#perhaps there are things he really cares about

[shomatoriashi]

12/27/24; 10:00am

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ nightly rendezvous ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

notes: lmao i’m going to try my best to get everyone’s card, but if it doesn’t happen, at least i can say i wrote the appropriate drabbles for my fave lads men (⺣◡⺣)♡ this is nowhere close to canon and is just written for my own, self-indulgence ♡ this is currently an unedited mess of a thirst post, but i'll make any necessary changes when this is posted.

warnings: blood mention in rafayel's.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

seeing your form in such a tight dress was doing things to sylus, making his mind go hazy as a considerable tent was seen against the front of his dress pants-

which put a considerable damper on his plans.

there was party going on tonight to celebrate the new year, however, just seeing your delectable form dressed in such pretty silk made him think of other plans to tend to. as you brush back your hair, sylus steps closer to you, planting his lips against the side of your neck while huskily whispering your name.

"i've changed my mind. perhaps we can stay inside instead." you tremble, feeling the way sylus slides his hand down your form, tracing at your figure as you were left clinging to the edge of the bathroom counter.

"what do you mean, sy?" a shiver runs through you when he presses a lingering kiss against your temple, "what i mean is... i would much rather keep you here with me, where i ravish you on our bed instead of spending our time surrounded by a crowd."

a gasp manages to escape from your parted lips when sylus carries you within his powerful embrace, forcing your arms to wrap around his neck when he holds your high heels with his free hand. the mere sight of his dilated eyes and labored breathing causes a new wave of desire to course through you, causing you to lean forward as you pressed a series of kisses against the base of his throat.

you could feel the vibrations of his rich laughter against your lips as he gently grips at your waist, "if you don't wish to lie down, we better make the most of our time before dawn."

arriving at his bedroom, he tosses aside your heels while settling himself against a chair, pulling you into his lap while delving his fingers into your hair. heat courses through your veins when you felt his clothed erection brushing against your inner thigh. the sudden friction causes you to bite down on your bottom lip as you settle yourself directly over him, grinding your stained panties against his erection.

another rich chuckle fills your ears, and you found yourself giving in to sylus's own desires, not even caring about the party as you sought your own release. your lover continues to coax you, bringing your body impossibly closer to his when his lips crashes into yours in a searing kiss. "you really don't want me to leave, do you?" he murmurs against your lips, making you let out a shuddering breath in response.

your moans echo throughout the room, allowing sylus's desperate kiss to further fuel the ache between your legs. he delves his tongue within you, tasting you fully while standing back to his full height. he doesn't break his connection with you, blindly taking you to bed as he falls with you against the plush mattress.

sylus was the first to pull away from the kiss, his smirk growing ever so slightly at the sight of your swollen lips left in the wake of his passionate kiss. he traces at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, saying your name with an amused chuckle as he slides up the fabric of your dress. "you haven't changed your mind, have you...?"

words failed you, and you could only manage to give him a mere shake of your head, feeling his large hand cup at your knee before spreading your legs fully for him. without removing your dress, a sly expression was seen on his face when he manages to grip at the waistband of your panties before pulling it down with one, swift motion.

his actions makes your breathing hitch, with your hands gripping at the sheets below you. hunger paints his every expression when he unbuttons his dress shirt while adjusting his pants. "looks like i can't hold back any longer, kitten."

never once breaking eye contact with you, you gasp the moment sylus pushes his cock deep inside of you, the squelching sounds of your walls clenching around him causes red hot pleasure to blossom throughout your very veins. his pace was slow, yet oh so steady and powerful that you could feel each and every inch of him. his shaft purposely brushes against your hardened clit, making your soft mewls turn into cries of desperation for him.

and when sylus kept you in his bed, you willingly welcomed in the new year by getting impaled over and over again by the man you have always loved.

zayne's eyes darkened, watching you converse with his male colleagues as he felt the tendrils of envy slowly taking a hold of his heart.

when he invited you as his plus one for this conference, all he wanted was to keep you by his side at all times. yet the moment he had to leave to discuss some matters with the other physicians-

they had to surround you, like vultures getting their taste of fresh meat.

adjusting his glasses, zayne takes quick strides towards you, standing protectively in front of you while stiffly telling the other man, "she's with me."

he doesn't wait for the other man to respond, simply whisking you away from the ballroom as you struggled to keep up with his steps. your confused cries of his name falls on deaf ears as zayne wraps his arms around your frame, choosing to carry you bridal style when he enters the elevators. a strange sense of urgency fills him when he hits the button leading to his floor where all he could think about was erasing that man's casual touch-

running on autopilot, zayne quickly swipes his key card and enters his room before slamming the door shut. once he was alone with you, he pins you against the desk, the jealousy felt burning through his veins as it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "you belong to me, you know that, right?"

his hand grips at your chin, meeting your captivating gaze as you give him a simple nod, "of course, always- but why are you so-"

you gasp when he leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. zayne knew that this wasn't his typical behavior, yet when it came to you (always always always you) he couldn't stop himself. he allows the tip of his tongue to trace at the border of your lips, diving inside the moment you opened up for him.

when the need for air proves to be too much, the man reluctantly pulls away first, lips already latching on to your shoulder while telling you, "i'll admit there's something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line..."

with a click of his tongue, he takes off his glasses before shamelessly breathing in your scent, basking in the way your body trembles oh so sweetly for him with anticipation. as if drunk off of your mere presence, he trails kisses down your body, lingering against your heaving breasts as he nuzzles his face against your skin, "because of you... everything is spiraling out of control."

he feels the way your body writhes beneath him, becoming dimly aware of your words when you tell him, "zayne, i can't think straight... y-you probably had too much to drink-" a gasp manages to escape from you the moment he cups the area between your legs, feeling his fingertips explore the dampness stained against your panties.

"are you trying to escape? you keep saying that i'm drunk. so, must i always stay sober?" zayne shakes his head while letting out a bitter laugh. "as if i could ever stay sober while in your presence."

he suddenly carries you toward the bedroom, forcing your arms to wrap around his neck to help with steadying yourself. "this is all your doing... did you want to see me like this? all needy and desperate for you?"

with the bed in sight, zayne settles you at the edge of it. your eyes refused to look away from him when he takes off the rest of his clothes as he allows the fabric to fall to the ground. your throat turns dry, seeing his proud erection settled between his legs as your walls clenched almost painfully with need in response.

you allow zayne's large hands to grip at the fabric of your dress, sliding it off of you while leaving you bare except for your heels that was left hanging by your ankles. with a reverent touch, zayne frames at your face before completely sheathing himself inside of your slick folds, moving deep inside of you with an expertise of a man who was achingly obsessed with you.

the force of his movements makes your heaving breasts bounce in response, feeling his cock invade every inch of you as you kept on crying out to him. taking advantage of his own strength, zayne grips at your backside to thrust into you even further, basking in the silky feel of your walls wrapped so tightly around him.

"you're mine..." zayne repeats that single phrase over and over again throughout the night, never once stopping as you were given little choice but to surrender yourself to his every desire.

xavier couldn't contain himself the moment you both came home from the new years eve party held by the association-

everything about you set his heart aflame. from your kind smile to the beautiful dress that hugged your form-

xavier was completely obsessed with you. desire was felt coursing through his veins, yet he had to behave and act cordial throughout the party, allowing you to catch up with friends while eating the delicious catering provided at the party.

but now that he manages to convince you to come home with him, he was ready to pounce on you, to trap you in his arms as he kept you with him until he was satisfied.

becoming dimly aware of your attempts at banter with him, xavier simply basks in the sweet sounds of your voice before allowing his hands to grip at your knees. "don't move... and don't say a word."

he gestures at you to lay back against his bed all while pulling your legs closer to him. "uhm... xavier, what are you... doing?"

xavier simply hums while spreading your legs, "you know what i'm about to do, starlight." once your thighs were spread for him, he grips at your panties and slides them off of you, allowing them to hang precariously against your ankles before kneeling in front of you. he breathes in the sweet scent of your center before surging forward, allowing his tongue to trace at your pussy lips.

you cried out to him, forcing yourself to keep quiet as you bit down at the back of your hand. xavier's tongue was felt traveling inside of your slick heat, drawing out even more of your arousal. your thighs automatically trap him against your heat, feeling the way you shamelessly grind on his face, trying to reach your high.

yet the moment xavier pinches at your swollen clit, you lost control of all of your senses, climaxing into his awaiting mouth. your boyfriend drinks up everything you had to offer with a grunt of your name, and you successfully became putty in his hands.

a dazed expression was seen on your face when xavier picks you up, carrying you towards the wall before pressing your front against it. a low hiss escapes from your parted lips when you felt the cold seep into you, further hardening your nipples when you heard the shifting of fabric coming from behind you. you look off to the side, only to let out a breathless moan when you felt xavier's cock enter you from this new angle.

he thrusts the entirety of his cock in and out of you at a rapid pace, fucking you into the wall as you saw stars with each new movement. trembling at all of the sensations that invade you each time xavier's hips met with yours, you nearly fell to the ground had it not been for xavier's tight grip around your waist.

"you feel so good..." his hot whisper was settled against your ear as tears of pleasure cascades down your cheeks, with xavier kissing every salty droplet away before admitting to you, "and it looks like i won't be easily satisfied tonight..."

"this is my room, you're the one that walked in here." his powerful arms were felt wrapped around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him when he whispers in your ear, "so, you'll take responsibility for whatever happens, right?"

rafayel was completely correct in his assumptions, that you had willingly come into his room with the sole purpose of seducing him.

something about his casual smile seen during the whole exhibit made a surge of yearning course through you, being captivated by his every movement. your gaze never once strayed too far away from him, as your mind kept fantasizing of ways to get him beneath you-

yet it seemed like your fantasies were quick to become a reality when rafayel crashes his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. you moan at the sensation, opening up to him only to playfully bite against his bottom lip. a gasp was heard coming from the lemurian, with him moving away from you to touch at his bottom lip.

a single droplet of blood was seen forming against his lip as a devilish thought comes to you. with a soft giggle, you lean forward to press another chaste kiss against his lips all while licking that single droplet away, earning a groan from him as you pulled away.

"what a naughty princess you are." he manages to whisper against your ear before tightly wrapping his arms around you, leading you towards the bed while keeping you pressed against him. you hear him letting out a hum of your name, settling you on his lap while giving you a series of playful kisses against your lips.

once.

twice.

then three times-

his kisses were no heavier than dew, leaving you wanting for more each time-

your hands shakily frame at his face, with your eyes narrowed in response before managing to push him back against the bed. his dress shirt remains open for you, and you could see the insignia glowing a faint, orange hue against his chest. rafayel meets your gaze through his thick lashes, allowing your lips to perfectly slot against his in a deep kiss that conveyed your hunger for him.

you kept kissing him, not stopping even when the need for air was burning through your lungs. you couldn't bring yourself to pull away from him, allowing his hands to delve into your hair before suddenly shifting you once more, leaving your back pressed against the bed with rafayel now hovering over you.

"i've changed my mind..." he places a lingering kiss at the back of your hand before breaking what appeared to be a silver bracelet, tossing it aside while settling himself between your legs, "i'm not going anywhere."

the ache felt between your legs becomes even more prominent, watching rafayel's every movement when he adjusts the fabric of his pants, freeing his cock as he worked on stroking himself to full hardness. neither of you were thinking clearly, and when you felt his large hand move your panties to the side before quickly impaling you-

your back arches against the bed in response, allowing rafayel to use your body for his own pleasure. you felt each and every swift pound against you, the sounds of your walls eagerly taking him in each time his hips met with your own was enough to make your juices surround him before staining at the sheets below you.

achingly aware of each and every response your body had to him, rafayel shakes his head while his hands grip at the sheets next to you. "fuck- this feels too good, way too good than normal." as if getting drunk off of the pleasure you were giving him, rafayel takes a hold of one of your legs before tossing it over his shoulder. with this new position, rafayel was felt reaching even deeper inside of you as you were certain your pleasure had increased by the tenfold as the tip of his cock was felt hitting that special spot over and over again, making you lost count the amount of times you had released yourself on him-

needless to say, you didn't get much sleep that night.

end notes: girlies.... all of my lads girlies.... HOW ARE WE FEELING AFTER THE REVEAL OF THAT BANNER HHHHHHH??? 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[i-will-steal-your-intestines]

this reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend a couple years ago, which I still haven't forgotten to this day.

we were talking, and she was very vitriolic in her speech, going on a rant about how violently she hates all men, and how she wishes all men could die or disappear, so the world would be rid of them, and such things.

now I was shocked by the way she was speaking, since I knew that she shared quite a close relationship with both her older brother and father. she often spoke fondly of them, and I’d even met her father, who my first impression of was that he seemed a very calm, friendly, and chill sort of guy. I'd seen them interact, joking and laughing together with an ease and familiarity, in a way that clearly showed the comfortable and loving relationship shared between them.

so, you can imagine how taken aback I was.

I asked her, "well aren't you generalising a bit? decent men do exist, we encounter them everyday. people like your father, your brother. would you condemn them too, condemn an entire group of people, just for the actions of some? how would your father and brother feel, hearing you say something like this?"

she told me that she didn't see anything wrong with what she'd said, and that she often said such things in their presence. she admitted it made them uncomfortable, perhaps even upset, but she didn't really care to stop.

that response, it shocked me more than anything else she'd said before. I just sat there, staring at her in silence, attempting to process what I'd just heard. I was in disbelief. I remember feeling disgusted, horrified, but more than anything, I was deeply disappointed.

It was awful. I couldn't believe she could be so insensitive, especially towards her own family. she’d gone too far.

i see "men bad" jokes as very similar to suicide jokes. like making them every once in a while isn't the worst thing, but if you Keep making them constantly. it DOES shape how you start thinking and you WILL become a more unpleasant and bitter person and also make people around you uncomfortable. and sometimes you just gotta choose to not make or engage with certain jokes, even if they are amusing to you, because its just not who you wanna be

[nqueso-emergency]

i seriously don’t understand what bucktommy shippers see in tommy though. genuinely. he starts the show as a racist misogynist and is reintroduced as somebody who has literally 0 defining character traits. he treated buck like a child. he didn’t know or care about the people in buck’s life or buck’s interests. you all claim that he’s had character growth since s2 but we never saw any evidence of that so why should we believe he’s changed? like i’m not even trying to hate here and i really don’t gaf about buddie, but seriously why are you guys so obsessed with tommy 😭

What I don't understand is why some people, like you, anon, put the entire "racist and misogynistic" atmosphere of the 118 under Gerrard completely on Tommy.

