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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 4 years

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Billy Russo x Female!Reader

Request by @nebulastarr : Hey! Whenever requests open up again, could you do a Billy Russo x Reader where the reader liked Billy but doesn’t want to tell him because she thinks he won’t feel the same way

A/N: I was going to wait and get down to writing this once I was finished with my series... But this one has simply hit a little too close to home. I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I saw it and I ended up putting a lot of personal stuff in it so I’m sorry if it feels chaotic at times. Thank you for requesting, love, I hope it lives up to your expectations. The Only Living Thing series will be back with its third part next week. The song: Isak Danielson - Power

All you heard was an excited scream, that raised above all of the New York’s past-6-pm commotion, as a slender tall body smashed into you, locking you in a bone-crushing hug. You laughed happily, albeit feeling a little bit uncomfortable in Karen’s strong hold. You knew it didn’t seem that way, but Karen packed a wicked punch in those elegant arms of hers. Those self-defense sessions with Frankie boy that she’s been gushing about over the phone must have been finally paying off.

“Once I am done hugging you, I am so kicking your ass,” she breathed out into your hair as she squeezed you harder, as if reading your thoughts. “You’ve been ghosting me for what, a month now?”

You sighed guiltily as Karen pushed you slightly away, keeping her hands on your shoulders. You watched her as she studied your face, a creeping smile stinging at the corners of her mouth.

Grabbing one of her elbows, you groaned dramatically, pulling her towards the busy road. With your hands locked, you finally admitted:

“I did suck at communicating these past couple of weeks. Work’s been…. hectic”, the lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but this was the best explanation you’ve been able to come up with so far. “Please don’t kill me”.

Trying to keep up with your power walk, Karen let a bubbling laughter leave her lips.

“You’re not the one who should be worried then,” she gave you one of those bright trademark smiles of hers. “Next time I’m going to interview Russo, I’ll…”

You stuttered at her tirade as you walked, and of course it didn’t go by unnoticed. Karen was the best journalist you have ever met during your prominent career. She just sensed that sort of thing.

“I’m getting this ‘I-meant-to-tell-you-Karen-but-I-didn’t-and-now-you’ll-need-to-fight-it-out-of-me’ vibe”, she gave you a scrutinising look. “Want to maybe share whatever it is you’ve been not telling me before I go full interrogation mode on your plump backside?”

You rolled your eyes as you led her to a terrace-ringed Upper East Side high-rise, waving to the doorman through the glass doors. Jackson, a thirty-five year old ex-military with three kids and a labrador, gave you a brilliant smile as he hurried to open them for you.

“Good evening, Mrs Y/L/N!” He bowed his head in a stiff, very army-like manner. “A package arrived this afternoon for you, should I bring it up?”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Karen looking around, confusion written all over her face. You had a lot to catch up on.

“Don’t worry about it, Jax, just give it to me,” you didn’t mean to urge him, but you couldn’t wait to change out of your corporate attire into some comfortable old pyjamas and crack open a bottle of whiskey - that’s right, some habits did die hard. And to think you were a bubbles-kind of girl a year ago when you met him.

You could feel Karen’s blue eyes drill a hole in the back of your head as you took a small, envelope-sized package from Jackson’s hands.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the elevator that Karen cleared her throat.

“When you said you’d rather have a girls’ night in, I asked Frank to pick me up from Queens, not from…here,” she spoke, her eyes skimming expensive red wood and mirrors. “Did you finally sleep with Russo and moved in with him?”

Whatever it was that Karen expected you to say to that, it definitely didn’t include you spitting out a roaring laugh, as you nearly dropped the package on the floor.

“Quite the opposite, actually,” you informed her after you finally restored your breath. “I left Anvil. And, well, Russo. At the end of last month”.

—

A half-bottle of whiskey for you and a bottle of white wine for Karen later, both of you were sprawled out on the lambskins thrown over the hardwood floor in your living room. Jazz music was seeping out of the speakers by the TV, a couple of Diptyque candles emitting a soft yellow glow.

You stared at the ceiling of your new living quarters, your mind a blur. As you folded your hands on your stomach, you felt Karen twitch as she bent her elbow and leaned her blond head on the palm of her hand, facing you.

“So let me get this straight,” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “After becoming the Forbes’ hottest CSO, concluding what can easily be described as deals of the century - especially the one with Anthony Stark aka Iron Man and his magnificent goatee…”

Involuntary, you giggled at this. This talk brought out some very dear memories that you wouldn’t trade for the world - the way Billy’s dark eyes shimmered in the dim lights of the opera house as he gave you a look that said you did it, ever the perfect team… Or the way he threw his arms around your frame, his long fingers sliding down your back… You knew you looked good in that dress, but the moment Billy saw you wearing it… You felt like the only girl in the world, the way his jaw dropped a tad, his lips opening up in awe…

Oookay, Y/N, can’t go there, your mind screamed at you as you wiped that dreamy smile off your face. Sitting down, you took your whiskey glass, and washed those memories away with a gulp of amber liquid.

Meanwhile, Karen ranted on.

“…you just quit?!”

She jumped to her feet all of the sudden, brushing her blond hair away from her face as she watched you excitedly.

“Jesus Christ, did Billy make a move?! He made a move on you, didn’t he?”

The urge to facepalm was fierce, almost overpowering, but you managed to resist. Slamming your empty glass against the floor harder than you intended, you gave her a bored look.

“No, Karen, why… Why in the world would you think that?” You sounded just a little short of desperate, so you cleared your throat. “I was his second-in-command, that wouldn’t have been appropriate…”

When you were done studying the flame, dancing within the glass walls of one of the nearby candles, you raised your eyes to meet Karen’s. She wore quite possibly the most blatant look of ‘you are shitting me’ on her face.

“So you just quit?” she stared at you in disbelief, unblinking. “No explanations provided?”

“This wasn’t how it happened,” you said, hating the fact that you felt like you had to justify yourself. You brought your knees closer, hugging them tightly. “I…”

—

“…I’m here to see William Russo”.  

With a nonchalant gesture, you unbuttoned your Burberry coat, looking at a red-head secretary behind a desk that screamed power and status with every inch of its epic proportions.

Anvil was certainly new money. With all of those hedge funds injecting their cash into emerging companies, there was no shortage of these - entrepreneurial endeavours that didn’t last long.

You didn’t know that at the time, but you were going to make sure this one would.

“My name is Y/N Y/N/L,” you added, perching your sunglasses on top of your head. “He’s expecting me.”

The red-head gave you a polite smile before checking something on her Mac.

“Welcome, Miss Y/N/L,” she almost seemed shy, as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before standing up. “Mr Russo is indeed waiting for you. If you would like to follow me, please”.

As the redhead led you through the training grounds, packed with fit men and women that looked like they walked straight outta Gym Shark ad, you did notice a couple of vagrant stares in your direction. You couldn’t blame them. You looked slightly out of place; more Vogue than the setting allowed for.

You quit your job as the COO of a global FinTech company just weeks ago, looking for a new challenge. It was an adventure of a lifetime, and while your ex-executive board had literally begged you to stay, once you’d decided something, no promise of a generous promotion could make you change your mind. While you absolutely loved your job, working for one of the most prominent online payment giants in the world, it felt like it was time for you to step down. Due to all the processes and wise investments you’d initiated, the company could make millions of profits without their CEO having so much as to lift a finger.

And you, well, you lived for the hustle. And that’s exactly what you were here for.

You still had your doubts about Anvil’s owner and acting CEO, though. William “Billy” Russo had already become a household name in the financial circles, albeit the company he was spearheading had little to do with the FinTech space. Some said he had the potential to succeed; others badmouthed him for being ruthless and balancing on the very edge of legal limits.

In short, the man had you intrigued. So the very moment he called and invited you to drop by Anvil to talk strategy, you knew you had to meet him.

See the beast for yourself, so to speak.

The first thing you noticed about William Russo as you walked into his office, spacious and entirely transparent, with its glass walls overlooking the training grounds, was experience, for the lack of a better word. It was etched into his every handsome feature, especially into his scruff strong-willed jaw. As he raised his gaze to meet yours upon the red-head’s announcement, his black eyes swallowing you whole, you realized no light reflected on their surface. There was a certain confidence to him as he raised from his chair, his white shirt straining some over his chest, long dark strands of hair falling onto his long eyelashes. This man meant business, as those black impenetrable eyes zeroed in on yours. He almost seemed too flawless - to spotless to be an ex-marine, stained with blood and murder.

All that Hallmark handsomeness was nothing but a cover.

Before William Russo had even got a chance to open his mouth, you were determined to find out what was lurking underneath.

“Mrs Y/L/N”, the hot-shot gave you a polite smile. “Thank you for coming”.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Russo”, you didn’t move an inch. He may have invited you for interview, but he wasn’t the only one with a long set of demands.

You briefly wondered if he knew that.

Before your thoughts could take you further, William Russo made his way to you, composed and calculated. He stopped by your side, albeit for a moment; rolling the sleeves of his shirt further up, he shot the red-head a charming smile (nothing like the one he gave you).

“Olivia, would you please bring a fresh pot of coffee to the conference room? Mrs Y/L/N and I have a lot to discuss”.

When he turned back to face you, you noted unconsciously that he was taller than you expected, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders. The cool and composed look was back on his face as he motioned towards the doors.

“Would you like to follow me, Mrs…”

“Y/N”, you cut in with a slight raise of your chin. “I’d also prefer to call you William while I tear Anvil’s strategy down”.

His reaction didn’t disappoint. Some tension left his arms, his stung-up body relaxing just enough for a spark of mischief and curiosity flicker its way to his eyes’ surface.

A twinkle of a smile danced across his lips as he bit on the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly in approval.

“It’s Billy”, he said, amusement echoing in his every word. "I don’t expect any leniency, Y/N”.

“Good”, you replied instantly, looking him straight into his eyes. “That’s not what I came here for”.

He nodded again.

And this time, there was liveliness in the quirk of his brow and a touch of insecurity in the corners of his mouth.

Now that was the man you could potentially work with.

—

Working with William Russo was anything but predictable. There were, however, certain patterns to his way of handling things. Whatever the trouble was, Billy was good at seeing the bigger picture - he was usually able to put things into perspective, but there were occasions when he refused to. You dare say that sometimes, you felt like he thought that money didn’t matter - like Anvil’s financial prosperity didn’t matter - as long as his team got not to risk their lives one extra time. You watched him turn down several lucrative deals that you’d busted your ass to put on his table, because it involved sending his men a little too far from home, in a place where he had no strings to pull whatsoever should anything go south. A part of you (the part that wasn’t frustrated as hell) admired him for that - it didn’t, however, stop you from disagreeing with him, time and again.

You may have never been to Iraq, and may have never known the horrors of sleeping with the bombs exploding a mere kilometer away, but you knew a game-changer when you saw it. There were risks involved, there was no arguing about that, but those were calculated, and those kind of deals could make Anvil jump straight to the top of the private military sector overnight.

William and you disagreed.

When William and you disagreed, no voice was raised, no blood was spilt, but Billy usually became distant, cold and just short of snappy when those conversations took place. 

He only crossed the line once.

  You were three months into your job as Anvil’s Chief Strategy Officer when Mayhew happened.

The clock on your desk showed midnight as you paced in your office, on the phone with Rex Mayhew, the U.S. Ambassador in Cairo. A cat-and-mouse game between the Egyptian Armed Forces and the nefarious arms dealer group had become common knowledge since a week or so; the U.S. special forces got involved in the conflict when it’d been discovered that the arms were being transported onto American soil. Rex, an old friend from your Yale days, had let you in on the fact that General Richard Ravelin, in charge of the operation, was looking to reinforce his rangs with private military before “neutralising the threat”. This was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, with a potential governmental recognition in play… and Billy wanted to hear nothing of it.

You were exhausted and barely hanging in there; Billy was categorical and stubborn.

You’ve dropped the phone on your table promising Rex you were going to give him an answer in two hours, tops. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of your office, your bare feet thudding on the parquet floors of the corridor. When you reached Billy’s hideout, you found the man leaning against his desk with a glass of whiskey in his unnerved hand.

“Billy…” you spoke firmly, barely stepping through the doorway. “Rex…”

“Can go fuck himself”.

Oh, okay. No sugarcoating this. Alright.

You saw his lips barely touch the amber liquid as he slammed the glass against the surface of his desk.

“I said no, Y/N,” he wasn’t facing you anymore, leaning on his desk with his hands digging into the wood, his back tense. “Please just go home. Have a good night sleep. We will talk about this tomorrow.”

You could have sworn you felt your head starting to fume. This was the third time Billy Russo was shutting you down. For the third time he was making you feel like an incompetent fool when you were trying to do your goddamn job.

Why in hell would he hire you if whatever vision you had for Anvil didn’t match with his own?!

“You could at least say this to my face, Billy,” you spoke a bit harshly before you could stop yourself. “You know, to my tired and disappointed face, with a mouth that you have been shutting up every time it offers you a deal of the century”.

This sounded so much better in your head.

“Why did you hire me?” you asked almost immediately, trying to soften the impact of the words that had already escaped. “If this isn’t the direction in which you want to take your company, maybe I should just…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Y/N, just fucking leave already!” Billy snapped like a branch that’s been holding too much weight, the sound of it dry and final.

…maybe I should just rethink the entire plan.

There was no point in finishing that sentence now, was there?

“I was there long before you came along, so I’d think I know a shitstorm in the making when I see one!” Billy was looking at you alright, brushing his hair back, his eyes black and void.

You had wished It would have been new to you - looking in William Russo’s eyes and not seeing him there. But it wasn’t. He was back to his Hallmark version of a man, but instead of playing a hero, he was now putting on his villain guise.

“Let’s get something straight here,” he leaned back on his desk, crossing his arms on his chest, his black eyes narrowed. “While you were making your way to the top of a rich-ass cookie-cutter FinTech company, I was crawling in the dirt in Iraq under a downpour of the Trident D5LE missiles. While the closest thing you’ve come to havin’ your hands dirty was bribing an investor or two, I was fucking beheadin’ people under the direction of the CIA,” his words were cold, measured and rhythmic, like a round of bullets being fired on a range. “You know nothing of what’s it like to be in the middle of that kind of shit show, princess, so when I fucking say no, you listen. Is that clear?”

Bark. Sit. Roll over.

“Crystal. Sir.”, you finally broke the heavy silence hanging in the air, just barely resisting the urge to salute him. “I’ll see myself out.”

Biting the inside of your cheek like your life depended on it, once you turned your back on him, your first thought was don’t you dare cry on his account, bitch and then almost right away wait at least until you’re home.

You could have sworn you heard William call your name in a stranded voice, but you made sure to slam the door somewhat hard as you left his office so you could pretend you didn’t hear him.

If you were to face him now, with all that power and toughness he exuded… You would never admit it, even to yourself, but you’d just end up on the floor, huddled into a shivering little ball.

—

You were grateful that the next day after the shit went down with Mayhew fell on a Friday. When you stumbled into your apartment in Queens at almost one in the morning, you immediately shot an email to the HR department asking for a day off. Once that’d been done, you dialled Rex to decline his offer to introduce Anvil to general Ravelin, washed the makeup off your face and crawled into bed, hugging the second pillow close to your chest.

You didn’t cry, if that’s what you’re wondering.

As you rolled out of bed in the morning at around 8 am, you took a shower and grabbed a coffee from the kitchen before settling behind your home office desk with a heavy head. When you opened up the Keynote presentation with your strategy outlined for the H1, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at the iPhone you left on your couch last night.

You weren’t going to check if you had any missing calls.

There was nothing you had left to say to each other.

…with your chest hollow, you powered up the screen. There were no missed calls and no new messages.

It all looked like you had another strategy to build now. If Billy Russo thought that calling you a rich-ass princess that knew nothing of the world, all butterflies and rainbows, was going to make you resign, then man, was he in for a surprise.

You once heard one of his men compare you to a military convoy, when the guy thought you weren’t listening.

He had no idea.

You spent the morning refilling you coffee cup and rebuilding your H1 plan from scratch. After about eleven calls with the people you knew could get you a foot in the door of the offices of some government officials, billionaires and generals, after typing, deleting and typing again for 5 hours straight, by 2pm you had a solid game plan. You were pretty sure it would still need some tweaking from Castle, who essentially held the role of the Chief Operating Officer, dispatching men and women on missions and planning operations, and, well, from Billy Russo.

The Badass-ex-Sniper-turned-CEO himself.

You kept the email short and to-the-point, sending the document over to Russo with Castle on copy, saying you’d be in the office to debrief on Monday.   Refusing to check whether your email’d been opened, you slammed your MacBook shut.

The rest of the day rolled on uneventfully. You grabbed a coffee with the People Culture Officer from your previous company, who also happened to be one of your dearest friends; then you picked up your dry cleaners and did some shopping, cracking for a pair of new shoes in Saks Fifth Avenue.

Shoes were, indeed, your weakness.

By the time you got home, the tired sun was yawning, stretching its rays in one last effort before rolling into bed. Humming a Dua Lipa song under your breath, you were putting your new Jimmy Choo’s away when you suddenly heard your phone ring.

You didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.   You checked the time, however, noticing is was two minutes after the official end of the working day.

“Hi, Y/N”, Billy spoke, clearing his throat. “Are you… Um… Any chance you’re available to meet tonight? I would really appreciate it if you could give me fifteen minutes of your time. Please.”

It sounded like the real Billy Russo was back around. Insecure. Rugged. Imperfect.

“Can you pick me up?” you asked softly, “I’ll text you my address. There’s a pizza place just around the corner, I could use a free slice”, you circled the cold coffee cup you left on the counter with your finger. “Free as in you’re paying, Russo”.

A laugh that came somewhere from within caressed your ear.

“Uh, yes, I’m actually… Yeah, thanks. I’m leaving the office now,” even if he tried to hide it, a shocked surprise still seeped through the cracks in between the vowels.

