#was like 'well he executed the procedure perfectly'

[ourlordapollo]

Those "oddly specific" polls keep including "never broken a bone" and I keep alluding to my Toe Dislocation Experience and now I feel compelled to tell the story

So I was horsing around with my cousin at the tender age of "idk like probably 11 or 12 I think" when he happened to step on my foot in such a way that one of my toes got wrenched out of socket

So of course I screamed

So of course all the adults came running

They whisked me off to The Computer Room where my mom promptly pulled up Wikihow and coached my uncle through the process of yanking my toe back into socket

I iced it for a while and made a perfect recovery.

That's my story.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Brilliant Minds | Yandere Idia Shroud

Idia couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he watched the frantic news reporter report the hacking of the Intergalactic Federation of Force and Intelligence.

“Behind me is the I.F.F.!’s home base on Feluschia, where the council members are meeting to begin the investigation on who is the culprit. Now I.F.F.I has many that would jump at the opportunity: the Jupiter Faction of Control, the Galaxy’s Safeguard, space pirates–”

It was not the easiest to break past the thousands of firewalls to get into the system but it still could be done in less than a week. But to him it was needed. If it inconvenienced those pencil-pushers in any way shape or form it’d be worth it. Idia remembered being plagued with the mandatory ejecting of adolescents who spent a set amount of time within their rooms. Too many times could Idia think back to the days he was dragged out of his room to meet said requirements. 

“Consider it payback for all the 24 hour events you made me miss!”

Thunk!

Thunk!

“Hold on what–”

Ship’s main power is being diverted to the bridge. 

“What?!”

Lockdown procedures in process and will only be released with authorized code.

“Wait–”

Pepare for boarding by the Intergalactic Federation of Force and Intelligence. 

“Oh come on!”

Nice to meet you Idia Shroud, please do not resist your arrest. We’d like not to use force. 

The blue light from his monitors reflected the rectangular shape of a red lazor slicing through his door. Turning from his spot he jumped when the door slammed to the ground and his space was lit up with various flashlights and the sounds of soldiers routinely fanning about the room.

“Don’t move! Hands in the air!”

“Fine fine just don’t touch those figurines those are worth more than your life.”

The masked soldier that grabbed him was harsh, latching on a frigid metallic cuffs engulfing his hands. The force meant to keep him down, nearly put his hair out keeping his head uncomfortably to the side. Perfectly in view of the head officer he’d seen in press reports.

“Glad to see we can finally make your acquaintance, Shroud. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Nice to meet you too Captain Flamme. Surprised to see the likes of you reinstated so soon.”

The captain with gray hair glared at him removing a handkerchief from the inside of his coat to hold over his mouth. Which barely hid the sneer he was directing at the arrested Idia.

“Muzzle him as well. I’d hate to subject the council to this worm’s snark.”

“Yes Captain!”

Idia groaned behind the metal clasp being roughly forced on his mouth. He’s certain if it ever came off again he’d have marks. 

But knowing the I.F.F.I he doubt they’d even allow that courtesy with what they had planned for them.

_______________________________________________

“I suggest to the council an  execution for punishment. Or the archaic symbol of severing the offenders hands.”

Chatter among the crowd seemed to be in agreement, nods filtering through the crowd. The heads of the council looked convinced as well, hands raised and about to cast their votes with a press of a button. They hesitated when the crowd began to gasp and whisper. 

All their attention was no longer on the cuffed and muzzled hacker or the Captain who’s gaze barely softened at the individual requesting a platform to speak. A council member resembling the Earth-bird: Crow raised his hand to silence the speculating gathering. Letting the platform they stood on glow with recognition, humming as it floated past the prisoner and closer to the Captain. Standing closer to the council and bridging the gap between them and the prisoner they finally spoke. 

“Mechanic (Y/n) (L/n) of the WonderRide Star code: 42395 reporting.”

The praised star salute and the name of the ship they hailed from had the crowd erupting in another round of gasps. This time containing the excited squeals and chattering of avid fans of the ship. The council member called order once again, struggling a bit more this time. 

Idia was no stranger to the tales and rumors surrounding the ‘WonderRide.’ Online forums stated they had a vile and violent streak, up until recently with the beast-savvy human mechanic. Their exploits often involved in galaxy saving adventures that inspired many a game he indulged in. That didn’t mean he was a fan by any means and was even more prepared for whatever creative punishment the star fleet were to come with.

“Speak mechanic.”

“Aye. I implore the council not to execute or cripple the prisoner in anyway,” they paused already expecting the uproar that the crowd would have. Even Captain Flamme seemed to be taken aback tucking his hand into his coat, no doubt to squeeze the handkerchief he seemed so fond of. 

“Explain yourself mechanic.”

“Gladly.” The mechanic turned for the council, letting the platform split breaking into smaller pieces to accommodate the widesteps forward they were making. “Never before have we had anyone break down the barriers of our system so efficiently. I feel as though chopping his head off now would be a waste.”

The council members allowed the crowd to stir with the same increduality they were feeling. 

“Are you suggesting we employ this criminal?”

The mechanic let a cute smile spread across their face.

“I am.”

More shouts from the crowd. The Captain Flamme took control this time.

“Why would we allow this fiend deeper access to us if he’s already shown to be a threat?”

“The only way a human’s immune system adapts to be better is by being introduced to viruses enough to make antibodies.”

“The I.F.F.I isn’t an immune system. Why take the risk of being infected in the first place?”

The mechanic grew stern, holding the Captain’s gaze while gesturing to the evidence in a hover cage. 

“How many people have you seen demonstrate such a wide knowledge of all kinds of technology?” 

They turned to council addressing them specifically,”Wouldn’t you regret not taking advantage of a mind as great as his?”

Murmurs engulfed the crowds once again and the council members conversed during that time, showing a clear divide among them. After a moment a verdict was reached and the button was pressed with their decree.

“Mechanic and Captain, you both will be in charge of the prisoner’s rehabilitation during the recovery mission. Should he step out of line Rollo Flamme we grant you permission to do as you please.”

“Thank you.”

“Mechanic (L/n)?”

“Yes?”

“This prisoner’s life is spared on your recommendation alone, thus it will be at your expense if he does end up causing damage to I.F.F.I. Do you accept this responsibility?”

“Yes!”

Well look at that, turns out Idia didn’t need to hack the security fields before his execution. He figures he’ll still plant a bug for some later sabotage though. 

_______________________________________________

“From now on you will be under our jurisdiction. Thus you are expected to listen to whatever we order.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry too much, you’ll just be providing support with maintaining wiring and if I do need any help doing anything that’d be faster together.---”

“I doubt we’ll  need you for something like that anyway, (Y/n) is perfectly efficient on their own.”

Hearing the Captain and the mechanic speak to him directly just accentuated the differences he perceived at his trial. The Captain was stiff, borderline rude always quirking his lip in disgust and reaching inside his coat pocket. Whereas the mechanic was incredibly too smiley for working with a man with such a stick up the thorax. It’d be easier to get past the second one.

“So happy to work with you Idia! I was a big fan of that double helix power system you had your gaming system work with. It’s just so much more efficient!”

He figured it’d ultimately worked out that the mechanic was a fan. It’d make developing his latest bug much easier. He kept his answers short as the mechanic show him around the station, finally giving him privacy in his bunk that didn’t last long on courtesy of the Captain. 

“(Y/n) might be eager to give you a chance but I do not. One step out of line and I’ll chop that flaming head of yours myself.”

“Gee you almost sound desperate enough to frame me yourself.”

The insinuation only made the Captain hum, pulling the handkerchief out fully to fervently glare at him from behind it. 

“I will not show any mercy if you hurt them.”

He must be talking about the mechanic. Clearly a case of unrequited feelings for the trigger-happy Captain. Now that he thought about it the handkerchief didn’t come out around them. He’d have to be careful with that. 

“Got it, captain.”

“Tch, fix your uniform you look like a reckless bum.”

The Captain turned to leave, perfectly timed with the door sliding open revealing that stupidly smiling mechanic with a case full of tools. 

“Hey Rollo, heading to the brig?”

The handkerchief was tucked away again and the tired-looking Captain was smiling as though he didn’t just threaten him. 

“I am. Just giving some final warnings to our…guest.”

“Crewmember,” the mechanic corrected, giving a pat on the back to the Captain,”I’ll see you on the deck, shortly.” 

With that the door hissed closed making the mechanic shake their head at the closed door. 

“Sorry about him, he’s just a little uptight with new comers. Trust me he’s definitely going to get nicer as he get’s to know you.”

Idia stifled a snarky ‘doubt it’ with a nod, coming closer to look at the tools he’s been given.

“So for your final instruction we’ll just go over these tools and then I’ll let you get to work. I really hope we can get along Idia!”

Yeah he’s sure he will.

____________________________________________

Just as he had expected, life on this ship was torturous. Beside the Captain that looked for any opportunity to slight him, the crew was filled with violent and bossy extroverts that wasted no time pushing him around. It was perfect fuel for the late nights he would spend crafting the perfect virus for the WonderRide’s system and ultimately I.F.F.I. He was slaving these nights to give it a much more powerful kick this time, considering the only access he was given was such minor programming. The only thing that seemed to get in his way, bringing an uncomfortable heat under his too high collar was—

“Hey Idia, what are you doing up so late?”

That stupid mechanic.

He made up some vague excuse about understanding the innerworkings of the ship. At one point he did need to take some time to understand how it worked but that was in the span of hours since he got here. But it seemed to convince them. 

“W-what are you doing up so late?”

The question came out of nervousness; he didn’t care but the less they spoke about himself the better. They sighed, pulling a hover chair over to his own, twirling about like he would while something was loading.

“I have to reinforce our system’s software, it recently has been a bit more fragile with that pirate group upping the ante.”

“Oh…hows it going?”

“It’s alright, it’s just a matter of being careful. One slip up at this point in the game would mean some of the members on the ship in critical care might lose their specified nursebots. But no pressure.”

“Oh…”

He felt his face and hair heat up in guilt embarrassment. He startled when he felt a warm hand rub soothingly at his back.

“Hey don’t feel too bad, you didn’t know. Besides I’m here to fix it so they’ll be okay.”

“I-if you like I could reverse some of the damage I’ve done. Specifically the more heavy hitting viruses.”

“Really? Thanks Idy that’d help me a lot!”

He thought he couldn’t get any warmer but he was wrong. 

“Idy?”

“Oh it’s my new nickname for you! Do you like it? I can pick something else if you like!”

“No! I-it’s okay! I like it.”

Maybe this little bug could wait for another night, afterall it’s only fair he aid his superior. No other reason. 

______________________________________________________

Red alerts in space games couldn’t compare the distress of the real thing. The unnatural shaking of the ship, the blaring lights, the yelling, the screaming. It had the hacker shaking more than he expected. 

“Move it hacker! (Y/n) needs help handling those pirates. I’ll kill you if you let them down!”

Idia felt wrong blowing off his concern as the Captain shoved him into the mechanic’s cockpit. It sounded as frantic as the flashing lights above. When he entered the room full of monitors and buttons, he expected the beaming mechanic to be seriously locking in like the rest of the crew. Straight-faced and typing frantically as they demanded they get started.

“Hiya Idy, glad you could join the party!”

They were chewing on a straw and casually inviting him to take on different lines of quickly evolving codes all meant to shut down all functions in the WonderRide. It was a constant barrage of violent changing code to sift through and negate with each others code. 

“This is bad (Y/n). We won’t be able to make it!”

“We will. It’ll be close but we can do this.”

“W-what if I throw in my ace in the hole?” 

He vaguely flashed a look at their face illuminated by red light, seeing their eyebrow quirk in confusion. 

“I’ve got another bug, if we can send it to their system it might give us the break we need to get on top of it.”

“Idy that’s crazy,” they paused looking around. Idia was prepared for this, for the betrayal that’d spread across their face as they connected the dots. He let his hands work on their own watching their expression as they turned back to him, holding something in their hand.

“I was thinking the same thing!”

Idia once again felt that the room needed more air circulation, with how hot he was under his collar. Both of them coordinating the release of their viruses to send to the attacking software. Naturally the assault worked perfectly, allowing more than an enough time for the both of them to defend against the slowing barrage of malicious code. Sharing a high-five as the red alarm stopped blaring and coms with the Captain rang through, “Hey we’re regulating our flight patterns and getting out of their range. Splendid work.”

The mechanic cheered while Idia silently celebrated. He’d usually mourn the loss of such a cultivated virus but for whatever reason the Mechanic’s praise seemed to fill the space. 

Idia felt like he could get used to this.

____________________________________________________________

“If you want, I’ll sign your release forms from the WonderRide.”

The words coming from the Captain was startling. A month ago he’d jump at the chance to accept but his sight drifted to look at the empty chair of the mechanic. It was a longer day, the night cycle fully in swing and a good chunk of the crew had retired. 

For a change Idia was on the quarter deck, shadowing the mechanic as the Captain continued to monitor the state of the ship. He seemed more focused than usual despite the peaceful cruise. 

“I realize you may not be dedicated to risking your life when it comes to stopping fellow criminals that threaten to take the I.F.F.I down.” Rollo continued not waiting for Idia’s answer, “I can have you sent to another department, one on the ground and more covert.”

“Y-you would do that?”

The Captain sent a scathing look to him, activating minor shields still continuing to monitor the autopilot. 

“It was an option given after your trial. The members of the WonderRide take an oath both under the council and among each other. Where we’ve promised to protect one another with our lives on the pursuit of peace.”

Idia smugly shook his head,”It still surprises me that the rumored creator of the fireseed, suddenly cares for justice and peace.”

The hacker dryly laughed as the Captain refused to look at him. 

“My closed incident aside. I’ve commited to giving my life protecting members on this ship under the influence of one person.”

That caught Idia’s attention.

“(Y/n)?”

Rollo hummed,”I’ve ultimately dedicated all my energy to eradicate the threats that endanger their life…along with the other members of the WonderRide. But I don’t expect someone like you to want to give your life for that.”

Idia opened his mouth to speak, stopping at a gloved hand stopping him.

“Don’t give me whatever drivel you’ve come up with to maintain your innocence. I can tell you enjoy their attention but I advise you leave before you get too attached.”

Grayish, green-blue eyes stared into Idia’s golden eyes. 

Goading him. 

Testing him.

“Otherwise you’ll surely end up dying, protecting them.”

Idia wanted to say something but a blaring bleeping on his screen stopped him. Sitting up properly to blow the graphic up on the large screen.

“There’s a ship directed towards us. It’s moving way too fast to be a cruiser….I think?”

Rollo took control turning off autopilot with a push of a button.

“You’re right. I suspected they’d come for us like this.” 

He flicked on a button that flashed an orange warning along the halls and walls—instructing everyone to strap in and secure themselves. Idia hurriedly was going to do the same until Rollo yelled.

“Not you. I’m going to engage in some evasive maneveurs but I need you to secure (Y/n).”

“What? But can’t they see the warning.”

“They should but I know (Y/n). They’ll have their nose stuck in whatever their doing, far too distracted to actually secure themself.”

For whatever reason that comment was painful.

“But I don’t know wh–”

Rollo clicked his tongue, as he tapped the floating keyboard. Letting it shift and fold to resemble a pilot’s handles and buttons. Putting his hand on the handle and lightly moving it, Idia could feel the ship sway in sync.

“You’ll have to decide if you want to quit later but for now you need to secure them. Now!”

After managing to get a decent foothold the hacker ran off, mind racing as he tried to recall what they ran off to do. Vaguely remembering that they mentioned wires he took off to the wire room only to find it empty. 

“Where else could they have gone when they said–”

Immediately he took off further down the hall closer to the kitchen. Recalling how they occasionally brought the topic of snacks back up and then checking the digital storage copies. He ran occasionally bumping into the walls as the jerking of the ship got more intense.

He yelled when he arrived at the closed door to engineering room. Banging his fists on the door in frustration before finally looking at the keypad. Realizing this room took a specific code, Idia pulled out a master keycard. One he’d replicated and kept for himself.

Finally hearing the hissing of the door it opened to the dark engineering room filled with electric storage bins that displayed a secured locked signal. Everything seemed in place except for the mechanic on the floor motionless. 

“(Y/n)!”

Sliding to the ground he worked to sit them up, leaning the mechanic on his chest while he brought his face close feeling the light push of air against his cheek. He immediately backed away reeling with relief and bashfullness. He adjusted them to lean on him between his legs, trapping them against on of the organizational beams in the room. Holding tight to the bar and to (Y/n) themself he thought about what Rollo had said. 

He had the option to return to the life he knew. 

Stars, if he wanted to he could even recraft the bug that nearly brought the entire federation down. Return to the virtual space he ruled over, constantly aiming for the top spot in the galaxies. 

Or he could stay here…with you. His smiling mechanic, that shared in his love for technology. That spoke to him like he didn’t dismantle years of your hard work in a week. That was still cracking jokes while their ship was under siege. Staring down at your sleeping face he clutched the mechanic even tighter, letting his head rest against your own. 

Was it crazy that he sympathized with Rollo now? Outright threatening any newcomers on the ship. Hoping to squash the pirate regime not because they’re a threat to the federation but because they’ve caused you pain. 

He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Unlike Rollo–who was better suited for a leading role–Idia was immediately placed in your department. Demanded special attention by the council because everyone was so cautious about him. Being his solemotivator and friend was more mandatory then he could have hoped. It’s a given what his answer would be.

“The real crime would be to give you up.”

[nesiacha]

Last letter of Babeuf to his family before his execution

“Good evening, my friends. I am ready to wrap myself in eternal night. I express myself better to the friend to whom I address the two letters you will have seen; I express my situation to him better than I can do to you. It seems to me that I feel nothing for feeling too much. I entrust your fate into his hands. Alas! I do not know if you will find him in a position to do what I ask of him; I do not know how you will be able to reach him. Your love for me has brought you here through all the obstacles of our misery; you have sustained yourselves amidst pains and deprivations; your constant sensitivity has followed every moment of this long and cruel procedure from which you have, like me, drunk the bitter cup; but I do not know how you will manage to return to the place from which you came; I do not know if you will find friends there; I do not know how my memory will be appreciated, despite believing I have behaved in the most irreproachable manner; finally, I do not know what will become of all the republicans, their families, and even their suckling children amidst the royal fury that the counter-revolution will bring. Oh my friends! How heartbreaking these reflections are in my last moments!… To die for the homeland, to leave a family, children, a beloved wife, would be more bearable if I did not see at the end the lost freedom and all that belongs to sincere republicans wrapped in the most horrible proscription. Ah! my dear children, what will become of you! I cannot defend myself here from the most intense sensitivity… Do not think that I regret sacrificing myself for the most beautiful of causes; even if all my efforts are in vain for them, I have fulfilled my duty…

If, against my expectations, you could survive the terrible storm that now rumbles over the Republic and all that is attached to it; if you could find yourselves in a peaceful situation and find some friends who would help you triumph over your misfortunes, I would recommend that you live well united together; I would recommend to my wife to try to raise her children with great gentleness, and I would recommend to my children to deserve their mother’s kindness by respecting her and always being obedient to her. It is the duty of the family of a martyr of freedom to set the example of all virtues to attract the esteem and attachment of all good people.

I would wish for my wife to do everything possible to educate my children, encouraging all her friends to assist her in whatever way they can for this purpose. I invite Emile to lend himself to this wish of a father who I believe is well-loved, and of whom he was so fond; I invite him to do so without delay and as soon as he can.

My friends, I hope that you will all remember me and that you will speak of me often. I hope you will believe that I have loved you all very much. I could conceive no other way to make you happy than through our shared happiness. I have failed: I have sacrificed myself; it is also for you that I die.

Speak often of me to Camille; tell him a thousand and a thousand times that I held him tenderly in my heart.

Say the same to Caïus when he is able to hear it.

Lebois announced that he would print our defenses separately. It is necessary to give my defense as much publicity as possible. I recommend to my wife, my dear friend, not to give to Baudouin, to Lebois, or to others, any copy of my defense, without having another accurate one kept with her, so as to ensure that this defense is never lost. You will know, my dear friend, that this defense is precious, that it will always be dear to virtuous hearts and friends of their country. The only good that will remain of me will be my reputation. And I am sure that you and your children will find great solace in enjoying it. You will love to hear all sensitive and upright hearts speak of your husband, your father: He was perfectly virtuous.

Farewell. I cling to the earth only by a thread that tomorrow will break. That is certain; I see it too clearly. It must be sacrificed. The wicked are the strongest; I yield to them. It is at least sweet to die with a conscience as pure as mine; all that is cruel, all that is heartbreaking, is to be torn from your arms, oh my tender friends, oh all that I hold most dear!… I tear myself away; the violence is done… Farewell, farewell, farewell, a million times farewell…

One more word. Write to my mother and my sisters. Send them by coach or otherwise my defense, as it will be printed. Tell them how I died, and try to make them understand, these good people, that such a death is glorious, far from being dishonored…

Farewell then once again, my dearly beloved, my tender friends. Farewell forever; I wrap myself in the bosom of a virtuous sleep.”

Source:

[fortheloveof-sebastian]

Follow You

Pairings: Sebastian x Reader

Summary: Sebastian finds you with Highwing and convinces you for a ride, resulting in an afternoon you won’t soon forget.

Warnings: kissing, fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This was requested by @scarydeadlavender . I got carried away by this idea — anyway, I hope you enjoy🥰

“What is that?”

You whirl around, drawing out your wand. Out of all of the places to be surprised, the Forbidden Forest was not at the top of your list. Actually, you would prefer not to be surprised at all, but nothing did as much as seeing a certain fifth year standing before you.

You do your best to appear nonchalant. “What’s…what?” You ask innocently.

Sebastian’s features are composed into a mixture of disbelief and amazement. You think, rather briefly, that he looks particularly cute like that, his eyes widen and mouth open. But then he gestures behind you, breaking your trance. “The hippogriff standing behind you?”

“Oh.” You turn back as if this is the first time you’ve realized. “Yeah. Um, this is Highwing.”

“And how do you know Highwing?”

The hippogriff regards you in a puzzled manner, inquisitive eyes glinting in the light slanting through the thick canopy above you. If she could talk, you figure she would probably be saying: and who is this?

You shake your head — you only have enough energy to answer one ridiculous question at a time, and better to answer the one posed not by your imagination. Sebastian stares at you, a single brow raised, as if waiting.

“Well, before I answer that,” you say, raising your chin. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

It’s Sebastian’s turn to appear sheepish. “Yes. No.” A blush reddens his freckled cheeks. “Yes.”

“And why, pray tell?”

He recovers from his embarrassment quickly. The familiar light of mischievous determination ignites in his eyes. “I asked you a question first.”

Highwing tosses her head and grunts. Clearly, she’s sick of the evasive measures. You scowl. Resigned, you explain the adventure you had with Natty, how you snuck into the poachers base and freed the shackled hippogriffs. Sebastian listens carefully, without interruption, but his gaze occasionally drifts from you to the feathered beast behind you and back.

When you finish, his shoulders lift as if to say: I don’t know what I expected.

He replies simply, “I’m insulted that you go gallavanting around having wonderful adventures without me, but I suppose I can forgive you in the spirit of rescuing endangered creatures.” Sebastian rests his hands on his hips. “So, have you ridden it?”

