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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

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Santa and his Elf

Winter Whumperland: Day 11. Elf

Fandom: The Killing, Stephen Holder, f!reader

Summary: Holder signs the two of you up to play Santa and his elf at the local Christmas Village only to show up late. While initially furious with him, things soon take an unexpected turn....

Word Count: 1655

TW: Fluff, Holder is an idiot but we love him, Almost Love Confession

Glancing at your watch for the third time in the last five minutes, you let out an aggravated sigh. Holder was supposed to be here at 4:00 to get ready with you, but it was now 4:48 and there was still no sign of him. The doors opened at 5:00 and if he wasn’t here, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. These kids were here to see Santa, not his elf.

You mentally scolded yourself for agreeing to do this in the first place. From the moment Holder brought it up, you knew it was going to be a disaster. But he had made such a desperate plea for your help that you couldn’t tell him no, especially since Davie was involved. Holder had been trying his hardest to make up all the time he had missed with his nephew, and you knew how much Davie had been looking forward to his trip to the local Christmas Village. So, when Holder found out the Santa and elf assistant weren’t able to make it the night Liz was taking the kids, he offered to step in as a replacement. More accurately, he offered the two of you to step in as replacements.

Which was how you found yourself standing in the toy workshop that would soon be filled with children waiting for their turn to meet Santa while dressed in a green and red polyester dress that made up the elf costume. The dress was bad enough, but the hat and pointed shoes with bells on them that jingled with every step you took just added to your humiliation. You had sworn Holder to secrecy, but if a single person from your precinct happened to stop by, you were never going to live this down. And yet, it might all be for naught if Holder didn’t show up soon!

Just as you were about to pull out your phone to call him for the fifth time, you heard a loud thud from the next room followed by heavy footsteps across the hardwood floor. Then the door to Santa’s living room swung open and Holder walked out decked head-to-toe in his Santa outfit, minus the beard and belly like a bowl full of jelly.

When he saw you standing there in your costume with your hands on your hips and a deep scowl on your face, he burst out laughing. “Oh snap! The elf came off the shelf and she don’t look happy.”

“Where the hell were you? They told us to get here almost an hour ago!” you yelled at your partner.

“Damn, girl. Not even a hello ‘fore you’re tearin’ into me? Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Holder asked with a big lopsided grin stretched across his face.

“My Christmas spirit evaporated thirty minutes ago! Now wh– Wait a minute…” you looked around the room in confusion. “How did you get in here? The front door is the only way in or out and I’ve been standing here this whole time.” Examining him closer, you noticed a fine, black powder covering his red suit and your jaw dropped. “Is tha- Is that soot? Oh my god! Please tell me you didn’t come down the chimney?”

He gave you a quizzical stare as he gestured to his clothes. “Yo, how else was I gonna get in here? I’m Santa.”

You stared at him for a few seconds in utter disbelief before shaking your head. “I don’t even know where to begin with that statement. But can you please just hurry up and finish getting ready? They’re going to start letting the kids in any minute.”

Holder muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like it contained the words “Grinch” and “Scrooge” but he pulled his beard out of his coat pocket. The strings that were supposed to go over his ears had gotten tangled into the hair of the beard and Holder struggled to free them. He looked so helpless with his brow scrunched and his tongue sticking out, that you couldn’t stay angry with him.

Walking over, you gently took the beard from his hands. “Here, let me do it.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. After watching you work on the beard for a moment, he added, “An’ sorry I was late. I didn’t realize how long it was gonna take to get into the suit.”

“It’s okay. You still made it in time.” You finished detangling the beard and slipped it over his ears. “But was it really a good idea to get dressed before getting here? What if one of the kids would have seen you scrambling up onto the roof or whatever? How were you going to explain a skinny, clean-shaven Santa?”

“Oh, it wasn’t a problem. I created a lil’ distraction.”

“Let me guess, did it involve reindeer?” you deadpanned as you finished adjusting his beard and went to grab his padding from the other room.

“No,” he said sullenly, hanging his head as he followed you. “I tried but the guy over at the North Pole pettin’ zoo wouldn’t let me borrow ‘em. I mean, damn, what’s Santa without his reindeer?”

You grabbed his arm, causing both of you to come to a stop. “Holder…. You know you’re not really Santa, right?”

“I ain’t an idiot. ‘Course I know that.” You breathed a sigh of relief but it was short-lived as he added, “I’m just one of his many helpers while he gets ready for his big night.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you held in a groan. “I just can’t with you sometimes.”

Holder bumped your shoulder with his. “Ah, come on. You know you love me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew he was joking but…. He wasn’t too far off the mark. Sure, Holder could be an idiot, and, yes, he got on your nerves more often than not. Yet, lately, you couldn’t deny the way your feelings towards your partner were changing. The warm feeling in your chest when you looked at him had only grown stronger in the last few months, and if you were honest with yourself, you knew it was the ultimate reason you agreed to do this with him tonight.

Holder was unlike any man you had ever met before. Beyond the jokes and teasing, he was kind and caring, and brave. And actually a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. So, while you knew you weren’t in love with him– at least not yet –what you felt for him had grown far past a partnership or even a friendship. But you weren’t sure if he felt the same way.

While you were standing there thinking about what he had just said, Holder had found the padding and he held it out to you. “Can you…?”

His question snapped you back to the problem at hand. “Oh, yeah. Here.”

You took the padding and helped him stuff it in the front of the suit as he lifted up his jacket. Then you reached around him to velcro it around his middle, your arms encircling him as if you were giving him a hug. Your cheek pressed against his chest and you could hear the steady beat of his heart increase slightly. Glancing up at him, you saw his face staring down at you, all the mirth and playfulness gone from his expression. Instead, there was a strange intensity you had never seen in his hazel eyes and you wondered if he could feel your heart racing against his chest.

As you dropped your arms and he lowered his coat, he said, “I didn’t get the chance ta say it, but you’re smokin’ in that outfit.”

You snorted softly. “Really, Holder? An elf costume? I never would have guessed you’d be into that.”

“I ain’t. But on you… Ya think they’d let you borrow it after this?”

You felt your heart leap in your chest. Hesitantly, you asked, “Why? What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinkin’.... I’d love to see it on my floor after I take it off of you.” He stared intently at you, his eyes daring you to make the next move.

Biting your lip and gazing up at him from underneath your lashes, you cooed, “Why, Santa… what would Mrs. Claus say?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and when you didn’t retreat, he bent his head down towards yours.

You froze, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Holder was about to kiss you, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him back. However, you knew if you did, you wouldn’t want to take your hands off of him the rest of the night. And you both had a job to do.

So, just as his lips were about to reach yours, you turned your head slightly so his nose brushed against your cheek. Then, you softly said, “I don’t think I’ve had enough eggnog for that.” Reluctantly, you turned your back to him and cleared your throat. “Besides, it’s showtime.”

For a moment, neither one of you moved. But then you heard the sound of Holder’s heavy boots heading away from you as he wordlessly retreated into the other room. Hoping you didn’t ruin your chances of another kiss in the future, you walked over to the door.

As your hand rested on the door handle, you looked over your shoulder to where Holder was sitting and gave him a small smile. “But who knows? If we’re both good tonight, maybe once the kids are gone, I’ll come sit on your lap and you can give me what I really want for Christmas.”

As Holder’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, you winked at him before throwing open the doors of the toy shop to face the crowd of children waiting outside.

Taglist: @babblydrabbly, @indig0nebula, @loverhymeswith, @yespolkadotkitty, @green-socks, @heresathreebee, @lacontroller1991, @reysorigins, @marvelousmermaid, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs, @mayhem24-7forever, @lovearne, @katjnordstrom96, @reveluving

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #elf #fic #stephen holder #stephen holder x reader #stephen holder x you #detective stephen holder #the killing #joel kinnaman #fluff #christmas

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cameron-phillips · 2 months

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The Killing 4x06 Eden

#the killing #thekillingedit #sarah linden #stephen holder #linden x holder #holder x linden #original #you know there are some episodes that are so good but you can't watch in entirety because it gives you too much emotional damage #for me for the killing it's the whole show

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johnbassplayercutie · 3 months

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Man-U-Lip-U-Lator

Warnings: 18+, manipulation, fem!reader x stephen glass

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You work with Stephen, and after a few times of hearing his stories at weekly meetings, you grow suspicious of him. You stay late one day at work when it's just you and him there after everyone's left. Your plan is to interrogate him or at least figure out if he's really telling the truth. You notice he gets up to print some stuff in the printing room and decide on snooping through his things in his office. Once finding incriminating evidence that suggests he's faking everything, he comes back catching you sifting through his stuff (aka his little black book from the movie with all his "info" in it lmao).

part one ♡

— — — —

Stephen finishes up collecting his printed copies and walks back to his office. He's too preoccupied to notice that you’re missing from your own.

Stephen enters, gripping his copies tightly and stands frozen in shock at you leaning over his messy desk of papers.

"What are you doing?!" He whines loudly, noticing you holding his little planner, open to a random page.

You whip your head to the office door and almost yelp out at his sudden appearance. It's too late now to back out.

"You've been lying, haven't you?" You state matter-of-factly rather than a simple question.

"What are you talking about?" Stephen questions as he feigns ignorance to the topic, "Give me back my planner, that's important for my sources!"

"Yeah, yeah. Your sources." You rolled your eyes and finger quoted sarcastically.

"Look, if this is about if Dave ever picked up from the Hackers Organization, I already gave Chuck the correct phone number. I got it confused with another one of my sources." Stephen tried to derail the topic.

"Stephen, I know you’ve been lying. And that goes for the Hackers Organization, too." You state, crossing your arms and holding his planner close.

You know he would try to snatch it at any chance if it means saving his ass from being fired. There was no way you'd let him get the satisfaction.

"Are you mad at me?! Did I do something wrong?" Stephen questions worriedly, "I swear I just made a few mistakes with the details, but I gave Chuck all the correct information!" He babbles on with an anxious tone and demeanor.

His attitude begins to make you falter. Maybe it's all just in your head and you're jealous of his success. You almost feel bad for him, he's practically about to beg on his knees.

No, no, no, snap out of it! You were sure of it.

Stephen steps closer to you, obviously trying to get his planner back. You distance yourself from him but back up into his computer, knocking over his pencil holder on the desk, the contents spilling all over the floor.

"Y/N, watch where you're going! You could've deleted the files on my computer, they’re important!” He whines out like usual. You scramble to the floor, attempting to pick up the scattered pencils whilst placing his planner down beside you.

Stephen eyes his planner down beside you but keeps up with the manipulation tactics. He’s hoping he will dissuade you from what he knows is the truth. He kneels down, helping you pick up the pencils off the floor and returning them into the holder. Stephen stares at you intently before speaking, sure of himself that this lie will work.

"Look, if you really don't believe me, you could always come over to my apartment," You meet his eyes, confused as to how that could even be a solution. He continues on and notices you're not buying it before quickly conjuring up more lies with ease, "I have the cassette tape recordings of my sessions with the Hackers Organization. I could play it for you if you don't believe me. I even have tapes from other editorials I did."

You ponder if he could be really telling you the truth. It wouldn't really hurt to try and hear him out. You still have his planner and you could use it against him as blackmail if all proves false.

"Okay....but if you're lying about this, then I'm going to report you to Chuck. I have this to prove otherwise,"

You reach to grab the planner but notice that it's not where you placed it. You panic internally but try to act calm, then noticing Stephen is grasping the planner for his dear life. You flicker to his hands and his knuckles are white and veins strained.

His eyes meet yours and you can almost see him smirk. Almost.

Damn it.

"Look, I really don't like the way you're treating me. I feel really attacked!" Stephen states, getting suddenly defensive and angry.

"I'm not– I-I just want what's best for our readers and everyone working here." You say softly, feeling put on the spot as he scolds you.

"You're one of my editors! You're supposed to support me, but you're taking Chuck's side over mine!" He raises his voice again, visibly upset, chest rising and falling in agony.

