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xisadorapurlowx · 1 year ago

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Jai's Story: Chapter 1

In London there is a building. This building is about a century old, originally made for public housing.

In the basement of this building, all is quiet, with the faint exception of humming lights, clicking of a keyboard and the sound of the Undertale track playing softly on a speaker.

As we go into the basement, we discover there is a group of people living underneath the flats.

There are five cots in a separate room, under the London streets, all of which is decorated to match the person who sleeps in the cot. The room is littered with gothic novels, a rubix cube, a deck of cards along with an array of other items. In the back corner of the room, there was an array of posters: One with a picture of an ogre and a donkey, one with a picture of a pixelated young boy, holding a sword above his head, light shining down upon his cast of monsters from another world.

Another poster had a picture of an infamous blue hedgehog, standing beside his dark and brooding fold, black with red spines and a frown on his face. The last poster, was a picture of a man in a porkpie hat, sunglasses and moustache with his young protege, dressed in baggy jeans, wearing a beanie with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. They stood in the middle of a desert next to a camper van.

In the main room, is a large table, housing fast food wrappers, an unfinished blank puzzle and a large computer, hooked up to a large server that blinks and whirs in the corner of the room next to a small kitchen, with white tiles, white cabinets and a sink with a drying board.

Sat at the computer is a man with umber skin, his hair is grown out as he stares at the screen vacantly.

Jai couldn’t remember the last time he went out. He hasn’t changed his clothes in days, they were beginning to smell of B.O and even the rest of the group were commenting on it. He saw very little reason to go and change them however.

All he could do was type away at a keyboard, shut down security cameras, make sure that his friends were never seen or erase the footage if that wasn’t possible. Sometimes, he’d just take a recording and place the timestamp in the top corner to fake the footage. It gave him more work to do other than just sitting at a computer all day, letting his mind rot.

Doing this job was like playing a very dull video game to him. He tried to think about it like an indie horror game where you were tasked with watching security cameras at a fast food chain with animatronic characters. But it just wasn’t the same.

This was the home of the vigilante group: UND3RGR0UND.

The thin vertical line at the top left hand corner of the screen, blinks at him. The man sighed as he took his hands away from the keyboard and mouse, giving up on what he was working on. He leans back into his chair and looks around at the table.

I should clean this up, he thought, but made no action to do so. He pursed his lips and then stood, walking around to the blank puzzle that had been abandoned by his friend. He took one look at it and then began placing the pieces into the puzzle.

He finished the puzzle quickly and then there was nothing to do again.

The man returned back to his computer and began to start up a video game when a beep came from his messaging system.

He assumed it was from the others, who were on their way back. But they never normally just outright text him. They normally give him a thumbs up on the security cameras and then he wipes the cameras of their existence.

Once the message was opened, the man felt his heart drop.

Hello Jai :)

Jai’s eyes widen at the screen and sits down, beginning to type away furiously at his computer. He checked everything, the security, his friends' tracking devices, everything. Nothing was amiss.

Jai quickly typed back to the person who had somehow gotten through every security measure he set in place.

Who are you? How do you know my name?

The person typed back:

That’s not important. Let me start by saying that I don’t mean any harm, I won’t reveal your location or your friends real identities.

I understand that together, you are the group UND3RGR0UND. I need some help from you and your friends.

Jai furrows his eyebrows and typed back:

Listen, if you want our help, you are going to have to refer to me by my codename: Isaac.

His code name came from a video game series about hunting down and killing vampires.

The person replied,

Ohh, I understand. That’s really cool, like a spy film!

Anyway, I need some help uncovering any evidence for a murder that happened around sixteen years ago. The man who was the main suspect for the murder was never convicted and I know for a fact it was him who did it.

Jai furrowed his eyebrows. His group never normally did this sort of thing. They were more about stealing items that didn’t belong to certain groups and returning them or finding information related to politicians for smear campaigns. Investigating cold cases is not in their job descriptions. Nevertheless he replied.

Tell me the name of the murderer and I‘ll talk it over with the others. What are you paying?

A reply came up almost immediately.

Antonio Angelico. I’ll pay whatever price you set.

Jai frowned. He’d heard that name before.

Where did that name ring a bell? For a super genius such as himself, he should know or remember who this person was.

He shutdown the message box and began his search. He started through the dark web, his eyes jumping about the screen as he worked, copying and pasting important information he came across into a document.

Antonio Angelico, middle aged (Although he didn’t look it), widowed, single father of one child who was about to turn eighteen.

The more Jai looked, he found everything this man did infinitely more suspicious as he went.

Apart from basic information on his person, there was barely anything else about him. And that was on the dark web, where there was information about nearly everyone and everything - from hiring contract killers to snuff films. This was strange.

Finally, he happened upon some FBI files and his stomach dropped.

The man who he had been asked to investigate was Antonio Angelico, descended from the Angelico bloodline. His family had a history of organised crime going all the way back to the fifteen hundreds.

Jai stared at his screen, uncertain of what to do. The team might not want to take on the assignment if it included someone like… like that. He went deeper into the files and found his wife, Eliza Angelico.

“I knew I’d heard his name before.” Jai muttered to himself.

Eliza Angelico, pop star of the early two-thousands. She made music full of energy, the kind that made you want to get up and dance until your feet bled and you dropped, exhausted.

Jai went to read on more, before the door burst open.

“Isaac! We’re back!” Titan called as she walked through the door. She smiled at him as the rest of the group trailed in after her: Goldie, Tim and Lithop.

Titan was a woman of short stature with topaz skin, her dark hair loose and floating around her head like a cloud. She had a brilliant smile, great for charming information out of unsuspecting people. Her codename, Titan, was derived from the moon of Saturn, its biggest moon. She has a way of taking over the room when she walks into.

Tim threw a duffle bag on the table, on top of the puzzle Jai had finished a few minutes before.

Jai pursed his lips in irritation as Tim grinned at him, his long black hair draped loosely around his shoulders.

Tim was a tall man with tawny skin, wide eyed with long dark hair that hung around his face loose. Tim was nicknamed after a character from an internet series.

“Careful!” Goldie warned, “That goblet is over a thousand years old.”

Goldie: Pasty pale, lanky and blond. Titan once said that his hair looked like it could have been spun from gold: Godlie just stuck after that.

“It’s just an old cup, what does it matter if it comes in a few pieces? It might get damaged in transport anyway.” Tim shrugged and opened the bag, pulling out a cup wrapped in bubble wrap, “This was certainly not easy, Lithop could barely make it through the security without being spotted.”

Lithop doesn’t say anything in response. Pale like Goldie, with a sharp black bob cut. If you saw her in the nineties, you’d have assumed she was Mia Wallace.

Jai remembered the first time that Lithop seemed to be the most talkative. It was a late night in their room, Jai had just finished building a projector and the group were talking about what to watch when Lithop spoke up, “I know, what about Daisy Brown?” And after that, she wouldn’t shut up for the rest of the evening.

The name Lithop, came from the series she was talking about.

Jai smiled at the thought.

“Which is more of a reason to be careful with it.” Lithop took the bubble wrap and carefully examined it, “Luckily, it’s not damaged, even with Tims’ recklessness.” She gave him a glare, which Tim seemed to ignore, pulled out a deck of playing cards and started to play with them.

The cards flurried between his hands as Titan and Goldie opened a steel case box and placed the cup inside.

“And back to Rome you go.” Titan shut the box, clipping its locks shut.

“I’m glad you guys got it.” Jai smiled, “I think I have another mission for us.”

“Already?” Lithop tilted her head to the side.

Jai hit print on the document open on his screen.

The printer in the corner of the room sprung to life and printed off the information Jai had gathered. The print outs were passed out around the room as he explained, “I got a message from an anon who wants us to investigate Antonio Angelico for a murder. Looking into it, it looks like his wife was found dead in a river in Birmingham.”

“Antonio Angelico…” Titan repeated as she scanned the sheet in front of her.

Jai held his breath. He had left out the fact that the man was in the mafia on the paper. He remembered his mother singing along to Eliza Angelico’s song and how much she enjoyed the music.

There was something fishy about her death, he always knew it. The day the death of the popstar was announced, everyone conspiracied on what could have happened. Maybe she was drunk and just fell into the river. Maybe someone had tied her up and thrown her in there. The coroner's report was inconclusive as to what caused her death. The whole case was just weird.

Jai rarely took personal interest in these cases, but this time, he now had to know. This was different from his regular jobs he got.

There was a burning need in him to bring criminals to justice for their crimes. He used to think he would make a good police officer but was turned off by the thought. After digging through Scotland Yard files at four AM and discovering the many cover-ups they had for officers who had been caught in hate groups, for beating their wives and abusing children. Who wants to be part of a group like that?

He had to find out what happened to the popstar. His own way.

“Wasn’t he the guy who married that popstar?” Titan frowned and looked up at Jai, “And they want us to investigate the murder?”

“Essentially.” Jai went over to his computer and typed in the name again, finding his address, “I thought that we could just go in and have a snoop around his home and see what we can find.”

“Did they offer money?” Tim asked, starting to make a card tower on top of the paper Jai gave him.

“They said however much we charge, they’ll pay it.” Jai explained.

The group looked at each other, “I’m curious.” Lithop spoke up, “I can get us in and out without being seen.”

“I could cause some kind of distraction.” Goldie looked up from the paper at Jai, “An explosion of some kind or…”

“I think we’ve had enough of your explosions, Goldie.” Tim snorted.

“Remember the night we went to Buckingham Palace?” Lithop added.

Goldie buried his head in his hands, “you don’t have to remind me.”

Jai frowned, “Did you guys blow up a section of Buckingham Palace?” He’d never heard of this before. He didn’t even see it on security cameras. Not even in the news, but then again, the government wouldn’t want the general public to know that Buckingham Palace had been attacked.

“Don’t worry about it Jai, you wouldn’t have seen it.” Tim waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, I don’t think we want a repeat of last time.” Titan furrowed her eyebrows, “Maybe you could just trigger some kind of alarm? Does he have any other locations we could use to lure him out of the house?”

“I have some concerns.” Tim returned to his serious countenance. “This so-called ‘murder’ occurred… sixteen years ago? Who’s to say we’re going to find anything? He’s probably already destroyed all the evidence.”

Jai sighed, “C’mon Tim, they said they would be willing to pay as much as we charge. Even if there’s nothing, we did as they asked.”

Tim paused and stopped building his card tower, admiring his work briefly. “Alright, it sounds easy enough.”

“What about you Titan?” Jai looked at her.

Titan bit her lip, looking over the information. “I mean, we just have to be nosy, right? And then if we don’t find anything, we get out and that’s it. Easy job.” She nodded, “Okay, I’m in.”

#fiction #bloodstainedlilium #bloodstainedliliumjai #isadorapurlow #isadora purlow #writing #creative writing #my writing #writerblr #writers on tumblr #fiction writing #author #author on tumblr #indie author #amwriting

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a-shy-blueberry · 2 years ago

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Chapter Three: Aftermath

Fandom: Star Wars the Old Republic

Pairing: F! Cipher Nine x Theron Shan; F! Darth Nox x Lana Beniko

Genre: Romance, Action, Smut

Chapter Summary: Consequences are revealed in the morning after and Kalida continues to ponder the familiarity of a certain cipher.

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Chapter Three: Aftermath

Nar Shaddaa

The Morning After

Nine had had a perfect night’s sleep. No messages to wake her up, no attacks on her ship, not even nightmares of Jadus or Watcher X, truly blissful sleep. She awoke with a smile; when was the last time she had done that? Curling up, she glanced out the window over the bustling city. The windows of her Nar Shaddaa apartment overlooked the Red Light Sector, but not even spice addicts or gangster stabbings could ruin this morning. It had always been hard to tell day from night on the smuggler’s moon so most places came with timed shades. It had to be around 8 because her curtains were already starting to filter in light.

Theron began to shift in reaction to the light and she pressed her legs together in memory of the night before. She had plenty of one-night encounters, granted usually they were for work but, when a girl is trained in the art of seduction, she never had to go far to get laid. The brunette gentleman in the red jacket had been an unexpected bonus.

Gradually as not to disturb him, she got up and put on her robe. Walking around the room she noted the clothes strewn about. The red jacket thrown over a chair was a unique piece, which gave her some solace, obviously not intelligence, a piece like that demands too much attention, maybe spec force?

He wasn’t imperial, his accent made that abundantly clear, she’d place him as someone who lived in one of the Core Worlds but, had moved there later in life. Just muddled enough to know it was real, an operative would stick to a specific planet’s dialect, making sure it was clear they were Republic. For her own safety, she had concealed her accent, going with the Balmorran twang she had picked up when trying to join the resistance.

Nine moved into the kitchen area to brew some caf, pouring her own mug, she sat at the table, savoring the delectable beverage.

In the bedroom she could hear a faint rustling noise, he must be up now, she thought and she poured another mug. After a few minutes, she entered her room.

“Why hell…” she stopped short, her room was empty, the clothes and Theron were gone. She popped in the refresher to check if he was there, ducking her head in the closet. After a thorough inspection, she still hadn’t been able to find him.

Nine walked over to her holopad and pulled up security footage. There weren’t cameras in her room of course but, maybe he had snuck out while she was distracted. Flipping through the footage, she flicked from the kitchen to the living room to the hallway and still didn’t see anything. Her bedroom door only opened when she had left to make caf, and when she had entered just minutes earlier. The only other access point was the windows. Surely not, she thought to herself and flicked to the outside footage. Yep, there he was climbing out of her window several stories above ground. Was he really trying to avoid me that much?

Anger began to rise in her chest, she couldn’t believe he had left, he had used her! Wait, but wasn’t that her intention, a quick one-night stand to blow off steam? She shouldn’t be this concerned with him leaving, it actually made things easier but that didn’t quell the hurt she felt. Nine shook her head, she was acting crazy, last night meant nothing, it was nothing and the ache in her heart was just because it had been a while. Yes, that was all there was nothing special about him. Nine tried not to notice how she was refusing to think his name.

5 minutes earlier...

Theron woke to an empty bed.

He was a little disappointed at first but when he heard her humming in the kitchen and smiled. Theron cozied back into bed to wait for her when he received a message marked urgent. Jonas had forwarded it to him.

----------Forwarded Message--------

From: SIS Analytics [email protected]

Subject: Urgent: Republic’s Most Wanted Location Found

To: Agent Balker [email protected]

Cipher Nine, Ghost of the Empire reported on Nar Shaddaa. The subject is armed and extremely dangerous. Apprehend with extreme prejudice. Permission granted to Kill on sight.

Attached to the message was a dossier.

Name: Cipher Nine

Age 25-35

Species: Human or Humanoid (Unconfirmed)

Hair Color: Light Brown?

Build: Slender

Height: Average

Theron perused the file, his eyes caught a grainy image attached. No…it can’t be. Theron recognized the smirk on her lips, and the curve of her back. The humming in the kitchen seemed to grow louder. Theron was beginning to panic, he was at a disadvantage, he wasn’t armed and he was on her turf. He glanced wildly, the bedroom was bare of course, it would be. She hadn’t climbed to the top of Imperial Intelligence by leaving herself open to attack. She had likely tagged them in the cantina. Separating them was a smart move and he had been clueless to her plan.

Theron cased the room again, there was a single door that led to the rest of the apartment, led to her, his body ached at the thought of her, her body pressed against his, her lips, her touch. Theron shook his head, snap out of it, he needed a plan. There were windows covering the wall adjacent to him. That might work, Theron always kept climbing gloves on him so the height shouldn’t be a problem, now he just had to gather his clothes, get dressed, exit the window, and not making any noise at all as to alert the Empire’s greatest operative who would likely kill him without hesitation. Okay, let's do this.

Theron only ended up with a singular noise when shutting the window, granted he only used one hand to shut it, and he was clinging to a wall 4 stories up. The climb down was easy, and soon enough he had made it to an SIS safe house, taking 4 different trains to avoid anyone tailing him. When he shut the door behind him, a wave of relief rushed over him. His implant beeped another message.

From: <unknown>

Subject: [Redacted]

To: <[email protected]>

I’ve found them, it’s time. Meet me on Manaan.

Well fuck.

Kalida had always been a capable warrior. She had to be in order to make it as the Emperor’s Wrath. She had bested far tougher opponents than the weakling Jedi defending the temple but, she was seriously distracted.

Nali?

How was someone supposed to react when they see their dead sister across the room? It’d been months since the Korriban and Tython assaults and Kalida just couldn’t stop running it over in her mind. Of course, it wasn’t Nali. Just someone who looked… exactly like her. Darth Nox was always saying that humans all looked the same, the Wrath was starting to believe her. The Cipher didn’t even react to her. Her face was expressionless, shut down. It wasn’t at all like the bubbly little sister Kalida had left when she went to Korriban.

She had only seen Nali briefly before she was killed in action on Dromund Kaas. They had both been stationed on the stormy planet they called home. Kalida was newly apprenticed to Darth Baras, and Nali had been selected to serve Darth Jadus for a special assignment. An assignment that would get her killed during the terror attack on the Dominator. Her parents had been so proud. Their daughters were home, safe, and successful. Their parents had both been Lords of the Sith, but they were never stereotypical in their behavior. They were warm and loving, and fiercely afraid for their daughter's safety. When Kalida began manifesting force sensitivity, her father had wept, terrified of what would await her at Korriban.

Nali was different. She was supposed to survive. Force-blind, she had enrolled at the Imperial Academy and quickly rose through the ranks as a capable officer. Her successes had put her parents at ease, Nali could take care of herself and for the first time, her parents stopped fretting over the dangers of the Empire.

They were never the same after Nali’s death. Hollow shells of the people that had once loved life so fiercely.

When Baras had attempted to kill Kalida on Quesh, rumors of her death had reached them. The last straw in their sanity had been pulled and they broke. On Corellia, Kalida had discovered the news. Her parents, mad with grief, flung themselves off the edge of the Colossus. Kalida was now alone.

She never blamed them. The fault for their deaths fell on Baras and Baras alone. Her grief became fuel for her rage and it had empowered her in her duel against Baras.

Now alone, Kalida was clearly losing her grip. This Cipher Nine looked similar but, it had been years since Kalida had seen her sister, a woman who didn’t even recognize her back was hardly enough to go around digging up graves.

Focus on the task at hand. You can hunt for ghosts later.

Kalida tried to clear her head but, an ominous feeling was beginning to grow.

“Malavai?” her husband snapped his attention to her, immediately making her feel silly, she knew if she asked he’d spend every waking moment looking into this for her but she needed to know, needed to be at peace. “See what you can find that connects Cipher Nine to Agent Nali Zane,” Quinn didn’t press at the mention of her dead sister, giving her only an understanding nod before returning to his holopad.

“Of course my love, you’ll have my findings as soon as I can compile something together.” With that, Kalida felt her entire body relax, Malavai would find whatever connection there was, and if it turned out the cipher was just using the face of the dead, Kalida would make sure for her sister that that crime did not go unpunished.

Do not interact with 18+ works if you are under the age of 18, do not copy or repost my works, or share on other platforms. All characters belong to Bioware. Do not follow if you are under the age of 18 or do not have an age in your bio or if you have filled out the age verification form

#swtor #star wars #star wars the old republic #theron shan #lana beniko #shadow of revan #swtor fanfiction #theron shan romance #lana beniko romance #cipher nine #darth nox #swtor sith inquisitor #swtor sith warrior #swtor agent #swtor fic

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alderaani · 3 years ago

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still i find you there

summary: after Rako Hardeen, there are several things that need fixing.

written for @codywanweek and the day 1 prompt fix-it. I fully intended to have more days completed for this, but given that it’s *checks notes* day 5, it’s probably not going to happen. this is very angsty and perhaps a bit melodramatic, but the heart wants what it wants. also catch me forgetting obi-wan was wearing his vambraces when he ‘died’ and having to stretch to make it work for me. warnings for grief, percieved death and all that good stuff.

He’s alive.

It seems impossible. It feels entirely predictable. And yet...Cody can’t make himself believe it. He saw Obi-Wan die, the grainy security-holo footage of slick Coruscant rooftops showing little more than a bolt of red and a lone figure reeling, falling. No sound, no clear faces, and yet...He knew that red hair. He knew that posture, how it could startle like that if timed very, very well.

It had been the only thing that made it real.

It had been a terrible idea to look at the footage, just like Rex (and Fox, and Wolffe, and Boil) had told him, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d needed something to help him break out of the stupor, the long silences, the staring at the door like Obi-Wan was going to walk right through it. The war didn’t stop just because someone had died, and the GAR hadn’t cared about the cataclysmic shockwave it had sent through Cody’s life.

They’d sent the 212th packing to Mimban within a day of the assassination, and Cody had nearly gotten his head blown off after leaving his left flank wide open, expecting the snap-hiss of a lightsaber to cover him. Instead Wooley had been his salvation, yanking him back at the last second and roaring that he needed to get it together. It had been like walking in a dream.

Watching the holo had worked. It had convinced some deep, desperate part of himself that Obi-Wan really wasn’t coming back. That somehow he was going to have to carry on alone, or worse, with another Jedi, whose differences would grate at him like a knife paring into bone.

And in the end, it had all been a lie.

Cody takes a deep breath and leans his forehead against one of the blaster racks in the armoury, the durasteel sharp and cool on his skin. His knees shake and he grips the shelf edges until his fingers hurt, just standing there, just breathing.

His heart feels big and swollen in his chest, gluttoned with relief and anger, paired with a sharp, aching grief that now, more than ever, has nowhere to go. There’s no reason to harbour it; he should know better.

He just can’t help it.

He’d stood through the shuttle landing, through the torturous debrief, through strange, hairless Obi-Wan meeting his eyes and explaining earnestly that ‘if it hadn’t been classified of course he’d have said something…’ without so much as a twitch, but a great yawning chasm in his belly had opened and only kept getting wider the longer they kept making small talk about provisions, and reopening Obi-Wan’s quarters and a million other things that had happened since he’d - gone away. In the end he’d excused himself, planning to retrieve the personal effects he’d personally cleared out of Obi-Wan’s quarters because he’d needed to feel close to him, after, and there hadn’t been any other practical reason to go in there.

Except now he’s standing here, the relevant box at his feet, and he just can’t move.

Eventually the trembling in his legs slows, and he lifts his head from the shelf, turning instead to slide down it, using it for balance until he hits the floor. His knee thunks against the crate as he collapses, the scant things inside clinking against each other.

That had been one of the worst things; Obi-Wan always filled a room. His presence was a gentle, quiet, pervasive thing. Cody had held his small collection of two plants, a meditation mat, a few trinkets from planets visited and a lightsaber maintenance kit and felt nothing.

He swipes ruthlessly at his face with one hand, thumbing under his eyes to scrub away the moisture.

He needs to get moving. They’ll be looking for him soon.

Instead, his knee has dislodged the thin fabric covering the crate, and his eyes catch on the vambrace stacked on top, the straps frayed and snapped. Cody had helped paint this one and its pair, had shown Obi-Wan how to get the colours to take properly to the unwieldy plastoid.

He’d been the one to break it, too. Obi-Wan had just come out of the field medstation, bruised to shit but still smiling, and Cody had crowded him against a powered down holostation in the empty command tent and yanked at his clothes, just needing to feel his pulse under his skin, to feel the warmth of him safe and alive. It had been too much for the worn out armour to bear.

Two cycles later Obi-Wan had been on his way to Coruscant again, and there had been no time to fix them. It’s stupid, but Cody had taken one look at them on the little desk, in the space that had once been Obi-Wan’s room, and all he’d been able to think was that he hadn’t been properly protected. Cody had broken his armour. Cody had left him vulnerable.

Obi-Wan’d taken his spare set, of course, but he’s always complained that they chafe, and if there’s one thing Cody knows, it’s that if your armour isn’t right you aren’t fighting at your best.

He reaches for the broken piece now, thumbing the frayed synthleather and the chipped paint, yellow and red and faint scuffed up grey.

He knows now that it wouldn’t have made a difference to what happened, but he still heaves himself up to his feet after a moment and goes to the supply closet, pulls out a new strap, and sits back down again, committing to unpicking the stitching of the old before he can attach it.

He should’ve done this sooner.

He should’ve been more careful.

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve -

He could have -

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and he doesn’t realise it until the salt is heavy on his cheeks, until his neckline is wet, until his vision blurs so hard he can’t see. Cody makes a low, animal sound and curls over the vambrace, his fingers stilling against the threads.

His throat aches, his face is swollen, his body hot. He feels sick, and disoriented, overwhelmed in a way he can’t name.

“Cody?”

He flinches like he’s wounded, turning his face away from the door, like it will hide the evidence of his weakness. He knows he’s failed when Obi-Wan’s breath sucks in, so loud in the quiet.

“Cody?” His voice comes again, much closer this time. “Will you...will you look at me?”

Through the haze, Cody catches something that does make him turn. Obi-Wan sounds...hesitant, so uncharacteristically tentative that it cuts through the rest.

He wipes quickly at his face, smearing the mess, and gets his eyes just clear enough to find Obi-Wan’s face, so foreign and smooth but so dear for all that. His eyes are still the same, glacier-heart blue, and worried, right now, focused on his face.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers at whatever he finds there, then reaches out, stutters halfway through, and drops his hand. His wrist is bare, and his robe sleeves flop backwards.

“I was trying to fix it,” Cody croaks, shifting to unveil the half-mended vambrace. “Before I brought it back. I broke it, and then you left without it and then you -”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to flinch back this time, while Cody greedily drinks him in, taking in the changes to his face, the way the lack of a beard makes his jaw look sharper, his features look younger. The stubbly fuzz of his hair is odd, true enough, but it’s still him.

“I - I never thought,” Obi-Wan says haltingly, and now Cody frowns, because it’s so unlike him to lose his words. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker away, then back, like he’s steeling himself. Almost like he’s afraid.

“I never imagined you’d feel responsible - Cody - I’m so sorry -”

He reaches out, his fingers loosely catching Cody’s wrist this time. Cody feels it, the warmth of his hand sharp and electric. Tears spring to his eyes all over again; it’s the first time they’ve touched since he walked Obi-Wan to the hangar and he kissed him goodbye behind a LAAT/i. He’s replayed it so many times since, thinking he’d never get another, but the memory does the reality no justice, failing to preserve the way heat floods under his skin.

Obi-Wan moves to take his hand back, and Cody traps it there, anchoring his fingers and dipping his head, just breathing through it.

“If I could have told you,” Obi-Wan continues. “I would have, I swear it, I -”

“I know,” Cody says instantly, because he does, he’d never doubt it. “I know you couldn’t.”

Their fingers curl more securely together, calluses and knuckles finding a home against their pair.

“I didn’t know if you’d be angry,” Obi-Wan says. Cody shakes his head before he even thinks about it.

“It was your duty. I just -,” he squeezes his eyes shut again, voice breaking. The deception had made him angry. He can admit that, but it was never directed between them. The war stops for no-one, after all. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“I promise, I always intend to stay,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

Cody’s smiling when he kisses him, so full his cheeks ache with it. It tastes of salt and bitter-sweet and just a hint of desperation, their hands clasped with the vambrace cradled between them.

Then Obi-Wan draws him in, tucking his head under his chin. Cody presses his wet skin to the hollow of neck, listens to his heartbeat, and weeps.