Yeah. He makes a racist joke towards Chim when he firsts comes into the 118 but no one stands up against it. In fact, people smirk at it. Even Eli. Eli explains the reason the 118 keeps Chim at arms length. I really wish people would actually watch the episode.

And if you want to get technical, we do see growth in Hen begins (time wise, Chim begins is first. Not Hen's) and when Hen shows up, Tommy is much more accepting of new people. In fact, he's interested in Hen until Gerrard opens his mouth, each time ultimately using his authority to intimidate and I know people hate this accusation but Chim never stands up for Hen in front of Gerrard or the others either.

And that's because they all know how difficult it is working under Gerrard.

By Bobby begins, it's clear that Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Chim all get along. And honestly by saying he's had no growth is an insult to both Hen and Chim's judge of character. Do you think they would willingly hang out with someone outside of work who they felt was actually racist and misogynistic?? Hell no. Didn't you watch the stuff with Jonah?? Hen hated him.

As for having no defining character traits, you're very wrong. Tommy shows up. For friends, for the wedding date, for coffee after the disaster date. He includes Eddie in a lot of his interests. He showed up at the hospital for Buck when he got hurt. He never told Buck he was stupid for believing in the curse and he wasn't embarrassed to be in public with Buck covered in boils. He stayed the night with Buck, sleeping on a tiny ass couch just to be near him. He also attended a funeral for a mummified cowboy and even dressed up.

All those things cover the shit you've said that Tommy doesn't do.

He does care for Buck's interests. He does care for the people in Buck's life. He went to a fucking zoom birthday party for Christopher ffs.

Not to mention, Tommy has acknowledged multiple times that he wasn't a good person back then. He even broke up with Buck even though he was clearly falling for Buck (and I believe already has).

Saying you don't care about buddie doesn't give you the right to say you don't see something that others do.

I don't see buddie happening. Never have. But people can still ship them. That's not a problem, and honestly, I'd never ask someone in fandom WHY they like a character or a ship or even a trope.

The issue is when people are obsessed with a character they don't like. That is where we are in the 911 fandom and it's why there's so much hate.

So. Perhaps. You should send this ask to a buddie bnf and ask them why they're so obsessed with Tommy. Especially now that he's broken up with Buck.

[nyankochan]

Unwrap Me

Synopsis: you and Leona visit his family for the holidays. You prepared a special gift for him but can’t quite give it in front of his relatives

Content: Leona x fem!reader, afab!reader, reader implied to be Leona’s finance, oral (male and female receiving), dirty talk, penetration, rough sex, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple rounds, breeding kink

w/c: 3K

A/n: todays my birthday (*^_^*) and it’s also Christmas so as a gift, Leona Kingscholar. A happy holidays to everyone

Just one week.

Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

That was how long Leona had to put up with his family for the holidays. That was it. One short week. If he kept repeating that to himself, then perhaps being around his extended family would be manageable.

As long as he knew there was a deadline, he could tolerate Cheka’s begging to bake Christmas cookies and his brother’s pestering about him coming home more often. He could put up with his sister-in-law’s insistence on the family taking updated photos in coordinated pajamas and Neji’s nagging about whatever he chose to complain about Leona not doing right at the moment.

He could handle it.

That’s what he told himself. But after the first forty-eight hours, Leona’s patience already began to wane.

Usually, Leona would hover close to you, using your proximity as an excuse to avoid interacting with his family. But of course, they, for some reason, all seemed to hog your attention from the moment you arrived at the Afterglow Savannah. Cheka wanted to decorate the tree with you. His sister-in-law took you away with his mother to talk wedding details and planing Leona didn’t quite care to participate in. The only time he got to see you was at dinner, because often times, you’d either come back to your room late or he’d find you already asleep.

The final straw was Christmas Eve. Leona had hoped for some time alone with you only for you to get swept away by Farena to help wrap gifts. It was well after 1am by the time you came to bed due to the sheer number of gifts he had bought Cheka.

At that point, damn Christmas and damn the gifts. All Leona wanted at this point was you and a moment of alone time before he went mad from having to watch another corny Christmas movie or pretend to like his sister-in-law’s awful cooking.

“Leona, don’t be such a grinch, smile a little. It’s Christmas!” Farena chided, making the younger Kingscholar roll his eyes. It was finally Christmas Day, and of course, Cheka woke everyone up with his excited yells at five in the morning. Needless to say, Leona was less than thrilled about having his sleep interrupted because “Santa came.”

“Be grateful I’m even here,” Leona muttered under his breath.

The family gathered in the living room, the adults sleepily making their ways in with coffee in hand and an excited five year old at the center of it all. Leona sat on the far end of the couch, immediately closing his eyes and trying to ignore Cheka’s questions about which gifts he could open first. Dressed in your robe, You plop down beside him and lean against his shoulder. You look exhausted, but hide it well with a smile.

For the next couple hours, everyone opens their own gifts. You got a few nice things from your wishlist, Leona gifting you the most expensive (despite your protests) being a new set of headphones you were eyeing. And he was quite pleased with one of your gifts to him, new spell drive equipment, among other things he received from his brother, parents, and Neji.

“Oh, Leona, I got one more gift for you,” you whisper. There’s a cheeky smile on your face as you reach into your robe’s pocket and pull out a small wrapped black box.

“Huh?” Leona’s ears twitched in slight annoyance. “We only agreed to do one gift this year.”

“I know but you’ll really like this one. But it’s for your eyes only. M’kay?” You kiss his cheek when you’re called by Farena’s wife to help make breakfast. After giving one last wink to Leona you skip off.

Confused yet curious as to what you had planned, he undoes the silk red ribbon holding the box together. Carefully, Leona lifts the lid. There’s nothing but a bunch of tissue paper inside. He pulls the paper out and at the bottom of the box is a small piece of the same red ribbon and a photo. Upon seeing what the picture is actually of, Leona immediately closes the box back before anyone else could accidentally see what was meant clearly for his eyes only.

“That little…ha…” Leona sighs, a grin spreading across his face.

He definitely wasn’t expecting that. But he surely was going to enjoy every bit of this gift. And if Cheka was allowed to be impatient, waking everyone up at the ass crack of dawn to open gifts, then Leona felt justified to do the same. He wanted to unwrap the rest of his gift now.

In the kitchen, you were helping the women make breakfast. You half paid attention to their conversations, mind drifting to Leona and what he thought of your little gift. You were quite excited and wished you could’ve seen his instant reaction to the surprise you had left in the box.

“Oi, Leona, if you’re not going to help in here then get out,” Farena’s wife scolded. You look up from what you were mixing to see your fiancé who has quite an unreadable expression on his face. But the intense look in his emerald eyes told you all you needed to know.

He opened your gift.

And you were in for it.

“I need to borrow Y/n,” Leona said, pushing past the lioness to you. “I’ll bring her right back. I forgot to have her open up one more gift from me.”

“What! Wait-“

“Just let them go,” Leona’s mom chuckles. She gives you a knowing wink, shooing you two away.

“But-“ Farena’s wife begins to protest.

Leona ignores her, grabs you by the arm, and drags you out the kitchen quickly. His pace is fast as he walks through the hall with a clear destination in mind. You can’t help but giggle, antsy excitement coursing through your veins. The two of you arrive at your shared room and he immediately locks the door.

“Leo~I was busy helping,” you feign innocence. “It was rude to interrupt.”

“I don’t care,” Leona said , taking a step closer to you. “Your little note was cute. Expecting me to wait until tonight for my gift?”

“Patience is a virtue you know.”

“And I don’t recall ever claiming to be a patient or virtuous man.” He takes a seat on the bed, spreading his legs slightly. Like a king on his throne. “Take it off.”

You undo the tie around your robe, letting the fabric slide down your shoulders slowly. Leona’s eyes seemed to dilate as he took in the attire you wore underneath: A sheer red baby doll. White lacy under garments and stockings with red bow detailing everywhere.

“You’re such a vixen wearing that underneath while around my family,” Leona lets out a shaky breath as he pulls you closer to him. “You did this on purpose, did ya?”

“Mhm maybe,” you tease, shivering as his thumb traces across your hips. “To be fair, not being able to see was equally annoying on my part. You don’t know how many boring meetings I had to have with your mother about flower arrangements and table decor. But she should get the others to leave us alone for a few hours.”

“Yeah? And how’d you convince her to do that?”

Your grin is wicked. “I might’ve promised her a new grand baby if I could have you to myself on Christmas.”

Leona’s eyes widened briefly before a smirk settled on his face. He could feel his cock stir within his pants. “Well, then, I guess we should deliver.” Leona pulls you into his lap, smashing his lips against yours in a frivolous and desperate kiss. He groans against your mouth as your hips rock against his, intense heat blossoming between the two of you. “You know,” Leona mumbles, “you’re almost too pretty to unwrap. I could admire this gift for hours.”

“I thought you were impatient,” you pant. Leona’s hands tightened around your waist. His teeth graze across your neck making you shiver.

“I am. But I still want to admire my beautiful fiancé.”

“B-but this gift was for you.” you whimper out as Leona nips at your neck, squeezing your breast through the bralette. “So let me admire you too.”

You slide out of Leona’s lap to kneel between his legs. His thighs tense as you trace your delicate hands up them to the drawstring of his pajama pants. The crotch bulges, the fabric held high by his erection. He groans when you grope him.

“Don’t tease me,” Leona warns. “Otherwise I’ll make you regret it.”

“So impatient,” you laugh, pulling his cock out of the confines of his boxers.

Leona lets out a shaky moan as your mouth envelops around the swollen head of his cock. You immediately take him deep, tears springing against your eyelashes as you begin to suck. “Fuck don’t stop,” Leona groans. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it. His hips jerk up. Your tongue tracing the sensitive vein on his shaft. “Fuck. I’m gonna move you. Let me know if it’s too much.”

“Mhm.”

His other hand grips your head. He then roughly thrusts up while simultaneously forcing your head down his length. You whimper as you begin to gag. Tears trickle down your cheeks as Leona continues to fuck your mouth, his low grunts turning into quick pants. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock like this. Gonna swallow all of me okay?”

Leona’s eyes scrunch shut as he comes down your throat. He lets out a shaky moan, keeping a tight hold on your head so you can’t pull away. Your body trembles. Your eyes roll back as the lightheaded feeling makes you dizzy.

“Swallow,” Leona commands. And you do, opening your mouth to show you had. “Heh. Come here.”

His hands settle on your waist as he takes in your lingerie. His gaze a mix of adoration and lust that leaves you feeling bashful under the heat of his stare. “So fucking pretty.” Your cheeks warm and you stare at the floor, making him chuckle. “Why so shy now? You were quite bold earlier leaving that photo in that box with your cute little note. What did it say again?”

You climb back into his lap. Your breath hitches as his cock brushes against your clothed clit. Your panties soaked and needy, desperately wanting Leona in your most intimate region. “I don’t remember,” you tease. “Maybe remind me?”

Leona grins. His hands are soft against your skin. “I think it said something like…hurry up. And what else? Your pretty pussy is waiting to be unwrapped?”

“Hm that sounds about right. So then-“ You rock your hips against Leona’s. “What are you still waiting for?”

His mouth is on yours again, sucking all the remaining air out of your lungs. The two of you tumble into the bed, tearing at each other’s clothes until there’s nothing separating the two of you except your lacy panties. Leona has you pinned underneath him. He traces down your jaw and the side of your neck, biting down on the sensitive spot near your clavicle.

“Since your pretty pussy was wrapped up so nicely for me, it is only fair if I have a little taste, no?”

Leona settles in between your legs, pressing his nose against your cunt to inhale your intoxicating smell. He suppresses a groan. Your scent alone was addicting. It was like he was drunk on you, and he couldn’t think about anything but the way you’d feel around his cock. But first-

He pulls down your panties with his teeth. Dragging the thin fabric around the curve of your plush thighs before dropping them on the floor. Your folds are glistening with your arousal, pretty and puffy. And all his.

With a tight grip on your thighs, Leona takes a lick at your core, pressing his rough tongue against your pussy’s lips. The first wave of pleasure shoots through you which has you trembling. “You taste so good,” Leona groans. He eats you out greedily, tongue moving in and out of your folds.

“Fuck Leona!” Your back arches off the bed as Leona nips at your clit. He buries his face deeper in between your thighs, bringing you to the brink of release. Your body tries to writhe away from him, but his grip keeps you pinned down. You come with a low cry, Leona’s name on your tongue.

Leona drinks you down. His cock is now painfully stiff against his abdomen. All just from the addicting taste of your arousal. He stifles a groan, wrapping his hand around his shaft. He was so hard it fucking hurt.

“I’m going to fuck you in every way possible,” Leona says, licking his lips clean. The tip of his cock prods at your wet entrance. He grips your hips, trying to ease himself in. “I’m going to pump you so full of my cum that there’s no way you won’t leave this room without getting pregnant. After all, you were the one that went behind my back and promised my mother a grand kid.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to whisper, “then you better get to it.”

Leona growls. He pushes into your cunt, groaning at how you squeeze around him. His head drops to your shoulder as his body trembles as a wave of pleasure courses through him. A low curse leaves his lips.

“L-Leo? Y-you okay?” You whimper.

“Just give me a minute.” He kisses you, softly this time. “I’m trying to control myself so that I don’t hurt you.”

“It’s okay. You can be a little rough.”

Leona’s ears twitch. He could feel his dick throb at your words. You groan as his size seems to swell.

“Heh, you asked for it.” Leona folds your legs to your chest making you gasp. “Don’t go begging me to stop later. Because I’m not until you’re carrying my cubs.”

“Please fuck me, Leona,” you mewl.

Rolling his hips, Leona pulled his cock from your hole and with a sharp snap, drove himself back into you. The sheer force of his scorching length shot the first wave of pleasure through the both of you. The two of you let out low moans.

Your body shuddered slightly anticipation. You clung to Leona and dug your nails in his shoulders trying to keep him close. That first penetration gave way to a succession of increasingly rougher thrusts that took your breath away.

“A-ah L-leona t-too much,” you babble. Leona growls, pushing your legs closer, burying his cock even deeper. “Leona!”

“I told you-“ Leona grunts, continuing his brutal pace. “You asked for it. You wanted it rough.” His cock kisses that particular sweet spot, making your insides tense. You cry out as your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. Your legs shake over his shoulder, and a tight pressure coils within your stomach.

