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winterrrnight · 2 months

Note

12 with rafe I'm begging 😔😔

you ask and I shall deliver 🫡 I hope you like this nada <3 do let me know your views on this! 🩷

especially you

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: there are some things Rafe will do especially just for you.

WARNINGS: established relationship, very much hates everyone but you, the reader is a perfectionist - in constant need of academic validation (it is me guys 😓), fluff, usage of nicknames like babe, baby, sweetheart, minimal swearing

EDITH SPEAKS: this is kind of self indulgent 😀 need me a man who does this for me 😭😭 anyways, yes yes we are kickstarting the fics for the 600 celly! If you were there for my 300 celly, I know how late I got with those requests and I am so sorry about that 🥲 I promise I will try my best to not let that happen this time 🥲

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always appreciated ⛲

a lil note: the song below is used just as the title, and its lyrics aren't used as an inspiration.

PROMPT REQUESTED: “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.”

600 followers celebration || navigation

You sigh as you shut your laptop close, maybe a little too aggressively for your liking, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. You slump your head on the kitchen island in your arms, a headache already starting to creep in your head.

It’s barely week three in your new semester and you’re already piled upon with readings over readings, essays over essays, assignments over assignments, and you barely have any time with yourself or your boyfriend.

“What the actual fuck Kelce!” He groans. “Get your shit together man!” This is just the bare minimum of what he is actually saying. It doesn’t help your situation though, your headache only pulsating more harshly, making you groan in pain.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he’s sitting in the living room, headphones in as he almost yells into the microphone, as his thumbs run rapidly over the controls of the controller gripped tightly in his hands. Curse words followed by his friends’ names leave his lips, as his gaze is fixated on the screen in front of him.

You sigh as you look at him. He does not go to university because just as he graduated high school, his father passed his business onto him.

“No no no no no no!” He yells, “god what the fuck is wrong with you guys?”

His deep voice booms in your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your head in your hands as you gently press your temples, but it does not work; Rafe’s voice level only increases with time, and it bothers you more and more.

“Rafe!” You yell out completely exasperated, from your place in the kitchen island. He doesn’t even look at you, and you realize you weren’t loud enough for your voice to penetrate through his headphones.

You get up from your chair and saunter over to Rafe, gripping his headphones and yanking them off. “Shut up!” You snap, as you toss his headphones to the side and leave the living room, stomping off to your bedroom.

Rafe watches you go away, completely stunned. He takes a deep breath before picking up his headphones. “We’re pausing it for now, and no, I will not hear any shit from either of you,” He fumes in the microphone and shuts off the game before making his way to the bedroom. As he enters inside quietly, he sees you are standing in the balcony, leaning against the railing as you look out, a stressed look on your face.

“Babe,” he says softly as he steps out to the balcony, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter under your breath, not tearing your eyes away from the sky stretched out in front of you to look at him.

When he detects your reluctance to talk, or to even lean into his touch, he lets out a sigh, his arm dropping back to his side as he sits down on one of the chairs in the balcony.

A few moments pass in utter silence, as all you both here is the sound of the birds chirping in the distance, cars rushing past the streets, and the soft breeze blowing against your skin.

Your back is towards him as he watches you stand next to the railing; he can tell you are completely tense from your stance, the way your shoulders aren’t relaxed, your jaw is clenched a bit, and you are gripping the railing a little too lightly.

“Baby…” he calls out softly, “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” He says. He’s determined to not let you go unspoken this time, ready to even pull you into his arms if needed.

To his surprise, you don’t deny as you trod to the empty chair next to him and sit down. His arm instantly wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you in his side. He presses a long, yet soft kiss on your forehead, rubbing your arm in a soothing motion.

“I’m sorry if I was too loud baby,” he mumbles against your hairline, “I absolutely didn’t mean to bother you so much,”

You let out a deep exhale as you shake your head. “It’s okay Rafe, I was just… too tense already and that just put me over the edge, I guess,” you murmur softly.

“What’s been keeping you tense then hm?” He asks, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his feeble attempt to comfort you as much as he can.

“This semester’s already kicking my ass,” You sigh. “I already have a shit ton of work to do, and it’s just the third week? I spend all my day doing this shit and I still can’t catch up with it. I barely have time for myself or to spend with you,”

Rafe’s grip tightens a bit on you as he pulls you in closer to himself. “You know I would typically say that it doesn’t matter, don’t stress too much, don’t work so hard blah blah blah, but I know you well enough to know it doesn’t work on you,” he says and he sees a small smile form on your face. “No matter what I’ll say, you will work hard and put in 120% effort for something which doesn’t even count that much for your grade. And you know how much I appreciate that about you, you’re insanely hard working,” a small smile on his lips as his other hand holds onto yours.