He looks sad, tears forming in his eyes, but something is off. He quickly falters, and you can see him forming a shy smile.

"If you really don't believe me, you can come listen to the cassette tapes..." He says softly and shamefully, like someone denied him of something meaningful. He completely avoids the fact that he just took the notes, spoiling your plans of questioning him.

You have no choice but to do as he says. Your only solution from this disaster was that note planner.

"Alright, fine. Let's go before it's too late. I have more important things to do than deal with this all night." You say exasperated, urging him to grab his things and get this over and done with. The sooner you can hear or not hear these tapes, the closer you are to deciding Stephen's fate.

Stephen takes the planner and stuffs it into his leather briefcase, zipping it up. He can't risk you snatching it away from him again.

He returns to his usual chirpy self, babbling on about random facts, talking about things in his office or his apartment. It's like whatever outburst he had a few minutes ago never happened.

He glances over at you, keeping a close eye on you as he puts his arms through his suit jacket. His gaze is intense and you feel the butterflies in your stomach. The urge to look away is becoming strong but his eyes lure you in. You flush red in the face and suddenly you’re squeezing your thighs together. Only a look from him and you’re already wet.

Stephen’s eyes flicker down, noticing your tension before he looks back to your face, biting his lip knowingly.

You have to admit Stephen was always handsome. You've always kept a watchful eye on him at work, only solidifying the fact. There's no denying that you may have a crush on obsession with him. How else would you suspect he was lying when all you do is eavesdrop and watch him?

Stephen gives a small smile as he adjusts his collar, walking up to you. You feel your heart begin to race at his closeness. He leans in closer, reaching an arm around you. You can hear your heart stop for a second.

A second later, the click of the mouse awakens you from a daze. You can hear his slow breathing next to your ear as he's against you, trapping you against the desk. He whispers softly in your ear, "Just have to save my work and turn off the computer before we go." You can hear him grin before clicking the power button and moving back to face you.

You're in shock at the proximity between the two of you. Your mind is misfiring, confused as to where the shy and boyish Stephen had run off to. No, he was right in front of you...right?

"Stephen, I–" You're about to speak but no words come to mind. You sigh quietly as his hand grazes against your hip, steadying you against his desk.

He quirks a brow, urging you on to continue. He's pleased, his smile coming through as he resists doing so.

"Uh—nevermind." You falter before looking anywhere but at him. His face is so close you could kiss him.

"Okay," He pulls away and shrugs. He's smiling now, flickering his eyes away playfully before turning toward the door. "You should probably grab your coat." Stephen walks over to the chair and grabs his briefcase and coat, waiting for you by the door. His finger rests on the light switch, ready for you to exit his office first.

You're blushing and it's clearly obvious now that he's got you in his trap. You turn to him before walking out his door, "I'll be right back."

You grab your coat and purse and quickly flick off your office lights, closing the door behind you. Stephen's waiting for you by the elevator at the end of the room. As you slip into your coat, Stephen is facing the elevator before turning to you as you approach his side.

"You, first." He states as the door slides open, his gaze holding yours with intensity.

taglist: @nananooti @haydensbbg

#stephen glass x reader #stephen glass smut #stephen glass x you #stephen glass fic #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem!reader #part 1 #hayden christensen #shattered glass

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beelicious-and-fictitious · 2 years

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Joel Kinnaman Character Masterlist

Main Masterlist

This is a collection of my all of my fics written as pairings for Joel Kinnaman’s characters. All NSFW fics are marked as SMUT!

***all unfinished series/ fics are on hiatus***

Original Character Fics

Ruby Moon Sunflower Seeds (unfinished series) | Teaser One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Face Cast

Rick Flag X OC Kaia Castle. He’s a soldier, she has superpowers, and there’s something there between them. More than he knows: until one day he’s fucking around with a new job and alien tech and discovers that she had his baby... and his girls in danger.

Reader Insert Fics

Detective Stephen Holder from The Killing (tv show 2011-2014)

Royal Flush | 3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | you play strip poker with your buddy Stephen

Can’t Stay Mad At You | 3.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | your boyfriend Stephen is late because of work (again) and he tries his best to make it up to you

Just Ask | 5.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | your boyfriend Stephen thinks pussy eating is fake and you show him how wrong he is

Every Little Step (unfinished series) | [on old Masterlist]

Stephen Holder X Mom! POC! Reader. Stephen meets you, a fellow detective at Seattle Police Department and recovering alcoholic. He falls for you and your adorable daughter instantly.

Colonel Rick Flag from DCEU Suicide Squad (2019)/ The Suicide Squad (2020)

French Lace And Silk Stockings | 2k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | 1950′s AU where you try on some lingerie your husband Rick bought you

Safe Harbor | 6.5k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | Rick can’t seem to depressurize from the horrors of the latest mission but you can help with that

Silver Ghosts | Drabble Challenge: less than 1k word limit | Written for the March 2022 GFS Drabble Project

Tamagotchi | Drabble Challenge: less than 1k word limit | Written for the April 2022 GFS Drabble Project

Think You Can Handle That Much? | 1.4k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | My one and only fic request! You (can be read also as OC Kaia Castle) are freaking out about the wedding and your fiance Rick knows just how to calm you

Twelve of Thirty-One Kinktober 2021 Prompts | *word count is tagged at the beginning of every fic* 🔥SMUT🔥 | Prompts completed for Rick are as follows numerically: 5-10, 15-17, 20, 23, & 25. More info in Kinktober 2021 Masterlist (linked above)

Takeshi Kovacs (Ryker Sleeve) from Altered Carbon

Rose Venemum | 4.3k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | You ask Tak to help you with a mission and discover a new kink or two

Two of Thirty-One Kinktober 2021 Prompts | 1.5k + 2k words 🔥SMUT🔥 | Prompts completed with Takeshi Kovacs were “Day Fourteen: Temperature Play/ Bath Shower Sex” and “Day Nineteen: Impact Play”

Erik Heller from Hanna (tv show 2019-2021)

A Southward Breeze | Drabble mode: less than 1k word limit | Written for the May 2022 GFS Drabble Project

\\Return to Main Masterlist for more fics by yours truly//

#joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman character fiction #heresathreebee masterlist #rick flag x female reader #takeshi kovacs x female reader #stephen holder x female reader #erik heller x female reader #black reader insert #original character insert #bee's archive of fiction

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reveluving · 2 years

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reveluving ; masterlist navigation

next destination: reve road!

↬ A little community for those looking for a fresh start, involving you & your beloved.

a/n:

Fem!reader as I have grown accustomed to the style.

Asterisks (*) indicates smut so this masterlist is for 18+ ONLY! like, a lot. so MINORS, DNI! please, I can’t stress this enough!

m.list:

↬ joel kinnaman & char.

↬ a mother's touch (batmom series)

↬ future mrs barber (andy barber series)

↬ eyes locked hands locked (cod series)

↬ a little more love (peter hale & deucalion series)

↬ choices: stories you play (f!mc reader)

↬ miscellaneous char.

askbox:

Askbox is always open BUT due to IRL responsibilities, time of responses may vary. Still, I'd love to hear what y'all have in mind; thots, questions or just a quick hello, you name it! ᝰ.ᐟ

tags directory:

#— reveluving's masterlist 🌹 , #— reve's reverie 🌹» all the fics written by yours truly!

#— reve's asks 🌹» answering your questions/thots/drabbles!

#— reve's mutuals 🌹 » posts by my beloveds!

#— reve's ruby 🌹 (based on year) , #— reve's number one 🌹 » timeless favourites!

#queue got me feeling like a psycho 🕯 » random collection of my favourite posts!

remember:

No, I do not post my works anywhere else, except here & AO3 (reveluving). Should anyone stumble upon my work elsewhere, it has been published without my knowledge & especially consent.

Please let me know if you have ever come across such issue.

˚ · . Don't be shy, look around! Maybe come & say hello! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

#reveluving #— reve's reverie 🌹#— reveluving's masterlist 🌹#rick flag x reader #stephen holder x reader #ed baldwin x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batfam x reader #a mother's touch series #andy barber x reader #future mrs barber series #cod x reader #cod x you #choices fanfic #the deucalion x reader #peter hale x reader

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violetmuses · 1 year

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Trade It All - Holder

TITLE: “Trade It All” || A Stephen Holder Drabble

FANDOM: “The Killing” (AMC/Netflix Series)

CHARACTER: Homicide Detective Stephen Holder

MAIN PAIRING: Female Reader + Stephen Holder

MAIN STORYLINE: Holder spoils you in his own way….

Author’s Note: Hey! Feedback would be greatly appreciated and thanks so much for reading as always. - V. 💜

Main Masterlist

J Krew: @nerdysuperchick @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @lacontroller1991 @shadowkittybucky @loverhymeswith @justin-hammers @weallhaveadestiny @xoxabs88xox @katjnordstrom96 @skvatnavle @mayhem24-7forever @heresathreebee @alieninoklahoma @maddu-oliveira @tavners @thee-antler-queen @reveluving

__________

2014

“Hey, wanna know something?” Holder questions you.

“What?” You respond. It’s one of the only occasions where both of you can actually stay in bed. There’s nothing important planned, either.

“It’s raining, no work, I’m home…” He’s nearly singing off-key and wrapped both sleeved arms around your waist.

“Wanna get in trouble?” You tease, noting how he kisses your neck while standing in the mirror for a moment.

“Maybe.” He plays back, chuckling. His tone sends chills down your spine without feeling uncomfortable.

_________

No flirty “trouble.” Not this time.

For the past few hours, you’ve drifted towards sleep or watched something together. Now, Holder insisted on ordering food. Neither of you felt like cooking for once.

“Wanna do something tomorrow? I’m not on the clock again until Monday.” Holder says, facing you across the kitchen table.

“Staying here is nice.” You admit.

You’d always trust him as a person, but you’re still less likely to worry if he’s not out all day. His line of work already shook up your nerves to begin with.

“Aww, miss me, baby?” Holder smirks, ditching his fork.

“Keep eating.” You remind him. “The food will get cold.”

“I can eat. Stop.” He laughs, picking up his fork again.

You roll both eyes anyway.

****

“No, uh-uh.” Monday arrives faster than expected, but it’s Holder acting cute in an effort for you to stay home.

“I’ll see you later.” You promise, almost giggling while he clips the badge near his famous jeans.

“New outfit?” He compliments, slyly noticing colors.

“No,” You correct him, gathering your belongings and kissing his cheek before heading downstairs.

__________

“So pretty.” Holder tells you. Right now, at the foyer, he stops you again, trying for real kisses.

“Thank you, but I really need to go.” You ran your fingers along that slight bread, still tickled by his mustache.

“Call me.” Holder finally pulls away and you walk to the car, humored by his adorable moves.

Somebody loves you, and he’s never leaving.

#violetmuses #stephen holder x you #stephen holder #stephen holder x reader #joel kinnaman #the killing #fluff #drabbles #drabble #amc #netfix #netflix series #suggestive themes

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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My Favorite Song

Fandom: The Killing, Stephen Holder

Summary: When your boyfriend starts avoiding you, you try everything to figure out what went wrong.

Word Count: 1827

TW: Fluff with Slight Angst, Steamy Ending

"Ugh. Not this song again!" You reach for the skip button on your phone and try desperately to hit it with your elbow since your hands are still covered in flour from the pie you were making.

Holder chuckles as he reaches around you to skip the song. "What up? I thought you loved this one?”

"I did, until about the fiftieth time I heard it. But I was an idiot and listened to it on repeat so many times that now I am just sick of it."

Holder glances at you, face scrunched in confusion, “Really? Why’d you do that?”

“It’s not that I did it on purpose. I just loved it so much that I wanted to hear it over and over again. By the time I realized I was tired of it, I had already gotten to the point that I hated it. I do the same with food. I eat the same thing for breakfast every morning for about three months, then I won’t be able to eat it again for almost a year because I overdid it. Haven’t you ever had something like that? That you loved but just got tired of after experiencing it over and over again? Like a movie or tv show?”