#codywanweek2021 #rako hardeen arc #codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #alderwrites

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cheri-translates · 3 years ago

Text

[CN] S2 Gavin and MC in Chapter 19 (Part Two)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from Season 2 🍒

My focus is on Gavin x MC interactions, so content relating to the plot will be in bullet-points :>

Part One: here

[ Notable Scene: Infiltrating the STF ]

MC: ...but aren’t you relieved from your duties?

Gavin seems to guess the words I haven’t said, and he lets out a soft, unnatural cough.

Gavin: I know every patrolling post in the STF, patrol timings and angles of the surveillance cameras. I can ensure that we’d get in successfully without anyone noticing. However, since I only saw his face from four years ago...

MC: I’ll go with you. As long as I see his face, I can point him out to you.

Gavin has a teasing smile in his eyes, perhaps seeing the urgency written on my face.

Gavin: In that case, let’s go for a walk in STF tonight.

Late at night, Gavin and I infiltrate the STF through an outer wall.

Pale moonlight outlines a misty halo around him, softening his edges.

He finds an open window with ease. Lifting me up, he lets me jump through the window before leaping in himself.

This appears to be a utility room.

MC: Captain Gavin’s really good at this.

Gavin: This is the STF. I won’t bump into anyone even with my eyes closed, much less the walls.

Before Gavin finishes speaking, Tang Chao walks in with a bowl of instant noodles, a wicked smile on his face while he pushes the door open.

Tang Chao: Instant noodles must be eaten on the sly. Otherwise, I might-

When Tang Chao sees Gavin, he pauses in his footsteps.

In this short span of time, we look at each other speechlessly, the only thing left being the steam rising from the instant noodles.

All of a sudden, Tang Chao rolls his eyes, his body doing a 180 degree turn. With the instant noodles in hand, he steps out of the door before closing it.

Gavin: ...

MC: ...didn’t you say you wouldn’t bump into anyone even with your eyes closed?

Moonlight streams in from the window, illuminating the side of his face clearly. I turn my head stiffly, watching as his Adam’s apple bobs slightly.

Gavin: Tang Chao is slacking off.

Tang Chao’s slightly frantic voice can be heard indistinctly.

Tang Chao: Since Captain hasn’t been around, there were changes to the duty roster... Please save me. That was so awkward. Oh no, I don’t want to run laps...

I stare at Gavin quietly. His expression has returned to normal, as though nothing happened.

Gavin: It’s okay, let’s continue.

Gavin listens to the surroundings calmly. After a moment, he pulls me out of the utility room.

Suddenly, a set of uniform footsteps can be heard from behind us.

STF Agent: ...

Even before we can turn, the regular footsteps turn into small, scattered steps, akin to busy bees fleeing in disarray. The surroundings slowly return to silence.

MC: Have we been completely exposed...?

With a soft cough, a reddish hue climbs up the tips of Gavin’s ears.

Gavin: It doesn’t count if we aren’t caught.

Eli (through the speakers): Hey hey hey.

Eli’s voice suddenly drifts from the STF’s broadcast speakers. Gavin carefully pulls me over to hide in a shadowy corner of the corridor.

Eli (through the speakers): ...due to some indescribable reasons, all the surveillance cameras in the STF will take a break for 15 minutes. If a certain colleague wishes to go somewhere or do something, please do so quickly.

Gavin: ...

MC: Pfft.

Seeing Gavin’s slightly speechless expression, I can’t help but laugh aloud.

This person is protected by many people who are unafraid of anything, isn’t he?

After this, we occasionally bump into familiar faces. However, they seem to have made a prior arrangement, and choose to ignore us.

Gavin seems to hesitate on whether he should make an explanation, but it eventually turns into one sigh after another.

In the end, we “very successfully” step into the room with the “Eye in the Sky” system.

Using the system, Gavin retrieves footage from the football match, and MC is able to identify the wheelchair-bound man, Du Wen

Gavin then searches up information on him as well as his approximate whereabouts

The both of them find him in a small alley

He admits that he’s the founder of the Fulcrum Charity Organisation, and has been assisting Gray Rhino in whatever he can

He claims that he means them no harm. To prove this, he allows MC to read his memories

Although they find the circumstances too convenient and deliberate, MC reads his memories because why not

She notices that certain memories have been stored in a misty bubble, just like the “firewall” she installed for Gavin earlier

Still, she searches for memories from the New Years Change Incident

She "sweeps” these memories into her own mind, and confirms that he’s indeed a victim of the incident

Gavin asks how he should contact Du Wen in the future, and the latter says he’d appear during a safe time

Once they leave, MC tells Gavin that they can use the Golden Apple 2 to display the memories she saw

Gavin says that Du Wen’s words aren’t trustworthy, but at least they have some leads that could further guide them to the truth

The next afternoon, MC learns from Kiki that the exhibition hall will be re-opening the next day. So she contacts Gavin and plan to sneak into it that same night

When she arrives, there’s someone else with Gavin - an elderly man with a missing left arm

She finds him familiar

[ Notable Scene: MC meets Captain Yan ]

Gavin: MC, this is the old policeman, Captain Yan. Today, he’s mainly here to cover for us. Captain Yan, this is...

Captain Yan: No need for introductions. You’ve mentioned her many times.

Before I can express my shock, Captain Yan sends me a warm gaze.

Captain Yan: MC, we met once at the hospital. I always hear your name from this young lad, so I’m pretty familiar with you.

Captain Yan smiles teasingly, then gives Gavin a meaningful look.

Captain Yan: If he ever bullies you, remember to tell me. As his senior, I’ll give him a proper scolding.

MC: O-okay! Thanks, Uncle Yan.

Gavin: Cough. We’ll leave the pleasantries for next time. We should go now.

With this, Gavin speeds up and walks forward, a faint red hue climbing up the tips of his ears.

Seeing Captain Yan’s grin, I hurriedly lower my head and follow after him.

MC: Gavin, wait for me!

With Captain Yan keeping watch, MC and Gavin use the Golden Apple 2

In the simulated memories of the New Years Change Incident, Gavin notices post-injection bruises on Du Wen’s hand

Du Wen and those around him don’t seem to know what’s going on, but they’re frightened due to the sounds of gunshots and explosions outside

A handful of Evolvers revolt, but are shot to death by officers dressed in NW uniforms

Du Wen flees, and the both of them follow after him

In the end, they watch as a beam crushes the lower part of Du Wen’s body

At the same time, a drone in the simulation appears to take aim at MC

[ Notable Scene: Gavin’s Protection ]

Gavin: MC!

An urgent exclamation drifts to my ears. Turning to the voice, I see Gavin lunging towards me involuntarily.

Those amber eyes grow large in front of me. In the next second, I’m enveloped in Gavin’s arms.

My cheek is pressed tightly to his chest, and powerful heartbeats echo at my ear.

His heart is beating very quickly - so quickly that my heart subconsciously matches its frequency.

“Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.”

It’s as though these powerful heartbeats are the only things left in the entire world.

In every difficult or dangerous situation, I’m always able to hear this sound.

It’s as though they have melded into my bloodstream, becoming a kind of instinct.

Gavin: It’s fine, there's no need to leave the system.

Gavin’s hand is by his ear. After stating his judgement calmly, he looks at me.

Gavin: Are you okay?

MC: Gavin, this is fake.

Gavin: Mm. But my body seems to have reacted a little faster than my brain.

His amber eyes reflect the blood-coloured sky, filled with worry and fret that he hasn’t had the time to shed off.

Gavin: Whether it’s real or an illusion, I don’t want you to get hurt in front of me.

MC: But they would simply pass through my body.

Gavin: Not even if they pass through.

He speaks unyieldingly.

MC: Okay, whatever you say.

Gavin: Let’s get out of here.

They continue looking at the chaos and hear the sounds of crying and screaming

Gavin appears composed, but the fingertips holding onto MC are quivering, as though he's barely suppressing his anger at the injustice before him

The scene shifts, and what appears before them is a NW laboratory

Du Wen has thick tubes stuck all over him, and he’s submerged in a gigantic apparatus

MC traces that the memory is from 2 months prior to the New Years Change Incident

A senior official from NW walks in, and he seems to be in charge of a secret experiment

[ Notable Scene: Gavin and MC’s Future Father-in-law]

His eyes are steadfast and icy, as though nothing can sway him.

And nothing can destroy or obstruct him.

Gavin stands rooted to the spot. He watches as the man draws closer and closer to himself-

And walks straight through him.

Gavin has already matured into someone whose height is on par with his. They have incredibly similar features, and they even share an identical straight and powerful gait.

However, Gavin doesn’t turn around. His entire body remains stiff until the world gradually gathers into a patch of darkness.

He doesn’t move. The faint white light causes him to look pale.

Slowly, he lowers his head, covering his eyes.

I stand behind him, not saying a word.

That senior official is Gavin’s father.

Once they’re out of the Golden Apple 2, Captain Yan notices how solemn Gavin looks

Gavin takes Captain Yan and MC to a simple apartment to talk

Gavin fills Captain Yan in on what they saw

Captain Yan and Gavin start discussing what happened, and MC heads over to the window to look at the view despite the best view being Gavin

Gavin brings up the laboratory, and Captain Yan asks if he saw “that person”. Gavin grits his teeth and says, “I saw him.”

[ Notable Scene: The End of Chapter 19 ]

Gavin: MC, I’ll send you home.

By the time Gavin comes up from behind me, Captain Yan has already left.

I notice Gavin’s tense lower jaw. He seems to be doing his best to appear natural in front of me.

To appear as though he doesn’t care.

Seeing this person before me, I feel my heart being clenched tight.

MC: Gavin, I want to go somewhere before heading home. Could you accompany me?

When we leap over the walls of Loveland High, confusion flashes across his eyes.

The gentle evening breeze brushes his fringe, and his figure is immersed in patches of moonlight.

It’s been a very long time since I last returned to this place. But images from this place always surface in my mind.

The field, the stairs, the roof, the gymnasium late at night, and the infirmary.

During that period of time I had re-lived, I wanted nothing more than for time to move a little faster.

So that I’d be able to reach that day when I could walk over to him a little sooner.

However, this year, I’m reluctant to let time pass by as quickly.

During the time in which the wind blew by, that young man filled all my memories related to youth.

That’s how reluctant I am.

That’s why I’ve been walking slowly on purpose. Even so, in just the blink of an eye, he disappeared in the breeze of youth.

Pulling on Gavin’s hand, we walk along the field, and walk into the depths of the forest behind the school.

MC: Gavin, I think you’re angry.

I turn my head to the side to look at him. Gavin simply furrows his brows slightly, and it’s clear that he feels a little uneasy.

MC: You don’t need to pretend that nothing’s bothering you in front of me. Anger isn’t something you should feel ashamed of.

Gavin: I...

He opens his mouth, but something sews it up again.

A fierce wind suddenly rises, causing countless fallen leaves to swirl in the air.

They are reminiscent of incessant, agonised screams.

Gavin: I... just can’t understand. There are clearly many other methods. There are many other choices.

His words are blended into the wind, suppressed and pained.

I don’t turn my head to look at his expression. I simply stand beside him quietly, our fingers interlaced together, standing in the middle of the fierce gale.

With the flow of time, the fierce gale becomes calmer. In the end, it morphs into a gentle breeze, brushing our fringes.

Gavin: MC, thank you.

I shake my head, turning my head towards him.

MC: Gavin, do you know something? The reason why I brought you back here was to tell you that I hope your beautiful memories won't simply be confined to high school. Beautiful things should continue, and never end.

While saying this solemnly, my heart speeds up uncontrollably.

Gavin’s pupils quiver slightly, and he squeezes my hands tightly.

Gavin: Thank you.

Very softly, he repeats these words.

MC: Let’s walk around a little more before heading home.

I chuckle happily, my footsteps becoming incomparably lighter.

All of a sudden, my palm feels empty -

It’s as though Gavin released my hand.

Feeling puzzled, I turn around to find that Gavin had simply shifted his hand behind his back.

MC: What’s wrong?

Gavin: ...nothing.

When the girl’s confusion is dispelled and she continues walking forward, Gavin lowers his head to look at his vanished right arm, his expression composed.

As compared to his right hand disappearing the last time, the scope seems to have grown larger this time.

Gavin follows behind the girl calmly, contemplating quietly.

His time might be shorter than he imagined.

Gavin chuckles softly, the corners of his lips hooking upwards slowly.

Gavin: MC.

I pause in my footsteps and turn around, realising that we’re several footsteps apart.

MC: Gavin, what’s wrong?

Gavin: I just received news from Captain Yan. I might have to leave for a while.

MC: So suddenly?

Gavin: Sorry. After sending you home, I’ll set out.

He looks at me apologetically, as though suppressing something once again.

After returning home, I quickly remove my shoes and rush to the window to search for that figure.

Guessing that I’d do this, Gavin doesn’t leave immediately. He stands downstairs, waiting for me.

A gust of wind burrows in through the window, as though carrying with it slight reluctance as it makes gentle twirls around me again and again.

I lean my palm against the glass, wanting to say another farewell to him.

MC: Gavin, you must return safely.

💙 Calls and Moments: here

💙 Support the café by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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adie-dee · 3 years ago

Text

Nyssa pacing the length of the empty apartment they were waiting in was enough to pull Dominic’s attention from the security footage on his laptop. Interesting. This was nervous, human energy quite unlike her usual statue-like patience. “What’s happening, precious?”

“I want to get in there,” she replied, pausing at the window to glare at the bank opposite. “Something feels wrong.”

“In what way?” Everything on the security feed looked fine, other than the fact the thieves were struggling with the vault, but he’d expected that; despite trying to convince them otherwise, they’d bought the cheapest, crappiest equipment he’d had on offer.

“It should be me breaking into the vault. I can get in and out faster and quieter and with less collateral damage than they can. And yet you’re insisting on doing things this way.”

Ah. He’d inadvertently insulted her.

“We’re hiding our robbery in their robbery,” he told her. “I need to get into a safety deposit box.”

“Why are we even doing a robbery? I know you have easier ways to access them.”

“Mm.” Dozens, in fact. “”But the bank manager is Patrick Arnett, so I want to make sure there’s nothing that can trace this back to us.”

Whatever insecurity was running through her mind vanished, instead replaced with a faint, knowing smile. “That would be your ex, Pat, who you—“ she paused, a thoughtful frown forming. “What do the kids call it now? Spooked? Haunted?”

“Ghosted. And I didn’t ghost him; I left him a note.”

Nyssa settled on the floor behind Dominic, pulling out his bun. “What happened there?” she asked, running her fingers along his scalp and through his hair. “You never said.”

“We had bigger things to worry about at the time.” A comment kept intentionally vague; the last thing he wanted was to upset her.

“You mean my return.” A flat voice, and if he could see her eyes, he was sure they’d be glassy. It had taken her years to come back to herself, and even two decades on, the memories were still fresh.

“We don’t need to talk about this.”

She was tugging on locks of hair now, the movement suggesting she was braiding it. And then a sharper tug, tipping his head back until he could see her eyes. “I think now is the perfect time to talk about it,” she said, “seeing as your entire plan has been done this way to avoid him.”

“We need to focus on the bank.”

“You are more than capable of focusing on both at the same time.” She held Dom’s gaze a moment longer before finally releasing his hair enough for him to look at the screen again.

Annoyingly, the bank idiots were still trying to get into the vault, which meant Nys was not going to drop this. “There’s not much to say, really. You vanished, and I snapped. Was going to burn the world down if that’s what it took to find you.”

“And then you met him.” She was weaving again, pulling his hair back into a complicated plait, and he relaxed at her touch.

“He pulled me back, somehow. Gave me something to cling to when I felt like I was going under. And he knew I was looking for you - I was always honest about that,” it still hurt it was one of the few things he hadn’t lied about, which had come up in the inevitable argument, “but he thought he’d need to console me when I gave up or found your body. But then you came back. And he wasn’t interested in sharing.”

The tension on his hair dropped, and Nyssa wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He leaned back into her, closing his eyes to savour her affection. Losing Nyssa—even for the brief five year period she’d been gone—had left him feeling like his heart was being ripped out on a daily basis, and when she’d returned, and Pat had begged him to leave her, the pain had only grown worse. Nyssa was his first, his always. No one else had ever come close.

“Would be cruel for him to see me now,” Dominic murmured. “He doesn’t need old wounds opened.” If only it could have ended better.

Nyssa stroked his hair. “And cruel for you, too.”

A beep emanated from his laptop and he pulled away, muttering a low swear. “These fools are going to trip the silent alarm,” he grumbled, typing away. “Get your gear ready, we’re moving in three.”

The weaving picked up speed, stopped, and the plait dropped against his neck. Then a kiss on his cheek, followed by her forehead resting on his temple. More than a sign of understanding or concern, her touch was a promise. Despite all the loss they experienced, she would always be there. His shining rock against the madness of immortality.

And then finally, her voice in his ear. “I’ll see you on the roof.”

#Dominic and Nyssa #diamond mind immortals

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sinner-as-saint · 4 years ago

Text

You Know Just What I Need.

Head of Security!Reader x Bucky Barnes AU.

Run-through: Freshly out of uni, Bucky Barnes comes back to live in his family home. Given he’s the only son of a billionaire, he needs security around at all times. And his dad puts you in charge of his son’s safety until he comes home from a business trip. You intend on doing your job as perfectly as always, but what you didn’t know it that Bucky is a spoilt brat who is only interested in pestering you and making your life a living hell… until eventually you are left with no other choice but to teach him a lesson in order for him to learn how to behave.

Themes: spoilt brat!Bucky, smut, fluff, slight dom!reader,

a/n: I was re-reading my bodyguard!stucky au the other day and I thought, what if the roles were reversed…? Enjoy!

“He’s here.”

One of the guards spoke through the comms, signaling you that Bucky Barnes was here. You were in the monitor room upstairs, watching over all the live footage of security cameras placed around the Barnes’ property. You observed the one at the gate and watched how the expensive car made its way through the gates.

He’s here.

You walked out of the room and made your way downstairs, on your way to meet your boss’ only son. You were the head of security, working for Mr. Barnes. You led an entire team who helped you in directing the rest of the staff employed by Barnes. Whenever your boss was away – which was always – every decision regarding the properties and companies went through you first.

Security processes, new policies, and most financial decisions, legal or illegal transactions – basically everything needed your seal of approval when the boss was away. You and Mr. Barnes had a comfortable bond since day one, he trusted you immensely, which is why you had been handed over the responsibility of taking care of his son, Bucky, until the latter’s father comes back from a business trip.

Basically the son was your responsibility for the coming weeks. Rumor had it that the young man was a nightmare; the complete opposite of his father. Since your job allowed it, you stalked him on his many social media platforms as soon as you received the phone call from your boss, just to get an insight of what you were getting into. You spent hours scrolling through the many pictures Bucky posts all the time. And so far, you gathered that he was; a brat, a party animal, spends his father’s money like it’s no one’s business on expensive cars and clothing. He enjoyed the finer things in life.

Oh well, you thought to yourself, this one is going to be quite a handful. Besides, rich kids hate security anyways.

You got downstairs and found some of the guards standing at the foyer, you joined them and they all gave you courteous nods. You noticed how they all stopped slouching as soon as you approached them, they stood straight. You smirked a little. Your job did require you to be somewhat intimidating and controlling, but you liked it. You quite enjoyed the power which came along the job.

In less than a minute, he finally walked through the doors; the one and only – Bucky. He entered the house with a gait which radiated arrogance. You refrained from rolling your eyes at him and his almost visible cockiness. But, you expected no less.

Dressed in all black, leather jacket and boots; you had to admit he was an attractive young man.

“Well, well, there’s nothing better than coming home after 5 years and being welcomed by a group of guards!” he sassed, looking at the guys. And you saw how he did a double take when he saw you. He did that thing that most men do when they see you for the first time; stare.

Perfect hair, minimal makeup, bold red lip, high heels for the aesthetics and wearing a tailored black suit with a white button down shirt – you looked great and you knew it. So you let him stare, just like you let all of them stare. Only not many men approached you, most of them were intimidated.

But Bucky wasn’t one of those, no. Bucky was shameless, and cocky and confident. He walked right up to you, eyed you up and down and smirked.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, surprising you a little. But surprising the rest of the guards even more. They all turned their heads in sync to look at the exchange between you and Bucky. Because no one ever dared to talk to you like that before.

You smirked and tilted your head up just a little, looked Bucky right in the eyes. “Y/N. Head of security. My team and I were appointed by your father to keep you away from trouble until he gets back home. Because you’re unable to do so on your own despite being a grown man.” You answered with a straight face and nothing but sarcasm lacing your words.

Bucky was a little taken aback, usually women melt under his stare – but not you. He heard a chuckle or two come from the group of guards who stood nearby and he felt a little, just a little intimidated. But he liked that. You were fiery, and he was digging it. “Anything else, Mr. Barnes?” you asked again, breaking his little reverie.

He shook his head. “No.” he still had that damn smirk on his face.

You faked smiled at him. “Very well then, Wilson will show you to your room. He and Quill will be your bodyguards for the days to come.” You briefly explained, and pointed to Sam and Peter.

Bucky spared them a dirty look and by the time he looked back at you, you began walking away. “Hey, wait!” he called out after you. You stopped and turned around, refraining from rolling your eyes again. Bucky smirked, and walked over to you again.

“Why can’t you be my bodyguard? You seem badass enough for that. Besides, we could really have a lot of fun together you and I.” he finished with a wink.

You flashed him another faint, fake smile. “Mr. Barnes, you should know that I have a lot more important things that require my attention. My team needs me to help run your father’s company while he’s away. I can’t possibly do that and babysit you at the same time.” You leaned in just a little and whispered the last sentence just so the guys won’t hear you.

Bucky chuckled as you stared at him for another second before turning around, leaving him behind again. And oh did he enjoy watching you walk away. He had never had any woman be so uninterested in him before. So this was very new to him. And he was intrigued.

Like you said, his two bodyguards showed him to his room where he spent the rest of the day. He thought of you, shamelessly, while he showered. Self-abusing himself under the warm water as he thought of your bold personality, and those irresistible eyes of yours… and your red lips, and your body… and the way you carried yourself, confidence and power surrounding you. He had only met you hours ago, but he wanted you. Bad.

He made a mental note to pester you and annoy you until you finally give in. because he was Bucky Barnes, whatever he wanted he got. And right now there was nothing more he wanted than you. Bucky didn’t know exactly where or how this would go, but one thing he knew for sure – he had to have you.

---

The next two days were absolutely terrible. Actually, the days were fine; it’s Bucky who made them terrible.

It started out when your boss called you, asking you if you could stay under the same roof as his son. For the latter’s safety and well-being, because there was no one else he trusted around his son more than you. Not having the heart to say no to the old man, you agreed.

Bucky was excited when he heard this decision made by his father. And suddenly, all of his shirts went missing. He paraded around with just his sweatpants on, purposely entering and leaving the room which you were in several times just to get your attention.

Sure it was annoying, but you couldn’t complain much; he was fit. Now you knew why he had so many girls around him all the time on all of his social media posts. The guy was hot!

He annoyed you even more by constantly flirting with you, without hesitation. Or he would do this thing where he would purposely walk by you, and make sure his body brushes against yours each time. But you worked for his dad so there was nothing you could do or say. However no matter what he did, he was never disrespectful.

He even tried to have your number, to which you denied at first. Then he thought he blackmailed you by saying what if he gets in trouble one day and how he should have it just in case. And you rolled your eyes and gave him your number just so he would shut up.

But he didn’t.

Given you had to live with him, you settled in one of the many guest bedrooms. You chose the one on the ground floor, trying to be as far away from Bucky’s room as possible. But still, he annoyed you all through the night by texting you incessantly. And it was always cheesy texts which made you question how is he a 25 year old adult;

‘I can’t sleep. Come cuddle me?’

‘I know you’re awake. Are you possibly thinking about me? ;)’

‘I would sleep better with you here with me yk’

‘I’m all alone… in my bed… thinking of you… with my hand wrapped around my big… Bible because I pray to God that one of these days you respond to my messages jfc’

You would never respond to any of his messages. You would just laugh and turn your phone on silent each night before going to bed.

It’s alright, you told yourself, I can keep him safe and ignore him at the same time, right?

Wrong.

A few days later, Bucky received an invite to a prestigious party being held in the city by one of his father’s closest friend and long-time business ally. And given his dad wasn’t here, Bucky was the one who would have to go in his place, he couldn’t possibly miss it.

But there was a problem – Bucky needed a date.

“Absolutely not.” You denied him right when he came into the study room, where you were dealing with paperwork, asking you to be his date for the party tomorrow.

He sighed dramatically. “Why not? If you go as my date, you could keep an eye on me as well.” He approached you by the book shelf and stood a little too close. He leaned in and whispered, “Because I tend to misbehave a lot.” He breathed in your ear in his deep, velvety voice.

And you felt a tingle dance down your spine when he whispered in your ear, but you convinced yourself it was nothing.

You thought over it. His dad had specifically asked not to let him go anywhere on his own. Plus, you wouldn’t trust him on his own. Lately even Sam and Peter had been complaining that he could be unmanageable.

“Fine.” You agreed on going as his date to the party.

---

The lavish party was being held at an equally grand mansion.

You should have known it was a bad idea to come here as Bucky’s date. Because not only was he absolutely shameless and flirty, and annoying but this spoilt brat also took the liberty to tell everyone that you were his girlfriend before you could stop him or correct him.

And soon, you two became the talk of the room; he noticed that the men gave him envious glares while you noticed that the ladies gave you envious glares.

“We look great together.” He whispered in your ear and proceeded to lean down and kiss your cheek and pulled you closer while the two of you were slow dancing, after he begged you to. And you had to keep fake smiling as you looked up at him with nothing but annoyance in your eyes.

You kept your hands around his shoulders while he smirked and placed one of his hand right on your butt. “Come on, admit it.” He said, full of cockiness.

You gently moved his hand from your ass to the side of your leg, where your thigh holster was, with a handgun in it. His smirk disappeared for a few moments as he felt the gun through your stunning evening gown and you smirked this time, looking up at him.

Just for show, you leaned in to kiss his cheek as well. “Try that again and I’ll shoot you and make it seem like an accident.” You whispered in his ear and pulled away to fake smile at him.

Bucky chuckled. “Can’t tell if you threatened me or turned me on even more, babe.” He whispered, winking at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

You left the dimmed dance floor as soon as the song ended. And you went to grab your clutch and went to get a drink at the bar. You sipped on it lazily, then noticed that Bucky wasn’t by your side yet; annoying you like he had been all night. You turned around, expecting to find him near you somewhere. But you didn’t see him.

You panicked for a moment. But then your phone rang in your clutch. You answered it immediately once you saw that it was Bucky.

“Where the hell are you?” you whisper-yelled through the phone.

He chuckled. “Aww, miss me already? Can’t even leave you for a few minutes? Jesus, you’re so obsessed with me.” He sounded just as cocky as ever. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had that damn smirk on his face right now.

You sighed, less worried now that you knew he was alright. “Bucky, where are you?” you asked, your tone serious.

“We have a problem.” He answered.

“We?”

“Well I do, but you’ll have to fix it. It’s bad.” He spoke again.

You sighed again. “Everyone here already thinks I’m dating you. What could be worse?”

He fake gasped over the phone. “Wow that hurt. Okay but seriously, I spilled my drink all over my shirt. I have another set of clothes in the car. I need your help, please.”

“Where are you?” you asked, clearly annoyed but you had no other choice but to help him.

“Upstairs’ library.”