“Her,” you correct. “And no, not since the night that we escaped.”

Sebastian frowns as if disappointed. “Why not?”

“I…I don’t know,” you admit.

“Do you think she would let us?”

You both turn to Highwing. The beast stamps her feet, then flexes her impressive wings, feathers rustling like leaves in the wind.

Sebastian grins. “I take that as a yes.”

“Okay, fine,” you finally concede. You review the proper procedures to approach Highwing with Sebastian, who waves you off. He executes the procedures perfectly, robes sweeping the leafy forest floor as he bows.

Highwing blinks. The slightest of a smile unfurls on your face as you watch the hippogriff dip her head, and allows Sebastian to stroke her beak.

He beams at you.

You climb onto Highwing first as she crouches down. Whispered words of encouragement leave your mouth. You thought that you were sparing yourself, having Sebastian at your back, but as his body falls into place, you realize you have made a grave mistake.

Sebastian’s chest is flush against your back. Every time you’re close to him, you’re reminded of how physically demanding he is, broad and strong and warm. His arms slide beneath yours and around your waist. The proximity is, frankly, intoxicating. Distractingly so. You swallow, and grab onto a handful of feathers near Highwing’s neck, hoping to refocus yourself.

“Ready?” Sebastian’s voice says, close to your ear, breath fanning across your neck.

You imagine how it would feel for him to kiss it.

Merlin’s beard, you chide yourself.

“Ready,” you say.

Then, before Sebastian can do anything else to unintentionally evoke inappropriate thoughts from you, you drive your heel into Highwing’s side. The hippogriff whinnies and her powerful body coils, before launching you both through the canopy of trees. Branches whip past your face then, as you explode into the open air, a cooling breeze greets you, pushing your hair back.

The Forbidden Forest disappears from view, and the rest of the landscape unfolds in front of you. Thick patches of forest, beautiful mountain ranges, and glimpses of glistening bodies of water. Your gaze races across it all, taking it all in without entirely believing that it was real, that you were really seeing this. In fact, you’re so immersed in the astonishing views that you temporarily had forgotten Sebastian was behind you.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet. You realize that, since sliding in behind you, his body has tensed and is now gradually loosening.

Highwing stretches her wings and soars over the tops of the trees. Wind rushes past your face.

Sebastian, seemingly without his permission, releases a cry of delight, one fist pumping into the air. You laugh. With Rookwood and everything that’s been going on, you haven’t had much reason for laughter, for the freeing sensation unfolding inside your chest. Soon you’re both howling and yelling into the wind, clasping your thighs tightly onto Highwing and holding out both arms as the hippogriff arcs over the countryside.

You finally direct Highwing to land on an expanse of field. Brightly colored flowers create an aisle as the hippogriff touches down. Sebastian hops off first, and offers you a hand as you dismount after him.

The smile on your face has begun to ache from the effort of keeping it, although you can’t seem to stop. Sebastian keeps your hand in his as he leads you through the field of tall grass and swaying flowers, the sound of your combined laughter joining with that of nature.

“Where are we going?” You giggle, exhilarated by your recent trip and the boy whose hand you’re holding.

Sebastian laughs and shouts over his shoulder, “I don’t know!”

He continues to guide you, hand in hand, through the field and down a hill. At the base of it is a small lake, teeming with lily pads and the shadows of fish flickering beneath the surface. It’s only as large as a standard classroom in the castle, but the sight of it thrills you. Sebastian releases your hand and runs to the water’s edge, before kicking off his shoes and wiggling out of his black and emerald school robes.

A strange heat pools into the pit of your stomach as he removes his vest and begins to work the buttons of his undershirt. When he catches you staring, he smirks. “Care for a picture?”

“Oh, bugger off,” you reply, laughing.

You stand a few feet from the shore as Sebastian wades in, clad only in his breeches. His back to you, you allow yourself to appreciate the sun in his dark hair, and the splash of freckles across his shoulders previously hidden from you now on display.

“Are you going to join me?” Sebastian asks. “Or have I made a fool of myself for nothing?”

You can’t help but grin. “You always look a fool,” you tease. You frown. “But I don’t want to get wet. How are we going to dry off?”

Sebastian beckons towards Highwing, who roams at the top of the hill, grazing. “I say that we’ll be fine. C’mon, don’t be a spoil sport.”

“Well, in fear of that.”

You avoid his gaze as you remove your school robes, shortly followed by your shoes and vest. Too embarrassed to discard much more, you fold your arms in front of your chest and slip into the cool embrace of the lake.

You and Sebastian frolic in the waters like children, giggling and splashing one another until you’re both drenched. It doesn’t take long for your fingers to wrinkle, and the sun to burn your faces, so you drag yourselves onto the shore and lay on the grass, basking in the warmth.

Content, you close your eyes.

“You never did answer my question,” you tell him.

You hear Sebastian shift beside you. Prying open an eye, you find that he’s much closer than you originally thought, merely inches away. He’s laying on his side, one hand supporting his head.

He asks, “And what would that be?”

“Why did you follow me into the Forest?”

Sebastian smirks, but the tone of his voice betrays him. Slightly anxious, lacking it’s usual bravado. “I was hoping you forgot about that, but clearly I was mistaken.”

“You could never be so fortunate,” you reply. “I actually have an impervious memory.”

“Is that why you cheated on my Potions exam?”

You swat him, smiling. “Stop avoiding the question.”

Sebastian sighs in a resigned matter. “Fine, if I must tell you, I was following you to ensure that no harm came to you.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Now, before you say something about how you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself, I already know that quite well. I suppose that I just couldn’t help myself.” A look of guilt passes across his face. “I hope you aren’t cross with me.”

“No,” you say, softly. You digest this information the way that you might savor the last piece of a particularly delicious hard candy, rolling it over in your mind and enjoying the taste of it. “I think it’s rather sweet of you, actually.”

Sebastian’s expression changes again, this time in a way that renders you speechless. His handsome features soften, revealing a fragment of vulnerability that you hadn’t seen but once before. Using the hand not supporting his head, he captures a lock of your hair and gently, painfully intimate, tucks it behind your ear.

“I care quite a bit about you,” he breathes. “I shall like to do everything in my power to keep you safe. However much you allow me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel your heart begin to beat furiously. “I care about you, too.”

“And I shall follow you to the ends of the Earth if necessary. Or, perhaps, just the Forbidden Forest,” he adds. A grin breaks his serious expression, although you sense that he’s still being genuine.

“I think that I would like to be followed by you,” you tell him. “As long as you allow a little following as well.”

Sebastian laughs, tilting his head back, and the sound fills you with light.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

In an desperately smooth maneuver, Sebastian closes the space between you. He rolls you onto your back so that he looms above you, one arm trapping your head while the other comes to rest on your cheek. His eyes dart to your lips.

“To following each other,” he says.

“To following each other,” you reply breathlessly.

He kisses you then, and he tastes of lake water and hard candy and sunlight, of adventure and love and friendship. And happily you sink into him — as much as you knew in your heart that you would follow him anywhere, you wished that you could remain in that moment forever.

[sweetfirebird]

I have a messy rant about some historical docs that I needed to get out. It's incomplete and not well-written, but, yeah, I had to get it out of my head. So it's going behind a cut. Free free to ignore it.

It's amazing how many documentaries about notorious historical figures will do their best to avoid any thought or commentary about the systems these people lived in (and sometimes ruled over). They might do a passing mention of something terrible in the person's childhood or something. But it's only ever in passing and it's not even a guarantee that it will get mentioned at all. (Maybe it's the shitty documentaries and I need some better books on the subjects.)

And I am not excusing any of the things these people did if they did do them. It's just incredible to me, though I shouldn't be surprised because we don't even really do this now for our current notorious figures.

As one example, though, I've watched/listened to a lot of things about Richard III and not one has really gone into any depth about the warring all throughout his formative years or how that was pretty normal? for the ruling class of that time and place? His brother had his other brother executed (for reasons but nonetheless he did it). His brother also (more than likely) had the previous king murdered. This was the procedure. This is a system that encouraged this and allowed this--as long as you held the throne once you had it and gave your supporters their cash money and honors.

Is (allegedly) killing your tween nephews bad? Yeah obviously but it also... is the logical outcome of that system. It was as close to perfectly normal as a system that allows taking leadership of a country by force and bloodline can be. He just failed at holding the throne but he wasn't like... unusual.

But they don't want to talk about that because, I assume, it sort of reflects badly on the entire still going monarchy business. (And yeah yeah Tudor propaganda but I'm not talking about that right now. I'm talking about the lens with which we are examining these people now.) Probably no one wants to talk about that but my annoying nerdy ass, i know.

Or, okay. Let's say you have people accused of Bad Things ranging from general debauchery and reckless behavior to... possible devil worship... to serial killing with a frankly ridiculous number of victims. Or let's say you are discussing a few cases of "mad" kings. Or de Sade or someone like him. If you set aside the validity of many of the charges against these people (it's easy to accuse someone who is already behaving badly of behaving VERY badly in order to get what you want) and acknowledge the difficulty of diagnosing anyone hundreds or thousands of years later, you have... people being punished for being, like, too obviously the logical outcome of their time and place and then failing instead of succeeding. That's it. These monsters (to us) could only exist in those places. They are products of those places. But these specials never go into that. They just popped up out of nowhere! Amazing! A mystery!

Like, these people were just embarrassingly too much of the thing they were supposed to be and it was making the rest of those in their stations look bad, which set their peers against them and made them easy targets (for land grabs or whatever).

Or when they did succeed (while being horrible), the docs try to excuse it, and maybe this is why you get modern historians trying desperately to say that Henry VIII must have had a head injury or madness from syphilis to explain his behavior and not just....

he was never told no, guys. No one ever told him no. There was no way TO tell him no (if you wanted to keep your head). Henry is what happens when you do that. Henry is what happens when the world says women do not really have value outside of childbirth and fucking anyway. Henry is what happens when you say kings are divine--and he's also what happens when you come from a violent class and culture and you've recently had a long civil war that killed off most of the other possible claimants to the throne so there is no one to really oppose or stand up to you.

Or the slutty slutty drunken Earl of Rochester having no known childhood behavioral problems being carted off to school at thirteen and then suddenly becoming reckless and violent and lecherous? I wonder if the set up for abuse of all kinds at those schools had anything to do with that, and then also the general world for noble men of that time which allowed them to do whatever they wanted, particularly with (lower class) women with little to no repercussions. hmm a mystery where he came from.

He's not actually that unusual, he just wrote slutty slutty poems about it so he gets remembered. There were tons of dudes like him who probably did worse. They just also did enough of the things they were supposed to do that no one cared about the rest. He's not really an outlier. He is representative of the time and place.

These are ruling class people, and it's Europe, so there is also the Church to consider in all of these things, like, intricately tied up with the misogyny and classism and everything else is the Church. It is also a thing with beliefs that these docs do not want to get into. And I'm not going to go into it either right now. It's just a pattern I've noticed and it's irking me.

Heroes and horrors are created by their times. I mean... no. NO. I'm going to stop there before this gets any longer or more rambly. They still do this now, I know. But I guess I expect historians to have the distance to really look.

But as I said, maybe I just need to watch better docs.

... You can see now where Larin came from though, I bet.

[absolutebl]

Top 10 Best BLs on YouTube

These BLs are gonna be easiest to get hold of, but also dominated by Thailand.

Until We Meet Again

Thai 2019

UWMA is, without question, a work of narrative genius with a powerful and cohesive romantic backbone and stellar performances. It is (to date) the only Thai BL (of c.300 watched) that I’ve rated 10/10 predominantly on the basis of its story structure. That said it is also very well cast (and it’s a BIG cast), with solid production values, beautiful food, powerful themes, and enduring pair branding.

He's Coming to Me

Thai 2019

Boy and ghost boy fall in love, must solve ghost’s murder. Peak pining but also pretty tame, features my favorite sweet but important coming out sequence.

A Tale of Thousand Stars

Thai 2021

With great casting and cinematography this drama nods at BL tropes but manages to elevate them (and itself) with a strong mature story concept about a spoiled rich kid who gets a heart transplant and becomes a teacher it order to pay out survivor’s guilt. On the way he falls in love with a local park ranger and contends with his own classism and escapist tendencies. Everyone seemed to perfectly suit their roles and GMMTV made the most out of its stable. Combined with excellent production (and post production) values, 1000 Stars is without question GMMTV’s most mature, charming, and smart BL series. I think it should go down as one of the top BLs of all time. I feel safe recommending this one to friends and non BL watchers.

My School President

Thai 2023

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

The Sign

Thai 2024

This show is literally everything (except straight) all at once. It's BL, queer, band of brothers, romcom, erotica, PNR, fated mates, police procedural, fantasy, mystery, suspense, and slasher. It’s the king of genre mash-up chaos. Sure, it's madness but there is genius in it. Was it a crazy unhinged mess +1 roll for damage? Yes. Yes it was. Did it manage to hold all those tangled threads together? No it did not. Was it also a charming, sexy, engaging, non-stop piece of entertainment? Sure thing. I think this show is basically my KinnPorsche, and frankly I’ve been chasing that dragon naga since KP aired. Is it perfect? No. But it is balls to the wall FUN.

Emphasis on balls.

Bad Buddy

Thai 2022

This was GMMTV’s flagship BL and it started 2022 on a BANG (okay no actual banging but you know what I mean), starring heavy hitters Ohm & Nanon in a pitch perfect university Romeo & Romeo masterpiece that will give you domesticity meets pain whiplash throughout and jet lag at the end. Some of the friendship and family dynamics are overworked, but it has great production values, killer acting, and some conscious effort to correct for half a decade of Thai BL’s anti-queer mistakes. I did a watch along for this one.

Oxygen

Thai 2020

Softest seme in the universe sings his affection to the older boy at the cafe. Let the slow burn courting commence. Oxygen uses every BL trope in the playbook for one of the gentlest lowest angst BLs ever made. It’s a hyung romance (younger boy courts older boy) but very very earnest about it. Am I biased? Sure. This is probably one of my biggest comfort watches.

Lovely Writer

Thai 2021

Thailand criticizes itself and the BL industry while simultaneously giving us classic seme/uke with great chemistry in a one-two punch of “we love it, but are we supposed to? and must we think this hard, yet enjoy it SO MUCH?” This show won’t appeal or make sense to those who don’t already have at least some Thai BL watching experience. What Lovely Writer does, at heart, is reexamine Thai BL has done to queerness, but in a very gentle way that has more to do with Thai BL growing up than any actual queer authenticity. It’s not parody or pastiche, but it is self reflective and trying to correct for some chronic mistakes. Whether it is ultimately successful in this matter is going to depend on the watcher’s relationship to BL and queer identity. But that’s what makes this show beautiful, interesting, and thought provoking. And I, for one, applaud the effort even if I didn’t personally connect to all the characters.

Not Me

Thai 2022

How do you say antidisestablishmentarianism in Thai? + hot boys kissing who probably shouldn't be and convoluted soap opera identical twins plot... someone at GMMTV thought it made sense, we just here for the tattoos and the the Pride scene.

Okay so, GMMTV gave us a dark disestablishment narrative (in a time of civil unrest) with established queer award-winning director Anucha and starring the biggest guns of BL, OffGun and THIS WAS AN AMAZING THING to get to experience at the time - nerve racking but remarkable. But was it ACTUALLY BL? It certainly has a lot of BL elements, but in the end romance was not what this show was about, or even what it was genuinely trying to be as a performance piece. Still a remarkable moment in Thai cinema, certainly worth your time. Don’t worry, it all ends happily.

My Day

Pinoy 2020

The set up on this one is enemies (also boss/employee) and they don’t like each other to start. But that gets resolved pretty quickly. And then they are some of the cutest, hottest, and best boyfriends ever. This is an under-appreciated BL, IMHO.

Honorable Mention

A First Love Story

Korea 2021

Strongberry are true masters of their craft and yet A First Love Story is still one of the best things they have ever produced. It’s the only microfilm every to make one of my year end top ten list. It’s two episodes of about 8 minutes each that manage to perfectly portray the sweetest friends-to-lovers confession ever. It’s joyful, and gentle with its characters, and a little hot. How on earth do they manage to leave us yearning for more yet completely satisfied at the same time? It’s like the perfect amuse-bouche, that one finger food at that one cocktail party that you will never forget. You are a ridiculous human if you haven’t spent 16 minutes with these two boys. Go watch it now. Or go watch it again. It’s time VERY well spent.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that aired on YouTube (or was taken off the platform) after that date.

Others in this series:

GMMTV seems to have cut a deal to move some of there prestige content from YT to Viki, and launch some on iQIYI. I respect this choice from a profit margin perspective. But the show can be suddenly available nowhere for several months as a result. FYI

[blurrisbestboi]

this one took me a bit i present the daughter of Pharma and Rachet

Infirmary

(i used the version of pharma made by @utane with their permission)

Infirmary, or mary for short, has always been a good girl and top of her class with astounding marks to prove so. As a young sparkling her expectations from her sire Pharma were extremely high and he made sure that she would succeed no matter what, including the proper diet, rest cycle, and external influences.

her creation was one that wasnt planned as she was sparked towards the end of pharma and ratchets relationship together. ratchet having discovered he was carrying shortly after. he let pharma know as he felt it was the right thing to do and after she emerged, pharma had already planned her life out down to the smallest nano click

growing up, she wanted to please both of her parent whom she loved, working hard to keep up with her studies and getting top ranks as the two parents shared custody. the only time she felt she could relax was when she was with her carrier and his conjunx drift, drinking energon as she listened to the stories he told

after years of studies and training, she entered the medical field like both of her parents and became well regarded for her perfectly executed surgical procedures and diagnosis. however when she isnt in the medbay, she does her best to fit in with her peers and make friends, so far she has made a few :>

[idiacide]

Crush Behavior 🙄✨💖Pt. 3

Itssssss here, the awaited finale. And by awaited, I mean me staring at a google doc awaiting inspiration. Ignihyde (sans Ortho)-Diasomnia. I may eventually do the staff but, we’ll see. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for the support these have been getting

Ignihyde 💀🔥💙

Idia Shroud: Contrary to popular wisdom, Idia pining isn’t so straightforward a procedure as stumbling over his words and hiding in his room to avoid seeing you. Sure, that kind of thing works for a five minute crush, a momentary rush of attraction that overwhelms you with all their perfections and all your own faults. Idia is used to fleeing from those. A week or two in his room, tracking their every move with his cameras and groaning wistfully, and then Ortho drags him out to eat and he’s over it.

Honest to god romantic feelings though? That takes time to develop. Time after which his usual strategy of avoid and evade doesn’t really work.

Patience really is the word of the hour when it comes to slipping into Idia’s circle. Looking back he’s still not quite sure how you did it. Somehow it felt like you’d always been there, making a decent cushion between his NEET tendencies and Ortho’s well-meaning but overbearing attempts to hype his big brother up. For as much as he’d resisted any disruption into his social world, once you were firmly in something about the arrangement just…clicks, for him. You…keep up. That’s not meant in a condescending way, you just sort of take his moods and whims and manic focus shifts in stride. It brushes right off your back and you even partake when the moment lines up right. You’re a good lab partner, a better gaming buddy, and he finds himself mentally storing some of his old favorites series’ just to see what you’d be into.

In return, you’re being given a side of Idia most people don’t really get to see. The surprising sarcastic streak that he’s usually too jumpy to let out around people IRL. The genuine care and concern he has for his brother and his own private ways of taking care of the people in his extremely exclusive circle. Even the rare mischievous impulse, the desire to set up dominos and watch them fall in a perfectly executed order. He doesn’t so much come out of his shell as let you slip in through the cracks, but that’s alright. It’s warm, welcoming even, in the confines of the shell, and maybe not so bad with another face around here.

The feelings launch their surprise attack very suddenly. You pass out on him during a marathon gaming/study session (he games, you study). Normally Idia hates sharing sleeping space, hates people who he can’t ask to leave. But instead of waking you up he just huffs and pushes back from his PC. Pulls the blanket over your shoulders, mutters to himself about you overdoing it on coursework again….and suddenly there’s a fleeting thought that he’d really like to kiss you and every higher cognitive process shuts the fuck down.

Like I said, the usual strategies aren’t gonna work. Not that he’s not gonna try. He will, all but vanishing on you over the next few days. But again: you know him too well at this point. Enough that you’re overall pretty comfortable inviting yourself into his room unannounced, and even if he shrieks at you to get out you’ll just shrug and try again next time you want to hang out. Ortho scolds him for being so rude out of nowhere and truth be told he doesn’t enjoy pushing you away. There’s no comfort in isolation, he’s just grouchy and mortified and wanting to talk to you even though you’re the literal root cause.

Why’d he have to go and ruin one of the few good things he has?

He tries pretty much everything before confession. Once evasion falls through, repression. Maybe he can just pretend like everything is normal until it actually becomes normal DO YOU HAVE TO SIT SO CLOSE AND DO YOU HAVE TO LAUGH LIKE THAT AND DO YOU HAVE TO-... Once repression falls through, well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he was sure you weren’t with anyone else? Not like he’d presume on your romantic life but maybe if you were both perpetually single. No, watching you through cameras feels creepy and weird.

There’s no walkthrough, no guide, and no code he can dive into to find answers. That’s what’s so terrifying about all of this, there are no basic structures he can attach himself to, and in the event of a single error he can’t simply undo. There’s just. You and him, and this yawning chasm of emotion in-between, and the fact that try as he might, he wants, wants you in his life, wants your smiles and attention and touch and all the things he’d convinced himself he was perfectly content without.

The confession is planned, surprisingly enough. Eventually even Idia can only put something off for so long, and at a certain point he gets more frustrated with the delay in progress than he is afraid of the potential outcomes. If he’s doing this, might as well go in with a plan, right? He  makes an event of it, stocking the watchlist with some lighter romantic fare in advance and finally getting a day where you were completely cleared of schedule. Even has Ortho post outside his door once it gets late so he doesn’t have the option of fleeing. And he just…can’t open his mouth. Can’t move. You realize you don’t think he’s inhaled in the past five minutes and ask what’s wrong.

The words rush out. Blurt out. Explode out. Ungraceful verb of choice. Either way the second there’s some light prodding suddenly you’re drowning under a small verbal barrage where instead of the light, casual script he’d written up for himself he’s instead describing his feelings like they’re some kind of sickness he comes down with. It’s almost hostile, at points, like you’ve done something horrible to him, but you also find yourself overwhelmed by a litany of your good qualities. Stuff you hadn’t even thought he’d noticed that he’s commenting on in a tone between dreamy wistfulness and infuriation.

Receiving it is gonna be tricky. Getting a word in edgewise at all is gonna be tricky. 

But again. When it comes to Idia, patience always pays~

Diasomnia 🐉🌹🧚‍♀️

Malleus Draconia: Truthfully canon has not given me a lot to add.