“But you know what I can do?” He continues. “I can take great care of you. You don’t have to worry about your meals; I’ll take care of them. I’ll watch a movie, give you kisses and cuddles, or do anything you want when you take a break; which, by the way, I’ll make sure you take. Whenever I see the moment, I’ll take you out wherever you want to go. I don’t want you to take unnecessary stress of the new semester sweetheart, because I know you’ll make it through it okay? You 100% will, I know that.”

You turn to look at him, a softened look in your eye. All his words slowly sink in you, and you realize you don’t have to take as much pressure of the new semester as you were. You rest your head on his shoulder and softly nod. “Thank you Rafe…” you whisper.

“There’s nothing to thank me for you sweetheart, I am your boyfriend, this is the least I can do,” he smiles as he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You slowly feel your tensions melt away as you sit with Rafe on your balcony under the warm afternoon sun, your body muscles relaxing and the stress laying heavy on your mind gradually withering away.

This is one of the moments where you realize Rafe’s the one.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment

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oneecheri · 3 months

Text

Late night confessions with Mattheo Riddle

Genre: Fluff, mild language. ( with a smoking problem )

Ship: Mattheo x Reader, no usage of name.

Word count: 884 words.

Song: Shameless

Notes: Please do provide me with feedback, how can I improve my writing and/or if you like the story or not. I originally wanted to post my writings on TikTok but at the end decided to open a tumblr page so I’m new. Pls give me some love babes. Also, the pictures are from Pinterest but the writing is mine. Enjoy!

“I am sorry Y/N.” Mattheo breathed out a puff of smoke as his gaze was fixed on the stars. You were a little far from him, both leaning against the cold walls of the astronomy tower.

“I had no right to ruin your studies with that guy.” He then turned to you and met your cold gaze meant for him.

“Please don’t look at me like that… say something… your silence is killing me.” His searching gaze wandered between your eyes, nose and lips. He lowered his head, taking another deep puff from his smoke.

“Yes, you had no right to do that Riddle…you humiliated me….” you let out and got closer to him, your voice cold as ice sending him uncomfortable shivers.

“Under which title…for which reason?”

He let out a chuckle turning his body towards yours. “As a friend?”

You shook your head and put your manicured fingers on your hips, urging him to continue.

“Acquaintances?”

Your heart beat rapidly increased due to his warm brown orbs never leaving yours.

So you were glad that it was the night time.

He couldn’t see the blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Fuck… House mates?” He tried harshly itching his neck.

“But I, hell sure, am not regretting that.” He spat out while searching for some sort of feeling in your eyes. His gaze accidentally dropping to your pursed shiny lips.

“You got detention because of that…plus he had a girlfriend, so your jealousy was good for nothing, dear.” You smirked trying to get on his nerves.

He tsked and threw his finished cigarette down, crushing it with the tip of his shoe.

“I am - I was not…” He looked at you and felt his chest tighten from all the love within.

“Okay you win baby, I was jealous as hell.” He admitted tipping closer to where you were leaning towards the wall.

“I had no title and no right to punch that guy too, I know.” He continued getting closer to you his right hand fisted and a few veins popping on his neck.

“But he was too close, too close.” He stood tall over you, making you look up through your lashes.

“I am sorry that I made you mad, dear.” He gently touched your chin, slowly moving your head higher, and your bodies closer.

“Mattheo…” you whispered, closing your eyes.

Hearing your alluring whisper, he seemed to get out of the trance he had in your captivating eyes.

He whispered some curses, hardly pulling himself away from you. His fisted hand seemed to open by itself, trying to get himself a new cigarette from his jacket in a rush.

You gently stepped closer to where he had moved, and held his hand.

“Mattheo…” he looked at your hand holding his and gulped lowering his head.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t… it’s going to be too many for a day. You’ve had a lot…cigarettes… today.”

The thought of you paying attention to him, let alone counting the amount of cigarettes he had, made his heart flutter, suddenly butterflies erupting.

“Why?” He whispered.

“It��s gonna be too much.” He held your hand suddenly his eyes going wide. Your hands were freezing. He gently took both your hands into his large palms, puffing out hot air, trying to warm them up. You couldn’t stop the smile that found its way on your face and mouthed him a ‘thank you.’ Your eyes not leaving each other for a few seconds.