You ended the call in his face and sighed again. You swallowed the rest of your champagne and asked one of the guards who came with you to go get Bucky’s clothes. You managed to hide from the crowd and get to him in less than a few minutes.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the spacious library. Shirtless, hands in his pockets. And with his signature smirk on.

“That was quick.” He sounded amazed, “Can’t away from me for long, can you babe?” he tilted his head to the side and gave you one of his famous smirks.

You rolled your eyes at him and handed him the shirt and tie on a hanger. “Seriously, get dressed.” You wouldn’t lie, you did check him for a few seconds because sure he was an annoyance, but he had a body to die for. Abs, Adonis belt, a sinful trail of hair starting from his lower stomach all the way down to-

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, stare all you want.” He sounded cocky once he caught you checking him out. He leaned in closer, “I’m all yours.”

You sighed again, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh please. I don’t have time for young, immature boys.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles and turned around to leave. But he stopped you again.

You turned back around to face him as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “What?” you sounded like you were done with him.

He didn’t say anything, he just lifted the tie up to your face and gave you another idiotic but somewhat adorable grin.

Of course, you should’ve known he couldn’t tie his own tie. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he didn’t know how to knot his own shoelaces. You grabbed the black tie and walked up to him, throwing it around his neck and stepped up closer to tie it into a perfect knot. He stared at you the whole time.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he pointed out, with a big smile on his pretty face.

You glared at him, then looked back down to focus on getting the knot right. And he spoke up again, “I said, you’re really pretty y-,”

You cut him off. “I heard you the first time. I’m seven years older than you, so quit it.” you clarified, thinking the age gap would be a turn off for him. But it was quite the contrary.

He smirked when he heard that you were older. “That’s hot.” He commented, and honestly you expected no less from him. You glared at him again and he casually wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. So close that his lips almost touched yours.

You tried ignoring how your heart fluttered.

“I have a gun on me right now, I suggest you behave before I do something we both regret.” You spoke monotonously, as always and he just smirked.

“I get all tingly when you threaten me like that, babe.” He was incessant.

You abruptly tightened the tie way too much on purpose and his eyes widened for a second as he struggled to breathe for a moment. You pulled his face closer to yours by tugging on the tie. “Enough.” You whispered, looking him dead in the eyes and making it just a little uncomfortable for him to breathe.

You let go of him after a few seconds and walked away without another word said. And once again, he didn’t shut up when he should have. “You look even better when you’re walking away!” he called out after you and it took you all your willpower not to turn around and punch his perfect, chiseled face.

---

As you expected, Bucky didn’t give up trying to annoy you. Even days after the party, he wouldn’t stop following you around and annoying you at all times. But you had to put up with it, because you knew that the closer he is to you, the better you can watch over him. But oh God was he annoying.

He lazily walked over to the couch where you were sat at in the living room one afternoon. You were replying to some emails for work, and filling in Bucky’s dad at the same time. Of course, through text you made it seem like his son was perfect and well-behaved, when in reality… well, not so.

Bucky sighed dramatically, trying to get your attention but you purposely didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so you kept typing. He groaned and plopped down right next to you on the couch, and you didn’t have to turn your head to look at him to know that he was shirtless again, with that damn smirk on his pretty face.

“I’m bored.” He complained, whining like a child and he was sat so close to you that he was almost leaning on you. He casually placed his hand on your knee and you immediately slapped his hand away.

“Bucky, I’m working.” You said, using your ‘don’t disturb me’ voice. But he didn’t care. He never cared.

“But I’m bored.” He whined again, and took the liberty to just shut your laptop while you were clearly in the middle of some serious work. You didn’t want to waste energy on telling him off so you just closed your eyes, calmed yourself down and turned to face him finally.

He grinned like he won something. “Okay. What do you want?” you asked, keeping a polite face on so as not to give him one of your famous resting bitch faces.

He smirked. “You.” he answered with a wink and you rolled your eyes at him. And he quickly mumbled an apology that he didn’t mean and sat up straight. “Okay, let’s go out. I need to buy some stuff.”

You stared at him with a straight face, and sighed; agreeing. “Fine.” You stand up and walk towards your temporary bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to change.” You replied, without turning around.

He smirked to himself. “You don’t need to look extra pretty for me. I already like you quite a lot.” He didn’t get a reply this time, not even a glare. He just heard you sigh really loudly and slam the door of the bedroom shut really loudly. He chuckled to himself.

He waited for you at the stairs by the front door. And he had his sunglasses on so you didn’t see the way his eyes widened when he saw you step outside in another outfit; a bit more casual than your usual suits.

Black, long-sleeved turtle neck with a grey colored pleated tennis skirt. You looked… hot.

“Staring is rude.” You sasses once you noticed he was indeed eyeing you up and down.

He smirked as you walked past him and got down the stairs, making your way to the car which was waiting for the two of you.

“Didn’t take you to be a skirt kinda girl. You’re more like a sexy suits and guns kinda girl. I mean, I love it.” he took the liberty to comment on your style.

You stopped right before you got into the driver’s seat and faced him with another fake smile. “Yeah well, it’s practical. You can’t see the handgun in my thigh holster, can you?” you smirked and got into the car.

Bucky took a few seconds to process everything. As if your appearance and you being out of his league wasn’t torture enough, now he had the image of you with a thigh holster permanently in his brain. And oh was that doing things to him. He didn’t even know he liked older, badass women until now.

Now, he was crushing on you harder than he intended to.

He was just as audacious and flirty in the car as always. He said he wanted to shop so you took him to the chic and expensive part of the city; where the rich kids usually go to spend mommy and daddy’s money.

Sam and Peter were in the car as well. Because Bucky was unpredictable, and you could always use more security guards around him given he was an absolute man-child. And to annoy you even further, as you walked beside him from store to store, he held your hand in his.

You would always let go of his hand, but he’d reach out to grab it again tighter each time and at some point you gave up and let him hold your hand. Again, you couldn’t have him wander off on his own so the closer he was to you, the better. Sam and Peter followed you two, trying to blend in as much as possible.

Bucky kept carelessly buying everything that fit his aesthetic; shoes, watches, jackets and everything else he didn’t bother checking the price tags of. And while he was being a difficult client, trying on everything and making a mess, you just stood there on your phone – occasionally looking at him and rolling your eyes at how extra he was.

“Do you really need that many shoes and watches?” you complained, stepping out of yet another store and already making your way to the other one. You were getting tired, and you weren’t a women who quite like shopping in general, so Bucky was just too much.

“Hey, don’t judge. I have a rep to maintain, besides I…” Bucky kept talking as you entered the next very expensive looking boutique, your hand still in his but you zoned out completely as you caught the stare of another pair of familiar blue eyes right upon stepping into the building.

Steve.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him so unexpectedly. But then again, it wasn’t too surprising because he was a man with expensive taste as well. You lingered around Bucky while he looked around, but all your attention was on Steve – who stared at you. Or maybe he was staring at Bucky more.

Eventually, Bucky grabbed a ton of clothes and went on try them; leaving you behind. Sam and Peter were right outside in the car, but that meant that you were alone inside the spacious store and there was nowhere for you to go as Steve began walking towards you. For a second you debated stepping out and joining Sam and Peter in the car while you waited for Bucky, but it was too late, Steve was too close by the time you thought of it.

You panicked, but you had perfected the calm and composed face so you put that on as he got closer and closer. You knew there was no way you could avoid him now.

“Y/N, hey.” He greeted you with a smile.

You returned him a fake one. “Steve, hello.” You kept your voice steady and monotonous, not letting your irritation and uncomfortableness show.

He stepped closer like he was an old friend, invading your personal space like it was nothing. Then again, he never cared much about you. “How come you’re here? You don’t even like shopping.” He pointed out, surprising you with how he still remembered that little detail about you.

You maintained the fake smile on your face and crossed your arms over your chest out of habit. “Yeah well, people change Steve.”

He chuckled dryly. “Is it that boy you came with? Did he bring about that change?” he asked, clearly jealous and bitter – like he always was.

You smirked. “That’s none of your business.” You were still calm but you could see it in his eyes; his anger slowly building up.

He scoffed. “What, you’re dating young boys now? He looks too young for you, seriously Y/N.” Steve commented, rudely and stepped closer to you – forcing you to take a small step backwards. “You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” he whispered, reaching out to twirl a lock of your with his fingers.

You didn’t know what to say to him, but luckily you heard Bucky’s voice speak up behind Steve.

Bucky stepped out of the changing room with the piles of expensive jackets and sweaters he intended to buy and he stepped out with a grin, excited to see you roll your eyes at him. He enjoyed annoying you for some weird reasons. But his smiled morphed into a frown the moment he saw another man standing too close to you.

Bucky dumped all the clothes on the couch nearby and stared at the guy. Slightly long hair, facial hair, dressed in a sharp suit; the good looking bastard was talking to you, and Bucky didn’t like it. He approached the two of you, eavesdropping like it’s no one’s business.

“…You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” the guy said, while toying with a lock of your hair.

The audacity, Bucky thought to himself, I haven’t even touched her hair yet.

“She doesn’t need anybody. Now back the fuck away from my girl.” Bucky said out loud, not bothering about whether the workers heard or not. They probably did given they were most likely eavesdropping just like he was.

The guy turned around to face him. Bucky was ready to throw punches but the guy didn’t initiate anything so he kept his calm as well. But on the inside he was raging. He wondered why he was so bothered by some other man talking to you. Maybe, he liked you a lot more than he thought.

The guy scoffed and walked away without another word said, probably choosing not to make a scene. Once he left, Bucky looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you. And surprisingly, unlike Steve’s proximity, you didn’t mind Bucky’s.

You nodded and refused to look him in the eyes. He understood and grabbed your hand and walked out of the building and into the car.

After an exchange of drivers, all of you made your way home. You were quiet, as always, focusing on the road. But Bucky was quiet as well, which was weird. You wanted to comment on it, but you decided not to. It wasn’t uncomfortable anyways.

A few minutes later, he spoke up.

“That was Rogers, wasn’t it? Dad’s business rival?” he asked, referring to Steve.

You nodded.

“Do you… Is he… how do you… I mean, he’s-,” Bucky struggled to find the right way to ask you about how you know Steve like that. So you cut off his rambling and answered the question he truly had.

“He’s my ex.” You said.

And then the silence was back for a few minutes. Sam and Peter pretended not to be in the car.

Bucky spoke up again, “May I ask why you broke up? It’s none of my-,”

You cut him off and answered again. You had nothing to hide, besides, Bucky sort of saved you back there. “He wanted me to quit my job, and stay at home and have his children. But I wanted to work and settle down later in life so… yeah.” you simplified it as much as you could for him.

He nodded slowly, before scoffing loudly. “Well what an ass! He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone worth being with you would be so fucking proud of what a badass woman you are. And how well you do your job and manage all of this all on your own. I mean, you’re beautiful as hell too and I-,”

You cut him off again, with a genuine smile and shaking your head at him. “Alright, alright enough buttering me up. What do you want?” you asked, smirking.

He gasped dramatically. “What? No, I meant what I said. You’re beautiful and amazing and badass.” He truly meant it. He hadn’t realized he admired you so much. He had never felt like this, so to lighten up the mood he added, “But since you’re asking, can I please go out with my friends tonight, alone?” as expected, he asked with an adorable face.

The kind you have problem saying no to. But you absolutely had to.

“No. Your dad strictly said no parties, no clubbing, no coming home drunk. You’re not in uni anymore, Bucky. When you’re dad gets back, you will join the business and someday, you’ll take over. You need to start acting responsible.” you repeated his dad’s words to him and he almost whined like the spoilt brat he is.

“But it’s not a party.” He argued. “I won’t get drunk.”

You turned to look at him briefly. “What is it then?”

“It’s a thing.” He replied. This man was seriously a 5 year old child.

“What thing?” you asked in your serious voice and he sulked.

“Just a thing.” He said, looking down at his lap. Just looking at him would tell you that he hadn’t heard ‘no’ a lot in his life.

“No. And stop sulking, you’re twenty five years old. Act like it.” you announced your final decision that he’s not allowed to leave the house alone. Definitely not for a party.

And you expected him to listen and not make things more difficult for you. But you should’ve known that Bucky wasn’t one to behave.

---

You woke up around 2 a.m. to countless messages, missed calls and emails. Your phone kept going off non-stop so you decided to check it. Some of the other members of the teams kept sending you screenshots of paparazzi pics of Bucky at some illegal car race taking place in the outskirts of the city.

And you were confused for a minute, because hours ago he said he was going to bed. You grabbed your phone tightly in your hand and jumped out of your bed, and ran upstairs. Your rapid footsteps on the stairs seemed to have caught Sam and Peter’s attention as well because they happened to be right behind you when you rushed into Bucky’s empty room.

He wasn’t here. He must’ve snuck out to go to a freaking car race!

“Why didn’t the alarm go off?” you turned to face the two guards and they looked at you sheepishly. Oh this was bad.

“He must’ve turned it off before leaving.” Peter answered, just as worried as you were. All of your jobs could be at stake here. But of course, the spoilt brat didn’t care about any of that.

“I don’t care what it takes but find him. And bring him home. I need to make a few calls and have these pictures taken down before his father finds out. Go, now!” you raised your voice a little and Sam and Peter rushed out of the room. And a few seconds later you heard two cars leaving the property.

Meanwhile, you were worried sick and angry and scared. You grabbed your phone and proceeded to disturb a lot of people who could help you take these pictures down before Mr. Barnes finds out.

You also made a mental note to have a talk with Bucky when he does eventually come back home. You would try not to lose your temper, but it seems like he needs to be given a lecture about all the things he’s not allowed to do. Disabling the alarm and sneaking out for example.

You promised you would keep your calm. And that you would talk to him without losing your temper. But the minute he walked into the house, at around 6 a.m., accompanied by Sam and Peter who somehow managed to find him at some beach and dragged him out of a party and now brought him home.

You saw the smirk on his clearly somewhat drunk face and your anger took over.

“Hi beautiful.” He said, smirking and then pointed to both guards, “You sent a search party, looks like you missed me.” He sassed.

And you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your anger could be seen on your face as you marched towards him rapidly, and out of nowhere grabbed him by the collar threateningly. You were livid. And Sam and Peter chose to stay out of this one because oh boy, you weren’t one to mess with when you were angry.

“When the hell will you fucking learn, huh?” you yelled in his face.

He was still sobering up thanks to the coffee Sam got him but even he knew that he had messed up this time by the look on your face. He was surprised at how physical you were. Part of him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but feel a rush either. He was torn between scared of what your anger will entail, but also being turned on a little.

“Where the fuck have you been? Your dad specifically asked for you not to go out on your own because he has not been seeing eye-to-eye with a lot of people lately! And there is a lot more people than you think out there who could be after you just to hurt you and mess with your dad!” you yelled and Bucky was surprised.

He didn’t know this. Neither did Sam and Peter or the rest of the guys. Mr. Barnes trusted you immensely, so he told you some of his dark secrets. This was one of them, which is why he was so strict regarding the rules Bucky had to follow now that he was back home. And this revelation shocked everyone in the room.

You tugged on his collar a little more, and his body jerked forward a little and he was surprised at how physically strong you were. But he still didn’t say a word. “Do you know how many phone calls I had to make to take those pictures down and make sure your dad doesn’t find out? But you don’t care, do you?”

Bucky felt a pang of guilt at your words.

“You don’t care about anyone else but you! You are a spoilt, selfish brat! I know you’re not used to it, but at least try, damn it! Try and care about your dad’s reputation, about our jobs which involves taking care of your ungrateful, stuck up ass!”

He had never felt so guilty before, nor had anyone ever dared to point out his mistakes so vividly like you did just now. And you weren’t wrong, Bucky never cared about the consequences of his actions. Let alone about how his reckless habits could affect someone else.

“Disabling the alarm and sneaking out, look I don’t know who the fuck you think you are Bucky, but you sure as hell aren’t a kid anymore! Fucking act like an adult!” you yelled again.

He hadn’t thought, before sneaking out, that if anything bad does happen; you might lose your job. Not just you, but all the guards and everyone else in your team. And now he was ashamed.

With one last tug, you let go of his collar and panted, trying to control your breathing and anger. You stepped away and pressed the top of the bridge of your nose; already feeling a headache forming due to all the stress. You ran a hand over your face, sighing in relief that he was home but also in annoyance at how childish and careless he could be.

“Now go shower, get some sleep and sober up.” You looked up into his ocean blue eyes which showed nothing but guilt and shame, as they should. “And for fuck’s sake, stop making my life a living hell.” You spat bitterly and turned around to walk away.

You still had a lot to do and take care of today, and this day began with a rough start and you didn’t even get a good night of sleep. And it was barely even 7 a.m. yet, to say you were cranky would be an understatement.

You had extra work to do today, given Bucky’s previous rebellious actions. Along with the usual work load you had, which made today extra hectic and your mood was off as well. Your team had dealt with the paparazzi situation wonderfully. Mr. Barnes didn’t know a thing. But that didn’t mean that you were on speaking terms with Bucky.

You saw him less than usual throughout the day. Once in the kitchen, where you were making coffee and he dropped by to try and talk to you but he saw the look on your face and turned back around without saying a word. Then another time when you were in the living room, and he walked by without saying a word. The tension between the two of you was real.

He felt so guilty that it seemed like it was eating him alive. Plus, he hated how your mood was shitty all because of him. He wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. He didn’t know how to, because he never had to. But he knew he should. Because he messed up big time, driven by his arrogance and recklessness.

He hated how you were mad at him. He realized that these past weeks, the highlights of his days has been getting your attention and watch you roll your eyes at him, and replying to his sarcasm with even more sarcasm. Now his day just seemed dry and empty, and he wanted so badly to make things right.

You weren’t exactly ecstatic after yelling at him like that either. Usually your days consisted of shaking your head at Bucky’s silly messages and replying to none of them, or trying so hard not to laugh at his terrible jokes, and allowing him to hold your hand in his whenever you were out. You wouldn’t lie, you did miss his harmless mischief.

But he had to be told off. He was getting way out of hand.

You turned in for the night earlier than usual, and right when you got out of the shower someone knocked on your bedroom door. Forgetting that you were in your bathrobe, you rushed to open the door thinking it might be one of the guards coming to tell you that Bucky had run off again.

But you were somewhat surprised when you found Bucky himself standing on the other side, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You didn’t say anything, you let him feel the awkward silence, and he deserved it. But then it got way too quiet so you spoke up.

“Don’t you own a shirt?” you asked, leaning against the door frame and eyeing his perfect body. He was shirtless again, what’s new.

Bucky tried so hard not to look at your cleavage, but he failed miserably. “I do. I just thought that if I look hot enough, you’d maybe forgive me quicker.” He voiced out his inner thoughts shamelessly.

You sighed. Guess he’ll never grow up, huh?

“Is this how you apologize after almost fucking up all of our lives and jeopardizing my job?” you asked, sarcastically in a monotonous tone for extra effect.

He sighed and looked down. Bad idea because now he got a good view of your legs peeking through the slit of the robe. He was once again, torn – debating between begging for your forgiveness or just say ‘fuck it’ and lean in for that kiss he’s been desperate for since he saw you.

He went with the latter.

Bucky barely gave you time to process anything as he gently pushed you inside the room, shut the door behind him, wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body closer to his as he placed his mouth on yours.

You were surprised, and you knew it was wrong, but you didn’t hate it. He kissed you feverishly, with ardor and passion and everything else he felt for you. He poured it all out through the kiss. Like he was coaxing you into forgiving him.

Bucky’s mouth moved perfectly with yours, his arms tightened their grip around your waist and your hands slid into his hair. You tugged on it gently as he started walking the two of you backwards, towards the bed.

He laid you down on the mattress and climbed on top of you, still not breaking the kiss. And you had to admit, he was a great kisser. He nibbled on your lower lip before pushing his tongue past your lips; gently stroking the top of your mouth while his hand slowly undid the knot at the front of your robe. Once it loosened enough, he reached out to grab your left breast; squeezing it and making you whine under him.

He smirked through the kiss. He had been waiting for this for way too long and now he finally had you. Bucky further unwrapped the robe from around your body and toyed with your breasts while he kissed you deeply. And when one of his hands started slowly making its way down your body and between your legs, that’s when you pulled away from the kiss and stared into his eyes; breathless from his kiss.

Bucky panicked. What if you pushed him off now? Or worse, what if he had angered you even more?

But instead, you smirked and pushed him down; flipping the two of you around so that now you straddled him. You settled comfortably around his waist, your robe barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust.

You leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “You put me in a lot of trouble today, you know that?” you whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently with each word and his heart raced.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” he mumbled, reaching up to try and press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly.

“Sorry doesn’t make it better.” you spoke sternly. “You’re still a spoilt brat.”

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist; your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” he sassed and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating as you reached out to slowly traced his mouth with your finger.

He bit his lip as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs; so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body.

“You need to learn how to do as you’re told sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips back up his body, making him squirm just a little and you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Understood? Or do you need to be taught?” your tone sounded a lot more stern that you intended.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He nodded rapidly, trying to hide his smirk as the look on your face let him know that he was in for a ride. “Think I need to be taught.” He whispered, looking into your eyes to find lust, and hunger – same as his.

You smiled at his answer. Of course he did. “Very well then.” And without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “Keep them there.” You ordered.

But as usual, he didn’t have the habit of listening so he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.

He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the black tie on your bedside table, his smile faded but he felt all tingly and his body throbbed in anticipation.

You grabbed the tie you had carelessly thrown there a day or two ago and carefully tied his wrists together. The cool, silky fabric against his skin made his heart skip a beat. You then secured his wrists to the part metal part wooden headboard. Your breasts were right in his face as you did so but he didn’t mind it.

Once done, you straightened your back to get a good look at him; beneath you, tied up and lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his famous puppy dog eyes. But no matter what, he wasn’t getting out of this so easily this time.

Oh no, you were planning on messing with him and toying with him until he can’t physically take it. And that’s exactly what you did.

You took off his sweatpants, and underwear then finally your robe. And as you did, his cock erected even more; standing proud and tall. Bucky’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet.

“Think you can always have your way, don’t you?” your voice barely above a whisper as you settle on his right thigh. You bit your lip the minute you felt his warm, smooth skin press against your wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine.

Bucky watched you ride his thigh slowly; lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.

You pressed both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin and he bit his lip as he watched you; breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself cum.

He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting up a show just for him. He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste.

Bucky’s cock was leaking embarrassingly by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.

“Please…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth.

You smirked as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Please..” you mocked him, chuckling. “You’ve always had things handed to you on a platter. You’ve never known patience, or how to ask nicely, have you?” you smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue. “Well you will today.”

You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost whimpered as he closed his eyes and relished your touch. He felt thick and hard, and big. You lazily stroked his length, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly; leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked on Bucky’s skin around the base of his throat; making him shudder in pleasure and moan sinfully.

You pulled away after a while to look at him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and with his lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth; completely under your mercy. You smirked at how pre cum started dripping down his cock, and you knew that he was getting more and more desperate by how he kept murmuring please…please…please.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” You teased, knowing damn well you wouldn’t let him cum so easily.

Bucky groaned and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock into your hand but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of his length. So he just let you toy with him however you liked, he took whatever you gave him.

“Please… please make me cum.” He whispered, voice strained and weak.

You chuckled as you felt him twitch in your grasp. “No.” you simply said and released him, leaving him right on the edge. He was still hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gently kisses on each side and you heard him groan and squirm.

You smirked and kissed your way up his body. Eventually making your way up his body so you were straddling his face. Your hips wrapped around his head as he looked up at you. None of you minded the intimate position, he was just happy to finally touch you again. Bucky looked up at you with hunger in his eyes. And you smirked as you lowered your wet core to his mouth.

Bucky wasted no time, his mouth latched onto your clit and his tongue took in whatever you gave him. He worked his mouth at your entrance like his life depended on it. Sucking and licking and shoving his tongue past your wet folds, he ate you out like there’s no tomorrow, occasionally moving his head side to side.

You moaned out loud, throwing your head back as one of your hands held the head board for support and the other tangled in Bucky’s hair. His tongue worked wonders against your sensitive clit, making you feel all tingly and warm as you dripped all over his mouth.

“You taste so good…�� he murmured against your wet folds and you very gently rolled your hips against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lips and chin; he licked a hot, thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, with his teeth grazing it until he had you moaning loudly against him.

Your hips bucked against his face as he licked each and every drop of what you gave him. He closed his eyes and hummed loudly at your taste, making you whine and for a moment, you forgot that you weren’t supposed to be giving him the satisfaction. He was just that good and skilled with his tongue. Bucky adored the sounds you made above him. He even forgot that he was himself, throbbing with need. He was just hell bent on making you cum all over his tongue.

He had been fantasizing about this, about having your thighs wrapped around his head and to taste you and make you cum all over his tongue. And you soon realized that you were letting him have his way, so you pulled away quickly.

Bucky’s eyes shot open, “No please… I want more,” he complained, whining as you moved away from his face and kissed your way down his body again. And he was giving you the puppy dog eyes again. You almost gave in but you weren’t entirely done with him yet.

He whimpered as you slowly kissed your way down his body again; down his neck, across his bare chest and all the way to his thick, erected cock. Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. And he moaned out loud, mindlessly. You placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip.

You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked handsome, completely at your mercy.

The gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. His breathy moans, his soft gasps and the way he whimpered at your touch – it made you feel even more powerful than usual. He moaned and panted; murmuring your name over and over again, begging you to speed up already and make him cum. Bucky relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often.

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth; licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. Bucky moaned, his voice cracking; making him sound weak and desperate.

He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.

Bucky lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him; making him swear under his breath and groan. You lean in and caress his face, looking him deep in his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight; all muscular and strong, and handsome but tied to your bed at your mercy. You chuckled and leaned in to bite his lip, tugging on it as you pulled away, surely making him lose his mind.

You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time. Just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you and watched him whine and smirked at his helplessness.

“Come on, ask nicely.” You teased. “Beg.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth; lips hovering above his parted ones. You leaned in to kiss his open mouth carelessly. And in that moment, he was ready to do anything for you, to please you.

“Y/n… please...” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again; he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it.

At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you; messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. You messed with him for as long as you could, and Bucky got loud, very loud; growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment.

Just you. Only you. He was yours; yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.

You eventually gave in; seeing he was physically worn out. And you fucked his brains out, making him cum in no time. Your walls clenched around him; gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely at your mercy, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast after you were done with him. You kissed his chest, murmuring how good he was.

“Now, will you finally learn how to behave and do as you’re told?” you gripped his jaw gently, and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke. His hands were still tied, and sore and they were itching to just reach out and touch you.

Bucky nodded frantically. You smiled.

He stayed in your bed long after you two were done. He was clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree, shamelessly using your bare chest as a pillow. Your hand ran lazily into his hair and you smiled at how warm he felt. Sure, he was a tall and muscular man but he snuggled up to you like a child. You could feel his warm puffs of air hit your skin each steadily. You thought he was asleep but then he spoke up.

“Are you awake?” he asked, voice groggy and strained; deep.

“No.” you answered and waited for his reaction. And a few seconds later he lifted his head up to glare at you. You giggled at the face he made. After giving you a dirty glare, he got back to using your breasts as a pillow.

“Will you go out with me?” he spoke up again, asking you out.

“That’s not appropriate. I’m your dad’s employee.” you were starting to feel the day’s fatigue take over you slowly. You yawned right after speaking.