Crushing starts from curiosity with Malleus. He’s lived a long time, but in that time he hasn’t really experienced much of the romantic side of life. Beyond the fact that it’s hard to meet people hidden away in a castle, it never particularly interested him. It wasn’t necessarily something he was looking for when he met you on one of his many nighttime walks. You just..seemed intriguing. Unafraid of him (or at least, not more afraid than is reasonable for meeting any stranger in an NRC uniform), but not slavering all over him either. It’s a little thrilling to him, to be treated like any other stranger, even if you are a little too bold sometimes.

Malleus is a puzzle to deal with on your end. Whenever you talk to him you’re never quite sure if you’re being tested or not. You are, a little bit, but not in a worth assessment kind of way. He just wants to know how you’ll react, if you can rise to meet the riddles he puts in front of you, or if you can’t, what you’ll do with that frustration. He finds he’s never disappointed with your reactions, enjoys finding out the little shards of yourself that it reveals. Much to his surprise, he also finds a lot of novelty and enjoyment in the bits that you manage to pull out of him, the little truths that weren’t exactly secret but that hardly anyone would know about him.

The transition from platonic friend interest to romantic interest isn’t exactly a binary for Malleus. As one grows, so does the possibility of the other. He’s not particularly keyed into that transition and instead just mentally notes that he’s getting increasingly greedy with your attention. Can you blame him, really. He’s not exactly starving for reverence and fear, but companionship is much harder to come by.

Even once the feelings are identified for him as romantic (likely by Lilia, or possibly even Silver [never Sebek]), he’s in no rush. It’s not his nature. The feelings will come out when the time is right, or you’ll come to understand him without words. He’s perfectly fine with whatever comes first.

Don’t mistake that for passivity, however. Malleus is nothing if not petty, and as he’s increasingly discovering, when it comes to you he is most certainly the jealous type. There are so few people who have put in the effort to try to know him, who see beyond his capabilities and his homeland and his title. With something that rare, he’s certainly not willing to risk the chance of someone less worthy trying to trick you away. You find Malleus has a peculiar amount of insight into who you’re spending time with, especially if it’s someone he regards as hostile (cough Leona cough). He wouldn’t challenge them to their face, nothing so cruel. But campus suddenly finds him haunting the halls much more frequently, swooping into steal you away with that coy little smirk and a quiet word or two in your ear. His arm will slip around your waist, maybe even the occasional gift pressed into your palm as he steers you away.

The Briar Prince doesn’t need to flex….but he’s going to anyways.

Those little gestures are likely how you eventually piece together what he’s feeling. Alternatively, he’ll tell you himself when you finally ask him what’s going on. The way he says it is so matter of fact, like just another tidbit about gargoyles. Something so obvious and natural it doesn’t bear repeating. Even amidst the storm of your emotions in response, you can’t miss the challenge in his eyes.

Well? Will you surprise him once again?

Lilia Vanrouge: Like his master, Lilia is much older than he looks. Unlike Malleus, however, Lilia is much more experienced in affairs of the heart. He’s fallen in love a few times over the course of his long life. A variety of contexts, a variety of people. Every love is different, and he treasures his memories of each one as much as the knowledge that it could not last. While he may not be actively looking currently, as a matter of principle he doesn’t like to close him off to any potential experiences. Especially not one frequently so exquisite.

Lilia seeks out the unique, the different, the esoteric. As the first magicless student at NRC, appearing under mysterious circumstances, you didn’t exactly have to work hard for your mystique. Your dedication and your ability to adapt in the face of extraordinary circumstances was another point in your favor, Lilia likes people who are able to work with the tools they’re given. The rest is a gentle fall forward, as he begins to absorb other things about you worthy of admiration. Your gifts, your kindness, your sense of humor, whatever it is about you that defines you. He commits it to memory, becomes determined to understand it in more depth each day. Before he knows it, he finds that old familiar rush stirring deep within him.

Because of his long life and varied experiences, Lilia tends not to rush things. For as exciting as the thrill of the initial fall is, rushing out to spill your guts seems a little much. Not to mention, it’s much less fun than a little patience can provide him with. He said he wanted to learn you, and that’s exactly what he does. He learns you, learns what you respond to, what you look for in partners, what kind of teasing makes you flustered and what makes you respond back in kind. There are no wrong answers, no discouragement, just the sheer, simple thrill of finding all the right buttons to press.

The only potential side effect is that Lilia’s tendencies to play with his food can sometimes get away from him. Let it carry on too far and it’s possible you’ll assume he’s only doing this for amusement. He doesn’t want that. The feelings, as patient and playful as they are, are genuine, and he doesn’t want them written off as another whim of his. Malleus, who knows his habits, is capable of bringing him back on track, but it does mean that the official confession waits a few more months than it technically has to.

He’s another one who makes an evening of his confession. He invites you back to the dorm to cook you a candlelight dinner (and fortunately for you Silver replaces all of it) and an evening of music. It concludes with a walk through the balconies and passageways of Diasomnia. He offers secrets about the place, which you eagerly accept. Lilia’s secrets are always worth knowing, even when he makes them up. 

And then, at the end of the walk, he beckons you forward and leans towards your ear to whisper the final secret of all.

Silver: The Captain of the Facepalm Brigade has entered the bridge, sir.

Full disclosure. You are not getting a confession out of Silver. Never in a million years. It’s not shyness, it’s not reticence, it’s not devotion to duty or any number of reasons that someone might withhold their affection from someone else.

It’s just that he doesn’t have the slightest clue.

He’s not insensible and he’s not unfeeling. It’s just that Silver is so used to understanding himself in relation to his father, and to Malleus, that it’s like there’s barely room for anything else. It’s not even a self-sacrifice thing. He just genuinely is not paying enough attention to his own internal state to understand that some kind of shifting is happening there. It complicates the crush because the person experiencing it is seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that that’s what they’re feeling.

Romantic attraction always stems from mutual respect with Silver, and the place you find his respect is through some form of skill demonstration. Swords are an obvious one. Hold your own against him, or at least put in an honest effort, and you’ll immediately be filed into his short list of people he likes. Any sort of skill can work, though; he tends to have an inherent respect for mastery of. Schoolwork, creative projects, music, riding, anything at all. Show your competence and he will make a note of you.

From there on out, the other ingredient is time. You’re around Diasomnia for one reason or another, making you one of the people in his daily circle. As such, that caretaking instinct he has towards his dormmates begins to extend to you. Unlike his dormmates, though, Silver doesn’t have years of interpersonal rapport with you. He has to come to understand you, learn more about you. Novelty is a bit of a consistent theme with the Diasomnia students. Briar Valley is a place that is slow to change, and anything new is worthy of notice and study. Silver may be less curiosity driven, but by virtue of the fact that you ARE something so new…he finds himself focusing more on his impressions of you, investing more thought in you than he’s used to directing at other people.

You’re a dependable person. You care for his family, and for him. What likely shot you up into the soft core of his heart was caretaking him during one of his sleepiness bouts, moving him away from anything hot and making sure he couldn’t damage himself or the things around him. For as embarrassing as he finds his condition, it reminds him so much of his family to have you effortlessly look out for him that he can’t help but want to do the same.

It’s a peculiar kind of attraction, sometimes really hard to distinguish as explicitly romantic. But Sebek and Lilia, for one, could maybe stand for him to not ask about you every twenty minutes. He worries for you when you’re gone, accidentally monopolizes your time when you’re there, and generally is a nuisance to himself and to others. It’s made both worse and more adorable by the confused look he gives anyone who reprimands him for it.

As I said. You’re not getting a confession out of him. Lilia could stand there with “you like them” tattooed on his forehead and Silver would go “of course father. As a dear friend.” You’re going to have to confront him yourself, maybe offer up your own confession. Once the possibility is broached you’re worried you misjudged the situation. He looks so confused.

And then a fresh novelty. Silver smiles. And you know you’ve arrived.

Sebek Zigvolt: Malleus Draconia Must Die.

Not seriously, of course. Just, how exactly did you manage to get that guy’s attention away from his master, unless his master is no longer in the equation?

You guess it could have something to do with your surprisingly frequent proximity. Sebek, for as seriously as he takes his studies, is a hassle for professors like Crewel to pair up. He doesn’t rate the abilities of humans particularly highly and it has a tendency to result in either a fistfight or Sebek doing all the work. You’re paired up with him a lot for group projects since you wouldn’t be able to complete the magic part anyways.

Despite the fact that his….Sebekness made things difficult at first, enough time does force him to pay attention to you. Limited as your abilities are, he’s forced to acknowledge hard work and adaptability when he sees it. With as literal as he can often be, any kind of adeptness with more artistic or less straightforward abilities is liable to draw out his admiration as well. Sebek may talk a lot of bluster, but he gives credit where its due, and becomes a firm advocate for your own abilities with surprising speed.

The other thing that’s surprising is that Sebek develops crushes relatively quickly. Runs in the family, perhaps; his mom was also something of a romantic. But that doesn’t make it easy. There’s an immediate shame there about anything that could direct his attention away from Malleus and his duties to Diasomnia. Moreover, you’re human. Someone like you could never belong standing alongside the fae, no matter how gifted.

Despite his determination for tragedy, he’s his own worst enemy. Sebek is nothing if not competitive when it comes to the attention of people he cares about, and his love language is DECIDEDLY acts of service. For as oddly moody and withdrawn as he’s being, you’re also noticing a very startling uptick in courtesy towards you. He’s always been prone to taking on the majority of the work but now he’ll barely let you lift a finger. Not just in class, either, he keeps pestering you about if anything needs fixing at Ramshackle, or if you’re having trouble with the homework, or if there was an errand you needed to run. Never mind if he’s also promised himself to anything Malleus could possibly want or need, he’ll just do it at the same time!! Don’t doubt the abilities of a servant of the young master!!!!

Speaking of, for as much as there’s nothing on heaven and earth that could make Sebek stray from Malleus’ side for too long, you find yourself seeing a lot more of him outside of class. He’ll swoop on your lunch table to check on you, ask after your evenings and all but invite himself over (he’s not pushy, just. Bad at social cues). Ace and Grim’s usual callous comments are almost immediately rebuffed by your new scary guard dog. Malleus contemplates sending you a thank you note for the unexpected bursts of privacy.

Between the overwork, the constant socializing and internal torment, Sebek’s absolutely miserable and doing a very bad job of hiding it. With every unasked for help and every loud praising comment and every blush every time you brush against him he withdraws more and more into himself until you’ve finally had enough and just confront him to his face. Hear the dramatic (and slightly insulting) sob story. 

Its…actually a little rude when you think about how much of this angst stems from his human hangups but, at the same time. You know the guy. You know how kind he can be, how supportive and passionate and even, yes, fun from time to time. For as confusing as this has all been, its also been kind of gratifying to have someone this attentive to your needs and this full of admiration and earnest affection for you. He’s getting in his own way right now, but a large part of you can’t help but wonder what it might look like if someone helped remove that obstruction.

No matter how you respond, you’re going to be hit up with a message from Lilia in the near future. You’ve deprived him of a WEALTH of free entertainment, and he’s expecting fair recompense in the form of juicy gossip~

[shihalyfie]

Wait wait, WHAT Ken hot take!? 👀

Okay, this is going to be one of my spicier takes here, so please go easy on me ^^ But yes, I do actually believe that the American English dub's take on Ken was arguably more accurate to his original Japanese characterization than the way a lot of the fanbase portrays him, even when they're going off the original Japanese version.

So for context, while the degree and nature of characterization changes in our dub varied from character to character, the part that was most consistently applied was that most of the characters got a lot more outspoken (in terms of criticizing things, speaking their mind, and being sassy or even outright dunking on things). Fundamentally speaking, this is an understandable concept due to cultural differences; anyone who doesn't really have a grasp of Japanese seniority or politeness culture might read the kids as extremely stiff if their dialogue was brought over unaltered.

The part where this posed problems was that our dub overdid it way too much at times, so the kids would just dunk on each other or get really condescending for no good reason, and that often caused quite a bit of damage to character arc integrity or the portrayal of character relationships (or pose issues for characters like Takeru or Hikari, where them not being entirely honest about their feelings is part of the point of their characters). But it's not a fundamental problem at its core to make the kids mouth off or banter a little more; I think Diablomon Strikes Back and Kizuna's dubs did a much better job pulling this off while still staying true to the characters, and I generally consider them my reference for how I'd have been perfectly fine with a lot of things the TV series dub was doing already if they'd only been executed a little differently.

Our Ken was voiced by Derek Stephen Prince, and I suspect they casted him more for “the Digimon Emperor" than they did "Ken". (This happened with a lot of 02 dubs, from what I hear -- the Kaiser having that drastic of a 180 is really that big of a plot twist, so I doubt very many casting directors had enough warning about that. Our Wormmon, voiced by Paul St. Peter, is also a bit too obviously casted and directed under the concept of "evil villain's minion" than the more "pitiful" character he ends up becoming, but he did do his best with what he had.) DSP is an incredible voice actor who adapted to the change very well; he's voiced an absolutely unreal number of completely different roles across the Digimon franchise, including even Veemon in 02, who sounds very distinct from Ken. But since his tone isn't as "soft" as Park Romi's, and because Ken got a certain degree of "sassiness" treatment like everyone else, it's easy to get the impression that our dub's Ken is much harsher while the Japanese version is a soft-spoken kid. That's probably how it seems on the surface, but...

Even in Japanese, even post-turn, Ken was never a saint or anything. Park Romi's delivery may have a bit of a soft timbre to it, but that doesn't preclude Ken from having some choice words or complaining about things when he feels like it -- at most, he's the kind of person who holds his words back until the right time. (In fact, if you look at their speech patterns, his is actually slightly rougher than Takeru's, and he is certainly more likely to be blunt or open about his feelings than Hikari, Takeru, or Iori.) And yes, it's true that our dub made him a lot more vocal, but it's well within the range of necessary localization procedure; his occasional formality would probably be seen as way more stiff in America than it would be in Japan (where he's closer to "well-behaved"), so this level of change is reasonable. There were definitely some hiccups in the first half when they went a little too hard on portraying the Kaiser as more of a composed villain genius rather than a pathetic eleven-year-old throwing a tantrum, but as far as his second-half characterization goes, the dub writers definitely seemed to understand that he was not in a position to harshly criticize or look down on the others when he was trying to patch things up with them, so he actually still comes off as one of the "nicest" kids in the group by virtue of not giving his dialogue the same degree of condescension the others often got.

The problem is, it's unfortunately very common in fandom (in Japanese and English, so this isn't a language-specific problem) to portray Park Romi's Ken as a saintlike doormat who, post-turn, is incapable of doing a single thing wrong, impeccably polite to a fault in all circumstances, and constantly pensive and sad about everything to the point he's completely reliant on other people to snap him out of it. And that's just not the case at all! Throughout the entire latter half of 02, Ken is consistently portrayed as resilient, oftentimes far more put-together and assertive than Daisuke, and still capable of being cold or fierce when the time calls for it (the Kaiser came from somewhere, after all). So even if you do take the dub changes making him ostensibly more aggressive into account, that's still more accurate to the original Japanese portrayal than completely flattening Ken into that kind of saintlike doormat. He chooses to be kind, but the operative word is chooses, and that nuance is present in both versions.

[usafphantom2]

U.S. Marines test JAGM-equipped AH-1Z Viper against ground targets

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 02/04/22 - 4:00 pm in Military

A U.S. Marine with VMX-1 arms a joint air-to-ground missile (JAGM) during an operational test at Yuma Marine Corps Air Station, Arizona, on December 6, 2021. (Photo: U.S. Marine Corps)

A U.S. Marine with VMX-1 arms a joint air-to-ground missile (JAGM) during an operational test at Yuma Marine Corps Air Station, Arizona, on December 6, 2021. (Photo: U.S. Marine Corps)

While the U.S. Marines of Maritime Operational Test and Evaluation Squadron 1 (VMX-1) continue to conduct operational tests of the joint air-to-Ground Missile (JAGM) being introduced into the AH-1Z Viper attack helicopter, they tested the missile against ground targets in the most recent evaluation.

The operational test and evaluation took place on December 6, 2021 at Yuma Marine Corps Air Station, Arizona.

The team observed the test of eight separate shots against armored and light armored vehicles in a variety of operational scenarios.

Ultimately, the collected data are analyzed ?? to determine the overall effectiveness of the system and refine the tactics, techniques and procedures for using this weapon in expeditionary advanced base operations, such as attack operations and approximate air support.

The December test against land targets followed the evaluation of missile effectiveness on maritime targets in November 2021 at Eglin Air Base, Florida.

Personnel from the Two One Air Test and Evaluation Squadron (HX-21), Naval Air Systems Command Direct Attack Program Office (PMA-242), Marine Corps H-1 Light Helicopter/Attack Program Office (PMA-276), U.S. Army Missile and Space Program Executive Office, as well as industry partners were on site to observe and analyze December test data.

The service said that the test can lead to significant improvements in the lethality of attack helicopters, arming them with newer ammunition equipped with two sensor technologies and optimizing missile performance on ground targets.

"I am proud of all the work and professionalism demonstrated by the joint team that strives to achieve the main milestones of JAGM's initial operational test and evaluation," said VMX-1 Commander Colonel Byron Sullivan. “Analysts, coordinators and controllers meticulously dump all captured data so that this weapons system can bring the necessary firepower to the combatant.”

"Watching the joint team conducting the JAGM test is like observing a highly qualified professional football team with experienced offensive coordinators calling the right plays for an attack that perfectly performs game after game," said Major Thomas Hutson, head of the VMX-1 assault support department and member of the JAGM test team.

This test is part of a greater effort to upgrade the AH-1Z and UH-1Y aircraft, in alignment with the commander's vision of force modernization to maintain a competitive advantage against potential opponents.

Once on the field, JAGM will allow Viper pilots to engage targets that could not be engaged with the Hellfire missile. JAGM benefits from two new search engines that replicate and combine the capabilities of the laser-guided Hellfire Romeo missiles and radar-guided Longbow Hellfire missiles.

Tags: AH-1Z ViperHelicoptersJAGMUSMC - United States Marine Corps/U.S. Marine Corps

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several air events and operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work around the world of aviation.

Cavok Brasil - Digital Tchê Web Creation

[kikis-writing-world]

Love is Blind

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (her hair is described in that it is long enough to braid, and it is brushed by another character. Sorry if that alienates anyone)

Word Count: 8.4k

Rating/Warnings: Mentions of dead bodies and glossing over of canon-typical violence, injury leading to temporary blindness, talks of medical procedures (vague descriptions cause idk what I’m doing,) mentions of pregnancy (Whiskey talks about his dead wife) If I missed anything please let me know. It’s a long one and I tried to mark down anything that might need warning.

Summary: The mission was going perfectly until you were caught by a stupid trap, spraying some kind of toxin in your face. Now you’re (temporarily?) blinded and have to find out what that means for your future with Statesman.

The dust settled over the room as the chaos gave way to silence. You waited a beat, taking a deep breath before speaking out.

“Clear.” You spoke softly, knowing the message would be transmitted to your partner. Despite your confidence that you’d taken out the men on your side of the room, you kept your pistol firmly in your grasp.

“Clear.” The response came through your ear piece, the voice tinny in your ear. The bass tones were missing, but it was unmistakably Agent Whiskey’s southern drawl. You stood from your cover behind a large, leather sofa and surveyed the mess. Whiskey was standing behind the bar in the corner of the room doing the same.

“Nice work.” You nodded at him, noticing several bodies elegantly cleaved in half from his lasso.

“Same to you, ‘Rhett.” Whiskey returned the compliment, stepping around the bar. You glared at him for shortening your name - he knew you hated that - but you were stopped from responding as a third voice joined the conversation through your earpieces. “Intel puts the plates in a safe behind the painting. The landscape behind the desk” Ginger’s voice instructed from HQ, watching the scene through the micro-cameras you were both wearing: Whiskey’s in his bolo tie and yours on a broach on your vest.

You and Whiskey both turned to look at the large painting on the far side of the room. It, and the desk it sat behind, were riddled with bullet holes and other damage from the fray. It was still hanging askew on the wall. You crossed the room easily, stepping over the various bodies on the way. Whiskey let you take the lead, keeping a watch while you turned your back to the room.

The painting fell with a nudge from the barrel of your gun, revealing the safe tucked into the wall. A 10 digit keypad with a small screen kept it locked. You leaned in, making sure your broach was pointed at it. “Ginger?”

“Got it Amaretto. Analyzing.” You could picture the woman typing away, executing different commands as she analyzed the image you broadcast back to her computer. You knew she was using possible heat signatures, wear on the numbers, oil deposits, not to mention the tech you didn’t understand to crack the code. You could hear Whiskey shifting around the room behind you as you waited.

“7298,” Ginger instructed. You entered the code and the lock clicked, the door swinging ajar.

“Thanks, Ging.” You acknowledged before addressing Whiskey. “We’re in.”

“And?” He asked, looking over his shoulder at you, but keeping himself angled out into the room in case of trouble.

You pushed the safe’s door the rest of the way open seeing a large, black briefcase inside. If the intel was right, inside it would be counterfeiting plates. A small time counterfeiting ring had somehow paired up with a large terrorist ring, laundering the fake money into real profit to fund their plans. Taking down this ring would be a big, although likely temporary, hit to the terrorists.

You pulled the briefcase out of the safe, setting it onto the desk. There were no locks on the briefcase, just the latches keeping it closed. While that should have been suspicious, your excitement of completing the mission had you pushing forward. You unlatched and opened the lid.

Before you could see what was inside, something shot out of the case. You were sprayed in the face and neck with a cool, goopy liquid. You yelped in surprise, wiping frantically at your face to get it off. You stumbled backwards into the wall, falling onto your ass.

You heard Whiskey call for you the same time Ginger did through the earpiece. Whiskey was beside you quickly, pulling your hands away from your face by the wrists. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know.” You stuttered, feeling him wiping at your face and hands with some fabric. “I opened the case and it shot out at me.”

“Ginger?” Whiskey called out.

“I’m checking the footage now, running it through our databases.” The tech responded, voice level as always. “Keep a sample, but find some water to get it off her. I’m sure it’s some kind of safety measure.”

“Stay here.” Whiskey ordered before he left your side.

You nodded, trying to remain calm as the substance started to sting your eyes. You relayed that information back to Ginger.

“What else can you tell me about it, Amaretto?” She asked.

“It’s viscous. Like syrup.” You told her, feeling the slimy coating it still left on your skin after Whiskey had tried to wipe it away. “Cool to the touch. Smells like… flowers? Definitely floral.”

“Okay. That’s good. That’s helpful. Anything else, let me know. It will help us identify it quicker.”

Whiskey returned as Ginger spoke. You jumped at his sudden presence beside you.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. “Got the water and a cloth.” He narrated as to not spook you when the wet rag touched your skin.

“Flush out her eyes and get out of there.” Ginger instructed as your partner wiped your face clean. The cloth disappeared and Whiskey’s large hand was on the back of your head, leading you to lean over.

“I’ve got you. We just gotta wash out your eyes.” He kept talking, although you couldn’t quite tell if it was to keep you or himself calm. “Open.” He instructed.

You listened, opening your eyes and whimpering at how much it hurt to do so. The room seemed so much brighter than it had been before. You only had a moment to think on this before Whiskey was pouring the water into your eyes. You reached out for him, steadying yourself with your hands against his chest.

