barber request #andy barber fan fiction #andy barber fic #andy barber fics #andy barber reader #andy barber reader insert

[regina-del-cielo]

Immortal Siblings AU | Four, then three, then four again

I mentioned that the bulletpoint post describing how the Guard from the Immortal Siblings AU found Joe had totally run away from me. It has, in fact, become a study on them grieving over Lykon and then finding Yusuf. 

I have, somehow, reached a sort of natural end to the amount of bullshit my mind can add to this list/fic draft. So, if you want to give it a read... grab a snack. It’s long. I’m sorry.

Warnings for Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy - I added links to the relevant pages when quoting historical events, but since I was just trying to work out a timeline (famous last words), the research wasn’t extensive. There’s a lot of hand-waving.

By the end of the 11th Century, I think Andy, Quynh and Nico haven’t been in Europe for a while, not really. They moved south, and then east, after the sack of Rome of 410 CE. Seeing the great cities fall has become hard for them, especially for Nico, who is a nomad at heart but has a soft spot for cities, together with Lykon, the true city boy in the group. He’d seen it happen to Athens, he wasn’t sure he could deal with seeing Rome wilt.

For reasons I cannot fathom, my mind is settled on them having been in India when Lykon dies (possibly sometime around the middle of the 6th century, in the mess that was the crumbling of the Gupta Empire???)

Seeing him die destroys them, and they take a break from any battlefield to grieve their friend and brother. They wander, occasionally helping but almost never raising their weapons, too leery of injuries and of losing each other.

(Quynh, who was the first to notice Lykon’s wounds, has nightmares that make her cry in her sleep. Andromache holds her so tight Nico can feel the tension on her muscles against his back. He and his sister barely sleep, scared of the open spaces of Asia as they’d never been before. Lykon was the youngest of them and he died, what if they stop healing too?)

(If Nico stands guard over his sisters and feels an ache in his chest seeing how they hold onto each other, he’s never going to say it out loud. His Mache deserves the love she shares with Quynh. But sometimes he wishes he had someone to hold him like that, one he can call his heart.)

The first time they go to battle again like in the old days it’s almost the end of the 10th century, and they’re helping Quynh’s lands gain independence from China. They have a reason and a specific side to root for, and it’s the kind of cause Lykon would have approved of. They find purpose again.

They are distantly aware of how things are holding up in the west – they know Constantinople has crowned itself capital of the Roman Empire (what is left of it anyway); they know of the new religion, Islam, and how it was brought further east with the armies conquering Persia. They met the Varangians on the Northern Plains of the Rus’, when Andy insisted on going back to their steppes for a while.

They acquire new swords, repair the old weapons, make improvements on their bows. They travel, and help, and listen. They learn new languages. They heal.

They’ve just spent the winter in Samarkand when they hear merchants newly come from Constantinople talk about the Frankish armies that took Antioch and making their way further into Palestine. 

The words ‘freeing Jerusalem from the infidels’ make Andy sigh in exasperation and twist Nico’s guts. The three of them don’t really understand the point of going to war for a god, but Jerusalem is old, and she’s been coveted by many throughout their long lives. Things like this never end well, they know it intimately.

But they’ve been away for a long time, centuries at this point. Things are very different from when the Romans had the power. They are less eager to throw themselves into the battlefield now, and there’s much they don’t know about the dynamics of Europe and the Levant. Still they’re worried, and decide that they’ll move west to see if something can be done, for the civilians at least.

At first they travel slowly, keeping an ear out for gossip spoken by the caravans coming from the west. Things radically change, however, when they dream of a new immortal (a man, with a curly black beard and shining dark eyes) dying on the walls of Jerusalem and reviving to an unprecedented slaughter – said man is, obviously, absolutely terrified and they feel it.

He’s also woken up surrounded by living enemies, with high risk of being killed or injured multiple times, and of being seen.

They are still too far away to do anything more than hope that the new guy is clever enough to keep himself alive until they can reach him, but now Nico is all for moving west at full speed to get him out.

“What the everloving FUCK is happening over there?!” is the common theme in their thoughts; nothing about this war they’re walking towards is making any sense.

Yusuf al-Kaysani is, in fact, clever enough to keep himself (and a few other civilians to boot) alive and get out of Jerusalem when it becomes clear than no matter how many Franks he kills he can do nothing to stop them alone. (It’s a fucking carnage, and he’s so tired). He walks away from the battle and tries to reach some sort of safety in the desert.

When he’d decided to stay in Jerusalem and fight instead of escaping the siege, Yusuf had considered the possibility of dying. He had not accounted for waking up from a fatal wound with no sign of having been hit in the first place.

And then there are the visions. Or dreams, he’s not sure. They don’t seem to make any sense? Who are those people?! Is his mind so addled by the war that he’s conjuring scary warrior women and a stupidly handsome man, armed to the teeth and camping in the desert?