“Fuck you’re squeezing me so much,” Leona groaned. “You like when I pound into you like this, don’t ya? Your pussy’s gonna fuckin’ kill me.” Your nails rake into his back, leaving bright red marks. You clamp down on his shoulder, biting so hard you broke the skin. Leona lets out a low hiss. “I’m gonna come-“

A loud moan left his lips. His hips stilled and his release hit. You shivered feeling yourself be filled while your own orgasm hit, this time with more intensity. Leona slowly pulled out and sat back on his heels. His seed leaks from your swollen sex on to the bed sheets. You let out a quiet whimper and push your fingers into your cunt, trying to stop it from spilling out. Once more, his cock stirs, the carnal desire within him burning.

“Are you okay?” Leona swallows, trying to maintain a sense of control. You sleepily nod. “Good.”

You squeak as you’re suddenly and roughly manhandled. Leona flips you on to your hands and knees, shoving your face into the pillows. “L-Leona-“

“Sorry, kitten-“ You gasp as he enters once more, his thick cock stretching your walls until you feel so full of him. Leona squeezes your hips, pushing his cock deeper. “but I want to enjoy my gift a little longer.”

~*~

You and Leona had been gone for hours.

Breakfast passes without your presence. And needless to say, neither Farena nor Neji are pleased. It is only due to Farena’s mother’s insistence that the two don’t venture off to look for the missing family members.

“Just leave them be,” the older lioness would dismiss.

“But mother, Leona-“ Farena huffed.

“It’s fine. They’re probably busy with wedding stuff. Some things they need to figure out on their own as a couple.”

You and Leona don’t emerge until right before dinner, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. Like you hadn’t snuck off to fuck for a couple hours.

“Auntie Y/n!” Cheka excitedly runs over to you. You bend down, despite the ache in your hips and lower back to catch his hug. Cheka gives you an odd look as you pick him up. He looks at you then to Leona, back to you and then his uncle. It’s like he’s searching for something and when he doesn’t find it, he sulks in disappointment.

“Whatcha looking for Cheka?” Farena asks.

“Auntie said she and Leona would give me a cousin for Christmas, but I don’t see them.” The cub continues to pout.

Immediately, your face explodes red, and Leona rubs his temple in annoyance. The situation doesn’t improve as now the attention is on the two of you and what you were most likely doing in your absence. Leona and Farena’s mother only laughs in amusement. She spent the last several hours covering for you, so if you didn’t have a grandchild for her in the next nine months she’d be highly disappointed.

[minswriting]

i have so many thoughts and all of them are inappropriate so here is post prison spencer vibes

nsfw | mdni | post-prison spencer x reader | hand-job, whimpering, some praise

spencer was different when he came out of prison. he was quieter, angrier, a time bomb that could tick at any moment. he hardly spoke unless spoken to. you guys hadn’t even slept together yet due to the emotional turmoil happening in spencer’s brain. which is why when he came home from work, all annoyed and bothered as he pulled at his tie and threw his things to the side, you had taken the initiative.

you waited until he was sat on the couch, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of it as he rubbed his temples, before you plopped yourself on his lap. spencer stopped rubbing his temples, opening his eyes to look at you, the first time he had really looked at you since he got out. instinctively his hands moved to your waist.

“wh-what-“ spencer began before you interrupted him by moving your hand to his crotch, palming him through his slacks. he let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock hardened in his slacks. had you know it would’ve been this easy for him to submit, perhaps you would’ve done it sooner.

you leaned in, pressing soft kisses along spencer’s jawline. “let me take care of you,” you murmured seductively but softly in his ear as you palmed him.

“please,” he pleaded, his soft voice sending sparks to your core.

so you did exactly that. you got off of spencer’s lap, moving to the right side of the couch and putting your legs onto the cushions. “come here,” you said, beckoning spencer to sit between your legs. and he obliged, positioning himself so his back was against your chest. you immediately began kissing his neck, sliding your hands across his back before meeting at his stomach and sliding them down to his belt.

no words were spoken, there wasn’t a need for words when all spencer needed to do was feel. your fingers worked diligently to unbuckle his pants before unzipping them. your hand brushed against his cock through his boxers, causing spencer to inhale sharply.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you murmured hotly into his ear, nipping at spencer’s ear lobe. your hands moved underneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock. you grabbed his length, wrapping your fingers around it as you gave it a slow tug.

spencer let out a shaky breath, resting his hand on your knee. you brushed your thumb around the tip of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that had already formed. spencer shivered from the pleasure, unable to help the small whimper that left his mouth. “you sound so pretty for me,” you exclaimed, nuzzling your nose against spencer’s neck as you began pumping your hand a bit faster.

spencer let out a soft moan, leaning back so that his head was resting on your shoulder. with each pump of your hand, your thumb would brush the tip, causing spencer to buck his hips into your fist. his soft moans and whimpers were heaven in your ears, turning you on more than you already were. “my handsome boy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

“fuck,” spencer whisper-moaned, turning his face so that his lips were near yours. you leaned down to kiss his lips, moving your hand rhythmically up and down his cock. the months he spent in prison, he hadn’t gotten any sort of sexual release due to the stress of everything. and the few weeks he had been back, he had been too…frustrated in his own mind to even think about doing anything remotely sexual. but as he sat here with you jerking him off, all the anger and frustration he was feeling just simply faded away.

you moved your hand faster, causing spencer to breathe more rapidly. “o-oh fuck,” he whimpered, breaking the kiss. his eyes were closed shut as he thrusted his hips to meet your first. “i’m so close,” he moaned.

“go ahead, baby,” you encouraged, still moving your hand. “cum for me. you deserve it, my sweet boy.”

your words, your hand on his cock, the closeness, it all sent him into overdrive as his cock stiffened in your hand and a loud moan of your name escaped his lips. spencer began cumming, his legs shaking as he spilt his seed into your hand, bucking his hips as he did so. you pumped him through his orgasm, making sure to milk him thoroughly until he was shaking from the overstimulation. and when he finished, spencer relaxed against you, his beautiful brown eyes glistening with lust.

“you okay?” you asked, looking at spencer who’s head still rested on your shoulder.

“mhm,” he said, his brain finally at rest for the first time in a long time.

and that’s how you knew that an orgasm was exactly what spencer needed.

[occasionalsnippets]

I like to know more about Damian and Talia's relationship with fd au reader

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Talia keeps tabs on her beloved so obviously, she's well aware of when Bruce takes in a new Robin. And with that Robin comes an unexpected variable, his blood sister.

You do not catch her eye, not at first. Not until she finds Jason Todd and dunks him in a Lazarus pit. Not until she finds you being Robin while your little brother rests within the walls of Wayne manor. Not until you become the CEO of the failing Drake Industries.

The first thing of note, Jason Todd recognizes you and your brother. The pits are unpredictable in their effects and even she was uncertain of about much Jason Todd would remember after being taken out. Yet he knew of you. The feelings are vague, ambiguous at best but never malevolent. It is enough to curb some of his anger at being replaced.

It gives him enough stability that she introduces him to Damian.

The one thing that is blatantly obvious is that you care deeply for your brother, for Timothy Drake. The two of you are more affectionate than any other pair of siblings she has seen and certainly closer than she is with any of her own siblings.

The best indicator that you are Robin and not your brother is that you play. Not in some childish innocent way but rather sharply and precisely. You dance around the points you want to make but the meaning is clear nevertheless. She has been very careful to conceal Damian's existence from her beloved but he has not escaped your notice. Yet, you haven’t told Bruce. How curious.

Perhaps it is that curiosity that drives her to meet you as yourself and not as Robin. Her father takes an interest in your brother. She takes an interest in you.

Talia finds herself waiting in your office at Drake Industries on a weekday afternoon. There’s a pleasantly soft melody being played on a CD somewhere. When you enter, there is no surprise, only a slightest trace of amusement.

Without the mask, you are still every bit as sharp and cold as her favourite blades. It's a delight to have a conversation with you.

A thought arises. You would make a lovely sibling for her Damian.

She is under no delusion that Damian will settle nicely with Bruce at first but with you there to ease the transition, it just might work out better than anticipated. She may even introduce him sooner than she had originally planned.

You, on the other hand, have no idea why Talia Al Ghul of all people keeps showing up at your office. You guys don't really do much other than gossip (and occasionally, you fight off the assassins she sends) but it's become something of a routine. It's weird. You take it in stride.

As for Damian, there were several things his mother had told him before she left him on his father's doorstep. The first of which was that you were to become his sister.

There is no reason to doubt his mother's words. You spend most nights at the manor, you attend family dinners and you are very involved with the family's night life. In addition, you hold great influence over the household, enough to block his attempts at claiming his rightful role as Robin.

You are endlessly helpful in integrating him into the family. He is... reluctantly grateful for your assistance. The others are uncertain of what to do with him. Grayson and father coddle him. Todd does not remain within the manor often. Cain and Drake are distrustful. You remain steadfast and steady.

He can see why mother is fond of you. You are an acceptable sibling. Strong willed. Successful. Far better than the other riff raff father keeps around.

Eventually he does come around to everyone else, though he remains jealous of Tim who clearly holds your affection and the position of Robin. You tell him that it’s Tim’s decision whether he’ll pass on the title or not so he does end up somewhat playing nice with him.

You remain near the center of his life. He continues to go to you for advice, he hands you his marked tests and preens when you praise him, you allow him into the Batcave and teach him about the comms system, and so on.

And then, he finds out you do not consider yourself to be family. You call yourself Tim’s sister but not his. Damian’s first emotion is anger, then betrayal, then jealousy.

Are you simply dense? Have the others done something to make you believe you are unworthy? If so, it must be rectified. Immediately.

His mother had said that you were to be his sister and Damian Al Ghul-Wayne won’t accept anything less than what he is due.

[ropebuny]

oh no of course !!! you’re definitely right, thank you so much for this addition it’s an important aspect of it all to consider. my addition of the dom giving the sub impossible to complete tasks was brought up because I personally have had that happen to me and my ex partner, and I personally found it really hot because I had a suspicion that they were essentially lying in order to be hot and make me all needy and frustrated. and I knew that they would never actually be upset with me, we had a very trusting and respectful relationship so I definitely think that something as serious as indulging in an impossible task would DEFINITELY need some discussion beforehand between the two, the dom seeing how the sub feels about it. and I mentioned these impossible scenarios with the possibility of the sub using the safeword if they felt the need to do so in mind. but of course when it comes to the sub feeling the need to voice the safe word, feelings can already be extremely hurt and the trust feel disrespected. so I definitely agree with your addition heavily, maybe these people are just not compatible. this guy definitely should have just communicated with his sub about what he expects/wants/desires from her and her doing the same for him. my addition of impossible tasks was just meant to be something to be considered as a more fun way to deal with punishment, if maybe at the moment the ‘standard’ rules feel too ‘boring’ like the original guy complained about. and how it should only be implemented once the once the dom had full confidence that it wouldn’t hurt the sub emotionally, and knowing their personal limits since you really need to be extra careful in kink and especially when dealing with punishments. I know that I definitely would not appreciate if someone that I did not feel confident with just started to gaslight me like that, but when that scenario happened between me and my ex partner who I trusted wholeheartedly, it was a very hot and enjoyable experience for me. or maybe I am very trusting of my dom but in the moment, I am just not in the right headspace to be treated like that. so the dom should definitely be extra careful when dealing with such scenarios which can easily be hurtful to the sub on an emotional level, it’s not something to be careless with. it definitely all depends on the person and their limits, and the dom should never push these. I also never wanted my post as coming across as me saying the dom should implement these and only these, because as another person has voiced, these impossible to win tasks can definitely become old so so incredibly fast. my intention was to perhaps voice how kink doesn’t have to be ‘boring’ like that guy was complaining about, maybe the sub and dom can experiment with non ‘standard’ rules to how kink is believed to work. I wanted to bring attention to how kink can be and should be creative, but these scenarios definitely all depend on the person and what kind of sub they are and for the dom to be aware of the risks of implementing these strategies as to not hurt their sub emotionally.

kink communities definitely have a soft spot for brats while belittling subs who are “too good/obedient” as if that was even a thing… obedience, especially such that is soo devoted and dedicated like the op’s sub, should be praised and respected. while that guy seemed to not realise just how much of an honor it was for his sub to be so incredibly committed to being obedient for him

thank you so much for bringing up this important aspect of it all, I really appreciate you taking the time to open up and share your thoughts and disdain for it, I never meant my addition of impossible tasks to be seen as something to be used against subs to fuck with them and break them on and hurt them on an emotional level which they would not appreciate. it’s a sensitive issue and it definitely NEEDS to be handled with proper care and respect to the sub from the dom. and in my mind when I was adding that aspect of it to the text post, I had my personal experience in mind which was very enjoyable because I felt incredibly safe with the person I was doing it with and the fact that I caught onto the fact that they were fucking with me on purpose. but I definitely should have mentioned how careful you must be when dealing with gaslighting in play like that, because it’s definitely not something to just fuck around with carelessly, so thank you so much for your addition !!

saw a guy on here complaining about how disappointing it sometimes is to have such a good and obedient little girl, how when she obediently pulls up her skirt and counts all the spanks without messing up it gets boring because there’s no fun in it since it can’t be counted as a punishment anymore. my brother in christ how can you ever become bored or disappointed or feel that it’s not of any ‘fun’ when someone is so endlessly devoted to you and is so so obedient and obeys your every command and would do anything to make you proud. that level of obedience takes real dedication and a really strong willpower and a really strong and committed mind. you’d never catch me calling that boring or disappointing, ever. it’s the farthest thing from it, and frankly it should be praised instead

[wearysparrows]

I (Almost) Shot You Down

Summary: A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.

Chapter 1: A pillar of Salt

After being forced on leave from the Hunter's Association, you try to find respite outside of the safety of your apartment. By chance, you see Sylus engaged with someone else. You nearly take his head for it -- but he gets his way, in the end.

CW (18+): Sylus/reader, no use of ' Y/N,' Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Guns, MC is chronically depressed and exhausted, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Not Beta Read, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gambling, Reader is MC, AFAB reader is implied but no pronouns are used

A/N: This is my long, ongoing work that is still being updated. There are many more chapters up on ao3, and I'm working on getting them to tumblr. They're also being edited and improved from their original postings, so if you've read it before, there may be some changes as I upload!

You had finally begrudgingly accepted a few days off from your work with the Hunter’s Association, at the behest of your primary care physician (citing your declining physical health), your boss (citing your declining work performance), and your work partner (citing your declining mental health). The aforementioned meddlers had teamed up in an effort to finally tear you away from hunting, and would not allow you to return, despite your valiant attempts at protest. Work was your escape – from yourself, from the reality of your life, from your relationships – and everything in between. Hunting never changed, and you only got better at it. 