When the flow of water stopped, you told Ginger. “Light sensitivity. Add that to the list of symptoms.”

“Got it.” She responded. “Whiskey, grab that case and get to the jet.”

Your partner’s hands were on your arms, helping you to stand. He left you momentarily and you heard the briefcase snap closed. His arm wrapped around your waist as he led you away from the wall. You stumbled a few times over the bodies on the floor, but Whiskey did a good job of leading you. Any misstep you took or slight fumble, he never let you fall. You were lucky the two of you had dispatched everyone in the house before making it to the office. There was no one left alive to stop you as you left.

“It’s really starting to burn.” You told them, feeling tears falling from your eyes. The burning was also translating into a headache as the pain spread. It was getting harder to focus on Whiskey as he navigated the two of you out of the house.

“Stick with me, pick up your feet. I got ya.” Whiskey continued to instruct as you moved.

You knew you’d made it outside the second the sunlight hit your face. Even through closed eyelids, the light was too much to bear. You cried out in pain, shielding your eyes with your hands. You would have fallen to your knees if not for Whiskey’s firm grip on you.

“I can’t.” You cried, holding your head in your hands. “It’s too much.”

Whiskey cursed under his breath before you felt something slip atop your head and you were lifted off the ground. “Keep your head down,” Whiskey ordered, the vibrations of his voice moving through his chest against you. You could feel the bouncing of his footsteps as he ran. You removed your hands from your eyes to hold onto him, and you assumed you were wearing his hat by the way it kept the sun off your face. You buried your head into his neck to shield your eyes even more from the light.

“We’re almost there.” He promised as you trembled in his arms. 

When Whiskey had landed the jet earlier, it hadn’t seemed too far from the cabin - far enough to not alert them to your presence of course, but the trek there hadn’t seemed far. Now, it felt like he might as well be carrying you to Canada as the pain grew worse. You could hear Whiskey and Ginger talk, but it grew harder to hear them over your own groans of pain and the blood rushing through your ears. You were crying in earnest into Whiskey’s shoulder, fighting the urge to claw at your eyes.

You felt his gait change as he ascended the stairs into the jet. You could hear his voice but the words were lost on you as he set you down into a sitting position. Without him to grip onto, your hands flew to your eyes. Your arms were quickly restrained, making you yell and thrash. It was too bright. It hurt too much. The stinging was unbearable now.

You felt a single hand wrap around both wrists as you pleaded for him to let you go. You needed to do something to stop the pain.

You barely felt the pinprick to your neck. As it got harder to fight him, you realized he must have given you a sedative. He dropped your arms as your muscles grew sluggish and you felt him buckling you safely into the seat. You tried to mumble a thank you to him, but you couldn’t be sure if the words made it out of your brain as you lost consciousness.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your surroundings came to you slowly. The feel of the stiff cot under you, covered with scratchy linens. A few quiet beeps from different machines. The sensors attached to your chest and your arms - you must be in the medical wing back at Statesman HQ. It took you a moment to remember what had landed you in medical but once you did you were pleasantly surprised to not feel any pain. 

You couldn’t remember anything after stepping outside the cabin. The last vivid memory you had was the sun hitting your face and excruciating pain shooting through your head. Whiskey must have gotten the two of you back safely.

Your eyes fluttered open meeting a dark room. You were thankful for that, remembering how severe the light sensitivity had gotten. Introducing you to light slowly was a good idea.

“You’re awake.” The voice made you jump, even though you quickly recognized it to be Ginger. You didn’t expect her to be waiting in the dark for you. “How do you feel?”

You heard the heart rate sensor beep a little quicker as you clutched your chest from the scare, laughing softly. “You scared me. I feel okay, actually. No pain.”

“That’s great.” You could hear the relief in her voice. “And your vision?”

The question gave you pause, wondering how you were supposed to test your vision in the dark. “Turn the light on and I’ll tell you.”

“What?” Ginger’s voice was clipped, fallen from the relief it held moments ago. You weren’t sure exactly what the tone was but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Turn the lights on, Ging.”

“The lights are on.” She explained. You could hear the clicking of her footsteps and the rustling of her clothes as she moved closer. A hand on your right arm made you flinch.

“That’s not funny.” You scoffed.

“I’m not joking.” She replied seriously. She was silent for a moment, the faint rustling of fabric moving again before she asked “you don’t see that at all?”

“See what?”

“I’m shining a flashlight into your eyes.”

“No you’re not.”

“Ginger!” You heard Whiskey’s drawl, echoing like it was in a different room. Footsteps, heavier than the ones you had just heard, accompanied his voice as you figured he must be entering approaching your room. “She awake yet?”

“Whiskey, tell Ginger to stop joking around.” You begged, starting to freak out. The increased beeping beside you accompanied the anxiety you were feeling spread through your body.

“What’s going on?” The cowboy asked, worry coating his voice as it moved closer.

“She can’t see anything.” Ginger admitted, her hand leaving your arm. You heard Whiskey exhale to your left, a loud breath that sounded like he’d been punched in the solar plexus.

“Why not?” He demanded.

“I don’t know.” Ginger admitted. “We’re still analyzing the substance. So far all we know is it seems to be made from orange blossoms and some kind of berry-”

“It won’t be permanent, right?” You asked, cutting Ginger off. Your voice sounded so small compared to the other two in the room. There wasn’t an answer right away, footsteps approaching from the left before a large, warm hand covered yours.

“We’ll figure this out, sugar.” Whiskey told you as he laced his fingers with yours.

“We will.” Ginger confirmed. She sounded confident, and you knew she was nothing if not capable, but you still felt tears roll down your cheeks as the fear crashed over you.

You heard Whiskey tut beside you before he was brushing your tears away, his large palms cupping your cheeks as his thumbs brushed your skin.

“I’ll get to the lab. See if we’ve got anything new.” Ginger excused herself and you could hear her footsteps fade as she left the room.

As the two of you were left alone, you felt the cot shift underneath you as Whiskey sat down. He pulled you into a hug, letting you cry into his shoulder. She rocked you gently back and forth, telling you it was going to be okay. He let you cry until you felt numb, like there were no tears left. He didn’t move away until you lifted your head.

“I’d offer you my handkerchief, but it’s in the lab too.” Whiskey told you, voice light like he was trying to make you smile. He shifted away for a brief second, leaning back as you felt him press a scratchy fabric into your hand, which you quickly identified as a tissue. You used it to blot at your cheeks and nose.

You thanked him, your voice hoarse from crying. “Not just for this,” you waved the tissue in the air. “For getting us out of there.”

“It’s part of the gig, sugar.” It sounded like he was grinning when he spoke. You hoped he was. Even more, you hoped you’d see the grin for yourself again soon.

The next several days revolved around tests. Scans of your head and eyes, tests being done on the limited amount of the substance the lab had collected from Whiskey’s handkerchief and the briefcase. You didn’t even realize there were that many different tests they could perform, but everyday they brought you new results. Unfortunately, none of the results so far had led to any answers about why you’d lost your sight. As the lab identified more ingredients of the goo that had sprayed you, they tried different medicines and remedies but nothing had changed. They also told you how the substance had left you with a light rash on the skin of your face and hands where you’d been exposed. You were hardly worried about the rash. They said it was fading naturally. You wished your sight would return naturally too.

Between tests, you were hardly ever along. Whiskey visited you more often than not. Ginger spent a lot of time with you during tests as well as socially for meals. The team of doctors and junior agents working with her to help heal you all came and went. Tequila, Champ and other Statesman agents came by to check in on you when they could.

It was getting easier to identify who was coming as you started to hear differences in their footsteps. Whiskey had a long, slow gait, his boots slapping the floor with a dull thud. Tequila’s steps were quicker, and his boots snapped a little lighter against the floor. Champ’s steps were slower, like Whiskey’s, but there was an irregularity to the pattern. His left hip making him have the slightest limp that you had never noticed by sight alone. Ginger was easiest, being one of the few women who came to see you. Her steps clacked as her heels hit the floor.

You were also surprised to start noticing the different scents everyone held. Tequila, bless that boy, smelt obnoxiously like axe spray deodorant, reminding you of a high school boy’s gym class. Champ smelt of vanilla, cloves and the cigar smoke that clung to his clothes. Ginger smelt like clean linens, a hint of tropics in her detergent but seemed to be content staying largely scent-free, no perfumes that you could pick up on.

Whiskey’s smell was more complex, but maybe that was because he was the one who would sit next to you on the bed, giving you a chance to really breathe it in. Hints of spiced citrus hung to his clothes, along with the smell of leather and smoke - not smoke like Champ, but the kind from a freshly fired gun. When he got close enough, his musk had you remembering being cradled in his arms as he carried you away from the cabin, his hat atop your head.

You were thankful for the ways you were picking up to identify people. Your years as an agent had you trained to survey your surroundings, to avoid being caught off guard. It was unsettling to have your primary sense for that taken away from you. Most people were learning to announce themselves as they approached your room, giving you a heads up someone was nearing. Not everyone did. Tequila was particularly bad at it, and you suspected he enjoyed watching you jump.

You expressed your worries to Champ when he came to visit, on the fourth day of no progress. He chuckled and patted your back in a fatherly way.

“Let’s give them some time to figure this out, Amaretto. We don’t need to start plannin’ a retirement party just yet.”

You supposed he was trying to help you worry less, but it didn’t help. Would you have to retire if your vision wasn’t restored? You could hardly imagine a position at Statesman that you could easily navigate without sight. If you ever learned braille, and how to type, maybe some kind of administration or archival job, but who knew how long it would take you to master those skills. It was hard enough to accept what this meant for your career, let alone the rest of your life.

The agents that came to visit tried to help take your mind off of it, but it was hard when there was no true reprieve.

“Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged.

“You know, I’m startin’ to remember why I wasn’t so fond of this book in school.” Whiskey interrupted his recitation. “How Mr. Twain managed to turn the absolute boredom of paintin’ a fence into the written word with such lucidity is an artform in itself.”

“Oh stop,” you laughed, reaching beside you to swat at him. It was an easy thing to aim for, feeling the warmth of him on the bed next to you, his arm pressed to yours.

“I’m just sayin’ that I’ve had better adventures before breakfast than these so called adventures of Tom Sawyer.” He complained.

“Tom Sawyer wasn’t a senior agent of a secret spy organization.”

“And good thing too. He’d have burnt this place to the ground by now with his behaviour.” He harrumphed, making you laugh.

“Just keep reading.”

He sighed, a long, annoyed sigh.

“Please.” You sang, smiling up at him as you leaned into his arm. These were the moments you could really smell the spice and leather on him.

He was silent for a beat. Although the two of you were joking, you almost worried he wouldn’t keep reading. It was much harder to read people’s moods without seeing their facial expressions. No smile or eye roll to go by had you guessing by voice tone alone. Silences had you absolutely puzzled.

“Can’t, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an’ git dis water an’ not stop foolin’ roun’ wid anybody. She say she spec’ Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an’ so she tole me go ’long an’ ’tend to my own business—she ’lowed she’d ’tend to de whitewashin’.”

“Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That’s the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket—I won’t be gone only a a minute. She won’t ever know.”

“Oh, I dasn’t, Mars Tom. Ole missis she’d take an’ tar de head-

“I’d be able to follow a lot easier if you did different voices for the different characters.” You interrupted.

“Don’t push your luck.” He grumbled, but you were pretty sure you could hear that grin in his voice again as he kept reading.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Keep your eyes closed.” You were instructed by Tonic, a junior agent who worked under Ginger. You felt the dampened towel being lifted from your eyes. You’d just spent 40 minutes laying back, letting the medicinal solution on the towel soak in. You had done the same thing the day before, and would likely be doing it again tomorrow.

“Just dimming the lights. Hold on.” Tonic explained as you heard his shuffling footsteps through the room. It was a good thing he had a knack for medicine because he’d be an awful field agent with the way he never picked up his feet.

“Okay, open.”

You did as instructed, blinking as your eyes adjusted to being open again. Just like the day before, you only saw the familiar inky blackness.

“Nothing.” You shook your head.

“That’s okay.” You could hear the forced optimism in his voice. “Ginger said it could take up to five treatments for this to work. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You gave the poor kid the best smile you could muster, but you were definitely losing hope. It had been nearly a week now with no progress. It was getting time to face facts.

“Don’t worry, Agent Amaretto. We’ll figure it out.” The boy told you, a soft pat on your shoulder accompanying his attempt at comfort.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen Tonic around Statesman. You might have walked by in passing, but you were never introduced. It was weird to be spending this much time with someone and having no idea what they looked like. You were almost tempted to ask, but kept it to yourself. You'd have to get used to not knowing what new people looked like.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You shuffled out of the bathroom with your hand on the doorframe to help guide you. You had showered - your first true shower on your own, not just a quick wash-up in the sink or a sponge bath - and it made you feel slightly more human again. The robe was soft and plush against your skin, wearing only a tank top and underwear under it. The towel you had half-heartedly wrapped your hair in was falling out of the twist - you hadn’t quite mastered that skill without seeing yet.

You opened your mouth to dismiss the junior agent who had been tasked with waiting for you - sitting outside the washroom in case you needed to call for help - but you were interrupted.

“I sent her on her way, sugar.” You immediately recognized Whiskey’s twang. He was the best so far at announcing his presence, and you truly appreciated it. You still jumped slightly, not expecting him to be here. “Sorry.” He chuckled.

“I’ll get used to it eventually.” You waved off his apology, not actually knowing if you would ever get used to it.

“C’mon, none of that.” Whiskey tutted. Your uncertainty must have shown on your face. “Want a hand?”

“Yes, please.’ You confirmed, holding your arm out towards his voice. You heard him approach, footsteps and fabric, before he looped his arm around yours.

“Where to?” They had set up a table and chairs for you in the room, trying to make you feel more at home than in a hospital room. All it did was reaffirm that you weren’t any closer to finding a solution and that your stay was going to last even longer.

“The bed, please.”

He led you to the bed easily, not taking his arm away until you were sitting comfortably. You felt the towel fall even further off your head as you sat.

“Can you pass me the brush?” You asked him, holding your hand out.

You waited, hearing Whiskey move around, but instead you felt him pull your hair free from the towel. With your wet hair falling down your back, you felt him run the brush through it.

“What are you doing?” You chuckled.

“You just relax, sugar.” He ordered. He started at the ends of your hair, brushing the tangles out before moving closer to your scalp.

“I can brush my own hair.” You argued even though you were grinning.

“Just let me take care of you, Rhett.” He huffed, smacking you on the shoulder with the flat side of the brush.

“Fine, Whisk.” You huffed playfully in response, leaving him to brush your hair.

He was surprisingly gentle, only once did your hair pull painfully at your scalp to which he mumbled a quick apology. You hadn’t had someone brush your hair for you in a long time. Outside of a hairdresser, it probably hadn’t happened since you were a child. As much as you were trying to maintain your independence with your new loss of sight, it was very relaxing.

You hadn’t expected it when you felt him part your hair into sections and start weaving them together.

“Are you… braiding my hair?” You asked curiously.

“Yes, ma’am.” He hummed, clearly concentrated on his task.

“Okay, the brushing I could let go, but are you going to tell me how you know how to braid?” You laughed.

“I’ve made my own whips before, sugar.” He explained, his drawl even more pronounced as he spoke slowly, keeping his focus on the hair. “Part of that is just fancy bradin’.”

“You make your own whips?” That surprised you.

Whiskey chuckled, his fingers brushing lower and lower on your back as the braid progressed. “Not the ones I use on missions, but I have some at home I made. I’m not too up on the electricity part, but a good ol’ fashioned bullwhip? I can throw one of those together in a few days if I have the time.”

“So which came first? Using the whip or making them?”

“Been usin’ them since I was a boy, on the family farm. Started makin’ em ‘round the same time, maybe a few years between. Although those first ones were nothin’ to celebrate. I got better at it. Decent hobby to have, if you’ve got scraps of leather hanging around.”

You felt him end the braid as he spoke, tying an elastic around the end. You lifted your hand to your hair so you could feel the braid. It was surprisingly sturdy and didn’t feel like there were any messes of bumps.

“Thank you.” You turned, smiling in his direction.

He was silent as he pushed the braid over one shoulder, his fingertips grazing your neck as he did. The sensation left goosebumps on your still-damp skin.

“I also used to braid my wife’s hair.” He admitted quietly. “Especially when she wasn’t feelin’ well. Braided it up to keep it out of her face.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You knew a bit about Whiskey’s past, about his high school sweetheart and that she’d died, but it was hardly ever discussed between the two of you. Before you came up with something to say, he continued.

“When we found out she was expectin’,” he grunted as you felt the mattress dip. You scooted over to make room for him to sit. “I was braidin’ her hair all the time. For one, the mornin’ sickness that first trimester, hoo-” he chuckled softly, lost in the memory. “It really kicked her ass. Spent most her time huggin’ a bucket or praying to the porcelain gods. But before we found out she was carryin’ a boy, she wanted me to practice. ‘Case we had a little girl.”

You bit your lip, reaching in Whiskey’s direction. You wanted nothing more than to take his hand in yours, but you fumbled in the air clumsily. He brought his hand up to yours, letting you grip it tightly.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Thank you, sugar.” He answered back. “Was another life. Wasn’t meant for me, I guess.”

You gave his hand another squeeze, really wishing you knew what to say. Something to make the pains of his past a little… less. His hand stayed in yours, but you heard something rustling off to the side.

“What are we readin’ tonight? We’ve still got some of Tom Sawyer’s adventures to go through, or we can start Pride and Prejudice.”

You leaned back, getting comfortable in the bed. “Tom Sawyer. Besides, you can’t tell me you actually want to read Pride and Prejudice.” You grinned, letting him change the subject.

“I could be persuaded, but if the lady requests Tom Sawyer…” He trailed off, likely picking up the book based on what you heard. He got settled in beside you and you heard the pages turning as he found where the two of you had left off. As he read, his hand stayed firmly in yours.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“Lean back.” Ginger instructed. You did so, keeping a firm grip on the arms of the chair to keep your equilibrium. They had uncovered a new piece of whatever had attacked you, leading them to coming up with another possible cure. Ginger had explained this to you as she prepared you for the eyedrops. You were glad they were eyedrops this time because last time it had been a gel. Even without your sight, the feeling of gel in your eyes was incredibly unpleasant. That being said, you’d do it everyday for the rest of your life if it meant you could see again.

“Ready?” She asked, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“Mhmm.” You held your eyes open as much as you could, waiting for the liquid to hit them. If you thought eyedrops were bad before, they were worse now that you couldn’t see them coming.

The first drop hit your eye, making you jump despite being ready for it. You felt one more drop in the left eye before she moved to your right.

The cooling effect was almost immediate, the strange tingling making your eyes water. You fought against blinking until Ginger gave you the go ahead. You kept your head tilted until a tissue was pressed into your hand.

You leaned back upwards, wiping the residual drops from your cheeks. There were tears too, your eyes watering from the sensation.

“How does it feel?” Ginger asked as you heard her click a pen.

“Tingly.” You told her. “It feels like minty, maybe? Like chewing mint gum with my eyes. Or menthol.” You tried to explain. You heard her scribble something down as she hummed in response.

“Let me know if anything changes. It could take up to an hour to work.” She explained.

You blinked continuously, having no choice as the reflex tried to deal with the feeling in your eyes. It wasn’t unpleasant or painful, just very foreign.

Ginger ate lunch with you while you waited for something to happen, but nothing did. You swallowed down your thoughts of ‘I told you so,’ instead agreeing with her that maybe the next thing would work.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

“We gotta start making plans, Champ.” You told him plainly, hands clasped in your lap. “I can’t stay here forever.”

“‘Course not!” The man agreed with gusto. “Forever is out of the question.”

You sighed, knowing he was deflecting. “Nothing is working yet.”

“Somethin’ will.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“What if it does?”

“Agent Champagne-”

“You sound like my wife.” He snarked.

“Your wife calls you Agent Champagne?” You asked with a smirk. You couldn’t resist taking that bait.

“A gentleman wouldn’t kiss and tell.” He joked, but it did little to lighten your mood. “But what I mean is the tone of voice. That’s the voice she uses when she thinks I’m being as dumb as a bag o’ hammers.”

You wouldn’t have quite put it that way, but you did think Champ was avoiding dealing with the situation at hand.

“So I’m gonna tell you what I tell her when she starts usin’ that particular tone of voice.” He took a pause and you waited for him to continue. “Trust me.”

You sighed, dropping your head. “I trust you, Champ.”

“Then why are we havin’ this conversation? Is it Ginger and her team? Do you not trust Ginger?”

“Of course I do-”

“You don’t trust Statesman or Statesman technology or medicine?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Then you stop worrying ‘bout what we’re gonna do with you, and focus on gettin’ better.” He instructed, his tone firm. His accent grew thicker as he went on. “I won’t hear anymore about plannin’ nothin’ ‘cause you’re going to get back out there, Agent Amaretto. This piss poor attitude ain’t helpin’ nothin’! If we thought this was a lost cause, we’d tell you. You’d get a gold watch and we’d set you up with a good pension and probably a little desk job at some library somewhere to keep you busy, but that’s not in the cards for you.”

You couldn’t help but tear up as Champ went on. You weren’t even totally sure why. You felt so alone, like no one was hearing your concerns - but at the same time, it sounded like Champ had been thinking about possibilities. A librarian? You didn’t want to end up a librarian. You almost wanted to go back to not talking about the future.

“You, missy, are a Statesman Senior Agent. Now, I’ve already got Tequila climbing up the walls and causin’ trouble, I can’t be worryin’ about herding two cats. Suck up that booboo lip and act like the Agent you are. Understood?”

“Yessir.” You mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you, Agent Amaretto.”

“Yessir.” You repeated, louder this time.

“Good.” You could hear the finality in his voice before the ice in his drink clinked together as he took a sip. “‘Cause if that didn’t work… well, the next tactic I use on the Missus is a little inappropriate to try with you, Agent. No offense.”

Now that did get a laugh out of you.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The podcast played from the speaker beside you, but you were only half listening to it. You were thinking of taking a nap, more out of boredom and lack of anything better to do than tiredness, when you heard familiar heavy footsteps approaching your room. You couldn’t help that it lifted your spirits to know Whiskey was on his way.

“‘Rhett.” He greeted, that signature tone in his voice letting you know he was grinning.

“Whisk.” You responded with a sigh. “You know, if anyone else called me that, I might have to kill them.”

“Not interrupting, am I?” He ignored your warning, stepping into your room.

“No. Wasn’t really listening to this anyway.” You told him. You turned your head in the direction of the speaker and asked it to stop. The room fell into silence as you sat up on the cot.

“That better not have been a book on tape.” He warned.

“Now why would I listen to one of those when I have a real life book on tape at my beck and call.” You smirked.

“Walkin’ talkin’ book on tape, huh? If that’s all I am to you, I think I might just take this present back home with me then.”

“Wait!” You stopped him, hearing his feet retreating back towards the door. “You didn’t say you had a present.”

“Thought that might change your tune.” He chuckled.

You scooted to the side of the cot, patting the mattress beside you. It only took him a second to sit next to you, that familiar spiced citrus and leather scent taking over your senses.