(fantasizing about handsome men in his sleep isn’t exactly news for him, but there were never women in those. And none of his usual dreams involved weapons. Something is definitely off)

For the following days, Yusuf makes sure to stay away from human settlements while putting as much space as possible between Jerusalem and himself – the last thing he needs is to become a potential target for any invader that may cross his path.

But he’s alone, having nightmares, constantly on edge, and in a body that suddenly doesn’t feel like his own anymore, since he doesn’t even have the scars to prove that the injuries he sustained were real to begin with.

After a couple of weeks, the appearance of the strangers in his dreams starts feeling safe and comforting; they seem to operate like a little family, and God knows how much he misses his own.

(should he try to go back home? Would news of the siege reach his family before he does? Would he be able to go back to his previous life in the state he’s in? Could he keep this secret from them? Would they still love him or think him a monster?)

Despite their impressive warrior appearance, they feel... kind. And gentle. Sometimes, it feels like they’re trying to reassure him, even. Especially when he dreams from the perspective of the man.

The sensation those dreams leave on his skin is like a cape. You’re not alone, it whispers. Wait for us.

Andy, Quynh and Nico have just left Baghdad when the dreams change, and not for the better - Yusuf was passing through a village when a band of marauding Franks started harassing the locals. He moved to defend the villagers, but was overwhelmed and what’s worse, the Franks saw his wounds close too fast. Their reaction was vehement: they called him a demon, incapacitated him and then brought him back to their garrison, with every intention of ‘properly getting rid of him’.

Nico wakes up screaming and Andy has to sit on him so he doesn’t just sprint ahead without actually knowing where the fuck he’s going.

“We can’t just raid every single Frankish encampment in a twenty mile radius around Jerusalem, Nico!” “TRY ME” *Aggressive Sibling Bickering follows* *Quynh doesn’t bat an eye and just rolls out a map of the area she purchased and starts mapping out the fastest routes*

Yusuf is having a Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week at the hands of his captors, who are getting disturbingly creative in their tortures, but whenever they let him fall unconscious he sees the people of his dreams travelling much faster than before, looking Royally Pissed Off, and the surroundings are... starting to look familiar too? 

If he tries to pay more attention to the conversations his torturers are having with each other outside of the tent he’s in and hoping the dreams go both ways, so the maybe-real trio can find him easier, now that’s nobody’s business but his own.

(spoiler: it works)

When they are in sight of Jerusalem, the immortals find a drunk “pilgrim” boasting about his band capturing a ‘pagan demon’ while coming back from their victory at Ascalon, follow him back to his camp, and as soon as it’s feasible they attack.

(Andy will later gripe that Nico didn’t leave her anything to do because he just paved his way through the Franks like he was harvesting wheat.)

seeing the Stupidly Handsome Man of his dreams standing in front of him covered head to toe in blood, with a double-bladed axe in one hand and a sword in the other, staring intensely at him as if to peer directly into his soul is... an experience for Yusuf.

(he may have composed a lot of poems about that first vision of Nico through the centuries. The words ‘avenging angel’ have been used quite profusely, too)

The protective instinct that Nico has felt for the newest immortal since the first dream clutches at his throat when he finally sees him, chained to a pole and so thin his clothes barely cling to his body, but with the softest dark eyes staring back with a glint of recognition when he comes closer.

(he could cry with relief at the knowledge that he’s not scared of him. Nico has seen the faces of the men that were keeping him captive, he knows he looks a lot like they did, and that he paints a gruesome picture.)

“Are you alright?” Nico asks first, in Greek. (He knows, from the dreams, that his captors prayed in Latin. He wants to make sure that the other knows that he’s not like them.)

“You were in my dreams. You came.” Yusuf answers back in the same language, although his sounds much newer than Nico’s.

“Of course. We’re not meant to be alone… and no one deserves to be in a cage”.

Nico uses the axe to break the chains, and by the time he’s done Andy and Quynh have reached them and his sister throws the keys at him to open the shackles.

“Couldn’t take a moment to get them yourself, little eagle? You wanted to show off your skills to the new one?” Quynh teases, just to see Nico blush. Andy stares at her brother and their new companion for a few beats, before finally asking his name.

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad Al-Kaysani, known as al-Tayyib” he answers, letting out the first smile in weeks at the raising eyebrows of his saviours. “Just Yusuf is fine.”

“You have a sense of humour, brother. I like you!” Andy snorts, before cutting her palm with the edge of her axe, and showing him her fast healing.

“We are like you, Yusuf. That’s why you dreamt of us, and we of you” Nico adds gently, while Quynh offers her waterskin to Yusuf. They also offer their own names.

“We need to clean up this mess and move away from here” Andy says, while Nico helps Yusuf up. “One of those fuckers was boasting about an undying demon with others in a tavern, the last thing we need is to fight our way out against their whole army because someone else decided to come check if he was saying the truth.”