“I…” he started, suddenly feeling short on air.

“I’m not the best dude out there.” He tilted his head up, staring at the stars, not meeting your gaze. “I like fighting, cigarettes. I like cuts and bruises that show my victory on others. I like fast cars and parties…” he breathed out, his eyes closing in a flood of mixed feelings.

“Yet you…” he opened his eyes, directing them at you. “You’re the most gentle, calm and loving person I have ever seen in my entire life.” You smiled which made him smile in return. You noticed his hands stop shaking and mentally noted to hold his hands whenever he seemed to go overdose with his smoking.

“You hate fighting and you’re afraid of blood. You always put plasters on my victory medals…”

“I guess you mean cuts and bruises all over your face!” You scoffed making him let out a dry chuckle. “I guess.”

“Look I am sorry for everything.”

“What?”

“I won’t ever do something like this and humiliate you…”

“Mattheo…”

“I will keep myself away from you…” he gulped and stepped away from you. His eyes getting blurry and body almost loosing balance.

“You are so stupid!” You yell, tears suddenly settling on your eyes.

“What…” he whispered, stopping and turning back to face you again.

“Yeah…” He let his eyes close as you stepped closer to him, your hands landing on his chest and hit him.

“You’re so dumb!” You yelled again, a single tear escaping your eyes.

“You can’t feel my love.”

“No.” He whispered and held your wrists, pressing soft kisses on each.

“Really…” He cupped your face and brought his forehead against yours.

“I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too Mattheo.” And with that, he wiped your tears making you feel back alive that midnight.

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ street food date ´ˎ˗

(isn’t that just the most creative title :D)

requested by very a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous <3

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India) x Fem!Pakistani!Reader

Type: Oneshot - Fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: terms of endearment, mentions of food & eating, usage of Hindi (translations provided), I don’t speak Urdu so it’s google-translated 😭

A/N: Reader speaks Urdu and Pavi (canonically) speaks Hindi. Since both languages are pretty similar in terms of speaking, at least from what I’ve observed, let’s assume that they can understand each other fairly easily :)

I absolutely LOVED writing this omg it was such a cute request! Sorry it took me so long so do this, I was so busy that I completely forgot abt all my reqs for a while 😅

Btw this was barely proofread so if there are mistakes no there aren’t <3

“Meri jaan, you’re spilling it.”

You turned at the familiar voice, just barely managing to balance a paper plate in your hands with an absurd amount of dahi papadi chaat piled onto it.

“You’re late,” You noted, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling like a lovestruck idiot as Pavitr approached you, flashing that dazzling, slightly crooked grin that had your heart stumbling and falling over your mind trying to make sense of it all. You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying your best to cross your arms without dropping the food on the plate.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. But you know that juggling my… duties and timings are hard,” He dipped his head slightly to make you look at him, brushing a small piece of papdi off your kurta. God, he was so annoying sometimes. His eyes were so soft and irresistible and he knew it.

“Come on, look at me,” He said teasingly, stepping forward slightly and grinning as you glanced up at him, then immediately frowned at your lack of willpower when it came to him. “There she is.”

You felt a smile break through so you set down the paper plate on a nearby ledge, leaning forward to wrap him in a hug and bury your face in his clothes. “Arre, you’re insufferable,” You mumbled, to which he let out a small chuckle and effortlessly picked you up to spin you around despite your little yelp of surprise.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m sure that’s why you came out here on a date with me to have street food, right? Let’s go, meri dhoop. No use of you being all sad right now, naa? Look, there’s even pani puri a few stalls down.”

You almost got whiplash from how fast you turned your head to look, your eyes widening in excitement as all previous thoughts were forgotten. “You should’ve mentioned that earlier!”

Pavitr laughed, the easy chuckle - as cliché as it sounded - practically music to your ears as you grabbed his hand and took off, leading him to the pani puri vendor. “I knew that’d cheer you up.”

One shared paper plate of (admittedly quite messy) pani puri and a whole skewer of seekh kebab later, you leaned against a ledge overlooking the Mumbattan bridge right next to a whole row of new vendors. Pavitr wrapped an arm a little too tightly around your shoulders, nervously measuring the distance you would fall if you tripped.