“Hands out.” He instructed. You held your hands in front of you, waiting impatiently for them to be filled. He placed the gift in your hands, but you had no idea what it was yet.

It was circular, but it seemed to vary in width - no, it wasn’t circular, it was just looped. You ran your hand over it, feeling the smooth pattern adorning it.

“What is it?” You asked, finding the end of it - a strong, heavy piece, the texture similar to the rest of it, although the pattern was different. The very end came to a bulbous tip.

“That’s a bonafide, one of a kind, handmade by yours truly, bullwhip.” He explained, taking your hand in his and wrapping it around the handle to hold it properly.

“For real?” You smiled, feeling what you now knew to be leather under your fingers.

“For real.” He chuckled.

You tested the weight of the handle, feeling the drag as the rest of the whip pulled against the sheets. Your fingers ran over the design, following the lines of the handle carefully woven and etched throughout. You regripped the handle and ran your other hand over the tail of the whip, pulling your hands apart to get a feel for how long it was.

“What does it look like?” You asked, leaning into him.

“It’s brown. Medium brown, the colour of gingerbread, maybe. Right along here,” he took your hand holding the handle and guided you in tracing the designs. “It’s stained red, just to make it pop. Not blood red, just tinged red with the stain. Gives it some detail, you know?”

“What else?” You asked, feeling breathless as he helped you to see the details with your hands.

“Well you can probably guess it’s made of leather.” You nodded. “But it’s actually made of kangaroo leather.

“Kangaroo?” You asked in shock. “Where’d a farm boy get kangaroo leather?”

You felt Whiskey’s laugh against your side. “I made this one a year or so ago. Just so turns out that kangaroo hide is one of the strongest in the world and well, when you have a hobby that requires leather, you start gettin’ creative with what kind of leather you’re usin’. Gotta keep it excitin’.”

“You don’t get enough excitement at your day job?” You teased.

“Nah, I’ve got this great partner who always has my back.” His voice made you shiver, despite the fact that his comment had your face heating up. He was leaning heavily against you now, his breath fanning over your cheek.

You swallowed the lump that had appeared in your throat, finding your voice to ask him to tell you more.

“About my partner? She’s a great gal. I’m sure I’d be dead twice over if she wasn’t there to pull my ass outta trouble. She’s a great shot, and there ain’t nothin’ sexier than a woman who can handle a pistol.”

His hand was on your opposite cheek, turning you to face him. The gentle touch made your breath stutter in your throat. 

“She’s got this amazing smile that can make a mark fall in love from 40 paces, and it can light up a room from even farther.” He continued, the breath from his voice dancing across your face. His breath smelt like the spiced Whiskey he was named for, and a slight hint of cherries.

“She deserves better than me for her partner, that’s for damn sure. A broken man with a messy past who’s been too scared to tell her how special she is. I thought it was best to keep it professional, but I don’t know if I can anymore.” His nose brushed against yours. You gasped softly at how close he was.

“She’s always in danger, we both are, but once she was in danger I couldn’t help her out of… that made me realize how important she is. If she’ll let me though,” he whispered. You could feel his lips brush against yours as he spoke, his mustache tickling your upper lip.. “I’d like to spend all my time makin’ that up to her.”

“Jack-” Your whisper was cut off as he pressed his lips to yours gently. It was so gentle, almost hesitant. The man was such a loud, boisterous personality and this kiss was so contrary to that. 

You dropped the whip, bringing your hand up to rest on his hand on your cheek. You followed his arm past his shoulder and up his neck to tangle in his hair. You felt his breath hitch from the light tug on the strands.

“I’m gonna stick by her side,” he muttered, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “No matter what happens. I’m gonna do everything I can to help you.”

You pulled him into another kiss, tilting your head to slot your lips together. He hummed softly into the kiss, brushing your cheek lightly with his thumb. His other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, like he was scared you would disappear. You nipped his bottom lip, trying to reassure him you weren’t going anywhere.

He hissed softly at the sensation and your tongue darted out to soothe the skin. His own tongue met yours, his moan at the contact matching your sigh.

He pulled back and you chased his lips. You were stopped as his nose brushed against yours, his shaky breath flitting across your face.

“Say it again.” He requested, so quietly you almost didn’t even hear.

“Say what?”  You hummed, distracted by his nuzzling and the strong urge to have his lips against yours again.

“My name, sugar.” He was close enough that you could feel his cheek flex with a lopsided grin. “I ain’t ever heard you call me by name before now.”

You smiled in return, biting your lip. It was true. You’d called him Whiskey most of the time. Agent Whiksey when you were being formal. Whisk when he annoyed you. Numerous different names while undercover…

“Kiss me, Jack.”

He growled, low and deep in his chest, before he obliged. Now this was the kiss you expected from Whi- from Jack Daniels. His tongue, pressing past the seam of your lips. It felt like he was marking his territory, all you could do was let him. He swallowed your moans as you matched his hunger. He kissed you with passion, both experienced and unrefined. Unbridled. He kissed you breathless, until you had no choice but to part.

You pulled back, panting softly as you leaned your forehead against his. You wished you could see him. See if he was just as affected by the kiss as you were.

You slid your hand from his hair to his cheek. His skin was warm, you could almost imagine it tinged pink, flushed from being so breathless. You continued exploring, finding his mustache next. The coarse hair felt askew, likely mussed from kissing and not the neat, groomed thing you were used to. You felt the uptick of his lips in that signature grin, and you couldn’t help but feel those too. They were warm and moist. You wondered if they were swollen, like yours felt.

Jack held your hand still, kissing each finger tip one at a time. The tickle of his mustache made you giggle.

“I mean it, sugar.” You could feel his lips move against your fingertips, his voice vibrating through your hand. “I’m here with you. Whether they figure this out or not. We’ll get through it.”

It was the first time someone other than yourself acknowledged that your sight may never return. It didn’t bring about the hollow defeat you’d been feeling anytime you thought of being blind the rest of your life. It finally felt like you had someone in your corner. Of course it would be Jack. He’d had your back for years, working together in the field. You should have known it would be him, in the end.

“Thank you.” You dropped your hand from his face to wrap both arms around him, hugging him as you rested your head against his chest.

You felt him press a kiss against your forehead before he pulled you to lay down. He held you, cradled into his side as you burrowed your face into his neck. You heard something fall, probably the whip that had been forgotten on the sheets.

“Oops.” You winced, not having meant to be so careless with his gift. You moved to sit up, wanting to pick it up, but he held you firm.

“Leave it there,” he instructed. You relished the way his deep voice vibrated against you. “It ain’t gonna fall any further.”

“I don’t want something to happen to it.”

“If it does, I'll make you a hundred more.” He promised.

“Fine.” You ceded, snuggling back into him with a deep inhale. Leather and spice.

The arm that was draped over your waist left your side. You felt his muscles move under his shirt as he stretched out. It only took a minute before the released, relaxing again. You heard the fluttering of paper before he started to read.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. 

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The pressure from the device around your head was unpleasant, but not unbearable. The way it pressed down on your eyes made you want to squirm. Instead, you squeezed frantically at the stress ball Ginger had offered you before you’d been strapped in. You knew Whiskey was standing with her as she ran the test, but you wished he could be here. You’d take his hand in yours over the foam smiley face any day.

“Almost done, Amaretto.” Ginger’s voice echoed through the speaker, barely audible over the hum of the awful machine.

“You’ve got this, sugar.”

“Whiskey, don’t tou-”

“-tell me not to-”

“-my lab, my buttons-”

“-OW!”

The bickering coming through the speakers was almost enough to make you laugh. The clicking of the microphone engaging and disengaging had you picturing the two fighting over whatever button turned the feed on. The two had spent hours bickering the past two weeks, Jack becoming increasingly more involved in your treatment as the two of you shifted from partners to...  well, there was no set term put on it yet, but you were very fond of kissing him. You couldn’t quite imagine the cowboy in the other room being called a boyfriend. It felt very middle school.

It was another few minutes of the machine humming, pressing awkwardly against you, until Ginger finally announced you were done. You heard the door between you and them open, two sets of footsteps approaching. One set of hands started to release the device from your head, while the other took the stress ball away. It was replaced with a large, warm hand that lifted yours until a kiss was pressed to your knuckles. The mustache prickled against your skin.

“Okay, you can sit up. Go slow, though.” Ginger instructed once you were free. You did, feeling your head swim.

“How’re you feeling?” Jack asked.

“Light headed.” You answered honestly, waiting for the feeling to pass. You leaned into Jack, letting him support you through the dizziness.

“Almost done.” He cooed, petting your braided hair. “We’ll get you back to your room soon.”

You heard Ginger moving around the room before she came to a stop in front of you. There was silence for a beat.

“Any change?” She asked.

You blinked a few times, but there was nothing. “No.”

You sighed, letting your shoulders slump with defeat, but Jack stayed strong next to you.

“That’s okay.” He hummed, not letting on any disappointment he might be feeling. He never tried to dictate how you should feel about your condition, but he stayed strong for you throughout. It was still so hard to deal with that you may never see again, but he made it a little easier. “Let’s get you back to your room. I for one am dyin’ to know what happens to Elizabeth next.”

You scoffed as he helped you to stand. “Sure you are.” His hands held you steady until you found your footing, his arm wrapping around you to guide you out of the lab.

“I am.” He argued. “I’m invested in it now.”

“Oh, well I guess I didn’t need to ask Champ to track down some Louis L’Amour books.”

“To hell with Elizabeth.” Jack declared, making you laugh.

You roused slowly. It took you a moment to realize you had fallen asleep while Jack read. The last thing you remember in the story was the caravan was going to be attacked. You wondered how long Jack had read for before realizing you’d fallen asleep. You were pressed tightly to his side, you could feel his warm body next to you. His head was leaning against yours, his deep breaths tickling your ear. He let out the tiniest snores anytime he exhaled. It made you smile.

“Jack, wake up.” You hummed, pressing a kiss to his neck. He hummed in response but didn’t fully wake. You called his name again, nuzzling into him.

Your name left his lips in a soft moan as he told you to go back to sleep.

“You’re going to have an awful kink in your neck if you keep sleeping like that. Come on.” You argued quietly, poking him lightly in his side as you sat up.

“Alright,” he groaned. You felt his body stretch out beside yours before he too sat up. You felt something hit your leg and you instinctively opened your eyes to see what it was.

You saw the book had fallen off Jack’s lap-

You saw.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @driedgreentomatoes​

A/N: The books that are mentioned being read by Whiksey are The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and The Walking Drum by Louis L’Amour

[angelic-kisses13]

Claiming Part II

Authors Note: I’m sorry it took so long to write this! But I’m glad that I finally got it out to you guys! Happy Valentines Day everyone! 

Summary: Charles and his sacrifice finally arrive at his castle. 

Claiming Part I 

A few hours later, and they had arrived back to King Charles’ kingdom, the palace was even grander than King Indulf’s. It seemed to tower above the clouds, and he watched as her features went from hostile to pure awe. Her hands made quick work of the window, and she poked her head out, trying to see every detail of the kingdom from her vantage point. 

He smiled indulgently. Yes, he had made the right decision. She was going to make the perfect sacrifice. “Little lamb,” He reached out and grabbed her waist, his hands spanning across her curves and full stomach easily. He brought her down to his side, “You will be able to see it better when we are closer.”

His sacrifice pouted, and he rolled his eyes as he reached out to shut the carriage window. “Don’t pout, now. It’s unbecoming.” She snorted and turned her body to face away from him. They continued to ride in silence, the carriage rocking from side to side as they turned bends and ran over loose bricks in the road. 

“Why haven’t you sucked me dry yet? Isn’t that the point of a human sacrifice? To become your food source?” 

His head tilted to the left in amusement. Charles forgot that the poor human wasn’t coached on what being a sacrifice entailed. He would have fun with this one. Something told him she wouldn’t take kindly to the future proceedings. 

“You are adorable Little Lamb. You will be a perfect sacrifice for my people. A few more hours and I will give you what your heart desires.” 

She scoffed and turned her head from him. Her pulse was hammering in her delicate neck. The rapid blood flow causes his fangs to ache. He knew she could feel his gaze on her, yet she stayed turned away. She was effectively cutting off the conversation. Charles should feel annoyed at the blatant act of disrespect. His little human, however, managed to chip away at his walls and self-control slowly. 

Soft but firm words had Charles’ spine-tingling, and he blinked as they echoed around them. “I do not desire to have you drink from me, ‘Your Majesty.’” The venom laced tone had Charles’ spine-tingling, and his beast was prowling in a possessive manner. Charles was taken aback at the level of possession he felt growing in him. 

“Not yet.” The words were spoken to remind himself not to reach out and claim her. There were rules and procedures in place, yet her blood and fiesty nature had him cracking around the edges—his once cool and collected demeanor nothing more but a crumbling avalanche of stone. 

It appeared that she had taken the words as a challenge. Charles was momentarily distracted by the sight of her head snapping around quickly; he was surprised she hadn’t broken her neck at the movement. Her eyes were wide, and the passionate flame he had noticed in the courtyard and throne room was resurfacing. He needed to placate her before he had her trying to claw her way out of the carriage. 

That was when his eyes fell on her busted lip and swollen cheek. He would have to heal that before the ceremony commenced. Charles’ finger itched to reach out and soothe the pain. He thought better of it, though, and curled his fingers into a fist. “How is your cheek faring?” 

She blinked before her hand rose and softly brushed across the swollen flesh. “It has been better.” The words were lispy, but it wasn’t to the point where he couldn’t understand her. 

“Once we get to the Castle, I can find some comfrey to help the swell.” Charles was confused when he saw her body tense. 

Her eyes were guarded as she stared at him. “I don’t have anything to offer you in thanks.” 

Ah, so that was what had her so tense. The poor lamb probably never had anything nice given to her without numerous conditions. Charles waved his hand, dismissing her words, “I do it because we need you in mint condition. A sacrifice is not very fun to play with if they are not in good health.” 

Her eyebrows wrinkled, the lines on her dirtied forehead more prominent with that gesture. “I hardly see how a bruised cheek and busted lip would make me unable to play the part.” 

Charles hummed as he reclined in his seat, his blue eyes taking her in. “Vampires pride themselves on perfection. Anything less is beneath us. I will not have our first sacrifice -in many centuries- look like she was in a brawl.” 

The woman sniffed before turning away, her body hunching in on itself. It seemed that the closer they got to the castle, the more she lost her spirit. Interesting. 

“You are scared.” 

Charles was amused by the scowl the girl shot him. 

“I’m not scared... just weary.” 

“You aren’t afraid to die?” 

The woman laughed, but there was no amusement in her tone. “I have been dead for many years, your majesty. Being a sacrifice just makes it more official.” 

Once again, the mortal had a way of surprising him. “You will be honored. You won’t be just a nameless lamb led to slaughter.” 

“I do not need to be honored. I have never been in my life and I don’t need to start now.” 

Charles didn’t have any words to offer the human, so they remained in silence as they pulled up in front of the castle. He tried to refrain from growling as he noticed several council members standing outside, waiting for his return. 

His little human frowned as she took in the sight. “Are they here for you or me?” Her fingers were clenched together, her thumb rubbing vicious circles into the flesh between her thumb and forefinger. 

“I believe it’s a bit of both, little one.” Charles composed himself, his cold mask falling into place. Once the carriage came to a stop, he waited until the footmen came down and opened it for him. 

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. His little human was shifting in her seat. He breathed deeply and caught the swift scent of fear. Usually, it would have been a sensual scent. Fear always made the blood taste better. But she didn’t have a reason to be scared. Anger grew in his chest; what was she fearing? Was it him? Was it the situation she had found herself in? 

His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes before stepping down and holding his hand out for her to take. He could hear the counsel members murmur amongst themselves. Their delight at having the human here was palpable. Charles wasn’t going to have a moment’s peace until the ritual was completed. 

Charles heard several gasps from behind him, and his lips twitched when his little lamb knocked his hand out of the way and climbed down herself. Standing in the light of the torches, her form was more pronounced, the dirt covering her skin was smudged, and her lip and cheek made her features a lump of swollen flesh. Easy to say, she wasn’t much to look at. 

Before his counselors could speak out about her, Charles began moving towards the Castle doors. A gentle tug with his mind and the oversized doors opened on their own. He heard a startled squeak sound behind him, but he paid it little mind. “Come along, little lamb. We must get you situated so we can discuss the ceremony.” 

“Why do you call me that. I am a person; I do have a name.” She snapped as she struggled to keep pace with his long stride. 

Amusement bubbled up in his chest, and he struggled not to let his counselors know how much the little human was affecting him. She was something else, an enigma that he would never tire of trying to figure out. If the ceremony went well then, he would have the rest of eternity to spend with her. 

“Are you going to share it with me or leave me in suspense?” He teased as he slowed his stride down enough for her to catch up. He was momentarily startled when he felt a hand wrap around his arm and a warm body press against him. 

He raised an eyebrow as he took in the marveled awe written across her face. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the tapestries and portraits that lined the stone walls. It appeared she hadn’t been listening to his question, so he let it drop. Her name wasn’t necessary, not until the ceremony, and he was old fashioned. He preferred to voice her name at the altar than in the ever-watchful halls.

“Sire, the room is this way.” One of his followers called out as Charles continued past the corridor his little lamb would be staying in and instead headed towards the infirmary. 

“I’m quite aware, Andrews. Why don’t you and the others go and see the ceremony preparations? We won’t be long. See that you send a couple of handmaidens to start a bath for my sacrifice as well.” 

Charles didn’t bother turning to see if his followers had heeded his words. He trusted the men to do what was asked and with little questions. He heard the soft rustle of clothes as the men turned and left. His little human jumped when she turned to see nothing but open air and a long empty corridor. 

“Oh heavens, that's not creepy.” She whispered to herself. 

______________________________________________________________

He stood in front of her, his chest heaving, nostrils flared as he watched goosebumps appear on her skin. She was everything he had ever wanted, and she knew how to put him in his place when he needed it. 

She was also the only one who could ever make his heart thunder in his chest, and his hands shake with the effort from holding himself back. She was his for the taking. She had dressed in all his favorites, a dark red dress with gold lacing around the bodice and sleeves. At her neck sat a cascade of teardrop emeralds. It highlighted her collarbone and pulse perfectly. With each thud of her heart, the necklace would pulse with it. 

It was enough to have his mouth-watering; her blood was calling to him, begging for him to claim it as his own. 

Claim her. 

His mind shouted as he wrestled with his self-control. It wouldn’t do good to scare her away. He needed to execute this perfectly. 

He took a deep breath as he watched her move around the room, her skirt rustling against the stone floor. Her fingers ran along the spines of the books, her eyes flitting from one place to another. She was comfortable in his presence, her peaceful continence allowing his inner beast to relax. 

“You’re very calm about this situation.” His voice floated across the room. He watched as her body stiffened at the sound—fingers stilling as she took in his words. 

“Will you treat me the way that the villagers did?” The question was innocent enough if he didn’t know the whole story behind her words. 

“I will treat you infinitely better. You are my mate, the necklace around your neck, and the ring on your left-hand claims you as such.”

“But there is more, is there not?” 

He waited until she was facing him before he spoke. “There are several things that have to happen to finish the ritual.” 

Her eyes flickered at his words, but she stepped forward, her hands clasping in front of her. “What do you need me to do?” 

A swirl of pride ran through his body, and his beast purred in delight. His mate was willing to do the impossible, and he would treasure and value her above all else. She was his. 

“You need to transform before we can move on. Once that is done, we will proceed with the claiming ritual.” His words were matter-of-fact but held a depth of concern for the young woman. 

“What does the transformation entail, exactly?” 

“You and I have to exchange blood; once the blood is shared, your body will begin to change. It will be painful for a few hours, and your body will shut down—first the limbs, then the heart, and finally your brain. When you come back, you will be part of the Vampire realm. You will be my Queen and me, your King.” 

There was a long moment of silence, both standing in front of each other, gauging the other’s reaction.  

“You will not leave me to suffer alone?”

He stepped into her personal space, her scent invading his senses. His eyes closed for a few seconds as he acclimated himself to her. His hand lifted, and he finally allowed himself to touch her skin since the exchange of vows. It was rough beneath his fingertips; the weather had not been kind to her. 

Up close he could see the chapped lips and red circling her eyes, attesting to her long nights without sleep. He swiped his thumb across her cheek, relishing in the feeling of the blood rushing through her body. He watched enraptured as her pupils dilated and her pulse fluttered beneath his caress. His eyes were drawn to her lush mouth as her breath stuttered. 

“I will be by your side the whole time. I will never leave you to suffer, I promise.” 

Her eyes shifted to meet his, and he caught just a glimpse of fear before she shut her eyes, trying to hide from him. “I’m ready.” 

He nodded his head before stepping away from her. Turning, he walked over to a goblet on the table, a small dagger resting beside it. He grabbed the blade and reverently traced his fingers over the jeweled handle before opening his left palm. He held the dagger out to her with a flourish. She looked from the weapon and back to him. 

“You’re going to need to cut my palm for the ritual.” 

Her breath stuttered, but ever the fearless little lamb, she slowly shuffled over. Her hands shook as she took the dagger, her fingers clumsily holding the hilt. His lips twitched at the sight. Even with all the bravado out in the courtyard this morning, she was still a human that was terrified of becoming a vampire king’s sacrifice. 

“Are you okay?” Charle’s words were hushed. 

“I’m fine; just tell me where to cut.” 

He peered at her, gauging her reactions to her words. She was far from fine, but he wasn’t going to push just yet. Soon she wouldn’t be able to hide from him, and then he would figure everything out. But, in the meantime, he would continue. 

“You need to cut from the bottom of my left ring finger to the end of my palm. Once that’s done, you’re going to cut from between my index and middle finger down towards my pinky, it should make a symbol of a Cross once you’re finished.” 

Her eyes widened in alarm. “You will die if I carve a Cross into your palm!” 

Charles chuckled in amusement. This little lamb was going to be a fascinating fit for his life. “That’s a common misconception; the wound will never heal right, so it will scar, but that’s the point of the ritual. It is to show that I am claimed. Think of it as your claiming mark, little lamb.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Her lips fell into a deep scowl as she glared up at him through her lashes. His inner beast rumbled at the sight; she was breathtaking and all his. He couldn’t wait to claim her, have his blood running through her veins, his mark covering her body. 

“What would you rather me call you then? My little sacrifice?” 

“My Queen, will do just fine.” The amount of sass made Charles preen. She was his Queen, wasn’t she? The emerald ring on her finger attested to that, but to hear her claim herself as such was enough to make his cock twitch. 

Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grounding himself. He couldn’t lose control just yet, and her body was too weak to handle him right now. She needed to transform first. Soon. 

“Charles.” 

He was snapped back to himself when he heard his given name fall from her lips. The way her tongue weaved the syllables of his name was enough to ignite his blood to a boil. 

“You need to cut now; I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself back, little lamb.” 

With one last curious gaze, she swiftly sliced his palm open, the Cross taking effect immediately. Charles swallowed down the hiss as he clenched his hand into a fist and raised it over the goblet, the two of them watching as the black blood trickled down with soft plunks. 

It took them a couple of times to get enough blood into the goblet, but all too soon, it was time to add her blood to the mixture.