Your blatant disregard for yourself had failed to continue to go unnoticed by those who cared about you, though. Now, here you were, sitting in your empty apartment with only the all encompassing silence to keep you company. Left alone with your thoughts. Again. You hadn’t bothered to kick the lights on. Only the sound of the heater clicking filled the otherwise empty air around you. Your mind went where it always did, then. That day. No bodies were ever recovered. You didn’t even have something to bury. Caleb’s dog tags had found their way into your hands at some point, and you gazed at them listlessly in your palm. You could still feel the heat from the residual fires of the explosion radiating off of the metal. The warmth of his hand in yours. It was all you had left to prove he ever really existed.

You desperately needed to get out of the house. Anything was better than being here, and perhaps you would accidentally run into some wanderers while the ghost of you made its way about Linkon city. Throwing yourself at hordes of wanderers was the only coping mechanism that had shown any signs of taking your mind off of things. Sort of. With this scheme in mind, you quickly dressed yourself in your usual, strapping your gun to your thigh, concealing its comforting weight under your coat. It wasn’t like you were on forced bedrest, so a walk wouldn’t hurt, right? You stashed Caleb’s tags in your nightstand drawer, returning them to their safe place. You imagined that someday, they’d burn a hole in that wood, and you’d come back to nothing at all.

You left your apartment with no particular aim in mind, being sure to lock the door behind you. The biometric lock shifted into place with a soft whirr behind you. You may have been utterly exhausted, but you were never complacent. The weather outside wasn’t ideal for a walk, and the wind buffeted your hair about your face, and bit at your skin, as if you were offending it with your mere presence outside. Your eyes watered, protesting the assaults by the air. You opted to ignore these sensations, and continued to walk in what you thought was the direction of the nearby shopping district. Your appetite had long since left you – months ago now – but you knew you could find a small measure of pleasure in a cup of coffee on a day like today. 

After many twists and turns, your weary feet led you to an area you weren’t wholly familiar with. Maybe it was new? This was more upscale than your usual, you realized – your Hunter’s salary was decent enough, but definitely not this decent. Cobblestone that looked suspiciously new made the click of your boot-heels echo loudly off of your surroundings. You scrutinized the buildings before you, searching for somewhere that your presence would not offend, where you could also acquire what you were after. Everything was just a touch too upscale, too unwelcoming. All of the storefronts blurred into one image, one place where you weren’t welcomed. You chased thoughts from that same morning out of your mind that threatened to break through as you were forced into a moment of mental silence, and the still of the air and the lack of bustle kept returning you to reality. The last place you wanted to be. 

After a time of aimless searching, you spied a place that looked acceptable. It was smaller than the other establishments, tucked away conservatively into an alley, lit by warm sconces along either side. Unlike the other buildings, it was painted in a warm, sandy beige. You couldn't tell much else about it from the outside, other than that the interior was dimly lit. The imagery of the cup of coffee on the signage was enough to guide your way. You pulled open the heavy glass door, and half expected it to be partially empty on the inside, but you had no such luck. It was bustling, but warm as a result, and you realized how cold you had been before you had stepped in. The change in temperature almost immediately made you feel too hot in your coat.

The patronage was definitely outside of your tax bracket. The patronage was clad in an array of expensive looking furs and fabrics, all speaking to each other in the lowest of dulcet tones. You felt their eyes on you, but disregarded them. It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to be here, regardless of how out of place you may have looked. Which, you thought, wasn’t that much. You might not have been born into high snob-society, but you took good care of your looks. Your fingers were still moving slowly in protest to the inclement weather as you fished your wallet from your coat pocket, stepping towards the counter with the intention to order. You hardly glanced at the menu. You didn’t even have a drink in mind. Just something as a distraction. Liquid, hot enough to burn your tongue. A sensation to chase the thoughts away.

This course of action was quickly interrupted, however. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of a shock of white hair on someone who seemed to tower over the rest of the people in the room, even while sitting. Clad in blacks and velvet reds, he both fit in perfectly and stood out starkly all at once. He was talking to someone else you couldn't see in a hushed tone.

Sylus?

Surely not. Why would he even be here, of all places? Sure, it was nice, but not places-Sylus-frequented nice. Or at least, the places you imagined he frequented. You still didn’t have a full idea of all of the things Sylus did with his free time. Short of that, what was he doing cavorting about in Linkon in public? Your eyes bored holes into the back of his head, trying to catch wind of what could have possibly brought him to a place like this. You side stepped into a corner table that allowed you to get a better look at who he was speaking with.

A woman?

This clearly wasn’t just any woman, either. A cascade of elaborately curled blonde hair fell down her back in elegant waves, and a deep red dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining her perfectly against Sylus’s dark form. A small nose, and full lips. Long, dark lashes. She was saying something to him, but you couldn’t make out the words in the den of the conversations from the other patrons. He laughed in response to her words, and leaned closer to her. She was smiling at him, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. Her other hand touched his shoulder.

Stones stacked neatly in your stomach as you watched them. You felt like a voyeur. They looked exquisite together – it was undeniable. She was even wearing the perfect color of red. It looked as if she had exsanguinated someone and dyed the dress in their blood – a perfect match for Sylus. Everything else – everyone –  in the room paled in comparison. Sylus was still smiling at her, full of charm. You thought about what Zayne had said to you before forcing you to take time off. 

You look like you’re two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Well, his observation was more astute than he realized, clearly. You certainly felt that way now, in light of the spectacle that was playing out before you. Maybe only one step away. Half a step. You told yourself this was none of your business, that you should just quietly take your leave before he noticed you had ever been here. There was no reason for him to take notice of you while he was attending to his private matters. You were just passing through his life. Brushing through his fingertips. Never actually touching him in any way that mattered. Physically, mentally, spiritually. 

You decided you needed to leave. Urgently. Despite telling yourself staring down the couple wasn’t bothering you because there was nothing between you and Sylus anyway and what the hell was your problem, you had begun to feel nauseated. You clutched your arm about your midsection, and hurriedly peeled yourself out of your seat. Every one of your muscles protested at the movement, reminding you that you should be at home right now. On forced bedrest, probably. 

That just wasn’t in the cards. You weren’t sure you had a hand to play at all. You silently cursed the great dealer in the sky.

You made a beeline for the door, but not before you took one final glance at Sylus and his companion. Even if you were to turn into a pillar of salt for looking back, you just needed one more glimpse. To satiate your curiosity. But luck wasn’t on your side (when was it ever?), because you met Sylus’s eye as you looked, as well as those of the beautiful woman. You saw surprise pass over his features, and thought you saw his lips part as if he were going to say something. The woman peered back at you curiously. You cast your eyes away from the bewitching image before you. 

You could feel all the water being sucked from each of the cells in your body, one by one. You would shrivel up on the spot, and leave behind only the base impression of yourself in the wake of your shame. Hopefully, your rotten yearning soul would be freed to roam elsewhere, far from here, in this place you didn’t belong.

Ah, take me, O salt pillar!

There were no such mercies in this life, of course. You left the cafe as quickly as your feet would allow. The glass door slammed behind you. You were running now, for reasons you couldn’t (didn’t want to) quantify. It wasn’t as if he was chasing after you, coming to explain that no, she’s just a friend, just someone I work with, don't worry.  Faster you went, the need to see the comforting outline of your apartment against the sky becoming more desperate by the moment. Fortunately, the run home was certainly shorter than the walk to the cafe, and the image you so desired to see appeared before you, blessedly. 

Only then did you allow yourself a moment to rest. Your lungs screamed in protest at your outburst, and you sucked in great mouthfuls of air, trying to forcibly still your rapidly beating heart. It was always betraying you in one way or another, even now. You bent over, your hands on your knees, and took a moment to collect yourself. You were grateful no one had been around to see this display, from you leaving your apartment, to running away from a damn coffee shop empty-handed. You curled a fist in your hair, willing it out of your face as you righted yourself. A few stray strands came away in your fingers. That had been happening more and more often, as of late.

The walk up the stairs was nothing else if not excruciating, and you thanked even your unluckiest stars that Xaiver didn’t seem to be home from work yet to see the unfortunate events of your life play out as they were. You stumbled into your apartment – being sure to lock the door behind you, as always. 

The safety of your home did good work to soothe your nerves, a stark contrast to the horrid occurrence in the cafe. You shrugged into something more comfortable: a camisole and a pair of soft, cotton pajama shorts. This set had yet to let you down in the comfort department. Even as you changed, the events played over and over through your mind, and you burned with the embarrassment of it all. Sylus’s smile at that woman, his laughter. The way his gaze had twisted into something else entirely when he saw you. Your nausea refused to calm. Your mouth kept filling with too much saliva, over and over.

Why did you have to run away, of all things? You had left like a petulant child who was unable to cope with the sight before them, instead retreating to your small corner of safety in the world. 

Wry thoughts came to you. This is what I get for taking a day off. You knew you had been wrong to do so. Your prophecy was always fulfilling itself. Take that, Dr. Zayne. 

Still, you were yet unwilling to heed the siren’s call of your bed, despite the increasing intensity of its song. You flopped onto the couch instead with a sigh, the air entering and leaving your lungs easier now. You longed to be rid of the image of Sylus entangled with someone else, and decided you needed to busy your hands with something to scrub the thoughts from your mind. 

As a result of not taking nearly any days off lately, you were definitely behind on the maintenance of your weapons. It technically wasn’t work. It was only related to work. You bent over from your position on the couch, and peered underneath it. Here was where your smallest gun safe lived. Perhaps not the most ideal place for it – but it wasn’t as if you had company over often, anyway. Save for Xavier, your steady and ever-reliable partner. And more recently, Sylus, who you hadn’t yet found an accurate definition for. His presence was usually accentuated by some excuse to intrude on your space.

You unlocked the safe. It was an old-school version, not biometric like the newer models. Pure, vintage analog goodness. A gift from Grandma when you had entered the Hunter’s Association. It came open with a soft, satisfying click. Only two weapons were usually inside – your Hunter’s issue handgun, old faithful. You returned it to its rightful place, now, as it had dutifully attended the cafe fiasco with you. With it was a piece that had forced itself into your possession – or rather, Sylus had forced it into your possession. You eyed the offending object, picking it up gingerly and placing it on the coffee table in front of you. It was considerably heavier than your standard issue. It had thunked onto the glass of the table, as if it were moderately offended to be there. Did even his gifts take on aspects of his personality? His influence seemed to know no bounds, so nothing would surprise you at this point. He certainly had a penchant for creating objects with personalities, if Mephisto was any measure.

This gun wasn’t the only firearm Sylus had thrust upon you. A gift, he had said. You weren’t wholly unconvinced he wasn’t using your house as his millionth-whatever-armory. You had accrued so many weapons that you had to acquire a secondary safe, the hulking mass of which sat in your bedroom forebodingly. It held all of the other “gifts” inside, tucked safely away in the darkness, waiting to be used for their dark purpose. You hid it underneath a spare sheet. The second safe was another gift from Sylus. It reminded you of him, in a way – it imposed its presence in your house: tall, cold, stark, and white. It didn’t fit here at all. And it was full of things meant to rend flesh from flesh, flesh from bone. Life from this plane into the next. You thought about the first time you met Sylus, and how he had obliterated a man from existence before your eyes with his evol. There hadn’t been so much as an ounce of recognition in his eyes for the life he had taken. The memory made your nausea threaten to return to you.

Your eyes came back into focus on the gun in front of you. You liked guns, and as much as you hated to admit it, this one was no exception. It was a beautiful article – a faithful reproduction of a vintage Colt 1911.  A classic, by anyone’s measure. It was a forty-five caliber, with an eight-plus-one round capacity. The recoil of your Hunter’s association issue paled into comparison to this, and it affected your accuracy negatively. You had recently replaced its bullets – standard full metal jackets – with hollow point rounds. Higher accuracy, higher damage. You planned to test this on the next Wanderer who was unlucky enough to be at the other end of your barrel. Or the next man. Those had only recently come into your sights, as a result of your exploits – at the request of Sylus. He had never actually asked you to gun a living person down, though. You weren’t sure you were even capable of doing so. Or if he would ask. 

The wood grip was custom engraved with your name, and encrusted with jewels, courtesy of him. Naturally. The body was scrubbed of any serial number. Naturally.

Ugh. 

You placed it on your knees, with the intention to take it apart to clean and maintain it. You intended to add a suppressor, which you had purchased with your own money. Not a gift from Sylus. Small victories.

Just as you began to take the weapon apart, you caught a sound. There was a sort of shuffling at your door, as if someone were standing behind it. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, prickling. Your intuition told you that whatever was behind it was something to be feared. You loaded the spare magazine of hollow points into the piece with a soft click. You flicked the safety off. Your hands had already begun to sweat.

You pointed the gun at the door. It was too heavy in your hands. 

Whoever was behind the door was making quick work of the lock, despite it necessitating your biometric data to unlatch. 

What if it was the same people who had taken the lives of Caleb and Gran? Had they finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse, and come for you?

You held your breath to steady yourself. The extension of Sylus’s violence wavered back and forth in your grip. The door came open at a painfully slow pace, and a large figure in black slipped through. You cocked back the hammer, which had previously given you difficulty. Now adrenaline bolstered even the strength in your fingertips, any previous weakness forgotten. The figure turned, closing the door behind him. Upon seeing you on your makeshift gunner’s perch on the back of the couch, he raised his hands in surrender, showing you the calloused tan of his palms. One of his hands was nearly the size of your head.

“Sylus?”

His eyebrows had initially shot up in surprise at your current posture, but he quickly relaxed his face into that of his usual mask of easy confidence. You hated that about him, his composure. You adored it, too. He couldn’t even bother to look afraid at the end of a gun. The gun he gave you. You exhaled the breath you had been holding through your nose.

“Expecting someone else?” 

He sounded pleased, of all things. You suddenly felt very exposed, in nothing but your camisole and shorts. Despite the gun in your hands, it was as if you were at the other end of his. Your head felt hot. Your forearms began to protest at the weight of the weapon. You blinked new wetness into dry eyes. 

“Why the fuck are you breaking into my house?” 

You didn’t lower the gun. You didn’t want to.  It wasn’t as if it was the first time you two had ended up like this. You, trying to kill him. Him, accepting your choice. Probably not the last, either. You were angry with him – not for breaking in, no. Not for his casual nonchalance in the face of death (could he even die?), not for his disregard for your poweress as an opponent. But for his date with someone else. Someone who was decidedly not you. The feeling bubbled up, stronger and stronger until it was burning you from the inside out. Shame accompanied it, hand in hand.