“Nah…. Not that I can think of.” Holder is frowning now, his brow furrowed and he’s chewing on his lip.

“What?”

“Nothin’. Just didn’t realize you were like that.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I just go through cycles of things I like. I’ll come back around to it eventually. Just for now, I’ve had enough.” Your eyes shift to the skillet Holder had been cooking in. “Um, you might want to stir that before it burns.”

He nods and does as you suggested, but you can still see the wheels turning in his head. After a few more minutes, he pulls the skillet off the heat and sets it to the side. Then he excused himself so he could go for a smoke on the balcony.

When he came back in ten minutes later, Holder was more himself, but you can tell something was still wrong. During dinner, his laugh doesn’t quite meet his eyes and he is downing more beers than usual. When you are both finished and you start to clear the plates, Holder finally speaks up.

“I gotta go home. I got an early mornin’ tomorrow,” he mumbles, not meeting your eye.

“What? But you said you were staying over? You have clothes here so you wouldn’t have to go home to change in the morning and my place is closer to the precinct anyway.” You can’t understand what happened to make him change his mind so suddenly. Before the two of you had started dinner, all he could do was talk about all the things he was going to do to you later tonight. Now he wanted to leave? “But we haven’t even eaten the pie yet.”

“Sorry, but it’s just better if I go. We have a pretty fucked up new case and it ain’t gonna be an easy one to solve. I need ta get some sleep.”

“Um, alright…. If you think that’s best.” You place the dishes in the sink and return to where he is still sitting at the table. Stepping up next to him, you run your fingers lightly through his messy hair. “But we’re still good, right?”

“Yeah, of course, babe.” He gently kisses your wrist then stands up and grabs his things.

You walk him to the door, where he gives you a quick peck on the head before shuffling off down the hall. You stare after him, wondering what is really going on in his head.

“Hey, baby. I just wanted to call and see how your day was going. I know you said you had this really hard case you were working on, and I didn’t want to bother you. But, uh, you haven’t responded to any of my texts the last two days. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay…. That we’re okay….. So, uh, just give me a call or text when you can… please? I love you.”

“Hey, it’s me again. I know you texted me back yesterday, but I still would love to see you. I understand this case is taking a lot out of you, so I was thinking I could make you feel good, do that thing you like…. But I understand if you can’t. Maybe Saturday? They have to give you a day off sometime. And, Holder…. I love you.”

“Stephen, please. If I did something wrong, can you just tell me? You haven’t called me in over a week, barely texted. I know you’re busy, but usually, you’re blowing up my phone when you’re on stakeouts or have downtime in the office or Linden is driving. I just want to see you, even for a few minutes! I can come by the precinct. Or your apartment. Or you can come to my place. Hell, I’ll meet you in the McDonald’s parking lot halfway between the two! Just… something…. please. I still love you. I just hope….”

A small nudge at your hip startles you awake. Blinking in surprise, you look up to see your boyfriend towering over you. “Holder!” you exclaim as you unfold your aching limbs.

“Yo, what’re you doin’ here? How long you been sittin’ like that?” He asks, a slight edge of concern tinting his words at seeing you curled up on the carpet just outside his apartment door.

You glance at your watch and think. “Fou- no, five hours? I didn’t know how else to see you since you’ve been avoiding me.”

He offers you his hand and helps pull you to your feet. “So, this was the best ya could come up with?”

“Well…. Yeah.”

He chuckles softly and shakes his head as he starts to unlock his door. “And what happened to your key?”

“……” You hang your head, lip trembling as tears spring to your eyes.

As the door to the apartment swings open, he glances back at you. The second he sees your forlorn expression, his smile fades and he gathers you into his chest. “Hey, mama, don’t cry. Yo, come on. It’s okay.” He gently steers you into his apartment and shuts the door. Once inside the privacy of his place, he kneels in front of you and cups your face. “What up?”

You sniffle as you say, “I didn’t know if you would want me to use my key. I didn’t know if you would even want me at all anymore.”

“What! Why the fuck would you think that?”

“Because, you kept ignoring me all week. I came by because if you want to break up, I wanted you to do it to my face,” you mutter quietly.

“No, babe, that’s not…. No, I never… Of course, I….” He stands abruptly and starts pacing in front of you.

“Ah, I fucked this up. I’m so sorry. I just…. I thought….” He finally stops and sighs. Then he whispers, “Normally, I text you over a hundred times a day. We talk on the phone every chance we get and we’re practically livin’ together. I just…. I didn’t want ya ta get tired of me.” He hangs his head dejectedly.

But you can only stare at him, a baffled expression on your face. “What? What are you talking about? When did I ever say I was getting tired of you?”

“Last time we made dinner. You said you have a habit of overdoin’ it with things you love then you grow tired of ‘em after a while.” He is still just staring at the floor, refusing to look you in the eye. Then in a whisper, he says, “I didn’t want to be one of those things.”

Your heart breaks for him as it all begins to make sense. “No, baby! I didn’t mean you! I would never mean you!” You take his face into your hands and lift it up so he is gazing into your face. “Stephen, you make me feel alive. When we met, for the first time ever, I felt like I could breathe. Don’t you get it? You aren’t a stupid song or a food that I could just get over or get sick of. You…. you’re air. You’re water and gravity. You’re all the things that I need in my life to keep going. There is no me without you anymore and that is something that I will never get sick of.”

He hesitates, “Do… do you mean it?”

You nod, “With all of my heart.”

He stares at you for just a second before surging forward and capturing your lips with his. His kiss is frantic and almost feral as if he is trying to devour you, but you don’t mind. You kiss him back with just as much ferocity, trying to show him how much he means to you, how much you need him. Never breaking contact with your mouth, he slides one arm under your ass and lifts you up so your legs can wrap around his waist.

Quickly, he carries you back into his bedroom and lays you down on the bed. In this new position, you use your legs still wrapped around him to pull him in closer, eliciting a needy moan from his lips that sends a rush of pleasure through you.

He starts trailing kisses across your jaw and down your neck, sliding backward off the bed to his knees. You know what he plans on doing next, but you need to clarify one thing before he does.

Lifting his gaze back up to yours, you say breathlessly, “Baby, next time, just talk to me if something’s wrong. I need to know so we can work it out, okay?”

He nods, his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Fuck, I missed you so much. Your smile, your laugh, your touch, your taste.” He nibbles your collarbone as if to prove his point. “I ain’t ever gonna do that again, I promise. Damn, there’s so much I wanna tell ya. So much we missed out on this past week.”

You caress his face gently, “We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.” You drag him back up to place another kiss on his swollen lips. Then you whisper, “And I promise, even if you were a song, you would be my favorite one and I could listen to you on repeat for the rest of my life without ever getting tired of you."

He grins brightly as he presses his forehead against yours, “Well, babe, how ‘bout tonight, we try for a remix?”

He drops back to the floor where he uses your legs to pull you flush to the edge of the bed. And as he dips his head and lets out a heady groan, it is music to your ears.

#sfw repost #fic #fic request #friend request #drabble prompt #stephen holder #detective stephen holder #stephen holder x reader #stephen holder x you #the killing #joel kinnaman #angst #fluff #steamy

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justyoursicanon · 2 years

Text

Finally, we can eat in peace

Summary: When the Avengers decided to have lunch together at the compound they were able to convince one Stephen Strange to join and that bothered you a lot. it wasn't your fault you fell in love with the guy, but at least you weren't the only one feeling it.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x male!Reader

Warnings: None!

"Give me the damn spatula Kate Bishop or else everyone will starve." Yelena said as she failed to catch the swinging spatula from the archer, who only chuckles in response as they lifted their arm higher out of reach. That was until the spatula was quickly grabbed and taken away, Kate looked back and sees Peter who had used his webs to grab it. Peter smiled and walked to Yelena and handed it back, "Why thank you spider boy, at least there is someone who helps me finish my job." Kate pouts and walks back to sit on her stood on the counter dining table. "No problem Miss Belova!" Peter replies and goes back to finish his homework. Yelena turns back to her pot of mac n cheese and continues to finish it off, after stirring it more she turns to cut more cheese and grabs another knife from the knife holder. But before she cuts a slice she eyes the knife and raises an eyebrow at the familiar design. "Barnes did you put your knife in the knife holder again?" Yelena asks as she glances at the table. Bucky turns his attention from talking to Sam to face with Yelena, his expression plastered with confusion. He looks back at Sam who only raises his hands in defense. "Wasn't me this time Buck, I already lost count how many knifes you even own." With Sam off his list Bucky only shrugs as a response. Yelena rolls her eyes and proceeds to cut multiple slices of cheese.

A few moments later doors slide opens and revealed Y/n who looked fairly tired and only wanted to sleep, even if he was covered in oil and dust. "What the hell happened to you?" Bucky asks while Y/n slumps onto stool and bumps their head on the marble table. "Mission.." Was all he muttered and sighed. "Ah Y/n. I thought you were about to miss my greatly made mac n cheese, get yourself cleaned. I do not want a dirty agent on the dinner table." Y/n looked up and stared at Yelena who continued to finish the mac n cheese. Y/n then stood up and removed their belt and vest and threw them who knows where and sat on the stool again. "It is done!" Yelena exclaimed and at the same time in the distant, sparks were heard somewhere in the room. A sparking portal appeared and came in Stephen who was for once wearing normal clothing. "So the chosen one actually came." Sam smirked. "Don't make me regret this." Stephen muttered and took a seat on a stool.

His eyes roamed the room as he waited for everyone to settle down, then his eyes landed on Y/n. Who was probably asleep by now, the freshly dried scars and smudges of blood and oil concerned him but as soon as he thought to open his mouth Y/n lifts his head up and watches Kate place plates in front of everyone. Stephen felt a rush of embarrassment as he realized Y/n had caught his curious gaze on him. As for the agent, he indeed caught Stephen's gaze but was too drained to care. But out of curiosity and tiredness, He asked. "The hell were you looking at Strange?" Stephen rolls his eyes and glanced at him. "Well not you of course." Y/n groans, his smooth voice may have eased his growing headache but the dynamic that they had didn't help. "Why do I even bother.." He mutters and waits as Peter grabs a spoon full of mac n cheese on his plate.

As everyone eats, some had their minds running. Besides Y/n and Stephen being stubborn with their thoughts, Kate kept glancing at both of them. With the young archer still being new, she doesn't know much of the agent's and sorcerer's dynamic but only thinks they were a couple. So, being clueless and confused she leans near Peter and asks. "Does Y/n and Strange have couple issues?" the question caught the teenager off guard and immediately chokes on his food. Kate panics and passes his water to him which he quickly accepts, "You alright Peter?" Y/n asks while rubbing his back as Peter's cough lessens. "What the hell was that about?" Sam asks. The boy points at Kate who just shrugs. "What? I just asked if Agent Y/n and Doctor strange have couple issues!" Y/n stops rubbing Peter's back as they process the question while Stephen did a double take. "Couple issues?- Kate were not-" "Yes they have terrible, terrible issues and still do not take the offer of couple's therapy with Wilson and Barnes yet. It is sad really." Yelena responds while taking a sip of their beer. Kate nods at the 'explanation' while Stephen glares at her. Y/n rubs their forehead to soften the headache from earlier and tries to explain. "Kate, Strange and I aren't together, we just work together and that's it. No dates, no couple's therapy or whatever that is. Nothing." Even if it was the truth, it slightly hurt Y/n to let the word fall from his lips. Stephen stayed silent and thought about the agent's words and lets out a quiet sigh, "Nah that's not it, their both in love but just love hating each other for the fun of it." Sam speaks up and smirks as Stephen lowers his head while Y/n face plants on the table feeling defeated. 'This is all bullshit and my headache isn't making it better.' Y/n thought and sighed. 'Yknow what? I'll just say it to make them shut up. Besides, what's the worse that could happen'

Y/n pushes their half finished plate aside and stood up. "Fuck you guys, Yea I'm in love with that annoying magic guy with a big goddamn ego! Now if your done teasing me about it you can say sorry once i come back after a good ass nap!" Y/n says aloud, and immediately regrets it as his headache pounds him off once again. He walks out of the kitchen and to the living room and falls on the couch and takes the said nap. Everyone sat in silence as they watch Y/n disappear in the other room, Stephen felt heat trailing his cheeks to his neck and he brings a palm to his face to cover the obvious blush while Kate stares between the living room and Stephen.