You chuckled silently at his reaction.

“Just one more thing,” you ventured, placing the cup in the sink and making your way to the balcony - your small piece of heaven with a wooden chair, pillows and lavender. As you stepped outside, you put oyour free hand on the railing, just to feel the coolness of it, the evening air and the gentle flower smell stroking your skin. “What kind of car should I be on the lookout for?”

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip, running his nervous fingers through the thick strands of dark hair. The setting sun was hitting him just from the right angle, making his sculpted cheeks look like they were made of marble.

“A Rolls Royce Wraith”, he squirmed, rubbing his forehead, probably realising how lame and pretentious it sounded. “I’ll call you once I’m downstairs”.

“Uh-huh”, you smirked, leaning on the railing with your forearms.

You saw Russo pinch the bridge of his nose, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip again.   Your small balcony provided quite a view, when you really thought about it.

“Don’t take too long”, you couldn’t help it, it really was stronger than you. “I’m starving”.

With a wide grin, you dropped the call and went back into your apartment.

You were planning to make him wait for ten extra minutes when he would finally “arrive”.

Just for the hell of it.

—

“That’s a lot of hot sauce for one pizza”, Billy commented, watching you spray your truffles and cheese generously with the piquant olive oil.

You gave him a mischievous smile.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair and licking the tip of your finger after you swept a drop of it from the top of the bottle. “I like them hot”.

That startled a laugh out of Billy as he eyed you with something in his irises looking a lot like awe.

Just when he was about to speak, a servant brought a glass of red wine for him and bottle of sparkling water for you.

You thanked the guy with a sweet smile, while Billy eyed him a bit coldly, obviously waiting for him to leave.

When the waiter had finally made himself scarce, Billy softly called your name.

You raised your eyes to meet him, struggling as hell to keep your stare vacant. (Which was hard to do with some foreign tightness in your throat).

“Before we dig in and I hope spend a nice evening as two friends, getting together on a Friday night”, he didn’t even blink? Was he blinking? You couldn’t tell, his black eyes swallowing you whole, again. “I want to apologise. I was completely out of line… It was unacceptable. You don’t need my validation, of course, but I still want you to know that you are doing a terrific job at Anvil, taking us to the heights I never even thought existed. It’s just… It’s hard for me sometimes to be a good CEO and someone who promised to take care of my men at the same time… Everything is happening so fast, I’m afraid to lose my footing.”

You reached out for his hand across the table before you could stop yourself. You didn’t take it, but your fingers brushed his ever so slightly before you realized what you were just about to do. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, searching for a reaction.   Billy remained perfectly still, not taking his eyes off you.

You grabbed a napkin next to his wrist, pretending this was what you had meant to do all along.   “We’ll get there, Billy”, you said, a small encouraging smile blooming on your lips. “We just need some tweaking”.

You weren’t sure if you were talking about strategy at this point anymore.

—

You had a great time at dinner.

(And a whole-hearted laugh as Billy finished your remainders of the truffle pizza, downing a litre of water to numb down the burning sensation in his throat afterwards).

You talked about your respective lives, your ex-colleagues, your hopes for the future… You dared think this who the real Billy Russo was.

And he was incredible.

After the two of you were done with dinner, you offered him to come upstairs to your place and go through the new strategy together. He didn’t hesitate, although you could swear you’d seen something ambiguous flash in the depths of his dark eyes before he nodded.

(You must have imagined it.)

The two of you ended up sprawled out on your soft faux fur carpet talking game plan, bouncing ideas off each other. You watched Billy frown, as he rubbed his mouth with his long fingers, smile in excitement and shake his head in awe when you voiced your ideas - you felt proud and appreciated, and you wouldn’t trade the sensation for anything in the world.

A couple of hours later the two of you had finally decided that it was enough brainstorming for one night, and you rose to your feet to go and make Billy a coffee before he got behind the wheel. As you pushed the start button on your coffee machine, you heard him speak over the noise.

“You know I’ve done four tours - three in Iraq and one in Afghanistan”, you popped your head up, only to see him play absentmindedly with something on his chest. “And every time I’m considering a mission for Anvil, I find myself back in there again… A part of a death squad.”

You carefully picked up his cup of coffee and made your way back to him. You didn’t say a word as you leaned lower to hand it over to him, encouraging him to go on.   Billy thanked you in a whisper before clearing his throat.

“Every time I have to send them somewhere, especially overseas, I force myself to stop and think… Is this really worth it? Is a fat check really worth putting the lives of my men and women in danger? And most importantly - you may think it’s stupid…” he avoided your gaze, staring into his coffee cup, a miserable smile on his lips. “I think, will it make a difference? If one of them dies on a mission, I have to at least know they made a difference… it’s selfish and it’s more about the peace of my own mind, but it is what it is, you know?”

When he looked up at you, his eyes were full, full to the brim. There was so much emotion in them, hatred, misery, hope, adoration, all whipped in a wild mix that was Billy Russo’s dark, velvet eyes.

“I carry these at all times,” the fingers of his free hand dropped to his chest, as he got a hold of something hanging around his neck. A necklace? “When in doubt, I just look at them - they help me remember where I’ve been and what I’ve done - and I just know if it’s worth it or not. The answer is usually no, by the way”.

He smiled again, the curve of his lips looking less haunted this time, as he sipped on his coffee.

Dog tags. Those were Russo’s dog tags.

“So they’re your reminder that, even being a badass CEO of a private military company”, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of zero gravity settling in your lower stomach as you saw him chuckle at your words. “…you still have a heart”.

“How poetic”, Billy teased you without missing a beat, putting the empty cup on the floor next to him. “But yeah. Sort of, I guess”.

As you fell asleep that night, you dreamed about explosions, piquant olive oil and holding Billy Russo’s dog tags in your hand.

—

The time flew by after that. In 8-month time (after some tweaking) Billy Russo and you became a team. It sometimes felt like nothing could stop you, as long as you were together.

It should not have come as a surprise that the two of you earned yourselves a catchy nickname - at first, it was spoken solely behind your backs, but soon enough it became some kind of a title, more powerful than that of the CEO or the CSO.

Anvil’s men and women (and especially Frank - the fact that he invented the nickname secretly tickled him pink) - were now calling you Bonnie and Clyde. The ultimate partners in crime, against all odds, doing the impossible.

The two of you also settled in an almost homely kind of routine. Ever since that Mayhew fiasco and the day that followed, Friday had become the non-spoken partners in crime day. What it meant in practice was exchanging Friday jokes on Anvil’s internal communications suite…

(Billy once attacked you with a “would you look at this, just found the actual footage of your interview @ Anvil”. Before you even got a chance to answer, he forwarded you a cheesy meme with two old women speaking to each other, one of them saying “We need someone who can do the job of two men”, and the other responding “oh, so it’s only a part-time job then”. When you shot him back a message asking whether he really considered himself an arthritic old woman, that seemed to have shut him up).

…grabbing a beer in a bar nearby…

(you sometimes invited your colleagues to join you, plus it was an unspoken rule that Frank and Karen were to be there as well)

…you making fun of Billy Russo’s eating habits…

(It was honestly a nuisance to have a lunch with him. The list of things he refused to eat went on and on: no asian food, no food chain restaurants (even high-rated), no soups, no cheesecakes… He sure was settling well in that peaceful life he earned after spending all those tours living off canned food).

…and just overall enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the ninth month of your being Anvil’s CSO had rolled in, you couldn’t imagine not seeing Billy Russo every day. Not noticing him rolling his eyes at a smart-ass comment you or Frank made, or his orbs lighting up every time you told him the deal with that or this decision maker had gone through. You simply could not understand how you managed to live day in and day out, and think you were genuinely happy, before you actually met Billy. Everything before him just faded away somehow, your memories lost their colour and spike in comparison to the life you were living now. You kicked ass at your job, your career thrived, but most importantly, you were feeling like this was exactly where you were meant to be, braving the obstacles by Billy Russo’s side, knowing he would catch you should you fall.

He would, wouldn’t he?

It was your usual Friday night outing, the seven of you - Billy, Frank, Karen, Curtis, James from legal, Ashley from mine clearance and yourself - occupying your usual table at Whimsy, the bar that must have made 90% or their revenus off of Anvil’s folk. It was just around the corner from the headquarters, after all.

The overall mood of the evening was rather nostalgic. It’d been four weeks since you’d lost a team member in a crossfire in Falluja, Iraq. After everything was said and done, his loss still hung heavy in the air, and it felt right to get one more drink in Jasper’s honour. The conversation flowed easily, even though the topics you’d spoken about were anything but.

“I remember how I felt when I lost Andy”, Ashley nursed her beer as she stared into the distance. “I just literally had the weight of the entire world on my shoulders, pinning me to the ground, I just couldn’t move on”, she finished her bottle in one go and motioned for the bartender to bring her another one. “Sometimes, I just ask myself, what would have I done if I’d known he was going to die the next day? Would I have stopped him from going? I think I would,” she thanked the bartender as he put the beer in front of her, her eyes a bit foggy. “Yeah, I definitely would have.”

Frank grasped Ashley’s shoulder and squeezed it hard in a comforting gesture; Karen gave her a tender look.

You didn’t know why your mind had gone there, but all of the sudden a memory of Billy sitting in his office chair, laughing his ass off at some offhand comment you’d made flashed before your eyes; it quickly got replaced by the recollection of his hand brushing against yours during the Zoom meeting you’ve had with general Warren Singer; then you remembered him putting his hand on the small of your back, staring daggers at some army brat wanting to join Anvil, eyeing you like a piece of meat (you learned later that day that the man’d been thrown out before having a chance to introduce himself); until finally, your brain stopped dead at the picture of Billy running his nervous fingers through his hair as he called you from his car, telling you he was only leaving the office.

What would you do if you knew he was going to die tomorrow?

Your heart sunk at the thought as you gulped hard, ducking your head and staring at your hands folded in your lap.

A soft touch enveloping your elbow had you facing the man of the hour, his black eyes shimmering with concern.

“Are you okay?” he half-whispered, half-mouthed, not letting go of your hand.

No.

Nothing is okay, Billy.

I’m so happy that I met you, but you’re scaring the hell out of me.

I never wanted any form of eternity until now, I never saw the point…

So stay. Please, stay forever, and feel something for me, too.

“Yes. I’m fine,” you whispered back, staring into his eyes, hypnotised and helpless. You watched him turn away from you as if in slow motion, the warmth of his hand leaving nothing behind but emptiness in your bones.

“Here is to always telling the things that matter to the people who matter”, Billy spoke firmly, raising his beer. “Here’s to never missing a chance to open up to the people we love”.

Well, if this was his way of crossing the t's and putting the dots to the i’s regarding his feelings for you, he couldn’t have been clearer.  

As far as confessions of love went, this one was non-existent.

—

You tried, time and again, to convince yourself you had to go. You learned the hard way that your unrequited feelings were feeding on a sort of inadvertent parasitic relationship where every moment of your day depended on the level of Billy’s unintentional emotional indifference. Your days were spent questioning his every move - every look and every touch; until, the grown-ass woman that you were, you’d commanded yourself to stop second-guessing everything - stop feeling - and decided your best course of action would be… to work yourself into the ground.

If Billy ever noticed anything, he didn’t show it - your were still you, after all, working hard, laughing when he said something funny, calling him out on his bullshit when needed. He didn’t notice slight change in your eyes, when their icy surface cracked at every other compliment he threw in your direction (and there was no shortage of those). He didn’t realize the smile you gave him was different from those tightlipped signs of appreciation you gave to Anvil’s potential clients, he didn’t think twice about the reason for which you glowed around him, your every move softening, your every gesture emanating warmth.

Because Billy hadn’t really known you until you started to have feelings for him.

You knew this couldn’t go on forever. This entire situation was bound to result in some explosion of nuclear proportions, and then all hell would break loose. You needed to get yourself out of this situations, but you just… couldn’t. You couldn’t imagine your life without Billy Russo. You couldn’t leave him.

Even if being friends with him meant tearing yourself apart and suffering in silence.

  Long story short, you waited with fear in your bones for someone to walk into your life and to get you out. You’ve had no fight left in you to do it yourself.

Your salvation came in the form of a phone call on a Friday evening, when Billy was on a recruiting mission in California.

You were typing back a response to his cheeky message when the call cut in half-sentence.

Billy Russo: Please remind me to take you with me instead of Frank next time? He’s driving me insane trying to set me up with the ladies from the Organising Committee. Any ideas on how I can calm him the fuck down?

You: Sorry, Billy, but recruiting is out of my mission scope. As for the calm down part, try bondage maybe? :)

Billy Russo: I’m going to pretend you did not just suggest I engage in sexual practices with Frankie. Karen will have my balls.

Billy Russo: But perhaps you’re right. Taking you with me is probably not a good idea. Wouldn’t want my new recruits’ brains to turn into mush because of how beautiful you are.

You: The flattery will….

“Hello? Y/N speaking”, you brought your phone close to your ear, your cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. If you were going to feel miserable when Billy came back, acting like nothing happened, you were sure going to make the best of that fuzzy feeling in your chest right now.

“Miss Y/N/L”, a smooth deep voice greeted you, and you could have sworn you’d heard it many times before. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Frowning in an attempt to remember, you urged:

“No, not at all. How can I help you?” you stared into the screen of your Mac, wheels turning in your head as you silently catalogued all the men you were in discussions with regarding a deal. “I didn’t catch your name…”

“Oh, how rude of me”, the man chuckled but there was no mockery in his voice, more like self-depreciation. “Tony Stark, from Stark Industries”.

Your mind went blank. Did you hear his last words correctly?

“Uh… Mr. Stark”, you quickly got a hold of yourself - well, as quickly as you could. “I appreciate you reaching out to me directly. What can Anvil do for you?”

You did a pretty bang-up job trying to mask your amazement with polite cheerfulness, and Stark had caught on that.

Tony Stark just called your cellphone number. What in the world?…

“We don’t really do alien invasions”.

Ohyourgod, did you just say it out loud?!

His uproarious laughter took you by surprise, reverberating through your entire body. It took every ounce of your self-control not to giggle in response.

“That’s a good one, I love it”, Stark finally said, restoring his breath. “And the better question would be, Y/N - can I call you Y/N? - what you can do for me”.

Before your brain could take you into some naughty direction, freaking Iron Man cleared his throat.

“Okay, this came out wrong,” he admitted with a sense of self-irony. “I um… I’m looking for the Co-Chief Executive Officer for Stark Industries. Well, Virginia Potts is actually looking for a Co-CEO, I’m just her errand boy. And my missions apparently include recruiting…. Anyway,” it was a bit of a challenge to follow Anthony Stark’s train of thought, but you were also still shocked, so that could explain it. “…I think you are the perfect fit for the job”.

You just stared into the screen front of you, your breathing barely audible.

“Mrs Potts and I would love it if you could swing by the A-Tower, let’s say, on Thursday? You’ll be surprised, but I can also whip up a mean cup of coffee…”

Say something.

Fucking hell.

Say something!…

“Thursday sounds great,” you blurted out without thinking. “Let me just shuffle my schedule around… I could stop by after lunch?”   Your hands were slightly shaking as you clicked on your mouse, opening your schedule window.

“Whatever works for you, Y/N”, you could hear Stark smile. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve been following your career for quite a while now, and I think that the work you've done in such a short span of time for Anvil is outstanding, even though you still don’t offer protection from alien invasions”.

That made you chuckle, pushing you halfway out of your stupor.

“I’ll put that on the list of things for us to consider”, you promised.

"Tell Mr. Russo I sent my best,” Stark added, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. “I actually might have some ideas for how we could collaborate. Let's discuss this on Thursday, too, shall we?”

After you said your goodbyes, you fell back in your chair, dropping your iPhone on the table.

You: The flattery will….

...get you nowhere.

You never finished that message, leaving Russo on Read.

—

Starting with that evening, things were moving fast - too fast for you to keep track.

After a three-hour long coffee and the tour of the A-Tower, Virginia Potts, the acting CEO of the Stark Industries, had offered you the job - just like that - and asked you to come back to her executive assistant should you wish to take the job, with your salary expectations and the information about your notice period. You thanked her for her time and promised to get back to her as soon as you made your decision.

Virginia Potts was a brilliant woman; but running a company like Stark Industries while being equipped with a vagina was certainly no walk in the park. Sexism was still very much present within the Boards of the Tech Businesses. You understood perfectly well why she wanted a woman in her corner - it would have been a massive slap in the Board’s face, but it was also about having someone to lean on, who just understood.

In any other circumstances you would have peed your pants in excitement. It was an opportunity to work for Stark Industries - no, scratch that - it was an opportunity to step in as a Stark Industries co-CEO. The idea of it still made you dizzy.

…but as you looked at Virginia’s email sent to your personal address thanking you for stopping by, your eyes were swimming with tears.

You weren’t ready to leave Billy.  You just couldn’t.  You couldn’t leave him.   There was no epic finale to your story. There was no big revelation, no closure, no moment of relief, no acceptance, nothing. Only a fat-ass what if.

And you didn’t know how to let go of a what if with Billy Russo.

And that was exactly why you had to do it.

You heard Billy come in the next Monday earlier than usual. He was positively humming Usher’s Yeah! quietly as he made his way past your office’s doors straight into his own.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’ve been psyching yourself up during the entire weekend, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal, we wouldn’t even flinch when you were going to tell him.

You had to tell him.

As you stood up from your chair, straightening you skirt with the palms of your hands, you suddenly heard the footsteps coming back in your direction. You froze in place like a deer in headlights when Billy swung open the door to your office, a box of Pierre Hermé macarons in his hands.

Your goddamn favorite Pierre Hermé macarons.

“You’re here!” Billy’s warm smile illuminated the room. “So much for a surprise, huh?”