Of course, you had no real justification for this feeling. You and Sylus weren’t dating, as you needed to remind yourself more and more frequently. You weren’t even sure you could call your relationship friendly – it was somewhere in the bizarre stage of you wanting him, and him accepting your every move with grace. He took you for all you were in stride, met you for all your whims, and you trailed after his every word. You had something he wanted – what it was, you were never quite sure. It changed with his tides. You couldn’t pry it from him. Questions were only answered with more questions, so you had given up on asking them. Sylus’s response to your question cut through your thoughts. His voice was soft, imporing. 

“You didn’t answer my texts or calls. I was knocking for a while, too, but there was no answer. With the way you left, I came to make sure.” 

Make sure of what?

You hadn’t heard any knocking. You also hadn’t checked your phone.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and they came in a slow, steady stream into your consciousness. You thought about the first time you had shot him. How his blood erupted from his chest in hot streams. It stained your hands as you tried desperately to stop his bleeding, pressing against the pulse of the open wound. When you thought you had taken his life. When he had pressed the trigger for you. When he didn’t die. The heat of him was still there, under your palms. It wouldn’t wash off. He was under your skin.

“I’m glad you like the gift, by the way.”

He took a step towards you as he spoke. You adjusted your grip. He was still in your sights. Your breath came quick, your mouth dry. You licked your lips, cracked from worrying your teeth on them so often lately. You thought about the woman and Sylus. Together. The red dress. Sylus’s blood. His laugh, for someone else. Not you.

“You’re welcome to take my life again,” he murmured soothingly, “But it might disturb the neighbors. Particularly the one downstairs. Of course, I’m willing to help you deal with the aftermath. Either way.” 

He still had his hands raised in submission. The image of it was practically ridiculous. This wasn’t a posture that Sylus took up under any other circumstance. You knew it was all a show for your benefit, and that you were no match for him, despite your own prowess. Something about his unrelenting acceptance of his own death at your hands (again) dragged you out of your stupor by your achilles heel. You lowered the gun. Sylus took the opportunity to stride forward, and quickly slipped it from your hands with his own. You let him. His touch lingered just a moment too long, fingers pressed to yours. He was warm. Too warm for someone who had just been out in the cold. You resisted the urge to take his hand. His evol materialized, and quickly turned the safety on, ejecting the magazine. It returned the gun to the safe, shutting it away as if it had never happened. The red cloud disappeared as quickly as it came, as if it never were at all. The process took no more than a few seconds of silence between the two of you.

“You were going to modify it?” He asked, nonchalant. As if you hadn’t just been almost making an attempt on his life. He glanced at the suppressor, now cold and lonely on the coffee table.

“Yeah. I was going to...add a suppressor.”

You could hear the flat affect in your voice. It reflected how drained you were beginning to feel by all of this, on top of everything else. Your shoulders sagged under the weight of it.

What the fuck was this conversation, actually? 

Sylus nodded, still managing to look pleased with the situation. You felt your life force actively draining from you as the seconds ticked by, as if you were the one who had almost been shot. His gaze shackled you in place, still. The sterling of his hair and the garnet of his eyes were just as enticing as ever. Radically out of place in your modest apartment. 

“Can I help you down?”

His soft inquiry brought to your attention that you were still perched with one foot up on the back of the couch, poised to kill him. Your hands were now very much without the gun. Nothing connected you to the world below you concretely, anymore. Except him. He was standing before you with an offered hand. At some point during your conversation, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing the rippling capability of the muscle of his forearms. It enticed you without voice. You took his outstretched hand, wordlessly. To your surprise, he pulled you over the back of the couch and towards him, catching you like you were nothing, his free hand supporting your waist. You landed softly on your feet in front of him, still in his arms, hand in his own. For a moment, the posture reminded you of how you had danced with him at the auction. You looked up at him, he down at you. His expression was inscrutable, save for a little smile. You were close enough to see the soft sweep of his eyelashes. The circles under his eyes. Proud nose and soft lips. You pulled away, hugging your arms to yourself. It was much colder for his lack of touch. His hands hovered at the place where he had held for a moment, and then fell back to his sides.

“What has you so wound up? I tried to call out to you this morning, but you bolted before I could greet you.” 

Sylus had his head cocked at you now, as if the answer you had for him was something very simple. He adjusted one of his sleeve garters. You averted your gaze, studying a now very interesting speck of dust on your floor. You wanted to put all of this behind you, to forget it had ever happened. You would have never brought it up had he never shown his face. But he had to be here, asking questions. Making you lie to him even more than you already did. You had never been a liar until you spent time with him. You tried to keep your tone level as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your date.” 

Even saying it made your insides crawl. You spat the last word out with more venom that you had intended. Your lower intestine was trying to creep up to your diaphragm, and seemed to be succeeding. Sylus raised an eyebrow in your direction.

“Date?”

 He crossed his arms over his chest. The movement made his biceps all the more prominent. He sounded puzzled, and was scrutinizing you, now. You couldn’t comprehend what was so hard to understand about all of this. You sighed, despite your best attempts to keep your emotions from bleeding through your cracks.

“Yes, date. What would you have me do? Come up and introduce myself while you’re clearly in the middle of something?”

You were aware you were completely out of line here. None of this was any of your concern in the first place. You had stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. Sylus had, quite literally, no obligation to you whatsoever. Certainly not to explain himself, or who he chose to spend his time with. You wanted to shrink and disappear into the floorboards. Perhaps you could seep through the cracks like smoke, and escape this confrontation all together. But you didn’t have that kind of power – unless Sylus was with you, holding you in his arms.

He had been quiet for a time. He started again.

“The woman I was with today is one of my contacts in Linkon. She helps me smuggle things in and out when I can’t attend to them personally. I’ve been working on...procuring something. For you.” He cleared his throat a little, as if he had just told you an embarrassing secret. 

You gawked at him. He was still smiling at you. His eyes met yours. Seeing everything you didn’t want him to see. He didn’t even need to use the protocore in his right eye. It was all bared to him, regardless.

“And yes,” he continued,

“I would have been very pleased to introduce you. You only let me show you off every so often – I wanted to seize the opportunity by the horns.”

There were too many things you didn’t understand. How he could move about Linkon so nonchalantly. How he could be having conversations about smuggling in an upscale Linkon cafe. How the man before you, who gained all of his income from untold numbers of criminal activities, was the same who willingly spent his free time with you playing Kitty Cards and screwing around in the arcade. It was too much. You turned from him, and instead returned to the safety of the couch. You sat on it, grounding yourself with the feeling of your own belongings. You heard him follow after you. His shoes were still on, but you didn’t have the heart to scold him for his disregard for your floor's cleanliness.  He sat next to you. The couch sunk under his greater weight, and caused you to slip a little closer to him on the furniture. 

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sylus.”

It was all you could say. Better to keep the respectable distance between you just as it was. Any further and you wouldn't be able to keep up this facade around him anymore. He kept pulling at your threads, trying to reveal your insides. 

“No one owes anyone anything. But I wanted to tell you. Besides,” you felt his evol touch your hand, ever so gently. It was as if he was holding it without actually holding it. The little red extension of himself curled around your fingers playfully. You remembered how it had choked and shackled you in the past. Now it sat in your lap like a beloved pet, curling about your knees and fingertips. It’s usual crackling intensity was gone, now only a light, pleasant buzz against your skin. You focused on the sensation. It was warm, like him.

"Here I was, excited to think that you were going to shoot me because you thought you saw me out with someone else. I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t the reason.”

He was chuckling, like what just occurred had amused him. Something to spice up the usual banal repetition of his everyday life. You felt yourself deflating. There was no more hot air left inside – just the residual exhaustion, both emotionally and physically. You found yourself wishing, again, that you hadn’t taken a day off. If you hadn’t, Sylus wouldn’t have broken into your apartment to explain he wasn’t out with someone else. To you. The person he was also decidedly Not With. You fiddled with his evol in your lap. You had been around him often enough to know this teasing was his way of trying to cheer you up – to take your mind somewhere else besides exhausted and angry and I want to leave this plane of existence.

“I’ll be sure to follow through with it next time.” 

There was no real bite to your words – to your ears, you only sounded exactly as you felt. Like you were threatening the man you had feelings for who did not return them, yet still refused to leave you alone. A plaything for his own amusements. Sylus merely nodded. His evol had since made its way to the drawstrings of your shorts, and it was tying them in various intricate knots, there. You wondered at it. It seemed to have a mind of its own – but you were certain that this, too, was another idle whim of his.

“I’m looking forward to it, then.” 

His statement was quiet, nearly a sigh of pleasure. The back of your neck and ears burned in tandem. You examined the knots that were now likely forever tied into your poor drawstring. 

What the fuck kind of knots even were these?

You pointedly ignored the minor arousal that threatened to arise at this.

“There’s something wrong with your brain. Seriously.” 

“It takes a thief to catch a thief, my dove.” You could hear the smile in his words as he spoke.

“You have a few days off, right?” He was rolling the previously abandoned suppressor around in his fingers, examining it. You swore he had somehow gotten closer to you on the small couch – with the way his legs were spread, his knee was just barely touching yours. 

“Yeah. Wait, how did you know?”

He ignored your question. As he almost always did, as it suited him. Instead, he responded with another question of his own.

“Why don’t you come back with me to the N109 zone? You can rest there, instead of here. Or, we can go out. Whatever you’d like.”

You were about to deny him, but his voice took on a more serious tone as he continued to speak.

“This place is going to claim your life if you don’t leave it every once in a while.”

You look two steps away from death. Take a few days off.

Why was everyone in your life so thoroughly convinced of your impending collapse? Even your criminal mastermind was in on it. You scrunched Sylus’s evol up in your hands. It wiggled, protesting your treatment in your fingers, but not dissipating. You wondered if he could feel your touch through it. If he could feel it when he killed. Maybe you did need to leave – maybe this place was killing you. If it wasn’t Wanderers, it would be your own disregard for yourself. Maybe the air was forever tainted by the death of your family, and the miasma would never quite leave your lungs. Maybe running away was the best thing to do. Sylus was giving you an out – at least for a little while. Maybe there were strings attached. There had to be, without a shadow of a doubt.  He was silent while you mulled it over. You expected him to comment on your lack of response, but he said nothing.

Irritatingly patient.

You sighed. You turned to Sylus.

“Fine. But I only have a few days. Give me a few minutes to pack my things.”

Sylus had the good grace to look surprised at how easily you had agreed to his suggestion, but it quickly turned into a look of barely concealed smug satisfaction. His evol vanished from your grip, and you found yourself missing its comforting touch.

“You technically don’t need to pack anything. I have everything you could possibly need at the base. Clothes, food, weapons, shampoo, conditioner…the kinds you like.” He trailed off. You couldn’t tell how serious he was being, what with the expression he was serving you. You shot him a look.

He raised his hands, showing you his palms, submitting once again. 

“Like I said. Give me a minute to pack my things.”

Sylus leaned back on the couch, relenting. He dropped his hands.

True to your word, gathering your things for a trip to the N109 zone took little time at all. It wasn’t that you were particularly Spartan with your assets – but rather that Sylus really did keep all of the things you needed around, and much more. Knowing you could trust him on this front made warmth creep to your face, and the cold began to seep from your bones. After changing, you returned to the living room with your bag, where Sylus was patiently awaiting your return. He was peering out your window. The sun hit him just right, and it illuminated his eyes with its beams. The red only intensified in the light, the color of blood only just exposed to air. You could have stared at the image of him forever. He always claimed to be unlucky, but it seemed to you as if every aspect of the world bowed to him. For someone who was so weak to its rays, he was lit brilliantly by the sun. He turned to you, squinting. Your eyes fell to your gun, which was in his hands. You recalled that he had definitely returned it to the safe, previously. He waved it at you, careful not to point the barrel in your direction.

“Don’t forget this.”

He stood as he spoke, and stepped toward you. His form loomed over you, and you felt him slip the gun into your thigh holster (where you had planned to put your standard issue) underneath your coat.

  Bastard. 

His hand lingered on your hip before he put it in his coat pocket. He smelled good. He was wearing something today that you couldn’t quite place. His natural scent was there, too. 

Rosemary? Figs? Cloves?

“Shall we?”

His voice cut through your mental musings on men’s fragrance notes. You nodded, following after him as he led you out of your apartment. You were sure to lock the door behind you. Again. His bike was waiting faithfully for you in the parking lot. Sylus slipped your helmet on for you (why did he even have a second helmet on him today in the first place?), making sure your hair was tucked neatly away behind your neck. After repeating the action on himself, he kicked the stand out from under his bike, and you got on behind him. You always had no choice but to wrap your arms around him when you rode. You wondered how it made him feel – or if he felt anything about the contact at all. His back was broad, solid, and warm underneath your touch. You swore you could feel his muscles ripple underneath you, even with the barrier of his clothing between you. You squeezed him a little tighter as he began to drive. Even through your jacket, the air nipped at you for your speed. As he pressed the bike harder, you felt something tickle around your waist. You peeked down as best you could through the visor of your helmet. Sylus’s evol was keeping you neatly attached to him, as if your arms weren’t enough. The inside of your helmet suddenly felt hotter. You tried not to think about why he did the things he did. Sylus offered no acknowledgement or explanation for any of this. As always.

The bike sped on to the N109 zone, eager to return to where it belonged.

[castillon02]

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched. 

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.” 

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated. 

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.” 

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen. 

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?” 

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them. 

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.” 

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.” 

M glared. “If this is about your leave—” 

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety. 

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment. 

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.” 

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.” 

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.” 

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.” 

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug. 

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency. 

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”  

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”  

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views. 

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch. 

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite. 

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas. 

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in. 

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.” 

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.” 

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.” 

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.  

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head. 

Q stood without answering. 

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt. 

007 on holiday. 

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand. 

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort. 

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.  

[inmyheaddd]

walkin out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part 9

⤷ ''i don't wanna be forward, i don't wanna cut corners // savor this with everything i have inside of me''

a/n: this took the longest ever to write omg!! im so sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy ❥❥ also, hot by cigarettes after sex is literally their song i might sob 😭 summary: someone gives grayson a piece of advice, and grayson spends hours trying to decipher and make sense of it, just to find out the right answer was infront of him. series masterlist — other parts

flashback, 16 years old..