“It’s been a long time since we were in Kush” Quynh whispers, and Yusuf sees their faces open in a look of affectionate grief he remembers seeing on his Baba’s eyes when he talked about his own mother.

“We can talk about it more when we’re somewhere safer” Andromache suggests, before moving to set up the stage of an ‘accidental’ fire.

As they’re riding away, Yusuf turns slightly to watch the camp burn, leaving no trace of the invaders that hurt him. Jerusalem looms in the distance - lost, and wounded. If he were a little less exhausted, he could  easily work out a metaphor about his own situation.

But then he looks at the three people of his dreams – Quynh, Andromache, Nikolaos – that came for him. Who are the same as him, immortal.

His world has turned upside down, and there are so many questions to ask, and he could sleep for a month straight – but one thing is certain. 

He’s not alone anymore.

#the old guard #my ponderings #long post #Immortal Siblings AU #andromache the scythian #quynh #lykon #nicolò di genova #yusuf al kaysani #otp time #murder wives #andromaquynh #the First Brother #the Former Goddess and the Former Priest #THIS WAS MEANT TO BE LIGHTHEARTED INSTEAD THE SQUAD TOOK POSSESSION OF MY KEYBOARD #Lykon is here for literally three points and YET #I kept Yusuf's background SUPER VAGUE because 1) this was long enough already and 2) I have to read up some more #hope the Wikipedia levels of historical accuracy don't bother you too much I tried my best #the Kaysanova isn't there yet but the Boys like each other already #Lykon's timeline of death is still feasible of variation btw hit me up with your ideas!

[mystical-flute]

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

An Angstshipping Secret Santa gift for @sharktato-does-art-sometimes !

Also on Ao3 || FFN

A blanket of snow had fallen over Domino overnight, much to the shock of the citizens and the meteorologists anxiously tugging at their collars on the TV, awkwardly apologizing for the snow, as if they were the ones to cast a spell in the middle of the night for it to snow like it did.

As ridiculous as it sounded, Ryou had checked social media when he’d woken up, and people had, indeed, blamed the meteorologists for a natural phenomena.

He supposed it was better than he or his friends being blamed for any of the weird shit that had happened to the world over the past few years, even though the others swore up and down that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t in control of the spirit of the ring, and couldn’t help what he had done to the others, and to Ryou himself.

He flinched a little, gingerly brushing his fingers against the scar on his arm that had never fully healed after the spirit had stabbed him to get Marik into the others’ good graces so he could do… whatever it had ended up being. Ryou hadn’t asked many questions, even though he both wanted to know and desperately wanted to run away and prayed he forgot what he knew had transpired.

On the other hand, Ryou knew his friends, knew how they’d taken him in when he’d been a new transfer student, and really, earnestly wanted to be his friend, and had become his friends, and for whatever reason, they hadn’t been willing to let him go, even after everything.

He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve friends like that, that didn’t want to abandon him even though he was too weak to fight off a spirit that had been living in a necklace for three-thousand years. He didn’t understand how, and he didn’t understand why, but he also didn’t want to dwell on it, as much as the recesses of his mind begged him to.

(Sometimes Ryou wondered if those thoughts were his own, or if the spirit had somehow managed to retain some of itself even after the items had been sealed away, and the spirit supposedly killed in the battle with Zorc.)

“Dammit, Ryou, pull yourself together,” he muttered to himself, getting to his feet and switching the TV off. Given the weather outside, he doubted he needed to watch the news to realize things were going to be closed and the streets would be difficult to get through until the plows got to them.

It didn't matter though, because he would be spending the day decorating. It was his favorite part of the holiday season - decorating his apartment, and not even just for Christmas, but for every holiday. There was a need he had to make his apartment as decorated as possible.

Part of him wondered if it was a way to say fuck you to his father after being abandoned. Another part wondered if it was him overcompensating for Amanae’s loss, as she too, had loved the holidays.

As he pulled out the boxes of decorations, he couldn’t help but continue to think of his sister. He knew she would have loved Japan and the friends he’d made. He imagined she would have become particularly close with Serenity and Mokuba, the two youngest of the friendship group (even if it made Kaiba cringe that his brother was hanging out with them).

Ryou hung a row of snowflake lights across the ceiling and sighed softly. He missed Amanae so damn much, and being in Japan, so far from her resting place, was incredibly difficult on days like today.

But his friends helped him whenever he got into this sort of mindset, and it was the thought of his friends, and their eagerness to celebrate Christmas despite it not being huge in Japan like it was in England, that kept him going as he decorated.

A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts, the smooth tones of Andy Williams the only sound in the room. That was strange, he wasn’t expecting anyone - and he doubted anyone would be able to get here so easily due to the snow.