"So are they together or?"

The End (So sorry this took long and I hope you enjoy it!)

#doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x male!reader #yelena belova #kate bishop #peter parker #sam wilson #bucky barnes

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 years

Text

Defender Strange - ‘greeting the sunrise’ part two

a Defender Strange x Female Reader fic [continued from]

edit courtesy of @doctorstrangeaskblog

summary: a sweet & unexpected friendship flourishes between the Sorcerer Supreme and a Sorceress in training at Kamar-Taj - and in due time, turns to something more💖 characters: Defender Strange, Sorceress Female Reader/Y/N genre: friendship, mutual pining, slow burn, first kisses rating: general audience (for now) word count: 3.5k

You set your toothbrush back in the holder and turned your eyes to the small mirror above the sink, surprised that your eyes weren’t puffy from arising at this extra early hour. Stephen had invited you to join him just outside the compound, for an exercise he referred to as ‘greeting the sunrise’. “There’s nothing quite like it,” he had promised, “Just yourself and nature’s glory all around you. It gives you a wonderful perspective and a feeling of…well, harmony with the material world. And a sense of your own, unlimited possibilities.” Certainly, that was a tempting inducement—along with his assurance that it might help you feel more confident and relaxed about facing your tests to come. But being honest with yourself, you knew you had agreed mainly to spend more time in his company.

As he’d suggested, you donned your most comfortable workout wear. A lightweight linen tank over an athletic bra, and loose cotton culottes with comfy, well broken-in canvas shoes. You’d pulled your hair into a high ponytail, smiling to imagine that Stephen might also be securing his thick mane into his usual style at this exact moment. The low, pleasant flutter of butterflies in your stomach announced itself soon after you crossed over the threshold of you room, growing stronger with each step towards your destination. Not a surprise; this had become the norm where Stephen was concerned.

The coming dawn had lightened the sky enough for you to find the little path he had described for you to follow to his special place, which offered a pristine view of the mountains on the near horizon. You found him sitting cross-legged on a bamboo mat, eyes closed in meditation. Every line of Stephen’s body beckoned to you. To your heart. His peerless profile and long neck. His broad shoulders and bare, muscular arms. The perfection of his posture—never had you known a man so straight-backed in every waking moment. Even the calm, deep cadence of his breathing held you mesmerized and unwilling to disturb the serenity he projected.

Fortunately, he must have sensed your presence because he opened his eyes and turned your way. With a small toss of his head, he beckoned to you, “Good morning, Y/N. No need to be shy—c’mon over.” You watched him unfold his long form and take to his feet, while crossing to him.

“Good morning,” you grinned, hoping you didn’t sound as lovesick as you felt. “This place is gorgeous. Yoga exercises aside, it would make perfect spot for a picnic.”

His eyes danced with good humor, though he laid his index finger against his lips a moment. “It’s one of my few secrets—only Wong, and now you, know it’s my place to make a quiet escape for a time…when I need one.”

“I’m honored, Stephen.” Your first blush of the day made you feel self-conscious, but you promised him gamely, “And your secret is safe with me.”

“You’re trying too hard, Y/N,” Stephen told you patiently, “This is meant to center you. To allow you to simply coexist with your internal energy, so that when you tap into other dimensional energies for spell work or conjuring shields and weapons, they can blend seamlessly with your own.” He gave a little huff of amusement, “This is not meant to be a workout. You understand?”

“Yes…yes, I do…” you sighed in exasperation, jutting your lower lip out enough to blow away the damp tendrils of hair that were stuck to your forehead. He had given you a full demonstration of the exercise, along with a thorough explanation, but twenty minutes in you were still failing. “Maybe I just can’t do it.” You pressed you lips tight against giving into a more emotional outburst. It wouldn’t help you get where your teacher, friend, andthe soul you admiredmost in all the world, was trying to lead you.

Stephen wore that smirk you coveted well, the one that showed the smile it could evolve into in the shallow creases of his cheek. “Yes, you can, Y/N—and I promise that you will. Sooner than you think.”

The skeptical expression you wore moved him to a new tactic. “Alright, let’s try this. Assume the position.”

You quirked your brow and smirked back, as your mind teased you with the double entendres his choice of words invoked. Strange circled behind you as you spread your arms wide and planted your feet an arm’s length apart, with your right knee bent as you leaned in that direction. Straight-backed as could be, you nearly jumped in surprise when he placed one hand on your left shoulder and the other beneath your bicep. A shiver of delight ran down your spine while you stopped a moan from escaping your throat. You had avoided any physical contact with him for so long that you wondered if he had even a clue of what his touch could do to you. “Relax.” He drew the word out as he ran both hands slowly and firmly along the length of your arm.

You felt anything but relaxed as he repeated the motion several times more, your belly grown tight with the need for a far more intimate, forbidden touch. But you must have hidden it well, as he encouraged you. “That’s right…there it is…let the tension just flow out from the tips of your fingers. Good…doing good…”

And somehow, it did. Was it the banked power of his touch? The warmth of his own energy somehow suffusing your skin? The low, rich timbre of his voice, soothing you even as you were hyper aware how close to your ear he was speaking? Once he removed his hands, you felt as though your arm was floating in place, with no effort to keep it there on your part.

“Good…very good, Y/N.” Were you fooling yourself, or did he sound proud of you? Pleased and proud beyond that of a dispassionate teacher and or even a friend. You wished it could be so, with every loping beat of your heart. He moved to your right side, following through with the same massaging of your right arm, and urged you to turn your focus inward.

You closed your eyes, to concentrate as Stephen instructed. Drew several deep, cleansing breaths, trying to rise above the distractions around you—the most obvious of which was the man himself. Calling upon the discipline which had been one of the earliest lessons on your journey to become a master of the mystic arts, you dismissed your surroundings. The growing warmth of the rising sun upon your face. The cool, refreshing nip of the morning air, in counterpoint to the sweat of your brow. You easily let fade the early morning bird calls as they greeted the dawn and one another—but a more compelling sound was nearly impossible to dismiss. Stephen’s voice, low and patient and kind–just as it sounded in the dreams that had begun to come more frequently since you had started spending time in his company.

More beguiling still, was how close he was. Not just by touch, but by the strength of his presence. His warm breath raising the fine hairs on the back of your neck and tickling the shell of your ear. Speaking your name with an unexpected intimacy that made you weak…while making you ache with unfulfillable longing. Maybe accepting his invitation to join him in his morning stretches had been a mistake. For although your body seemed to be following his intent, that stubborn desire for him filled your core. You’d have to get away from him soon or betray your improper secret.

Perhaps he felt that imperceptible change, perhaps he already knew you well enough to read your body’s cues. He left no space between you, the solid wall of his chest against your back. Surely, he could feel you tremble, even before husking against your ear, “You’ve got this, my dear…just like I knew you would…” Stephen trailed off, though he didn’t budge. The growing tension in his body seemed to signal a struggle. He drew a long, sharp breath, and without meaning to, you echoed him, waiting, wondering what was to come next. Daring to hope that he strained exactly as you did—to not expose a forbidden truth.

And then he broke. In your imaginings it had almost always been so, for what woman doesn’t fantasize that the man she secretly wants, wants her just as desperately? But you had honestly expected that if this moment were ever to come, the revelation would be yours to make.

“…my dear, Y/N…my darling…” Stephen brushed his lips to the back of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, as though to fix it in his memory. He lingered for only a moment and then backed away, stunned at his own behavior--and you felt that without him to lean against, your legs might just give out.

“I’m sorry…so sorry, Y/N,” he stuttered, as you turned to face him, too shocked by the disparity between his deeds and his words to form a coherent reply. “This is wrong. The worst sort of trespass of your trust.” His voice was filled with regret and longing, proof that he was somehow caught between the two. “I swear on my soul I didn’t invite you to join me for this…this purpose. I value your friendship, and respect you too much as a woman and as an initiate of the Mystic Arts to give into such an…unfortunate…impulse.”

The shame on his face was unbearable, and you needed to tell him that he had done nothing wrong. That you wanted him too, with every breath you drew. In every moment in his company. You took a small step closer and extended your hand his way, your throat so thick with emotion that you had to clear it before you spoke. “Stephen, please…I…there is…” You struggled for the right words to assuage him, “…you’ve made no trespass here…I promise you. I promise you that…that nothing could be further from the truth.” Your palm throbbed with the need to cup his cheek, while your heart ached to soothe his knit brow.

He shook his head and let it hang down, the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders speaking all too eloquently of regret. You could not allow him to believe he had overstepped some boundary between you, nor berate himself for following the most natural impulse in the world. Now was the time to assert yourself—for Stephen’s sake.

If he felt you approach, he gave no sign. But you stood in his space and took his hand with no hesitation--the warmth of your skin, the rare intimacy of your touch, appearing to be enough to calm his usual tremoring. Definitely a good sign. “You’ve done nothing to beat yourself up over,” you told him quietly. Stephen gave a slow, subtle shake of his head—but he was clearly listening. Time to be your bravest, you told yourself. Be brave for the both of us. You drew a long breath to gather your wisdom, then exhaled slowly. “I think we both know there’s been something more than just friendship growing between us, Stephen.” Speaking his name already felt different; like it had been meant all along to fill your mouth with the sweetest taste of your life. “We’ve both been trying our best not to show it—but I think it was bound to show itself eventually. Like it has this morning.” You lifted his hand to your lips, flush with certainty that this was what you needed to do to sway him past the sticking point—and recalling his own small gesture those several weeks ago, brushed your lips softly across his knuckles.

He raised his eyes to yours, your mouth just hovering above his fingers, and his eyes gave answer with a mix of relief and acceptance in their sunlight-paled, blue crystal depths. The smile that dawned on his face was the confirmation, and in a heartbeat more, he had gathered you into his arms. His smile was the only sunrise that mattered now. And if you were blessed in the months and years ahead, you would witness a thousand more at least.

“Your wisdom, as usual, is…impeccable,” he hummed, then bit his plump lower lip as his gaze focused on your mouth. His embrace was solid and reassuring, allowing you to relax; you felt his banked strength in the palms and fingers of his gentle hands, showing no need to rush or overwhelm you. “It always is.” Stephen slid his right hand up from your lower back to cup your cheek, and you couldn’t help closing your eyes and nestling against his warm skin. “So very wise…but so very soft too…” he mused, almost to himself, “…an irresistible combination…from the first time we spoke…” He stroked the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone, and you drew a halting breath while your eyes fluttered open. “Why did it take us so long to get here? I’ve wanted to kiss you for…it feels like forever now…know what I mean?”

You agreed with a swift nod, not surprised at the warmth and the patience filling your chest—for you had known in the depths of your silent longing that once such an acknowledgement came from either of you, your hearts would lead the way. Stephen quirked the brow above the crooked lift of his small, satisfied smile and your last thought before he brushed his lips to yours was ‘at last!’.

That first contact was soft, his lips as tender as you’d expected, and you couldn’t help the soft purr of assent in your throat. You felt the full curve of his smile as he cupped your other cheek, while you laid both hands against his chest. The heat of his skin beneath his worn linen shirt was pure enticement, as you knew it was on your account and not from his morning stretches. Even the pace of his heart matched yours.

When he pulled away from this quiet kiss, you followed forward with parted lips and eyes still closed, unwilling to relinquish the connection. “My sweet, sweet Y/N,” was all he managed before returning for more. Nudging your ready mouth with his enough to slip his lower lip between yours, applying soft suction on your upper lip, while tilting your head back slightly. Tenderly stealing your breath and your reason.