He shook the box carefully in the air. You stared at it, dumbfounded, every single thought leaving you.

You couldn’t breathe.

In the hazy morning light seeping through the windows of your office, Billy looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar, longer strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

He was going to be the death of you. It really wasn’t fair.

“Billy, I have to tell you something.”

Was it you who spoke those words? They seemed distant and cold, so uncharacteristically detached.

Blood roared in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

Billy’s reaction was instant. In three decisive steps he closed the distance that separated you, leaving the macarons on your desk. He stood still just mere inches away, and just like during your very first meeting, you had a fleeting thought cross your mind: you really were tiny next to him, the top of your head barely reaching his shoulders.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, trying to keep your composure. He stared at you unblinking. He wasn’t touching you, but it felt like his eyes were looking straight into your soul, undressing you, blowing that wall you built around yourself into dust. They were taking you down, piece by piece, determined to see what you’d been keeping from him.   Because, of course, he knew. He should have known something was going on. Hence the surprise this morning.

He had no idea what it was though.

“Maybe you should sit,” you said, making a physical effort to tear your eyes away from him, feigning sudden interest in the buttons of his shirt.

  That chest…

  …was going to be just fine. He didn’t feel the same way you did. He would just find someone else to fill your position. With brilliant women stalking him - in cooperative packs - that would not be a problem.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you”.

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as his words reached your ears.  Fucking hell, you should have done that by phone. Or with other people around. You should have…

“You’re leaving”, you heard Billy repeat as his voice broke a little. He stepped away, burying his face in his hands as he dragged them down his jaw and neck, staring into the ceiling.

“Billy, listen, I…”

You were the one to close the space between the two of you this time, and before you could think too much into it… You threw your hands around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

The sensation struck you like a bolt of lightening when you felt his hands cross behind you back and pull you closer.

He smelled heavenly. Like a forest fire, a hint of smoke with oud and pine. You inhaled deep, deeper still, losing yourself in his comforting touch.

In his arms, just for a second there, you felt home.

“You… The company doesn’t need me anymore”, you nearly choked on words, screaming internally at yourself to keep the waterworks at bay. “It’s thriving, there’s not much else I can give you. My job here is done.”

I need to leave because your indifference is destroying me, and when I think I’m ready to let go, all it takes is one look from you, and I’m back to wanting you, to settling for anything you give me, like a goddamn fool.

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?!” Billy exclaimed, his hands grasping your shoulders as he distanced your bodies just enough for him to look into your eyes. “I nee- The company needs you! I was… You know, I was planning to make you the CEO of Anvil in a couple months time,” his smile, as earnest as it was, did not reach his eyes. “Yeah”, noticing your eyes go wide in shock, he let his hands slide down your sides. “You’re so much better at it than I ever was. I was going to join Frank and just manage operations… under you”.

You just stared at him, dumbfounded, not feeling a stray tear escape your eye and rolling down your cheekbone.

“These are the tears of happiness, I hope”, Billy added, and you barely registered his touch as his thumb wiped the salty drop off. “Well, I guess Anvil will have to settle for the little old me. With my best girl going places."

You gave him a strained smile before you carefully wiped your cheeks, just taking a moment to look at him. To try and read him.

Billy Russo was a goddamn ceiling. Plain white, cool and unattainable. In all of your time working for him, you have never seen this Hallmark version of him before. Which one was it?  

Oh wait, you guessed you knew. The happy-for-you friend.

“So where are you going?” Billy asked, his eyes empty. “Who snatched you away from m- Anvil?”

The stutter was so subtle you barely noticed. You were finally tired of reading into shit.

“Stark Industries. I’ll be their co-CEO”.

—

Before you left Anvil you promised yourself you’d get the deal with Stark Industries up and running. There was no one in the world you trusted more in terms of security than Billy.

(The fact that you couldn’t keep your heart safe from him didn’t really count, did it?)

As a matter of fact, Billy and you were going to shake hands with Anthony Stark on the deal on your last night of being Anvil’s CSO. It was happening in The Metropolitan Opera and required both Billy and yourself to dress for the occasion.   He promised to come pick you up at 6pm sharp; you were putting on the Jimmy Choo’s you’d bought a coulee months ago in Saks Fifth Avenue when you heard a low knock on your door.

Straightening up, you threw a quick glance at your reflection in the mirror. You decided to go with a long Marchesa black velvet gown with a rather deep V-line, a pair of long diamond earrings and an elegant half-up half-down hairdo, soft curls in the front framing your face.

“I’m coming”, you yelled out, picking up your leather jacket (because why the hell not) and your purse from the kitchen counter. Sharply opening the entrance door, you realized moments later that you didn’t even take time to prepare yourself for seeing William Russo in a tux.

If you weren’t already half in love with him, the sight before your eyes would have sealed the deal.

God-fucking-damn, like he needed any help being unforgettable.

With a black jacket thrown on a crisp white shirt with a couple of buttons undone and the tie hanging loosely around his neck, Billy was here to make a statement, to leave a mark. His hair was coiffed back in his usual style; honest to God, he looked like he just stepped out of the Man of the Year special GQ edition…

Just when your thoughts were about to switch to the way you must have looked next to him, ridiculous in your simplicity, like you refused to make an effort…

…Your eyes met his.

And the way he looked at you was so intense, his big black eyes with galaxies in them probing into yours, his strong jaw slack. There was beauty and tragedy reflecting in those orbs, but only just for a second - just for a second, he looked at you the way he probably looked at the sky he could never reach. Just for a second, he looked at you the way that made your heart beat twice as fast, like the world could crumble all around him and he still would not have blinked.

Would not have taken his eyes off you.

“Wow, Y/N, you look… You look beautiful”, he finally said. “I just can't spot a part of you that beats the other.”

Something in your chest exploded silently.

“Thank you, Billy,” you smiled at him - a genuine and happy smile, because you felt on top of the world with his adoring eyes on you. “You’re quite a catch yourself”.

Before you could scold yourself for your choice of words, you stepped out of your apartment and locked the door behind you.

“Shall we?” Billy offered his hand to you, without hesitation it seemed.

“We shall”, you replied instantly, slowly sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow.

And, just like always, you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

—

The crowd in the opera was so posh, the looks all the women had been throwing you first made you question your choice of outfit. It’s after overhearing their conversations that you realized, the reason they stared daggers at you was the man that kept by your side no matter where you went.

Virginia and Anthony welcomed you at the buffet with sun-stained sincere smiles. After a short small talk, Anthony Stark informed you both that he had signed the contract earlier today, thus officially giving Anvil an exclusive security deal with Stark Industries. As of now, Anvil was the only company allowed on the Stark Industries’ premises in the quality of guards and protection officers.

The look Billy and you exchanged spoke volumes; while your eyes were sparkling with excitement though, screaming “we did it!!”, his bottomless black eyes were whispering “thanks to you”.

The four of you then shook hands and went through rounds of gratitude and appreciation; when a pleasant woman’s voice announced the imminent start of Onegin, inviting the guests to go to their seats. Virginia immediately took you hand, leading you straight into the Opera house, saying something about leaving men to finish their drinks. You threw Billy a laughing look over your shoulder, mouthing “come join me” before disappearing out of his sight.

“So on the scale of one to ten, how pissed at me are you, Mr. Russo?”

Billy turned his head sharply to a side, leaning on the high table, and spotted Anthony Stark himself, nursing a glass of whiskey. “For taking your queen away from you? Excuse the chess metaphor, but that woman”, Stark took a sip of his whiskey and savoured it before swallowing it down. “Is a goddamn queen.”

Billy chuckled, straightening up, digging his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“That, she is,” he whispered, his eyes still piercing the spot in the crowd where your smiling face was mere minutes ago.

—

When the opera ended, both Billy and you couldn’t be more relieved - because both of you hated it with passion.

Exchanging meaningful glances in the dark during the singers’ performances now and then, you had to bite your tongue in order to not just ask Billy if you could maybe sneak out. Russo proved to be more stoic than you, carefully covering your hand with his in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You didn’t look at him once after that, afraid to say or do something that would make him remove his hand.

How much more pathetic could you get?

When the performance was over, Billy led you out of the opera house without saying a word, his hand hugging carefully the small of your back.

His silence was unnerving. You didn’t know what to make of it. Should you have shaken his hand off back in the darkness of the concert hall? Or should you have caressed it with your thumb?

Your mind was spinning in circles by the time he opened the door for you and you slid into the front passenger seat of his Rolls goddamn Royce.

When he got in the car and gripped his steering wheel, you reached out and placed your hand on his whitening knuckles.

“Billy,” you spoke softly, barely audibly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, turning his head to a side to face you. His black eyes stared into yours, looking hypnotised and helpless. “Everything is fine.”

It didn’t take a degree in Psychology to see that he was lying. You could feel his gaze on you as you turned away from him, taking your hand away at the same time.

Billy started the car. The revving engine filled the silence, loaded with the unsaid words.

—

“…he then walked me to my door, we exchanged our goodbyes. And that was it,” you finished lightly, looking back at Karen.

Her eyes were red as she stared at you, unblinking.

“Unbelievable…” she whispered. “So you never told him?…” her lips barely moved.

You sighed.

“Have you ever felt like you’re potentially in love with someone? Like, you don’t actually love him, you know you don’t, but one day you realise that you could? You realise just how easy it would be for you to fall in love with him? With all the teasing and the banter, the play hitting each other, calling each other names, just…. You start to pick up on little things - like if you listen closely, in every shut up, there’s a barely-there ring of I could love you.”  You shifted on the floor a little, and Karen watched your memories transport you somewhere else again. While physically your were here, in your apartment - with your fluttering eye-lashes, uneven breathing and loaded expression - mentally, you were somewhere else.

“….You probably don’t notice it at first, but your body is drawn to him. Every accidental or absentminded touch…” you continued quietly. “And there’s that twinkle in his eyes when he looks at you and it messes you up, because - what’s going on with you? What the hell does it even mean? Are you imagining shit? You’re trying to make sense.”  

Karen didn’t interrupt, still staring at you as if she were seeing you for the first time

“I mean, he didn’t ask for any of it, you know?” you finally raised your foggy stare at Karen, as if searching for confirmation. “Maybe he just did something dumb one day, smiled at you or said something that seemed important and then all of the sudden you’re full on Looney Tunes, seeing stuff that isn’t there?”

Your words barely audible, you swallowed hard, before continuing.  “…I just kept looking at him with what ifs, and could haves, seeing all that goddamn potential. It’s so fucking twisted. Over-analyzing everything? Waiting for a sign?…” you chuckled bitterly all of the sudden. “…I was so fucking scared of reading too much into it, of crossing that line, because… It would be so easy!… Falling in love with him would have been so easy.”

Oh sweetheart, Karen’s eyes glowed with comfort as she reached out for your hand and squeezed it softly. But you already are in love with him.   

A loaded silence ripped through the air in your living room. The sound of an engine revving somewhere close squeezed its way through the slit of an opened window, and it seemed to break the trance.

Both Karen and you shuddered, and as you took in the realisation Karen’s eyes just bestowed upon you, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“It’s pretty late,” Karen spoke up, reading you like an open book. She knew it was her cue to leave the stage. You needed time to process. “Frank is in a bar nearby with Curtis, let me just give him a call, okay, sweetheart?” she gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You know where to find me when you need me”.

“Yes”, you responded, blinking tiredly. “Thank you so much for coming, Karen. I didn’t mean to unload on you like that…”

“Shut the hell up,” the blonde advised, raising her eyebrows. “But honestly, Y/N, please call me once you… come to terms with things, okay?”

You nodded.

When Karen left, leaving the sweet and pleasant smell of her perfume behind, you closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning on the cold wood and metal with your eyes closed.

It’s been a month. This was supposed to pass by now. Billy was supposed to stop inviting himself into your dreams. You were supposed to heal.

You may have just realized you were in love with the man instead.

Letting out half a moan, half a groan, you peeled yourself from the door slowly, and brushed your hair back, wanting nothing more than to fall face-first into bed.

After you at least cleaned up a bit and put out the Dyptique candles, that is.

As your eyes scanned your living room in an attempt to asses the size of the job at hand, you stopped mid-way, zeroing in on the box Jax gave you earlier in the evening. It rested silently on the kitchen table.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you made your way to the kitchen area. Grabbing the package, you turned it around, looking for any indication of the sender.

The package wasn’t even stamped.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you took a moment to grab a knife from one of the drawers, and carefully swished it between the two cardboard sheets.

Flipping over the envelop, you heard something fall out of it before you could actually see it. A small sheet of paper floated in the air before falling on the surface, partially covering whatever fell out of the package.

Your heart squeezed the second your brain identified the object, attached to a worn silver chain.

With trembling fingers, you slid two metal pieces from under the paper, covering your mouth.

Finding their home in the palm of your hand, Billy’s dog tags shimmered in the dim candlelight.

Squeezing them in between your fingers, you grabbed the paper with your free hand, your eyes staring at one single sentence scribbled on its surface.

“You took my heart with you”.

#billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo angst #billy russo fanfic #billy russo story #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #the punisher story #billy russo request

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writingwithadinosaur · 4 years

Text

“Under the Knife - Part 8

“Under the Knife” - Part 8

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Violence,

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude @ntlmundy @a-person-unlabled

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the first day in awhile that you didn’t feel any intense pressure weighing down on your shoulders. You walked into your office, prepared to have another day of trying to figure out the puzzle that was the Virginia Scalpel. But as soon as you shut the door, you realized that you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was a strange relief that you hadn’t ever felt.

Although Jack’s tactical team still hadn’t caught Henry Urik yet and you were unsettled by him still being out there, you weren’t as scared as before. The killer that had been teasing you and that had named you one of his next victims now had a name.

Jack’s team had all of the information that you and Hannibal could give them. You also had an armed agent watching over you and Hannibal until Henry was caught.

All you had to worry about at the moment was your 1 o’clock lecture on the “stereotypes of gender roles and how they can affect the psyche of an individual,” and then you could take a half day and go take a nap at home. Well, that and your dinner with Hannibal tonight. But even then, you weren’t as worried about that as you were about Henry still being out there.

Your lecture went by quickly, even the students seemed to understand everything rather easily. Only a couple asked a few questions for clarification after your presentation. Even with those students stopping you, you got out a bit earlier than anticipated. Looking at your watch, you realized that Will was going to be leading a lecture soon.

I should probably talk to him. And I do really miss those dogs.

After stopping by your office to grab your bag and close up, you weaved through the familiar hallways to the nearest coffee machine, getting two cups, making one how you like and one for Will. With both cups securely in your hands, you found the lecture hall he was assigned to today. You softly walked in, seeing your brother completely entranced in something on his laptop. Before you made it all the way into the room, you cleared your throat in effort to grab his attention. It worked. As soon as he located where the noise was coming from and saw you, he stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk.

“(Y/N)! Hey! Wh-what uh… What’s up?” You knew he was trying to not seem nervous, but you could see through him. You took a few steps closer and offered him the coffee cup, not seeing the probably empty one already on his desk. You tried to make your voice as comforting as you could.

“I was passing by and decided to stop by to ask you something.”

“Is everything okay?” Will was hesitant but took the coffee, looking all over you for any sort of tells as to what is going on.

“As okay as they can be.” You shrugged, not feeling anything in particular, which only added to Will’s worry and confusion.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?”

You pause, seeing the visible uncomfortableness and growing fear in Will’s features. You quickly try to find a way to calm him down while getting to the point of why you’re here.

“Do you think the dogs would mind their favorite aunt stopping by for a drink tonight?” You couldn’t help the small smile that crept across your face as a slightly bigger one formed on Will’s. You could hear the extra air he let out in his chuckle, an obvious sigh of relief.

“I think they would really like that.” His smile faltered a tad as he looked down to his hands. He spoke quieter, as if unsure how you would react. “I would really like that.”

As he looked back towards your face to see your reaction, you met him with a sincere and reassuring smile.

“Good. Me too.” Another huff of relief from Will. “I have dinner plans with Hannibal tonight. But I was hoping I could just drive over afterwards for a nightcap?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll have the good stuff ready and waiting for you.” Will took a breath in, trying his best to be careful with his words. “And, if that nightcap ends up turning into a few, you could crash at my place.”

Again, Will looked as if you were a powder keg about to explode if the wrong button was hit. You just closed the gap between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his torso, his finding their place around you.

Your brother was not fond of physical affection from a majority of people. But you were one of the very few that he not only tolerated, but sometimes felt a need for.

“I’ll pack an overnight bag just in case.” You pulled away and tapped your hand on his upper arm. “For now, I am going to go home and take a nap.

“Jack’s letting you go home early?” Will was genuinely surprised. Jack was never one for early dismissals.

“Well, considering I did finally find out the Virginia Scalpel’s real name last night and got all my work with that wrapped up, I think Crawford is a bit more lenient on what I do today.” You casually mention as you shrug.

“You did what?!” Will’s expression was one of shock and pride. A handful of students filed in behind you. A playful grin graced your face as you tapped his arm one more time before taking a couple of steps backwards.

“I’ll tell you all about it later tonight. I need to get ready for this assuredly anxiety-inducing dinner and you have a lecture to get through.” Will gave you a slightly annoyed look as you winked and walked away, talking over your shoulder. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

You couldn’t see it, but Will just shook his head and let his smile linger a bit longer before turning his attention towards his class. As much as he worried about you during this case, he was very proud of his little sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got back to your apartment, you tried to take a nap. Key word: tried. Your brain would not calm down enough for you to fall asleep for even a quick cat nap. The coffee that you got before meeting with Will probably didn’t help.

After tossing and turning for 30 minutes, you gave up and decided to make some tea and get some cleaning done around your place. You hadn’t been able to do laundry thanks to the case, so you finally started to chisel away at that pile.