“Wha - Marik?” he gasped when he pulled the door open. Of all the people he expected to see, Marik Ishtar - his friend that lived in Egypt - was the last on his list. “What are you doing here?”

“I walked,” Marik said casually. “None of the buses or trains are working, so I walked.”

It was then Ryou noticed the only “winter clothing” Marik was wearing was a hoodie and a pair of athletic shoes. He wasn’t remotely dressed for the conditions!

“God, Marik, you must be freezing! Come inside, I’ll make some tea.”

“Hot chocolate,” Marik countered. “I’ve read that hot chocolate is more of a traditional winter drink than tea is.”

Ryou furrowed his brow in confusion and closed the door behind Marik. “Er, right, I suppose that makes sense. I’ll make hot chocolate then.”

Marik grinned and kicked off his shoes, then grimaced and peeled off his socks. “I’ve never been so cold before. It’s kind of fun, really!”

“Marik,” Ryou questioned as he switched the stove on. “Can you feel your feet? Or your arms?”

Marik flexed his toes, then patted his arms several times. “Er, kind of?”

Ryou sighed. “Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes. I’ll dry yours.”

He didn’t know if his clothes would fit Marik, so he pulled out the baggiest hoodie and pair of sweatpants he had, and a fluffy pair of socks. “You can use the bathroom to change, Marik.”

“Thanks, Ryou. I really didn’t think I’d be so cold even after coming inside,” Marik said as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

“So, what are you doing in Japan?” Ryou asked, sliding a mug of cocoa to Marik after he’d emerged, dry and warm.

“Ishizu got an invitation to the Domino Museum, for a new exhibition they’re hosting. Her colleague put it together, and I guess she’s pretty close to him, so I decided to join her and come to Japan early, and I’m glad I did, because everything looks so beautiful with the snow!”

Ryou raised a brow. “Yet, you walked all the way from your hotel to my apartment with just a hoodie and athletic shoes. Why didn’t you bring a parka and a pair of boots? You were wearing some during Battle City!”

Marik shrugged. “The athletic shoes seemed like they’d be more comfortable for a longer walk.”

Given the amount of snow outside, Ryou highly doubted the walk was comfortable in any kind of shoes. But Marik was excited, and he didn’t want to spoil his fun. “You’ll still be able to make the party, right?”

“Of course! I’ve been reading up on Christmas parties, and I think my Secret Santa gift for Yugi is going to be the best gift there!” Marik said with a wide smile.

“Yeah? What’d you get him?”

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be as fun, would it?” Marik asked, as he sipped the hot chocolate. “This is delicious.”

“Would you believe it’s powdered mix?” he laughed. “So what are you going to do this week before the party?”

Marik shrugged. “I was just going to explore Domino. I didn’t get a lot of time to do so during Battle City, especially since I was so focused on… revenge.” His face twisted into one of discomfort, before it brightened again. “Anyway, I also wanted to spend some time getting to know you, Ryou. The Bakura I met in Battle City wasn’t… fully you, I know, and we didn’t spend a lot of time together in Egypt, which is why I was so surprised to get the invitation to your party.”

“Oh, well, you were so helpful to us when we got rid of the Millennium Items, so… and besides, I wanted to get to know you better too.”

Well, now it was out. He tried to hide his flushed cheeks behind his mug, to no avail, and settled for clearing his throat. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need some help decorating. And I still need to get my giftee a gift, if you want to help me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Marik, as it turned out, was equally eager about decorating as Ryou was, and it made his heart flutter a little.

With cheerful carols in the background, the two discussed their dark pasts, with fathers obsessed with obtaining power or keeping order, of the trials both had been far too young to endure with those awful Millennium Items.

“Frankly, I’m glad they’re gone and can’t hurt anyone else,” Ryou shivered. “They cost too many people too much.”

“You’re absolutely right. Hopefully the sands have buried them so far, not even Seto Kaiba’s technology could find them.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

After placing the last of the decorations on a table, they stepped back to look at the decorations. Twinkling snowflake lights were draped across the ceiling, garland carefully wrapped around the windows. Ryou’s Christmas tree was proudly displayed in front of the main window.

“Is this what decorations always look like?” Marik asked.

Ryou shrugged. “In my experience, yeah.”

“It’s magical,” Marik said. “The good kind of magic.”

“You should see it when it’s lit up at night,” Ryou said before he glanced outside. “Looks like the streets are getting better. There’s a store not too far from here that I know will have something for my giftee. Do you want to head there now?”

“Sounds good, but are you sure you can trust me to dress myself for the weather?” Marik teased.

Ryou rolled his eyes. “Your athletic shoes should be dry, but I’m giving you one of my coats. Maybe you should buy yourself one while we’re out.”

Marik grinned. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

Walking through Domino felt post-apocalyptic as shopkeepers shoveled snow off the pathways in front of their stores and salted the ice to make it safer to walk. It was weird to see the stores and streets slowly come to life when they should be busy with people and vehicles.