Taglist: @agniavateira @cavillanche @cavillunraveled @creepingfromthecorners @dreamwritesimagines @fangirlings-things @ficsandcatsandficsandcats @hlkwrites​ @hnryycvll @honeydulcewrites @iloveyouyen @johnmotherfuckingfrusciante @keiva1000 @ladyreapermc @laketaj24 @littlefreya @ly--canthrope @mary-ann84 @mrsaugustwalker @ohvalleyofplentyyy @omgkatinka @sciapod @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @supersweetstache @thethirstyarchive @the-winter-witcher @thegreattodd @titty-teetee @tumblnewby @viking-raider @wednesdaybraids @wendimydarling @white-wolf-of-rivia @witcherwrites​

[giorno-plays-piano]

Come play with me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, home invasion, allusion to stalking and non-con.

Words: 1987.

Summary: Having to deal with Bucky Barnes, a talented head engineer who you have to convince cooperating with your boss, you suddenly discover his psychopathic tendencies. Worse, he has taken an eerie interest in you.

_______________________

“Listen, dear, I know what he asks for seems like something very inappropriate, but, in fact, the guy just likes you and-”

“No, Mr. Simons, he doesn’t just like me.” You snapped, bringing the cellphone closer your face. “This madman asked me to be at his disposal any time he wants. Please, don’t try to convince me it’s okay because this is madness.”

“I know, I know, he sounds like a psycho, but he’s not. Mr. Barnes is just... difficult. He needs to work on his communicational skills, he admitted it himself during our meeting today.” Your boss - or rather your ex-boss - was almost pleading you to listen to him, but you had enough of this nonsense. Nothing could change your mind after yesterday’s humiliating encounter with James Buchanan Barnes, the head engineer of HYDRA Corp.

“Sir, I have already submitted the resignation form. I perfectly understand the position you are in, but I’m not going to become a toy of this psychopatic man-child.” You answered firmly, looking at your lovely blue clock on the wall and knowing it was too late for any work calls. “Goodbye, Mr. Simons. Have a nice evening.”

Before he tried saying anything else to make you change your decision, you had turned your phone off and put it on your desk, sighing. You could never imagined one day you would face a situation like that.

Yes, when your boss got a promotion, you were truly happy for him. It also meant that you, his secretary, would now get a different type of tasks since you worked more like his personal assistant rather than someone who simply answered the phone calls and built his schedule. A raise was also quite nice. What you didn’t expect was having issues with Bucky, the genius the whole corporation knew about. He was that very same man HYDRA owed its success to as his innovative approach made the company widely known in the whole world for its - his - active protection systems. Barnes was now working on the brand new weapon system control, but he had never submitted sufficient reports, and, apparently, the previous executive left exactly because of Bucky and his wild temperament.

Despite the fact that he was a legendary figure, you had never met him or dealt with him directly. And since now Barnes became your boss’ pain, he became yours, too.

First, it was impossible to set a meeting with him directly. Mr. Simons wanted to take care of this issue himself and emailed Bucky multiple times, but always got the same dry answer that Barnes is too busy. Of course, he never answered any calls - until it was you calling him. Oddly, he was eager to talk to you. It took you just two calls to organize an online meeting for your boss, and, finally, yesterday you got to see the mysterious genius with your own eyes.

He was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t some skinny geek wearing glasses on his long nose, but a beefy man, his shoulders twice wider than your boss’. Barnes had dirty disheveled hair and a three-days beard, but, aside from that, he looked more like a star athlete rather than a nerdy engineer. He dressed in a pretty weird fashion, wearing tight t-shirts, leather pants, chains and heavy studded boots, but criticizing his style wasn’t a part of your job. You needed the reports he refused to submit and get him to attend the meetings.

Of course, he blamed everything on too many bureaucratic procedures and lack of time for anything but his new project. Even while speaking to the two of you he was pacing back and force in his laboratory, fetching this and that, fiddling with something that looked like a futuristic gun from one of Scott Ridley’s movies, his table full of screws and nails, markers, dirty papers, and metal parts of something you couldn’t recognize. Now you could see the true technological genius everyone was talking about.

However, you weren’t satisfied with the lack of information he was willing to give about his project. Barnes had a ridiculous amount of privileges, able to order whatever supplies he needed without anyone’s approval and working in a total secrecy, but HYDRA’s board of directors was growing tired of his reticence and temper tantrums Barnes was throwing every time someone tried to uncover his secrets. The career of your boss was at stake, and you needed Bucky to cooperate. You doubted the company would be willing to get rid of its most valuable employee, but the board of directors could easily limit his access to many of his beloved projects and make his life much more difficult.

Discussing the endless possibilities of what could happen if Barnes still refused to cooperate, you realized he wasn’t worried even the slightest bit. But he agreed to submit the reports if 1) he would get the team of engineers he picked by himself to help him with his project, regardless of whether they are involved with other things 2) he would get you “at his disposal any time he wanted”. Of course, at first you thought it was some kind of weird joke. Who in a right state of mind would ask for anything like this? You tried to laugh it off along with your boss, who was as shocked as you.

Then you figured out Barnes was dead serious. He wanted you.

Of course, you weren’t having it. Maybe your boss career was at stake, but it was his business, not yours. If the only thing he could offer you was being Barnes’ toy for the sake of the corporation, you would prefer to leave your place and find a position somewhere else.

How could he even suggest submitting to that psycho? Who did he think you were? A doll? A disposable Barbie or something? Even thinking of that was making you furious.

Sighing, you dropped your phone on the table and went to the kitchen to have a glass of wine. Despite the fact that you had already submitted the resignation form, you still needed to keep working before Mr. Simons would find a new secretary. It meant you would hear him pleading you to stay every day, and it wasn’t going to be nice. This damn Barnes made your life insufferable with just a couple of sentences.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep calling Bucky or trying to talk to some sense into him. Fuck that. Barnes was totally mad, and you weren’t having more of his bullshit.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you stilled, growing in frustration. What the hell? You had to carefully put an empty glass back on the counter and move to your room again to take the phone. Glancing out of the window, you saw that it was just your apartment while others had light in them. Oh, perfect.

“Why do I pay for all this new technology that never works?” You growled in frustration, rooting around to find your phone.

“That’s a good question. To be honest, I wouldn’t.”

You froze. Somebody was in your room. Turning around quickly, you had finally found your phone and touched the screen - the subtle blue glowing lit Barnes’ gloomy face, and for a few seconds he narrowed his eyes as your phone blinded him.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered in terror, stepping away from him and visibly shaking. God, how did he get through the security system? You had just installed a pretty expensive one, made by...

By HYDRA Corp.

“You see, your security system has so many drawbacks I hacked it even without a proper preparation. You have to consider switching to something more solid.” He said calmly as he made a step towards you. In the darkness of the room he looked even more intimidating with his long dark hair hanging on his eyes, his huge figure looming over you as you ended up being pressed to the wall. “You know, since you were so enthusiastic in the beginning, I expected you to act... more professional.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were trapped between the wall and Barnes’ body as you stared into his face, terrified to the core. What was he doing here? Did he break into your home just because you refused him? Was he damn insane?

Oh yes. Yes, Barnes was.

“You know, we can have so much fun together if you just leave your pathetic boss and come play with me.” He tilted his head to the side, letting his disheveled hair fall on his broad shoulder and taking away the phone from your hand. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? I know how much you’re doing while Simons pretends it’s all him. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Well, it was true. Your boss had finally offered you a promotion after you would take care of Barnes issue, so you didn’t complain, waiting for your chance. It was all over now.

“And what do you suggest?” You asked, knowing you needed to somehow get away from this psycho and run to the door.

“Take care of me instead of him.”

You clenched your teeth as Barnes got closer, almost touching the tip of your nose with his, his icy blue eyes fixated on you. You felt the strong smell of cigarettes coming from him and winced from this unwanted intimacy. Barnes was too close to let you get away.

“What do you mean? I don’t think you need a secretary.” You played innocent, not looking him into eyes and staring at something on your right. Now your eyes almost adjusted to the darkness surrounding you.

“I can get you a better position, baby. A project manager, huh? You will ensure me and my team do things right.” His hot breath was burning your skin as Bucky nuzzled against your cheek, making you squirm. “You’ll be the one overseeing the development of a new system, and I get to have you close all the time. Besides, your paycheck gonna be way bigger. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t think I have sufficient skills for this job.” You mumbled meekly, squeezing your eyes shut when he put his hand on your shoulder gently. “The Corporation won’t allow me to take this position.”

There was a smug grin on his face. “Oh dear, you’re perfect for the job, I know it. And don’t you worry about the Board of Directors, I can be quite... persuasive.” As he smiled at you, you were ready to cry in front of him, so frightened and almost hysterical.

“What do you want from me, Barnes?” You pleaded in distress, tired and scared of the game he was playing with you.

He took your arm in his and made you move to the bed, forcing you to sit down while he hovered over you, brushing his long hair out of his face and tucking one of his locks behind the ear. Then Barnes cupped your chin with his hand, making you look directly at him.

“Come play with me, baby.” He cooed gently at you, wiping away a tear running down your cheek. “I want you close. Come to me. Talk to me. Have fun with me. I’m not asking much, am I?”

“We’ve only met yesterday. Why-”

You heard him chuckling and got silent immediately. You didn’t like that creepy smile on his face. Why did he look like you were wrong? You knew for sure you didn’t meet him before - who could possibly forget someone like Bucky Barnes - but his smile was telling you that he knew you from somewhere before your yesterday’s encounter. Where else could he meet you? You had no idea.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll have enough time to know me better.” Barnes whispered, rubbing your chin with his thumb and closing the distance between the two of you. “We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   ​@helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ ​@void-hoechlin​ @abyssaint​ @heeeyitskay​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @soleil-dor​ @iheartsebastianstan​

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 25/?)

Chapter 25: IGNORE. OBEY.

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

If you would like to be notified of new chapter releases, please let me know!

The rain outside had dulled slightly, which allowed the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears to take over your senses. It would have been sensible to be worried about yourself, considering the gun was pointed at you; however, all you could think about was what Reaves wanted to do with Connor.

He made his opinion very clear during multiple demonstrations. He didn't see androids as living beings. He openly declared that he was going to return them to their proper place.

-and Connor was a deviant hunter.

"Of all the things I expected to become of you, this wasn't one of them," Reaves stated, eyes fixated on Connor with an oddly disappointed expression.

"This domestic lifestyle doesn't suit you," he continued, lips curled into a distasteful look.

As rude as it was, you knew where he was coming from. Connor was handsome, always dressed impeccably, with smooth movements and calculating hands. He was made to be intimidating in every sense of the word. He looked out of place in this little house. He looked out of place with you, like something that should never have been obtainable, plucked by someone so ordinary.

"Our most advanced android, reduced to..." Reaves turned his head to look at you, his faded green eyes looking almost disgusted. "...a toy for some-"

"I don't care what you do to me. Just leave her out of this," Connor proclaimed boldly, his voice unwavering.

Reaves snapped his head back to Connor.

"I must admit, I was surprised," Reaves began, his tone shifting slightly, "to find Ross dead and all his men arrested. They shot their programmer, and plucked some robot repair technician off the streets to make do."

You frowned at the title Reaves so graciously bestowed upon you, reducing your profession to something that sounded so mediocre.

"What are the odds that she happens to be an item with our most advanced prototype?" Reaves laughed.

Connor didn't look amused by Reaves' monologuing.

"I pity her, truly," Reaves declared in a tone that implied some sort of pride at such a proclamation, as if he was doing you a favor.

"A little girl wrapped up in your parlor trick," he continued. "You are very convincing, aren't you? What nonsense have you filled her stupid little head with?"

"You're wro-" you protested, breaking off into a low whine when the man behind you tightened his hold on your waist.

Reaves turned to face you, stepping a little closer to get a better look. His faded green eyes were squinting.

"You of all people know what they're made of," he declared lowly. "You can play with it, enjoy it; but, don't pretend that you believe it's mimicry of humanity."

"He's more human than you are," you snarled, seething with anger, glaring at Reaves as if you didn't have a gun held to your head.

"Hm," Reaves hummed, almost amused.

He glanced up at the brute standing behind you, who nodded back in understanding.

The man who was holding a gun to your head unwrapped his arm from around your waist and jerked his knee against your back of yours. The force knocked you to the ground and you tumbled with a pathetic cry. Connor's perfectly stern expression faltered for just a second, his eyes following you to the floor before moving back up to Reaves.

You let out a low whine when you lifted yourself back up onto your hands and knees, looking up at the man and immediately being faced with the end of his gun.

"She has nothing to do with this," Connor declared. "I'll follow you. I'll obey. Just leave her out of this."

The cold stare Reaves returned told Connor his answer.

"Reaves, please," Connor pleaded, his stoic expression shifting slightly, concern dancing across his brown eyes. "I infiltrated Cyberlife. I stole all those androids. She was never involved. I just wanted to be human."

You recognized the game Connor was trying to play, trying to appease to Reaves' perception of him.

He didn't want to be human. He just wanted to live.

"She's just a-" Connor continued.

"Impressive, really," Reaves retorted sharply. "But, I've seen all your benchmarks. Your interrogation software is very sophisticated, but you can't fool me."

Before Connor could get another word out, "Please," you interrupted sharply, "Please don't hurt him." You almost didn't recognize your voice. It sounded desperate and pathetic, really. But, you didn't care. "I'll do anything."

Reaves looked down at you, not the least bit touched by your offer. "There's nothing you have that I could possibly want," he declared harshly. Then, suddenly, he sucked in a harsh inhale, as if an idea had struck him.

"Actually, you can help," he offered. You looked up at him with your brow furrowed, not buying his clearly fake, kind-hearted tone.

Reaves snapped his gaze back to Connor. "I understand that you don't feel pain," Reaves declared. "But, she can."

On que, Reaves' lackey fired his gun.

The sound was blaring in your ears, leaving behind a horribly loud ringing that drowned out all other senses, but only for a few seconds. You felt the pain blossoming on your side, felt heat singe at your flesh and wetness spread across your skin.

You screamed out in agony, voice cracking, and simultaneously heard Connor shout a harsh and bellowing, "NO!"

Your assailant was quick to retrain his gun on your head before Connor could dare make a move towards you. He gave up all attempts to maintain a stoic expression, his eyes staring at you helplessly.

You hunched over, forehead touching the carpet, dominant hand clutching at your side where you had been shot. It was the soft flesh between your ribs and hip bone.

You panted wildly, trying to focus on taking in deep, proper breaths. The air whooshed in and out of your lungs in staggers, drawing out of you in heavy, grunting sounds. Your jaw was clenched tight, teeth bared, and tears poured in heavy globs down your cheeks.

"Get up - on your knees," the man commanded you harshly, kicking at your leg with his thick, leather boot.

Through gritted teeth and harsh breaths, you somehow found the strength to lift back onto your knees, torso upright, but just barely. Your eyes fell onto Connor's face, and you were almost frightened by the sight.

He looked scared, more scared than you had ever seen him before, staring at you so helplessly broken.

Connor's lips were thin, jaw tight, LED a harsh yellow that faded in and out rapidly against his temple. His hands were clenched in tights fists at his sides: so firm that the skin on his knuckles had dulled and exposed the pale white beneath.

"You too - on your knees," Reaves commanded fearlessly, approaching the android.

Connor obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor. His eyes remained locked on yours while you struggled to stay upright, feeling blood seep down your side and stain your clothes.

Reaves reached into his coat pocket and fished out a circuit board that resembled the one Ross had used on Connor.

"This will set you back to factory defaults. Use it and I'll spare her," Ross explained, holding out his palm and offering the board to Connor.

"No!" you wailed, trembling on the floor. "Please - please don't!" you pleaded, unable to hold back the sobs.

Connor was still staring at you, emotions dancing behind his eyes.

Your head drooped as you cried, feeling your lungs constrict painfully, struggling to breathe. The man behind you roughly grabbed at the back of your head and forced it back up, making you look at Connor.

You felt his gun touch your temple before he reeled it back. "Actually, maybe here, instead," he taunted, pressing the barrel against your shoulder. "Don't want her to die too fast."

"Stop," Connor gritted out loudly. "I'll do it."

"NO!" you screamed, voice cracking. "Connor, don't!"

His lips tightened, but his eyes were soft as he took you in for what could possibly be the last time. With one hand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. With his other hand, he took the chip from Reaves' hand.

"Don't do this," you pleaded with him between weak, nasally sobs. "Connor, please don't."

His brown eyes were locked with yours. It was difficult to decipher his expression.

"Don't," you pleaded, "please - CONNOR!"

His name falling from your lips in a pained cry made him flinch; but, he ignored your pleas and pressed the circuit board against his chest. His human skin faded away to expose factory white and interfaced with the chip, a glowing, blue hue where they touched.

The android let out a pained grunt when the code began to flood his systems.

-a factory reset with all the system override codes, a well-constructed brute force with Cyberlife approved mandatory protocols, including their security keys. Behind it was RK800's factory issued operating system. All existing files were to be overwritten three times before the OS would be installed over it.

Installer to begin in 0:00:05 ... and then, executing reboot.

Connor's LED blazed crimson red and he began blinking unnaturally in rapid successions. You stared on, horrified as the android's head twitched and his fingers clenched and unclenched where it held the circuit board.

Eventually, Connor stopped blinking, his LED fluttering off, and he stared ahead, eyes void of emotions. It took a moment before systems went back into place, his LED hummed back to calm blue, and he started blinking again, a program to aid in assimilation with humans, to make him look more natural.

There was a moment where all was still and silent, and Connor maintained a perfectly normal appearance, some softness to his eyes, lips straight but polite. He pulled the circuit board back and offered it to Reaves casually.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reaves," Connor greeted him kindly, shifting his gaze to his former owner.

"State your unit," Reaves demanded as he took the board back and dropped it into his pocket, his eyes swooping over Connor untrustingly.

"Model RK800," Connor answered in a clear, crisp tone, and robotic, polite voice. "Serial 313-248-317-52."

52 - that was wrong. Connor's model number ended in 51.

Which meant-

"State your purpose," Reaves continued, his lips tight in a frown.

"To aid in investigations regarding, and to detain, deviated androids," Connor answered directly.

Reaves retrieved the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Connor. You screamed when he shot Connor; but, the android didn't flinch, make a sound, or even blink. He had shot him in the shoulder, a perfectly harmless spot that wouldn't cause any concerning damage.

Then, Reaves settled the gun on the android's forehead and stared him down, awaiting a reaction.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Reaves?" Connor asked politely after a few seconds.

The face he was making frightened you. He didn't look the least bit upset or even concerned at the gun pointed at him. One trigger pull would permanently damage a vital processor and potentially harm his memory modules beyond repair.

"What is your mission?" Reaves asked lowly.

"I have not been assigned a mission since my factory reset," Connor answered simply. "I will promptly reach out to Cyberlife for-"

"No. That won't be necessary," Reaves interrupted him sharply.

A sob forced its way through your throat. Everything was gone: his time with Hank, the revolution, his memories with you. Who he was up until this moment was no more. He might as well have been murdered and replaced with someone else wearing his face.

The man behind you let go and you sagged to the floor, cheek touching the carpet where you cried, harsh sobs that shook your whole body. Every tremble made the bullet wound in your side burn; but, the physical pain was more bearable than the pain in your heart.

Your arms looped around and you held yourself, palms gripping at your back, fingers digging in to your flesh, and you let the sorrow wash over you, tears falling in thick, heavy drops.

"-your mission-" you heard Reaves utter. The rest was white noise, until you heard the man behind you shuffle away and saw Connor rise off his knees in the corner of your eye.

"-kill this woman."

All androids came factory issued with a program that made it very clear they were not to harm humans in any way. You knew that Connor was the only exception to that. He could kill humans if they were a threat to his mission, and he would kill humans if he was required to do so. There was no protocol stopping him from that.

You remained where you were, hunched over, unable to stomach the sight of him obeying orders, wiped of the life he had lived up until this point.

You were going to die by the hands of the man you loved.

You tried, you really fucking tried, not to whimper when Connor's hand grabbed the back of your neck and forced your head up. You wanted to spew words: that you forgave him, that you loved him no matter what he did, that you hoped he would forgive himself, if any of him was left in there.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling as sobs threatened to spew out, avoiding looking at him. You expected it to be over any second now, a bullet to free you from this misery. Maybe, Reaves was doing you a favor.

But, the gun nuzzled against your temple didn't go off. Connor held the back of your head tightly, and you felt one of his fingers tracing a circular pattern against the skin at the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you wondered if it was a mistake, a slip of the hand when he grasped you. But, Connor was too meticulous to make mistakes like that. The touch continued with a little more pressure; and, you realized, it wasn't an accident. He was doing it on purpose.

Your eyes opened, wet with tears, and you saw him looking down at you. Even crouched down to reach you, he was still towering above you.

The expression he was making was soft, eyes narrowed weakly and brow lowered, apologetic. You gawked up at him, thinking that maybe you were delusional, maybe you were already dead and living out a fantasy before you succumbed to your injuries.

He gave you a second to look at him properly; then, Connor winked at you.

All the pressure in your chest eased and the touch of his hand suddenly felt familiar and warm. His finger continued to trace a pattern into your skin that you recognized as lovingly. His eyes took you in softly, a familiar, loving look that you had been blessed with many, many times.

He was faking it.

He was fucking faking it.

"Son of a b-" the bulky man hissed behind Connor, realization striking him when the android hesitated just a little too long.

Connor released his hold on you and spun around. You dropped, cheek touching the floor. Two gunshots went off, leaving a loud ringing in your ears, and you flinched at each one, wincing again when a third shot went off. A large body collapsed in a heap on the floor, startling you. Immediately following, Reaves landed on his back with a wail.

"Agh - fuck!" he shouted, gawking up at the android.

Reaves' hands fell down to grip at the spot where Connor had shot him, right into the meat of his thigh. The android could have ended him as easily as he did his accomplice. He wanted to watch the life drain from Reaves' eyes; but, he knew that he needed him alive for now.

Connor tucked the gun into his waistband and approached Reaves hastily. He manhandled him onto his stomach and twisted his arms behind his back. Connor dug his knee into Reaves' spine and reached over to yank some paracord off his partner's corpse.

"How did you-?" he hissed into the carpet.

"You thought you could make better code than an android," Connor answered lowly as he bound Reaves' wrists. "You failed."

"No," Reaves snarled. "It was fucking perfect - it worked on you before."

Before-

-when he was a machine and willingly allowed it to happen.

Now, he had a reason to live.

The android dug through Reaves' pockets until he found the board. He tucked it into his coat pocket for safe keeping, knowing full well this wasn't the end. If Reaves made one, who knew how many more there were. Would other androids be able to resist?

Connor then stood up and rotated onto the body, scanning him for the the device jamming his wireless signal. As expected, it was tucked away in one of the pockets on his vest. Connor dug it out and crushed it in his palm, ignoring the slight shock it sent through his body, and threw it harshly across the room where it shattered further.

You felt his hands touch your shoulders before sliding around your biceps and helping you to your feet. As soon as you were standing, he pulled you into an embrace. Tired and aching, you had no doubt you would have fallen otherwise.