“Pavi, relax, I won’t fall,” You gave him a reassuring smile, and he breathed out slowly before giving you a slightly strained smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. Spider-Man stuff. Lots of, uh… bad things happen. Usually near large drops.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation. Sensing his discomfort, you moved away from the railing back into the middle of the cobblestones.

“I’m going to braid your hair,” You declared suddenly to ease the tension in the air, examining the smooth waves that framed his face, pushed back slightly with his blue headband. His eyes widened in horror at your statement. “Wait, what? No! I said I was sorry for coming late! I’ll do my absolute best to come on time, I promise!”

“I’m not that rough,” You protested, scrunching your eyebrows as he cupped his warm hands over your cheeks. “Of course not, meri jaan. You’re so gentle, my hair definitely doesn’t feel like it’s being sent to an early grave.”

“Aap drama baghair kisi wajah ke bana rahay hain.” (You are making drama for no reason) You frowned at him and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Kabhi nahin! Mei achcha vajeh se drama karta hoon. …Uff, thik hai, tum mere baalon ko tod sakte hain. Lekin… pehle ise kha leh.” (Never! I do drama for good reasons. ..Okay, fine, you can tear my hair out. But first… eat this.)

He held up a plate of vada pav, his smile growing as your eyes lit up again, the familiar scent bringing back memories of sitting in your grandparents’ house and watching them cook, masala-infused aromas wafting through the kitchen from the large utensils.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You wondered aloud as you started stuffing your face with the nostalgic dish. Your tone was lighthearted and playful, but it had a few traces of the underlying truth. You were so, so lucky to have him, and you knew it.

You could see it every time he dramatically presented you with some knickknack or the other that he picked up along the way, handing it to you with a bashful ‘it made me think of you.’ You could see it every time he adjusted your dupatta, every time you caught him staring at you with round, loving, awestruck eyes as if you were the very centre of the cosmos itself.

And when he smiled at everyone it was usually genuine, sure, but you had a special kind of smile reserved for your eyes alone. One that made the small dimples at the corners of his mouth even more noticeable, one that made him scrunch his nose subconsciously with how wide he was smiling.

The kind of smile he was using right now. And oh, good grief, you were so far gone for him. He was so effortlessly gorgeous it actually hurt - wavy hair swept to one side behind his headband, brown eyes turning gold in the sun, the light dappling his face and flicking tiny spots of shadow onto his skin.

“Tum bohat khobsorat ho,” (You’re so beautiful) You whispered, completely spellbound. Pavitr blinked in surprise, his smile turning slightly shy. “Arrey, tum mujhe bahut zyaada phlait karte ho.” (You flatter me too much)

“No, really!” You insisted, tapping the tip of his nose with your pinky and laughing when he scrunched it instinctively. “You’re very pretty, you know that? Mera khobsorat ladka. Pretty, pretty boy.” (My beautiful boy)

“Aap adhik sundar hai.” (You’re more beautiful) Without warning, he gently grabbed your torso and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. You looped your arms around to meet behind his shoulder blades, resting your chin in the crook of his neck.

You were scared to move, to disturb the silent peacefulness of it all, but you wanted to tell him something that would hopefully put his worries to rest.

“You know I won’t leave you, right? I won’t be your… what is it, canon event? Whatever that is.”

At the words ‘canon event’, Pavitr flinched as if he had been burned, his eyes wide and searching as he looked at you. “What? Where did that come from? And how-”

“Okay, listen, so it’s kinda my fault,” You began, choosing your words so as to not agitate him any further. “But you know how you said I could read your journal, because basically every embarrassing thing you’ve written is you being lovesick for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” He covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, messing up his hair in the process.

“Anyway, uh… you left it open on your drawer and I maybe kind of accidentally looked through the last entry. But only because I was worried. You’d been acting stressed out the whole day, remember? I’m sorry!”

“I don’t… hmm, actually, that’s pretty sweet that you were worried. I appreciate it.” He lifted his head to meet your eyes, almost smiling before his face crumpled again. “Hang on, what else did you see? Oh, god, did you see the whole page of poems I wrote? No, wait, hear me out! In my defence, I was absolutely whipped for you. I still am, but-”

“Pavi?”

“Yeah?”

“Ai, meri mohabbat. Chup ho jao. Mujhe lagta hai ke yeh dilkash hai,” (My love. Shush. I think it’s adorable) You reassured him, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose before moving in to press a soft kiss to his lips, an attempt at putting his worries and ramblings to rest.

That shut him up pretty well.