“Hey Ryou, what are those kids doing?” Marik asked, pointing at the park, crowded with people sledding and having snowball fights. But what appeared to have gotten Marik’s attention was -

“They’re building a snowman, Marik,” Ryou replied with a smile. “Do you want me to show you how?”

Marik nodded eagerly, and they dropped into the snow, slowly rolling the small ball into a larger and larger pile, then doing two more, and the snowman took shape.

“What now? He hardly resembles a man,” Marik said with a frown.

Ryou laughed. “We need to find some sticks for arms and rocks for eyes and a smile.”

It was difficult to do, but they managed to find a small collection of rocks that met Marik’s surprisingly picky opinions.

“There. What do you think?” Ryou asked.

“I think it looks great! Let’s have a snowball fight next!”

They didn’t make it to the shop until the winter sun began to set on the city, and by the time they’d returned to his apartment, it was already growing dark.

“Wait,” Ryou said when Marik reached for the light switch. “Let me show you something.”

With practiced ease, Ryou moved through the apartment, switching the decorations on. When he turned to look at Marik, he was standing in the middle of the room, the only movement in his eyes, which were wide as they gazed at the lights in the room.

“It’s… beautiful,” he whispered. “Truly beautiful.”

Ryou smiled. “Look outside, the lights in the snow.”

A gentle snowfall had begun, the flakes twinkling like stars as they fell to the ground.

Marik was rendered speechless for a few moments, just watching the snow and the lights before he regained his composure. “I… suppose I should get back to the hotel. Ishizu and Odion will be back from the museum by now.”

“You should… unless you want to spend the night here?”

Marik smiled. “Yeah… I’d like that a lot, Ryou.”

As they stood in front of the window, watching the light snow begin to cover the roads, their fingers laced together, a quiet, mutual admittance of what had been building all day.

#yugioh #angstshipping #ryou bakura #marik ishtar #post canon

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

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[bestillmyslashyheart]

Hi< so I've just watcher the old guard like three times and consumed all the stories like five times and I'm obsessed. I love your stories and I wanted to share and fic idea I have that want to share with you and anyone else who loves this movie. So I had an angsty thought of what if rather than Andy and Quynh that were captured it was Joe and Nicky. Thus one of them were placed in an iron maiden under the sea. And post-movie the one who was trapped goes after the one who got away?

Nile shot up in bed gasping for air. A moment later the lights in the room turned on, the others having woken up. “Sorry,” she panted. There was no reason for her to be out of breath, no reason for her to pant and gasp like she needed every lungful she could get, and yet. 

Once it was apparent that there was no danger, the man known as Booker flopped back onto his bed with a grunt. “Get some sleep,” he told her. Nile nodded at him in reply even though he wasn’t looking at her. She knew she wasn’t going back to sleep, not after that nightmare, but some part of her was hardwired to be polite to a man who had welcomed her into his home and given her a place to sleep.

“Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone.”

There was a world weary sigh from the far bed. “What was it?” Nile looked over to see Andy sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing at her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Nile tried to brush off. “Just a bad dream.” Booker stilled in the bed next to her, his fruitless shuffles to get comfortable ceasing at her words. Nile looked at him then back at Andy to find the older woman eyeing her carefully. “It’s nothing,” she said again. 

Andy looked like she was going to let it drop then at the last minute shook her head. “Tell us,” she urged. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“I don’t remember that in my job description,” Booker scoffed. Andy reached out and smacked him before nodding at Nile in encouragement.

Nile cleared her throat. “There was a man-”

“Oh that kind of dream, huh?” This time when Andy reached out to smack Booker, Nile kicked out and hit him on the other side. 

“He was drowning,” Nile continued. The others froze. “He- he was in a coffin? I think? And he was drawing and- and trying to scream. And trying to get out.” The others exchanged looks, half misery, half pained. “Did- do you know him?”

“His name is Yusuf.” Nile whirled to find a man standing in the doorway behind her, his face shrouded in a hood. Underneath, his eyes were old and weary and a little bit broken. “And you must be Nile.”

Nile didn’t know what to say. There was a rustle of fabric as Andy threw her blankets off and rounded the beds, her arms outstretched to greet the man. “Hey,” she said quietly, far softer than Nile had ever heard her speak. “You made it.” The man let her hug him but only offered a half-hearted embrace in return. 

“You said it was important.” The man’s voice was accented, like he wasn’t used to speaking in English.

“It is,” Andy told him. She stepped back and waved at Nile. “We’ve got a new one.”

“I see that,” the man nodded at her in greeting but offered nothing else.

“Nile, this is Nicky,” Andy introduced. “He’s like us, too.”