Stephen ran the tip of his tongue along your trapped lip several times, urging open your mouth to accept its patient thrust. You moaned as you accepted it, aching for him to overcome all your senses this way. The thorough dance of his tongue upon yours held the flavor of mint toothpaste and the promise of how well he would spoil you as a lover. Your joy as he finally claimed you surpassed any of your life.

And how easily you both lost track of time as the rosy hues of dawn gave way to early morning proper! At some point you had slipped one hand onto the bare skin of his neck, raising a low, delicious growl in the back of his throat, and quite obviously quickening his pulse. Reminding you that Stephen was surely even more touched-deprived than you. His embrace was firm but cautious, for he knew the extremes of his own strength and took great care to avoid causing you even the slightest discomfort. But the solid press of his body to yours hid no secrets; as you grew ever soft and eager for his touch, so he grew hard with months of desire denied.

Eventually, Stephen pulled you along as he sought a seat on a moss-covered outcropping of rock, taking you onto his lap, leaving you breathless as he kissed from the tender skin beneath your ear onto your neck, breathing sweet praise on your flesh between kisses. You sighed his name again and again, gasping your surprise as he cupped one of your breasts. “Is this alright,” he asked, not letting go.

Dizzied by how good everything between you felt, you declared amidst your sighs, “Yes…yes, my darling…more right than anything in my life…oh gaaaaawd…” This was all so much more than ‘alright’. Already better than the fleeting dreams you woke breathless from and more fulfilling than the idealistic fantasies you’d indulged in. That single word echoed at the back of your mind as you lost yourself in Stephen’s tender affections. Alright? You soon realized that if he had wanted to take you in the open, for anyone to stumble upon, you had no will to deny him.

And yet…

And yet.

And yet, at least one of you must remember the need for decorum, if only owing to Stephen’s auspicious position. As heavenly as this interlude was, as much as you had both been longing to express the desire that had flowered between you, how would it be if the Sorcerer Supreme were found indulging in such an earthly, selfish pursuit—with a woman who ultimately served under his authority? You could easily imagine the scandal, calling into question his ability to be impartial and perhaps causing a loss of respect among the ranks of wizards under his command. You loved Stephen too much to allow such a disaster to fall upon him. Merely the thought of it created a chilling shadow upon the happiness that suffused your soul. You groaned as you accepted that for now, you must stop things from getting out of hand.

Stephen would have felt the change in you, even without that vocalization. The immediate, tender concern in his voice was a balm against your disappointment. “What is it, Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head when he raised his to face you squarely, watching you blink back the sting of your tears. “Honey, please…have I pushed too far, too soon?” He lowered his eyes and added ruefully, “You must forgive me. Please. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this way for anyone, and you deserve…” Stephen looked up again, his soulful eyes pleading his case. “…you deserve someone less clumsy at this…”

Smiling sadly, you laid one hand aside his cheek, and traced the fingertips of your other hand upon his furrowed brow. “My darling…Stephen…you’ve been perfect to me in every way. My dreams come true.” Like a prince among men. “But don’t you think we should be more careful? If we’re seen…well…gossip will spread like wildfire…”

“I won’t hear of it!” A darkness that must be very like that which his enemies face before he defeats them colored his noble features—and you felt a thrill prickle your skin at the thought that this time it was on your behalf. “Anyone doing so will answer for it to me!”

“That would be the worst sort of reaction, darling. You can’t be seen playing favorites in any way, positively or negatively.” Stephen’s passion was dear to your heart, and all the more reason for you to remain the reasonable one. “It would undermine your authority—and I won’t…I can’t…be responsible for that.”

His eyes and nostrils flared—so damn sexy it would be one of your favorite images to dwell on as you drifted off to sleep tonight—before he asked, “What can we do then…what’s our remedy? I won’t give you up.”

“Nor I, you,” you sighed, “We’ll just need to be discreet. Especially over the next couple weeks. Let me pass my tests without any appearance of undue influence…and then…”

“And then?” You adored how he was warming to your reasoning.

“And then…hmmmm…we’ll revisit our public boundaries and see where we go from there.”

Stephen was silent a moment, then laid his palm upon your hand on his cheek, holding it in place as he turned enough to kiss it. “And what about this? I’ll be wanting to hold you every moment you’re near. I’ll be hungering for your kiss even when we’re in the crowded courtyard or dining hall.”

The heat that arose in your cheeks came as much from how he his eyes confessed the truth of his proclamations as the promises themselves. And he smiled a bit wolfishly, seeing the color there. “You damn well better, Stephen. Because I will too.” You dared a swift, soft kiss on his lips, but he held you there, exacting a deeper, more enduring toll before he let you go.

He leaned his forehead to yours before you rose to leave. “Our tea times remain,” he reminded you, “To change them now would be suspicious, don’t you think?” Your smile was impish for both of your sakes. “As you command me, Doctor Strange, I will not fail you.” You backed a few steps away, loathe to leave him with the sun shining full on the face you adored and the form that you knew by heart, though your hands had not been allowed to explore it yet. “And I’ll count to the minute…to the very second…all the long hours between this meeting and the next.” With a reverential dip of your head, you turned to go, fighting the urge to look back, knowing you weren’t strong enough to resist begging for a hundred kisses more before you left.

No Defense for the Heart - Defender Strange series

part one - 'of secret longing and hidden grief’

part two - 'of spilled tea and more than sympathy’

part three - ‘greeting the sunrise’ pt 1

part three - ‘greeting the sunrise’ pt 2

part four - ‘I’ll always be holding you’ pt 1

part four - ‘I’ll always be holding you’ pt 2

part four - ‘I’ll always be holding you’ pt 3 (eventually)

tagging: @harlekin6 @valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn @doctorstrangeaskblog @frostandflamesfanfic @ben-locked @aeterna-auroral-avenger @paperclippedmime @ironstrange1991 @strange-dreams-are-made-of-these @clea-strange-is-the-way @fantasyfan4life @fanartka @blue-iris-messenger @strangelockd @strangesunicornsparkle @cerene-ciderr @lovecleastrange @ninetiesloki @lucimorningst4r @strangeps3lyricsmuffin @cerene-ciderr @dragonqueen89 @byondtheveil @ironducke

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lacontroller1991 · 2 years

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KWF Day 14: Stephen Holder x F!Reader

Main Master List KWF Master List

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, hickeys, language, crude language

Word Count: 422

Day 14: Love Bites / "I'll be right behind you." / Truth or Dare

----------

The shower turning on stirs Holder from a fruitful slumber as his eyes struggle to open, sleep still clouding them. Looking at the alarm, Holder groans when he sees the early hour of 5:25. Trudging out of the warm bed, he doesn’t bother to put on boxers as he stumbles toward the bathroom only to see you with a whisk, trying to blend out the bruises on your neck. “What are you doing?”

His question startles you, causing you to jump and drop the whisk onto the floor. “Baby, what are you doing up this early?”

“Could ask the same about you mamacita. It’s a quarter past 5.” His arms wrap themselves around your waist as he rests his head against your shoulder, hazel eyes shutting while slightly swaying you to an inaudible song. “You’re normally a late sleeper.”

“Well… I have a big presentation at work today and I needed time to shower and try to cover up these damn hickeys.” Your comment has Holder chuckling against your skin as he presses his lips against your shoulder. “It’s not funny, Stephen. This makes me look like a whore.”

“But you’re my whore,” Holder comments, turning you in his arms as he grins down at you while you roll your eyes.

“Real nice, Holder.” You push out of his arms and step into the shower, letting the water wash away the sweat and sex from last night.

“Whaaa, it’s true ain’t it?” He follows you into the shower, his tall frame blocking the water from hitting your body. “You’re my lady and everybody should know it!”

“One or two, Holder. Not 13. I swear, you’re like a vampire.” You lightly shove him to the side as he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes watching your frame melt underneath the warm water.

“I was gonna go for 14 and 15. One right here,” he slaps one ass cheek, “and one right here,” he slaps the other and you struggle not to moan. It’s not the fact that you’re mad at him, it’s the fact that you absolutely love being claimed by him. You absolutely love when he marks you as his and only his. Turning around, you pull his face down as your lips press against his, one hand slipping down to his chest and resting against the spot where you left a bite on his pec, right above his heart.

“You’re damn lucky I love you Stephen Holder.”

“I am the luckiest guy in the world. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

==========

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @infatuatedjanes

Joel Related Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester @loverhymeswith @xoxabs88xox @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @witchygagirl @the1redrose @ratcatcher2world @green-socks @weallhaveadestiny @yourjacketisnowdry @rachelh1992 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @knivesareout @bubblegloopswampwitch @waspswidows @burntghoost @mattymurdocksbitch @katjnordstrom96 @11thstreetvigilante @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @madkovacs @wxr-zxne @wtfobiwan @alieninoklahoma @sociiallydiisoriiented @violetmuses

#Stephen Holder x reader #Stephen Holder x you #joel kinnaman #hannah's kwf #kinktober/whumptober/flufftober #the killing

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greymoonfeelings · 1 year

Text

This account is for 18+ only. If you do not have an age in your bio you will be blocked immediately.

I do not have a masterlist but this page is only for writings so they’re not hard to find. However, to make it easier you can find my works by tag searching #heather writes or #[character] x reader

I have written for Jake Seresin, Bradley Bradshaw, Eddie Munson, Rhett Abbott, Rick Flag and Stephen Holder.

Unfortunately, most of my writings have paragraphs repeated. This is a glitch I have not been able to fix. Sorry for the inconvenience.

#blog upkeep #heather writes

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loverhymeswith · 2 years

Text

Against All Odds | Chapter One

✧ Co-written with @sociiallydiisoriiented ✧

Pairing: F!Reader x ???

Summary: It’s time to meet the seven hopeful bachelors!

Word Count: 8K

A/N: A huge thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta-reading! ❤️

Masterlist

Rick Flag

"Could you look at the camera please, Rick."

Rick Flag blinks at the producer and wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. The fluorescent lights are blinding him, and not for the first time today, he thinks he’d much rather be back on the frontline, fighting his way out of some godforsaken hellhole than whatever this is.

Absent-mindedly, he rubs his left knee. "Uh, sure."

"Perfect.” The petite woman with the clipboard and headset flashes what Rick can only assume is supposed to be a reassuring grin. There’s a bright pink lipstick stain on her impossibly white teeth. “Whenever you're ready…"

Rick clears his throat. He had a whole speech prepared, but now that he’s here, sitting in the hot seat, he can barely remember his own name. Just why exactly did he have to go first? There are six other guys waiting in the wings, and although he only got a passing glimpse of them on his way through the villa, none of them look anywhere near as tense as Rick feels.

“Um, hi. I’m Rick. I’m 41. I’m from DC… Uh, and I’m in the military.” Rick scrubs a hand over his recently shaven jaw. God, he sounds so pathetic. He hopes his old squad won't be watching this when it airs – he doesn’t think he could live with the embarrassment of them laughing over their once-fearless leader making a fool of himself in the name of love.

"I'm here because I've spent too long lettin' work get in the way of livin' my life, you know? Guess you could say I… umm…I recently had a wake up call. Realised it might be time to meet someone and settle down. But it ain't easy meetin' people when you've been out of the game as long as I have."

Rick trails off. He's probably revealed far more than he intended to, and judging by the way the producer is biting her cheek, it seems likely he's just succeeded in bumming out the whole crew. Brilliant way to start, Flag.

Realising that Rick has finished, the producer's expression softens and the lipstick-stained smile returns. “Let’s try that once more from the top.”

Rick cringes, but ultimately complies. He's not the one calling the shots, not here – not anymore. "Uh, sure."

It requires a few more takes before the producers are satisfied, but finally they release him from the chair. Rick can't quite breathe a sigh of relief, though. The hardest part might be over, but now he has to survive the rest of this damn thing.

Stephen Holder

Stephen Holder leans against the wall of the villa, arms crossed, watching on in amusement as his fellow competitor flusters over his lines. Sure, the guy – Rick – has a few extra pounds of muscle on Stephen, but he seems awkward and nervous as hell. If there’s one thing Stephen knows about women, it’s that they like a confident guy. Luckily, confidence is something that Stephen has in spades.