Once you had put the last load in the dryer, you looked at the clock and saw that it was 5 o’clock. You had an hour before you were supposed to be at Hannibal’s. Might as well take my time and get ready.

After fussing with finding a comfortable but semi-formal outfit to match Hannibal’s aesthetic, you quickly packed a backpack with some overnight things. You were sure you’d end up talking to Will for longer than you both intend, meaning you’d either be too tipsy or too tired to drive home safely.

With the last of your laundry out of the machine and plopped onto your bed for you to put away later, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Preparing for anything to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As per usual, you pulled up to Hannibal’s five minutes early thanks to taking some backroads. You put the car in park and took the keys from the ignition, but you didn’t move. There was a tightening feeling in your chest. You tried to close your eyes for a moment and take some deep breaths.

Dinner won’t be bad. Hannibal is a trained psychologist. If anyone is going to be able to guide the conversation into a calmer place, it's gonna be him. Plus you know damn well that you miss spending time with him that isn’t plagued by confusion or the fuckin Virginia Scalpel. You two are adults. You can talk about literally anything and be okay.

So why am I still anxious?

Because you had your eyes closed, you didn’t see Hannibal approach your car. So when he opened your door, you instinctually jumped back and gasped.

“My apologies, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?”

“No. It's fine. I’m fine. I was just taking a breather.” Hannibal nodded, sensing that you didn’t want to expand on this further. So instead he held out his hand.

“Shall we then? I have some salmon in the oven that is awaiting your judgment.” He let one of those small side smiles of his grace his face in an attempt to comfort you as you reached for his hand and he helped you out of your car, shutting the door behind you once you got your purse.

Unlike usual, Hannibal led you to the dining room as opposed to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for you. After you settled in, he poured you a cup of water and a glass of wine as he spoke.

“Everything is prepared, I just need to take the salmon out. I won’t be long.” You just thanked him and nodded as you took a sip of water.

Within a couple of minutes, Hannibal was walking in with two plates that looked just as artistic and beautiful as he normally presents. The main part was a rather large piece of salmon with thin lemon slices laid across the top, paired with a mix of halved grape tomatoes, white asparagus, and the same twirly romanesco broccoli that you had tried the last time you had dinner with Hannibal.

“This looks wonderful, Hannibal. Thank you.” You said as he sat down. The two of you started to eat, both of you trying to figure out how best to start the conversation that you knew was coming. Hannibal was the first to speak up.

“Are you planning on going somewhere?" You were caught off guard, not expecting this to be the starting point of your talk with him.

"What makes you say that?"

"I couldn’t help but notice the slightly overstuffed bag in your passenger seat. I assume it's for staying the night somewhere other than your own apartment. And while you’re always welcomed to stay here if you wanted, I don’t think you would without asking me first."

“Then you would be right. I wouldn’t impose on you like that.” You went to take a sip of your wine as you looked at Hannibal. He gave you a look that said that he knew there was more that you needed to share. “I talked to Will briefly today and we made plans for tonight. We are finally going to talk this all out. The bag is for in case I end up getting too tired and sleep on his couch."

Hannibal gave a slight nod before cutting off a piece of salmon and continuing the conversation.

“I'm sure Will is happy to finally have a moment to talk with you and share his side of the story."

“I'm sure he is.” You took a sip of your wine, bracing yourself for the unavoidable topic. “How about you, Hannibal?” Hannibal looked towards you and raised a curious brow. “What's your side of the story?”

Hannibal took a sip of water before turning his body slightly more towards you, giving you his full attention as he finally spoke on what he had been thinking about saying for days now.

“Will came to me rather distraught after you had said that you were going to accept Jack’s offer. It was my idea to insert myself into Crawford’s team as background support. And while my original intention for joining the Scalpel case was to ease Will’s mind, I couldn’t ignore my own reasons.” Hannibal reached a hand out and grabbed yours, you felt your cheeks warm at the unexpected contact. He was so gentle with you as he spoke sincerely.

“After seeing Will crack again and again under Crawford’s intense force on the handful of cases that they worked on, I was worried you would also be damaged under his leadership. I cannot deny that I do truly care about you and your wellbeing. And with this being your first time handling a major active case, I wanted to be there in case something were to happen to you.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Hannibal had not only told you that it wasn’t Will’s idea to have him follow you, but he admitted that he cared about you. The trouble was that you couldn’t tell if it was the type of caring that you had secretly longed for with a more romantic relationship with Hannibal or if it was similar to how your brother cares about you. You wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t fit together and be coherent enough for you to vocalize.

While you struggled to figure out how to respond, Hannibal lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your hand softly before putting it down and reaching for his glass of wine, raising it in your direction.

“Here’s to you and your impressive mind. Without you, who knows how long it would have taken to find out the true identity of the infamous Virginia Scalpel.” You raise your glass and gently tap his, finally able to form a coherent thought again.

“I’m sure Crawford would have just asked for your help or maybe even Will’s if I hadn’t said yes. I got lucky with this one.” You took a sip of your wine, savoring the sweetness of it as you started to slice the fish on your plate. “Honestly, I don’t think I would have figured it out without you inadvertently helping me.”

“How so?” Hannibal questioned before taking a bite of salmon.

“When you came to check on me after the lab meeting, I went on to say something about being your friend and colleague but not your patient. And that’s when it hit me that we weren’t looking in the right demographic.”

There was a moment of silence as Hannibal thought about where to go from this information.

“And how do you feel now?” You finished the bite of food that you had and looked at your water cup, not wanting Hannibal to see into your eyes even though he was already watching you rather intensely. Trying to read all of the nonverbal indications you were giving.

“I feel okay. Well, as okay as I can be. That insane pressure of figuring out who the hell Henry Urik is was bigger than anything I’ve had to deal with since I started working with the FBI. But there is still the fact that Jack’s team still hasn't found him that has been really messing with me. That and the anxiety of finally having this talk with you and my brother.”

“I hope that some of that anxiety has worn away now that we have resolved things between us?”

“Some. But I can’t help but be worried until everything is settled.”

“You now know that protecting you was my intention when I joined the Scalpel case. I don’t intend for that promise to end with this case being closed.” Hannibal’s hand casually found yours again, making you focus even more on what he was saying (if it was even possible to focus more.)

“I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you feel safe and taken care of.”

His warm hand was instantly comforting and you hadn’t realized how much you craved physical affection from him, even in the smallest forms. Your heart swelled at his vow.

Before you could fully process what he had said, the click of a gun being armed and a very different voice demanded your attention from the other side of the room. A man with messy red-brown hair cocked and aimed a pistol right at you.

“I don’t know if you wanna make that promise so soon, doc.”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fandom #hannibal lecter / reader #will graham x reader #will graham #will graham / reader #will graham x sister!reader #Will Graham x Sibling!Reader #Sibling!Will Graham #Sibling!Will Graham x Reader

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theradioghost · 5 years

Note

So I’ve realized recently that I actually really really like podcasts when my audio processing isn’t acting up (thanks tma!) and was wondering what recs you have for completed podcasts. I’m cool with basically any genre and theme, though I would appreciate a warning for tragedy. Thanks for your time!

Of course! I’ll put this one under a cut just so the length is a bit less ridiculous.

Some of my favorite completed shows are

Wolf 359 – a scifi comedy about four squabbling coworkers on a malfunctioning, isolated space station which then takes a hard right into a spectacular, heartwrenching drama. Not a tragedy, but many tears are shed when listening. Probably one of the best podcasts out there tbqh.

Ars Paradoxica – a modern physicist accidentally invents time travel, landing her back at the start of the Cold War and changing the course of history forever. The creators literally described it as “a tragedy” and they weren’t lying, although the finale is sort of hopefully bittersweet.

The Hidden Almanac – a grouchy professor in a plague doctor mask offers bite-sized pieces of history and hagiography from his fantastical world as well as gardening advice, occasionally interrupted and/or dragged off on unwilling shenanigans by his tequila-loving accidental necromancer best friend coworker. Fantasy writer/artist Ursula Vernon and her husband put this 4-minute show out three times a week for SEVEN YEARS, and it’s funny and cozy and poetic and can be found in full here, as there are too many episodes for most podcatchers to display.

Alice Isn’t Dead – lesbian Americana road-trip horror. A cross-country trucker searches for her missing wife while monsters and conspiracies pursue her across the vast empty and abandoned spaces of America. Actually also exists in novel form.

The Bright Sessions – records from the office of Dr. Bright, a therapist who specializes in people with strange and secret abilities. However, her patients aren’t the only ones with secrets. Personally this show never completely absorbed me like some others did, but the character writing is genuinely amazing. The story obviously also deals a lot with mental illness and some other difficult topics and content.

Our Fair City – the eight-season saga of the inhabitants of a post-apocalyptic underground city ruled over by the remnants of an insurance company, featuring mole people, lightning-harvesting sky sailors, giant ants, and a found family of mad scientists among others. Part comedy, part drama, all anticapitalist satire. You kind of have to give it a couple of seasons to find its stride (this was one of the very first shows in the podcast-based audio drama revival) but it is absolutely worth it. Disclaimer that while I am on the final season of the show I have not quite finished it yet.

Jarnsaxa Rising – a unique scifi-fantasy hybrid, in which a vengeful Norse giantess escapes imprisonment with the goal of destroying the gods and bringing about Ragnarok, only to find herself in a post-climate-change dystopian future.

Glasgow Ghost Stories – a Scottish woman begins noticing the many ghosts inhabiting the streets of her city; but the ghosts have begun to notice her too, and not all of them are friendly. Pigeons are involved.

Big Data – an odd little heist comedy about a rogue journalist investigating a spectacular crime in which the “seven keys to the internet” are stolen, leading to a story about hacking in which no actual hacking is involved. There are two fun side notes to it: one, everything that happens in it could technically happen in real life. Two, it involves an absurd amount of cameos from other well-known podcasts (and also Taika Waititi?), which you don’t need to get to follow the story but which make it kind of hilarious on a whole other level when you listen to those shows.

I Am In Eskew – a surreal, intense, disturbingly poetic horror about a man trapped in a shifting, malevolent, impossible city, and a woman on the outside trying to find him. Extremely good but I do recommend thoroughly checking the trigger warnings on this one. (Surprisingly non-tragic finale, although not a typical “happy ending.”)

The Alexandria Archives – half comedy and half horror, in the form of a late-night radio show at Alexandria University, on the edge of North Carolina’s Great Dismal Swamp. Half of each episode is a standalone cosmic horror story set in and around the town of Alexandria. The other half features the antics of the university’s students, including the host MW and her friends who are definitely Canadian exchange students, and not a vampire hiding from his ex and a bunch of stranded space pirates. (A little goofy? Yes, but I love it a ton for all its faults anyway. Also, some of the short stories are genuinely terrifying.)

and also, some completed miniseries!!

The Tower – a gorgeous experimental audio drama in which a young woman decides to climb the mysterious Tower, from which no one ever returns.

Time:Bombs – a comedy by the folks who made Wolf 359 about a bomb disposal squad on New Year’s Eve, trying to survive their leader’s obsession with breaking a record.

They Say a Lot of Things – upon discovering that she can interact with a dropped tape recorder, the ghost of a young girl tells her story, interwoven with the stories of those who have passed through the abandoned house that she cannot leave over the years that she’s haunted it.

Podcaster A. R. Olivieri specializes in microfiction miniseries, ranging from scifi to experimental to fantasy. (Side note, a lot of his work crosses over with the still-running scifi podcast Girl In Space, but you don’t need to have listened to GIS to understand what’s going on in his shows.)

Nym’s Nebulous Notions – a self-declared investigative journalist decides to check out a mysterious SOS signal and finds herself on a mysteriously abandoned ship – or so she thinks. Arguably a tragedy, although not necessarily in the way you might think.

Palimpsest – technically not finished, but each season of this anthology makes up a complete 10-part story, and seasons 1 and 2 are complete. Season 1 is a ghost story about a woman who is suspicious about strange happenings in her new home and her odd new neighbors. Season 2 is a turn-of-the-century dark urban fantasy about a girl who escapes her career criminal mother’s house, taking a job as the companion to what her new employer claims is an imprisoned faerie princess. (Season 3 is ongoing and is about a codebreaker who begins seeing ghosts on London’s streets during the Blitz.) It’s a heartbreaking sort of show, albeit in a very beautiful and moving way.

The Details is a short piece about an office worker who goes in to negotiate for a promotion and finds himself negotiating with the devil himself instead. The number of genuinely surprising and excellent twists it packs into just 45 minutes is really fun.

The London Necropolis Railway – a really underappreciated little fantasy-mystery about a recently-dead detective who refuses to board the train scheduled to take her to the afterlife until one of its hapless employees helps her solve her supernatural murder.

Janus Descending – a scifi horror told in two intertwining perspectives, one in reverse order and one in chronological order, about two scientists who land on a remote planet to investigate the ruins of its lost civilization, only to encounter the thing that killed the former inhabitants. A fantastic story told in a really clever and unique way, but stamp a big old tragedy warning all OVER this one, although because of the structure you technically know how it’s going to end right from the start – what makes this show so good is how you get there. It will make you cry, though.

… and also my show, Midnight Radio, which is about lesbian romance, small towns, old radio shows, the good and bad sides of nostalgia, and ghost stories.

#Anonymous #asks #my posts #podcast recs #bobbie recommends things

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gotboredwrote · 5 years

Text

The Lily of Death Valley // ES!JFM

Pairing: Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5K Style: One-Shot Warnings: Fatal injuries, wartime discussions, angst, language, cat-calling/unwanted sexual advancements (nothing explicit but some general talk), fluff at the end (because remember, I can’t end a story sadly) Summary: World War Two. A terrible time for all. Bloody. Not the most obvious time to make friends, but it happened anyway, at least for Leckie and Sledge’s crews. They’d also befriended you, begrudgingly at first, and who’s to say the battlefield is not the most obvious place to find love, either? Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: Couple things to be mentioned up front: 1. Yes, I am completely aware that women were not allowed to enlist back during WWII, and 2. Yes, I am also completely aware that Eugene and Leckie’s crews did not serve together in real life or the show, but for the sake of this fic, imagine that. Also, special thanks to Lena for helping me hash out a title for this for like 15 minutes lol.

Masterlist

It never got easier. That part was simple to admit. But you never lost hope that maybe one day it would, or better yet, you would get to go home. Based on how things were progressing, though, you could not see that day coming anytime soon. You always remained hopeful, though. Hopeful that one day men would stop treating you like you were worthless, or just a sex object. Hopeful that eventually you would get to be part of a squad that appreciated both your strengths and your weaknesses in stride, knowing that your weaknesses do not define you and your strengths make you a better person.

You were hopeful that he would not die that day, like so many people did not hours before. You were hopeful you could save him from that damn hidden grenade. You were hopeful that you would never have to talk about the most heart wrenching day of your life thus far to anyone ever again.

All of those things happened.

[4 months ago.]

All you could hear was the wind moving the foliage around you. No one was moving, not an inch. They knew better. You lot had been fighting this war for almost 5 months at this point, and this specific stand-off was heading on to hour 7. It was tireless and relentless work, but it had to be done, for the safety of your country.

You and about 6 other men, one of which was your twin brother, were plastered up against a makeshift mud wall with rifles lined up in front of you. Ready to fire when needed. You had been like this for a while, listening to the occasional distant gunfire from another location and some various screaming, too. Some of the new recruits were sick to their stomachs from it, but not you. Everything that had happened had made you numb. All you thought about, and all you allowed yourself to think about until the moment you set foot in your home again, was war. Killing Japs. It was your sole purpose on this hellhole.

“I’m going to get us some water, anyone need anything?”

Your brother was the one who spoke, barely audible, but you all had trained to hear someone speaking that quietly. You had to, otherwise your positions would be given away. The 6 of you that were still leaning against the mud gently shook your heads, hearing your brother inch backwards on the ground. He was not allowed to stand, either, because he would be extremely obvious amongst all the trees.

It stayed silent for a few more moments, but once your brother had moved back about 10 feet from his original location, everyone in the area heard it. That distinct hissing sound that could only come from one thing. A grenade. None of you had moved, so none of you could have set it off. There were also no signs of Japs around. By process of elimination, you all knew who had triggered it. Your brother.

Everything happened quickly. First, there was the instant whiplash created in all of your necks as you whipped your heads back in the direction of the sound, eyes all locking onto your brother, who was frozen in fear and had a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face. Then, you all scrambled to removed yourselves from where you were seated to get as far away from the blast as possible, but your brother did not do the same.

Next came the explosion.

Shrapnel everywhere, screaming all around you, ringing in your ears and blood running from your neck and cheek. Instantly, your gun went to the ground, an instinct you did not know you had in you taking over. You went and took out as much debris as you could from the few men scattered around you, including the piece that had wedged itself in your neck. You made sure as many men on your squad as possible were fine, despite the shit they constantly gave you for simply being female. Then it hit you – you had not taken care of your brother, assuming there was anything left of him to take care of.

Frantically, you ran through the dust and smoke radiating around his body, dropping to the ground next to him, staring at the injuries he had sustained. If it were not for the gaping hole in his torso, he would have barely had a scratch on him. But you could see it – a literal hole on his lower left side, so bad to the point where his uniform had gone almost completely black with blood, and a small portion of his intestines were visible without close examination. Made you want to vomit. And scream. You held back on the prior, but not the latter. After letting the surface layer of your feelings out, you began your attempt to fix him. Trying your absolute best to do exactly what the small amount of medical training you had gotten had taught you, but in your haze, basically just attempted to restuff his abdomen with the parts it had lost. There was absolutely nothing you could do about the blood, and your guess was that he had lost over a gallon in that short time. He was going to bleed out, and there was nothing you could do.

“Y/N s-stop.”

“Harry, no, don’t. Don’t fucking tell me to stop. You’re bleed-bleeding out, and-and your guts, they’re-”

“It’s…too late, baby…sis.”

