#cloverfieldings

@cloverfieldings 

fifty ways to kiss someone. send me a 💏 and i will randomise a number in order for my muse to kiss yours…  8. …in secrecy.

Most of the tavern were caught up in the story that Varric was telling. All eyes on the dwarf stood on the table, one hand waving a tankard of beer and the other gesturing wildly to match his words. 

Fenris saw this as an opportunity to be alone with Marian despite being in a crowded room. No one was looking at them. No one would see. And so the elf felt great comfort in slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her gently back against him.

No words were exchanged between them and Fenris had no intention of moving his lips for the sake of speech. A soft kiss was pressed to the back of Marian’s neck; far gentler than he was usually known for. A trail of soft caresses each pressed a little firmer than the last planted all the way up behind her ear. 

Everything hurt.

The taste of iron tinging her mouth was becoming increasingly all too familiar.  Tongue testing teeth to find one more loose than she recalled from that morning ( was it even still Tuesday? ) and a gash cutting deep to the inside of her lower lip.  Cracking dry, oversensitive eyes open forced Evelyn to squint against the harsh florescent light beaming down on her, but at the edge of the light … were those shadows moving?  There was no benefit to blinding herself trying to make anything out and so she tucked her chin down to find some small reprieve.

Feeling her pulse skitter and hasten was a natural reaction.  As was the chill that washed over stiffening shoulders and down her back.  Not knowing where she was, how she got there, or the extent of her injuries — it took a moment for her to remember her training.  

Stop.  Breathe.  Assess the situation.

To start, breathing was difficult.  Each breath goading a sharp pain to blossom in her right side.  A fractured rib, maybe more. Arms and legs restrained too tightly, forcing the circulation in her limbs to weaken and make running away difficult should she manage to slip free.  Her back and rear were sore, so she had been in the chair for some time already.  Impossible to know how long she had been unconscious.

Crap.  She really had messed up this time.

Going after Bucky and the lingering Hydra cells that had managed to thusfar evade S.H.I.E.L.D. had been a risk and one that had backfired in the worst way.  Unsanctioned, ill-prepared, and with no back-up, by all rights she should have been dead already.  If this was a Hydra holding cell … 

Ahead of her, she could sense a silhouette stepping into the light.  Thick soles of heavy combat boots echoing against the bare concrete walls as the figure came to rest in front of her, casting her in shadow, but Evie didn’t dare look up.  Not until her jaw was seized in a punishing vice and forced to meet the face of her captor.  A face that sent ice shooting through her veins.

“ You —— how? ”

he’d never preached the semantics of it overmuch.  hadn’t memorized their mottos or spent more time holed up in old, buzzing, bunker corridors than was needed.  but there was something to be said for hydra’s resiliency.  their base in washington overrun, thick with what pockets of shield’d stubbornly survived what ought’ve been a kamikaze for both parties.  ought’ve had more men with scars webbing their maws and weights like atlas’ on their shoulders.  resentment, for the lack of such, had made it all easier.  put the rounds in quicker and a purpose to marching steps.

someone’d been poking around.  using their clearance to nose through files their techs had encrypted long before they’d left.  flags in the systems.  a warning to keep eyes open.  as if his had ever  closed.  as if he could lose sight of a  responsibility.  the promise made through gauze and a pain that’d steadied hands.  the order that still smelt like brimstone and his own, searing flesh.  focus in spite of a ringing in his ears that never  quite  managed to die out.

if brock still knew how to be surprised, his fist colliding with the back of familiar blonde hair might have evoked it.  snuck up from behind, hugged close to shadows that did everything to compliment shrouded tactical gear and provide an ambush that, now, had fingers tangled and dragging.

less bullet holes than he remembered, evelyn’s face made for eating them’d hardly looked worse for wear.  nothing the strike from an elbow hadn’t fixed.  a rocking blow that had her sagging in her new seat, dangling against restraints that tightened for the nod he gave.  to someone over her shoulder and disappeared into the dark out of sight.  no one to distract for what he’d claimed as his.  the prize for his patience and the tingle between nerves  dead  and very much  ALIVE.