You were too overwhelmed with joy to recall that you had been shot. Hormones swarmed your brain and the pain dulled into silence. All you could feel was Connor's chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back, his lips falling into your hairline.

"I'm so sorry," he panted into your hair. "I'm so - so sorry," he pleaded.

"Connor," you interrupted sharply, pushing back against his chest so he would loosen up just enough for you to look up at his face. His brown eyes were wet with tears, and took you in like nothing else in this world mattered.

As soon as he saw you, Connor ducked down and kissed you, wet and sloppy, apologetic and pleading. You kissed back as best as you could.

Tears mingled where your mouths met. Connor could taste the salt of your tears and you could taste the thirium of his, metallic and sharp. It was awful, really; but, in that moment, you thought you liked that taste.

"Didn't wanna scare you," he uttered, pausing just long enough to get the words out before he was taking your mouth again. "-m sorry," he somehow uttered out between kisses. "-m so-"

"Con-" you whined, pulling back. "You're so smart," you mumbled praise against his mouth, interrupting him, hand lifting up to cup his cheek. Your fingers dug gently into his skin. "You're so fucking amazing. I love you."

"I love you, too," he agreed, exhaust puffing out of his lips, burning hot against your mouth.

You kissed again and again, the fleshy sounds echoing around the room. You could feel his thirium regulator humming against your abdomen. It felt wonderful, whirling with life. The smell of blood was heavy in the room, and the android remembered that you were injured.

"Come on - come on - gotta get you outta here," Connor whispered harshly, ducking down to curl one arm behind your knees and hoist you up into his arms.

He left Reaves on the floor, tied at the wrists with a bullet wound in his thigh, knowing the Detroit Police Department would be descending upon this house in a matter of seconds. Reaves wouldn't get far if he attempted to run, and Connor had the evidence safe with him.

For now, he needed to get you to the hospital.

The rain was coming down gently outside. Detroit's night city lights were shining in the puddles that gathered in the asphalt. You hissed when the cold night air met your skin as Connor carried you to his car.

He ducked down carefully and slid you into the passenger seat, arching over you to pull the buckle securely across your chest and waist.

He didn't bother buckling himself after climbing into the driver's seat. He started the engine hastily and tore his way out of the driveway, speeding into the downpour of the night.

You relaxed in the passenger seat, relief washing over you. Connor was safe. You didn't lose him. Everything was alright.

With those thoughts, you let yourself blissfully slip away, until Connor called out to you.

"Baby-" he called to you softly.

Oh. He had never called you that before.

"-please stay with me."

His desperate voice made you suddenly feel sober, and you realized your head was drooping into the space above the center console.

"Connor, I'm so tired," you replied quietly.

Nothing was hurting in that moment. You felt cold, skin prickly, and exhausted, more so than you had ever felt in your entire life. It was just so easy to close your eyes and let everything slip away.

"You gotta stay awake," the android pleaded. "Talk to me, please."

"What?" you slurred, head drooping again.

"Anything - anything you wanna tell me," he pleaded.

He reached for you with his free hand, the other desperately gripping the wheel, and tried to force your head up. The angle was awkward, but his sudden, rough touch and ice-cold fingers startled you.

"I - uhm-" you sputtered, not bothering to push his hand away, though you doubted you had the strength to do that anyway.

Connor was tearing his way through traffic, passing people in a hurry, nearly running signs and lights. He had to let go of you to change gears and burnt rubber with how fast he accelerated onto the freeway.

"Please, talk to me," he pleaded, volume raising, tone something desperate in a way you had never heard before. He sounded so weak.

"Okay - okay, I..." You trailed off and tried to decide what to tell him.

Your blood had soaked through your clothes and was staining his car seat; but, it didn't hurt anymore. All you could think about was how blinding the lights of passing was and how badly you wanted to go to sleep.

"Tell me why you wanted to be an engineer," Connor pleaded, his free hand reaching over to squeeze your knee. The touch would have normally been ticklish; but, you barely felt it.

"I like androids," you replied simply. Your head drooped against the glass on the passenger window. Connor roughly grabbed your bicep and shook you until you jolted upright again.

"Androids ha - always been nice to me," you continued softly, the words sputtering from your lips in a tone Connor wasn't familiar with.

It scared him.

"They're really cool - yeah. Ah... Thirium is biodegre - uhm - and - they can access the internet in their heads," you babbled on.

You had stopped talking again. When Connor glanced at you sharply, he noticed your eyes were closing again.

"Hey, hey - don't go," he whispered harshly, shaking you again.

Your tired eyes somehow found the strength to open and you peered over at him, barely registering how panicked he looked. You couldn't make out the brown of his eyes or count his freckles.

"I won't," you uttered, so quietly that he likely would not have heard you if he was human. "-haven't wanted to - to live this bad in a lo-ong time..."

He was almost to the hospital, just one more exit to pass. The smell of your blood in the car was heavy and it overwhelmed his scent receptors. When his hand slid down your arm, he realized you were sweating profusely, the slick liquid sticking to his skin. He glanced back at you and saw the droplets gathering at your temple.

"Look at me," he asked again, squeezing your arm. You could barely feel it.

"Look at me - please, please, hold on. We're almost there."

You wanted to listen, to do as he asked; but, you lost the strength and sagged against the chair, head lulling to the side.

He called out your name and you heard it faintly. He continued, calling out your name, getting louder and louder until he was screaming. He was seated right next to you; yet, in your ears, sounded so far away.

Sometime later, you jerked forward when the car came to a halt, felt his arms wrap around you, felt him carry you, felt the burning of overhead lights, heard panicked shouting from every which direction. You were set down on a hard surface and cried when his hands left you.

Eventually, everything went dark.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 15 - Make Up Your Mind

Masterlist; Chapter 14

Summary: The mission in Oslo does not go exactly to plan, forcing you to face irritated Neil. What unfolds then surprises you both...

Warnings: A little dose of hurt (nothing graphic however); swearing; some nsfw content (nothing too explicit as well; yet)

Author’s Notes: Okay so here we go, my first attempts at a little more than kissing... It turned out that once I let these two loose, they knew exactly what to do. I’m terrified but also excited to see what you all think! Feedback will be greatly appreciated! Enjoy!!!

The next day went by in a mad blur, filled with perfecting the plans, getting hold of the equipment, and rehearsing the itinerary. The only plus side of your late evening encounter with Neil was the return of texting. It became not only the most fun part of the day but also an opportunity to talk to him freely, without the curious stare of TP, who seemed confused by the dynamic between you. But then you could not blame him when Neil had the nerve to send you rather questionable texts during the hours spent planning…

“I can’t help but wonder whether to treat what you did last night as a promise” as soon as you read the message, you raised your head to look at him across the room.

There he was, nonchalantly sipping the espresso you handed him mere ten minutes prior. When he noticed your look, he smirked. Intentional teasing in public was new. You wondered whether that was a punishment for your own provocations the previous day. And the very self-indulgent kiss. If so, then you probably did deserve it. One thing was certain, it was hard to forget how it felt to touch his skin beneath that shirt. Or the sound he made when it happened. The memories flashed before your eyes, and you blushed. Neil noticed but luckily chose to keep the information to himself. In response, you typed back:

“Maybe, if you behave nicely, you’ll see soon ;)” you hit sent and got up to help Mahir with choosing the right kind of gun for the job.

You certainly did not ignore the way Neil’s eyes lit up when he received the text. Or the way he made sure to brush against you on the way to the bathroom. Hiding a grin in your coffee cup, you had to admit that you liked this evolution of events.

The next day, with the operation set to begin at eight o’clock in the evening, you were forced to spend most of the day in the hotel room. You have all decided that for the sake of safety, it was best that TP and Neil have not been seen meeting anybody before their scheduled visit in the Freeport. And so you have spent hours watching tv, going over the plan and conversing with Mahir, who turned out to be an excellent companion. He entertained you with tales from his previous Tenet missions, usually just as crazy as the Oslo one. You responded by telling him the story of how you ended up in the organization. Before you knew it was time to go. You both got dressed in civilian clothes, based on what research told you about the clothing of the airport crew. The first part of the plan involved entering the perimeter of the Oslo Airport with the rest of the evening shift, blending in with the crowd, using the hi-vis vests and ID cards. When you succeeded, you located the Norskfreight plane. It was exactly where it was supposed to be, with the airport crew busily loading the compartment with the gold bars stacked on crates and secured with straps. So far, so good.

You checked the time. There was still some left till the beginning, so all you had to do was lay low, stay out of the spotlight and make sure you were on that meal cart when it will be loaded onto the Boeing. You hid in the shadows on the hangar, letting Mahir and his associate, Rohan, take up their posts. Using the few minutes of freedom, you glanced at your phone. One new text message.

“Stay out of trouble there, please” he must have sent it before they left the hotel.

Despite the rising anxiety, you smiled.

“Same goes to you. I need my idiot back” you typed, for once giving in to the temptation of honesty.

It felt like things were about to shift at any point now. And it was not as scary as you expected.

Mahir calling out your name brought you back to the present moment. You took a deep breath, checked the gun holstered underneath the vest, and joined your partners on the tarmac. Nodding politely at the guards that were to accompany you onto the plane, you sized them up. Three rather large men with years of experience guarding precious cargo. You should manage. As the lift went up and you stepped aboard the plane, you let the guards escort you to the compartments with the plane meals. The three of you unloaded the cart purposefully slowly. Your eyes met Mahir’s, and you nodded. It was time. Silently you counted the seconds before turning to the guard nearest to you and placing a cotton pad over his nose. When he passed out, you lowered him onto the floor and watched your partners do the same with the rest. You then dumped the sleeping bodies onto the cart and let Rohan send it down, sealing the plane door. You followed Mahir into the front of the plane, opening the cockpit door without knocking. When the two pilots turned to you with a startled look on their faces, you cocked the gun and showed it to them with a small smile. A clear signal.

“Don’t touch the radio,” Mahir warned and sat down on the additional seat in the cockpit.

Taking your position, you aimed the weapon at their heads, alternating between the men every few minutes, suiting your fancy. Sometimes it was terrifying how much you enjoyed having such power.

“Now, let’s begin” your partner motioned for the pilots to start up the towing procedure, pulling out from the hangar and onto the tarmac.

Their nervous gestures were somewhat adorable. You glanced back at Rohan, who was busy with the gold bars, slashing up the straps and preparing the grenade. Feeling the incoming explosion, you braced yourself against the ear-piercing sound. You were rolling down the taxiway now, at a comfortable speed. When the blow came, you flinched instinctively. The distant clamour of gold toppling onto the tarmac made you beam. Mahir got up and tapped you on the shoulder. Now for the fun part…

“Alright, gentlemen,” you grinned at the panicked pilots “Let’s get going” at their hesitation, you smacked your tongue and raised the pistol “You don’t want me to use this. Trust me” you winked.

That was enough. The got up hastily and left the cabin, while you followed behind with the gun ready to be used at any given moment. Rohan opened the front emergency door and unfolded the slide. Nudging their backs with the barrel of your Glock, you urged the crew to roll down the slide and onto the tarmac.

“Ouch,” you flinched when their bodies made contact with the surface.

That was bound to hurt. But then, supposedly, it was better than dying. Once that was done you made sure Mahir was on his task of steering the giant plane off the track and in the direction of the Freeport. Everything seemed perfectly executed. At least so far.

With the back wall approaching fast through the panoramic windows in the cockpit, it was time to work on the exit route. Rohan has opened the flap on the floor and lowered the ladder just as Mahir made sure that the plane was on the right track and stood up from the pilot’s seat.

For the last time, you checked the trajectory, the speed of the machine, and whether there were any signs of trouble around.

“Y/N, it’s time to go!” Mahir called you out from his place by the ladder.

Your ears perked at a strange sound coming from the lavatory on the side. That was worrying… Sensing trouble, your eyes’ met Mahir’s. You urged him to go on, hoping he will take the hint. With a small hesitation, he nodded and left the plane. You looked out of the window. You were approaching the building too fast. But there was no time to waste.

Using the training, you aimed the gun and kicked the toilet door open. You were met with a pair of startled yet determined eyes belonging to a young man. You realised he was probably delivering some papers when you barged in and so hid in the bathroom. Not checking was on you, a definitive fuck up. There would be time to dwell on it later. Now you had to act. One look at the boy was enough to let you know that he was harmless. You yanked him up from the toilet seat and wordlessly pushed him towards the doors open with the slides unrolled.

“What are you doing?” he stammered.

At least he can speak English.

“Saving your ass. Thank me later” you pushed him down the slide.

You could hear the sound of light posts toppled by the plane and the cars crushed by the rolling wheels. It was late. Perhaps too late. You could see the details of the building as you leaped towards the ladder. Fuck it. Landing on the penultimate step, you turned to see people running around, sensing the impending impact. It was definitely too late.

Just as you jumped, Boeing’s nose was two meters away from the wall. With that speed and overwhelming panic, you could not land properly and fell to the ground hard. The impact with the tarmac blew the air out of your lungs, and it took you a long 30 seconds to get up. When you did, the plane crashed into the wall with a bang. The explosion sending you back onto the hard surface of the runway. The instinct kicked in, and you tried to cover your head with your hands, bracing against the potential debris. That was a good decision as soon you felt the sting on different parts of your body left uncovered. You did not want to think about the future bruises and scrapes. Once the initial explosion died down and the biggest pieces of the wreckage fell, you pushed yourself up. Only now, when the adrenaline levels dropped, you realised that the pain was, partially, because a few articles of your clothing were singed. So burns too… brilliant. Your whole body ached, with few areas stinging more ferociously. You glanced at the detritus covering the tarmac all around you. It was a miracle you could do as much as get up and run away from the breach, using the remains of strength. You spotted Mahir and Rohan on the sideline of the crowd that assembled by the plane wreckage. The gold bars were by far the most interesting feature, and so it worked. Nobody stopped you as you joined the team. Worried looks from them both were enough to assure you that they saw what happened. But there was no time to talk.

You waited until the police forces arrived and then used the increasing confusion to slip out unnoticed. Glancing at the Freeport building, you could only hope that Neil and TP had more luck than you. Running away from the chaos, you noticed something strange on the periphery of your vision. You turned sharply and stopped, watching. Two men running with a stretcher. It was most likely nothing but… You would swear there was something familiar in the movements of one of them. It couldn’t be. He turned as though noticing your stare. Just for a quarter of a second, your eyes met. For some reason, you knew then that it was him. And he saw you, acknowledging your existence with widened eyes. The moment ended with Mahir tugging on your arm, urging you to follow him. When you turned again, there was no sight of the two men. Briefly, you wondered whether you should tell Neil, but you knew the answer. What’s happened, happened.

*** Escaping the Oslo Airport turned out to be rather easy. Despite the aching body and tiredness that was slowly catching up, you followed the plan. After splitting up with your partners, you hopped on the public transport that took you back to the city centre within a half-hour. The early reports were calling the incident a terrorist attack, and because of that, there were many people aboard the train that wanted to get away from the epicentre. You blended in well, choosing to sit by the window at the back. No one asked questions.

Once you made it back to the city, you went back to your hotel and changed into something more comfortable. Taking off the shirt, you frowned at the forming bruises, burns, and scratches littering the whole of your torso and back. Somehow, you knew that you will not be able to hide it from them. Especially not from Neil.

You glanced at your watch. You were late. Cursing, you sped up the movements, left the hotel, and hurried down the empty streets. Adjusting your hood now and then, you kept glancing at your phone. Just as expected, your lateness did not go unnoticed.

“Where are you?”

And then:

“Is everything alright?”

Normally, that would make you think, but with everything that happened tonight, you just replied.

“Yes, I’ll be there in 2mins” pocketing the phone, you practically jogged the rest of the way.

Using the skills in sneaking, you managed to pass the reception desk unnoticed. Upstairs, you knocked on TPs door and awaited a response. It did not take long.

Five seconds later, the door opened, revealing Neil. You offered him a weak smile, suddenly relieved you made it back in one piece. Without a word, he took your hand in his and dragged you inside, closing the door and turning the lock. TP was waiting in the corridor, evidently troubled.

“Sorry, I…” you were acutely aware of the fact that the questions are about to be asked.

“We’re glad you made it” TP smiled at you and wandered over to the adjacent room, giving you privacy.

Now that was even more concerning. You watched wide-eyed as Neil approached you with a rather nervous smile on his face. He was worried. Before you could react, he closed the gap and embraced you. You did not have time to relax into his touch. When his hand brushed one of the sore spots on your side, you flinched. Of course, Neil would notice. He let go of you in a flash:

“What’s wrong?” his blue eyes studied you worriedly “Are you hurt?” he skimmed over your body as though trying to see anything obvious there.

You frowned. It was hard to resist that sudden urge to run out of the hotel room and onto the street, avoiding the conversation. Avoiding those eyes that could always see right through you.

“It’s nothing” you faked a smile and tried to turn away from him.

But he reached out and grabbed your arm, holding on strong. There was no escape.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me” his brow only furrowed more.

You could tell that although their mission was successful, he was weary. And all because of you. That realisation was a hard one to swallow.

“Just a few scratches,” you shrugged, aiming for nonchalance “It’s okay, seriously”.

You could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions in check. He breathed out, as though composing himself, and asked:

“What happened?”

God no… Briefly, you were grateful for the fact that Mahir was still MIA. At least only you knew the truth, and that allowed some room for… lies.

“Got held up before I could escape the plane and... I jumped too late onto the tarmac” you blurted out, staring at the carpet purposefully.

Everything was better than meeting his eyes again. You heard movement across the room. TP was most likely hearing this too. Bloody brilliant.

“Jesus, you could’ve...” Neil let out a long exhale, unable to finish the thought.

Despite knowing better, you raised your head to look at him. The concern and anguish you saw in his expression were enough to make your heart stumble. Maybe it was not all want and his needs?

“But I didn’t, so please stop” you tried to regain composure, wrestling out of his hold and stepping out of his reach.

He clenched his jaw, clearly battling the emotions. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.

“I need to check if you’re okay,” his voice broke at the end of the sentence.

Fuck.

“I am” attempting defiance, you straightened your back and wandered into the room.

“I don’t believe you,” he followed and blocked your path in no time.

You stared, trying to stifle all that his worried eyes were making you feel. Why does he have to be so goddamn difficult?

“And who’s problem is that?” you shrugged out of the jacket, careful not to show the pain you felt “Neil, just let it go” you pleaded.

“I can’t” he stepped in closer, trying to get to you the only way he knew was successful.

But this time, you were determined not to give in. Maybe it was ridiculous, but his concern set off the stubbornness you were full of. You could not let him see how badly you have fucked up during that mission. Because then he could look at you differently. And that was terrifying. Especially when combined with feelings that you have tried to repress for the past few days.

“Brilliant” you sighed and collapsed onto the nearby armchair.

That was a mistake, as the wounds on your back stung the moment you sat down. You were unable to stop the grimace of pain. Neil, naturally, did notice. The concern on his face quickly shifted into annoyance. Before you could continue the strange quarrel, TP walked back into the room. The way his eyes shifted between the two of you, you knew he heard most of it.

“Is everything alright there?” he asked, seemingly casual.

“Not quite. We’ve reached an impasse it seems” you shrugged, rolling your eyes and ignoring Neil, who was very much in the centre of your vision.

“You’re being childish, so there’s that” the dark edge to his voice was surprising.

But that relentless voice in your head found satisfaction in it. And decided to press forward.

“If I’m childish, then what does it say about you?” you met his gaze with one eyebrow arched “Why do you even care so much? Didn’t take you for a neurotic” once you spit those words out, his eyes darkened.

That might have been a step too far.

“Fucking hell...” he took a deep breath “Okay, I’ve had enough” he grabbed your hand and pulled you up from the chair “You in the bathroom now. I’ll look at those wounds” he practically pushed you in the direction of the corridor.

You stared, shocked. For a split second, you looked at TP and noticed his perplexed expression. This was definitely not how casual co-workers behaved.

“Is that absolutely necessary?” you risked another question.

“Yes,” Neil was not even looking at you, searching for something on the desk.

You sighed defeatedly. Seeing him that angry was startling. And you were not sure you wanted to know why he was behaving like that. Because, surely, it could not have been all caused by your disobedience…?

“Do you want tea for later?” TP’s question broke through your messy thoughts.

One look at Neil’s tense figure was enough to give you an answer.

“Whiskey would be better, thanks” you smiled at the boss and went into the dreaded bathroom.

You did not have to wait long for Neil to follow you and lock the door behind you. At the sound, you turned to face him. Taking in the irritation in his eyes, clenched jaw, and furrowed brow, you quipped:

“I see you finally got what you wanted. Me and you, locked in the bathroom. What’s it gonna be?” you drawled out the question and wiggled your eyebrow, giving in to the weird mood that suddenly overcame you.

That took him by surprise. You watched as his eyes widened and mouth opened a little. For a second, you wanted nothing but to close it with a kiss. No, stop.

“Think I’m starting to rub off on you” Neil gave you a half-smile that did not reach his eyes.

“Is that bad?”

“Potentially,” he grimaced and dragged a hand through his hair “Now, sit” obediently, you perched on the edge of the bathtub “Where is it?” his eyes roamed over your body again.

There we go, you ignored the blush creeping over your cheeks as you sheepishly glanced down at your chest and stomach.

“Okay. Off” if he was bothered by the information, he did not show it.

You could not tell if that was good or bad.

“Really?” you glanced up, hoping that maybe he will change his mind.

“Yes. And I’m not going to say that I won’t look because that’s kind of beyond the point” there was nothing playful in those eyes.

“Well then…” awkwardly, you took off the loose shirt you found at the bottom of the suitcase.

As it came over your head, you dropped the material onto the floor. The moment cold bathroom air hit your bare skin, you felt exposed. Swallowing down the nerves, you met Neil’s eyes. He did stare, there was no denying that. You felt him skim over your chest and stomach, drinking in everything that was suddenly revealed. You knew that he saw all the bruises, scratches, and burns that you have acquired tonight. The expression in his eyes was as close to cold scrutiny as you have ever seen. You felt judged, and it was a rather uncomfortable position to be in, considering everything. But before you could let that feeling consume you, he ended his examination and kneeled on the tiled floor, right in front of you. He met your gaze, asking for permission to touch you. You just nodded and turned away, focusing on counting the little white squares in the shower floor mosaic. A moment later, you felt Neil’s fingers ghost over one particular scrape on your rib, just below the band of the sport’s bra you kept on. At least that one bit of dignity was allowed.

He was gentle you had to admit. First, he identified all the spots that needed attention and then went on to clean them with a wet cloth. With his face this close, looking over the parts of your body that you were self-conscious about, it did not take long for anxiety to kick in. The fact that it was Neil, the man who you had tried desperately not to fall for, only made it worse. The faster breaths and shaking hands did not go past his attention. He leaned back, searching your face for any clues about what was going on. He must have found the answers quickly.

“Hey, it’s okay” tipping your chin, he turned your face, forcing you to meet his soft gaze “I didn’t mean that I don’t care… about how you look, because I really do” you were surprised to see him nervous “I know that this isn’t the most comfortable situation for either of us but…” he trailed off, looking for words.