“Yeah? And what about what just happened? Is that appropriate?” he asked.

You sighed. “Go to sleep Bucky.” Truth is, you didn’t know what this was. But you wouldn’t lie, despite being annoying, it was hard not to love him.

He didn’t say anything. He pulled you closer and got on top of you, pinning you down on the bed this time. “Do you not like me?” he asked.

“I do! Get off, you’re heavy!” you giggled as he put all of his body weight on you.

“Then take responsibility for your actions. You stole my heart and now I’m in love with you.” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone which made you laugh. “Look I’m hot and cute, it’s hard being both. I am smart,” he was listing and as soon as he said smart, you raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “I have a university degree to prove it, okay?” he resumed listing his qualities. “I’ll keep you away from crazy exes, and I will get you a puppy if you w-,”

You cut him off with a kiss. He sure was adorable. “Okay, okay stop.” You mumbled against his lips. “Your dad’s gonna kill me if we date.” You groaned thinking about what would happen if Mr. Barnes finds out.

Bucky kissed you deeply, then pulled away to look at you. “No he won’t. Dad likes you. Even if he tries to, I’ll protect you. I’m very strong as you can see.” He mumbled, pushing his face into the crook of your neck and making you giggle given you were ticklish.

“A big baby is what you are.” You corrected him. He chuckled.

“Please just give me a chance. I really, really like you.” he said, sincerely.

You gave it a thought. You liked him too. “Okay.” You said. He pulled away and smiled down at you. “I like you too.” You spoke again and Bucky leaned in to kiss you again.

Little did you know that giving him a chance would end up being the best decision you ever made…

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut

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falcqns · 4 years ago

Text

Over Again

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader, Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: Part two to To Be So Lonely. You work with Tom again, and is forced to face Henry.

Warnings:

A/N: Here’s part two! Hope you enjoy!

Said I'd never leave her

'Cause her hands fit like my t-shirt

Tongue-tied over three words, cursed

Running over thoughts that make my feet hurt

Bodies intertwined with her lips

The next few years with you and Sebastian went great. Both you and Sebastian had issued a statement discussing what had happened, as well as Henry. The media was all over it for a few weeks, but eventually, it died down. Henry was able to maintain his role on The Witcher, but you had heard that things between him and production were a little tense. He hadn’t made any more movies, and rarely appeared at public events, such as award shows. You felt bad for the way he was being treated, but Sebastian reassured you that its what he deserved.

You and Sebastian had gotten married, and had a 2 year old daughter named Lerae Georgeta Stan. You continued to work, doing big projects such as a few Marvel movies, and quite a few Tom Cruise movies. When Tom called you and asked if you wanted to be in the new Mission Impossible, you said yes. He had told you that Henry would be appearing well, but you insisted everything would be fine. Henry had seemed very remorseful the last few years, and you weren’t one to hold grudges. You’d have scenes with him, but Tom assured you there would always be another person in the scene with you at least.

Sebastian was happy for you, of course, but he was still nervous. You understood his nervousness, and when he asked if him and Lerae could come with you, you agreed. You hadn’t ever left your daughter, and you weren’t planning on it anytime soon. You didn’t want to be one of those ‘celebrity moms’ who never see their children.

You arrived in England a few weeks after getting the role, and you, Seb, and Lerae found an apartment which was close to the set, and planned to come to set whenever they could. Seb still wanted Lerae to experience a normal childhood, and explore London, so he planned on taking her out to do “Daddy - Daughter” activities in the city.

You had arrived on set the first day of shooting, without your husband and daughter. They were supposed to come, but Lerae threw a huge tantrum the night before out of pure exhaustion, so Sebastian decided it would be best to keep her home for the day, so you were on your own. You had worked with some of your co stars before, and the ones you hadn’t worked with, you had met previously. Working with Tom Cruise had its benefits. You didn’t see Henry, but everyone else was there.

Now she's feeling so low since she went solo

Hole in the middle of my heart like a polo

And it's no joke to me

So can we do it all over again?

Just as you were finishing up in Hair and Makeup, Henry walked through the door. Every one said hello to him, but you just gave him a nice smile, to which he didn’t return, his eyes averting to the ground. Everyone was finished a few minutes later, and then it was just you, Henry, and the hair and makeup artists. You were about to say hello to him, when your phone rang. You answered, and your heart dropped.

“I have to go back to the States today,” Sebastian said, and you heard him sniffle. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“What? Why?” You asked.

He sighed before talking. “Apparently a good 20 minutes of footage is unusable because the files on the camera card corrupted, so I have to go back to reshoot. I’m so sorry.” Sebastian said, and you heard him breaking down over the phone, and your daughter asking why her daddy was crying.

“Sweetheart,” You said gently, and noticed Henry’s face get even sadder. “It’s okay. Bring Lerae here, and you head back. I can manage her on my own for a few days, okay?” You said, and Sebastian calmed down.

“O-Okay. I’ll bring her in about an hour.” He said, and you nodded.

“Sounds good. How long will you be gone?”

“Only about a week. I’m just feeling bad because we just got here,a dan now I have to leave you alone to parent in a whole new country while shooting a movie.” He explained, and you chuckle. “We’ll survive. We’ve had weeks alone before, dont worry, okay?”

“Okay.” Sebastian said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Te iubesc,” You said.

“Și eu te iubesc,” He responded, and he hung up.

Your hair and makeup was finished soon after, and you headed out of the trailer. Henry’s eyes followed you out, but didn’t say anything. You walked over to Tom and explained the situation, to which he was very understanding.

Not too much later, Sebastian sent you a text saying he was here, and you walked over to meet him at the entrance to set. His eyes were still red and puffy, and Lerae was clinging to him for dear life, obviously afraid of the big burly security guards.

“Hi sweetie,” You said, and your daughter reached out for you. “Hi, Mama,” She said, before she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Hi other sweetie,” You said as you turned to Sebastian, who smiled as well. “Hi baby,” he said. He gave you a sweet kiss, and handed you Lerae’s diaper bag. She was mostly potty trained, but did tend to have accidents sometimes, just like a normal two year old. Seb then wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into his chest. Lerae giggled, and rested her head on his chest too.

“We’ll be okay, my love,” You whispered, and he nodded.

“I know. I just worry sometimes.” He said and you nodded. “It’s okay.”

He sniffled again and pulled you two closer. “I should go, or I’m going to miss my flight, but I’ll call you when I land, okay?” He promised, and drew your lips in for a kiss, which made Lerae gag. “Ew, Dada!” She exclaimed, hiding her face behind her Winter Soldier bear. Sebastian chuckled, and lifted her out of your arms.

“be good for mama, okay? Dada will be back on Sunday,” He said, and she nodded. “I pwomise Dada. I be good.” Sebastian smiled, and hugged her to his chest. He pressed kisses on her cheek, which she returned, and then she was handed back to you. The three of you said your goodbyes, and you two watched as Sebastian walked away.

“Okay, honey. We’re going to go to my trailer and play there until Mama has to go film.” You explained as she wiggled out of your embrace to walk on her own. “Otay Mama. I see Uncle Tom?” She asked, as she gripped your hand and you two made your journey to the trailers. “Yes honey, we can go see Uncle Tom in a little bit.” She nodded, and you watched as she gazed around at the buildings on set. She had been on set’s before, but she was always so interested. You and Sebastian had a suspicion that she is a star in the making.

You two passed the makeup trailer just as Henry was coming out, and you smiled at him. He gave you a sad smile in return and retreated to his trailer to wait to be called to set. You two walked inside your own trailer, and Lerae climbed up on the couch to take her shoes off.

The two of you were able to stay in the trailer for a few more hours, her colouring, and you rehearsing lines, before a PA knocked on your door and told you they needed you on set in 20 minutes. You got changed into your costume, and Lerae gasped as she saw what you were wearing. You had a yellow sundress with white flowers on it, with matching yellow ballet flats.

She scrambled up, and gave you a hug. “You so pwetty, Mama.” Your heart melted and you lifted up your little girl. “Thank you, baby. Let’s get out shoes on and head to set, okay? We get to see Uncle Tom!” Lerae giggled, and slid out of your grasp. She got her shoes on and gripped her “Bucky Bear” in her hands, and followed you out.

You were reminding her that when the cameras are rolling, she has to be quiet, and sit in your chair nicely, when she squealed. You looked up, and saw Henry. “Mama! Supaman!” She exclaimed, and your stomach flipped. “Yeah, baby, that is Superman. Maybe if you’re nice enough, he’ll say hi to you,” And she nodded with a determined look on her face.

Henry noticed you, and then his eyes drifted down to Lerae. He smiled, and gave her a wave. She then decided to take off running to go say hello to one of her favourite superhero’s. You followed after her, and smiled when Henry finally talked to you.

“Hi, Y/N,” He said, giving you a tentative smile.

“Hey. Listen, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. It’s been 3 years since then, and we’ve all moved on. I’m sorry for what my friends did to your career. I never wanted that to happen.” You said, and he smiled warmly.

“Thanks. And, you don’t have to apologize. What I did was horrible, and I deserved what happened. I don’t blame you, or anyone. I was actually hoping to a police to Sebastian about what happened, but I guess he left,” He said, glancing down at your daughter who had her face smushed against his leg, and gazing around the room.

“He’ll be back Sunday. He feels really bad too, so I think you two talking it out is the best thing.” Henry nodded, just before Tom came up and scooped up his niece.

“Hey, you two. We’re about to start. I’ll watch her.” He mentioned, while tickling her belly, and you thanked him, before moving to start filming.

If you're pretending from the start

Like this with a tight grip

Then my kiss can mend your broken heart

I might miss everything you said to me

The rest of the week went well, with Lerae glued to Henry. You two hadn’t had a moment alone to actually talk, but Michelle and Rebecca came into your trailer and insisted that they could watch your daughter so you could go talk to him.

You knocked on his trailer door, and heard a faint ‘come in!’, so you entered. He smiled at you as he was petting Kal, who ran up to you.

“I was hoping to actually talk to you about what happened.” You said and Henry nodded. “Me too.”

You sat down on the couch, and pet Kal, while Henry sat next to you. You took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m really sorry. If I had known how you were feeling, I wouldn’t have mentioned it, or at least brought it up in a different way. And I definitely wouldn’t have talked about him as much as I did. I was just in love, and wanted to tell everyone about him,” You said and Henry nodded.’

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I guess I built up how our first meeting would go in my head, and then I got angry when it went in a completely different way. Sebastian told me how excited you were to work with me, and on The Witcher, and I instantly felt bad. I wanted to come and apologize but you were gone, and the damage was already done.” He said, his eyes down cast.

You scrunched up your eyebrows. “How bad was it after?” You asked.

Henry looked up at you. “I got screamed at. By everyone. Anya, Freya, Joey, Lauren, and Director, everyone. Anya, Freya and Joey didn’t talk to me for a god two months afterwards, and everyone else was extremely harsh on me. My agent and manager said they had never seen someone act the way I did, and that they were considering dropping me. Thankfully, they didn’t, but it was very tense for a while. I’ve never seen my parents more angry at me. I honestly thought they were going to disown me. Once I had made my statement, I couldn’t find work. Until this movie, I was relying solely on The Witcher for income. Which, is okay while were filming, but the cheques aren’t as big after filming wraps. I thought for sure that I’d lose this role too when you found out, but I’m very thankful that I didn’t.”

You smiled sadly. “I don’t hold grudges. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, and everyone’s moved on. We’re all good. And don’t worry too much about talking to Sebastian. Knowing him, he’s going to try to apologize for getting me first,” You joked, and Henry laughed.

“You two seem happy. Sometimes I wonder if we could have been that happy,” he remarked sadly, and you nodded.

“Maybe in another life. But, we’ll never know.” You said, and Henry smiled.

“I’m just happy that we can be friends,” He said. “You’re daughter seems amazing. What’s her name?” He asked, as he gazed out the window where she was playing tag with Rebecca and Michelle.

“Her name’s Lerae. It means ‘strong and brave’, which she is. She was born two months premature, and she fought like hell the entire time.” You explained, your eyes drifting to her. She was running around, her blue eyes reflecting off the sun. You could see so much of Sebastian in her.

“She’s the real superhero. Not me,” Henry said and you chuckled.

“Sebastian says the same thing.”

You'll never know how to make it on your own

And you'll never show weakness for letting go

I guess it's still hard if the seed's sown

But, do you really want to be alone?

The film went smoothly after that. Sebastian arrived on Sunday, and him and Henry had a good talk, which resulted in them making plans to go to a Rugby game with some of Henry’s friends. After that game, they became really good friends. Chris and Anthony forgave him as well, and the four of them were great friends.

Lerae loved her Uncle Henry, and she loved Kal. Her daddy may be a Marvel hero, but she always had a soft spot for Superman. Henry remained involved in her life. He came to every birthday party, every dance recital, and eventually every movie premier when she grew up. He got her her first acting job at the age of 7, on The Witcher. After that, she was hooked.

You and Sebastian stayed together through everything. You gave him a son, named James Anthony Stan, when Lerae was 4. The two were inseparable, much like you and Sebastian.

Even though you and Henry remained friends, he always loved you. You’d notice it sometimes, wether it be in the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice him looking, or the way he treated your children. Sometimes it wasn’t as noticeable, and you’d think it faded, but then you’d catch his eye in the right light and you saw it again.

The love.

If you're pretending from the start

Like this with a tight grip

Then my kiss can mend your broken heart

I might miss everything you said to me

And I can lend you broken parts

That might fit like this

And I will give you all my heart

So we can start it all over again

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #fluff #august walker #chris evans #mission impossible #geralt of rivia #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan man you lookin good #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #tom cruise

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years ago

Text

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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By Any Other Name (12)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: the moment of truth 🌹series masterlist 🌹

It was pitch black outside; the only light surrounding you from the stream of your headlights and the cast of stars gently illuminating your path huddled by acres of trees. The countryside was untouched by the pollution of the city and it was almost unbearably quiet amongst the woods, with only low hum of your engine and the faint chirping of crickets outside the crack of your car window to fill the emptiness around you.

The ink hastily written on the scrap of crumpled paper curled up in your hand was smudged. You couldn’t quite make out if it was a six or an eight in the address, but your GPS had long abandoned you several dirt roads ago, so you supposed it didn’t matter much anyway. There was nothing else around for miles.

When you finally pulled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse, there was no relief. It looked like something out of a horror film. The paint was chipped on the walls, the name of the metalworks company faded under years of weathering and neglect, tiles of the roof were gathering in piles on dusted, dirt roads. There wasn’t a single light in sight.

You swallowed as you turned off your engine. The headlights stayed on, reflecting on the single silver door. It was rusted along the hinges and looked completely untouched.

You had half a mind to call James to help ease the steadily increasing rate of your heartbeat, but he had been very clear when he asked you to turn off your phone and leave it behind at home. He couldn’t risk anyone tracking your location, so he said. He was acting so strangely lately, but you could sense the heaviness weighing on him.

You didn’t have much in the range of weapons in your car, not that it would have done you much good, but you stuck your keys between your fingers as you pushed open the side door. The air was brisk, sending a chill up your spine as clouds of dried dirt puffed up in clouds with every step you took. You crossed in front of your headlights until you paused in front of the warehouse.

With a heavy inhale, one you weren’t sure you’d let go of anytime soon, you turned the rusted knob and locked your car. The lights flashed off, leaving you surrounded in darkness.

You quickly hurried inside, more afraid of the darkness of the countryside than the unknown of what laid beyond the door. The slam of the door to its hinges behind you was louder than you prepared for and you winced as it echoed through the rafters.

You glanced up to find a group of people stood at the center of the room, all huddled over a long metal table filled high with piles of papers. Their heads turned abruptly in your direction.

One of them separated from the crowd, relief evident on his face as he quickly jogged in your direction; hair bouncing around his shoulders with every step, a half smile on his face though it struggled to reach up by his eyes. Ocean blue, and swarming in something darker, something pulling him under.

James.

But it wasn’t him you were looking at.

The inside of the warehouse was like something out of one of those spy movies Peter used to marathon on Saturday nights. The walls were lined with monitors, some filled with maps of the city, others with profiles and mugshots of men you recognized as friends of your husband, but the one displaying live security footage outside of your home caught your eye.

You could see the driveway, the row of plain, well-kept bushes lining the pavement, the lights on above the garage. One of the security men you snuck past was on a lap around the perimeter and stopped to take a drag of his cigarette before he tossed the butt unto the grass.

An unpleasant shiver swept up your spine; cold and detached, and it nestled deep into your stomach.

“What the hell...” you exhaled, hardly able to take it all in.

You felt a hand graze your arm and you flinched, shocked by the sudden touch before you realized who was behind it. You turned to find bright blue eyes watching you cautiously as James chewed on the healed scar at the center of his bottom lip. He glanced sadly down at your hand, noticing the keys nestled between your knuckles and you quickly released them, slipping them into your pocket.

“I’ve got a lot to tell you,” he said quietly and there was a slight tremor in his voice, a nervousness, as he looked back to the group of people watching him from the metal table ahead of them.

“James, what’s going on?” you asked and he forced a smile to his face, one that was meant to reassure you, though he could hardly muster it.

“Come with me. I promise, I’ll explain everything.” He extended his hand to you, open and waiting, patient, and you studied the lines in his palms, lines you’d come to be familiar with, and suddenly you weren’t sure if you knew much of anything at all.

Still, you took his hand blindly as he guided you further into the room. He pulled out a chair for you at the table, just ahead of a particularly high stack of papers. You didn’t say anything as you glanced around at his friends and took a seat.

The tall, blonde man with broad shoulders and the clear line of muscles visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt wore a slight frown on his face, though the way his eyes drifted to James protectively suggested he was concerned more than he was angry.

Beside him, slumped down into a chair of his own, was a dark-skinned man with a large, toothy grin, and dimples in cheeks. He smiled at you, like he knew something you didn’t, and you suspected that was more than the case because he was almost giddy with excitement, shifting in his seat and stealing looks at James.

“We don’t have much time before Rumlow finishes up in Harlem,” a red-haired woman to your right said.

You narrowed your eyes, recognizing her short, rounded nose, pointed stare, and perfect curve of a cupid’s bow on her lips outlined in dark red. She was familiar -- they all were -- like you’d seen them in passing but couldn’t place exactly where.

She pointed to a monitor behind you and you turned to find grainy footage of your husband sitting in at a table surrounded by men in suits you recognized from one of the dozens of parties he’d dragged you to over the years. It was from a Chinese restaurant in Harlem you got takeout from once with Peter. You gritted your teeth as you watched him clap a hand on the man beside him, throwing a wad of cash onto the table.

James nodded to his red-haired friend, pulling up a chair in front of you and turning it to face you properly before he took a seat.

“Where am I? Why am I here?” you asked tensely, unable to tear your eyes away from the monitors. You watched as one flickered from your living room to the hallway outside your library, to the staircase leading up to your room. Empty, haunted, in your absence.

A ruffle of papers to your left stole your attention and you found yourself staring at the blonde man with a file rifling through his fingers. A picture of your husband slipped out from the center and fell to the table. Even in his mug shot, his eyes held a kind of possessiveness, an arrogance, that transcended the page.

“Why do you have security footage of my house and—and Brock’s old RAP sheet?” your gaze flickered to the man sitting in the chair, watching you with a familiar kind of look in his eye, and then to the woman who was busying herself behind her laptop. You turned to James. “Who are these people?”

You could feel your breaths increasing in pace, the panic that was starting to take hold, but you stifled it down, buried behind closed doors and cement until it suffocated under the surface and all that remained was a vagrant stare and a jaw wired to stone.

James brushed his lips over with his hand, a heavy breath before he spoke again.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t really know how to say this.”

“Try,” you muttered out, voice like sandpaper.

You didn’t realize your hands were clenched onto the bottom of the metal chair until your fingers started to ache. James’ eyes wavered down to your grip and he nodded quickly. Your heart was pounding so painfully, you wondered if he could see the thump of it through your chest.

He dug his hand into his pocket, let out a breath that looked near painful, and slowly set a shiny, golden badge onto the table. The shine of it reflected in the dim lighting of the warehouse. You dug your hands into the metal edges of the chair until you felt a sharp burn.

“My name isn’t James Karpov,” he exhaled. Blue eyes flickered up to yours, gaging for a reaction on your face he wouldn’t find. He glanced back nervously at the blonde man pacing behind him before he continued. “I’m a special agent with the FBI and I’ve been undercover in Hydra for over a year now.”

Your features hardened over like stone, a protective layer to shield the surge of a storm thundering inside of you; the answer to a question you’d been suspecting for a while without realizing it.

You’d seen the way he flinched at his own name, how he got that kind of solemn look in the blue of his eyes when you talked about your husband, about wanting to escape it all, how he’d promised for things to be different when this was over, if he had more time. Pieces started to fall together and somehow you were still more lost than you’d been in years.

He paused, watching you, waiting for a flicker of the woman he knew to break through the blank stare currently consuming your features, but when nothing came, he let himself exhale. You focused on the soft footsteps of his friend pacing along the wall behind him. It was comforting to use his steps as a metronome, something to ground yourself because you could feel your world pulling apart at the seams.

It was a single string at the very edge of everything you knew. It only took a moment for it to unravel, within an admission of a name that was not his own, and soon the floor at your feet was covered in the broken pieces of what you believed to be true. Tattered and tangled threads.

“It started after Jack Rollins was murdered in lockup. I was assigned to this case to gather evidence against Rumlow and his men, so that we could dismantle Hydra completely; prevent it from ever coming back again,” he continued, his voice even, almost matter-of-fact, and it didn’t sound much like your James at all. It was too clinical, too rehearsed, and you could feel the sharp twist of a knife embedding itself deeper into your chest with every word he spoke.

You listened quietly as he told you of when he first learned your name on a single page in the back of your husband’s file, how he’d known who you were before you even stepped foot into Brock’s office that first evening. He told you how he’d been assigned a cover, a new name and a history, to replace the role of Jack Rollins within Hydra as their enforcer. He’d been Brock’s right hand man for over a year and he was playing your husband like a fiddle.

“Director Fury thought it would be beneficial to the case to, um,” he released a heavy breath, as if the action in itself hurt him, “…to get close to you. He thought you might know more about Hydra’s dealings than you realized and he’d hoped you’d open up to someone who, um, you trusted. Seems he was right.”

You didn’t allow him see the way your heart caved in; jaw clenched, impossibly still, even breaths, and yet the floor had dropped from under you and you were free falling a hundred feet below. Lost to an abyss from which you were certain you’d never return; darkness barreling in and taking you home. It was where you belonged, wasn’t? It was where you had lived for years. Back to the fractured sense of safety, to the shadows lurking in the corner, to the eggshells under your bare feet made of broken glass. To lies and manipulation and deceit and ruin.

You wondered when it happened, when he’d been officially assigned to claw his way into your heart as if you were nothing but a pawn in the scheme of his mission. You wondered if it was before or after he’d gifted you A Farewell to Arms and if it was even his at all; if the scribbles in the margins belonged to his youth or if it was the carefully constructed design of an analyst with the sole purpose of hooking straight through your heart and sinking you to the ocean floor.

That moment was the beginning of it all; when you showed him your library, your most sacred place to a stranger, but it had felt so right at the time.

Was the first moment you’d felt safe with him a complete lie?

There was always a comfort in being with him. A place for you to let down your guard and the walls you held up like stone around your heart. Beyond everything else, the one thing you knew about James Karpov was that he was safe. His presence was the only thing that allowed you to let go of the fear of the shadows of you home and the monsters lurking in the corners. He was a shining light in the darkness that had consumed your life.

You were young and naïve when you met Brock. You were eager for love and fell easily into his carefully constructed trap, overlooking obvious warning signs and the flaws of a man obstructed by the character he played.

For only a moment, you wondered if it had happened again, if you had become so foolish to allow yet another man to manipulate you and spin himself into the version of a man you’d desire until he could rip the floor out from under you just to see you squirm.

A pang burned in your stomach, something stubborn and instinctive, one that urged you to just look at the man in front of you, to notice the way blue eyes nervously sought out your own, to see how his hands were trembling and his voice was strained, to notice that he was scared with every word he spoke. But your world had fallen apart and you could only do so much to stifle the scream bubbling its way through your chest.

So, you held your tongue as he told you about the orchestrated meetings in Brooklyn, how his friends -- his team -- had helped plan what you thought were coincidences but turned out to be carefully constructed operations. Moments when you’d light up upon seeing him, a wash of warmth to your chest on even the coldest winter mornings, and it was a lie.

You realized then why you recognized his friends; it was from the outskirts of coffeeshops, sitting under sunglasses and baseball caps, hiding behind newspapers in the distance. The quiet observers in your life pulling away at the last shreds of dignity you had.

“I was assigned a job,” James said tensely, clenching at his hands, wringing them painfully in his lap as he stared down at the cement under your shoes, “no different than jobs I’ve had before. Take on a new name. Be a new person. I’ve done… terrible things to preserve my cover, things I am not proud of. I’ve hurt people because Rumlow ordered me to. It was part of the job. I kept telling myself that, anyway. Didn’t seem to matter that I never killed anyone he put a hit on, that the Bureau stepped in to relocate my targets and hand me a look-alike that was mutilated just enough so Rumlow could have his proof and I could keep my cover. The blood on my hands is still real.”

There was a lump in your throat, one that burned and ached and was on the verge of choking you completely. You wanted to scream, or cry, or run until your legs gave out completely, but instead, you were paralyzed. Frozen in place. Stone of a statue. A single touch would crumble you.

“But you have to know it was never an act with you, Y/n,” he urged, desperation in his voice. You could hear the grief in his words, the slight tremor in the dissonance, the fear that you might reject him in favor of a man who does not exist.

You could hardly meet his eye.

He paused, watching you for a moment, waiting, longing, for you to tear your stare away from the wall beyond his left shoulder, hoping you’d find your way back to him as you always did, but you gave no inch. You held yourself still, unreadable, and he exhaled a breath that must have weighed immensely on his chest.

“After a while, I started meeting you in Brooklyn when the team wasn’t around, when there was no one to listen in and no agendas to fulfill,” he started, a little softer now as he slumped back into his chair. “I started staying at the mansion long past when I should have, just reading with you in your library because it was the only place I felt like myself anymore. I started forgetting that on Sundays in Brooklyn, I wasn’t who I said I was. You don’t know how easy it was for me to spend time with you and just let myself believe for a while that I really was James Karpov…”

Jaw wired shut, clenched, and you did not respond.

He sighed, a careful look back at his team and he continued.

He told you about the red-haired woman, Natasha, who turned out to be the sales associate from the boutique downtown where you’d bought the lavender dress. She smiled at you in acknowledgement when the heat of embarrassment stung in your cheeks.

You realized that the two men were the same Steve and Sam he’d tell you stories about on your Sundays together; old friends, brothers. A single grain of truth in a web of lies.

“I knew, even before the gala, that my feelings for you had started to cloud my judgement,” he said slowly, laced with guilt, and your gaze flickered up to him, surprised, though he didn’t notice. You watched the shame seep into his features, his hands clenching at his pant legs. Steve and Sam turned away awkwardly as he continued, “I nearly told you everything that night. When we danced on the balcony and we almost--”

Kissed.

You remembered it well. You had committed the night to memory; to the way his hands felt pressed so delicately to your hips, the gently sway of your bodies, the subtle scent of his shampoo and how warm his breath was as it touched your skin. It was a dream, a fairytale, and you wondered if it was just that; a moment meant for the stories in your library, far away from the cruel realities you’d come to know.