Although, for reasons that are unclear to him, his abundant confidence doesn't always seem to translate with the ladies. Stephen is painfully aware of his dismal track record – of his tendency to pursue the wrong women and (if you ask his friends and colleagues) his inability to spot the right woman, even if she’s right under his nose.

But that's why he's here, of course: to turn his luck around, and hopefully prove his partner wrong in the process. He can't wait to wipe the smile off Linden's face. Linden has been egging him on for months, convinced that he doesn’t stand a chance. He might have a knack for solving murders, but as far as she’s concerned, there’s no way in hell he can win this thing.

Sure, he might not be made of 200 pounds of pure muscle like some of the other guys here, but frankly that’s not important. He’s got a brain, he’s got charisma, and this show is the perfect opportunity to let the world see that Detective Stephen Holder is, in fact, the perfect catch.

Stephen stifles a smirk when, after fifteen minutes or so of a stop-and-start performance, the cameras finally stop rolling, and Rick leaps out of the chair as if he's been scolded.

Stephen pushes off the wall and saunters his way onto the set, wholly unaffected by the lights and cameras. He’s attended more than his fair share of crime scenes; at this point, he doubts anything could truly faze him.

Dropping into Rick’s vacated seat, he flashes a grin at the producer. “A’ight, mamacita. Make sure you get my good side, you feel me?”

As the crew begins to fuss over him, putting powder on his nose and fixing his hair, an easy smile spreads across his face. He knows Linden will be watching this the moment the show airs, and he wants her to know that he’s got this in the bag.

Stephen’s feeling good – no, he’s feeling great – and the cameras start to roll. Time to shine.

Takeshi Kovacs

Idiots, the lot of them. At least, that's Takeshi Kovacs' initial opinion. Who willingly signs up for this? He’s been lurking in the background, eyeing up the so-called competition, and if he had any intention of trying to win this thing, he'd like his odds. Some of the guys barely look capable of tying their own shoelaces, never mind convincing some hapless woman to fall in love with them.

If not for that annoyingly belligerent producer, Tak would never in a million years have entertained this misery. Serves him right for showing an ounce of kindness. He certainly won’t be making the same mistake twice.

When it's his turn, he folds his arms, impatient for this circus to be over.

“Ok, Takeshi, why don’t you start by telling us why you’re here?”

Ignoring the rolling cameras, he levels the host, Katherine, with a glare. “I have no idea why the fuck I’m here.”

Someone yells cut, and Katherine appears in front of him, a harried expression forming on her heavily made-up face. “We’ve been through this Tak. You can’t curse, remember? The network’s rules–”

“I’m sure your crew aren’t complete idiots. They can edit it out.”

Flustered, Katherine’s mouth opens and closes as she fishes for a suitable response, her gaze flickering towards the producers behind her. She's clearly used to everything going her way.

Tak simply shrugs. He’s made it clear he’s not here through choice. What makes them think he’s going to stick to their rules?

Ed Baldwin

"Yes, kiddo. I promise to call tomorrow. Love you, always."

Ed Baldwin shoves his phone into his pocket and straightens the collar of his shirt, catching the eye of the guy opposite him – Pete.

"My daughter. She insists on checking up on me." Ed grins, by way of explanation. "Twenty years old, and she thinks I can't look after myself."

What he doesn’t add is that no matter how often he has to leave Kelly, it never gets any easier. She might be a young woman now, but he knows he’ll never be able to shake the fear of something happening to her, something outside his control. And Ed thrives on being in control, which makes him wonder just how the hell Molly and Danielle persuaded him to sign up for this in the first place.

Pete offers him a knowing smile. "My daughter is the same. Takes after her mother."

"Divorced?" Ed realises it's a redundant question, considering Pete is also about to take part in this dating game. But even though he and Karen have been separated for years, he still hasn't quite gotten used to thinking of himself as a divorcee. If anything, he considers himself married to the job. Being an astronaut is certainly just as demanding of a role as being a husband, and that’s quite possibly where the failure of his marriage began.

Pete nods, but doesn’t elaborate, and Ed understands. This show is about looking to the future, not living in the past. He’s had quite enough of that. He’s also had enough of lying to himself and those around him, trying to convince everyone he’s perfectly fine as he is. The truth is, with Karen gone and Kelly all grown up, Ed is lonely.

He’s not entirely convinced that this show is going to be the answer, but if one thing’s for sure, life is too short not to try.

“Ed? We’re ready for you.”

At the sound of his name, Ed adjusts his cuffs and offers Pete what he hopes is a friendly smile. “See you on the other side.”

Frank Wagner

Frank Wagner is excited. He feels alive. The world seems once again to be full of possibilities, no longer confined to the question of which dishes will appear on the specials board or which DJ he's going to book for Friday night.

That’s not to say that Frank is unhappy with his lot. In fact, in many ways he’s quite content. It’s taken some time, but he finally has a successful business; and other than breaking up the occasional bar fight, he lives a relatively stress-free and, dare he say it, boring life. Something that at one point felt like it would never bein his cards. The only thing that’s missing now is someone to share this life with.

Not counting a string of one-night-stands, it's been a while since Frank found himself on the dating scene. Years, actually. And while it might seem unusual for someone of his age, between one thing and another, he's barely had a moment to think, let alone fall in love.

Which brings him here. To this quaint but sprawling villa in the south of Spain, where he stands in line with a group of similarly eligible bachelors – or so he can only presume. He’s been considering signing up to the show for a while, but this year he finally pushed his reservations aside. The timing just felt right. He’s fully aware this might not be the traditional way of doing things, especially not in Sweden, but since leaving his motherland, he's learnt to take the eccentricities of the Americans in his stride.

As he waits for his turn in front of the camera, Frank glances back at the two guys also still waiting to make their introductions. He’s always had a talent for reading emotions, and he’s been watching his fellow competitors closely. They seem to range from nervous, to relaxed, to indifferent. He’s already overheard a couple of them talking between themselves earlier, with words like ‘NASA’, and ‘military’ thrown around, and it quickly became apparent that Frank may be out of his depth. Sure, he served with the Foreign Legion for a while, but these days he's far more comfortable running his restaurant.

Before he can dwell on his shortcomings too much, he hears his name being called across the courtyard. Contestant number four is leaving the hot-seat, and Frank is up. Sucking in a breath and slicking back his hair, he allows himself a small smile. He’s not going to allow himself to be disheartened. He’s always been a wildcard.

Pete Koslow

Pete Koslow is tired. The flight was long and overcrowded. Full of screaming children. The last of his energy was spent trying to temper his annoyance; he remembers how it was when Anna was young, before everything went to shit.

Beautiful Anna. The reason why he’s here in the first place. He knows she worries about him. She doesn't want him to end up alone, not after Sofia moved on. But this dating show isn't exactly what he had in mind. Since his release, he's worked hard to build a quiet life for himself. Being the centre of attention is far from his comfort zone. But he'd move heaven and earth for his daughter.

Pushing thoughts of Anna and Sofia from his mind, Pete watches on as the scrawny kid – Frank – takes his seat before the cameras. There’s only two of them left now. The other guy – Erik – has been keeping to himself whilst he chatted with Ed. There’s a certain air of mystery about him – something that no doubt appeals to a lot of women. Still, Pete fancies his own chances, especially when it comes to the challenges.

That’s not to say that he’s particularly invested in the outcome of the show. If he’s honest, he’s mostly here just to humour Anna. He can’t really see himself forming any kind of lasting bond in this situation. Throwing people together for reasons outside of their control rarely turns out well. And there are too many similarities to his time spent on the inside. With the possible exception of the astronaut – Ed – Pete imagines most of these guys are going to grate on his nerves. He’s seen their types before. Tightly-wound, cocky, down-right hostile. Perhaps he should take a leaf out of Erik’s book and keep his head down. After all, it worked for him in Bale Hill.

Pete was fully transparent about his background. He thought for sure he’d be instantly dismissed, so he’d been surprised to get the final callback.

Admittedly, Pete is curious. He’s sure everyone here has their own reasons for signing up, but what he really wants to know is what’s in it for her. This mystery woman that they’re soon about to meet. Who is she, and why is she here?

An even smaller voice at the back of his mind is wondering, what will she make of a guy like him?

Erik Heller

As far as Erik Heller is concerned, being the last in line has its advantages. He’s had ample opportunity to study his fellow competitors. To weigh up who the serious contenders are, who might pose a threat when it comes to the challenges, and who’s most likely to steal the woman’s heart.

It’s barely a conscious act – more like second nature. The way he’ll scan a room in seconds, picking out the leaders from the followers. The strong from the weak. He’s always had an analytical mind - it’s what makes him so good at his job – and he suspects it’s going to leave him in good stead for the next seven weeks. Always understand your enemy. It’s a solid tactic, and it’s never failed him yet.

Those closest to him, however, have been quick to offer their own, unsolicited, advice. When he told Elsa he was signing up, she’d made him promise not to take it too seriously. “You should smile more, Erik. Ladies love that.”

His daughter’s advice had been far more pragmatic, but not particularly insightful. “Make sure you win,” Hanna had told him. “And don’t embarrass me. My friends will be watching.”

No pressure. But it’s not like he’s got anything to lose. Except perhaps his dignity.

When the penultimate competitor is called to the chair, he gives Erik a curt nod. If Erik was a betting man, he’d put money on Pete Koslow having served time. It’s in the way he carries himself. Standing tall and shoulders squared; his expression might be relaxed but his eyes are alert and watching, waiting for something to happen. Interesting.

The other men are all just as interesting, even if the majority of them are open books. The soldier is anxious; it’s painfully apparent that he’s found himself on an entirely different kind of battlefield. The cop and the Swede are of little concern; young and naive, and likely just happy to be here. The astronaut bears the weight of grief that even his easy-going smile cannot truly mask. It’s the investigator – Kovacs – that Erik can’t quite get a read on him. His contempt for his surroundings, and indeed all those around him, is as obvious as it is amusing – if Erik didn’t know better, he’d assume he was here against his will – but it begs the question: what is Kovacs doing here?

There’s nothing that irritates Erik more than a puzzle he cannot solve; and as he prepares for his turn in front of the cameras, he resolves to add another goal to his list. Win the challenges, woo the woman, and figure out just what exactly is Takeshi Kovacs’ deal.

***

With the introductions finally over, Katherine ushers the seven men into the living room.

"Okay, gentlemen, now that your introductions are out of the way, it's time to meet the lucky lady!”

Reader — two years from now

It's with no small amount of trepidation that you turn on the streaming network and find the show. You weren’t sure you ever would muster up the courage, but time has dulled the sting of self-consciousness and lessened the dread of seeing all of the ugliest emotional moments caught on camera. Now it’s the laughter and fun moments that shine forth the brightest in your mind and that you hope to re-live while watching the show.

Besides, while you remember every moment you experienced, there was so much you weren’t a party to: you’ve never gotten to see the guys’ audition reels; their interviews with the host, Katherine; or the private moments amongst themselves when you hadn’t been present.

You’re burning with curiosity to see which moments the editing team chose to feature, and which narrative they decided to spin based off the hours upon hours of footage they must have captured. You can’t wait to see what the rest of the world saw.

Which is part of the reason why you waited until you were alone for the weekend to binge-watch the show. For all that you know in your bones that you made the right decision, your admiration and attraction to all of the candidates at the time had certainly blurred the lines between what had simply been warm affection and what turned out to be true love. Over the course of the show, you’d found yourself drawn to each of them in turn, bouncing between them like a pinball firing from one pop bumper to the next

You know the show will air some of your more intimate moments with each of the candidates; and while several of them have remained close friends, you doubt your husband would appreciate seeing those encounters with his own eyes.

“Welcome to the twenty-third season of Love for Life!”

The show’s theatrical music booms from the speakers as you adjust your protruding belly in an attempt to get comfortable. Only three months left to go and the discomfort is only increasing as your abdomen expands on the daily – or so it feels like. As grateful as you are for the life growing inside of you, you also can’t wait to have your body all to yourself again.