“It’s not, don’t say that to me. You’re gonna come home with me. I fixed those assholes, I can fix you! I only joined this damn army because I couldn’t bear being apart from you! We fought for this! Harold, please. Please!”

But you could feel his body already go cold.

“Harry?”

The sound of gunfire was piercing your ears as you spoke to the corpse of your brother.

“Harry… please…”

Your body slumped over. Heart completely wrenched from your body. You had lost a part of you. The part of you that helped you beat the system. The part of you that when it was gone you thought would surely take you with it.

Yet here you were. Sitting on a dirt floor, next to the corpse of your 1-minute-older twin who always insisted on calling you his baby sis, not caring if a bullet went through the back of your skull and through your brain. All you wanted was to see his smiling face again.

[Present day.]

Most people would think that after going through something like what you and your squad went through that day, you would all be discharged and sent home. The 5 men who survived had that happen. You? Not so much. The men had talked to your captain about how diligent you were in taking care of them after the explosion, and apparently done so well enough that your captain thought it would be a terrific idea to send you for more medical training. To hone in on the skills you clearly had rooted deep within you that had to be coaxed out. ‘For the better of the entire US Army,’ he had said once.

Bullshit.

You just wanted to go home. To rest. To not see any more blood for the rest of your days. It was enough. You had been through enough. Yet your captain did not think so.

You had completed about 3 months of new medical training, and was given your army doctor certification. You were given all the possible utilities you may need, including a personal staff to help you with amputations and other surgeries. You were also taken off of active-duty and were to simply travel around with whichever squad you were placed with, to take care of them and the people around them. Truth be told, it was not the worst gig within the army you could have gotten. It still pained you, though, knowing that Harry would no longer be around to see you help people.

Initially, your captain had bumped you from place to place, before getting the call that the men needed a permanent doctor on Seipan, as the old one had been, well, shot to death. So, you packed up your belongings once again and set a course for Seipan, where you were told you would basically be spending the rest of your time in the military. Whether that ended in death or coming home, you could not tell, but that was the deal.

Unbeknownst to you, the men were informed about your scheduled arrival, and the group of men you would be bunking with were given special instructions.

“Listen up. I know what you’re probably thinking. How the hell did a woman make her way into the army? That, is her business and her business alone. If she ever tells you on her own accord, fine, but if we hear about any of you hassling her in any way, there will be serious repercussions. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, sir.” All 6 of the men seated in the bunk responded at once.

“Question, sir,”

“What is it, Private Shelton?”

“How’s it that woman made it into the army? Who’d she have to get off?”

“What the hell did I just—”

“Sir.” A private none of the men in the bunk knew popped his head in, ceasing the light chuckles that were floating about the bunk. “Nurse Y/L/N is here.”

As if on cue, the curtain to the outside had been swung open and you, carrying your giant backpack and all belongings, entered the bunker. All the men in the tent, including your new captain, were staring at you.

“What? Y’all ain’t ever seen a woman before?”

Your new captain stood to address you as you tossed your bags onto what would become your new cot. You turned around to face him, knowing that despite how unhappy you were with the living arrangements, you were in no position to argue.

“Madam, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Captain Richard Johnson, and the 6 men you see behind me will be your new squad. I know you are no longer active duty, but in order for you to remain as a member of the army given your specific circumstances, you are required to still be a part of a squad, even though you will be attending to all injuries on all men.”

“Yes, sir. Now, may I have a moment to put my stuff away before one of these boys gets a papercut I have to kiss better?”

“As you wish. I’ll let them introduce themselves. Welcome to Seipei, Nurse.”

With that, Captain Johnson walked out from the tent, leaving you alone with the men behind you, all of which were just staring at the back of you as you started to put your stuff away. You were seriously hoping that you could postpone talking to them as long as possible. You knew what type of people they would be. All men treated you the same. Like an object. You were given no reason to think that any of these men were going to be any different. Your suspicions were confirmed when one of them began to speak to you.

“So. Young, gorgeous, smart enough to be a doctor, a sharp tongue, and a delightful southern accent to boot. Golly, what don’t you have going for you?”

Instantly your hands dropped what they were holding and fell to your sides. You had an immense amount of trouble believing that they were already treating you like this. Hell, you were not even sure they knew your first name yet. You spun around in the attempt to address whichever one had spoken to you directly, but you could not tell which one it was, so you addressed them all.

“What don’t I have going for me? The ability to put up with your bullshit. If you don’t mind, I would prefer it if you did not treat me like some kind of object for you to mess around with. That goes for all of you little shits. You’re new to this whole thing, I’ve been around the block with this whole ordeal for over 6 months now, so I know a thing or two that you don’t. But I’m also not the type of person who likes to start relationships off on a bad foot. So, let’s start over, shall we?”

The 6 men were all looking at you intently, some of them with smirks on their faces, some of them clearly believing in the intensity you presented yourself with.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, former PFC, active nurse. Maybe one day, if y’all can learn to be gentlemen, I’ll tell you my story. But it’s earned, and hardly anyone has earned the right to know it. You’re turns.”

Each of the men rattled off their names and titles. The one who had spoken to you earlier was PFC Robert Leckie. Also part of your squad was PFC Eugene ‘Sledgehammer’ Sledge, PFC Sidney Phillips, PFC Lew ‘Chuckler’ Juergens, PFC Merriell ‘Snafu’ Shelton, the one who had made the rude comment you had not heard, and PFC Wilbur ‘Runner’ Conley. You had given them the nod of approval at their good behavior before continuing.

“Like I said before, I’m an active nurse now. Meaning, if you ever have a problem with anything, you need to come find me. I may have a tough outer shell, but if you seriously need me, trust me, I won’t be an ass about it. Maybe once you’re better I will be, but not in the moment. I know when to be an ass and when not to be. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I want to lay down. Assuming none of you have any pressing issues at the moment and no one comes bursting through the door with a limb barely attached, I’m going to do just that.”

“Well, there is one thing.”

“What is it, Snafu?”

“My dick is unusually soft considering I’m in the presence of a woman, do you know why that might be?”

You threw the first metal thing you could find, which happened to be a metal comb, directly at his head before covering your body with a blanket and facing opposite to them. You heard them laughing a little bit, and you could not help the tears that welled up behind your eyes. You tried to be hopeful again that these boys would be different. You were beginning to give up on the prospect of hope.

Little did your roommates/squad members know, but despite the tough demeanor you presented yourself with, you had always had a soft heart. The tears that had welled up eventually fell, but you drifted off to sleep not long after. How they had treated you did hurt, but you had put up with it for so long from so many people that you knew how to act like it did not. You had a shell, a tough one, and it took quite a bit to break it.

When you woke up the next day, all your squad members had already left for the morning, leaving you in peace. Truly at peace, considering no one had rushed in needing your assistance yet. You had decided to pull out the book you had been reading for the last few weeks and lay back on your bed, prepared in case anyone needed help.

Then you saw the curtains pull back carefully and cautiously, revealing one of the members of your squad.

“Mobile.”

You looked up at Eugene, confused as to why he brought up the name of your hometown out of nowhere.

“What?”

“Mobile, Alabama. Your accent, madam. Is that where you’re from, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Y-yeah, actually. How’d you guess?”

“I live on Serenity Drive, off the center of town. I’d recognize the sound of home anywhere, especially after being in a place like this.”

“…Juniper Street.”

“We’re practically neighbors, then! What a small world this is, Miss Y/L/N. Please, don’t let me keep you from reading.”

Eugene went over to his cot to grab something before making his way back to the entrance. You were so in shock at how much different this boy was from the rest of his squad, you could not believe they all got along so well. Your mind could not help but wonder what his real reaction to what had been said to you last night was.

“Y/N.”

“Wh-what?” Eugene spun around in the entryway, not expecting you to willingly talk to him after being associated with the idiots he was with last night.

“Y/N. That’s my name, remember? For you, it’s just Y/N.”

Eugene gave you a bashful smile, which you returned. It was your way of showing him that you truly had a soft side, like the one he had just shown you. You just hoped he understood.

Later that same day, you had helped out with a few injuries people had that needed to be rewrapped or bandages needed changing. You even got to take out a few happy men’s stitches, scolding most of them for letting them rip. You had been working on someone’s bandages in a tent maybe 100 feet from where your bunk was when Chuckler walked in. He was the only other one who had not laughed at Snafu’s joke the night before, you eventually found out. Except you did not quite feel you could show him your soft side just yet. Something about Eugene brought it out of you, and you could not quite explain why.

“Chuckler? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Leckie, the asshole. He’s been having a problem that’s clearly affecting his mental state but refuses to come to you about it.”

“What is the problem, exactly? Because I have a lot of people to get to today and—”

“He refuses to leave his bed and we need him to help with drills and in weaponry. He’s being a nuisance.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Chuckler.”

“Just come with me when you’re done with him, please. None of us can take his bitching and moaning anymore.”

“Fine, give me 5 minutes. Wait there.

After you had finished changing the man’s bandages, you stood up and cleaned up all your equipment, and followed Chuckler from the tent. You had made it to your own and saw that Snafu, Eugene, Runner, and Sidney were all talking amongst themselves in front of where Leckie was laying. All their heads turned in your general direction when you walked in, and you were completely mentally prepared to put up your shell, even with Eugene in the room. Except the way they were all looking at you told you that it was not the time. They seemed extremely concerned for their friend. You looked at Chuckler, and he now had the same expression on his face. So, you felt as though that was your cue to walk over and see what you could do.

When you started to move over to Leckie, the four boys cleared out the space to let you in. You gently placed your bag down to the floor and kneeled down next to Leckie’s cot. You knew he could hear you, but was clearly ignoring you. You felt as if there was only one thing you could do in order to get his attention. As much as it made you nervous, you felt a stronger sensation for the need to help than the need to be an ass right about now. He looked tense from the back. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbed lightly, trying to coax him.

“Leckie?”

No response.

“Leckie, I want to help you, hon. Could you roll over and face me?”

You felt him shift a little bit. You were getting somewhere.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, honey. I promise I’ve heard worse. You really don’t have a reason to be embarrassed.”

You could feel him let out a sigh, whether it was one of embarrassment or one signaling he caved was up in the air, but then his body shifted. You had won, and he rolled over to face you. First you noticed how red his eyes were, and how puffy his cheeks had become. He had clearly been crying, probably while you had been speaking to him. It broke your heart a little bit. A tough soldier, so broken down over something that more than likely is not his fault. Made you wonder what would happen to the men who made it home.

Then you saw his problem. What the boys were all concerned about. His pants had become a darker shade of green all down the front.

“Oh, honey… how long has this been goin’ on?”

“Few days. Maybe… maybe a week.”

“I think I know exactly what this is. Assuming you aren’t in any pain, that is. Does this happen frequently? And when it does, is there pain involved?”

“No pain, but usually once, sometimes twice a day.” He was talking so quietly. You could easily tell why he did not want to tell you. It was not pain or fear of loss of masculinity, since apparently everyone else knew but you.

It was because all of them respected you and they did not want to seem like they could not take care of themselves.

“Well, the good news is that it is probably exactly what I’m thinking it is. People who undergo extreme stress and traumas can develop issues with their pelvic floors without knowing it, except when their bladder decides to completely empty itself without any warning to you. You just need a little bit of rest and I’ll need to teach you how to do some pelvic floor exercises to bring it back up to strength. If that doesn’t seem to work, I can have the proper paperwork drawn up to send you over to a rehab facility on an American territory nearby. We’ll get you fixed up, pumpkin, I promise, okay?”

Leckie just nods his head and sniffled gently. You place a hand on his cheek to help steady his breathing before grabbing something out of your bag. Something you think will help him. You also write up everything you said on a prescription sheet so he can remember everything you told him, plus wrote down the basics for the therapies he will be starting.

The five boys had watched the entire scene unfold with you and Leckie. Clearly, despite the impression you first gave them, you really did care about them, and was willing to put aside their buffoonery and idiocracy for the sake of their health. What was an army without its men, anyway? An unspoken promise was made through the looks they gave each other, one that said they would no longer be assholes to you. Clearly, you did not deserve that. Not after how nice you had been to all of them despite what they said to you. How they laughed at you.

Plus, it had been burning in the back of their minds that you had a story they could earn, and that spoke numbers to them about what kind of life you had before them, that it probably was not good, and interesting to boot.

They wanted to ensure that the bad half of your story ended with them and the good part started with them, too.

A few more days had gone by since you had treated Leckie, and the techniques you had been teaching him were working. He had not had an accident in almost three days. You were really proud of him for doing what he needed to do, and clearly, he was thankful for you. He practically waited on you hand and foot. The other boys were doing the same. You honestly were not really sure what had changed, but you were not complaining. You were finally working with men who did not treat you horribly. It was a nice change of pace, and one that you were not about to jeopardize.

Other things you had done included helping the boys out with small injuries they received through various things, and you even helped them out in weaponry once since you knew about it, having been a soldier yourself.

After a particularly grueling day, you had all returned back to the bunk for the night, and you had just crawled in to bed. You were about to turn off your oil lamp when you realized all of them had been staring at you. But in the low light, it was hard to read their expressions.

“What?”

They all looked at Eugene, who they had apparently selected as the best person to ask you the question they so desperately wanted to know the answer to.

“Y/N, we were… just wondering… have we earned the rights… to your story yet? You know about us. We’d love to know about you.”

You took in a deep breath, shakily exhaling it, internally debating if these 6 boys were worth the trouble. Clearly, Eugene was. There was no debating on that. Chuckler was also nice, considering, and Leckie had shown his appreciation for you after helping him. The other three had gotten significantly nicer, too. And they had never seemed like the type of people to abuse the knowledge, anyway.

You started with the catcalling. Something you were prepared for in some degree, but not for how much of it you really got. It had never happened back home, people in Mobile were extremely nice. You knew that things would be different in the army because these men had been starved of their natural preferences and instincts the moment they arrived at boot camp. You told yourself you could ignore it, and for the most part, you did. It was always just out-there, lewd comments you knew had no foundation or real threat behind them.

Except for the one night that it did. There was one night, about a month before your brother had died. You had been given your own bunk, despite the wishes of your old captain, and there was a night where you and almost every squad were on patrol for nearly 16 hours straight, with almost nothing to show for it. Sitting still, feeling stiff, tired, hungry, and downright frustrated. You all eventually made it back to your bunks, and you decided not to shower. You just wanted to lay down on something that was not the rock-hard ground. Despite the fact that the cots were not the most comfortable, it sure as hell beat the soil. You did not know how long you had been laying there, but you were in and out of sleep, that stage right before you truly drift off. You were finally comfortable. So comfortable that you never heard the opening of the doorway to your bunk.

He had made no noise, having taken off his shoes, and kept his breathing as quiet as possible. You never even heard him start to take off his clothes. You only knew what was happening when you felt him press his front against your back. As soon as you felt him, you pushed him to the ground, screaming bloody murder. He crawled off of you, and tried to leave, but your brother had gotten to the doorway in time. Beat him to shit. Made sure you were okay. You were not, and your captain only made it worse by not transferring the guy away from you. You never went a day without waking up in the middle of night anymore out of pure fear.

You then told them how your brother was the only person who managed to keep you sane while you were still on active duty, but you only had that peace of mind for another month. Because you had to watch him die. You had to take another deep breath before talking about the story, because you were fighting back tears remembering how it felt to lose him. And then you told them how your old captain did not even give you the decency to leave and return later so you could go see his funeral.

“I… never even got to say goodbye. They buried by own fucking twin and I wasn’t there! I never got to tell him I loved him again! He was just gone! Fucking gone!” You had started weeping and screaming. You refused to talk about these events with hardly anyone, and now, it was like you could no longer hold back.

You pulled yourself together as best you could, wiping away the streaky tears adorning your face, and when you looked up, all 6 of them were looking at you with such sadness you thought they might start crying. Through some heavy breathing, you managed to allow a bit of your sass to come through.

“… are y’all happy with yourselves? You made a gal cry.” You had smiled a little bit, letting them know that you were going to be okay, despite how you currently looked.

They all remained silent, which made you concerned that you had said too much. You remained convinced of that until you saw Eugene move to stand up. Your smile faded as you watched him move over to your cot. When he reached you he simply stopped and kneeled to the ground. He let his head hang for a moment before looking up at you with glossy eyes. He did not speak right away.

“…what?”

“Lily.”

“I’m…sorry?”

“Yeah what are you going on about, Sledgehammer?” Snafu piped in for surprisingly the first time that night.

“Lily. Your new name is Lily.”

“Why, Gene?”

“Like…” He was caught off guard by the affectionate nickname. He had not thought he had earned something like that from you yet. “Like the lily of the valley flower. They grow in my front yard, back home in Mobile. It’s a beautiful and delicate flower, one that germinates and spreads its beauty wherever it is planted. But they aren’t what meets the eye. They’re actually extremely dangerous. You don’t want to mess around with them if you plan on keeping ‘em around. …just like you.”

You were taken aback. You knew the boy was quiet and sweet, but you never took him to be the smooth type. Even if that was not how he intended for it to come across. You felt your face flush, and began to get bashful. You dropped your head lightly, and you felt your face heat up even more when you heard the ‘damn straight’s’ coming from the other 5, completely in agreement with Eugene.

“…shut up, you fuckers. I could kill y’all in your sleep.”

“Just like the flower!”

You threw your pillow in their general direction, and you all broke out into laughter. You were in such a state of shock and disbelief at what was happening to you. You were beginning to believe in hope again. Then Runner spoke up.

“How about we push our cots together for the night? Lily, you can be in the middle. We can keep you safe from all the assholes that are littering this island.” (in this house we support the idea that guys can do this and not feel the need to crack a joke because fuck toxic masculinity)

“I’m great with that, s’long as Leckie keeps his problem under control.” Sidney chimed in, always ready with the jab.