James sighed, a hand brushing over his forehead, pushing away the hair from his eyes and exposing the blush in his cheeks. He was staring down at the floor, chewing painfully on his lip. He didn’t notice the way your features had started to soften, your lips slightly parted as you watched him, heart racing.

“I didn’t know how to make it stop… the way I felt about you,” he confessed, a pained kind of humor in his voice. “I’d never compromised myself like that before. I’d always been able to separate myself completely from the case, where a mask and a new identity like a costume and manipulate my targets without remorse, draw on their strings and tug at their levers. It was my job.”

You flinched; subtle, but as you unclenched your jaw you noticed a pair of green eyes watching you from behind a sweep of auburn hair. She smiled encouragingly before you turned back to James.

“But I never did that with you, Y/n, I swear it on my life,” James pressed, raking his fingers through his hair though it fell back into his eyes. “You… you found a way to push yourself through the cracks in these walls I built up and brought out pieces of myself I hadn’t seen in years. You made me smile again, and gave me something worth fighting for outside of my own damn ambitions, made me believe in a world where things could be different – kinder, maybe. You made me want to be myself again instead of these characters I so often lose myself in. You made me want to relearn who I was and stop hiding in the identities of my enemies.”

He rubbed at his eyes, pinched at the bridge of his nose, and exhaled a breath that provided no relief. “Steve almost threw me off the case entirely when he found out I’d started crossing lines between my cover and the man I wanted you to know me as.”

Your heart skipped at that, eyes flickering up to blue and you watched as he struggled to find his words. He was breathing heavy, hands constantly raking through his hair and there was a slight shakiness as he clenching them back into fists at his side. You’d never see him like this before. Scared.

“Please understand, I couldn’t tell you any of this,” he sighed, scratching his nails along the thighs of his jeans. You noticed rather quickly that he stopped trying to meet your eye. “You have no idea how much I wanted to, how much it was fucking killing me that I couldn’t, especially after--”

He clenched his teeth, stopping himself before he could say it, but you knew what he meant; the night he’d put himself on the line for Peter, how he’d kissed you through broken lips and everything changed. It was evident in the way his friends turned away, giving him space, red tips on the end of Steve’s ears.

“The director thinks I’m a damn fool for bringing you in on this,” he continued, “but, I trust you, Y/n, even if I just destroyed any trust you had in me. I know you and I know you want to see Rumlow brought to justice. I know you want to be free of him and for Peter to be out of Hydra’s control. I still know you and... despite all this, I promise, you still know me, too.”

He seemed to have finished as he allowed a deep, unsettling silence take over. You could vaguely hear the soft ticking of the clocks hanging high on the wall and the exhales of breath coming from across the room. He glanced back at his friends nervously, who offered him nothing but clenched jaws in return, before coming back to you.

“Say something... please,” he asked timidly, desperately.

There was something unpleasant churning in your stomach and you weren’t sure what it was; dread, humiliation, betrayal. Maybe it was something more like the edge of relief, so close you could just barely touch it but it wasn’t yours quite yet. Just beyond your fingertips but still there, still visible, waiting.

You swallowed, letting your hands unclench from the chair and you looked up to find his friends busying themselves with the paperwork on the table; various files on your husband and the company he kept.

You glanced over to the door, the weight of your keys heavy in your pocket. There was a pull urging you to the door, whispering in your ear like a siren’s call to leave, to run and never look back, and fall straight into the darkness you knew. It was familiar at least; a demon you knew by name.

But as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, watched the way he hung his head in shame, accepting the worst of his fears that in your silence you’d rejected everything you now knew him to be, that call urging you to run seemed a little further away. Drowned out by the overwhelming urge to draw him into your arms, you could no longer hear the voice beckoning you away from the man you’d come to adore, perhaps even love, even if he was a man you weren’t sure you truly knew at all.

“I can’t, um, back off the case,” he started, clearing his throat as his words seemed to give out before he could continue, “but I can give you space. You won’t have to see me unless I’m around your husband. I’ll do what I can to keep my distance but—”

“Stop.”

He froze, head lifting abruptly at the sound of your voice. It was then you realized his eyes had glossed over, reflective with unshed tears, his lower lip nearly chewed raw.

You held his gaze for a moment, searching for the man you knew him to be within the shades of blue you’d come to know so well. The darkest part of yourself wondered if there were pieces that reminded you of your husband in there, if he held the same qualities that allowed Brock to manipulate you and lure you into a false sense of security and love and affection before he ripped it away.

But you’d seen the way James smiled at you from across the room. You’d seen the way the lines around his eyes wrinkled when he laughed. You’d seen the kindness nestled into every touch upon your skin, a warmth in his embrace you hadn’t known in years.

You’d seen grief consume him; pain and the guilt sweeping over his features as he told you the truth of who he was. Facets of a complicated man who was more than just one thing; subtle moments one could not easily fabricate.

James was not just the man who lied to you. He was not only a man with a name you did not know and a history wiped clean. He was also the man who reminded you what it was like to laugh again, who reminded you that you were stronger than what Brock led you to believe and that you carried more worth than what your husband assigned to you. He was a man who took a beating that could have killed him to spare your sixteen-year-old cousin and gave over every Sunday he had just to listen to you talk and run errands around Brooklyn.

He was messy and complicated, flawed but human. In the years you’d fallen under Brock’s spell, nothing your husband ever faked even compared to how James treated you. Brock had made himself to be perfectly designed, an impenetrable lie.

James had been the one to break through his cover of his own volition. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose in doing so; the case, his team, his career... You wouldn’t dare allow yourself to wonder if you were within that list.

You took a deep breath, steadying your gaze. “I have questions.”

His eyes widened, surprised, but he nodded quickly, brushing his palms on his thighs. “Anything. Anything you want to know. Just ask.”

“So… you’re not Hydra." It wasn’t a question, but you were still seeking confirmation.

“No,” he confirmed quickly. “I’m not.”

“You’re not a hitman. You don’t kill people because Brock tells you to.”

“I’ve killed,” James replied sincerely, “but never for him. I was an army ranger before I was recruited by the FBI. I don’t take a life unless I have to.”

You nodded, trying to find your ground again now. Those were the easy questions, ones with answers you already suspected to be true. It was the next ones you were about to ask that held answers you were truly afraid of. You pushed out a deep breath through your lips, though it trembled on its way out and you felt the shake of it deep in your lungs.

“The copy of A Farewell to Arms… was it yours?”

The question startled him, eyes narrowing for a moment before a soft smile curved at his lips. “Yes. Sam made fun of me relentlessly for digging through my ma’s house for it. I can’t say it had nothing to do with the assignment, because you did open up more after that but... I didn’t do it just because I thought it would help our case. I just thought you'd like it.”

You nodded, taking in his answer. It didn’t relieve the ache in your stomach, but it was something. A piece of the beginning was still intact.

“How much of it was real?” you asked, surprising yourself. The words stumbled out before you could stop them and it wiped the smile from his face almost instantly. It was like a punch straight to his gut, the wind knocked out from under him.

You swallowed, gripping painfully tight into your sweater and trying to avoid ocean blue eyes and the curious stares of his friends. You needed him to say it, needed to hear it out loud, or you might collapse within yourself entirely.

“The times you’d call late at night and we’d watch dateline over the phone or when we bought the lavender dress downtown or dancing on the balcony at the gala. All you did for Peter, every Sunday we spent together... Tell me it wasn’t just for the cover... to get closer to me so I’d tell you secrets about Hydra I didn’t know I had. Tell me it was real... that it was really you and not some character you played. Tell me you’re real. Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until James – not-James – threw himself down to his knees in front of you. His hands reached up to your thighs before he froze, hovering, because he didn’t know if it was okay to touch you anymore.

“Sweetheart, please, look at me,” he begged. He finally sat his hands against your thighs, just in an effort to ground you and when you didn’t flinch away, seeming to relax as your heart rate softened, he began to trace delicate patterns with his thumbs.

“Everything -- and I mean this -- everything was real between us,” he implored. There was a redness in the whites of his eyes, a subtle tremor of his lower lip as he tugged it between his teeth. “There were some circumstances that allowed me to run into you when maybe I otherwise wouldn’t have, that let me spend more time with you, but I swear on my life, nothing I ever said to you was scripted, nothing I ever felt for you was forced. Every second I spent with you was the happiest I’ve been in years. I won’t lie to you again. Not ever. Please believe me when I say that what I feel for you is real. It's always been real.”

Sniffling back tears, you let him brush a hand up over your cheek to wipe the wetness away. His lower lip tugged between his teeth in concentration, purposeful to keep the rough edges of calloused palms from touching your skin. He was so gentle, so tender with you, and it was entirely your James, even if he wasn’t.

“It was real, honey. The important parts, those were all real,” he whispered, his voice so achingly sweet it made your heart clench. There was a desperation in his voice, like the very foundation of his soul was etched into every word, his heart sitting within the dissonance. “I am still the man I was yesterday. I’m still him, sweetheart. You haven’t lost me.”

He smiled sweetly at you, though it didn’t quite make it up to his eyes. No, his eyes were filled with a remorse that consumed him whole. The guilt always sitting on the surface, the hesitation in his hands but the longing in his stare, the pain in the pleasure; it made sense now.

When you set your hands on his forearms, it startled him, his eyes darting down to where your touch met. Without a word, you let your hands wonder along his arms, sliding up his shoulders, his neck, to finally cup the sides of his face. Rigid muscles relaxed as you passed them by, his body caving into your touch with ease as his eyes fluttered closed, like he was sinking into the palms of your hands.

You just needed to feel him, remind yourself that he was real, that he was solid and tangible, and right under your fingers. The slight bristles of his beard scratched under your palms, the wrinkles of a shirt creased in his drawers, the divots in his skin from old wounds.

You let out a heavy breath, grazing your thumbs along his jawline, over the healing scar on his right cheek and the discoloration that had long faded to a soft, light pink. Marks of a man who was everything you always believed him to be.

“I don’t know what to call you,” you confessed, a whisper of a smile touching at the edges of your lips and you felt it in your palms as he choked back a sob of relief, jaw trembling under your touch.

He nodded, his hands coming up to rest on your own as he turned his head just slightly enough to press a kiss to the heal of your palm. His eyes were red and glossy, but there was a smile on his lips; it was aching and tired, but it was swollen in relief, like yours.

“For now, just call me James.”

You shook your head. “It’s not your name.”

“It is, actually,” he countered, with a nervous chuckle. He gently pulled your hands from his face and set them into your lap, though he didn’t let go. “It’s technically on my birth certificate and it’s just a coincidence this identity and I shared it in common, but it’s not what my friends call me. It’s not what I want you to know me as when this is finally over.” He paused, a deep breath in a beat later, “I would... I would give anything to hear you say my real name.”

You took in a deep breath, trying not to focus on the gravity of what he said, but it hit like an anvil to your chest. You wondered what his name was, how he might act around you without Brock hanging over your shoulder, how it would feel to be with him in the light of day; no restrictions, no hiding in the shadows, nothing holding you back from one another.

“You… you still want this— us— when the case is over?”

James paused, a sad kind of heartbreak in his eyes that you would even ask such a question. He nodded slowly before he lifted your intertwined hands to his lips and kissed sweetly at your knuckles. “I told you, honey, everything between us was real. I’d give you my whole life if you asked.”

A tear slipped past your eye as a breathy laugh escaped you, a strange mixture of awe and surprise and relief washing through you. You stayed there with him, reveling in the feel of his hands encasing yourself, the touch of his lips to your fingertips, watching as he started to come back into himself, as the guilt faded from his eyes and he was smiling at you with that flicker of light in in the blue of his eyes.

James pulled up a chair beside you, freeing his knees on the hard, cement floors, and you tugged yourself closer to him; thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He was still yours.

“So, what happens now?” you asked, glancing to the papers on the table curiously.

“Now,” a voice called from behind him, deep and commanding, and Steve stepped forward, setting a file on the table ahead of you, “you help us bring down your husband.”

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued, and pulled the file into your lap. You thumbed through the pages, eyeing the transcripts, glanced over names of men and women, over the date in the top left corner and the address of the pier scribbled in James’ handwriting.

You set the file back on the table. “You’re planning a raid for the shipment at the end of the month.”

It wasn’t a question and Steve seemed surprised by how quickly you’d gathered that from the information he presented you with. There was no doubt in your mind, you’d do anything they asked if it meant putting Brock behind bars where he belonged.

“What do you need from me?” you asked, hand seeking out James’ and he squeezed it back lightly.

“That we’ll decide when the opportunity presents itself,” Steve responded. “In exchange for your help in this and frankly, all the evidence we’ve gathered based on your unknowing intel… uh, James,” Steve cleared his voice, clearly having to remind himself to use the cover’s name, “has arranged for your immunity.”

Wide eyes met his and he offered you a shy, reassuring smile. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You always assumed that the price it took to bring your husband down meant sinking the ship with you inside. You knew he held a number of charges over your head; it was why you stayed complicit for so long. But now...

“You just have to sign the papers,” James said, sliding a pile of folders across the table to you. There were two stacks and you looked at the second suspiciously before James answered your unspoken question. “I got the judge to sign off on immunity for Peter, too. It was part of my condition before I handed over the shipment log for the raid next month. Wasn’t that hard of a sell, honestly. Peter’s a good kid.”

Lost for words, heart pounding tight in your chest. “You-- what?”

James nodded casually, a slight purse of his lips like he hadn’t just doused you in a relief you hadn't known in years. “Yeah, well, no jury was ever going to convict him anyway, but I figured it was best to cover our bases. I told you I’d watch out for him, didn’t I? Wasn’t going to let you down on that promise. Plus, a kid as good as Peter didn’t deserve to be caught up in all of this. The judge could see that pretty easily.”

He was smiling softly at you but you could hardly breathe. You knew he cared for Peter. It was obvious the night he took a brutal beating for your cousin, but this was something else entirely. This was something far beyond his cover, the identity he wore like a mask, this was him at his core; a man who was true to his word, a man who was decent and kind and good.

He was your James, regardless of his name or the badge he wore.

Without the proper words to thank him, you surged forward, despite his friends standing at the table surrounding you, and kissed him. Hands pressed to his cheeks, lips communicating what words could not, and you only pulled away when you felt him searching for a breath.

His cheeks were burning pink, eyes a little wide as he nervously glanced up at Steve, who had conveniently turned his back. Natasha was smirking in the corner as she attended to the files in her hands, and Sam was sprawled out in the chair across the table, sparing no expense and grinning wildly as he winked at James.

“So, we bring down Hydra,” you said with a proud smirk upon your lips and James’ whole face seemed to light up. “We put Brock behind bars. We end this.”

Steve stepped out from behind the shadows, a hand extended in your direction. Stone cold expression melting into a soft smile, the blue of his eyes kinder than the façade he put forth.

“It’s good to have you on board, Y/n.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you

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backdraft-bimbo · 4 years ago

Text

couldn't say just how I love you

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why, he settles; convenience.

Words: 1699

Chapters: 1/1

ao3 link

Sam squints across the shrimping boat as Bucky fiddles with his forearm. He’s barely made an inch of progress with it, yet the guy hasn’t asked for any help so far. It’s kind of ridiculous since Sam–the Falcon for crying out loud–is over here with two capable hands, ten beautiful fingers, and a proficient enough background in engineering to fix Bucky’s shit for him.

Broody Mcgee is either a whole ‘nother level of stubborn when it comes to accepting help, or he’s just a shy person, which Sam finds to be a hilarious deduction. Who the hell’s ever heard of a shy ex-assassin? Plus, this is the same guy who went chuteless out of a plane, flew face first into the trees, and had the wind knocked out of him–with all of it caught on camera. But for some reason, Bucky never asked Sam to delete the footage (before Redwing bit the dust), so he really doubts it’s a pride thing.

Maybe Bucky just needs a push.

“Do you even know what you’re doing over there, Buck? ‘Cause it doesn’t look to me–“

“No, I got it–“

“–like you know what you’re doing. You want some help?” Sam offers, raising his hands placatingly. “No shame. I worked on Redwing for years, so I’ve got my hands around tech before.”

Bucky grips his bradawl tighter, digging rather aggressively into his bionic arm. “No, seriously . I’m fine.” Sam cringes; he’s definitely doing more damage using one hand for repairs. The wires are all crooked in the part where the Flag-Smasher kicked it in–much more internal damage than Sam expected coming out of that skirmish.

“You are a stubborn man–and I don’t just mean that metal arm you've been poking at the last hour. I think the arm is the most agreeable part of you. It doesn’t complain any time I try to help it.”

Bucky groans, slamming his bradawl back on the boat table. “If I say ‘okay’ will you shut up already?”

“Definitely not,” Sam grins. “But your annoyance is noted.”

“Have you ever dealt with vibranium? ‘Cause if not–”

Sam stops him. “You had a titanium arm before, right? The one with the commie star on the shoulder?”

Bucky grumbles out an affirmation.

“Perfect,” Sam says, “how different can they be?”

A look of mild alarm crosses Bucky’s face. It’s kind of hilarious. “Well–”

“Forget I asked,” Sam says cordially, fully prepared to keep messing with Bucky. The guy is just so easy sometimes. He jogs over from the boat’s rusty bow pulpit and slaps his hands together. “C’mon, man, what’s up with your weird ‘I’d rather die than let Sam help me’ attitude?”

Bucky fleetingly glances at Sam, then back at his mangled arm, and furrows his eyebrows in that way he does whenever he’s deliberating whether or not to share something. Sam is unfortunately so used to Bucky shutting down that it comes as a surprise to him when the guy actually speaks up.

“It’s just frustrating, okay?” he says, voice rough and gravelly. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna be used to only having one arm.”

Sam sobers up a bit. So that’s why.

“I just...wanna be able to fix this shit up to prove to myself that, y’know...that I can do it.”

A few seagulls squawk overhead as Bucky’s words sink in. Sam doesn’t know why he’s never considered the possibility that Bucky might not totally be over losing his arm. Hell, Sam feels kind of foolish for missing it; he used to deal with soldiers coming back from war zones missing a limb or two.

“Nah, man,” Sam says after a thoughtful pause. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that, and Sam doesn’t expect him to. The guy silently shifts his bionic arm so that Sam can sit down and work on it, side-eyeing him like he’s weighing whether or not he should have said anything. I guess decades of being a Prisoner of War and brainwashed HYDRA assassin will do that to you, Sam meditates.

He and Bucky have had their share of falling outs. Hell, just a few days ago they were promising to take separate long vacations apart. They both said shitty things. So what? That doesn’t mean Sam can’t feel for the guy. He catches himself occasionally ruminating all that Bucky has been through and finds that he can’t go too long without needing a break. But that’s Bucky’s life; ain’t exactly like he can just take a pause from it. It sort of breaks Sam’s heart in a way he can’t explain; all those years Bucky can’t get back...

“Sam?”

Sam blinks, not realizing he’d been staring. The shadow of a smile has crossed Bucky’s face.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with the staring problem.”

Sam shakes his head, blinking some more. Geez. What were they doing again?

Bucky looks at him half-expectantly, half-amusedly. He gestures loosely at his arm. “Go crazy, man.”

“Right. Right, the arm.” Sam grapples with the tools splayed out on the splintery table, trying to recall what he needs with an odd sense of urgency. Why the hell is he forgetting everything? Last time he checked, empathy isn’t supposed to instill this kind of reaction.

“Take your time,” Bucky says... nicely? And all right, that’s another Bucky-related thing Sam has to set aside for later. It’s an extraordinarily long list, but Sam’s got shit to do right now. He exhales deeply and focuses all of his attention on the job before him.

It’s easy to get into a rhythm. The slight breeze and white noise waves blend together as Sam zones in on Bucky’s arm, the two settling into a comfortable silence. The atmosphere is sublime for fixing broken things–the Wilson family shrimping boat always seemed to do that. Sam wonders if Bucky feels it too; maybe it’s just his own nostalgia. Whenever Sam thinks of his parents on deck, laughing and telling anecdotes to their relatives...it makes Sam feel like an invincible kid again. He can do anything as long as he can tap into those memories.

When the wires start looking right, Sam can’t tell how long it’s been since they started. The freaking sea, man. Gotta be more careful next time. The sights and sounds of the shore are too hypnotic; before you know it, the seagulls have left and the sun is already setting on the horizon. Judging by the dimmer light, it’s probably early evening now.

Sam looks up at Bucky for the first time in what feels like ages. The guy’s resting his chin on his right hand, eyes closed as the invisible fingers of the breeze comb through his dark hair. And wow, he looks peaceful –a word Sam seldom uses when it comes to Bucky Barnes. The profile view is making him notice things, which is probably why Sam is opening his mouth before better judgement can grab him by the collar.

He stops fiddling with Bucky’s arm and leans forward.

“Dude, you got loooong eyelashes.”

Bucky shifts at that, eyebrows furrowing back into their natural state, and the idyllic moment is broken. All right, so Sam can admit that was a random, out-of-left-field observation probably suited for a different time. But give him a break, he’s been looking at wires for like three hours straight. Sam is nevertheless grateful Bucky doesn’t comment on his weirdness. The guy just glances down at his new and improved arm and gives Sam a stoic nod of approval.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Bucky says. “So, uh, thanks.”

“Still gotta test it,” Sam replies, strangely off-put by Bucky’s honesty. But, to be fair, there’s a lot of crazy new stuff happening today. For example, Sam must be getting old, because the moment he stands up from his chair, hoping to get some blood moving, a rush of lightheadedness washes over him, and he’s forced to lean his hips against the table for a second.

He shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Bucky asks skeptically, staring up at Sam with his big blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just test-run this thing, Cyborg Man. I need a nap.”

Sarah must’ve put something in the carrot souffle, because Sam is seriously on a roll with odd behavior today. It might be because it’s Saturday and none of his family are watching, or because he and Bucky aren’t out on a mission for once, but there’s absolutely no justification Sam can think of other than complete self-indulgence for why he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. With his left hand, Sam lifts up the vibranium arm, bends it back and forth, nods to himself, and says, “Looks good.”

For a second, Bucky is craning his neck back, gaping at Sam like he’s grown a second head. As quickly as that expression comes, though, it’s gone a second later, and Bucky returns to his familiar guise of reservation, shifting his gaze to Sam’s handiwork, a faint tint of traitorous red rising to his cheeks. Sam leans forward farther, sighing heavily into Bucky’s shoulder, like they’re already at this stage of intimacy. But Sam lets the fact that this isn’t as per usual blissfully fly over his head, because he’s tired and sore and can’t give a shit anymore.

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why , he settles; convenience.

Bucky just sits there silently and lets Sam lean against him, the exhaustion drooping off his shoulders and into the creaky old wood of the Wilson family boat. He shifts for a second, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Sam is moving up and away, sliding his hands off Bucky’s body, a strange fluttery feeling enveloping him. He tries not to think about how much he didn’t want that to end, or how badly he misses the touch when it’s gone, but–

For another time, Sam promises himself.

Neither of them say a word as they walk back to Sarah’s.

#sambucky #tfatws #fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #ao3 #mine

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Four (final) (nsfw)

Wow. This part is 10,904 words, people. And in total this story now reaches 23,704 words in length!!

I hope you enjoy this part! Obviously, mlm exo(ish in this case) stories always flop on here no matter what, but some folks at least seemed to like it once it got going, and my Patrons seemed to enjoy it too. I really enjoyed getting to know these two boys, and their personalities, so at the end of the day I guess that’s what matters.

Last time, Alec learned that a few members of his immediate family are in fact vampire hunters, and he found out the truth about Sebastien too.

Heads up in this part for continued, but easing, tense familial relations, some angst/heartache (not heartbreak though), and some (consensual) blood drinking.

Thanks to those of you who have engaged with this story! And for being so supportive in general. You've been an absolute pleasure to write for.

Tumblr links to previous parts: Part One (sfw), Part Two (nsfw), Part Three (nsfw)

Alec let out a shaky breath and crossed to the sofa, sinking down onto it as his legs finally gave out. “Vampires,” he said, hardly daring to believe the word he was uttering.

“Yes.”

“And you’re one?”

“… Yes.”

“And my family…?”

Sebastien’s voice was tight on the other end of the line as he said, “Hunts my kind. Well, those of us who aren’t registered with the ‘Guild of Hunters’ —” his tone turned acrid as he spat the words out, though he kept his voice low and quiet.

“What does that even mean? I don’t know what any of this means… And did you know about my family? I mean, before? When you started dating me?”

Sebastien took another deep breath. “Yes. I knew. And it was a long time before I fully convinced myself that you did not.”

If Sebastien had thought it was some kind of trap, that would explain his reticence at the beginning for sure.

“And were you planning on telling me any of this?” Alec snarled. God, his chest hurt so much. The deception was like Jeremy cheating on him all over again, only this time the betrayal was coming from two fronts at once: from his love life and from his family. Not that he’d had all that solid a relationship with the latter to start with. Perhaps this explained why.

“I hadn’t planned on becoming your boyfriend at all,” Sebastien snapped.

“So, what, I was just a quick diversion? A casual fuck you kept coming back for because I’m such a fucking chump? Is that it?”

“No,” Sebastien sighed. “Not at all. I fell for you. Like the horrid cliche I am, the vampire fell for the hunter, and by then I had no idea how to tell you. I’ve not been with a human before, so this is all very new to me.”

Alec ran his fingers through his dark hair to buy himself a moment. “You… You haven’t?”

“No.”

“How… How old are you?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

“Yes!” His phone was slippery in his fingers now from the sweat on his palm but he couldn’t bring it away from his ear long enough to put it on speaker. He needed answers.

With another cavernous sigh, Sebastien said hurriedly, “Very well. I was born in 1897 and turned on the battlefields of the Great War — World War I, that is. I was dying, and a vampire named Felicity who had been working as a field nurse turned me. My first run-in with your family was not long after I moved from France to America. They were working with the American Hunters’ Guild on a case which had nothing to do with me.” He let out a shaky breath and said, “I got in the way and I nearly died. Those were the days before the treaty, of course, and before I moved to England.”

Despite his still-spinning mind, Alec managed to croak, “What treaty?”

“Those of us who get our blood from sanctioned blood banks and do not live-feed are exempt from being hunted like animals.” He spoke like he was quoting from a law code; cold and clinical; detached.

God, the way he said it made Alec’s skin crawl. It was as if he were being permitted to exist on the grounds of good behaviour and, he supposed, that was exactly the case. Even so, Alec couldn’t help the next words that just fell out of his mouth. “So you weren’t planning on feeding from me?”

“Of course not,” Sebastien retorted but then appeared to rein himself in with yet another steadying inhale. “No. It’s been decades since I’ve fed from a human directly. I didn’t plan on starting with you.”

Alec slumped back into the sofa cushions and stared up at the ceiling of his tiny apartment. “Fuck.”

After a long silence, Sebastien’s gentle tenor sounded in his ear. “Are you alright?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve never been close to my family - my dad was always an arsehole, but… I can’t believe Theo’s involved in all this. He was such a sweet kid, and we were really close until…” he swallowed thickly around the rising lump in his throat.

“Until?” Sebastien prompted when he stalled again.

“I can’t believe this is all real,” he muttered. “Until he turned sixteen and started to ‘work out’ with dad. I was at uni by then, getting my fine art degree, but whenever I came home he was just… different. Harder. Sharper. More focused. Guess it makes sense now… Well, as much as… you know…” he gestured vaguely to the empty apartment with his hands, “… as much as all this can make sense. Fucking… vampires…”

After a heartbeat, Sebastien added softly, “Quite literally.”