''this is highly dangerous, you know.'' grayson's voice was steady as he called out. he climbed right behind you anyway.

you were climbing up to the rooftop of your house on a very tall ladder. perhaps it wasn't the safest thing, but your parents had blocked all the staircases that led to the rooftop to stop you from going up there. you found ways around it, and they hadn't noticed the ladder yet.

''okay,'' you laughed, seeing your breath in the cold air. you looked back briefly to see his gaze trained on his feet below him as you both continued going up the ladder. ''i don't really care.''

''you should.'' he mumbled back, hint of sass in his voice. you weren't sure if he wanted you to hear that or not.

''please, you care enough for the both of us,'' you replied anyways, because you remembered everything about grayson was intentional. he was capable of being very silent when he wanted to.

two more steps, and you finally reached the top of the ladder and climbing onto the rooftop. you didn't struggle much, you came here every time the sky looked pretty, and in winter, that was pretty much every night. you exhaled as you sat, ''it evens things out.''

graysons eyebrows flashed up in agreement for a moment, not arguing on that.

he reached the top and climbed over with no struggle. he sat a few inches away from you, your gaze still trained on the sky ahead. you looked behind you, taking in the the whole sunset with its shades of bruised purple and little streaks of orange.

you pulled out a small thermos from your hoodies pocket.

well, it wasnt really a small thermos, it was... more of a larger flask that you had stole from your parents room because you needed something to keep your drink warm.

but what could you say? desperate times called for desperate measures.

grayson glanced at you, then away, then immediately did a double take again and eyed the object in your hand.

his expression reminded you of a teacher: a stern, disappointed, and confused expression all together. his nose crinkled slightly, and you almost laughed out loud.

''grayson,'' you laughed, ''it's hot chocolate... i couldn't find my thermos, relax.'' you understood where he was coming from, i mean, it was a flask, but you weren't a drinker.

he didn’t say anything, but his expression said it all. he stayed looking at you conspicuously and furrowed his brows slightly.

you laughed in disbelief, ''what? you want it?" you teased. when he simply looked at you with a disapproving brow raise, you gasped.

''grayson!" you brought a hand to your chest, ''you seriously think that low of me?" you laughed and leaned closer, waving the thermos dramatically in his face. “look! see? it’s hot chocolate!”

he leaned back, avoiding the container, his lips twitching like he was fighting off a smile.

“no, no,” you teased, moving the thermos side to side in his face as he tilted his head away. “you’re going to see for yourself.”

“stop,” he muttered, his voice still calm but laced with humor.

“look!” you insisted, waving it closer.

finally, he reached out, his hand carefully covering yours to still your movements. “alright,” he said, twinges of laughter in his voice. “i understand. it’s hot chocolate.”

his hand lingered for a second longer, and your eyecontact remained, before graysons eyes flickers across your face and his hand went back to its side.

''its a tuesday evening. and i'm on a rooftop.'' you sighed as you took a sip of your hot chocolate just to prove it even further, ''i'm not that reckless.''

you screwed the lid back on and put it back in your pocket, then you covered your hands with your sleeves in an attempt to fight off the cold.

''you think you're reckless? you should see my brother.'' grayson muttered, half to himself and half to you, but there was a softness in his voice.

you set your hand back down, and only then realised just how close it was to graysons. your fingertips were a hairbreadth away.

you felt like you physically couldn't pull your hand away, and even if you did could move, it would just make things awkward.

you remembered you had to respond to grayson's statement somehow. ''jameson practically invented dangerousness and recklessness and bad decisions. he doesn't count.'' you shot back jokingly as you looked at grayson.

he huffed a chuckle, looking at his lap and shaking his head slightly. surely he must've felt your hand right next to his.

your fingers twitched slightly. you could feel the tiny movements coming from his own hand- whatever you were thinking right now, he was clearly thinking the same thing.

you were acutely aware of the closeness of his hand to yours. your gaze stayed straight ahead. you didn't dare look at your hands.

your fingers inched a little closer to his. you heard your heartbeat in your chest.

the cold didn't seem like a problem any more, and you felt his callused fingertips run over the back of your hand. then your pinky interlocked with his.

it was a simple action, but it was near impossible to ignore the way it fuelled the part of your brain that screamed 'you like grayson!'

you stared down at your intertwined hands, you knew grayson did too, but neither of you said anything. he swallowed thickly and simply brought up a story of his brothers being 'truly reckless,' and how you seem like the furthest thing from it.

soon enough, the minutes turned to hours, and you discussed everything with grayson.

from the way school had been, plans you had for the winter, if you wanted to come to true north with him and his brothers for a few days (you said yes), stories he had from true north, and sharing horror stories of ski trips.

the conversation naturally began to lull. not in a bad way, but in a comforting way. you scooted a little closer to grayson with your hands still intertwined.

you looked up at the glittering sky, ''you know, i feel really bad for you right know.

''why?'' grayson looked at you,

''because you're not wearing your glasses, and you can't see the moon tonight.'' you responded simply, glancing at him for a second before looking back at the sky. ''it's really pretty.''

grayson took his gaze to the sky, and you were right, he couldn't really see it. he could just about see the shape of it, but that was it.

he took his gaze back to you, watching you admire the moon. ''i'm sure it is.''

you hummed a little in agreement, dangling your feet back and forth over the edge. a gush of freezing cold wind suddenly rushed past the two of you, and the way you physically shuddered made you both laugh.

''god,'' you chuckled, ''i should've worn a coat or something. i didn't know it would be so cold.''

grayson nodded, '''we are quite high up, naturally, its going to be colder up here,'' he gestured to the ground below. everything looked so small from all the way up here. that was partly why you loved it.

you had a hoodie on, but grayson held his arm open anyway and invited you in. you felt 10x warmer when he enveloped you into a side hug, but surely that was because of the cashmere sweater he wore, and not him.

''grayson?'' you hummed, your head on his shoulder.

''yes?''

''you know, um thanks for always being here,'' you muttered, feeling his fingers trace patterns on your arm , ''even when i'm irrational and i'm messy and I annoy you.''

he was silent for a moment, and you were tempted to look up so you could get a read on his face. ''you could never annoy me.''

you could practically feel his voices' vibrations, and his tone was soft. different from the way he usually talks with others- stern, assertive. but he wasn't that way with you.

''but i'm irrational and messy.'' you insisted.

his hand began to slowly run up and down your arm, soothing your nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. ''those aren't bad things.'' he told you. ''not when its you, at least.''

you stared at his hand interlinked with yours. not when its me? what does that mean? you thought.

you opened your mouth, just about to respond when— slam.

you and grayson jolted out of each others touch. your heart was beating crazily fast.

''holy shit,'' you put a hand on your chest, catching your breath as you and grayson caught eachothers gaze and laughed out of relief.

you quickly realised you had missed being in his arms, but you just couldn't return to a moment like that. a part of you wonders if it even happened, it felt so fleeting.

you nervously laughed, tucking your hair behind your ears before you carefully peered down over the edge to where you heard the noise.

you didn't feel any better or less frightened, though. the scene below you was your mom storming out the car, dressed like she had just gotten back from an event. you quite couldn't make out her words, and her pace was as fast as ever. even from afar, her posture looked rigid and her neck looked strained, like she was holding back tears or screams.

your dad got out of the car right after, slamming his side of the door too and shaking his head to himself as he tried to catch up to your mom. his hands were out like he was pleading or reasoning, and his expression was something dark that you didn't like.

grayson followed your gaze, seeing the scene you were looking at. he hadn't realised he was smiling a little until he felt his face drop.

grayson looked back at you, but it was hard to tear your gaze away from the scene, even when this scene was something you saw quite frequently. you tried to hone into your eavesdropping skills to hear what they were arguing about this time, but you were simply too far.

you name fell from his lips, and he repeated it twice when you didn’t answer. then finally asked, “are you alright?”

you didn't look straight at him, but he saw your expression. and he saw the way your fingers curled into a fist. you chewed on your bottom lip and blinked rapidly, then untucked your hair from behind your ears so it shielded your face.

he felt his heart drop. he had never seen you cry before.

you always acted as if nothing bothered you, and when it was obvious that something did, you hid it.

for a terrible moment, he worried that he wouldn't know what to do, that he'd somehow make things worse, but he simply let his actions come naturally.

he silently wished that this would be the last time he’d see you cry, he wished he could keep you happy forever.  

you seemed to finally realise he was still looking at you, and you sat up straight.

''sorry— i’m sorry.'' you mumbled as you quickly wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands. ''oh my god,'' you let out a chuckle, like it would make him forget the tears. ''that was so embarrassing, i'm literally fine. i don't know what that was.''

grayson watched you try and regain a sense of normalcy, ''its not embarrassing to feel,'' he told you.

he knew that was highly hypocritical of him to say that, considering the way he acted, but he would truly sit with you for hours listening to you talk about your feelings. for days, until the end of time, even.

he'd always be there for you, and he wished you would believe him when he said it. ''would you,” he trailed off, gaze flickering between your features, “would you like to talk about it?”

he knew the answer was likely going to be no, because he knew you, but he wanted to let you know that he’d be there for you always, if you suddenly decided you did want to talk.

you were silent for a moment, and every second of it, with every shuddering breath you took, he felt a stronger urge to be the one who wiped your tears, the one who held you. he watched you tentatively, concern written all over his face.

he recently felt like his feelings were blurring over the lines of them being simply friendly.

“actually,'' you sniffled a little, ''can we not talk about it?” you said, just like he had suspected.

you felt him nod, and said no more after that. he wouldn't push you. he knew when it was right to be persistent, and when to simply stay silent.

you took a deep breath. ''i'm feeling even more messy and irrational right now,'' you tried to lighten the mood with another laugh, but it just sounded sad. ''i don't know why i got like that, i mean, its not even that bad, compared to others.''

graysons brows knitted together. ''it doesn't matter what its like compared to others.'' he told you, his voice steady while yours wavered.

you finally raised your head from his shoulder ever so slowly and looked at him. your expression was unfamiliar. it was pained.

his gaze flickered between your eyes. he found himself speaking once again.

''i don't care about the others, i care about you.'' he squeezed your hand slightly, ''you should care about you, too.''

present...

grayson was oddly exhausted. he doubted that has anything to do with the fact that he had slept at 2 in the morning, though. the first thing he did was take a cold shower, but even that didn't help.

he didn't like to have caffeine so early on an empty stomach, but it seemed like he had no choice.

''good morning.'' he nodded curtly at gigi who was leaning on the counter, making his way to the coffee machine.

she was looking at him strangely, but that wasn't a rare occurrence, so he paid it no mind. grayson took a mug out of the cabinet, then he heard gigi clear her throat from behind him. he raised a brow to himself, still looking down at his cup.

then he finally realised- gigi was in his house.

he turned around swiftly, cup still in his hand as his eyes glazed over gigi suspiciously.

''you're in my house.'' he pointed out blankly, and gigi rolled her eyes.

''why are you in my house?'' grayson ordered. now, he was definitely shaken out of his previous stupor.

''you know, you're a real idiot, grayson.'' that was not a good morning, or an answer to his question.

''excuse me?'' he put his cup down on the counter he was standing behind. he was confused why gigi was in his kitchen to begin with, much less calling him an idiot at the ripe hour of 6 in the morning as he tried to make his black coffee.

''listen,'' gigi put on a stern face and hopped on the counter, but it was difficult to take her seriously with her bed head and ever so slightly puffy face, clearly having just woken up. how could grayson possibly not hear her come in?

''im gonna cut straight to the point.'' she started, and Grayson was glad she said that, because he was not in the mood for anything else but an explanation. ''I'm here because you did something. ever since about 3 days ago when you visited she’s been acting all weird. she won’t tell me what’s wrong, but i know something’s up with her. and i know it has something to do with you.'

she didn’t even have to say your name, there was only one her when it came to grayson. ever since that day where you came up to him so many years ago, asking him why he sat alone. there was always one her. you.

a heavy weight settled over his chest. “what makes you think i visited?” he forced himself out of his thoughts and asked, not confirming he did visit you, but not fully denying it either.

gigi rolled her eyes like it was obvious before she stole a grape from the fruit basket on the counter she sat on top of. “she won't tell me anything, did her whole control freak routine. i woke up the next morning with the whole living room redone, her room layout completely changed, and every surface literally polished and sparkling. she doesn’t just do that for no reason. for anyone.”

gigi tried to sound unbothered about the topic when she spoke, but the way she fiddled with her hands gave it away to grayson. it was obvious though, no one would like to talk about how their best friend was hurting. just as much as no one would like to hear about it, and know they caused it.

could he even call you his best friend anymore? he had never said it outright to you, but he suddenly wished he had told you how much he appreciated you every second he had the chance.

“you must've messed up bad, gray.” 

grayson averted his gaze. suddenly the fruits looked extremely interesting.

he couldn’t take back the horrible actions he made, the ways he tried to cope, the way he tried to silence his fears. they were done, they were his fault. that didn’t stop him from regretting them every single moment of his days. but even then, he still somehow seemed to be making the wrong choices. 

“I suppose you wouldn't be able to give me any advice on what to do?'' he asked rhetorically, his voice carrying too much emotion than he would like. he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat. 

grayson never asked for advice. he never asked for help. he did everything alone.

and look where that got him.

“hey, i'd give advice to you any time you need it!,'' gigi said half jokingly, tucked her hair behind both of her ears, her voice carried a weight that revealed that she could tell just how grayson was feeling.

''listen, i’d like to be super cool and mysterious, and give you some vague advice like ‘do whatever your heart tells you,’ or, ‘the right choices will find you,’'' gigi said, putting on a deep voice and making quotation marks with her fingers. ''but you somehow manage to always make the worst decisions ever. without fail.” her voice was back to normal, raising her eyebrows and pointing at him.

even he knew she was right. 

“you’ve messed up way too much, and i don’t want you hurting my best friend any further, so i’ll give you this:” gigi continued, and grayson realized she wasn’t doing this for him, she was doing it for you. then, another thought that he been trying to avoid came up again: he hurt you much more than he had realised. 

“talk to her. and stay. you know her better than anyone, why on gods green earth would you believe that when she said she’s ‘fine’ or that ‘she doesn’t care’ that she was seriously saying the truth?” gigis expression turned sour as she furrowed her brows, like the topic annoyed her to even speak about. 

believe me, grayson thought, however aggravated you are about this, i’m infinitely more aggravated with myself. 