“For the next forty days, seven Hopeful Bachelors will vie for the attention of the one Chosen Lady, competing in a wide range of challenges to prove their metal and devotion to her. At the end of each challenge, one bachelor will be asked to leave, until only one remains – hopefully, he will be The One … Her one Love for Life!”

And with physical challenges like you’ve never seen before on the show, this season will have been worth the wait!”

You grin, rubbing your belly as the screen shows a shot of all seven candidates walking along the beach: Erik, Stephen, Takeshi, Pete, Ed, Frank, and Rick.

“There’s daddy!” You preen as Katherine’s voice explains to the viewers how these seven candidates will vie for one woman’s affection over the next several weeks, competing in challenges that will showcase their physical prowess, capacity to adapt, and their creativity.

“And just who is the lucky Chosen Lady this season for whom these men are willing to push themselves to the very limits of their abilities?

Well, it’s time for you to meet her!”

Suddenly, your smiling face is taking up the entire screen. It’s the tape from your audition, when you explained how difficult it has been for a woman like you, driven and opinionated, but conservative and sensitive, to find a man simultaneously able to challenge you, but also willing to settle down. Thirty-two years old at the time, you’d had no shame in admitting that you were getting desperate.

“I know exactly what I want,” you say to the camera as the footage on screen cycles between other clips you’d included in your audition tape: pictures of you and your siblings growing up, of your parents together over the years, a video clip of your entire family celebrating your parents’ 50 year wedding anniversary.

“My parents met in the army. My father was an officer and my mother was a nurse. As you can imagine, the military has been an important part of my life growing up— and it still is. I respect the sacrifices these men and women have made so that we can all have the freedoms that we enjoy, even take for granted, today. Our society isn’t perfect, but I have had more opportunities available to me, both professionally and personally, than probably 99% of women throughout history.”

The footage changes now to you dancing on a large stage in an empty theater: first, ballet; then, salsa, jazz, and hip-hop. You groan, but a small laugh escapes as you watch on in embarrassment. You can’t believe you included the shots of you dancing hip-hop. You’ve improved some over the years, but it’s certainly not your claim to fame. You’d simply wanted to showcase what you considered your diverse portfolio.

“I am humbled by this fact and it’s important to me that my future husband shares this culture and this conviction that, whatever our faults, we are still a great nation worth fighting for.”

The uplifting, hopeful music the editing team chose to accompany your dance reaches a riveting crescendo as you take your final bow, and then suddenly it’s Katherine’s face on screen again, introducing the seven potential candidates.

“Who will win the challenges? And who will conquer this beautiful lady’s heart? It’s time for you to meet this season’s Hopeful Bachelor’s!”

Rick Flag. 41 years old. Navy SEAL.

The show appropriately segues to an sleekly-edited montage worthy of any military recruitment video: six soldiers standing side by side, firing guns at dummy targets to the soundtrack of instrumental hard rock. The camera oscillates between wide range and close up, and even through all the gear and the protective goggles, you immediately recognize Rick Flag. But before your gaze can linger too long on the tallest and broadest of the soldiers, the scene cuts abruptly, and the soldiers are now in a training field, working their way through an impossible-looking obstacle course. Rick stands at their side, yelling for them to move faster, harder, push through it – go go go. He stands tall, intensely focused and animated. Authoritative and in command.

The scene shifts again. The high-powered music blares through the speakers as Rick and his team walk toward the camera in slow-mo as Rick slips on a pair of aviator sunglasses. The Navy SEAL task force had become so infamous that even you had heard of them before meeting Rick. Officially known as Task Force X, the media has not-all-together affectionately nicknamed them the Suicide Squad for the deadly missions they have done over the years. They are the last resort in the fight for freedom and democracy around the world.

You sigh in admiration; and though Rick looks fantastic in his uniform and commandeering as the center of the group, it’s Harley Quinn that draws your eye. As the first woman in the history of the American military to have qualified for and served as a Navy SEAL, you can’t help but watch her, mesmerized by her presence.

Harley disappears from the screen, and it’s only Rick, now, sitting in a chair (in what you recognize as the villa’s interview room). He’s rubbing his knee slowly and distractedly, his attention flickering between the camera and off to the side of the screen – perhaps he’s distracted by a crew member, before being signalled by the host to focus.

“Um, yeah. I’ve served in the military since I enlisted at eighteen. Guess you could say it’s my purpose, my family… my home.” His gaze flickers again, and he rubs his jaw with one hand, the other still resting firmly on his knee. You can see his fingers flex and release, like he is massaging the area.

Watching him is painful. You can feel his discomfort in every drawn out pause between words and in every shift of his gaze. It’s a stark contrast to the highly competent, almost ferocious Rick Flag shown just seconds earlier. And yet, that very same contrast endears him to you. You like that he doesn’t come across as a suave, cocky bastard who imagines himself God’s gift to every fertile woman. Goodness knows he certainly could have been. There’s something about his apparent inability to construct an intelligible sentence that makes you want to wrap your arms around him.

Of course, you know how tender-hearted and sweet and gentle the real Rick Flag is. You know how this flustered version on screen is but an initial glimpse behind his tough military persona: self-effacing, respectful, and considerate. You just hope the viewers didn’t judge Rick too harshly based on this first, slightly awkward impression.

“I guess I never really believed in true love. Just saw how what we call love was contributin’ to so much misery instead of happiness: jealousy, unfaithfulness, heartbreak, indecision. Didn't seem worth the hassle, to be honest with you. But, uh...I guess maybe I was hangin’ around with the wrong crowd.

This team I’m with now – Task Force X – I’ll be honest, none of us got off on the right foot. Didn’t think we’d be able to make it work. Too many big personalities and even bigger egos. Everyone fancyin’ themselves leaders….

But, uh, you know, my point is, well …. it’s been, what, eight years now? So, obviously, we made it work…”

Rick trails off, and the silent drags on for longer than is customary on these types of programs. You’re certain the host is expecting more from him.

Finally, from off screen, she probes, “and this made you believe in love?”

“Oh!” Rick looks slightly startled, as if realizing he hadn’t finished his point. His eyes flicker off to the side again. “Yeah. Absolutely. It made me realize that I want a partnership like that for myself beyond my career. I want to make somethin’ like that work.”

It’s hardly a declaration of love worthy of a 1980s romance film – except, perhaps, for those who understand just how strong the bonds are when forged under the kinds of conditions that Rick and his team operate in: having to trust each other implicitly as they enter enemy territory and all the danger that entails; grieving together for teammates who didn’t make it home; and celebrating missions that are successful against all odds due to their own competence and teamwork.

It warms your heart and you feel the warm glow of romance right down to your toes.

Leave it to Rick to charm his way into a woman’s heart all the while looking like he just wants to flee from the room.

Stephen Holder. 35 years old. Homicide Detective.

At thirty-five years old, Stephen is a newly-minted homicide detective, two years on the job. Like Rick before him, Stephen’s montage offers a carefully edited glimpse into his life: shuffling through papers at the police precinct; walking the city streets where he pauses to talk to those down and out on their luck; and finally, frowning up at the skyscrapers towering overhead. You suspect Stephen was told to do this by the director. You imagine the idea was to have him appear serious and pensive, but instead he looks as if he’s accusing the buildings for the perpetual rain that constantly falls on his native city of Seattle.

Then, the scene changes again, and Stephen is in the interview chair. He sits in a partial slouch, hands on his knees, one leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He doesn’t look nervous, but there’s a definite restlessness about him that you feel even through the screen.

“Well, me and my partner Linden –- my work partner, you know, nothin’ else. I mean, she’s a foxy lady, but we ain’t like that. She’s just way too intense. Like it’s all work, work, work with her. She’s got this way of lookin’ at you that just—sshiiiss—” Stephen brings up his hands, pointer and middle fingers curved to mime a pair of fangs as he simulates getting bitten by a figurative Linden vampire “—sucks all the hope and happiness outta you.”

You lean back in your seat, a hand over your eyes. You can’t believe they left this in, and you can’t help but feel grateful you never saw this before meeting Holder. You know exactly how viewers must have felt watching this: half probably thought Stephen Holder was a crazy weirdo; and the other half probably were convinced he had the hots for his work “nothin’ else” partner.

On screen, one or other of these possibilities seem to flash through Stephen’s mind because he abruptly halts his rant and for a moment his leg stops twitching.

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here. Linden and me, we watch this show sometimes when we’ve clocked out and just need some fun to decompress. Linden told me no way in a million years I’d win this. But, I told her, stud muffin like me? Ain’t no way the lucky lady won’t want a piece of this.” Stephen gestures lazily up and down his body.

Another pause –- a beat of silence. “And, you know, the datin’ scene’s harsh in Seattle. All rain all day make datin’ gay. Can’t go to the beach, can’t go for a romantic stroll down the boulevard. Know what I’m sayin’? Homicide hours are rough, bro. So, I thought here the weather’s gonna be nice, the mood’s been set, the lady’s actually interested…

“Besides, what I like about this datin’ game show is that it’s not all just about the chick and what she wants, you know? The challenges, they’re hella dope. So, I figured that’d be fun, too. Whether you win or not, it’s how you play the game, am I right?”

You’re grinning from ear to ear, shaking your head in disbelief and affection by the time Stephen’s segment rolls to an end. No matter what, whether he’s hanging out on the couch or being interviewed for the most watched reality tv game show in the country, Stephen Holder will always be proudly and unapologetically himself.

Takeshi Kovacs. 40 years old. Private Investigator.

Stephen fades from view and then it’s Takeshi’s feature. His information flashes in the bottom right hand corner of the screen—Takeshi Kovacs. 40 years old. Private Investigator—but, you barely glance at the text, captivated as you are by the bulk of his figure on the screen.

Whereas Holder has always been lanky, seeming to fold in on himself whether standing or sitting, his figure swimming in those loose-fitting jeans he’s continually pulling up his hips, Takeshi is ramrod straight, his shoulders wide and his stance solid. He has the military posture you know well from your time surrounded by disciplined men — always primed and ready to jump into action.

But when he turns around to face the camera, your breath stills and a shiver of cold trickles down your spine. His expression is one of hard, unmasked disdain. The cynicism in the curl of his lips instantly speaks of his impatience with the process and of his contempt towards the show.

You had suspected from the moment you met Takeshi that he hadn’t truly wanted to be there, but you don’t recall having been so bowled over in real life by his hostility as you are now. Perhaps it had been down to the commotion of greeting all seven participants at once; or perhaps it was because, subconsciously realizing his belligerent distaste of others, you had resolved to leave him well enough alone. When you cast your mind back to the moment, you find Takeshi astonishingly absent in almost every single one of the memories from that first night.

Seeing the video clip before you now explains so much of his attitude in those early days.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you miss the first part of Takeshi’s introduction, as he reluctantly discusses the work he does, only tuning back in when the video shifts to Takeshi sitting in the interview chair.

He mirrors Stephen in the extremity of his behavior. Whereas Stephen was all action and exuberance, Takeshi is almost statuesque, completely composed and authoritative in his demeanour. You can tell that he has an iron grip of control over every single one of his movements.

“Why am I here?” Takeshi smirks, as though the answer should be apparent to the dimwitted interviewer. “To be mooned over by some vapid child? To bore myself to death participating in these challenges of so-called physical endurance?” Takeshi scoffs, the answer self-evident in their sarcastic utterance.

Although this isn’t the Takehi you come to know, you still can’t prevent the vice-like grip of hurt and resentment squeezing your heart. You curl your arms over your belly, as if to shield your unborn child from the vitriol spewing from the television set, especially when Takeshi’s smirk slides off his face and he settles his gaze on the camera.

In reality he must have been deadpanning the host sitting across from him, but it looks as though he is staring straight through the camera and into your soul with eyes as steady as they are cold.

“Honestly, I’m just here wasting my time.”

Edward Baldwin. 42 years old. Astronaut.

Your pounding heart, still shocked and raw from Takehi’s introduction, refuses to settle as the video montage of Ed begins. Sweet, patient, Ed with his understated and wry sense of humor. He deserves your undivided attention.