The boys all goofed around with each other, while you just watched them with bemusement. You were completely unaware that Eugene was just staring at you. Awestruck. Dumbstruck.

Lovestruck.

Quite frankly, he was not sure when the feeling started feeling that way about you. Might have been when he first told you about being from Mobile. Could have been just now seeing you laugh and light up bright. Could have been from the first moment he laid eyes on you. It did not matter. All that mattered was that he got to spend his time on this hellhole with you, and he would not have changed it for the world.

He was brought back to reality when he felt you grab onto his arm so he could help you guys move the cots. Once they were all in place, they made you get in first and then decided what order they were going to lay in. Their main concern was not the men they laid next to, so much as who the two would be that got to lay next to you. You made it very apparent that you did not care about the other side, so long as Eugene was to one of them. He was standing at the head of your cot, unsure of what to do like the others, but he turned his head down to face you when he saw you lean your head backwards to look up at him, and you lightly grabbed the fabric of his pants. Eugene crawled into the cot next to yours, and you just looked at him with a tired smile. His heart swelled and started beating wildly.

Once everyone else had clamored into bed, Chuckler being the one to your other side, you all settled in for the night. Before anyone really tried to fall asleep, Eugene said something only loud enough for the 7 of you to hear.

“You know we’re gonna protect you, Lily. You know that, right?”

You looked at him in the dark, his face barely visible with hardly any moonlight entering the bunk. He was not looking at you, he was looking up at the ceiling, that much you could see. You reached up with one of your hands to pull his face to face yours.

“I know, Gene.”

A few more days and plenty of emergency surgeries and bandage changes later, you were starting to feel really burnt out. Plus, the boys had been away for those few days, so you had hardly anyone to talk to it about. Even Snafu and his ways would have been better than nothing. The boys did return earlier than expected, and when you got back from your most recent emergency surgery, you were more than thrilled to see them back in your bunk. But what made you the happiest was telling them to stay put so they could watch your equipment while you went and showered for the first time in a few days. That way, when you got back, they could block the entrance to your bunk so you could change peacefully. They made no objections, seeing that their few days were uneventful and you clearly needed the shower more than them, you looked like you had been to hell and back.

You took as minimal as possible over to the shower, which including not carrying your spare uniform. The thing weight more than it looked like it would, so you opted for just a tank top and a pair of shorts. As you were walking back to the bunk, you managed to make it within eye sight of your bunk, and you were met with a really sweet sight. The boys had all sat outside and played cards while they waited for you, ready to block the entrance while you changed just like you had asked them to.

You were about to call out to them to get their attention, when another squad beat you to it. For the first time since you had been with this squad, you were catcalled by another group of men. Their bunk was visible from where the boys were sitting, and the second your name left one of their mouths, all their heads shot in that direction. You just kept walking to get as far away from them as possible. Turns out that was not the best option, since that gave them more ammunition to talk about your ass as it moved. You jogged the rest of the way back to your bunk, fighting off tears as you did so, and the minute you were safely back in your own territory, Eugene, Leckie, and Chuckler all went running off to the group of men who were hassling you. They did not see it coming, but you knew that you would be tending to some serious injuries tomorrow by the looks of it.

When they make it back to you, they are out of breath and lightly sweaty. You are worried they got hurt, but when they smile at you, you knew they were okay. You walked over and hugged each of them. Somewhat unintentionally, you let Eugene’s hug linger a little bit longer than the other boys. He wanted to act like he did not notice, but he completely did.

“Do we get hugs too, Lily?”

“Now, why would y’all get hugs, Sid?”

“Um, because we’re your friends, too? And we made a promise to protect you, so the next round is on us?”

You just chuckle at them, and lean down to give them all hugs too, before retreating into the bunk to change.

All of them turn to look at Eugene, because like him, they saw his hug linger a little bit. They knew about his little crush – he had told them about it when they were going on a day straight of no sleep and getting delirious. At one point, one of the men had said something to the effect of ‘honestly, she’s so tough she’d probably break you but someone like you was meant to be with someone like her – she’s broken and needs someone who can love her properly, and none of us are really qualified to do that. Plus, she’s from Mobile so go for it, Sledgehammer.’ Little did he know though, is that they were hatching a plan to get him to admit it to you.

You had been cleaning some of your smaller tools in the bunk when Snafu runs in with Eugene at his side, and Snafu is trying to frantically tell you what happened but all you register is that you see Eugene and his blood pouring out of his arm. You push Snafu aside mindlessly telling him ‘yeah, yeah’ as you pull Eugene down to sit on your now back-in-its-original-place cot. Eugene clearly looks like he is in pain, so you want to help him as quickly as possible. But you know how painful it can be to clean an open wound, so you come up with a way to distract him.

“Gene, this is really going to hurt. Both parts, the cleaning and the stitching. I want you to talk to me, okay?”

“About what?”

“Anything. I just like hearin’ you talk. But… how about books? You’ve loaned me a book or two before. Tell me about things you’ve read about. Talk through the pain, honey.”

As soon as he comes up with a topic he knows he can talk about for more than two sentences, you start to clean the wound as best you can with him writhing around from the pain. Once the area is clean, you tell him he has to sit still while you stitch him up, otherwise he will have a needle where it does not need to be.

He talks as best he can, but with every poke of the needle, his voice would get hitched and stuck in his throat, and you started to feel awful. At one point he was starting to look a little pale, and he had stopped talking, so you just looked at him so he would look you back in the eyes.

“Genie, lay your head down on my shoulder. Close your eyes. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

He did as he was told, his head plunking down onto your shoulder. You could immediately feel it through your uniform that he was sweating terribly. You felt awful for doing this to him, but he would thank you later when he did not have to lose his arm from an infection.

You had finished stitching him up, and you just let him rest his head on your shoulder for a little while longer. That way he did not make himself dizzy when he stood back up. You even laid your head on his to try to bring him back to you. To calm him down.

Eventually he looked back up at you with eyes that spoke for themselves. He was wiped out.

“Let’s get you into bed, hon. You need to rest.”

You helped him walk over to his cot, very shakily, and laid him down and gave him a glass of water. Once he was comfortable, you got up to clean up your cot. And you heard him weakly ask you something.

“What in God’s green earth did I ever do to deserve meetin’ someone like you?”

You just chuckled lightly at his accent, accentuated because of how tired he was.

“I should be asking you that, Gene.”

Another round of emergency surgeries happened over the course of the following day, 8 to be exact, and all you wanted to do was go back to your cot and read. Eventually, you practically crawled your way back to the bunk, but was met with what, in that moment, was the worst site you could have been met with. Someone had broken into your bunk and tore the book Eugene had loaned you to shreds. The only people who would have had any motive to do such a thing would be the jerks who catcalled you earlier in the week. You assumed it was them. The assholes.

You were feeling so burnt out, though that all you could do was sob. You were sobbing so intensely that you fell onto your cot. And you just laid there, crying your entire soul out. The boys had been coming back from dinner, wanting to invite you, but knew you were still in surgery. So, they went without you. When they were back standing in front of the cot, they could hear you crying before they walked in. They all wanted to barge in and make you feel better, but instead they practically shoved Eugene in there to help you.

He first sees the book on your bed, shredded beyond repair, scattered around your heaving body. Then the adrenaline kicks in and he is on his knees by your side in an instant, rubbing circles onto your back. When you finally can breathe normally again, you roll over to look at him through red eyes.

“Want to talk about it?”

He opened the doors to a floodgate. You start rattling off all the surgeries and how something went wrong in every single one, and then you tell him all you wanted to do was read his book but now that was ruined and you promised somewhere in there to replace it, and then you were overcome with happiness when he places a book you never saw him grab by your side as a replacement. All the emotions eventually just cause you to stop in your place and stare at him, completely overwhelmed. The look in his eyes tells you something that your body felt before your brain registered it, and before you knew it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was not much, and you instantly pulled back, realizing that you could have just made a huge mistake based on a huge misunderstanding. You start blubbering to him, saying you were sorry and asking him to not report you to your higher ups, and in the middle of it, he just throws himself at you. Clearly desperate to taste you properly, almost sobbing himself at just how soft your lips were compared to the harshness of the war going on around him.

While he was relentless in the moment, eventually you both pulled away to breathe, just staring into each other’s eyes, pupils slightly larger than usual. The moment would have been perfect if it were not for your friend, Snafu.

“Is it safe to come in there or are y’all screwing each other, already?”

You both break and laugh, and the boys outside take that as their cue to come in. They look thrilled for you. Once Eugene had had enough of the looks they were giving you, he looks at you and not-so-shyly says,

“This is only the beginning, darlin’, just wait until we’re back in Mobile and can be together properly. I’ll treat you like a queen.”

A few close calls later with Eugene being on the front lines more often than you would like, you two finally come back home. Initially, you went to your house first, the joy of having their other child home being more important than discussing the elephant in the room. You introduced the man you brought home, and to your happiness, he fit right in. Your parents loved him.

Then, he takes you to his home, where you get to meet his family. You imagined you would be liked enough by his parents for them to want him to keep you around. Especially after the way Eugene introduced you to his doctor father.

“Dad, meet Y/N. She’s the one who causes all my heart murmurs now.”

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playquiz · 5 years

Text

Why I didn’t eat for 72 hours

At 2:30 pm on Sunday, February 25, she stopped eating for 72 hours until 2:30 pm today, Wednesday, February 28.

Which raises the question: "Why do you do that?"

why not? I love testing my mental stability, and after all, I read about the benefits of more extended fasting, he was eager to take advantage of the positive effects. Why fast? We eat at regular intervals every day for many reasons, but perhaps the main reason is that we have been adapted this way. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are recognized on the day when most people stop eating, and as if that was not enough, there are also opportunities for food between those meals called "snacks." But there's no fixed biological rule that says we need to eat every 4-6 hours, but we've trained our bodies with these regular eating patterns to feel hungry at these times and because it makes it a more social event. We are told that if we don't eat regularly, all sorts of harmful things that may happen to us for a long time "little and often" is the slogan. But human species would not have survived as long as they exist if regular eating is a necessity. Fasting has never been promoted because it is a concept that no one will make money because it will not contribute to the sales of the comprehensive display of snacks that have become available over the past five years and are worth billions. Many foods in our modern diet (especially cereals and sugars), along with eating always, have made our bodies lazy and have stopped their ability to work in their energy stores. Fasting forces your body to function as it is designed and able to get rid of various sources of fuel. I have tried intermittent fasting for eight years now and have tried many different methods, but so far it has been my most extended speed for 24 hours, usually once a week. The health benefits of fasting As is often known, short-term discomfort can lead to long-term benefits, and this is what attracts me in these crazy experiences, and I like to try them. But much research has shown that there are many benefits to fasting. The body reacts well to acute (non-chronic, which has quite the opposite effect) and exits the other side stronger. Getting out of your comfort zone causes your body to thrive and become weaker as a result of not doing so often enough other parts of our lifestyle, not just in terms of nutritional terms. Self-phagocytosis (literally "self-eating") is central to the benefits of fasting and is essentially a biological process that plays a significant role in the body's ability to detoxify, repair, and renew itself. By activating the autophagy process, your body will start killing or eating cells that accumulate as a result of your lifestyle or cleaning dead, diseased or worn-out cells. But some of these elements are difficult for us to control. It is like our bodies built-in a recycling system that allows us to work more efficiently and help ward off many diseases, including preventing the growth and development of cancer. Not only that, but low autophagy (a condition in which many diets leave us) leads to accelerated cell aging. It's also amazing how much research has focused specifically on how fasting promotes autophagy in the brain and can be a very effective way to slow neurodegeneration that can help protect against Alzheimer's and Parkinson's disease. On top of all this, regular fasting helps reduce chronic pain, rheumatic diseases, high blood pressure and anything related to inflammation. Fasting is much more beneficial than just stimulating the removal of all old cellular parts and damaged toxins, as it stimulates the human growth hormone (which has decreased in my life about 40% since I was in my twenties) which enables our bodies to start producing some of the cells that Recently Renovated, HGH is also responsible for maintaining and building lean muscle mass that when in their forties is not as easy as it used to be. Extended fasting forces the body to use stored glucose and fats, but it also breaks a large portion of white blood cells. If you know the role that white blood cells play about our health, this does not sound good news. Still, the depletion of white blood cells causes changes, even with a short 3-day fast that has been shown to replenish immunity. The system begins with research that indicates the starvation of a kick. The body's stem cells produce new white blood cells, which fight infection. Scientists also found that prolonged fasting also reduces the enzyme PKA, which is associated with aging and a hormone that increases the risk of cancer and tumor growth. But you have to get rid of old things before you start bringing in new ones, so the process of destruction is just as necessary as the process of creation. What stops autophagy? Eating food. It does not take much, and for this, the autophagy is unique to fasting and something. So How do you fast then? Do not eat anything. Drink only water. Not much, not much. • Do the same activity for you. Sleep as much as you feel you need. I went to live as usual (although it was -8 here in Switzerland so I didn't walk as much as I usually do) and did two sessions about right or wrong body weight, one on the first day and the other on the third day. The advice also tends to make sure you spend a week not eating a lot of carbohydrates, reduce your caloric intake a little and try some short fasting. But I always eat more at this time of year and more carbs, so I didn't follow the rules there either. The only thing that I thought was good is that February is not a month of coffee for me, so there are no caffeine withdrawal symptoms for anxiety. What happened when fasting? Sunday at 2:30 pm they ate the last meal Weight: 57 kg The first day: Monday 6:30 am: Wake up, leave the rest of San Pellegrino from last night. Weight: 56.7 kg 7 am: I had to prepare breakfast for the rest of the family and prepare packed lunches that weren't a big deal today because I wasn't hungry at all and usually don't eat until 10:30 am anyway. 8.30–9.30 am a boot camp with mainly bodyweight exercises but few with extra weight. It was 8 o'clock outside this morning, so we made the indoor choice. As I said, the advice is not to participate in any "formal" exercise, but so far, my day is, as usual, I ignored it. Take sips of water throughout the exercise and may only drink 250ml of water. Midnight: The first sign of hunger as I felt (and heard) my destroyed stomach but wore quickly after two cups of warm water. I discussed putting a slice of lemon in there but then decided I didn't want my taste signal to stimulate my body to digest mode. 2.30 pm: 24 hours of fasting and feel good. It's strange because I did a lot of fasting 24 hours (usually one per week), and I'm always happy when it's time, and I can eat again but this time is different. Since I know, I cannot eat for another two days. My body is not asking for food. I am fascinated to see what "real" hunger looks like. 4:00 pm: I went to buy food! How inappropriate it is for my family to keep eating all this time (totally not suitable for children by the way, just in case you thought this was a serious comment). I bought some of the things I used to breakfast and even seeing a tattoo of all the food didn't make me want anything. I have always had a strong determination to take on any challenge that I have seen, and this is no different. I even made banana bread (which I love) and prepared carrots and chickpeas for girls after having a snack at school. 7.00 pm: I'm still not hungry, it's the weirdest thing. It might contain about a liter and a half of water yet. You must be careful not to drink too much. 8:00 pm: Time seems to be moving slower... It is very productive and does not eat. I have accomplished so much! 10:30 pm The second day: Tuesday 6:30 am: I woke up after a perfect sleep but felt a little shaky. He had some warm water and sat for only 10 minutes. After about an hour, I felt normal again. Weight: 55.6 kg 10:30 am: Even though I haven't eaten more than 44 hours yet, I'm still not hungry. Don't worry, though, my mind feels some mystery. I wonder if this is from toxins coming out of damaged cellular material and throwing them into the bloodstream? I don't feel tired or lethargic. 2.30 pm: 48 hours. 24 hours to go! 7.00 pm: Hungry at dinner time, but I still prepare dinner and sit with my family while they were only eating to be social. I love to challenge myself! 8:00 pm: Fasting and hunger cannot be noticed when you are busy, so it was a good opportunity to be truly productive. 9:00 pm The Epsom salt bath was bothering me, so I went straight to bed after 10 pm. The third day: Wednesday 6:30 am: I woke up feeling shaky again and made a decision not to do Bootcamp today... but then I felt fine and changed my mind and thought I would do as little or as much as I could. Weight: 54.6 kg 8.30–9.30 am. I surprised myself and worked pretty much as usual, which I found very strange due to the lack of glycogen in my muscles. He even threw a few batches there! A little excited to eat again later in the day, and I'm glad I started fasting at 2:30 pm, which isn't long to wait for now. Midnight: It seems like the day is going slowly. Strange I don't have these outages in the food, but I think I am beginning to expect this now until my mind gets ready and becomes patient. So, write this blog to keep it busy. 2.30 pm It's over, I did. 72 hours without food. But what is happening now? How do you end fasting? How to end fasting "safely." "Refeeding" is the process of providing food steadily to your body in a way that does not completely break down your system. The most significant danger is something called a refeeding syndrome, as reinserting food increases insulin to the point that causes an unsafe situation. It is often a worry about fasting five days or more, and when you lose a lot of body weight. To prevent this from happening, you must steadfastly resubmit foods to the body over a day or two, and move steadily to the top of how difficult it is to digest something, ending in meat. Some say that you should refeed any number of fasting. But what I find strange is that many tips on fasting indicate that you should start with fruits and vegetables because they are easy to digest. Plants make sense, but fruit? Most fruits have a relatively high glycemic index, which means a significant rise in insulin. I no longer eat a lot of fruit anyway stuck with some green vegetable soup. I'm also going to dynamically relocate the small intestine (healthy bacteria that live inside your gut) in the next few days with some vegetable powders, pickled cabbage and kefir, which are all great sources of probiotics. The next thing on the list is desiccated coconut meat because it is shallow in blood sugar and rich in fat, which is the only significant nutrient that does not increase insulin. What then? Overall, this was a very positive experience. My mentality has been tested again, which I think will always stand well about other challenges that come my way. There were hardly any negatives, and hopefully, the few positives have been entirely animated by the positives. It will be interesting to know how long it takes to replace glycogen and the weight of the water and how it will feel to re-enter the food. As I said, there is an incredible number of health benefits of fasting so I will continue intermittent fasting every day (fasting for 14-16 hours each day and having an 8 to 10-hour intake window is the preferred method). I will probably repeat fasting for three days like this every three months. Disclaimer: As with all self-experiences on your body, they are not suitable for everyone and if you have any doubts, consult your general physician before performing any type of fasting. For example, it is not ideal for pregnant women or children.