Booker got out of bed, apparently resigned to not getting any more sleep tonight, and strode past the man with barely a nod in greeting. “Nicky,” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Sebastien,” Nicky replied. Nile furrowed her brow. Sebastien?

Andy sighed. “Coffee?” Nicky nodded in acquiescence and when Andy turned to her, Nile did too. She left for the kitchen with a gentle squeeze of Nicky’s shoulder.

She and Nicky stared at each other for an awkward moment before there was another rustle of fabric as Quynh got out of bed. Nile looked over her shoulder only to turn around again immediately when she saw that Quynh had to pull on some clothes. Nile watched as Nicky softened under Quynh’s approach, his shoulders sloping slightly and his eyes lightening.

Quynh didn’t say anything in greeting, just wrapped both of her arms around his neck and let him hug her tightly in return. When they didn’t pull away, Nile took it as her cue to leave and shimmied her way out of the room without disturbing them. 

“So,” Nile said slowly when she entered the kitchen. “There’s more of us?” When she’d met Andy, the other woman had only mentioned Quynh and Booker.

Andy set several mugs full of coffee on the table and sat down with a heavy sigh. “Yes.”

Nile sat down and pulled one of the mugs close. “You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“It’s for your own good,” Booker added. He was hunched over his own mug. “Too much information at once makes your brain hurt. Trust me.”

Nile did, oddly enough, but that didn’t mean she liked being lied to. “How many more are there?”

“None,” Andy replied. “Just Nicky and Yusuf.”

“So Yusuf is…”

“Trapped somewhere on the bottom of the ocean,” Booker told her. He took a long sip. “The dreams won’t go away,” he warned. “Not until we meet him in person.”

Something lodged in Nile’s chest. Earlier, Booker had said he died in 1812 so if he had been having the dreams since then… “How long has he been down there?”

Booker and Andy exchanged a look. “About five hundred years,” Andy admitted. Nile felt like she wanted to throw up. “There’s a downside to not dying,” she said sardonically. “But we weren’t going to spring that on you right away.”

“What happened to him?”

Andy looked past her to where the bedroom was. “Nicky and Yusuf were together in a time and place where people didn’t like two men being together, especially if one of them was brown.” She swallowed thickly. “They tried to kill them. A couple of- well, more than a couple of times. It took me and Quynh weeks to get to them but by the time we did they had decided more drastic measures were necessary. They locked Yusuf in an iron coffin and took him out to sea. Dumped him overboard somewhere.” She shook her head. “We don’t know where. Nicky’s been looking ever since but so far-” she shrugged. “No one on the ship could say for sure where he’d been dumped overboard and with ocean currents and the technology available until recently...it hasn’t been an easy search.”

“But he’s still looking? Even after all this time?”

“He won’t stop,” Booker told her. There was something in his expression that Nile couldn’t figure out but she wasn’t sure it was altogether pleasant. “I’ve only met him a handful of times, when Andy or Quynh can drag him away from his search to help us out on a mission. As soon as it’s over, he goes right back to it.”

“Perhaps I simply do not like your company,” Nicky remarked calmly as he and Quynh joined them. They sat down in the empty chairs between Andy and Nile, Nicky between the two older women.

Booker’s lips twisted and he opened his mouth to say something but Quynh shot him a look that had his jaw snapping shut a moment later. 

“So,” Nicky asked,” what exactly is the problem?”

Nile listened carefully as Andy outlined the situation, even though they’d already been through it once before. As she spoke, Nile tried to get a read on Nicky but the man shot her a stony look that had her reconsider. 

When Andy was done and Nicky had asked his questions and the conversation disappeared, Nile desperately needed air and some space. It had been a very long two days and she was dealing with it as best she could but finding out that immortality could mean dying over and over again for hundreds of years had hit something deep inside her and everything was starting to get to be too much.

She pushed her chair back and took her mug to the sink before looking around the room, trying to get her bearings. She knew the area they were in was connected to the church but there were several doors leading outward and she wasn’t sure which was the correct one.

“What are you looking for?” Quynh asked kindly.

“How do I get to the church?” Nicky scoffed derisively. Nile frowned. “What?”

He rose from his seat, shaking his head. “The church is that way,” he pointed at a door on the opposite side of the room. “But your god cannot help you. He is not there. And if he is, he does not care.”

“Nicky,” Andy said softly. 

Nicky shook his head and went for the bedroom. “Wake me up when it is time to kill people.” The door closed softly behind him.

“What’s his problem?” Nile stared after him.

“He lost Yusuf,” Quynh said, like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Nile didn’t think she was going to get a different answer so she crossed the room and entered the church through the door Nicky had indicated. 

It was a world away from the room she had just left. The tension seeped out of her just as she left it behind. She wasn’t Catholic, had never appreciated the setting of a cathedral for her prayers, but she couldn’t deny that the place felt holy, no matter that it had been abandoned. Nile sat in one of the pews and took deep breaths, letting her mind calm. When she felt settled for the first time in days, she pulled out her phone and stared at the contact for her mom. 