Despite himself, Alec snorted. “So… where does this leave us?”

Now it was Sebastien’s turn to feel clearly uncomfortable. Eventually he said, “Alec, I don’t think it’s wise for me to see you currently. Not with your family being what they are.”

His heart twisted, even though he’d been half expecting it. “You still think they’d… what, stake you, or whatever it is that vampire hunters actually do to you lot?”

“There are many ways to kill a vampire,” he said flatly. “And your family knows all of them, probably more. You need to work this out with them first as well. Talk to your brother. He seems the more reasonable…”

“I can’t believe Ellie’s in on it as well. And my mother? Fuck…”

“Talk to them.”

“Will I still see you at work at least?”

The awkward silence told him all he needed to know, even before Sebastien said, “I just sent in my letter of resignation.”

“That was quick,” he hissed, stomach dropping. “You only just left.”

“Supernatural speed,” he replied bitterly. “Comes in useful for typing papers and getting out of awkward situations…”

That sparked another question in him. “Supernatural powers, huh? Can you turn into a bat too?”

“No.”

Then he thought of Sebastien’s Halloween outfit. “Wolf?”

He thought he detected a faint smirk in Sebastien’s response. “No, sadly. No shape-shifting for me. Felicity is not of any extraordinary bloodline, and thus, neither am I.”

“Right,” he grunted. “Of course. Is she… is she still around?”

“Felicity? Yes. We meet every now and again. She and her wife spend most of their time in Venice these days.”

“Her wife? She a vampire too?”

Sebastien swallowed audibly. “Yes.”

“Did Felicity turn her too? Would that make her wife your sister?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Did she know her as a human though?”

“Yes.”

After a moment of spinning thoughts, Alec asked, “Did… you turn her?”

“One doesn’t tend to turn one’s own intended. Between a sire and their turned, there can grow… tension. Not always, but it can be enough to ruin a relationship that was seemingly solid before. Something about exchanging blood changes the soul… or so we think, anyway. It was an honour to be asked to sire her.”

“Right.” Alec felt slightly sick. “Will I at least see you before you leave?”

“I think it best if we don’t. Not while your family is still… ‘investigating’ me.”

“Are you really in danger from them?”

“Quite possibly. My name is on the treaty, but…”

Something twanged painfully again in his chest, swiftly followed by the fizzle of fear through his veins. “But what?”

“But vampires and hunters are not supposed to sleep together, Alec…”

“Don’t bang the enemy? How very Romeo and Juliet,” he snorted. “Fuck. Why does every good relationship I have turn to shit?” he asked, not of Sebastien but of the universe itself. “What did I do?”

“Alec —”

“—Don’t. Don’t make it worse by apologising or something. It’s fine. We were only together a month. I’ll get over it. You’ll move on. Heck, you’ll fucking live forever, right? What’s a month to you anyway? Nothing, right?”

The bitterness in his own voice nearly choked him, and without thinking, or even saying goodbye, he just hung up and let his phone lie in his limp fingers on the sofa cushions. It lit up and rang a moment later, but he didn’t answer it. Six more times Sebastien tried before finally giving up.

Kay was an absolute blessing in the next few days.

He didn’t tell her immediately about the whole vampire thing, but after he’d calmed down enough to be able to look at Theo without immediately busting a vein in his forehead, he hashed the basics out with him, and then told her everything. Alec told her about his newly-discovered, secret family occupation which, apparently, stretched back centuries. He told her about the fact that his eldest sister and younger brother were monster hunters in their spare time, and he told her the real reason Sebastien why had vanished overnight without a trace — yes, Alec had gone to his apartment building, only to be politely informed by the doorman that Dr. Dulac was no longer in residence and did not leave so much as a forwarding address.

That, above almost everything else, shattered Alec’s hopes of seeing him again. Like thistledown in the wind, Sebastien had simply flitted away somewhere else.

She took it about as well as he had to start with, but when she saw the seriousness in his eyes, and when, three weekends later, she came to his apartment for a definitely-not-awkward dinner with Theo, she saw video footage that Theo and his father had captured from various hunts of supernatural creatures beyond only beautiful vampires. Then she believed him. Ghouls, ghosts, reanimated corpses, demons… you name it and Theo could tell you about it.

Alec spent Christmas with Kay’s family, and Theo met him for New Year drinks in the city, joined by Ellie. It wasn’t anything like the family dynamic he’d always longed for, but the new degree of openness between them went some way to mending his still bruised heart. Slowly. Gradually. Piece by tentative, honest piece. He never joined in, but Theo started to tell him a bit about what they did. It still sounded barbaric to him, but at least it was true.

He had no word from Sebastien, and the number he had saved in his phone had been disconnected.

With the arrival of spring, Alec found himself more than usually dissatisfied with his job. He was a good teacher, and he enjoyed seeing his students’ talents evolve and grow, but the ever-increasing admin ground him down, and the politics of the faculty and the university as a whole wore on him.

“Have you seen this?” Kay asked one afternoon as they shared a takeaway coffee beneath the drifting cherry blossoms. Petals spiralled down like pastel pink and white wedding confetti, and he watched with an absent smile as a terrier snapped and sprung around on his hind legs trying to catch them while his owner stood and talked with her friend nearby. “Oi!” Kay asked, digging him in the ribs.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen this?” she asked, shoving her phone under his nose.

He blinked, refocusing his eyes, and read the article’s headline aloud. “Council offers artists the chance to win a sponsored exhibition in the town hall with this unique competition.” He blinked. “So?”

“So?” she gawped. “You can’t be serious?”

“Send me the link. I’ll forward it to my students. They might like that.” That earned him a smack upside the head, and he scowled. “What was that for?”

“Alec, you might be the dumbest smart guy I know,” she said. “I showed it to you so that you could enter it, you giant idiot.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“I saw those charcoals you did the other week of the cathedral! They were amazing!! And the abstracts too… I still want one, by the way.”

“It’s already wrapped up for your birthday,” he groused. “You really think I should do it?”

She rolled her eyes and drained the last of her coffee without gracing him with an answer. Of course she thought he should.

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next Thursday,” she said without looking at him.

Alec licked his lips and swallowed. “Will you help me pick some images to submit?”

Her answering grin was feral.

In all honesty, Alec forgot about having even entered the competition until the letter dropped through his door six weeks later announcing that, to his utter astonishment, he had been selected as the winner. Tears blurred his eyes and he sat down heavily at the tiny kitchen table. He’d never entered any of his own art into anything like this in his whole life, and the first time he does, he gets a whole fucking public exhibition out of it?

“Maybe this year won’t be so bad after all,” he murmured. “New year, new start…” His chest still ached when he thought about Sebastien, and he hoped he was doing alright, wherever he was.

Theo had been searching for him, probably by way of apology for lying to his big brother for all these years, but he’d turned up very little. Sebastien had gone to Venice first, it seemed, presumably to spend time with Felicity and her wife, but had disappeared completely after that, with only rumours flickering here and there that he was in Paris, St. Petersburg, Prague, and then potentially Florence. Maybe.

“Venice seems like a pretty sunny place for a pair of vampires to live,” Alec commented, but Theo shrugged.

“They don’t burn up immediately in sunlight, or your professor would never have been able to take a day-job at the university. They’re sensitive to it, some more than others, but it takes a full day of constant sunlight beating down for them to burn properly.” The callousness of his brother’s response shook him, even after all these months, and Theo must have seen it on his face because he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then added, “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Alec shrugged. Yes, he wanted to say. I thought so. “I only knew him for a month or so,” was what he said carefully instead. “And even then… turned out I didn’t know him anyway.”

Theo, who had been lounging on Alec’s sofa with his legs spread and his head tipped back into the cushions while Alec made supper, asked quietly, “Did he seem… normal to you?”

“Normal?” Alec asked, not sure he’d heard his brother correctly.

“Yeah… like… did you ever suspect he wasn’t… you know…?”

“Human?”

Theo grunted and nodded his head. “Yeah. I guess.”

“No. Obviously not. Never crossed my mind. Why would it have?”

Theo scowled and turned his eyes to regard him. Alec knew that Theo looked like a younger version of himself, if maybe in better shape, and he wondered if he’d have the same steely look in his eyes if he’d been deemed ‘man enough’ to become a hunter, or whatever bullshit criteria their arsehole father had used to select which members of his family were to become soldiers and which would live normal lives.

“What?” Alec demanded.

“But you slept with him, right?”

“I’m not talking about that with you,” he said, briefly brandishing the wooden spoon at him.

Theo pulled a face. “I’m not asking about your sex life. Gross. No, I mean…”

In that moment, Alec spotted a flash of something in his brother’s blue eyes that softened him to the kid. He turned off the gas and went over to where Theo was now sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. When he looked up at Alec’s approach, his face showed open vulnerability in a way he’d not seen since they were young children and Theo had got himself into trouble at school.

“What’s going on?” Alec asked, seating himself next to his little brother.

Theo bobbed his knee like a deprived caffeine addict and bit his lip. With glassy eyes, he croaked, “I keep asking myself if we did the right thing…”

“What do you mean?”

The bravado of Theo’s early twenties melted away to become a worried, frightened, guilty little boy again and he said, “I mean… if what we do is right…”

“You mean… hunting?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“What set this off?”

His brother quirked him a humourless smirk and said, “You always did know when something was bothering me.”

Alec remained quiet, just watching him.

“We teamed up with some hunters from Edinburgh for a ‘vamp gone rogue’ case and we finally found her yesterday. She… She’d been turning people; trying to amass some kind of small army to take over from another vampire further up north. She was insane… like, completely, sociopathically insane, but… the people she turned… they were just…” he blinked, and Alec saw with a jolt that his eyes were full of unshed tears. “They were still just people.”

He feared he already knew where this was going. Still, he asked, “What happened?”

“Father wanted to put them down. They were terrified, chained up… still on the point of lashing out…”

Bile rose in his throat. “Oh god…”

“One of the hunters said she knew of a vampire who could help rehabilitate them; help them adjust to their new lives. One of them didn’t want to live as a vampire though, so father just…”

Theo didn’t need to finish that for Alec to know that father had ended the newly-turned vampire’s life in a heartbeat. “And the rest?”

“The other three went with the hunter. I don’t know what happened, but… I trust her. It’s just… father taught me and Ellie that vampires are mindless killers when they feed… that you can’t get close to them, that all they want at the end of the day is blood no matter what they tell you… but…” he looked up at Alec. “You’ve been fucking miserable since the whole Sebastien shit-fest. I know you’ve been trying to hide it, and you’ve got the exhibition coming up next weekend, and that’s great, but… I know you’ve stopped putting yourself out there. And we did that. We fucked it all up for you. I just…” he ran his hands through his hair and sent it into wild disarray. “I just wonder if you could really have been happy with him after all.”

Alec pulled his brother close and hugged him. “I’m not going to lie,” he murmured into his brother’s dark hair. “I’m furious with father for keeping everything from me, and for making you and mum and Ellie lie to me and Angie about it as well, but… if I hadn’t seen Sebastien’s eyes go red — yeah, I thought it was just a reflection or something — and if I hadn’t seen the way he sleeps literally like the dead… I’m not sure I would have believed you anyway. I don’t forgive him for it either, but…” he sighed deeply. “I forgive you, Theo. And Ellie.”

“And mum?”

“I’m still working on that.”

Theo went slack beneath him and snaked his arms around his brother’s waist for a moment. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Alec’s shirt.

“You’re still coming to the exhibition?” Alec asked as he pulled back and went back to the stove, giving Theo a moment of privacy to pull himself together.

In truth, Alec was a little shaken too. Their relationship had been slowly patched over the intervening months, but it still wasn’t particularly close, and the matter of Sebastien had been a permanent, proverbial elephant in the room. That Theo was questioning their father’s teaching came as an immense relief to Alec though. He poured them each a glass of wine, and the two spent the rest of the evening in a quieter kind of closeness than they’d yet shared.

When the evening of the exhibition drew round, Alec was quite frankly, a bit of a mess.

“C’mon,” Theo grinned, patting the lapels of his jacket down for him and grinning up at him. “Where’s that Twayblade hunter courage, huh?”

“Must have skipped me and all gone to you,” he quipped back. “Fuck. I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?”

“No fucking clue,” Theo chuckled. “You’re awesome and they’re gonna fucking love you.”

“Language,” Alec said instinctively and Theo’s laughter redoubled.

“You’re a big fucking hypocrite, you know that?” Theo laughed just as Kay sidled up with three glasses of champagne awkwardly held between her hands.

“Help a girl out here, would you, boys?” she asked, proffering the glasses to them.

Alec resisted the urge to down it in one — he’d probably only choke on the bubbles anyway — and filled his lungs instead with a big gulp of air. He tried to send all his nerves into the air and then blow it out of his body in one heaving sigh to leave him calmer, but it just gave him a head rush, so he sipped the wine and turned to look around the gallery from the corner where he’d been lurking.

“What if no one shows up?” he blurted, earning him a scowl from Theo and a pout-and-eyebrow-raise combo from Kay.

He needn't have worried in the end. The marketing team had done their work, and within an hour the place was heaving and all but three of his pieces had been reserved. Scratch that. Two.

The fact that almost all of his students had turned up as well to cheer him on and trade high fives, and scrounge free alcohol and food from the canape trays, warmed him in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Overwhelmed and a little bit tearful, he stepped out of the town hall’s main exhibition space and into the small corridor that led to a fire exit and a grotty back car park beyond, letting the flush die down from his cheeks. This was what he’d really wanted right from the moment he’d graduated all those years ago; to be an artist in his own right, with people buying his work at exhibitions… It almost made him giddy to think that he had a chance to do this full time now. It seemed that Sebastien had been right when he’d said he could really make something of himself.

Ah, there was the crash in his mood that he’d been waiting for. Nothing good lasts forever, right?

Would Sebastien have been proud of him if he knew about this? Would he have been there that night, by his side? Would they even have lasted that long anyway, even without his family’s interference?

The noise in the room was gradually dying down when he gathered enough courage to step back into the echoing hall. The pale wooden floors gleamed in the low light, the white of the temporary exhibition walls almost glowing, in stark contrast to the black and grey of his charcoals. He’d chosen mostly charcoals for the show, with a few acrylic abstracts for flavour, and apparently people loved them. Every single one had a red ‘sold’ dot beneath the label now, he noted as he cast his eyes around the room.

Then his gaze snagged on someone standing with their back to him, hands clasped loosely behind them, a long, silver-blond ponytail hanging down their back. And Alec’ vision slipped sideways.

Sebastien.

It had to be him.

No one else stood with posture like that. No one else was so tall and lean and elegant and god-damned graceful, even when just standing still. And no one else stood quite as still as that.

He let out a ragged breath and swayed slightly, glancing around. There was no sign of Theo or Kay just then, and only one or two couples meandered admiringly around the room. And there, fixated by one piece in particular, stood Sebastien.

Inhaling for courage, Alec approached and came to an unsteady halt a few feet away from him. He didn’t look real, somehow. His beauty had always been striking, but now in the low light he seemed like a mirage, with his warm olive skin and contrastingly pale hair, that cut-glass jawline and —

— He turned and met Alec’s gaze with dark brown eyes alight and glassy.

“You’re here,” Alec breathed, at a loss for anything else.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Sebastien said, and the sound of his voice sent a wild tingling through Alec’s whole nervous system. The man — vampire — looked uncharacteristically shy, uncertain, as he half turned to face him.

“Gotta say,” Alec said, scratching the back of his head, “I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

“Should I leave?”

He chewed his lower lip for a second and Sebastien’s eyes tracked the movement before he blinked and looked back at the charcoal in front of him. It was of the Lady Chapel of the cathedral; one of the most tranquil places Alec had ever been. A shaft of light lanced down from a Gothic window high on the right, scattering fractured shards of light onto the stone floor, and behind it, just barely visible as a grey, misty outline, sat the small altar.

“You’re religious?” Alec asked.

“Mm,” Sebastien nodded. “Surprising, I know, given my ‘condition’, but there you have it.”

All the smalltalk then suddenly boiled up into thick irritation inside Alec and he scowled. “Where have you been? And why now? Why come back now? What do you want?”

He must have raised his voice fractionally because the couple admiring the seascape to their left shot them slightly scandalised looks, as if he’d started swearing in a sanctuary, and he bit back the wave of anger, halting it in its tracks.

“Shall we step outside for a moment?” Sebastien asked and Alec nodded tersely.

Passing Kay and Theo who were sitting in the chairs near the drinks table, Alec cast his eyes at them and watched Theo tense visibly. Kay laid her hand on his thigh and shook her head, at which Theo nodded and sat back, eyes hard, mouth set, but at least he didn’t appear to be on the point of leaping out and staking Sebastien on the spot.

Alec mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ at them both, and followed Sebastien out on to the street.

“You’ve patched things up with your family then?” Sebastien began, standing perfectly still beside the brick wall of the Victorian building while Alec paced.

“Mostly just with Theo, but yeah. Why are you here?” he asked again.

“Honestly? I missed you. Couldn't get you out of my head. I went all over Europe, and even to Asia briefly, and nothing I did distracted me from you, from leaving you. I had to come back.”

“You could have called,” he said, instantly regretting the way it came out like a petulant teenager’s sulking.

“And what would that have achieved?” Sebastien asked evenly. “I was hundreds of miles away.”

“You could have come back sooner? Talked to me in person?”

Sebastien sighed. “I was afraid that your family would come after me. I needed to disappear.”

“Theo convinced father to let you go. As you said yourself, your name was on the treaty, and you didn’t hurt me or hypnotise me, or whatever… did you?”

“No,” he said, pale brows pinching with evident distaste.

“Could you have?”

Sebastien levelled him with a dark look. “Yes, but… that’s not something I enjoy doing. It’s a survival mechanism — to make people forget what they’ve seen — it’s not something to be used lightly.”

“Ok, but you could have, and you didn’t, so that was another reason to let you go,” he said. God he wanted to kiss him. The realisation hit him like a gut punch and he turned away. Alec ached inside and out for those lips, those hands, those eyes… “Fuck,” he whispered, barely audible. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?”

Alec rounded on him, frustration pouring out of him again. “Don’t answer my question with one of your own. Are you staying or not?”

Sebastien remained eerily calm, but a heartbeat later Alec saw that it wasn’t serenity in his eyes but sadness. “If you want me to, I’ll stay. I want to try again, Alec. I want… I want to be with you. I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you.”

“Feel? As in… present tense?”

“Yes. It hasn’t faded. Not with all the days and distance between us.”

“God, you sound like a shitty romance novel hero…” he scoffed. “I almost believe it.”

Sebastien spread his hands and said, “I am who — and what — I am. You know me, Alec, in a way that no one else ever has. I was utterly myself with you, except for the fact that I kept my nature from you. I hope you can at least understand why, if not forgive me. Everything else was genuine. I have never done that — been that open, that vulnerable — with anyone.”

“Even knowing what my family are?”

“Even then.”

Alec looked up at him and saw his own reflection in those dark, rich brown eyes. “Show me.”

Sebastien’s angelic face soured into a confused frown. “Show you what?”

“Your eyes. Your fangs. Show me what you are.”

“Now?”

He looked around. The street was empty on either side, with the only people around gathered outside a bar further up the street.

When he turned back to say yes to Sebastien, he found blood red eyes glowing in the man’s face. “Holy fuck,” he hissed. Every already-chiselled line on Sebastien’s face had sharpened somehow, his cheeks hollowing a little, perhaps to account for the additional hardware he now sported in his mouth, and his eyes seemed a touch more sunken. And they glowed as if lit from within.

Heartbeat thrumming out a wild tattoo, he stepped closer and Sebastien went utterly still. His chest ceased to rise and fall, and he didn’t even blink as Alec raised his fingers to his left cheek. “Show me.”

Sebastien swallowed and parted his lips. Angling his jaw a little to one side, he showed Alec the elongated canines, three quarters of an inch long. “Careful,” he murmured as Alec made to touch them. “Vampire venom is potent, even in small doses.”

“Does it really do what the hunters say it does?”

Sebastien’s red eyes glittered almost playfully. “I don’t know,” he smiled, seeming to relax a fraction. “What do they say it does?”

“Drives your victims wild, acts like a date rape drug, makes humans lose their will and their inhibitions…”

At that, a hardness returned to his features and his lip twitched in a lopsided snarl, like a wolf backed into a corner. “That’s certainly one take on it,” he said. “It creates a rush of euphoria. It’s supposed to make feeding a pleasant experience for all concerned. Endorphins in the blood make the taste sweeter, and the human feels no pain or fear.”

“Right. Gotta say I like that one better,” Alec said with a shaky smile. “But I’m not gonna risk it right here… And fuck me, your eyes are incredible.”

“They’re still red, hmm?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Closing his eyes and tilting his face upwards a little more towards the cloudy night sky, he inhaled deeply. His features softened again, and Alec watched, fascinated, as the slight bumps behind his closed upper lip slid away into nothing, presumably as his canines retracted into his gums. When he opened his eyes, they were their usual, endlessly dark brown once more.

“Better?” Sebastien asked, oddly self-conscious.

“No,” he said. “Just different.”

Something prickled on the back of his neck and he turned to find a woman silhouetted against the light of street lamp halfway up the road. “Friend of yours?” he asked, tense.

“Felicity. She came with me.”

“Why? Surely you don’t need a wingman… or, you know, woman.”

With a tiny smile, Sebastien said, “You make me more vulnerable than you realise, in more ways than one. And we weren’t sure if your family would be here.”

“Or whether they’d want to flambé you…”

“Precisely.” He inclined his head and the woman did the same, turning and vanishing even as Alec blinked.

“Can you do that too?” he asked, still gawping after her.

When he turned back, he found that Sebastien had stepped in close to him - close enough that his faint, woody cologne wafted gently around them and he felt his knees wobble slightly. He’d missed this. Oh god, he’d missed this. “Mmhmm,” Sebastien hummed. “I can.”

“Kiss me,” Alec whispered. “Please…”

Sebastien didn’t need telling twice. He took Alec’s face in both his hands and crushed a passionate kiss to his lips so hard that Alec’s mind went perfectly blank for a few beautiful seconds. When he came to, he grabbed Sebastien’s narrow hips and tugged him close, making the vampire grunt as their bodies connected.

This time, he took Sebastien’s ponytail in one hand and began to pull on it gently. Sebastien yielded at the pressure and tipped his face back, exposing the entire column of his throat to Alec without resistance. The gesture left Alec stunned and breathless. In his research with Theo over the past months, he had learned that for a vampire to expose their throat to another implied absolute trust. Overwhelmed, he pressed his lips to the bare skin and felt Sebastien gasp, grabbing at his shoulders suddenly to keep himself upright.

Over and over, the vampire shuddered tangibly beneath his touch and gasped sharply again, panting. As he shifted his hips against him, Alec felt Sebastien’s growing hardness, and at the same time, Sebastien drew back, eyes screwed shut. “Stop,” he laughed. “Not here.”

“I want you,” Alec moaned, one hand on Sebastien’s chest. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I want you too,” Sebastien smiled, opening his eyes. They glowed scarlet again. “And because of that, this —” he said, gesturing to his red eyes, “— isn’t going to go away quickly this time.”

“This too?” Alec said, boldly cupping the obvious bulge in Sebastien’s smart black trousers gently with his hand and making the vampire groan.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Your place or mine?” Alec asked with a dizzy grin.

“You decide. I’m booked into a hotel one street over for the next two days,” he said. “If that affects your decision in any way.”

“Yours,” he said. “I… I’ll just…” he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the exhibition banner dangling by the door. “I should…”

Sebastien nodded slowly. “I’ll be here.”

“You’d better be,” he snarled as he adjusted himself and prayed no one would notice. He took a few steadying breaths on the threshold of the town hall and then disappeared inside.

Kay raised her eyebrows at him when he reappeared.

“Not a word,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your hair’s a mess,” she said conversationally. “Is it windy outside?”

“Fuck off,” he grimaced and she laughed. “Where’s Theo?”

“He left out the back way,” she said. “But he told me to tell you to enjoy yourself tonight, and that he’ll stand by whatever makes you happy.”

Unexpected tears prickled his eyes and he tugged her into a hug that was probably meant for his brother.

“You can thank us later,” she said, shoving him off her. “Go be with your Prince of Darkness…”

“I’m not sure how much he’d like you calling him that,” he said as he stepped back. “I’ll have to wrap things up here first…”

It seemed to take forever, but he finally found the events coordinator and after an interminable conversation full of congratulations, agreed to stop by the next day to take down the exhibition and sort the sales out. His heart was thudding when he stepped back outside, but he let out a huge sigh when he saw Sebastien leaning against the brick building, face tilted towards the moon that was just peeking out from behind a bank of cloud.

“It’s like one of your charcoals,” Sebastien said without tearing his eyes from the sky.

Alec crossed to him and smiled when Sebastien met his gaze, red meeting blue. Alec slid his fingers into Sebastien’s where his hand hung quietly by his side.

“Ready?” the vampire asked.

Alec nodded, and let Sebastien lead him back to his hotel.

They barely made it into the lift before Alec was kissing him, backing him into the mirrored sides of the lift with a thud before the doors had even closed. He stopped suddenly, drew back and laughed, and Sebastien — who looked like he’d just got whiplash — asked, “What?”

“Vampires do have reflections after all…”

Sebastien rolled his eyes and gave an indecorous snort-laugh. The sound was rich and warm and it filled Alec’s whole consciousness for a moment. “It’s only the antique ones with genuine silver backing that don’t show our reflections. Technology has evolved, thank goodness. Now, if you don’t mind, you were kissing me senseless…”

“Sorry,” he laughed, grabbing Sebastien’s white shirt collar and tugging him down again. They nearly didn’t get out of the lift at Sebastien’s floor, but as the doors began to close again, Sebastien slid his foot into the path of the doors and dragged Alec out.

Clothes landed in a steady line on the carpet between the door of his hotel room and Sebastien’s bed, ending with them both in only their boxer-briefs on the pristine white surface of the bed. Alec was tipped back onto the duvet and lay there staring up at Sebastien who was now no longer hiding his nature from him at all. Red eyes blazed in his face and as he opened his mouth to breath heavily, the tips of his fangs were just visible. There was no denying that he was a vampire.

“Was it like this before?” Alec asked hoarsely. “I mean… did I just not see it?”

“I had to work very hard to rein all this in,” he said, kneeling on the bed and crawling a little way up it. His own boxer briefs strained at the crotch where his erection tented the fabric, and Alec’s own black ones were stained with a little spot of wetness where his cock twitched with eager interest. “I only let it slip once or twice, but you were distracted at the time.”

Alec smirked and then moaned as Sebastien’s palm skimmed up over his groin and over his stomach. He’d always been a bit self-conscious about the softer parts of him, but Sebastien worshipped him like he was some kind of immortal god, lavishing attention on him over and over until he was shaking and gasping and sweating. “Please!” he begged after what felt like hours. “Oh god, please…”

Sebastien slid off the bed and deftly removed his own underwear before encouraging Alec to lift his hips for him and drawing his boxer-briefs down too. Before Alec could think or process what was happening, Sebastien was between his legs again and had swallowed the entire length of his cock to the back of his throat in one.

“Oh fuck,” he hissed, mind whiting out.