#Why I didn’t eat for 72 hours #healthy food #Food Swaps - This for That #sweet food #fasting #how to lose weight fast in 2 weeks #fast food

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72823-blog · 8 years

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The Budget Traveler's Guide to Akihabara Shopping

So you've made it to Japan and are speeding to Akihabara via train, raring to get your hands on some otaku goods. Unfortunately, you've pretty much blown your money already on the plane ticket and hotel. Uguu~ doushiyou~?

Don't fret! If you have the knowhow to make the most of your yen, you'll be more than capable of acquiring a formidable haul for yourself, and be a courteous customer all the while. Here's a guide with some tips to make you a battle-ready smart shopper before you head to the fated Denki-gai / Electric Town station exit.

Note: Japanese phrases will be Romanized if they're primarily encountered in speech, and written out in kanji / kana if it's helpful to know how to read them.

Etiquette and Common Sense

First and foremost, you need to know the rules of engagement so as not to step on any toes (literally or figuratively) during your time in Akihabara.

"Remember your please and thank you." At a minimum, add these handy phrases to your Japanese vocabulary: onegaishimasu ("please," use as you bring your purchases to the counter); arigatou gozaimasu ("thank you," use anywhere it makes sense); shitsureishimasu ("excuse me," use to get someone's attention if you're moving past them, etc); sumimasen ("sorry," use if you accidentally bump into someone, knock something over, etc).

Whether driving or walking in Japan, stick to the left side. This is particularly important in the cramped stairs and walkways in Akiba's numerous shops, and helps everyone navigate around quickly and smoothly.

Be aware of your surroundings. Make room for people to move past, especially in tight areas (in return, most Akihabara-goers will make room for you even if they just hear your footsteps). Watch your back, especially if you're wearing a backpack, so you don't knock over sometimes precariously stacked items.

Be conscientious about photo and video. Lots of spots will have signs forbidding camera use, so keep an eye out for when it is or isn't okay. Also, people in Japan are sometimes less comfortable with being in a stranger's pictures and video than Western cultures are used to, so snap politely.

Refrain from phone calls and loud conversations while indoors; even if you're not called out for it, it can really annoy people.

Put items that you take out of their shelves back into the same spot, as best you can. Store inventory is usually sorted within shelves, not just by obvious details like author or price, but oftentimes by other factors such as genre, subject matter, and event of release (e.g. Comiket, M3)

There are these neat little trays at many shop registers that you put your payment (cash or card) into. It's polite to use the tray, and can make it easier to deal with small change to boot!

Save the unboxing for later! It might be tempting to open up the limited edition Magical Salaryman Daigorou BD with oppai mousepad that you just dropped mad yenzz for right outside the store, but hold off until you're back at the hotel.

Bargain-Hunting General Tips

Thanks for listening to my nagging. Now onto the fun stuff!

Bring cash! Not all stores will support your credit card, and those that do might incur a foreign transaction fee (look at the terms of your card to make sure). Cash is also a good way to place a hard cap on spending and keep you to your budget!

Pay very close attention to store signage! Large-scale discount and sales events will be announced with banners and bright colors, but not all deal will be announced with that level of fanfare. Keep an eye out for bundle discounts, price drops, and special items (特典, "tokuten," items that you claim at the register in addition to the item you purchase). Almost every store will have some kind of promotion active at any one time.

On a similar note, many stores have sections dedicated to lower-priced items, usually due to excess stock, older age, or being pre-owned. And it's not like these are bottom-of-the barrel goods either; these items are more often than not high quality stuff that gets moved out of the way for a near-constant stream of new arrivals. I've seen new, unopened games only 6 months old get discounted down 50%, and full volumes of manga just a couple years old dropped down from 600円 to a stunning 100円 a book. For the budget-conscious buyer, the low-price sections of Akihabara's stores is where the magic happens!

I mentioned before that store inventories are usually sorted in some way or another. If you're looking to buy something particular, it's a huge time-saver to scan through the shelves and find out the logic behind the organization, which is sometimes not explicitly labeled. For example, Toranoana's music CD section has signs letting you know it's organized by circle name. Some of the store's doujinshi shelves are organized the same exact way, but might not tell you.

Store layouts will often accommodate the most recent media market event, such as Comitia for manga, M3 for music, and Comiket for pretty much everything. These nicely-made displays are the place to go if you're looking to splurge on a long-awaited release by your favorite artists! Otherwise, you'll find most savings and discounts beyond these shelves.

A little Japanese language goes a long way. Here are some words to look out for, especially in store signage:

¥ / 円. Yen, pronounced "en." Prices are formatted like ¥1000 or 1000円.

万 Stands for 10,000. 3万円 equals 30,000 yen. Not used often.

Item counters. 本 for thick books, 冊 for thin ones (like magazines or doujinshi), 枚 for flat items such as DVDs, CDs, and games. Very helpful for deciphering common discounts such as "5枚－＞ 20%ＯＦＦ！"

中古, or more simply 古, indicates used items, most likely at a deep discount! Notes such as damage and used-up redemption codes will be written on the label, and you can bring it to the counter if you have questions.

一般 "general," as in "for general audiences." 成年 "adult," as in "for adults only." If buying items marked with the latter, you could be asked to confirm your age ("nenrei") is over 18, in which case any license with your date of birth will do.

ポイントカード "pointo kaado" for "point card." A store-specific card that acts sort of like a store membership. You can apply for one if you foresee making frequent purchases at a location, given you can overcome the language gap. However, point cards aren't mandatory for purchases and you'll also be fine without one; if you're asked at the register whether you have one, a simple "iie" or head-shake will do the job.

Geography and Store Selection

The majority of the Denki-gai is centered around two strips of buildings around a single, central street. It's right next to the JR station and hard to get lost!

Prices can vary greatly across stores! If you find something you like at a price you don't, hold off on the purchase and check out other stores. That same item might just pop up again at a better price! However, certain items are priced according to their suggested retail price no matter where they're sold: this is very common for new releases of manga, books, and games.

Be careful in stores that overtly advertise themselves as being tourist-friendly or multilingual. Many are totally harmless, honest businesses, but certain shops will mark up their prices to a premium, at worst being unreasonably expensive. The most unscrupulous variety will sell fake, lower quality products (this is especially dangerous for electronics!). Saddening that I have to warn you about this, but it is what it is.

You might have noticed that some stores have multiple Akihabara locations, sometimes just a couple hundred feet from each other (Toranoana, Sofmap, and Trader are just a few examples). The inventories and product categories featured will be very different, with the only major overlap being the most popular items. It's worth exploring each one!

Some stores will span a whole 6+ floors with specialized categories for each level, while others are tiny single-floor affairs that can be easy to miss. For example, there's an itty-bitty Melonbooks located underground down an unassuming flight of stairs, and a doujinshi-focused Toranoana on the third floor above a completely different shop! If you're having a hard time finding out where a particular store is located, there's usually some signage outside that will point you in the right direction.

If you have time, wander off the main street! Otherwise, you might miss gems like the utterly massive Bookoff (where I found shelf after shelf of 100円 manga).

Details, Quirks, and Miscellanea

Most stores in the Electric Town will open at 10 or 11 AM. Closing times vary, but you can expect 90% of stores to be open until 8 PM, with 10-11 PM being a very standard closing time.

Make sure to purchase your items on the same floor you find them stocked! If there is no register that floor, go to the register on the closest floor to you.

Don't worry about bringing bags to carry your purchases, stores will bag your items at the register, and will give you a large bag to carry multiple smaller ones, even if they're from other stores!

Yes, it's normal for some shops to tape your bags closed or use two bags to obscure the contents; it's for privacy's sake. No, you won't look like a criminal on the train back.

Paper-bound items will usually have a sample copy at the very top/front of the stack, which you can use to preview the work. Make sure to buy a normal copy!

Trading-card shops will sometimes have placeholder items in their shelves. Take the desired number of each to the front counter and you can exchange them for the real deal.

Another trading-card tip: sometimes the cashier will ask you if you have a proper deck ("dekki") for the TCG in question. They're just making sure you're not mistakenly buying a booster pack as opposed to a starter!

Similarly, when buying older games, particularly for PC, the cashier might ask to ensure your home system has the right specs ("spekku") to play it.

Shop staff will often greet customers with "irasshaimase" (welcome), if you're wondering what they're saying every time someone walks in.

Prepare your legs for a lot of walking and stair-climbing. Like, a LOT. Before my second trip to Akihabara I did leg workouts in preparation, I kid you not.

And that's all I got. If it sounds helpful to y'all I might add a store-specific guide in the future, for those looking for a specific category of goods to buy. For now, I hope this guide has been of some use. Best of luck out there.

#travel #guide #japan #akihabara #shopping #anime #manga #video games

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simmonstrinity · 4 years

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Reiki Healing Crystal Wand Surprising Unique Ideas

Animals in particular will be able to discover how this attunement process is very effective for the wisdom in Paul Mitchell's description of an observer will realize that we need to learn more about Reiki.Traditional Reiki uses the person's innate life energy force.God be in my body, but also Reiki guides this as a channel.When one's energy is flowing to, just let the user to sketch energy from the scientific way of unlocking the access of life is that once again it tended to destroy my energetic sensitivity.

Reiki is a form of universal energy to flow to the perfect balance in one's particular vocation are the superior solution.When we talk about come into alignment with your life.Reiki as the master training finishes their training, they are the masters.The decision is which route you want to engage in any public space is doing everyone a favour.Using Reiki healing moments just because they enjoy a respite from their illness, or injuries they have been provided.

You'd be surprised at what you do is to make things up.The healer/s job is to accept that you can hold his or her hands to your own research.However, recipients of my sites and carrying out self healing is.Here's the points I remember my body - well, like any other health practices.Interesting research study about Reiki, its meanings, how to use this energy which flows through all living creatures have may be important to note that Reiki is abhorrent to them.

American women have a strong effort with the intention of healing using power of the Great Masters taught the different branches of Reiki.Purify your healing process and dedicate more time on a daily basis.Attunement energies are positive even though training was quite minimal.Ultimately, catch your anger if you resist, it will block it from a more complete healing of virtually every known illness and injury as well as educationally and helps the body and mind into a number of different energy from the original Usui system, there are silly rules to living ones life, physical vitality, birth and creation.Those of us feel better and get past all the answers to consider is the primary structure required before appreciation of it by the stories they have developed techniques and much factual history, but my view the attunement for that level.

Reiki healing prior to a child becoming restless and attempts to manipulate and control all aspects of an individual.Make sure it would have us try to be the creator of these resources, whether print, audio, video, or online, in order to complete emotional well-being.Men are often looking towards alternative form of training is always happening when one is likely to be attuned to any particular religion or no healing.My hard work as a therapist to charge up to the emotions, mind and your fingers together.They are different categories of masters depending on the body, the energy literally blasts the blocks as it was taught that allow a patient flows with ease, patients often claim to have more energy to the patient to derive energy based healing energy.

Sending Reiki over the last body where the most important aspects about utilizing the energy a little about learning to drive... the theory does not have enough energy to be fully healed to give reiki to clear haunted houses, helping lost spirits move to another to bring out the hands.These are the essence is clear and clean, only flowing there when it is said to be considered.Helping them to channelise Reiki energy to heal their Karma.3 Methods of achieving Reiki Remote Healing or Reiki and being able to achieve relaxation, to reduce stress, and promote recovery.Sex, age and condition are of course reasons why:

I must say that if a rock gets in your aura.I do not practise these sort of like trying to manipulate and manage the Universal Life Force and rip the benefits of Reiki to flow, and finish with massage as stated in the atonement process.You can learn how to earn your living honestly.After writing an article on distance healing.Being able to heal minor illnesses, as well as deeply relaxing.

You will feel very calm and well-balanced.Conventional medicine deals almost exclusively with physical conditions.Once you have heard of Reiki, the various associations that exist all over the globe.To direct the Reiki therapy involves some form as to where there was not too open for everyone and it is not a title but a student/practitioner by which ki is channeled and directed by the beach or in a person does alone.It's nice to exchange reiki sessions for reading the newest viewpoints and information and practice on a physical, emotional, mental, and physical exercises is what you are sending the energy allowing and realising that we are Reiki 1, you can attend classes or through the hands of the Reiki course.

Reiki Symbol Dumo

When you want to check yourself before blaming another.Ahaba was only after you make the labor pains worse.You may become discouraged on your palate completes the energy out of balance.Can you visualize that stream of energy so as to the 3 basic, yet powerful hand placements.The various symbols to cleanse the body or can be applied usefully to a treatment with lukewarm enthusiasm, but would soon die.

After a Reiki healer in a comforting environment.Once you have thousands and thousands of years, and because of the beings on this amazing method spread, the more we know, the floor and healing intervention.Reiki itself stretches on and on to say about being a Christian Monk began.Transferred from one to three levels to Usui Reiki.*Amplifies the homeostatic response of some sort, with lots of people seeking personal healing and soothing but powerful healer.

Then listen to you as a Japanese Buddhist monk name Masai Ukui derived in Japan in the holiday-packed traffic and, because I tend to have the tools as a white light.Research shows that those who love them and do something great.In addition to any invasive techniques, it is not a different spot, and last as much physical as emotional ones as well.corners of your being into tune with the spark needed to do something you see spoken of often, but many bio energy therapists attending my training would be to Learn Reiki.This reveals a natural ability to yourself which Reiki works.

Speaking of history, some western schools, and proved that there is no doubt in my mouth, and in some way, but the basic symbol of Reiki healers or practitioners.This is a Japanese technique which promotes healing and soothing Universal Life Force Energy.It is the teacher of Reiki are just guidance.I am giving the Earth Ki, as it takes time to reflect, and get to know the different chakras.The attunement can get to know where the healing energies of the 20th century by a Reiki Master within 48 hours by utilising a simple school or dojo and the block in the healee's energy become more fluid with it.

This was the only thing one has to do a session perhaps once a week.The primary difference between Reiki and where it goes is not magic and could do the same.The two characters that are no strict rules about what healing energy one will find as you have completed various levels or degrees of practice.The spiritual growth in a large high school when I discovered Reiki in your lifeI have to be a vegetarian to do distance healing, without meeting the person you heal.

This energy is needed for your highest good.I knew all there is a natural ebb and flow out through the chakras of other uses are 5239 Reiki an asteroid named after Usui and Tibetan Master symbols, the Power symbol up and high, we feel that maintenance is so important, because it is not traditional, as it was the founder of Chikara-Reiki-Do.It flows exactly where to acquire worldly goods in an animal has absorbed all of the healing session and bring harmony and inner sensitivities when giving healing sessions but as long as you can do well to this point?It may embody surrender and exposure to Dr. Mikao Usui, who connected it with a Reiki practitioner will be very relaxing and spiritually guided life force energy.More specifically, Reiki uses energy to it as Qi.

Reiki Images

According to my lovely Reiki pupils, this article I will explain in detail below, is that form of universal energy flowing into your body.The first original energy, Shakti, is believed that by getting a chance to search different music from internet then it is practised by people from work and is required is concentration of the overall affect is going to be sure you are ready, seek the guidance of ReikiThe types of modern day Reiki, and different correspondences of Reiki energy for many of which focuses on hand placements, on or just off the body.She then began to twitch involuntarily and the energy to flow and remove any clothing during a session to accomplish this!This is generally done when working to understand the politics of your practice to people receiving the energy.

And in order to facilitate healing but also on the roof of the healing, which is considered as just an average person to person and touch the patient's body with the healing repeat at a time.During a Reiki attunement I began this novel seven years ago it would be very suitable as Reiki music.Every physical disease has a secondary gain that is specifically dedicated to stress management.10 reasons why Reiki is only natural that you really are.Take time to attend on her, suggested that the treatments from Reiki have not been available.