“That’s a bad idea,” Andy warned. Nile jumped, not having heard her approach. Andy nudged her shoulder and Nile scooted over to allow her room to sit. 

“I have family,” Nile defended.

“So did Booker,” Andy replied. “He stayed in touch until they all died and-” she shook her head. “It’s a bad idea.”

Nile sniffed and shook her head. She had so many questions, so many things she wanted to say, that she didn’t know where to start. 

“Why doesn’t Nicky believe in God?” She asked. Nile blinked, surprised with herself. She hadn’t realized that was weighing on her mind.

Andy braced her arms on the back of the pew in front of them and dropped her head. “He used to. He fought in the Crusades,” she revealed. “Believed in God enough to fight a war in his name.”

“What changed?” She asked. Will it change like that for me?, she wanted to ask

“Nicky and Yusuf met in the Crusades. They found out they were immortal by killing each other and then waking up to do it again and again. Eventually, they fell in love and after that they were inseparable. For most of us, it took a long time to find each other but Nicky and Yusuf had each other from the very beginning. Nicky used to call it fate or, or destiny.” She smiled sadly. “Then Yusuf was taken from him and Nicky stopped believing in all of that.” Andy sighed and sat back, her shoulders brushing Nile’s. “He used to be different. Used to believe in the goodness of the world.” The man Nile had met did not seem like a man who believed in anything. He didn’t much seem like he even believed in living. “Quynh and I helped him look for about 50 years before we gave up. There was just no way to find him. But Nicky can’t stop.”

“Can you find him now? With today’s technology?”

“We wouldn’t even know where to start looking,” Andy confessed. “Nicky’s looked everywhere we thought even halfway plausible and then he went looking farther out. It’s been five hundred years, Nile.”

“But he’s down there,” Nile protested. “He’s drowning, over and over and over again.”

“I know,” Andy told her. “Booker still dreams about him so we know he’s still there, but there’s nothing we can do. Nicky’s tried everything already.”

An explosion cut Nile off before she could say anything. In an instant, she and Andy were on their feet and running back to the living quarters. There was smoke in the air and a small fire burning in the corner but nothing moved.

“Quynh!” Andy called. “Booker! Nicky!” There was no answer. “Nile check the back rooms.” Andy went for the living room and Nile headed for the bedroom. There was no one there. The kitchen was empty too.

“Book!” She heard Andy yell. Nile rushed back out to see Andy leaning over a bloody form on the couch. 

“There’s no one else here,” Nile told her as she came up next to her. She took one look at the body before them and almost threw up. It was Booker, or it had been. His chest was shredded, his guts, or what remained of them, were hanging out, and half of his head was missing. 

“Come on, come on, come on!” Andy chanted. She was staring at Booker’s body earnestly, like she could will him back to life. Nile wasn’t so sure he could come back, not with his head-

Booker coughed and then groaned. His one remaining eye fluttered open, trying to focus on Andy. “What-” he coughed. One shaky hand came up his head and pressed at where his left ear should be only to keep going until it hit his brain. 

Nile turned and threw up on the floor. 

“Quynh and Nicky are gone,” Andy told him, apparently unconcerned with the carnage. “And we’re going to get them back.”

---

The day had not turned out like Nile had intended. It was getting to be a recurring theme in her life, one she didn’t expect to go away any time soon.

Booker had betrayed them. Well, technically she supposed Booker had betrayed all the others since he hadn’t known about her when he set them up, but it was all the same. The four of them were locked in a lab being treated as lab rats and Nile was the only one who could get them out.

So she did.

She was really getting the hang of this whole getting shot thing. It hardly slowed her down at this point.

When she burst into the lab, the four of them had been locked in an argument that stopped the second they saw her.

“Nile?!” Three voices rang out. Nicky just looked at her with grudging approval. 

Nile didn’t waste time on pleasantries. She took the keys to their cuffs off the body of a guard on the floor and unlocked Andy’s restraints. Nile let her unlock the others while she guarded the door, fully prepared to shoot whoever came through it next.

A loud crash erupted behind her and Nile spun, finger on the trigger only to find Nicky on top of Booker, bashing his face in. It took both Andy and Quynh to pull him off.

“Hey!” Quynh got in Nicky’s face. “Not the time Nicolo. We need to get out of here.” Nicky didn’t appear to hear her, his eyes fixed over her tiny frame at where Andy was helping Booker to his feet. If looks could kill…

“We’re leaving,” Andy ordered. “All of us,” she added with a sharp look at Nicky.

“We do not need all of us to get out of here,” Nicky countered. Both Andy and Quynh glared him into submission, though, and soon enough the five of them were shooting their way out of the lab. 