“you’re annoyingly persistent sometimes, so make some good use out of it.” gigi said, “i’m not going to tell you the things she’s told me exactly, but, you must’ve been a real idiot to just stand there and nod when she tells you that a kiss you shared was a mistake.”

grayson wasn’t surprised gigi knew all of that. grayson figured that was all he would get from gigi, but he selfishly found himself wanting to know more about how you were feeling. he was grasping for anything. you had both seemingly cleared up the air, decided you were 'friends' again and nothing more, but you hadn't even talked since.

usually, in a time back when things were as perfect as they could’ve been, you would’ve been telling him first hand. now, he had to find out about how you felt because of him by his half sister. 

it would never go back to the way it was. grayson could only hope to make it better than before.

he was no stranger to saying something, and meaning, truly longing for something completely different, so he didn't blame you for not

he wonders what he did wrong this time.

the girl, ella.

he was told it would be a good pr move on his end. he hadn’t been seen in the media for a while— which was how he liked it— but his team argued it would be good for him to resurface before the additions to the charities, to get more press. 

he would’ve simply said no. it would've been final, and his team wouldve never brought tbut the girl, ella, was what ended up convincing him. she was trying to hide her relationship with a co star of hers, another girl grayson couldn’t quite remember the name of.

all he remembered was being told ella was being bombarded with rumors, and she needed to out a stop to them before the second season of her show premiered. she was severely distressed—it was her first show, and she herself hadn't even come out to the public yet.

so he agreed. it went on for 2 weeks until there was enough social media posts and tabloids posted of them two.

he thought about the way your voice wavered when he went over to talk, the way you eyed him silently, the way your body language contradicted your words. you were silently angry at him, but you stayed friendly. he didn't have to solve anything to figure that one out.

he could always understand you even when you didn't have the right words to say it yourself, or when you simply didn't want to. a picture played in his mind— one of him nodding his head with an arm around your shoulders, offering comfort silently when you mumbled ''actually, can we not talk about it?" into his chest quietly. he remembered how his heart ached.

you had both mastered the language that had been created and growing between you since the day you met. now, he still knew it, but he had nowhere to even put it to use. he doubts he could ever truly forget it, though.

grayson realised too late how horrible of an image the ella debacle must've painted in your eyes. it was possibly the worst choice he had ever made. right after the days he went not speaking to you, and the times he didn't stay. 

he hated himself for the decisions he made, and gigi should've hated him too.

''why are you here, telling me this?'' grayson finally said. he was aware that his eyes were instinctively narrowed suspiciously, but he couldn't help it. gigi looked at him sympathetically.

''because, unfortunately, you guys are too stubborn and stupid to see what's clearly right infront of you.'' she said simply with a dramatic sigh. ''and you need me— the super-smart-all-seeing-gigi, to help the process along a little. and, despite the way you've been acting, you're my brother,'' her voice softened, ''and i don't like seeing you sad.''

he didn't even deny he was sad. there was no point. he contemplated asking more, brows furrowed as he looked at the counter infront of him, hands gripping the edges tightly. but he stayed silent instead, replaying gigi's words and trying to make more sense of them.

''...well, if that's all,'' she said, breaking the silence. ''i've got to go, i have a flight to catch.'' that explained why she was awake at 6 in the morning.

''where are you going?'' his grey eyes narrowed once again, this time, he was acutely aware of it.

''none of your business.'' she taunted, slipping right back into their sibling banter. ''well, actually—'' a smile stretched across her face despite her efforts, ''its noah, i don't know if you even remember him, but, he's taking me on a trip.'' she blurted, clearly too happy about that fact to remember that she was supposed to be holding a grudge against grayson. ''but— not that its any of your business, of course.''

grayson nodded. a part of him was hurt that gigi doubted he'd remember someone significant to her, but his mind went to a different place before he could dwell on that fact any longer.

he remembered one of the conversations he had with you, on the night you kissed.

''we know eachother. i trust you more than most.'' he once told you, remembering the way your eyes looked into his and the way they glinted when he finished his sentence. he remembered wanting to smile at that.

''yeah, and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.''

“is she truly happy?”

“yeah, gray, she really is happy.”

he cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present moment. he wouldn't focus on the past right infront of someone, he couldn't, it simply hurt too much. ''right.'' he said coldly, ''of course. have a safe flight, gigi.''

she smiled awkwardly and got up from the counter. she took an apple with her, and gave him one last look, one that made graysons heart twist.

''why did you have to ruin this?'' her eyes seemed to say. ''you're my brother. she's my best friend. why are you making me choose?"

grayson wished he had a response. instead, he just watched her walk off with his brows knitted slightly.

he exhaled a long breath once gigi left, his elbows on the counter as his head fell into his hands. he raked both hands through his hair, roughly, not like the way you would. he shook before he abruptly stood up.

so many feelings, yet he couldn't articulate a single one properly.

there was one that seemed clearer than the rest. he hated himself--for ruining things for and hurting you when all he wanted was to protect you.

he let out a low, bitter laugh to himself.

some protector he was.

he did the one thing he always did when he needed to think clearer, to have control over something when all else seemed to be wrong and disorderly.

he made his way outside, grabbed a towel, and went for the pool.

the water was icy against his skin, but he welcomed it. he pushed off the edge and began swimming laps, each stroke more forceful than the last.

the tension in his chest didn’t lessen—it grew, tightening with every thought of you.

he swam faster, rougher, but not deviating on his strict rigid form. he couldn't. 'you need to talk to her. and stay,' gigis words played out in his head.

should he reach out again? what if you get annoyed? what if you're sick of him?

he knew you must've been somewhat sad, judging by the fact that gigi came to him, but what if you were more angry? what if gigi read it wrong, and you really wanted nothing to do with him?

the only reason he doubted the last one was because gigi knew you better than anyone. she couldn't have read whatever you were feeling wrong. whatever she saw, she felt the resolution was for you two to fully see it out to the end. to 'talk and stay' with each other.

'you're grayson davenport hawthorne, you don't worry about what ifs.' he reminded himself. what would his grandfather say? much worse, he had no doubt.

besides, you were his best friend. doing something would be better than doing nothing and let the friendship and possibility of more slowly fade, then disappear.

he swam and swam, and ran through all the possible outcomes in his mind. he did this until his arms burned and his lungs begged for air. it still wasn’t enough, though.

grayson pushed through the pain, through the ache in his muscles, until he couldn’t anymore. gasping for breath, he finally stopped and hung onto the edge of the pool, his head tilted forward as water dripped down his face.

his chest was heaving, and the pain he had felt was finally all crashing down. it was easier to ignore when he was moving. he clenched his jaw with his grip on the pool’s edge tightening. he didn't feel any better. he didn't feel like he had any more control over his life.

he was an idiot. an idiot who was still drowning, even now, on dry land.

he pushed himself up and out of the pool, his brows furrowed frustradely and muscles taught as he dried off.

he wouldn't let himself mope around any longer.

his hair was still slightly wet as he sat at his office desk. he had taken another shower, this time, it was steaming hot.

his eyes kept flickering to his phone as he worked on his laptop. he found himself wanting to reach out and call you.

no, he needed to plan it better. he couldn't just expect you to answer and for you to listen to him.

but- wasn't how the problems arose in the first place? waiting for the perfect moment that never came?

it was that way years ago, it was that way a few weeks ago, and it seemed like it was about to be that way again.

he closed his eyes for a brief moment. focus. then he got back to work.

still, despite his efforts, he couldn't focus. his mind was in an entirely different place. he read over an email before he pressed send.

how did he manage to mistype no as know?

he stared at the powered off phone laying on his desk once again.

the last time he had texted you, every single one of his brothers had pushed him to.

now, he was utterly alone in his office. his brothers were all out of the house, and his black out curtains kept his room dark, except for the low orange lamps you had forced him to put in there 'to make it look less robotic'.

his eyes flickered to his phone one more time, and he finally retracted his hand from his laptops keyboard.

he turned on his phone, and from then on it was muscle memory, the one thing he would do whenever he was feeling lost. whenever he needed clarity in his peculiar life of his.

he called you.

the phone rang, his thumb hesitated over the red cancel button, but he couldn't. he'd look like even more of a coward.

he was still unblocked, and despite not speaking to each other for so long, you picked up.

''hello?''

his heart beat faster than it did when he swam. ''hey, its grayson.''

you were silent for a second, ''I know.''

you phrased it like a question, almost.

''i apologise for the abrupt call, but, there seems to be a gap in my life where our daily phone calls once were, and to be frank, i missed them.'' he said it straight forward. he prayed that gigi's advice was right. he started the talk part, now he needed to stay. ''how have you been?''

“uh,” you laughed slightly on the other line, and grayson found himself missing the jokes you’d make that he’d call terrible, the nonsensical rants, or the way you’d beg to pick the movie to watch every single without fail on those movie nights you’d hold every friday. the one time he picked, it was the night you kissed. the night where everything changed, and grayson couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse. 

''well, I just broke my glasses, for one.'' you replied, ''like, literally two seconds ago.'' he heard the laugh in your voice, like the reasoning behind it was funny. but you didn't tell him the the story behind it.

you stayed silent, and that was one of the major tells things weren't how they used to be. stay, he reminded himself.

you were the type of person that when he'd ask about your day, you'd talk about every single detail, down to the tiniest things like your losing your favourite pen or tripping over a rock on your morning walk.

he didn't realise he could miss something so much.

''so uh,'' you cut into his thoughts with a small laugh that he could tell was out of nervousness. ''i need to go fix that. but other than that, i'm pretty good.'' grayson nodded, even though you couldn't see him.

''shame about your glasses, those frames did really suit you.'' he let the words escape his lips before he could think twice.

''thanks, but, they are long gone, for now, at least.'' you said. ''besides, them breaking now gives me an excuse to wear contacts. looking on the bright side.. but uh, enough of me, how are you?

grayson leaned back in his chair, ''ive been alright. however, i've been thinking,'' he began, ''i know we've sorted things out since i last saw you, but we haven't talked much, and i think it would be quite nice for us to see each other some time.''

''oh,'' your voice was quiet on the other end, and grayson sat back up straight again. ''yeah- yeah, sure. i was actually thinking about that earlier today. but i didn't really know how to talk to you, so, I'm glad you said something.''

gigi's advice was right.

'didn't really know how to talk to you.' that part made graysons chest hurt strangely, like he was back in the pool.

''what an odd coincidence,'' he responded simply.

you hummed before you spoke, your voice was quiet on the other line. ''I thought you didn't believe in coincidences.''

he was silent

''sorry,'' you chuckled, ''I don't know why I said that, it just popped up in my mind- you used to say it all the time, and... yeah.''

don't apologise, you haven't done anything wrong. youre right, I usually don't.

what changed?

the response in his mind was instant: he met you.

''strangely enough, i'm not too sure.''

he heard you snort from the line, ''well, isn't that a first?'' you muttered, not giving him a chance to respond before you started again. ''um, gigi actually left for the airport this morning, so i'm incredibly bored right now.''

''would you like to organise something for today, then?''

you laughed again, ''is that your weird way of asking me if i want to hang out today?"

''you know i've never been particularly skilled in these areas.''

''oh boy, i know.'' you exhaled, ''well, i'll be heading to the park at like, 12, so...'' you trailed off, and he heard a slight smile in your voice. he wished he was seeing it, instead. ''if someone happened to, you know, coincidentally be there, i wouldn't necessarily turn and run away.''

he couldn't stop his own grin, though he knew he shouldn't feel too happy just yet. ''is that your strange way of telling me to meet you at the park at noon?''

''yes,'' you didn't miss a beat, ''it is.''

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @cant-see-sam

[melanielocke]

Tbh whatever Viktor is talking about doesn't even have anything to do with evolution. It's not even that he misunderstands evolution, he made up his own thing which is more related to transhumanism and calls that evolution.

Not only does evolution not have a destination, evolution also does not change living organisms, it's much slower than that. So when Viktor is healing people or changing into robots, that has literally nothing to do with evolution. Evolution would be if humans over a long time and many generations turned into his weird robot things because that's the best suited life form for the circumstances (nature's greatest force, forever in flux as Singed says, though I also find his statement a bit weird). Instead, Viktor decided that for humans not to suffer, they must be changed, and calls that glorious evolution, I think largely because that's his game catchphrase. Perhaps because it sounds cooler than glorious transhumanism? Glorious body modifications? Idk.

Perhaps he just calls it glorious evolution because he thought it sounded cool. It might also even be that he wasn't familiar with evolution theory at all (idk about the religious background but he is also making some more religious statements on how he believes in fate, and later he believes the glorious evolution is destined), and only singed knows about normal evolution since it's closer to his field. And then Viktor would use evolution as a much looser term for change, since linguistically evolution can be used in different contexts?

I'm not sure if he truly doesn't understand how evolution theory works (and considering Singed brings it up first, I do presume evolution theory exists in this world), or if he thinks, well, my way is better, but he really needs someone to talk sense into him because his ideas get progressively weirder over the season and letting him have such insane power with only people who worship him and a hexcore to talk to who validates all his weirdest ideas was a bad idea. Some humanities classes would also have helped, because while he understands what human suffering is like largely because of his own experiences, he doesn't understand people at all, and probably assumes what he wanted is what everyone else wants and also what they (and he) need (wrong on both counts).

Interestingly, when Viktor first brings up glorious evolution, he is still unwilling to go through with it (assuming it refers to using Vander to evolve himself, though I do think he also considered the healing he did for his followers glorious evolution), so I think he already had some of these ideas before he even died. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with evolution, but more with his own internalized ableism and believing he needed to fix himself to end his suffering/be worthy of love. He did want it at that point, he just wasn't willing to sacrifice someone else for it. He also only gave up on his hexcore research because it killed Sky. He cared it killed someone. He didn't care it turned his leg weird and purple and was willing to turn his entire body into that if it meant he was cured. (and I believe when he did sacrifice Vander, there was also no possibility of saving him anymore)

Anyway this got long but the conclusion is Viktor has no clue what he's talking about, I don't think he even knows what evolution is, and his entire ideology is shaped from his own internalized ableism and lack of understanding of humanity, and he slapped a cool catchphrase on top without knowing it actually means something else.

nothing viktor did was more peak engineer behavior than when he so confidently explained evolution wrong except for him confidently explaining evolution wrong while disagreeing with the guy who explained it correctly

[i9messi]

can you do an ollie bearman comfort fic?? Maybe reader is stressed and overwhelmed by uni or smth else you do whatever you want with that

Peace — Ollie Bearman

Focusing too much on your finals had made you feel anxious, so your boyfriend Ollie comes to your bedroom to help.