“  rise and shine, princess,  ”     deeper than she’d remember, his voice coal scorched and hoarse from use,     “  wouldn’t want you missin’ your own party.  ”     wouldn’t want to miss the spark in those eyes when the recognition fully hit and his teeth shined like daggers in the reflection as they widened.  the horror he’d been looking for.  food for the fodder.     “  there she is.  ”     rattling laugher, gloved fingers tightened for the jostle given.  till he’d wondered how much more the bone could handle.  if all it took was the one to crack her jaw and rend a smart mouth silent.  an indulgence for later.  after he’d gotten drunk off the sound of her.

          “ You know, just because you can beat me up doesn’t mean you can steal the remote whenever you like. I mean, this is my TV. I did pay for it. ” 

     He reached out. Fingers managing to graze the sleek plastic before it was quickly pulled away. No good. He’d never manage to steal it back. He’d have to figure out something else. Maybe he could make a new one? No no, that would take way too long. And he couldn’t just move to a new television. That wouldn’t do. That’d just be setting him up for future trouble. He couldn’t give in now. Not that easily.

it  wasn’t  fair,  but   fairness   hadn’t  ever  been  a  factor  before.   the  call  sang  in  his  blood ——— a  song  known  through   time   and   space   and  a  sense  of   duty   that  ignited  life  in  the  wilting  pyre  of  his  chest.   purpose   that  stretched  further  than  midgard  or  the  lavish  halls  of  his  home.    odin’d  preached  it  as  something  irresistible,  once,  and  thor’d  mocked  him  amongst  his  fellows  for  sounding  tired  and  old.   poked  fun  at  the  idea  that,  one  day,  he  wouldn’t  run  from  the  labors  of  his  birthright.   he’d  not  drag  heels  for  the  march  to  a  throne  meant  for  him,  but,  would  rather  walk  proudly,  head  high,  to  a  seat  of  honor.

readiness  had  a  way  about  it.   colored  to  match  a  dampened  mood,  it  sat  shadowed  and  quiet,  his  hands  wringing  one  another  over  the  ledge  of  a  balcony  he’d  sought  in  the  early  hours.   to  think  amongst  the  glow  of  night,  stars  sparkling  their  reminders  of  what  all  he  risked  to  lose  if   sentimentality   was  permitted  the  leave  needed  to  overtake  charge.   let  selfishness  govern  him  one  last  time  and,  perhaps,  jane’s  voice  wouldn’t  have  struck  a  hollow  cord  as  it  came.

perhaps   his  smile’d  have  reached  his  eyes.

perhaps   he’d  have  touched  her  and  not  felt  urge  to  recoil.

enough  had  happened  to  say  it  was  time.   she’d  only  narrowly  escaped  with  her  life  the  once  and,  now,  thumb  circling  her  elbow  as  she  was  reined  nearer,  thor  swallowed  the  truth  that’d  been  choking  him.   mortals  were  fragile,   no  matter  the  willpower  inside  them.    no  matter  their   want   or   need   or  the  greed - lined  things  between.   loving  them  would  always  be  painful.

“   i  wanted  to  see  your  stars  one  last  time.   ”       a  confession  burned  off  lips  still  curled,  though  the  softness  had  left  them  in  place  of  sobered  remorse.       “   they’re  so  much  farther,  here.   ”

           the mages at skyhold had been very patient and accomodating with rosalie. they also said she was a quick learner, which she already knew. however, she never dealt with any of the more serious injuries, just the simpler things. not that she had any SICK desires to see any of the graver wounds, but rosalie did want to learn, and she felt she wouldn’t be able to unless they gave her a REAL chance. 