Sparks of pleasure shot up his spine as Sebastien worked him alternately with his mouth and his hand.

He teased him, licking the slit at the tip where pre-come beaded profusely now, teasing the delicate folds of skin until Alec thought he was going to shatter apart with want. Just before it got too much to bear, Sebastien would take him back into the wet heat of his mouth and work the underside of his cock with his tongue, swallowing occasionally and making Alec’s head spin all over again.

His balls tightened and he spread his legs wider, instinctively opening himself to Sebastien.

The vampire moaned against his cock and Alec whimpered. Pulling off him, an obscenely inviting thread of saliva and pre-come connecting them briefly, Sebastien sat up and reached for the top drawer of the bedside table. “Vampires neither catch nor transmit diseases,” he said, “But if you still wish to use protection —”

“— I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he rasped. “And I’m clean anyway…”

“As you wish,” Sebastien smiled, withdrawing an almost-new bottle of lube and sitting back down between his legs. Alec eyed it and Sebastien laughed shyly. “I opened it last night…” he admitted and Alec grinned.

That smirk shattered into an open-mouthed groan as Sebastien’s finger slid inside him and he began to prepare him. There was nothing perfunctory about it either. Sebastien took his time to work him open, his fingers fucking into him slowly, almost reverently, until he crooked them and Alec yelled as white-hot pleasure shot through him.

“Still so sensitive,” Sebastien crooned and Alec just shivered in response. His thighs were quivering too now from the effort of not bucking upwards into the empty air, his cock drooling freely over his slightly soft stomach with each futile twitch. He knew he was a wanton mess, and he couldn’t quite find it within himself to care. It seem to drive Sebastien wild anyway.

When Sebastien added a third finger, still stroking up and down his thigh with his other hand, Alec broke.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpered, out of breath and desperate. He cracked his eyes open and looked down at Sebastien to find that his red eyes had been almost eclipsed by his blown pupils. He gave a weak buck of his hips to try and encourage Sebastien to get on with it, but the vampire seemed utterly transfixed by him. He worked his fingers over Alec’s prostate gently but with absolute precision, and it was going to make Alec lose his mind altogether.

“Pleasepleaseplease, I need you, please…” he wailed as Sebastien’s mercifully short and blunt fingernail caught him just so and sent another jolt through him.

Finally the vampire moved, but as he withdrew completely, the loss almost shattered him. “Shh,” he smiled, stroking a soothing circle at Alec’s hipbone. “I’m still here…”

Alec whimpered like a wounded animal but his foggy brain accepted that the loss was only temporary, and he watched as Sebastien took his own flushed cock in his hands and slicked lube up the length of it in a couple of efficient strokes, head bowing under the attention it was receiving at last. He’d focused solely, completely, on Alec’s pleasure for all that time, and the realisation sent a fresh wave of lust rolling through Alec’s entire body.

He spread his legs, but Sebastien caught Alec under his left thigh and raised his leg easily, exposing Alec completely. Before Alec could process anything, his tip was nudging at Alec’s entrance, and then he had sunk all the way in to the hilt.

Sebastien froze then, bowed forwards over Alec like a supplicant, canines openly bared, eyes screwed shut, not even breathing.

“Sebastien… please…” Alec grunted. He’d never felt as full and whole as he had with Sebastien inside him, and yet this wasn’t enough. He’d ached for this. For months, he’d ached for it, and still it wasn’t enough. “Bast, please…”

Finally, the vampire opened his searing red eyes and began to move.

Slowly at first, he picked up his pace until Alec’s back was arching and his fingers clawed great furrows in the sheet beneath him. With each thrust, Alec saw stars at let out little fractured, broken gasps. Sebastien was quiet, almost silent, while Alec himself was unable to stop the sounds from tumbling out of him. He moaned and whimpered, gasped and cursed and begged until Sebastien yanked him further down the bed and lifted his hips a little way off the mattress entirely.

From this new angle, it was so blindingly good that Alec went alternately taut and limp with ecstasy. “I’m close,” he gasped over the slap of Sebastien’s hips meeting his skin.

The vampire snarled then; an inhuman sound that sent the hairs prickling all down Alec’s body.

“Come for me,” Alec begged in a whisper, opening his eyes and watching as Sebastien chased his release with a ferocity he’d never shown before. He wasn’t careless with his strength, but he was certainly forceful. Had Alec wanted to grunt ‘stop’, he knew the vampire would halt, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he watched the flawless perfection of this man above him. “God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Come for me, Bast…”

And at the sound of his name, uttered in little more than an abbreviated wheeze, Sebastien went still, hips spasming as his spine arched back like a bow at full draw, mouth open, head thrown back, fangs bared, eyes rammed shut, a sheen of sweat covering his perfect, bronze chest, his silver hair falling around him like a veil.

The sight of him like that wrenched Alec’s orgasm from him with such sudden force that he almost blacked out, and he clenched around Sebastien’s still-twitching cock as he spilled all over himself. Vaguely, he felt Sebastien trying to withdraw, but he grunted, “Don't… not yet… please… I… unngghh…” Unable to finish the sentence as the last shock waves fluttered through him, Alec went limp against the bed, breathing hard, his blood roaring in his ears.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sebastien did finally move, but eventually he slid his softening cock out of him and Alec grunted at the cool slide of the vampire’s release down his thigh. He was too spent and exhausted to care about the mess though, and as Sebastien collapsed onto the bed beside him, he cracked one eye open.

Sebastien lay on his left side with his cheek pillowed on his bicep, facing Alec with his eyes closed, and he didn’t seem to be breathing. Tentatively, clumsily in the daze of his recent, mind-blowing orgasm, Alec reached out and touched the delicate skin on the inside of his arm. Sebastien jolted like he’d received an electric shock, and opened his eyes. They still burned bright red, but the rest of his face seemed a little softer somehow.

“You alright?” Alec asked.

Sebastien nodded.

“Been a while too, huh?” Alec grinned, flopping back down to stare at the ceiling where little points of light still sparkled across his vision every now and again.

“Not since that last night with you,” he said, words slurred with exhaustion. “Unless you count my rather pathetic climax alone last night, which I certainly don’t.”

“Not at all?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak again. The vampire lay perfectly still — perfectly undead — and perfectly vulnerable beside him without even a sheet to cover him. His cock now lay soft across the top of his right thigh, still drooling a little and making a mess on his olive skin. Not half as much mess as Alec was currently sporting over his torso, he mused with another smile.

With Sebastien showing no sign of stirring, Alec rolled carefully off the bed and headed on shaky legs to the shower. When he returned, Sebastien hadn’t moved, and he slid in beside him, drawing the sheets up around them and lying there to stare at him in the dimness of the unlit room, processing everything. Sebastien was back, and apparently wanted to stay. He could hardly believe how well that day had gone.

Waking the next morning with a cool, lean body pressed against him, Alec sighed, relieved that it hadn’t all been some kind of fever dream brought on by the stress of the exhibition.

The fact that the man next to him was an undead vampire who didn’t breathe in his sleep was a bit unnerving, and the way he had his cheek now resting on Alec’s collarbone and his nose pressed against his neck should also probably have been a bit of a warning, but Alec couldn’t bring himself to move, except to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

Suddenly, as if surfacing from boundless depths, Sebastien’s body heaved and he drew in a great, sucking, rasping inhale through his mouth. His lips brushed against Alec’s pulse and Sebastien began breathing heavily there for a moment.

“That will never not be weird,” Alec murmured.

“Apologies,” Sebastien muttered, trying to roll away. He paused, freezing, and then whispered, “I fell asleep…” as if that was something miraculous.

“Yeah, you passed out almost as soon as we both finished,” he snickered.

Sebastien turned his big, dark, doe eyes on Alec and said, “No, you don’t understand. Vampires don’t just shut down like that the way humans do. We only sleep somewhere we know is secure and safe…”

“Oh,” Alec said significantly as the realisation plunged through him. He tucked his arm under Sebastien’s head and tugged him closer so that their bodies were once again flush with one another. “I’m glad you felt safe…”

Sebastien sighed, trailing his fingertips across Alec’s chest in absent circles. His cock twitched too, and Alec shot him a look.

With a bashful smile, Sebastien said, “I can’t help that I find you attractive, Alec…”

“Wasn't complaining,” he grinned.

It was a long time before they rolled off each other that morning, with the sun well up and the sheets damp with sweat and tangled around their ankles. Vampires, it seemed, had a longer refractory period than humans, but Sebastien also came so big when he did that Alec wasn’t surprised. He gave everything to Alec when he came that Alec could quite happily lie there all day just staring at him as he came down afterwards.

The room was chilly, however, and when Sebastien seemed to have dozed off again around ten o’clock, he headed to clean up. Again.

As the steam billowed around him, he tipped his head back into the stream of searing water and nearly yelped as the shower door opened and let in a rush of cold air as Sebastien stepped into the stall as well. Cool hands found his waist and then strong fingers kneaded his arse appreciatively before Sebastien kissed and nibbled up his shoulder and traps to his neck. Instinctively, Alec tilted his head to one side and Sebastien moaned, pressing open-mouthed kisses there over and over as the hot water coursed around his lips.

The sensation must have been too much for him because he pulled back sharply with a hiss and Alec turned to face him, water still streaming down around them. Sebastien stood frozen, eyes red, staring at Alec’s neck. “I shouldn’t…” he began. “That was stupid of me… I…”

“What happens to the treaty if the human is willing?” Alec found himself asking. He’d thought about it a lot before drifting off the previous night. If Sebastien had wanted to drink from him, to feed on him, what would happen to the tenuous peace between hunters and vampires like him.

“Don’t,” Sebastien said through gritted teeth. His canines were elongated, Alec noted.

“What happens?”

“The only way it’s permitted is if the human agrees by written contract to become the vampire’s source.”

“‘Source’?” he asked. “That sounds like an official title.”

“It is,” Sebastien said, relaxing a fraction and putting his hands back on Alec’s hips. His cock stirred with interest and Sebastien smiled. He leaned back in, as if proving to both of them that he could do this, and kissed down Alec’s neck again from the junction of his jaw all the way to his collarbones. He ground his hips against Alec and they both began to harden again.

Alec’s hand went to Sebastien’s cock and he started to stroke him gently, knowing he was still sensitive from their last round. Sebastien let out a ragged exhale, the cool breath making Alec shiver slightly in the heat of the water.

“So…” Alec pressed gently, thumbing across the top of Sebastien’s flushed cock.

“Hmm?” he asked, a little stunned.

“What is a source?”

“A human becoming a vampire’s source means that the vampire drinks only from that human. It’s… an ancient - ah - custom,” he said, gripping Alec’s shoulders as Alec upped the speed and adjusted his grip to tighten just a little around his now fully hard cock. “Rarely used today, but still… nngh…”

“Mmm?” Alec grinned, loving that the vampire’s thoughts were unravelling under his touch. “Go on.”

“You’re a menace,” he laughed breathily, nipping playfully at his neck and then kissing him hard. Alec’s back suddenly hit the icy tiles behind him and he yelped, rearing into Sebastien who wasn’t all that much warmer, though the heat of the water was raising his body temperature from the ambient temperature of the room.

“So if…” Alec began, somewhat distracted as Sebastien’s kisses continued and the vampire raked his fingers through Alec’s wet hair, scraping luxuriantly across his scalp hard enough to make him break off and groan. “If… if I wanted to become your…”

“Don’t,” Sebastien whispered. “Not yet. Not so soon after… all this time.”

The subtext was clear. Let’s see if this is going to last before I risk my life with the hunters guild and your family, shall we?

“Fair enough. Nothing to say I can’t suck you off now though, right?”

“Nothing at all,” he whispered and then immediately cursed as Alec sank to his knees and did just that.

It was only as he was handing in his own letter of resignation that the truth really sank in for Alec. He’d gone from post-grad assistant in the department to a full lecturer, where he’d stayed for six years, and now he was moving a little way out of the city, and moving in with his boyfriend of a year. A vampire, nonetheless. His life had gone from miserable to wonderful in that relatively short time.

Sebastien met him at the edge of campus after he’d handed the letter personally to the head of department. Standing under the verdant cherry trees, Sebastien looked like a vision. He wore tight, dark jeans and a loose shirt, half untucked, with his long hair tied back in a loose plait, fly-aways wisping around his head like mist. Alec walked straight up to him as the vampire opened his arms, flung his own arms around Sebastien’s neck, and hugged him.

“All done?” Sebastien asked without pulling back.

He nodded and popped back down from his toes. They were both tall men, but Sebastien had a few inches on him still. With a slightly doe-eyed expression, Sebastien smiled and kissed him gently. “I love you,” he said softly between kisses.

“Come on, you big sap,” Alec said. “I’ve got to be out of my apartment at four.”

“Such a romantic,” Sebastien sighed melodramatically.

With Sebastien’s supernatural strength, loading up the little van they’d hired for his stuff didn’t take long, and after giving his keys back to the landlord and signing the final bits and bobs, they were on the road.

The old farmhouse had been a find of Sebastien’s, and it needed some work. “Well, what else am I going to do on long, impossibly sunny summer days while you’re running your own business from the little art studio at the bottom of the garden?” Sebastien had laughed when they’d first viewed it, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead in a terribly ‘put upon’ gesture. “I might as well spruce the place up.”

“It needs more than a light ‘sprucing up’,” Alec had said, brows raised at the rotten wooden beam and the tired 1950’s kitchen. “And don’t tell me you made your wealth flipping houses back in the day.”

“Would you rather I told you I robbed the Bank of England and they still haven’t noticed?” he replied archly before planting a kiss squarely on Alec’s scratchy, stubble-darkened cheek.

With a scowl, Alec had shot him a look. “I honestly don’t know whether that’s a lie or not…”

“It’s a lie,” Sebastien snorted. “I can’t believe you think I’m a criminal.”

“You’re a vampire,” he’d retorted. “You could probably have just walked in there and demanded a small fortune in gold ingots and they wouldn’t have objected…”

“Please. I do have some scruples. And besides, I only use my charms on poor, miserable artists to get into their pants…”

“And their hearts too, apparently,” he’d scoffed as they’d left the dilapidated house with Sebastien’s hand in Alec’s back pocket, fingers firmly cupped around his arse.

It took another six months for the work to be completed, and even with Sebastien’s not inconsiderable talents in the DIY and home improvement departments, they still had to call in a team of builders to fix the pointing in one wall and to sort out a few other structural issues. But by the end of the work, the farmhouse was quite frankly the most stunning place Alec could ever have dreamed of living. Exposed oak beams and a fireplace big enough to park a tractor in were only half of the best features of the place.

One clear, frosty evening in late October, the pair sat outside on the recently finished patio, a small cast iron fire-pit crackling away and sending sparks and heat twisting up into the night sky, a glass of wine each in one hand and their free hand clasped around the other’s.

“Bastien…?” Alec said, not taking his eyes from the mother-of-pearl points of light in the sky above.

“Mmm?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… about becoming your source.” He didn’t miss the sharp inhale from his partner, nor the way Sebastien went completely still in the wooden chair beside him. He also didn’t say anything. “I’d… I’d like to ask how often you’d need to feed from me, and… what the repercussions would be for me as the human…”

Still Sebastien didn’t speak for a long time, and Alec worried he’d spoilt the serenity of their evening with the sensitive question. Finally, the vampire cleared his throat and Alec realised with a jolt that he was near tears.

“Bast?”

At the sound of the pet-name, Sebastien blinked rapidly and two mirroring tears tracked down his cheeks in perfect synchrony. “I thought you’d forgotten all about it,” he said in a hoarse croak. “I didn’t want to bring it up again.”

“You should have done, silly,” Alec groused, and he was met with a watery smile that didn’t meet his eyes at all.

“Well, to answer your questions,” he said, trying to sound unaffected even if he clearly was. “Every three months is safe enough, so long as you take an iron supplement. If you don’t, you might feel a little more tired right afterwards. We generally take slightly less than a person would give at a blood donation, if that helps put it into context.”

Alec turned and frowned at him.

“What?”

“You’ve gone all clinical,” he said, shuffling a little and setting his wine glass down on the edge of the stone fire pit. “Do you not want this anymore?”

Sebastien swallowed thickly and looked away. In the ochre and copper flicker of the flames before them, his suddenly red eyes seemed to glow like coals. “More than you know…” he rasped.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before turning back to face Alec with glassy eyes. “I’m frightened.”

Alec’s scowl deepened and he rose from his chair to straddle and sink down into Sebastien’s lap. Settled in his new position, he kissed Bast’s lips and stroked his loose, white-blond hair out of his eyes. “Of what?”

“Losing control. It’s been… decades since… If I hurt you, Alec… it would break me.”

“How about we start small? Just a taste?”

Sebastien looked so young then in the firelight. He suddenly looked like the twenty year old man he had been when he’d been conscripted into the army and sent out to battle to die, only to be turned at the eleventh hour by a nurse in a field hospital who’d seen something special in him. Thank god she had, Alec mused.

Alec leaned back a little and brought his index finger slowly to Sebastien’s lips. The vampire swallowed, red gaze drifting down to watch its approach before looking back at Alec’s face, searching, questioning, doubting.

Alec nodded and slid his fingertip a few millimetres into Sebastien’s mouth. The vampire inhaled, closed his eyes, and then opened his mouth properly. Alec brought the pad of his fingertip to the underside of his right canine, and pressed.

After a moment, the pressure gave way and a prick of pain like a needle pierced his skin. A bead of blood welled there instantly and he withdrew to let it swell. Sebastien clearly smelled the blood because his pupils dilated and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Easy,” Alec said. “It’s only a drop.” And with that, he turned his finger over and held it above the tip of Sebastien’s tongue.

Paralysed in a heartbeat of terror, Sebastien sat rigid, frozen, wide eyed, but Alec lowered his finger to meet the slight roughness of his tongue, and Sebastien’s eyes rolled. He moaned and let his tongue play across the tiny pinprick wound, fingers digging into Alec’s hips. The tiny wound had already stopped bleeding, but he sucked gently, drawing a little taste more. Then he released Alec and stared at him, a look of stunned awe on his beautiful face.

“How was that?” Alec asked, briefly thumbing a fond arc across Sebastien’s cheekbone before dropping his hand.

“Manageable,” Sebastien murmured.

“Ok, I have to ask, do I taste good?”

The tense spell that encapsulated both of them broke and Sebastien cracked a smile, fangs and all. “Yes,” he rasped.

“So… I can become your source?”

“If you wish it, yes. You can withdraw the honour at any time. I won’t hold you to it.”

“Good to know,” he said, only half laughing. A moment later, he said, “When… When do you want to start… you know… properly. Formally?”

Sebastien’s eyes had drifted to the rabbiting pulse in his neck.

“Now?” he asked. “It’s only been a few weeks since you went to the blood bank though…”

“That’s…” he said, hands finding Alec’s waist and holding him gently. “That probably works in my favour this time. Are you sure you want this?”

“To be ‘yours’ on your terms as well as mine? Of course,” he smiled, and watched as another tear rolled down his perfect olive cheek. He tilted his head to one side, feeling a little sheepish, and said in barely a whisper, “Whenever you like.”

“Really? Now?” Sebastien hissed, chest suddenly heaving. “Just like that?”

Alec laughed quietly. “It’s not as if we’ve just met. I know you, Bast. I trust you. I wouldn’t offer this to just any old vampire, you know?”

Unable to stop the smile from twisting his lips, Sebastien finally relented with a nod. “Alright. But not here. You’re going to want to be more comfortable.”

“But I’m already comfortable here,” he whined playfully, wiggling his hips in Sebastien’s lap, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan.

With a roll of his red eyes, Sebastien sighed. “Stubborn arse,” he grumbled without sting.

“You love my arse.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do,” he said.

Tenderly he ran his thumb down the line of Alec’s carotid and inhaled deeply. “I love you,” he whispered. And then he leaned close. He took his time kissing Alec’s neck until he was gasping and rocking his hips against Sebastien.

“Please…”

“Last chance,” Sebastien said against the skin of his throat.

Alec shook his head. “I want this. I’m yours.”

So the vampire sank his fangs into the artery. After the initial surprise and sting, Alec’s whole body lit up as the venom hit his bloodstream, and he bucked into Sebastien who held him still with what should have been frightening ease. There was no fear behind the gesture, only longing and love and sweet, aching, rolling, unending pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Alec moaned, going limp in his arms as Sebastien began to feed, withdrawing his fangs to draw more deeply on him while he held him easily in his arms. The vampire moaned, lips locked against his skin so as not to spill anything. The motion of his throat suddenly fascinated Alec as he swallowed down his own life-force, but before he could raise his hand to touch fingertips to his Adam’s apple, pleasure exploded in his mind and he forgot everything.

When he came back to himself, he was inside, lying on their bed, with a small, soft dressing over his neck, and Sebastien sitting quietly on the bed beside him, staring down at him and holding his hand. As he blinked his eyes, he frowned. “What…?”

“It’s intense the first time,” Sebastien murmured fondly. “I did say you’d want to be somewhere more comfortable.”

“ S’perfect,” he slurred. “Fuck me…” he added, more curse than command.

“Maybe later, hmm?” Sebastien smiled. There was a flush to his cheeks that Alec had never seen before, and a brightness to his eyes.

“C’mere,” Alec said, patting the bed beside him. With Sebastien lying silently next to him, Alec rolled over and hooked one leg over Bast’s thigh. “Love you,” he mumbled, sinking into a deep and exhausted sleep, even as Sebastien’s hand came up to cradle his head.

The vampire smiled, kissing his forehead. “I love you too.”

___

Hope you've enjoyed this 23,700k story! Looking forward to your comments as always. Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #exophilia #male vampire #vampire boyfriend #vampire x human #vampire lover #male vampire x male human #vampire hunter #mlm #long story #10k words #soft #fluff #angst #angst with happy ending

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echo-three-one · 4 years ago

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Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find.

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed.

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?"

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe."

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?"

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet."

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?"

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized.

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one.

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls.

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference.

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

#horrayfic #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #alex echo 3 1 #gary roach sanderson #whateverittakes #horRAYfic

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saphyhowl · 4 years ago

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Chapter one: Encounter

Here it is. I know it’s not very long but I will continue tomorrow for part two. The fic I asked your thoughts about. Hope you like it. Again sorry for the long wait.

Edit: I added part two

“And on your right, you may admire the work of Jacques-Louis David, “the Coronation of Napoleon” painted in 1807. It took the artist two years to finish the painting. It is not only imposing because of its size but also by the…”

A young woman in a formal suit guided a group of visitors through the gallery in the Denon part of the Louvre museum. While the visitors admired the painting, the guide waved discreetly at a young man standing on the sidelines. He looked visibly bored but managed a timid smile as the woman waved at him. He strode towards her, his boredom noticeable even in the way he walked.

“I’ll be done in a few hours, why don’t you grab something to eat or maybe take a stroll outside. I know museums are not the funniest thing to see for a 19-year-old,” the woman said with a chuckle.

“No worries sis, I’ll grab something to eat at the “Paul” bakery. Text me when you’re done?” the young man answered.

The sister nodded and went on to describe the other paintings to her group. She glanced one last time at her brother’s figure among the visitors. The young man put his headphones on as he strode towards the exit. He scrolled through his phone to find the playlist that would suit his mood and nearly bumped into an elegant-looking man.

“Sorry,” he mouthed at the elegant man and continued walking.

A moment later he sat on a bench munching on a sandwich. Someone sat next to him but he paid them no mind. A tap on his arm. He looked up. It was the elegant man from before.

“Well, we meet again,” said the elegant man.

The brother smiled politely and took another bite from his sandwich.

“You can call me Comte,” the gentleman added as he stretched out his hand.

“Louis,” answered the young man as he stared at Comte’s outstretched hand, visibly refusing to shake it.

“What is your favorite painting in the Louvre museum?” Comte asked.

“None. I don’t like museums,” Louis answered as he immediately took another bite from his sandwich. Hopefully, that way the weird man would stop talking to him.

“I thought so. A pity. Paintings are a heritage, they have many stories to tell us,” Comte commented.

“I am sure they do sir,” Louis said as he looked away in annoyance.

“Le Sacre de Napoleon is a masterpiece. However, you must visit the Musée d’Orsay as well. The paintings there are filled with life,”

“I will,” Louis said with a loud sigh.

“Make sure to go with a knowledgeable guide, otherwise you might miss a few gems,” Comte added.

Louis nodded and continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Well, then Louis. I bid you farewell. Take in my beautiful city of Paris, she has yet to offer you plenty of treasures,” Comte nodded his head and walked away.

“What a freak,” Louis mumbled to himself.

He was about to reach for his soda bottle as he noticed a leather wallet next to him. Louis cursed under his breath as he knew what he was about to do.

A few hours later.

“Are you sure he never left the Denon area?” a young woman asked the security guard as he replayed the security footage.

“No Mademoiselle Sophie,” the security guard answered.

Sophie saw the footage for the fifth time. There was her brother passing through the gates leading to the Denon area at 1:32 pm. She held her head in her hand.

“This cannot be happening,” she whispered.

“It’s been past closing time Mademoiselle. Have you tried his cellphone again?” the security guard inquired.

She nodded and took out her phone. She tapped on her brother’s contact and held her phone to her ear.

“Come on. Come on. Answer idiot…”

She heard the familiar beeping that announced her call had gone straight to voicemail.

“Maybe he went already home Sophie?” suggested someone behind her. It was Alicia, one of Sophie’s colleagues.

“Maybe you are right Alicia. I will go check and if not then I will go straight to the police. He knows nothing about Paris and it’s getting late,” Sophie decided as she went to grab her bag and coat.

Sophie watched the city lights pass by the window as she sat in the subway. The closer she got to her stop the more nervously her knees jumped up and down. She practically ran towards her tiny apartment. She dropped her keys a few times because her hands trembled with anticipation. She opened the door and shouted her brother’s name. She shouted again as she entered her apartment. The apartment was dark and was exactly as she had left it before heading to work this morning. She shouted her brother’s name again storming into each room. No one.

Sophie crouched down and called her brother’s phone one more time. Voicemail. She looked at her phone and selected another contact. The sharp light from her phone hurt her eyes or maybe the tears she held back started to sting her eyes.

“Hello?” a voice came out of the speaker.

“Mom? I-I lost Louis,” Sophie managed to say before bursting into tears.

A few hours later, Sophie sat in front of a police officer, telling the middle-aged officer what had occurred. Sophie tried her best to recall any detail that could be decisive for the investigation. Another officer handed her a paper cup with what seemed to be coffee. She gave them a faint smile. The middle-aged officer spoke with Sophie it took her a moment to understand their explanations. All of this seemed surreal. The busy police station even at night, the neon lights. The office was busy with people doing paperwork. Sophie was sitting there filing a missing person report for her younger brother just like in any trailer movie. However, the heavy truth was nowhere comparable to what any series could transmit. She had lost her brother for whom she had always looked out for. Sophie felt as if part of herself went missing for good that day as well.

The police officer gave her a business card with a number on it.

“If you need to talk, we have a few people here who are specialized in helping families cope with the situation,” the officer explained.

Sophie took the business card and thanked the police officer.

“We will be at the Louvre tomorrow to investigate possible leads. We will let you know if we find something,” the other officer added.

Sophie managed to blurt out a few words of gratitude and exited the station. She caught sight of a familiar man leaning against a car.

“Antoine,” Sophie whispered and smiled.

The man named Antoine held out his hands to take hers. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“This is a nightmare,” she said as series of sobs took over.