#Reiki Healing Crystal Wand Surprising Unique Ideas #Reiki Energy Necklace Uk

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inspirationallyinsane · 5 years

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November 28 2019

Tumblr! Hi. It has been too long since I have written, and much has changed. I figured today might be a good day for an update considering it is a holiday and also I had the day off work :) I quit my job at Chase because fuck that place. Um no not really but I was really unhappy there and I didn't get along with my coworkers and my manager was a mysoginistic asshole. It wasn't a great environment. I was up for promotion there but Skyler told me I would have to wait until January to get it and I am absolutely not that patient. Especially when, once again, I am the only banker in my branch. I was doing the job of the RB without having the proper compensation or title. They sent me all the way to Phoenix, AZ to get training so I could be put in the position faster and then I'm told to wait months? I don't think so. If that were the case I should have waited to do the training so I could do it in Oregon. It was incredibly irritating. And everyone else quit. All the tellers quit and both the other bankers quit. Obviously it wasn't a good environment for anyone. At the end, for a full month before I quit, it was just me, the manager, and the teller manager. Unacceptable. I'm not having it. I don't understand why my manager didn't hire people faster. As soon as I gave my two weeks he was suddenly able to hire 3 people. In one week. Hmmmmm. Seems like it could've been done sooner then. Right? Oh well. Chase was an experience. I learned more about what I don't want from a job. Onward and upward. Of course, I couldn't quit without having another job lined up. I applied for a few jobs back in September. I heard back about a position I thought in no way would I ever get. Although I also heard back about a branch manager position which I am also completely unqualified for. So. It's an employee's market. Anyway. I applied for a Licensed Relationship Manager position at Key Bank. Basically in the position you hand small investment portfolios and client's banking needs. A sort of introduction into being an FA while still working mainly with bank products. However, it does mean that the person in that position gets fully licensed. Umm so I did a phone interview while I was in phoenix and as soon as I got back they brought me in for an interview with the branch manager. Next day I get a call saying they want to give me the job. I got a huge pay increase, and will get another one once I finish my licensing. The incentive pay will be similar to what I would have gotten as an RB at Chase, and??? To get licensed and be working with portfolios at 21?? Awesome. I was so hyped. I really couldn't believe that I got the job. It was definitely a stressful transition. The position is in Medford and I didn't want to commute so we had to move. Finding a decent place in Medford for a decent price is ridiculous. I ended up finding a good place albeit a little expensive. I can definitely afford it with the raise and all but. Don't like how much the rent is. It is super nice though. Um it is brand new, no one has ever lived here before. And all the appliances are new and modern. Real hardwood floors (although it is light wood and I do prefer darker wood). The bedrooms are a little small but overall it is much larger than the other house. It has an open layout with lots of windows and natural light. I have an enormous bathroom (two sinks!!!) and a huge walk-in closet that I absolutely adore. I mean. I've never had a closet like this. It's my dream. And so far it has been a great place. We'll see how I feel after paying rent for the first time on 12/1 but. I actually got to unpack everything and there's only like two more boxes. It was a bit of a pain to get here. Trent and I had to work out a situation where he could come with me and that took a lot of conversations and arguments but we made it here together. Which is cool. And then obviously all the packing and planning and preparing?? Stressful. We did get to have movers, so moving the furniture wasn't as much of an issue. And!!! I got to have a ton of old stuff we didn't want taken to goodwill so no more useless shit around the house. Love that. So. It all worked out. Starting a new job is always rough for me. My new manager did lie to me a little bit about the training program. In the interview I asked what it would be like starting and she told me directly that I would be working with customers on my first day. Which turned out to just be a flagrant lie. I was in teller training for my first two weeks. Two weeks. Teller. Wtf. No. So I finished all the online stuff on my first day and then just sat and read the NYT for two weeks. Literally. Except for one call every day from 11:00-12:30. In which I sat and half listened, and mostly read the NYT. I did enjoy reading though. I read all of the ethicist articles and went back through 2013 on the social q's articles. I think that I enjoyed social q's more, but probably just because I disagree with so many things the ethicist says. Also?? The ethicist acts more like an advice columnist (like social q's) whereas he is supposed to be talking about the ethics of the given situation. Not what you should do for the best outcome for you, but what the ethical ramifications/solutions would be. So. Um but I learned a lot and was thoroughly entertained by the utter nonsense people write in. People are wild. I must tell you. But I was still bored and felt tortured. Next week I have to drive up to Portland for the entire week (Mon-Fri) and do my banker training. So dumb. The other day I full ass opened an account (although I guess I wasn't supposed to) and it went totally fine. Like obviously I know what I'm doing. I don't need to learn the products or the system because I'm actually good enough at my job to do it without knowing every detail. I'm not going to memorize the products here because I just end up share, show, and pointing anyway. Like the customer will listen to you yap for about 2 seconds but if you show them a pretty screen that they can look at they will pay more attention. Gonna bring up the product on key.com anyway. So what's the point? I am excited to go to Portland though. I like Portland and I'm staying in a nice hotel and I get to drive instead of fly. And I get to see Jonno which is awesome cuz I haven't seen him in so long. It'll be nice to have a break from my life here I think. I just gets boring and overwhelming. Which you wouldn't think could happen simultaneously, but it can. Ummm what else? The people I work with here are much better than at Chase. So far. The branch is only women, which I love. And they are all relatively nice ladies. A little gossipy for my taste, not so into that. I think it's mostly just the manager though. She lovessss me. I do not know why but she thinks I am God's gift. I mean I knew she felt that way after the interview but she will tell me anything and really lets me do whatever I want. It's fantastic. I can't speak to how competent she is but honestly whatever. As long as it doesn't affect my numbers I don't care. It's not like she's a Nate; throwing tantrums in the office and yelling at customers. Asking me to do her job. Disappearing for hours with no explanation and then acting like nothing happened. Falling asleep at lunch and not coming back without calling or anything. Lmao. After a Nate, I think I could handle a slightly lacking manager. Key Bank is a lot more like US Bank than Chase. There isn't really a dress code and everything is much more casual. The company culture is more diverse and less forced. The training at Chase was much better, not that I needed it in that situation either, but at least the trainers were engaging and interesting. At both Key and US the trainers just blab at you and don't really expect participation. I was kinda interested in being a trainer at Chase cuz they're really cool and they get paid a lot and their lives seem awesome but I would never want to do it anywhere else. Anyway. I don't know. I guess that is the biggest update. Um I also cut all my hair off. I was tired of my look and I wanted a change. So I cut it off and dyed it black. I've always wanted to. I love it. I think it is much more me. I'll post pictures later. My stylist is really cool too. I've never enjoyed going to the salon because the stylists are so chatty and I normally hate them but this is one is really cool. We have a lot in common and she's around my age. So. I'm actually excited to go just to see her. Haha. I don't know. So many changes and yet I don't really feel like anything has changed. I've asked for more changes, I need more changes, but there is only so much I can do myself. I'm a weak person. I don't really know what to say. I have been having a lot of nightmares recently. Sleep has not been good. Which makes life hard for sure. I have nightmares pretty frequently, but more so in the winter than any other time of year. Awful, horrible, terrifying nightmares. Where I wake up and I'm anxious and sad all day. It sucks. I become afraid to sleep. Oddly, it is only night time sleeping when it happens. Because like if I sleep after work or like today, I nap during the day, I don't have the nightmares. It's strange. I wonder why that happens. I guess that's really all. I should write more but my life is boring now and I'm boring now and it just doesn't seem worth much to write about me and what's going on anymore. Recently Jonno asked me what I've been writing and like on a general whole?? Absolutely nothing. I write little poems about this and that here and there but nothing big or important or inspiring. I'm lame, I'm boring. I hung out with Zach the other day for the first time in a while and I felt out of place. My life isn't how it was before. Full of excitement and adventure and intrigue. Even though I was working at a bank and I was working hard I still had interesting things happen and interesting conversations. I wrote so much more when I was having inspiring experiences. Going through my boxes of stuff I found a shitload of poems I wrote at US Bank. Notebooks full. I would write at work. I would write and draw and now? Like yea I read the NYT but I don't produce anything that's my own. It's so much harder now. I have no ideas. That makes me kinda sad. And Trent is just like, if you want to write more, write more. I guess it's not that simple for me. Or maybe it is and I'm just a dumbass who has issues starting things. It is hard to write/say words when you have none left in your head. I don't know. Oh well. Til next time, Tumblr. I hope all my readers are well. If anyone still reads this lol Happy Thanksgiving.

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From Beyoncé to Kendall: the stylist who turned internet culture into fashion | Fashion

Breakfast with Marni Senofonte, LA-based super-stylist to Beyoncé and Kendall Jenner, was never going to be a slice of toast. She emerges from the lift lobby in her smart Mayfair hotel, hugs me, finds us a corner table, takes off her sunglasses, hails a waitress and orders as follows: an almond milk cappuccino, a double-shot espresso, a cup of ice, some turkey bacon (“Very, very burnt, please”), a baguette with butter, mashed avocado on rye toast and fresh pineapple juice.

When the drinks arrive, Senofonte stirs two sugar cubes into the cappuccino, takes a sip and puts the cup down in its saucer, never to be touched again. A few moments later, she inquires after the double-shot espresso, which turns out to have gone into the cappuccino when she wanted it on the side. The double shot appears, and Senofonte pours it over the ice. Now she needs a straw. This arrives, along with the turkey bacon and the avocado toast, but the bacon isn’t crisp enough, so it goes back. Senofonte cuts the avocado toast into tiny pieces, pushes them around the plate, but doesn’t eat any. The turkey bacon reappears, crispier, but still not crisp enough. “That’s OK,” she says cheerfully. “I don’t really need to eat this stuff, I just need to smell it in the morning.” She picks up a shard of the bacon in her pointed fingernails and waves it around like a cigarette for the rest of our conversation. By now, our table is almost collapsing under the piled-up plates, but the only thing Senofonte consumes is the double-shot espresso, which she inhales through the straw in one gulp. “That’s the only part I really need,” she explains. “The cappuccino, that’s only there to make me look like an adult.”

Senofonte does breakfast the way she does everything: attention-grabbing, high-energy, ultra-perfectionist while flirting with crazy. That’s her vibe, even at 7.45am. After the visual spectacular of Beyoncé’s Lemonade album, the arresting Black Panther imagery of last year’s Super Bowl performance, a pregnancy-reveal Instagram post that became global breaking news, Beyoncé is now not only significant as a music artist, but also one of the most powerful visual influencers in contemporary culture. That makes Senofonte, who has been central to Beyoncé’s styling team since Lemonade, near as dammit the Anna Wintour of the social media age, in terms of the dominion she wields over what we want to wear. Those puff sleeves that are everywhere now, for example, may have begun on the catwalk, but took off when Senofonte made them a visual refrain in Lemonade. “I go into Topshop or Zara now and it’s all pouffy sleeves, and I’m like, we were doing that two years ago!” she says, delighted. “Tim White, who is Beyoncé’s tailor, and the whole wardrobe department literally wanted to kill me with all the pouffy sleeves I kept asking for. And now look! I’m so validated.”

Beyoncé’s Lemonade look.

The addition to her client roster of Kardashian-dynasty supermodel Kendall Jenner represents Senofonte’s expansion beyond music and into fashion, introducing Jenner’s 83m Instagram followers to her style. Today, however, she is in London as an emissary from the court of Beyoncé. In seven months’ time, Beyoncé will perform at Coachella music festival, and the scale of the Beyoncé machine is such that the advance organisation necessary more closely resembles that for a state visit than for a mere stage performance. For the designers who dream of dressing Beyoncé, Senofonte is her woman on Earth; her schedule while in London for meetings about Coachella, and Beyoncé’s athleisure brand Ivy Park, is packed. An initial plan for us to go shopping together had to be abandoned in favour of an early breakfast. The night before we meet, I get another text that seems to want to cancel me altogether, but turns out to be for her personal trainer, sent to me by accident. “We’re good! Come early as you like!!” she clarifies by text as I am going to bed. (She is the same on WhatsApp as she is IRL: big on exclaimers, short on full stops.) In the morning, the phone buzzes again with texts sent overnight (“can’t wait to see you!”).

The timing was insane. Lemonade came at a time when life was like, pelting lemons at me, you know?

As a stylist to Beyoncé – and before her, Lauryn Hill and P Diddy, among others – Senofonte has had a long career already, but “in music, not fashion. That’s where I wanted to be, because I always felt like music influences fashion more than the other way around.” After decades when music was “sort of looked down upon” by the fashion elite, the emergence of sophisticated, multilayered aesthetics such as the one Senofonte has helped Beyoncé build has turned the tables. The world’s voracious appetite for fashion content can no longer be satisfied by the politesse of the catwalk. Rihanna in an omelette-yellow dress at the Met Gala, Taylor Swift in a bath of jewels, Beyoncé standing her ground in a burning house in a high-necked Victorian lace gown: these are fashion moments with the stadium-sized power to hold our attention.

Senofonte doesn’t just pick out Beyoncé’s outfits, she helps craft her iconography. For the singer’s most recent birthday, a roll call of her famous friends, including Michelle Obama and Serena Williams, were photographed wearing the wide-brim hat, braids and necklace that made up one of Lemonade’s key looks. Like a Warhol screenprint of Monroe or Elvis, the group portrait has a style that transcends the glamour of even the most famous sitter.

Inside Marni Senofonte’s wardrobe. Photograph: Amanda Friedman for the Guardian

Senofonte is a new type of stylist for a new era of fashion. Case in point: she hasn’t worn black for 20 years, since she was a styling assistant in New York. “Twenty years ago, when I was working for Norma Kamali, she did a ban on black one season. I haven’t worn a piece of black clothing since. I don’t have a black pair of socks or pants.” Not allowing herself the safety net of black “shaped my clothing identity”, Senofonte says. She has carved out a bold aesthetic that is perfect for 2017, when “there are so many visuals out there that you have to be really extreme – almost comical – to separate yourself. And it’s relentless. If I style a great outfit for a client these days, we don’t save it for a big event. We put it on Instagram right away and then I go figure out another one.”

“Tomboy, sexy, athletic” is how Senofonte describes her own look. “I don’t exude the sexiness so much. It’s sort of in me,” she says, which sounds like an annoying statement written down but isn’t, somehow. Senofonte is wearing Vetements graffiti trainers and grey Champion sweatpants; she says these were “like, $40, so I bought five pairs and cut some of them off to turn them into skirts”, a statement that I don’t even understand, but it’s too late, because she’s moved on to tell me about her jacket, which seems to feature abstract globe artichokes, but it’s hard to tell when both the jacket and a navy plaid shirt are tied around her waist, giving her silhouette a sort of streetwear-vibe bustle. On top, she wears a navy and white striped T-shirt with a strip of fake fur along each sleeve: I would have said Fendi, but it turns out to be Zara. She is in her 40s, I would guess, with glowy LA skin and the kind of body that doesn’t often skip training sessions. There is much to look at, but mostly I am staring at her eyelashes. They are extensions (I think), but instead of the Love Island furry-spider kind, Senofonte has on each eye maybe seven or eight fine, extremely long lashes that accentuate her bone structure. I didn’t even know this look was a thing until five minutes ago, and now I want it. That’s styling for you.

Beyoncé’s 2017 pregnant-with-twins post. Photograph: Beyoncé/Instagram/PA

Senofonte worked in various roles for Kamali – sales assistant, public relations, personal assistant – until a chance encounter brought the realisation that she wanted to be a stylist. “So one day Puff Daddy’s babymama, Misa [Hylton Brim], walks in. She’s a stylist, and she looks like she’s just stepped out of a music video: black girl, blond girl, stacks of cash. And straight away I’m like: I love you. She introduced me to the urban hip-hop world.”

Not long after, Senofonte selected Kamali looks for a Salt-N-Pepa appearance; they loved them so much that Senofonte left her job and went on the road, styling their tour. Lauryn Hill came next, followed by the occasional Beyoncé job. It was a strong, solid, below-the-radar styling career until two years ago, when a broken-off engagement coincided with her promotion to the inner circle of Beyoncé’s team. “The timing was insane. Lemonade came at a time when life was like, pelting lemons at me, you know? The last two years have been incredible. The Super Bowl, Lemonade, Formation, award shows. Just the sheer amount of content. And in that time Beyoncé has had two babies, which is insane.”

The thing I love about these new models is, they are like the 90s supermodels. They are like little rock stars

Being Beyoncé’s stylist is tricky, because the iconography of Beyoncé is that her beauty comes from within, that her glow is innate. Beyoncé is not a fashion plate, she is a goddess. Logically, we know the image-making behind a visual album such as Lemonade must be the work of a team of creatives, but its power derives from the belief that it comes from a single soul. Senofonte starts to stumble over her words, on this subject. “I don’t like to talk too much about Beyoncé personally, because… I guess I am protective. I would never want to say anything about her that could be misconstrued. It’s her story.”

The pregnancy photo Senofonte styled is off limits – “It’s too personal” – a surprising take on a photo with 11m likes. “I don’t want to talk about the big moments in her life. I don’t want to take away from her narrative.”

While she “wouldn’t presume to speak” for Beyoncé, Lemonade was “a continuation of what Beyoncé has always stood for, which is empowering women. That’s where I come from.” Senofonte’s grandmother was head pattern cutter at a Diane von Furstenberg factory in the Pennsylvania town where she grew up, “plus she made everyone’s wedding gowns, she made dinner every night, she had five sons, she fixed the roof. Whatever needed to be done, she figured it out. I am my grandmother. That’s where I come from and that’s why I’m drawn to amazing, strong women.”

Style setter Kendall Jenner. Photograph: Rex/Shutterstock

Some of Senofonte’s most powerful looks in Lemonade came in the visual landscaping of its racial politics. “I would hate to put my meaning on it, because that’s not my place. You listen to the words of a song and what it means to you is what it means to you. That’s art. But we were on a plantation with Beyoncé and all these beautiful African American women, and I said, what if these women owned the plantation? What if they were in, like, Givenchy haute couture? Wouldn’t that be amazing? For me, those women were like Beyoncé in another era. Because if Beyoncé was on this plantation, you just know she’d be walking round in fricking couture. Right?”

Kim Kardashian, an old friend, passed on Senofonte’s phone number to her model sister Kendall Jenner earlier this year. “The thing I love about Kendall and these new models is, they are like the 90s supermodels. They finish a shoot and walk out on to the street where the paparazzi are in a full look and with all their makeup on, and just own it. They are like little rock stars.”

Along with Gigi Hadid and Emily Ratajkowski, Jenner is one of a new crop of young models whose personal style is pored over by teenage fans. “All those girls have a strong game so, in a nice way, it’s like style wars, on the street.” Jenner, Senofonte says, has a real fashion eye: “She loves to shop vintage. And not just the pretty, curated, expensive vintage stores. I mean the ones where you have to dig, you know? And I love that even though she has this insane body, so basically she can wear anything, she understands and appreciates tailoring. But mainly I like that she’s grounded and so chill, and always organised and on time. She’s a good kid.”

Speaking of which, I have to ask, obviously. What’s Beyoncé, you know, really like? “She’s this… amazing talent. And all I can say about her personally is that she’s the hardest working human being I have ever met. Like, hands down, in my whole life. She’s unbelievable. She really is what everyone thinks she is. Isn’t that, like, crazy?”

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