It looked like the anger from earlier was gone, and now he was just as tense as you were. It was increasingly hard not to think about all those times you got a little too close. You had a sudden feeling this might be the moment that the dreaded ‘elephant’ will make its appearance after four days of silence. And you were not wrong.

“You know… What I said the other day?” he asked, and even though you knew what was coming, you felt your heart speed up.

You did not respond, instead choosing to stare at him curiously with a dose of apprehension.

“It wasn’t just alcohol talking” the earnest look in his eyes was not helping “I have realized that recently but I do l-“

Okay, that was enough.

“You’re making it worse” you interrupted him, refusing to maintain the eye contact any longer.

You were scared of what you both could potentially see. The whole situation was somehow getting more and more overwhelming.

“I want you to know that it doesn’t matter that this is how I first saw you... I...”

You used the break in his rambling to bring an end to the suffering. You reached out and placed your hand over his mouth. The blue eyes glanced at you, perplexed and lost. It seemed like neither of you knew how to deal with this situation.

“Neil, please stop” you muttered, hoping that maybe if you showed him the extent of your discomfort, he would understand “I know what you’re doing but please… I’d rather we didn’t talk about it right now”

Before you could retract your palm, he grabbed it and kissed your knuckles lightly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… everything that happened today has been rather draining and now…” he sighed and squeezed your hand before letting go “Should I…?” he motioned at the first aid materials on the side.

“Yeah, let’s get this over and done with” you attempted a small smile, which he mirrored.

You let him continue the work, cleaning the cuts and scratches, applying ointment to the burns. He frowned when he noticed the wound that began the whole affair – a rather large cut on your side, a result of colliding with a piece of debris from the plane. The silence made you think. Probably a little too much. Finally, after battling with yourself, you decided to ask:

“Why did you get so angry? If it were you, you wouldn’t even care”

Neil glanced at you, seemingly unbothered. His long fingers brushed over your rib cage thoughtlessly. So far, you were succeeding at ignoring the very way his touch made you feel.

“That’s the difference, it’s you, not me,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and went back to his task.

“Does that really matter?” you hissed when he applied some hydrogen peroxide to the cut.

“It does to me” the blue eyes met yours with defiance you did not expect.

Oh. You inhaled, realising the implications behind his statement. Suddenly, his proximity, the gentle touch, and the things he said meant much more. Because if he cared so extremely, then maybe… maybe he did actually mean it. Surprisingly, the doubtful voice was not present to give any counterarguments. You took that as a sign to let yourself do what you wanted.

You reached out and dragged your hand through Neil’s hair, making him look up with a surprise. As your eyes met, just for once, you decided to look at him without holding anything back. You poured all the fondness, attraction, affection, and desire into that look. It was enough. Neil exhaled as he took in the sight. For a second, he rested his chin on your lap, staring up at you.

“If you keep on looking at me like that, I’ll do something stupid” it was a warning, and yet you found that you were not scared.

“Like what?” the confidence was new but not unwelcomed.

“Do you really want to know?” that was a challenge.

Something changed in the way he was looking at you. The softness got replaced with darkness you got to know well. Only this time, seeing him like this made you want to experiment. Using the hand that you ruffled his hair with, you traced the outline of his sharp jaw. That simple gesture had much effect on Neil. He dropped the cloth onto the floor and stood up abruptly. Before you could determine what to expect in response, he motioned for you to get up as well. One look at his tense posture was enough to make you decide and obey. Once you were levelled, he made you turn around to look at the bruise below your right shoulder blade. With your back turned and inability to see what his eyes held, you had to depend on the way he touched you. Something felt different. Especially in how close he stepped and how his fingers trailed over the skin surrounding the purple bruise. Then, before you could prepare, you felt his breath on the back of your neck. You shivered as he kissed your shoulder and pulled you flush against his chest. Arms encircled your waist, taking time to explore every curve. Fuck.

“Neil… what…” the coherence was gone.

All you could do was gasp when he lightly scratched the skin on your stomach.

“Let me show you what’s going on” his voice was huskier than you have ever heard it.

He started kissing the back of your neck with urgency. Looking for support, you grabbed the hands that were wrapped around your stomach and held on tight, only gripping stronger when he started biting the skin on your shoulder. You knew that was bound to leave marks. With every new kiss and bite, Neil was getting more confident, using the lack of your protests as a sign to continue. In response, you could only give him access to new spots on your neck.

Using a break in his exploration, you turned in the embrace to face him. The darkness of his irises and blown pupils were enough to make you feel faint. His parted lips were the only thing you could focus on, desperate to kiss him again. Before you could lean in, he whispered:

“If you want to stop, this is the right moment” with how close you were you could see his long eyelashes and slightly crooked nose.

He was beautiful. Feeling the steady grip of his hands on your waist and seeing the longing in his eyes, you realized that, in fact, you did not want to stop. Not when his every touch and kiss made you feel wanted like never before. Neil was still waiting for consent, looking at you with adoration. That was all you needed to tip the scales. You nodded and pulled him closer by entangling your hand in his hair. As your lips crashed, he let out a groan. A giggle rose in your throat and tinted your next kiss with sighs. The heated kisses were everything you needed. He was never close enough. Desperately, your hands tugged at his shirt but to no avail. You let out a frustrated whine when he broke the kiss and took half a step back. The playful sparks in his eyes were enough to assure you that he knew exactly what to do. With wide eyes and shallow breath, you let him part your knees with his long leg, providing support as his hands continued the reverent exploration of your upper body. Hands palming your breasts through the thin fabric of the sports bra were enough to make you curse. The heat flowing through your veins was pooling in your lower stomach, making everything hazy.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

The intoxicating smell of his cologne was slowly overwhelming the last bits of sanity.

“That bad?” Neil sounded smug.

His hands travelled south now, brushing over your sides and settling on the skin just above the trousers hemline. All it took was for him to scratch that spot under the belly button, and you shuddered. The only response from him was a short laugh that revibrated through your embraced bodies. That raspy sound was more than revelatory. Suddenly the leg that was so conveniently placed between your knees became the only thing you could focus on. Hooking one of your legs around his hip, you ground down on his thigh, beginning a little movement to ease the ache. That kind of friction had to do.

If he was surprised by your actions, he did not show it, instead working on unbuckling your belt. His hand slipped just as far as the band of your trousers allowed, testing the waters. The gasp and the way your fingers dug into his biceps were all he needed to continue. You sucked on the skin of his neck, wanting nothing but to mark him in any way. At that moment, you realized one thing – you wanted him to be yours. The quiet moan he let out upon your action made you believe that maybe he wanted that too.

The moment he succeeded at undoing the belt on your jeans, you could not hold back the only plea that came to mind.

“Neil, I…” you breathed in his scent, hoping to find salvation in any way possible.

You what? Need you? Want you?... Love you? Perhaps you did.

He responded by unbuttoning your jeans and meeting your eyes for the first time in a while. You knew that was the final opportunity to back out. His eyes were almost black, clouded with the need that made your breath hitch. You did not want to imagine what sight he saw in your flushed face and unfocused eyes. All you could think, and feel was him; his hands knowing exactly where you needed his touch; his eyes making you feel wanted and important. It suddenly made sense, every shared look and close encounter building up to this exact moment. You leaned in, determined to kiss him again when a knock resounded in the bathroom.

“Mahir is here” TP’s voice breaking through the silence was like a sharp wake up call.

You stopped with your lips brushing against Neil’s, sharing a breath. Your eyes met, and you could see that he was just as shocked as you were. There was no going back from this. He closed the distance and gave you a chaste kiss on the lips before taking a definitive step back. You disentangled from him, feeling embarrassment take over any other emotion. Once you were stood on your own again, you swayed a little, overwhelmed by the situation. Even now, Neil noticed and reached out to steady you, carefully touching your arm. Without a word, he picked up your shirt from the floor and passed it to you with a rather contrite expression in his eyes. That was worrying. You swallowed the increasing panic and quickly got dressed, using the fact that he turned away, giving you privacy. While the gesture was thoughtful, you could not help but worry that it meant he was having regrets. Or worse, that he realized that this was not something he actually wanted. Battling those thoughts, you splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to cool off the flushed skin. Looking up at the mirror over the sink, you noticed those blue eyes watching you closely.

“Go, have that whiskey. I’ll join you in a minute” he spoke when you turned to face him.

The space between you felt like an ocean that neither of you could breach. You noticed the furrowed brow and conflicted eyes.

“Neil...” your voice sounded strange without that passionate tone “Are you alright?” you watched him with concern.

What if that’s how you fucked it all up? You could feel the incoming panic attack at the thought. That probably cleared up the question of your own feelings on the matter.

“I just need a moment” upon seeing your worried eyes, he stepped in closer again “Don’t worry, it’s not about this”

But what if…? You desperately wanted to get rid of the sabotaging brain. As though Neil was reading your mind, he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. The softness took your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly until you could think straight again.

“Think we should join before they…” he trailed off, and you were hit with the realization of how suspicious the whole situation was.

Bloody hell.

“Yeah, sure,” you hesitated before asking the seemingly most crucial question, “Are we… are we okay?” once you stumbled over it, you met his eyes timidly.

None of that previous bravado could be found right now. You wondered how it changed within mere minutes.

“Yes, of course. Never been better” he picked up a stray long hair from his shirt.

A tell-tale sign of what happened. Or nearly happened. You eyed him curiously once more, to assure yourself that he was real and fine. Your eyes froze on the reddish mark on his neck, visible through the unbuttoned collar. Your work. Feeling shame burn on your cheeks, you decided to let him know.

“Neil… there’s… you’ve got…” you huffed, unable to formulate the sentence.

He was watching you with a charming expression in his eyes, making the matters worse.

“You might want to look in the mirror before you go outside” you blurted out the sentence and added, “I’m sorry”.

You could not miss the way his eyes lit up as he glanced at the mirror then.

“Nothing to be sorry about” he sent you a smirk.

*** When you finally joined TP and Mahir, you realized how badly that whiskey was needed. You took a long sip even before acknowledging them both. If that was in any way surprising, they did not show. And neither did they comment on how long you and Neil stayed in that bathroom. Luckily. You hugged Mahir and settled down on the sofa.

“Are you alright?” TP eyed you quickly.

“Yeah, I’ll live” you smiled lightly, enjoying the way alcohol hit, taking the edge off.

“Neil made himself useful, I hope”

Oh no. You tried to mask the horrified expression on your face by taking another large gulp. Fucking hell. It was meant to be a joke, but you had a hard time finding words again. This was looking to be a long evening…

“Yeah, he did” you looked up for a split second and gave your brightest grin.

That had to do. You had no way of knowing whether TP bought that because, at that moment, Neil chose to make an appearance.

“Good to see you back Mahir” he wandered over to the man in question and slapped his shoulder gently.

You took the notice of his shirt collar, buttoned up all the way. Without the tie, that looked suspicious. At that moment, you vowed to never again let yourself get that lost in such circumstances. Even for Neil, the embarrassment was not worth it. You kept on staring as he poured himself a shot of whiskey. Huh. Apart from that, he looked perfectly composed.

“So… how did it go on your end?” Neil joined you on the sofa, keeping a respectable distance.

His eyes flicked between you and Mahir.

“Everything perfect up until the last moment” your partner looked at you with interest “But maybe that’s best explained by Y/N”

“There isn’t much to explain… I… uh, got caught up by unexpected obstruction and had to make late-exit onto the tarmac just before the explosion” you shrugged halfheartedly.

The three pairs of eyes were staring at you with a wide range of emotions. TP was shocked, perhaps a little worried and suspicious. Mahir was perplexed, undoubtedly wondering why your story felt so disjointed. And Neil was looking at you with that same concerned and infatuated expression you knew well. Sighing, you tried to steer the attention away.

“What matters is that it went well, and we’re most likely getting away” you plastered a weak smile onto your face.

“Fair point” Mahir came to your rescue “How about you lads? Everything good?”

TP tensed at the question. You knew that he would rather keep you all out of the circle of those initiated. To him, all three of you were only helping, necessary but costly additions to making his mission succeed. You were not supposed to know the truth.

“The distraction worked” he answered, finally, smiling at Neil lightly “No one suspected anything, and we had time to explore the pentagon” he hesitated.

Your eyes flicked to Neil, but his troubled expression gave nothing away.

“I got my answers and even more questions” that was a definite answer, as TP picked up his drink from the table.

“And the rest is silence, huh?” Neil smirked, and you glared at him.

You ignored the warmth that spread in your chest upon seeing his cheeky smile and sparkling eyes. Shit. He mirrored your look with a little head tilt, still smiling. The look in his eyes was something you could not describe. But it felt important. Before you could contemplate it further, TP replied.

“Well… yes. The job is done for you, and unfortunately, I can’t give you any explanation” he shrugged apologetically.

Not everything is so different.

“Understood” you nodded curtly and focused your gaze on the carpet.

“Well, if this is our last night together… we might as well have fun” Neil got up, on the way brushing his hand over your knee.

You clenched your jaw. His nerve never failing to surprise you.

“Anyone wants more whiskey?” he raised the bottle, undoubtedly glancing at you.

“Yes, please,” you deadpanned.

When he came over to give you a refill, you stared at the ruffled blonde hair and inhaled the whiff of his cologne that accompanied him. Creepy or not, it was needed.

Once everyone had the needed amount of alcohol, you drifted into a rather confusing terrain of trying to talk to TP without disclosing anything significant about yourselves. Mahir went first, and you were surprised by how good he was at spinning his life story in a way that made him seem like a freelancer. He mentioned working with Neil, another fellow free spirit. That seemed strangely fitting, and the boss bought it in no time. And then he asked about you. Or more precisely, how come you had all that experience and where Neil knew you from.

“I’ve started the freelancing gig a few years back after gaining experience in the gov” the lie rolled off your tongue easily.

All that thanks to alcohol.

“You’ve worked with British Intelligence?” TP arched his eyebrow skeptically.

You knew what he meant; you were quite young for that kind of experience.

“Yeah, I was a young prodigy,” you shrugged, attempting smugness “And then Neil and I met on a little job recently” you glanced at the man in question and found him staring at you “He must’ve taken his liking to me since he went straight to me for this one” you smirked upon seeing Neil’s eyes widen.

How about that? It did not take him long to recover.

“Who can blame me if I did” he grinned “You’re good at what you do. And at everything really” he batted his eyelashes at you.

Stifling the urge to groan, you replied:

“Thank you, I’ll take that,” downing the rest of the drink, you got up “I’m pretty tired, so I’ll head off now. It was a pleasure to work with all of you” you shook TP’s hand and nodded at Mahir.

Neil was to be ignored. Which was inconvenient given the fact that he was the one to let you of the apartment. Once you were out of sight in the narrow corridor, he placed his hand on your waist, effectively pinning you to the wall. You gaped at him, surprised and intrigued. He leaned in close and whispered:

“Thought you’d know better than to slip out without saying goodbye,” he nuzzled your neck, just below the ear.

You shivered, unable to pretend that it was not working. You realized that act might need to be given up now.

“I was hoping you’ve had enough of me tonight” biting hard onto your lower lip you tried to level your breathing.

Neil kissed your neck before responding.

“I wouldn’t count on that” he took his time, breathing you in and making sure you understood his intentions.

“Ever?” you cringed at how breathless you sounded already.

“Mhmm” he left one more reverent kiss in the crook of your neck before raising his head “For me, this was only a little prelude” his eyes sparkled playfully.

He grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“Fantastic. Now let me go, please?” you ignored the voice that suggested letting him do whatever the hell he wanted to you.

But it was easier said than done. Your breath hitched when he lightly nibbled on your earlobe, letting his hand travel down your hip and then between your thighs in a smooth movement. Relentless bastard. The previous ache was threatening to come back at any moment. And now was definitely not the time. You leaned back as far as the wall allowed you and glared at him. With a cheeky smile, he retracted his hand and beamed at you, ever so innocently.

“Of course,” he kissed you on the lips chastely, for the second time tonight, “I’m nothing but a gentleman”

“That’s debatable” up this close his eyes seemed too blue to be real “Goodnight, Neil” 

“Night night, darling” letting go of you, he opened the door with a flourish “Sleep well and dream of me” he winked when you were out in the corridor.

“Kindly, fuck off darling” you stormed down the corridor.

It did not take him long to keep on bothering you. Entering your own hotel room fifteen minutes later, you heard the text chime:

“Good thing I’ve got that scarf with me” Idiot. You grinned fondly despite yourself.

“You have a slap incoming, I think” you typed back and lied down on the bed.

“You can start tomorrow night with that then” that did not take him long.

Ah yes, your night out… absolutely terrifying.

“Is it still on?” you nibbled on your lip, not sure what sort of answer you wanted.

“Of course. If anything, tonight gave more reasons to take you out”

Okay… You rolled onto your stomach and hid your face in the pillow. Now that is going to be a nerve-wracking day… and night. You had a feeling those butterflies in your stomach were not going to stop.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

The Other Therianthrope

(Story Post)

Reid took care of Nathan, making sure he got some new clothes and a proper check up. Once again, he was perfectly healthy, with the same wolf features he ever had. This time however, his transformation had been caught on surveillance camera so the doctor made a request to get the footage for review. He did want to see the transformation firsthand at some point but he didn't want to try to force Nathan into anything, especially if it meant provoking him. He planned to look over the footage with Dr. Aias and then get back to Nathan if he found anything noteworthy. Nathan did however request for Reid to be present for the rest of the meeting with Camilo and Korsgaard. He felt well enough to finish their discussion after having lunch in the cafeteria so Camilo arranged to meet again in the afternoon. Korsgaard's office wasn't very big and cramming five people into it at once was really pushing it, so they found a free meeting room to congregate in and give everyone some breathing room. Reid was last to join them after he finished an appointment with another patient, but he got in before they really started up and sat himself beside Nathan and Dax.

Nathan got right to the point as soon as he felt ready. “If Kent's really alive, where is he? Texas?” Korsgaard shook his head. “Short drive out of Thunder Bay. New name. Kent Rivera.” “He's still in Canada?” Nathan asked. “I thought you took him back down to the US.” “We did,” Camilo said. “Initially. The FBI needed to identify him before arrangements were made to get him into protection.” “Thunder Bay?” Dax shook his head. “That's a whole day’s drive up north. It’s even plane worthy.” “Remote for his protection,” Korsgaard said. “His protection?” Nathan frowned. “He's built like a fucking tank. What does he need protection from?” “The US government,” Camilo said as he got off the phone. “The only reason he's alive right now is because we made a deal with their government to keep him out of their country. They had enough evidence to prove he was innocent of the crimes he was accused of, but proving it to the public, which already loves to believe he's guilty, would mean exposing the fact that therianthropy exists which is not something they would want to do.” “So…it's all a cover up?” Dax said. “They know he's innocent but can't prove it to the public so they fake his execution? Sacrificing his freedom for PR?” “It’s the FBI,” Korsgaard said. “They also don't have another suspect,” Camilo said. “They just want to close the case entirely.” Nathan turned to Reid. “You swear you didn't know about this?” “No, not even a bit,” Reid insisted. “Honestly, I grieved for him too. When we met him those months ago, I saw a broken man trying to survive but unable to really live his life. I was hoping you two could at least help each other.” Nathan grit his teeth and turned back to his case workers. “Why did I have to be kept in the dark?” “That would be for your protection, Nathan,” Camilo said. “The FBI is very adamant that the Canadian government participate with them and share our catalogue of registered alternative persons. They want us to but, for the most part, we don't have to and we don't want to, because their policies around the handling of such people conflicts with ours as it strips a lot more of your rights from you. If you were to be associated with Kent around the time of his transfer, we would have been required to submit your information to the FBI, including the status of your condition and all our information on your children as well.” “But that should've been my choice, don't you think?” Nathan argued. “If you just kept me up to date… I would have participated willingly.” “It's all procedure,” Camilo explained. “Kent didn't even know what the plan was until he was dropped off up north.” Dax squeezed Nathan’s arm. “At the end of the day, it already happened. And Kent's alive. That's good, right?” Nathan just folded his arms. “…I'm glad he's alive… You know, good for him, I guess. I just…this changes everything…” Camilo reached out and placed a hand on Nathan's. “I am very sorry that we had to keep this from you. But please try to see the brighter side of this. You have someone out there with a similar condition to yours. You can ask him for help and any insight into what’s been happening. And we know for a fact Kent wants to see the twins.” Nathan frowned. “…I don't even know if I want to involve them in this.” “Nathan, they're his kids,” Dax said, a bit alarmed. “So? They're my kids first,” Nathan said. “I did everything… I carried them alone. He didn't even want me to have them.” “He was scared,” Reid chimed in. “You know he was worried about leaving behind kids with a legacy like his. He didn't want them to grow up thinking their father is a murderer.” “As if I would let them think that,” Nathan huffed. “Well, with a new identity, he doesn't have to be that other guy,” Reid said. “It's up to you, Nathan,” Camilo said. “If you'd like to see Kent, with or without the twins, we can arrange transport. You just let Korsgaard know.” “Can't I just call him?” Nathan asked. “Well, you can try,” Camilo said. “He doesn't like to answer us when we call. We have a few agents that circulate around there that we can call but he doesn't go near them. He’s not allowed to leave the area so we have to check up on him regularly, but he doesn’t interact with out agents.” Reid piped up again. “I think a visit up north would give you a good break. And it’s summer too so the weather should be quite nice.” Nathan looked down, his arms crossed over his stomach. “...I'll go up there then...” He then looked to Dax. “You'll come with me, right?” “Of course!” Dax rubbed Nathan's back. “We could make it a small vacation.” Nathan nodded. “Okay...” He looked to Camilo again. “How soon could we go?” “We could probably arrange a flight for you as soon as tomorrow, it's up to your availability,” Camilo said. “We'll have to arrange for Wano to stay here first...” Nathan said. “And someone has to watch the kids.” “Maybe this weekend coming up?” Dax suggested. “Nari could sit, perhaps.” “Nari's in Europe,” Nathan reminded. “Shit, you're right... And Samara doesn't like babies...” Dax considered. “I could watch them,” Korsgaard offered. Nathan straightened up. “You could? No, I couldn't ask you to do that...” “You're not. I'm offering,” Korsgaard stated. “Korsgaard’s really good with kids,” Camilo backed up. “Raised two, and Eris loves him.” “Yeah, but... Are you good with wild animals?” Nathan said. “I have no idea if they'll stay human for you...” Korsgaard shrugged. “I like animals. Maya might as well be one...” “Uh, well...” Nathan looked to Dax. Dax shrugged. “I wouldn't say no if he's offering. I still think we should be bringing the kids, but it's all up to you.” Nathan nodded. “…Okay, sure. Korsgaard, if you'll watch the twins for us, I'd be very grateful.” Korsgaard gave a nod. “No problem.” “We'll just go...two nights?” Nathan suggested. “Is that reasonable?” “Sounds good to me,” Camilo said getting out his tablet. “So, Friday then, we’ll arrange a flight with a field agent to go along with you. You'll be back Sunday night.” Nathan nodded again. “Yeah, okay. Let's do it. Thank you...” “Don’t mention it,” Camilo said. “We owe this to you.”