Antoine held her in his arms until she had calmed down a little.

“It is not your fault. He will show up again, ok? Let’s go back to your place and get some rest,” Antoine suggested as he opened the door of his car.

The next day, at the police station.

“Our colleagues have scanned every profile of the visitors and staff on that day and none of them match with the man we see here,” explained the policewoman to his lieutenant as she circled the zoomed face of an elegant-looking man.

The lieutenant gazed at the different screenshots from the security footage showing the missing Louis with an unidentified man.

“How could anyone pass the heavy security of the Museum?” the lieutenant wondered.

“We found something else,” the policewoman showed him another screenshot.

The lieutenant looked closer and recognized Louis. The young man was following the suspect through a door.

“Where does that door lead?”

The policewoman turned pale.

“Now now Marie, it cannot be that bad,” the lieutenant encouraged the policewoman.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“What do you mean exactly with nothing?” the lieutenant asked.

“A storage room for flyers and whatnot. There are no windows, no shafts, nothing that could lead them out, except the same door they went through,” Marie explained.

The lieutenant sat back in his chair. He had seen a lot of cases in his lengthy career. However, this one was fairly new and slightly worrying.

“I’ll make a call. This, dear Marie, is bigger than I anticipated,” the lieutenant added before getting up to make a call. This case was out of his hands.

#Trouverlouis

Paris was on fire. At least the social network was. The social media of every Parisian was showing and sharing one hashtag, a plea for help from a desperate sister. Sophie was in the kitchen, her phone on the table could not stop buzzing ever since she had followed her friends' advice. She had placed her faith in the algorithms of Instagram and every other network that might help to obtain hints on her brother’s whereabouts. However, after a month, the shares and posts resulted in lots of public empathy but few leads.

Sophie sat on a chair and stared at a picture hanging on her fridge door. The unidentified man who took away her brother Louis. She remembered the day she went to the police station with her mother this time. After they had told them another unit had taken over the case because of the lack of leads, her mother had thrown a tantrum. She insulted every policeman with every imaginable name. However, all the commotion dulled out as she saw the portrait one police officer had handed to her, explaining that she was allowed to use it to see if anyone in her circle could identify him. Ironically, no one recognized him.

Sophie looked at the portrait, eyes filled with pure hate. The pure-hearted, art and history passionate Sophie had made a vow to personally strangle the life out of this man. She grabbed her purse and went to the Louvre as she did every day for work. However, this time she went to stand for the umpteenth time in front of the door through which her brother never came back.

The door looked insignificant as usual, noted Sophie. She was alone in the area, it was yet too early for the storm of visitors to invade the halls of the Louvre Museum. Sophie sighed. The police had explained that it was a mere storage room of two square feet. She had looked at it many times during the past weeks. She lazily put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door, she knew what to expect.

Sophie let out a scream. The stack of cardboard from yesterday was gone, the pile of flyers and maps as well. The storage room looked more like an old corridor from the Louvre with a velvet rug, old paintings on each side of the walls.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” a voice whispered. It came from the far end of the corridor.

Sophie fumbled with her purse and took out her phone to take a picture.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” the voice repeated.

Sophie searched through her phone and was about to leave a voice message to her boyfriend Antoine.

“Sophie” another voice whispered.

Sophie shuddered; she knew that voice very well. It belonged to Louis.

“Antoine, I think I found a lead. I’ll send you a picture,” Sophie whispered on her phone, her voice a mix of fear and joy.

She released her finger from the recording button. She was about to tap onto the picture she had just taken to send it to Antoine. Something or someone pushed her into the corridor causing her to drop her phone. The door slammed behind her and Sophie was drawn towards the other end.

“No no no no. Let me out! Let me go! Please let me go! Alicia! Anyone! Get me out of here, please!”

On the other side of the storage door, Sophie’s phone rested on the floor. The screen shifted as a call entered, the name “ANTOINE” appeared on the screen. The phone buzzed in the still empty museum.

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp fics #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp sebastian #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire le comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire jean

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ollieofthebeholder · 4 years ago

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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 28: Jon Prime

“It’s not your fault, Jon,” Martin said for probably the twelfth time in as many hours.

“I know.” Jon sighed as he abandoned his scan of the shelves and crossed back over to where his fiancé sat, patiently waiting for him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “About Helen or about Past You?”

“You know me so well.” Jon settled himself on the ground and folded his arms on Martin’s knee, resting his head on them. Martin’s hand immediately came up to stroke his hair. “I honestly never expected us to be able to save Helen, in the end, but I-I had hoped the Distortion would leave the others alone.”

Sasha had been the one to come down into the tunnels and alert the two of them that Helen Richardson had made her appearance and disappearance. Jon and Martin had risked coming above ground with her to make sure the other three were all right. Past Jon had been twitchy and nervous, which made Jon nervous, and both Tim and Past Martin had been hovering in a way that made his heart ache as much as it made him smile to see. He was also strangely comforted by the sight of Past Jon draped in a sweater that was obviously Past Martin’s. But ever since then, Jon had been wondering if there was more he could have done to prevent it from happening, or at least divert it.

Martin shook his head slowly. “That was never really an option. He’s still…we didn’t go back far enough to save Michael Shelley, so he’s going to be angry. He’s still going to want revenge against the Archivist, and unfortunately that was always going to be Past You.”

“You know, it seems a bit silly to keep calling them Past Us,” Jon mused idly. It wasn’t exactly hard for him to think clearly with Martin’s fingers gently combing his scalp, but it certainly sapped any desire he might have had to think about anything else. “Technically, we’re in their time. They are the present and we are the future.”

“I mean…technically we’re all in the present now. The future we came from doesn’t exist anymore, right?”

“I refuse to have that discussion again,” Jon said, with a bit of humor. They’d had a lighthearted debate about time travel one night in Scotland, which had reached no conclusion other than Martin’s heartfelt declaration that the only way to create a timeline where he didn’t love Jon was to remove him from it entirely, and even then he didn’t like the universe’s chances. It seemed a lot more weighty now. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think—I think the only way forward is the old-fashioned way. One day at a time.”

Martin smiled down at him. “I’m okay with that, actually.”

“Mm, yes, I didn’t imagine you’d be in that much of a hurry to go back to the Apocalypse.”

“Not what I mean, Jon. I mean…you know, as horrible as these years were? All things considered, I’m looking forward to living them again. With you this time, instead of just…alongside you. Hand in hand, walking into a future so bright even I can almost see it.”

Jon couldn’t help the smile that curled almost to his ears as he leaned back into Martin’s hand. “You should write a poem around that.”

“I’m saving it for our wedding vows.”

“Now how am I supposed to follow that up?”

Martin laughed. For a moment, Jon could almost imagine things were, well, normal, that they were just an ordinary couple discussing their wedding plans and that they could look forward to a future where the biggest thing they would have to worry about was their teenager being out past curfew. He wasn’t stupid. Stopping Jonah, stopping the Apocalypse, wouldn’t remove the entities from existence. They would always be out there. And while the rituals would collapse on their own…mostly…Jon knew they would likely spend the rest of their lives working to ensure that nobody else ever figured out a ritual that would work. The fears would be a part of their lives for as long as they lived them, which meant there would always be something worse than normal human cares to worry them. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have those cares, too.

He was about to say something to that effect when Martin’s hand stilled, a few strands of hair tangled around his fingers. Jon was about to ask what was wrong when he, too, heard it—a small sound, caught in a perfect moment of silence. The faintest scuff of shoe against stone. Someone was coming down the stairs.

“Jon?” Martin kept his voice to a whisper. He didn’t sound afraid, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t reason to be.

Jon hesitated. He could reach out with the Eye’s powers, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get caught, but…no. He got to his feet and tugged at Martin’s hand. Martin, thank God, complied without question, standing up and staying close to Jon as he led him, quickly and quietly, through the Archives. He lifted the trapdoor and nudged Martin down the steps, then followed and closed it as silently as he could.

Martin was waiting for him at the foot of the steps and hugged Jon close when Jon slid an arm around his waist. “Who was it?”

“No clue. I didn’t want to risk it, just in case…” Jon stiffened and glanced up the stairs as awareness slid over him—a drop of water forcing its way past the door he’d once spoken of to Melanie, what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Come on.”

Jon all but dragged Martin away from the foot of the stairs, to the first room along the hall where they had set up camp. Thankfully, they hadn’t broken their habit of packing everything away any time they were going to be out for more than a few minutes, ready for a quick getaway if needed, so it was the work of a second to grab the bags and stow them against the wall in a place so that, should someone push the door open, they would remain hidden in the gap left between the door and the corner. Martin stood where Jon had left him. “What’s going on?”

“Whoever it is, they’ll be down here in a second,” Jon whispered. He took Martin’s hand. “I don’t know who it is, but I don’t trust them. I doubt it’s someone who would wish us well.”

Martin hummed in understanding. “So what are we going to do?”

“There’s only one thing I can think of.” Jon clicked off his torch and poked his head out into the corridor. “We’re going to have to stay a step ahead of them. Somehow.”

It was the somehow that bothered him. Sound traveled oddly in the tunnels; sometimes things echoed, other times they didn’t. If whoever was coming down was making an effort to move silently, they may not be able to track their movements. And Jon couldn’t risk a light, couldn’t risk being spotted. It could have been a police officer—Basira or Daisy—even though the tunnels had long ago been cleared as a crime scene; on the other hand, if they’d cleaned up the CCTV footage, they might be down looking for additional clues. It could be the Not-Them, if it had taken over someone’s body and was down looking for Leitner, and really, it was too much to hope that the Not-Them would stay confined in the table forever; even if it wasn’t being studied, it would take someone, and Jon couldn’t imagine who. It could, possibly, be someone like Rosie—someone simply burning with curiosity who wanted to see what the tunnels were like. It could even potentially be a workman who discovered the trapdoor by accident and was making sure there was no work to be done underneath the floor.

Speculation wasn’t going to be helpful. Jon shook his head minutely and tugged Martin’s hand, leading him out into the tunnels proper.

Jon could see the faintest hint of light from the steps, meaning whoever it was had a torch; it was getting closer, but they had time. He turned away from the stairs and started down the hallway. They hadn’t gone far before the darkness swallowed them entirely. Jon cursed under his breath, wondering if he could use his abilities from the Eye and Know the right way to go.

“Four more steps and then a right turn,” Martin breathed in his ear, and Jon remembered that Martin had been counting steps as he went. He probably had a mental map of these tunnels that put Jon’s to shame.

“You’d best lead,” he muttered back.

Martin tightened his grip on Jon’s hand, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply moved forward to take point.

Jon kept glancing over his shoulder, trusting Martin to lead him safely. He wasn’t sure how much of a lead they had, nor was he sure where the person following them would head. Obviously whoever it was wasn’t looking for them specifically, unless the Eye was out to get them—which was possible—but still, Jon didn’t feel hunted. Which meant it likely wasn’t Daisy. He bit back the urge to groan.

“Shh,” Martin suddenly hissed urgently, stopping. Jon stopped, too, and listened. This time he heard it—solid, purposeful steps. Whoever was following them wasn’t particularly worrying about staying hidden, and they weren’t moving slowly, either. Which…was probably not a good thing.

“Shit,” Jon hissed. He looked over his shoulder and could just see the edges of a pool of light. “They’re coming.”

“In here.” Martin’s hand tugged Jon forward, then half-shoved him through what Jon felt was a narrow space. A moment later Martin’s arms were tight around Jon, pulling him close to his wide, soft chest.

“Where are we?” Jon whispered.

“One of the rooms without a door.” There was a faint rustling noise, and Jon guessed Martin was pressing his back against the wall. “It sounds like…they’re not looking in the rooms. We should be safe here for a moment.”

“And then we can get behind them,” Jon completed.

Martin hushed Jon again; before Jon could think about why, he noticed the faintest hint of light sparkling off the tunnel floor. Whoever was out there, they were close.

Jon pressed closer to Martin, burying his face in Martin’s shoulder. One of Martin’s hands came up to cup the back of his head as his other arm curled tighter around Jon’s waist, and Jon felt Martin’s cheek press against the top of his head. He clung tightly to his fiancé and held his breath. If someone was down there with a purpose, it wasn’t likely they would be coming into this specific room, but there was always the chance. Hopefully, if someone did catch them, he’d be able to pretend to be his younger self, and whoever it was wouldn’t notice that his hair was too long, that Martin’s had too much grey in it, that the wrong one of them was scarred…

The footsteps got louder, then—thankfully—started to fade again. Jon eased up his grip on Martin’s sweater and cautiously let out his breath in a silent rush of air. He looked up in Martin’s direction and reached up to touch his cheek lightly. In the darkness, he felt Martin nod and understood what it meant. He stepped carefully out of the circle of Martin’s arms and peered out through the doorway.

The circle of light was moving away from them in a steady, purposeful manner. To Jon’s surprise, he could see from there that it wasn’t a torch, but rather, an old-fashioned lantern, its flickering flame making the shadows dance on the wall. Suspicious. Disturbing. Odd.

Jon tugged on Martin’s hand, and together they tiptoed into the hallway. Martin let Jon lead without comment; likely he’d realized Jon could see the light. Unlike the other person, they were trying to be quiet, but Jon could still move fairly quickly and silently. It helped that they were both wearing tennis shoes, whereas the person ahead of them was wearing dress shoes. Expensive ones, too, Jon guessed. They tapped against the stone of the tunnels, not loudly but enough to be noticeable if they strained.

There was a junction up ahead, one Jon vaguely remembered his past self exploring, meaning it was likely marked. Sure enough, whoever was ahead of them stopped at a corner and raised the lantern to study the arrow on the wall. Its light caught the person full in the face, and Jon flattened against the wall, pressing the hand not holding Martin’s tightly against his mouth to stifle his gasp of shock.

It was the face of Elias Bouchard.

Jon’s mind raced. This made no sense. Jonah couldn’t see into the tunnels; they were a huge blind spot to him. He had to be even more tightly bound to the Eye than Jon was, which meant that coming down here put him at a disadvantage, too. As far as Jon knew, Jonah had only been down into the tunnels a couple of times during his tenure as the Archivist—to stage Gertrude’s body, and later to be present when Martin made his choice not to throw his lot in with Peter Lukas. To come down here, to go anywhere near the Panopticon…

That was it, Jon suddenly realized. He was looking to see how close Past Jon’s explorations had taken him. How close he’d come to the center of everything, to finding Jonah Magnus’ original body. Because if Past Jon stumbled upon it too soon, it would ruin everything. If the Not-Sasha had found it, it would have been bad as well…and what if Leitner had found it? Not that Jonah knew he was down here, but still.

Jonah was setting off again. Jon shook his head and tugged Martin closer. “It’s Jonah,” he whispered, as softly as he could. “Come on.”

Martin followed without a sound. If he hadn’t been holding Jon’s hand tightly, Jon might not have known he was there. They crept after Jonah as he strode purposefully through the tunnels, as though he knew where he was going. Of course he knew where he was going. It was his body, after all. Like Jon using his rib as an anchor, although he doubted now that had actually been as powerful a lure as he thought; it was the tapes, the tapes and Martin, that drew him out in the end. But Jonah…that was different. He was probably bound to his body, or drawn to it. Or he’d just memorized the route over the last two centuries.

Briefly, Jon considered the possibility that Jurgen Leitner’s manipulations had thrown Jonah’s path off, but he set that aside and kept following.

Jon lost track of the turns they took and hoped Martin was paying attention, or that they were following the arrows Past Jon made that first time he came down, when he went looking for them. He hadn’t explored further, although Jon was pretty sure that was going to change sooner rather than later, but for now he seemed content to trust them when they said that what was in the tunnels posed no threat to him. It wasn’t technically a lie.

Jonah came to a halt, raising the lantern again, and Jon pressed Martin flat against the wall as he watched. It was the ring of worms first Tim and later Jon had seen in their timeline, just as Jon remembered it—huge, eating its way into the stone, the space between it soft to the touch. Tentatively, lips pressed in a thin line, Jonah reached out and pressed his fingertips to the stone. He did so several times, his brows knitting together, and then he lifted the lantern and looked around, scanning the other walls.

It hit Jon all of a sudden that he was looking for more of Past Jon’s arrows. He was looking to see if Past Jon had made it this far, to see if he had found this place, maybe gotten suspicious enough to prod. If he would be back. This place was important to Jonah and it had to be because it was the way to the Panopticon. Was that what was inside the ring of dessicated worms? The doorway Jonah thought he had sealed up centuries before? Or…did it stay sealed? Was that where Jonah’s little ritual, whatever it actually entailed, to switch eyes with his chosen victims took place? (For the first time since he’d learned about that particular fact, a small part of Jon’s brain wondered what happened to the old bodies when Jonah moved on, if it took place prior to the host’s death or after, but he pushed that aside.)

After a few moments, Jonah’s shoulders slumped in evident relief, and he nodded, lowering the lantern. He was satisfied. His body was safe. His plan was still intact.

For a moment, Jon realized that he was staring down a golden opportunity. Jonah was in the tunnels. He was cut off from some—not all, but some—of his power. And he’d never had the same powers Jon had anyway. He was also distracted by his worries about discovery. He was here, right in front of Jon, with no witnesses other than Martin, who certainly wouldn’t object. It would be the work of a moment to enact their plan now, to step forward and unleash the power of the Ceaseless Watcher on this man who had brought agony on so many, who had really, in the end, done so little to actually serve the Eye. He could turn Jonah’s words back on himself, take him out now, save the world—save their friends.

He stared at Jonah, feeling himself tremble. The memory of the last time he had seen Jonah Magnus came to him—those carefully curated words designed to cut him down to nothing in a way that Peter Lukas would have envied, the cold fury that flashed briefly in those grey eyes before they went back to their usual calm, placid, watchful state when Martin defied him yet again, that smug, condescending lilt to his voice as he delivered his parting words before walking away from Martin’s bleeding body. It filled his entire being. He wanted to step forward then and there and end it all, to get revenge for Martin, for Tim, for Sasha, for Melanie and Basira and Daisy, for the world.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t feel the static building, couldn’t sense the words waiting on his tongue. He knew what he wanted to say, but even the first time, he’d known the Ceaseless Watcher would give him the right way to say it in the moment, and that wasn’t happening here. It wasn’t time. It must not be time. He’d have to be patient. It was the last thing he wanted to be, but he would have to be.

It was only when Jonah started to turn that Jon realized they now had to figure out how to get out of the tunnels ahead of Jonah, or at least avoid being seen by him.

“Martin,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice as soft as he possibly could. “Can you get us out of here?”

“This way,” Martin answered immediately. He pulled Jon’s hand and started down the tunnels.

They had to hurry, but they also had to stay silent. Jon knew that, but he also knew that Martin would have no idea if they were close to being spotted, so he kept glancing over his shoulder as they moved, checking to see how far back that glow of light was. He could still see it, that was the problem, any time they got on a straight enough bit, there it was, that circle of light presaging the approach of a man who still held the power to destroy everything Jon held dear. Jon had rarely felt more helpless, more useless, than he did in that moment, knowing he was letting a chance to try and take down Jonah Magnus two years early slip through his fingers because he was afraid of failing. Again.

His distraction made him careless. He took a turn too tightly and slammed his shoulder into the corner, and he couldn’t stop the soft grunt of pain. He jammed the heel of his free hand into his mouth, but it was too late. Jonah had heard, if the way he raised the lantern abruptly to the level of his eyes, which were narrowed with sudden intent scrutiny, was any indication.

Shit.

“Come on!” Martin hissed at him, tugging his hand. They picked up the pace, still trying to keep quiet, but Jon wondered if it would matter. Jonah Magnus wasn’t the sort of man to jump at shadows—or was he? No, he wouldn’t suspect he heard something and then decide he was wrong. He knew someone else was down here. They just had to make sure he couldn’t find them, that was the trouble. Or else…well, Jon would have to hope he was wrong about it not being time.

There was a loud creaking noise, and Jon almost jumped out of his skin, but then Martin tugged on him harder and pulled him around a corner. There was a dull thumping sound, too, which Jon tentatively identified as Martin’s back hitting the wall, and then he was wrapped tightly in Martin’s arms again, safe and secure against his chest. He fisted his hands in Martin’s sweater and pressed his face into his shoulder. Martin’s heart thudded frantically, directly under his ear, and Jon could feel his own heartbeat just as rapidly pounding in his own chest. They clung to each other and waited.

Jon heard the creaking noise again and held his breath, pressing closer to Martin, expecting any moment to either be struck with the door—depending on where Martin had positioned them—or discovered. But the noise sounded a bit distant, and when Jon risked a glance up, he could see only the slightest hint of light. They were in another room without a door; Jonah was in the tunnel, and evidently walking past. The light drew closer, paused outside the room, and suddenly got brighter. Jon held his breath and tried to somehow get closer to Martin, praying as he did so that he wasn’t hurting him. Evidently, though, they had managed to position themselves in the one place Jonah couldn’t easily see from the doorway, and their shadows didn’t give them away. He made a small noise that somehow managed to indicate suspicion and relief and disappointment all at once, and then the light lessened and the footsteps faded away.

Jon waited until it was utterly silent once more before he exhaled in a single, shaking breath and sagged against Martin. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Martin assured him, and Jon believed him. “Are you okay?”

“Shoulder’s a bit sore,” Jon began, then stopped. He knew that wasn’t what Martin meant. “No.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“N-not here. Let’s…let’s see if we can get back to—closer to the steps.”

“Okay, sure.” Martin brushed his lips against Jon’s cheek.

Now that Jonah was past them, they didn’t have to be as furtive as they’d been before, but they were still cautious. Jon didn’t dare turn on the torch until they were back in the room they’d been staying in—mercifully undisturbed—with the door closed behind them. The instant he did, however, he stepped back into Martin’s arms. Martin leaned against the door and slid down it until they were seated on the floor, curled around each other and Jon more than half in Martin’s lap. They sat for a long moment like that, catching their breath.

“Want to talk about it?” Martin finally asked.

Jon didn’t, not really, but if they didn’t talk about it now, he knew they never would. He sighed heavily and slid off Martin’s lap, then tucked himself up next to him and rested his head on Martin’s shoulder. Martin stroked his shoulder gently as he waited for Jon to speak.

“Jonah,” he said. “He was—he was looking through the tunnels. I-I didn’t know he ever came down here in our time, but…I think he was looking to see how far Past Me got in his explorations. There’s a—a ring of worms—you remember, Tim mentioned it, and I did in my tape, too?”

“I remember.” Martin’s voice was neutral and calm.

“I think—I think that’s the way to the Panopticon. I think Jane Prentiss was trying to get down there, to—to see what the Eye had at its center. Obviously we’ll never know for sure. I got there when I was doing my explorations, but I don’t think Past Me has. And Tim and Sasha didn’t mention seeing it…I don’t know.” Jon swallowed. “But I-I could see his face, I could…all I could think about was everything he did to us. Not telling us about Sasha, letting Tim suffer just to make my suffering worse. Torturing Melanie, trapping Basira, blackmailing Daisy. Framing me for murder, trying to isolate me, making everything I went through as painful as he could. Using me to end the world. God, everything he did to you. His face when he—” He broke off and pressed his cheek against Martin’s shoulder, grounding himself, reminding himself that Martin was there and alive. He’d survived. They both had. Jonah Magnus hadn’t succeeded in taking everything Jon loved away from him, despite his best efforts. “I wanted to kill him.”

Martin’s arm tightened around Jon’s shoulders, and Jon felt the gentle pressure of his kiss on the top of his head. “But you didn’t.”

“No.” Jon exhaled heavily. There was no censure in Martin’s voice, no annoyance, but he still felt a small surge of guilt. “I—I couldn’t, Martin. I wasn’t—the words weren’t there.”

Martin was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well, we are in the tunnels—you’re distanced from the Eye. And if Leitner was anywhere nearby, you might’ve been caught in his…weird little bubble or spell or whatever it was, like with that camera.”

“I know, but—”

“And,” Martin continued, as if Jon hadn’t spoken, “you’re hungry. Don’t try to deny it, I know you. You hadn’t had time to find any statements before Jonah came down, and you probably expended more energy than you should have down there, even if you weren’t using the Eye’s powers to do it. We both knew you were probably going to need to be at full capacity to take him out. I’m not surprised you couldn’t do it right now.”

Jon huffed. “And you’re just…okay with that?”

“Honestly? No. If I’d had a more mundane weapon, I can’t promise I wouldn’t have tried to pull a Melanie on him,” Martin replied. Jon laughed, a bit unwillingly, at the turn of phrase. “You’re not the only one who wants to kill him for everything he’s done, you know. I wanted that even before…you know, the end of the world. All the reasons you said and then some. Like you told the others that first night…I’m not fond of anything that tries to take the people I love away from me, and you’re at the top of that list. But as much as I want him dead, I don’t blame you for not trying if you weren’t sure you could do it.”

“Really?” Jon looked up at Martin. “Because I do. Blame myself, I mean. I should have—”

Martin cut him off with a gentle, tender kiss that bled the tension from Jon’s body and relaxed whatever he had left that passed for a soul. When Martin pulled back, he rested his forehead against Jon’s. “Jon. Our whole plan depends on catching him off-guard. If he knows we’re coming, we’re doomed. And if we don’t take him out the first time, we’ll never get another chance. Eventually we’re going to have to say ‘we won’t get any more ready than this’, but right now’s not that time.”

Jon couldn’t help the wry chuckle that slipped out of his throat. “When did you develop patience?”

“I didn’t. Believe me. I want this over with as much as you do. Maybe more.” Martin’s free hand came up to rub absently at his chest. Jon reached out to cover it, trapping it against the spot directly over the bullet scars. Martin’s heart beat so strongly Jon could feel it even through Martin’s hand. “But the thing about being blind…if you rush, you’re going to fall, unless you know the space really, really well. You’ve got to take your time and be sure you know the way.”

“Or have help.”

“Or have help,” Martin agreed. “I have you. You have me. We’ll figure this out together, Jon. I won’t pretend I’m okay with Jonah still being out there, still…able to mess with their lives, but I am okay with waiting until we’re sure it’ll stick, and not kill anyone else in the process.”

Jon wondered, as he often did, how he’d been so lucky as to have this man in his life, let alone love him this much. “We can do it. I know we can do it. I-it just…wasn’t the right time. I just didn’t want you to think…”

Martin frowned. “Think what? That you’d changed your mind? That you didn’t think he—God, Jon, I know you better than that.”

“I worry,” Jon confessed softly, dropping his head heavily back onto Martin’s shoulder. “Not about what you think of me, I know you better than that, but…I worry that I’ll lose myself so much to the Eye, to the fears, that I’ll…think he’s right. Let him live. Try to come up with another way o-or something like that. My God, he almost killed you right in front of me and—” He broke off and curled tightly into Martin; Martin pulled him into a tight embrace. “I-if I ever got to the point where I could ignore that…”

Martin was silent for a long time. At last, he said in a soft, incredibly serious voice, “Jon. If you ever got to the point where you genuinely believed him, where you’d honestly gone over to his side? I would kill you myself.”

Jon let those words flow through him, let himself seriously examine each one. They were spoken seriously and sincerely. Martin wasn’t joking, wasn’t making a darkly humorous quip or a hyperbolic suggestion. A small pool of fear Jon hadn’t even realized was locked away inside him flooded out in a single, drawn-out sigh.

“Promise?”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#jonmartin #mild profanity #frank discussions of death #slight panic attacks

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