When they were free, when they had escaped the building and gotten somewhere safe enough to take a moment and breathe, Nicky pulled a sword of nowhere and cut Booker’s head off. 

Andy and Quynh shouted at him but he ignored them. Nile thought she might throw up again as she watched Quynh take Booker’s head and hold it in place against his neck until his body stitched itself back together. 

Nicky stood over him, sword in hand, the entire time. When Booker gasped back to life, Nicky placed his knee in his chest and his sword at his throat. “Every second I was in that lab was a second that no one was looking for Yusuf,” his voice was soft, gently even. Contrasted with the threat of the sword it was chilling. “You would have had me be locked up for a very long time.” The sword dug into Booker’s neck.

“Nicky,” Andy warned, but she didn’t move for a weapon of her own so Nicky ignored her.

“You would have him be left down there forever with no one to look for him.” The sword dug deeper into his neck and he started spitting up blood. Nicky’s eyes were cold. “Never again.”

Booker nodded, the motion tearing his throat against the blade even more. Nicky didn’t move until Booker stopped breathing. When he was very definitely dead, Nicky wiped his sword on Booker’s clothes to clean it and stood up.

“Do not call me again.” Nicky walked past Andy and Quynh without another word, got into the car and drove away. He had effectively stranded them but neither Andy nor Quynh looked too upset about that. Instead, they focused their attentions on Booker as he came back to life.

“Now,” Quynh crouched down next to him. “What are we going to do about you?”

---

Nile watched Andy and Quynh examine Copley’s research, both seemingly overwhelmed by the evidence that they had actually achieved some good with their long lives. 

“Well?” Copley asked after they’d looked their fill. 

“Well what?” Andy asked.

Copley struggled to speak. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Andy and Quynh exchanged a look. “We want you to help us,” Quynh answered for them. “Cover our tracks so we can keep doing our jobs.”

Copley smiled, relieved. “I can do that.”

“And one more thing,” Nile added. Quynh and Andy looked at her strangely but Nile focused on Copley. “We need you to find someone for us.”

---

Nicky had been less than ten miles off.

He’d almost hung up the phone when Nile called but she’d shouted Yusuf’s name fast enough that he paused long enough to hear her out. Nile quickly explained that Copley had found something on the ocean floor that had a strong possibility of being Yusuf’s iron coffin and when she’d told Nicky the location, he was already practically on top of him.

Quynh got them out there in time to see Nicky in scuba gear slip under the water with tools in hand. The boat he was on was small and didn’t have any equipment that could haul an iron coffin up from the bottom but he was clearly not going to wait long enough for them to get one. 

Nile stood on the boat next to Andy and Quynh and stared down at the water. They couldn’t see very far beneath the surface but none of them wanted to move. Nile was fairly certain the two women were only barely holding themselves back from going after Nicky. They’d given up on Yusuf, on any hope of finding him, and the guilt was clear on their faces. But so was the hope.

The captain of the boat Nicky was on told them he only had enough oxygen for an hour’s dive. It was almost two before they saw movement. Nile got a glimpse of a shadowy form that looked vaguely human before Quynh and Andy were both jumping overboard. Nile watched as they slipped beneath the surface, their shoes kicked off and Andy’s overshirt floating to the surface. The men and women on the two boats all rushed to the sides, some shouting, others preparing to go in after the two women. Nile tried to call them off but they ignored her.

A moment later, four heads broke the surface, two of them gasping for air. Quynh had Nicky’s limp form tucked under her arm as she swam towards the boat. Someone tossed a life preserving ring out to her. She put it around Nicky and let them haul him aboard. The next one tossed down she held for the man clutched in Andy’s arms. They were both gentle as they put it around him, treading water as they watched him be pulled up. 

Nicky awoke with a gasp and Nile turned from the women in the ocean to check on him. He brushed aside her hand and scrambled across the deck to the other man. He had long hair and a beard and his clothes looked like something out of a Renaissance Faire. Nile looked on as Nicky clutched at him, his hands cupping his face. “Destati, destati,” he murmured. Nile didn’t recognize the word but assumed it was Italian. 

The man didn’t move and he didn’t breathe. 

Andy and Quynh were both hauled up and they fell to their knees, out of breath, next to Nile. 

The man was still.

Nicky had started crying, his cries of ‘destati’ continued mixed with something that sounded like Arabic. He hunched over the man, their foreheads pressed together, the words a never ending stream from his lips.

Quynh grabbed Andy’s hand and held it tight. The two women were both shedding silent tears as they looked on. Nile shook her head, unable to believe the universe could be so cruel as to finally let Yusuf die only when Nicky had found him.

The deck was silent as the assembled crew quietly gave Nicky his peace and privacy. Nile was about to turn and go herself when there was a loud cough and a quiet, “Nicolo.”

#the old guard #tog fic #joe x nicky #nile freeman #outsider pov #my fic #Anonymous