You hit pause on the remote control as you fight the hot tears of anger and embarrassment that rise to your eyes. You don’t know what enrages you the most: that the editing team would allow for such a callous introduction to air; that Takeshi had been chosen as a participant at all with such a horrifically insulting attitude; or that he hadn’t had the decency to drop out of the show early to give the other participants who actually wanted to be there a fair chance.

Slowly, your mind calms and so does your heart. You remind yourself that this is two years in the past. The Takeshi on the screen is not the man you befriended at the villa; and he is a far cry from the man you know today. You remind yourself of what you know of his past – his parents, Reileen, and Quell Falconer – and how that explains his dim view of humanity.

Brushing the unshed tears from the corners of your eyes, you silently forgive this past version of Takeshi and resume the show.

Ed strolls confidently through the halls of NASA, and your heart nearly bursts with pride for him. He shows the camera crew and, by extension, the audience the training simulators, the control room, and the retired rockets that used to propel astronauts to the moon. Today, he explains, American astronauts must go to Russia in order to travel to the International Space Station. The resentment and shame in his voice over the situation is all too clear to you, and you wonder if viewers can see the hurt in Ed’s eyes at how much NASA’s glory has dimmed over the decades.

Then, it’s Ed’s turn in the interview chair. He leans forward slightly, looking sharp and professional in a soft gray suit, white shirt, and polka dot tie. He’d definitely had the best sense of style out of all the candidates.

“My career has come at a great cost. A great personal cost. I won’t say that I regret my decisions. I am, and always will be, proud to have served my country in exploring space and expanding our knowledge of the universe, but…” Ed’s voice trails off as he intertwines his fingers, his expression pensive, his emotions genuine.

“Seeing Earth as so few have gotten to see it, to have seen its relative … insignificance, really, in the cosmos. To have witnessed how fragile it appears from beyond. It has made me realize that … while our planet may be small, we are not small. Our lives are not small. To be alive is the most fascinating and miraculous thing in this entire galaxy, and possibly any other as well.

“When we’re young, it’s easy to believe we have all the time in the world, to think we can have it all – the career, the family, the children…” Ed breaks off suddenly, and your throat is so tight it burns. You know where his thoughts are and it takes all the self-control you possess not to burst into tears at the pain that briefly flashes across his face.

Ed clears his throat and continues, as composed and even-voiced as before. “But the fact is we do not have all the time in the world. And there is nothing more precious than family. Not serving your country, and not travelling to the moon, or Mars, or anywhere beyond that. I lost sight of this for far too long. But thankfully I have a wonderful daughter who reminds me of what a precious gift family is. And now, it’s time for me to find the right person. And hopefully, the right person will find me, too.”

Frank Wagner. 34 years old. Business owner and chef.

Frank is intensely focused in the kitchen of his restaurant, American Klink, calling out cues to his line cooks; in unhurried motion behind the bar, serving drinks and laughing with his employees; balancing three plates of food on both arms as he navigates through the crowd on the floor to serve customers.

“I like working in all areas of the business,” Frank says in a voiceover as the video shows him alternatively washing some dishes, mopping the floor, and scrubbing down the kitchen counters. “A restaurant is a chaotic environment, and you never know the new challenges each day will bring. An appliance breaks down but the repairman can’t come around until noon the next day – well, you can’t wait that long to fix an oven. It’s a necessity of the work to be adaptable, to know many different skills, and to learn ones you don’t know. You can’t always fix every situation yourself, but you can certainly try your best, or at least come up with creative temporary solutions.”

“Being a restaurant owner, especially when you’re also the chef, means working long hours,” Frank says as now he’s being shown opening the doors in the early morning hours, the sun only just beginning to rise and giving minimal lighting to the scene. “I usually get to work around seven in the morning to get through as much of the admin work as I can before the others show up. And I often don’t leave until past midnight, one a.m, sometimes.”

The video cuts to Frank sitting in the interview chair. Like Stephen, he’s partially slouched; but unlike Stephen, Frank is fully at ease. He seems to sink into the chair like it’s been molded particularly to his body, like he’s never sat in any other chair but that one his entire life.

He looks straight into the camera, his brown eyes warm and focused as he speaks without wavering. There’s no other way to put it: you feel like he’s making love to you with his eyes through the screen, and you cross your legs as your body reacts.

“That type of lifestyle hasn’t been conducive to finding a relationship. But, I’ve recently taken on a business partner, and I’m ready to start delegating responsibilities. Family has always been important to me, but I live here and they’re all in Sweden. My mama died a couple years ago, but I wasn’t able to be with her at the time. That was very hard for me, and it made me reevaluate the priorities in my life. I wish I'd had children she could have met and who could have known her before she passed.”

“So, I guess I’m here to fight some guys and get to know a girl; hopefully she’ll like me, and hopefully I’ll win. And if not … Well, at least I’ll have had a vacation for the first time in …. years!”

It’s impossible not to laugh along with Frank at that conclusion, and with that his introduction comes to a close.

Pete Koslow. 43 years old. Private Security.

The introductions seem to fly by, and now you’re down to the last two. Though equally tall and just as muscular as Takeshi and Rick, Pete Koslow cuts a slim figure in black trousers and a black dress shirt. A couple of buttons have been left unfastened, revealing just the barest sliver of skin and the outer edges of a gold chain that glints in the sunlight when he turns to face the camera. The longer part of his hair is slicked back, and the sides are buzzed short.

Pete has by far the most grace of all of the candidates. As he walks through the streets, it feels like you’re watching him slice through water. He has a hypnotic quality to his movements that is paired with a gaze as intense and calculating as Takeshi’s. But whereas Takeshi made you feel like he’d seen all your worst demons and found you unworthy, Pete’s gaze was warmer, like he’d peered right down into your soul and saw the essence of who you were – the good, the bad, the hidden away – and accepted you for it.

Pete talks about missing out on a large part of his daughter’s childhood while in prison: how hard it had been for her, having to get to know her father by talking to him through a phone and only seeing him through a glass window; how she couldn’t understand why he’d been taken away from her – and then, how confused she’d been when he’d been released, only to be told that actually, he hadn’t done those bad things after all. It messed with a young child’s mind, the uncertainty of such a shifting truth.

Thankfully, their relationship has mended over the years, and the clips show him and a young woman with long, wavy blonde hair walking through New York together, pointing out their favorite local restaurants and shops to the camera crew.

Anna, his daughter, clings to her father’s arm, and it’s clear from the quiet smile on Pete’s face that he thinks she hung the moon.

“Anna is the one who signed me up for this show.” Pete, sitting in the interview chair, shifts slightly, adjusting his body weight, and scratches the side of his neck. With anyone else, the body language may have come across as nervousness, but with Pete, it seems calculated to put the interviewer, perhaps even the viewer, at ease.

“I didn’t even know until I got the call, and then it just felt like I had to go through with it. I didn’t want to have wasted anyone’s time, you know? And when I told her, she was so excited, jumping up and down clapping her hands. I didn’t want to take that away from her.” Pete laughs, a soft exhale, barely audible, but his smile grows at the memory.

“And I thought the challenges sounded interesting. I work private security now, but it’s not anywhere near as action-packed as the movies make it out to be. It’s long hours of mostly standing or sitting around. Constantly alert and evaluating the environment, the people in the vicinity, interpreting every gesture and anticipating any form of provocation. It’s very mental work, but not very physical work. I try to keep healthy and fit, and I work out when I can, but it’s not the same thing as really moving your body, using all of your body and your mind at the same time, like it was in the army. I do miss it.”

So, the more I thought about it, the more I thought, yeah, it could be a good thing for me.”

Off screen, the interviewer asks, “And what about love?”

Pete’s head leans back ever so slightly. “What about love?”

“This is the purpose of the show, after all. To find the right person. True love…Love for Life! How do you feel about your chances that it will be you?”

Pete doesn’t answer right away and you feel yourself leaning forward toward the TV screen in anticipation of his answer. “True love…” he whispers, as if to himself. Then, he returns to the present moment. He shrugs. “If it’s meant to be, it will happen. I’m just here to win the challenges. Whatever happens beyond that isn’t my call to make.”

Erik Heller. 42 years old. FBI Agent.

“Hello. My name is Erik Heller. I served two tours in Afghanistan and one tour in Iraq, and now I’m a federal employee.”

Katherine’s muted voice comes from off screen, “Oh, is that how FBI agents refer to themselves as? Can you tell us what it is that you do?”

Erik smiles, as if expecting the cue. “I’m afraid that’s classified.”

The editors cut the scene and jump to the video montage of Erik going about his life, but you can hear Katherine’s tittering laugh of delight in your mind. You roll your eyes, remembering just how …. fond Katherine had been of Erik.

You wonder just how many times they had to practice that scene; but from Erik’s amused smile after delivering the punchline, you can tell that he was enjoying himself.

On screen, Erik walks by the FBI Headquarters building in DC. He leans against the wall underneath the entrance plaque that reads J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building, staring off screen to his right – looking every bit the Fed in his black suit and white shirt – no tie – and sunglasses. Very mysterious.

“The nature of my work is that I’m on the move a lot. It hasn’t made it easy to meet people or date in the traditional sense. It’s been especially hard on my daughter, who wouldn’t see me for sometimes a month or two at a time.”

Accompanying Erik’s voiceover monologue on screen is Erik and a young, dark-haired girl cooking a meal together, talking and laughing.

“For many years, our relationship was quite strained. I can’t talk about my work so Hanna didn’t understand why I had to leave all the time, or why I would be gone for so long. But, what goes around comes around, as the saying goes. She’s currently training to be an FBI agent herself. I’d say we get along quite well now.”

On screen, Erik is sitting in the interview chair once again. He looks utterly relaxed, sitting back, though not slouching, against the backrest.

“I saw my daughter watching the show once, a few years ago, and I suppose it stuck somewhere in the back of my mind. There’s much about it that appeals to me. Maybe it’s because I’m a very competitive guy.”

Katherine’s voice, teasing: “So, you think you’ll win, then?”

Erik smirks, a good-natured gesture, but there’s also some cockiness underneath the surface. The smile of a man confident in the knowledge of his own worth. “Yes. I think I’ll win.”

***

Taking up the screen now is the beautiful exterior of the Spanish villa where you stayed for the duration of the show. It’s evening: the arched entrance is aglow in shimmering lights and the outside garden creates an intimate atmosphere of exotic hospitality.

Your entire body tingles, remembering the warm sun, the beach, and the all-inclusive amenities of the villa: a pool and hot tub; an inside gym with all types of machines imaginable; an immense kitchen and dining area, and an even bigger living room with the largest, comfiest couch you ever experienced. Even had you not met the love of your life there, it would have been, at the very least, the best holiday of your life.

Katherine walks out, dressed elegantly but discreetly in a black and red suit; she can’t be stealing the spotlight from you, the Chosen Lady of the season, after all.

Facing the camera, blinking her eyes that probably weigh a ton under all that mascara, Katherine flashes her iconic smile at the camera. As the show’s host for the sixth season, she’s the only person there who truly feels at home.

“You’ve met the woman, and you’ve met the men. Now, it’s time for the woman to meet her men. They are waiting for her inside the villa – and I do believe I see her limo pulling up now.”

The black limousine pulls up to the entrance of the villa, the chauffeur steps out, and you see your red stiletto heels appear from under the opened door.

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @skvatnavle @yespolkadotkitty @mayhem24-7forever @immyownlittlebitch @weallhaveadestiny @bewitchedignition @lavenderluna10 @ed-baldwin @fairchildflag @katjnordstrom96 @kirsteng42 @phoenixhalliwell @heresathreebee @s-u-t @littlefreakingfangirl

#Rick flag #joel kinnaman #takeshi kovacs #stephen holder #ed baldwin #erik heller #pete koslow #frank wagner #suicide squad fanfiction #altered carbon #for all mankind #the killing #hanna 2019 #johan falk #collaboration #dating show au

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