          rosalie would learn the meaning of ‘careful what you wish for’. she was sorting a few things to make everything more organized for when the healers needed them, when they suddenly rushed someone inside, setting them on one of the beds. she thought she heard her brother’s voice, yelling, ORDERING people around. startled, she didn’t move at first, but after a while she slowly started circling them to get a better look.

          it was a woman. rosalie would have noticed the beauty in her facial features or the color of her hair, but she couldn’t --- not immediately anyway. she had burns all over the place, and if it wasn’t for the fact that her face was twisted in pain, she would’ve thought the woman was DEAD. she looked so skinny and weak, it was a miracle she was still holding on. who WAS she? and what had happened? 

          one of the healers shouted rosalie’s name and snapped her out of it, instructing her on how to help with the injuries. they spent a few hours on it before they were done for the day. of course her bandages would need changing after a while, and the youngest rutherford was the one left in charge of WATCHING her. not because they thought she was ready or trusted her a whole lot, but there was more work to do. they were needed elsewhere, but couldn’t leave the woman alone.

“   oh,   i’m  sorry …   ”       he  wasn’t.   down  to  feigned  submission,  hands  raised  and  head  entertaining  a  too - deep  bow.   down  to  a  less - than - earnest  clasp  over  his  heart  and,  finally,  the  sweep  aside,  flourishing  an  opening  for  claire  to  pass  into  the  enclosure.       “   i  forgot  you  were  a  raptor  expert  too.   it’s  the  heels,  they  throw  me  off  every  time.   ”       it  was  corporate  smugness  and  perfect  hair.   turn  her  nose  up  any  further  and  he  was  convinced  she’d  drown  in  the  next  rainfall.

which  made  that  flare  of  interest  for  her  being  there  that  little  bit  more  frustrating.   putting  fists  in  pockets  and  his  grin  subtle  for  the  taking.   bait  towards  an  argument  if  she  decided  this  was  the  time  and  place  to  pick  up  where  they’d  left  off  a  week  ago.   the   last   time  she’d  talked  to  him.   sniffed  him  out  then  complained  for  the  smell.   not  everyone  got  to  walk  around  perfumed  of  roses  and  ——— another,  less  casual ——— whiff;   vanilla.       “   don’t  let  me  keep  you  from  showing  me  how  to  do  what   is   my  job,   BOSS.   ”

@cloverfieldings

The slightest of smirks played on his lips followed by the softest huff of a chuckle. His condition hadn’t come up between them; it was something that always caused those closest to leave him. Either by their own violation or some other force deciding to make an example of him. In some cases... It had been Cadence himself. Or at least the wolf had decided it was time for them to go.

Evie most likely saw a jaded older man who preferred to keep to himself. Possibly strong in his younger years given his frame and the way he carried himself; but wouldn’t fare too well in a fight now. There were times like this one in which his secret made him feel more than a little smug.

@cloverfieldings

He’d been worried about her. Sat in his little apartment fretting about her and wondering if she was ok. Well... He knew she wasn’t ok, but that she’d come back. There were very few people who Cadence got close to, it lead to far too many risks. And although most wouldn’t consider Cadence and Evelyn to be close, he still noticed when she wasn’t around. And when the space in between visits were longer than usual, he’d kept an eye out for her. Spend his nights with all his senses on alert just in case her scent made itself known. 

A year. It had been a year and rumour was that she was dead. The name Rumlow burned into his brain and absentmindedly growled through clenched teeth. But he hadn’t given up. If he’d learned anything about the world today, it was that dead didn’t mean dead. There was always a chance they’d come back. 

And she had. Evelyn had walked through the door like she’d never been gone. And to his credit, Cadence managed not to look like a fretting old man who’d waited with hope alone for a year. 

“Course you were missed, Cariña.” 

He accepted the kiss with a smile in which his eyes did most of the work. His right hand pressed lightly to the small of her back in lieu of sweeping her up into a hug. There would be time for that later. He could never risk showing where his affections lay, not even in his place of work. Especially not here.

”You’ll stay and drink. I insist.”