Word count — 1,3k

note: ollie calling baby to reader makes me feel things. feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

MASTERLIST

The smell of candles made the room smell incredibly good, but nothing was useful to calm your own destructive thoughts. You were very close to a final exam and the anxiety made you feel like the worst. You could hardly sleep well and rest as you deserved.

You had cancelled your dates with your boyfriend and your meetings with your friends. Your final was important and you were too focused on it. Who cared if you were nice, if you failed your finals?

You didn’t totally believe in fate or good vibes. Yes, you could trust that fate would be on your side and manifesting a passing grade might be important, but it was also important to study until your eyes were tired and you fell asleep with pure tiredness. As extreme as it sounds.

Your phone started ringing and that made you lose focus from the screen. You read the name on your cell phone, it was your boyfriend, Ollie. Knowing it was perhaps important, you answered the call before it rang a second time.

“Ollie? Something happened?”

“Hi, baby. I just missed hearing your voice.”

You smiled. Lately you were being a little mean with him, canceling your plans and dates with him. His voice brought a moment of peace when you needed it most. Ollie gave you peace.

“I also missed hearing your voice but I’m studying, I have a final.”

“Stress about Uni won’t do you any good, baby.”

You knew it, you also knew your boyfriend wanted the best for you.

“Ollie, I have to keep studying. Can we talk later?”

“When will I see you again? I miss you badly.”

“I don’t know. I miss you too."

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

When the call ended, you continued studying. Time passed, that same night you fell asleep on your desk and woke up with an incredible neck pain. Sometimes it was most useful for you to study at night, so it was barely seven pm when you locked yourself back in your room to study. Your roomie was in her room getting ready to party.

You heard the bell ring. You assumed it was a visit for your roommate. A couple of seconds later, you heard footsteps and a noise in the door. You got up and came to see who it was.

Right there was Ollie, with a teddy bear in his arms.

“Ollie, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Ollie, I'm so happy to see you.” He joked, a little sarcastically.

“I love seeing you, really. I just didn’t know you were coming. Come on in.”

He came into your room and you realized it was a mess. The only thing that was tidy was your bed, since you had not spent the night sleeping peacefully on the mattress. Your desk was a combination of Red Bulls, empty coffee cups and snacks that was useful to you to keep you awake. The rest were books, notes and sheets of paper with the content you had to study for the exam.

“You need to take this easy.”

“I know, but you know me and you know I become a little too obsessive when I'm studying.”

He grabbed your hand and led you to bed, where he sat you on his lap.

“Listen to me, baby.”

“I listen, Ollie.”

“I know you’re a good student and you will get a good grade, but you have to remember that it’s just an exam. You are much more than a number on a piece of paper, you are more than what your professor thinks you are worth. I know how hard you work for your goals and how brave you are. So, please, at least for a few hours forget about your final and stay with me.”

“Ollie…”

“I brought you a bear.”

He offered the teddy bear to you. You grabbed it, it was brown and adorable. It wasn't the first bear your boyfriend gave you, nor would it be the last. Ollie loved to give you bears of all colors available and types, in your room you had a lot of them.

“Thank you, it's so cute. Cute like you.”

Ollie smiled and you grabbed the bear, it smelled like your boyfriend.

“Can we just lie down in your bed and cuddle?”

His brown eyes looked at you. You couldn’t say no, not when your body was so tired and you had missed him so much during those days when you barely talked.

“You don't need to ask, yes.”

And you did, you laid on bed and he hugged you from behind. You also hugged the teddy bear.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” He muttered in your ear.

“I guess I’m just scared to forget some important information and go blank.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“What if it happens?”

“I don’t think your professor is a ruthless being who feeds on the blood of the innocent.”

You laughed.

“You should see how he gets when someone says a wrong answer, sometimes he scares me. I swear he gets more and more bold every class, all because of his poor nerves.”

“You will pass your final, silly.”

You turned, getting face to face with your boyfriend. You saw him so close and you came closer up to his mouth and left a sweet kiss on his lips. Ollie smiled in the middle of the kiss.

“We could watch an episode of Glee. I know you're watching it.”

“Uhmm, interesting proposal. I accept.”

With a smile on your face, you took your laptop and searched until you chose the episode you wanted. You put the computer in a comfortable place, where you and Ollie could see it quietly.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I love you and I don’t want you to think for a second that you’re alone in this. I’ll be here whenever you need me. If you need someone to talk with, someone to watch tv shows or even someone to cuddle after studying. I'm here, always.”

You couldn’t stop yourself and kissed his lips. Ollie put a hand on your cheek.

“I love you so much.”

The episode of the show continued, you were so excited to be with your boyfriend that you forgot for a second the pressure of the exam. With Ollie by your side, caressing your hair and leaving kisses on your forehead was enough to be at peace.

“Go bathe and I’ll bring you food.” he suggested, once the episode was over.

“Are you saying I smell?”

Ollie just laughed.

“I’m not implying anything.”

“Fine, I’m gonna go take a bath.”

You went to your bathroom, while your boyfriend left the bedroom to cook something fast. The shower served to relax you, the pressure that you had on your shoulders felt much lighter. You put on your favorite pajamas and left the bathroom, where you found Ollie in the kitchen finishing up his food.

“Your roomie has already left, she said please don’t forget to water the plants.”

“Okay, alright.”

He brought the food onto the table, “I made pasta.”

“Smells incredible.”

Both ate in silence, something you liked about your boyfriend was that he respected the moments when you didn’t want to talk too much. Now that you were in a period full of exams, your mind was too busy to want to talk a lot. With the right words, you and Ollie dined in peace.

When you finished eating, Ollie stood up and put everything in place. Your eyes suddenly closed with exhaustion.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

You walked to your bedroom and you went to bed, repeating the same sequence of before. Ollie hugged you from behind and you hugged the teddy bear he gave you.

“Get some rest, you deserve it.”

“I feel like my mind is going to keep solving exercises while sleeping.”

“We can study tomorrow morning, I’ll help you.”

Knowing him, you knew he would keep his promise.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ollie. I was so stressed— I love you.”

“And I love you, baby. You're not alone in anything.”

[brodorokihousuke]

On a scale from "felt really bad about drugging Solomon Starbuck that time" to "would’ve beat Kristoph Gavin to death if he ever physically hurt Apollo", what are your opinions / speculations on the morality of canon Clay Terran?

Bringing up the drugging deal is important because people forget about that a lot (I do admittedly... not ignore it, but don't focus on it very hard). However, it makes sense that he was convinced to do so, despite having a (presumably) generally "lawful" morality.

Lets put this into context: You have finally achieved your dream job. This is a very specific job, that requires years and years of training, as well as luck. However, you find out from your boss(?) that there is a threat against your workplace. A repeated threat, that had been made once before, and resulted in a major cover-up as well as the death of one person, and near-death of at least one other. Reporting this threat could have dire consequences, he says. The government could see this as a weak point, perhaps. Was it worth funding something if every attempt at it would get sabotaged? Especially if it was just for science data. Who cares about that. So, for the good of your job, for the good of them all, he asks one thing of you.

Drug your coworker. Drug him, and then carry him out. You'll be safe, he'll be safe. Your job will be safe too, along with those of everyone else working there. You'll be a hero to everyone.

Why wouldn't you want that?

-

To more specifically answer, I think he has a perhaps more malleable morality than Apollo, but not by much. I can see him getting really fucking mad at Kristoph (and anyone who's wronged Apollo), but not to the point of physical violence- I see him having more restraint than Apollo in that regard.

[nothorses]

i'm about 6 months on T and i really like the things that are happening to me, but i hate how "political" being trans is right now. i keep overthinking everything, like "maybe i should have waited" or "this was a dangerous thing to do right now."

but if society wasn't weird about trans people i'd embrace my transition wholeheartedly. i love the body hair especially haha. i know this is kind of a broad ask, but how do i stop feeling so scared? or i guess, how to stop caring about how other people are seeing me? do you have any tips or advice?

I live in a super trans-friendly area, and work in a super trans-friendly field/encouragement (education/super progressive nonprofit orgs) so I am perhaps not the best person to ask, unfortunately!

I will still offer that my experience has been that even my conservative family, and conservative people I have worked with, don't really want to raise a fuss about it. These are folks who are maybe more "fiscally conservative" types, or libertarian "do what you want & let me hate you for it in peace" types, both more typical of rural PNW. But even my bornagain MAGA uncle who likes to pick fights with me on everything else just sort of, like, avoids the topic & goes with it. I think a lot of it has to do with keeping the peace among more accepting family (like his parents/my grandparents), and a lot of it has to do with a genuine desire not to lose relationships altogether. I think a lot of people really do re-evaluate some of their beliefs when it comes to real life, high stakes interactions and relationships.

and even before T, I was passing as a man in conservative areas. People didn't want to see a trans person when they saw me, so they just... didn't. they chose to believe I was a boy or a young man, maybe a little weird, but not in any way that was their business. I had an extended conversation with an older veteran in a conservative area where he asked me if I was military, referred to me as a young man, etc. and I was very much pre-T (and boy I was NOT masculine in any way but clothes & hair, I promise you). people see what they want to see, and they typically do not want to see trans people, even if it does occur to them that trans people exist at all.

again, I've been really lucky in terms of where I am and who I spend my time around! I know my experiences are not remotely universal, and a lot of this also has to do with my being young, thinner/average weight, and white. just to say that even in a more polarized time, the average person simply does not want to engage in confrontation any more than you do.

all that said, I'd love to hear from folks in the notes who can add some of their experiences, perspectives, and words of wisdom!

[letaliabane]

@darkangel4121 Oh definitely there is a little bit of jealousy! I think a little too soon to talk about marriage but in terms of courting? He's been out of the game for a long time and Maid!reader has caught his interest.

After you had disappeared into the house, Johnny turned to Simon, clapping him on the arm once again laughing. 'Been a long time 'ey Lieutenant! Where have ye been hidin' all these years?'

'You know the usual Johnny, doing whatever was necessary to survuve day by day,' Simon muttered while removing his mask without hesitation, lighting up yet another cigarette and holding it between his teeth. He lit a second and handed it over to Johnny, who thanked him quietly.

All the while, his eyes stayed glued to the door, taking a long drag and letting the smoke drift from between his lips. His thoughts had been all but consumed for the past few weeks of you alone.

It had been a long time since someone had caught his eye the way you had. Perhaps it was because he had been so wrapped up in war and the world of secrets for so much of his life that he never had the time. When Price had written to him asking if he would come to the house to work as a valet it was the first thought of a 'normal life' in many years.

Honestly he thought he'd die eventually on a battlefield looking up at the skies.

Though he was intrigued to arrive at the Abbey, he was nervous. He was fine with people's reactions to him, but some deep corner of his heart had a wound that never seemed to heal. A part he knew was a consequence of being the ghost.

When he saw you for the first time and how you greeted him without hesitation, it healed that very wound just a little. Besides the men from the war, no woman had treated him with such kindness for so many years.

But seeing how you greeted Johnny, how he had wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off your feet, lit a fire in his belly. Was it jealousy? Was it anxiety? Fear? He couldn't really put a finger on it.

Johnny realised Simon had been silent for some time, glancing to see him still staring intently at the door to the servant's hall. He smiled, 'Lass caught ya' attention, has she?'

Simon's head snapped to him so quickly, he felt the twinge of pain in his neck. 'Perhaps.'

'I don't blame ye. She's a sweet lil' thing.' Johnny said with his cigarette between his lips, leaning against the brick wall comfortably.

Clearing his throat, Simon asked, 'You two close? Has she been around here long?'

'Ye she joined few years aftef meh. She's like a lil' sista to me, she taught me that lesson very quick,' He said, sheepishly running his hand over the back of his head where she had whacked him, 'But she's a sweet, sweet lass. Very kind and helpful to all. And from the looks of it, ye've warmed up to her too!'

A weight seemed to lift from his chest, a relief. And for what? Perhaps the chance for something more.

Seeing him lost in thought, Johnny smiled, leaning over to Simon, clapping a hand on his arm. 'Take ye time Simon, I ken ye already care for her. Don't rush into anythin'. Not so m much for her sake but for yers.'

Simon couldn't help but smile, gripping Johnny's arm with a squeeze. Taking one last drag from the cigarette, he let it fall and crush beneath his boot heel.

'Come on, or we'll miss dinner.'

Part 1 - Call of Duty Masterlist a/n: This was fun to expand on! If anyone has any more thoughts on the couple or other characters feel free to send them through!

@lostintransist @teapartydreams

[not-nadnerb]

Just watched all three of Peter Jackson's The Hobbit films.

It's been years since I've seen them. It's also been years since I read the book.

But I've got opinions. And most of them...

Are positive!

No, it's not how the book goes. It absolutely is not. There are Orcs and Saurons and Radagasts and Legolases and a whole lot of this movie is just not, at all, how the book goes.

But Radagast is cool and silly and perhaps the kindest and most gentle person Middle-Earth has to offer. I absolutely love him and I wish him nothing but the best. (And I hope he and Tom Bombadil are friends, they'd either get along great or always be on each other's last nerve)

Legolas is an elf from Mirkwood (which I still feel annoyed about not knowing from the LotR movies, but I am now mostly just confused because I've seen The Hobbit films before so how the heck did I miss all of that). Of course he'd be doing things here and, especially considering what I know of his reputation in the movies, of course he'd be going out to be part of all of the action. And there's no way you can hate on Tauriel's story because, well, love!

And the Orcs are cool. I like them. I do feel like they could have not been servants of Sauron, and I also feel (although I am probably wrong) like Gandalf AND Elrond AND Galadriel AND Saruman (well maybe not actually him) all already knowing that Sauron is back has to create some canon inconsistency of some sort, somewhere. But they're cool! I liked Thorin's Orc Nemesis, and his hero's death. They have a lot of good scenes and cool emotional beats.

AND! I like that the dwarves get a chance to fight Smaug themselves in this movie! I like that when he was killed with a single arrow, that arrow was a Black Arrow and actually cool, and fired after we get to know and care about Bard, the guy who made the shot! The absence of both of these things really bothered me in the book, and both have been fixed in the movie, and I still like that a lot! And also watching all the politicking surrounding The Battle of Five Armies, watching Thorin go a wee bit insane and giving Bilbo an actual reason to withhold the Arkenstone from him are really good touches too!

So in conclusion, Hobbit Movies Good.

But I will also continue to complain about things in the Lord of the Rings books that didn't make the movies because the fact that I thought I knew this story and I absolutely did not is still baffling to me.

Nearly done reading Fellowship. The movie comes tomorrow.