Please know that I am not Pakistani! I tried my best to write this, but if there is anything I’ve gotten wrong, please let me know and I’ll be happy to change it. <3

Meri jaan - my life

Meri dhoop - My sunshine/my sun

A kurta is a loose, collarless type of shirt worn by people in South Asia. It usually extends up to or just past the knee.

A dupatta is a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, by women from South Asia.

Papdi chaat (or papri chaat) is crispy fried-dough wafers served with typical chaat ingredients such as chickpeas, boiled potatoes, yogurt sauce, and tamarind and coriander chutneys; it may also contain pomegranate seeds. Dahi papdi chaat is the same thing, but more yoghurt is used (dahi means yoghurt/curd).

Pani puri is a popular Indian snack consisting of fried puff-pastry balls filled with spiced mashed potato (the puri), spiced water, and tamarind juice (the pani).

Seekh kebab is a type of kebab made with Indian spices, spiced, minced or ground meat, usually lamb or chicken, formed into cylinders on skewers and grilled.

Tags: @hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

#⋆·˚ 🌹 ༘ * — 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗶’𝘀 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨!#⋆·˚ 🌺 ༘ * — 𝙝𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙨!#across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x reader #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr atsv #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr prabhakar x fem!reader #pavitr prabhakar x pakistani!reader #pavitr x you #pavitr my beloved #pakistani reader #atsv fluff #atsv x desi!reader #desi reader

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 1 year

Text

Convallaria Majalis [Alex Keller x Fem!Reader]

Summary: Trusting people is hard, especially when they’ve let you down so horribly before. But you trust Kate, and Kate trusts Alex. And trusting Alex? Well that might just change your entire life.

Author’s Notes: I put a lot of thought and time into the title of this one, and finally settled on Convallaria Majalis- Lily of the Valley. In the language of flowers, they mean “the return of happiness”. The plants themselves have extensive underground root systems that spread quickly, unnoticed, and can easily overtake a large area and other plants with little to no indication it’s happening until it’s happened. That also happened with this story. What I’d planned on being a ~10K fic has become a whopping 19.2 words… I can’t say I’m sorry. I hope that theme carries through what I’ve written, and I hope all of you who read it enjoy the reading as much as I enjoyed the writing. Lastly, a big shout to @chaoskrakenuwu for proofreading this for me, and the whole Uselss discord for your anticipation and encouragement. Love you all. ❤️

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content, drug usage, attempted date-rape (NOTHING graphic or explicit, implied more than stated)

It was a beautiful, sunny, colorful Virginia afternoon, just like every other you’d had so far this week. The weather was just warm enough to heat your skin in the sun, just cool enough to feel chilly in the shade. You’d brought a smart-looking blazer along that morning, just in case, but it was slung across your messenger bag, unneeded in the balmy weather. You’d stopped by your favorite coffee stand on your lunch break, let yourself be flirted with by the teenaged barista, and now walked briskly into Langley, swirling your iced espresso as you went. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor, echoing through the near-sterile hallway. You smiled and nodded at your colleagues as you went, stopping just short of the elevators when you heard your name.

You turned to see Kate Laswell half jogging down the hall to catch you up. “What are you working on right now?”

All traces of your smile dropped at her serious tone. “Coding. Why do you ask?”

“Hand it off, you’re coming with me. I need you on the ground.” She flashed you an apologetic look. “I need someone I can trust.”

Your spine straightened, field training falling over you like a sheet. “Yes ma’am.”

Kate had already hustled past you, but threw a smirk over her shoulder. “None of that ‘ma’am’ shit, Trip. You know my name.” She waved a hand over her head, calling back “Twenty minutes to brief!”

You didn’t bother answering her, punching the button for the fifteenth floor. You rolled your shoulders back, taking in a deep breath. You’d been off the field for nearly a year, after almost losing an arm in a firefight. Physical therapy had lasted for months, and trauma therapy for months after that. You’d been working out of the main Langley offices, mostly programming, while you healed. You couldn’t deny that you were itching to be back on the ground. But you hadn’t been expecting to be pulled by Kate Laswell of all people.

The elevator couldn’t move fast enough, your tapping foot the only evidence of your growing impatience. When you reached your floor, your director met you at the elevator.

“Kate find you yet?” You nodded. He grunted irritably. “Why on Earth she felt she needed you specifically is beyond me, but I wish she could’ve found someone else.” Harsh as he sounded, you took his words for what they were- disappointment at losing one of his best assets.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back before you know it.” A look passed over his face that you couldn’t quite name. Wariness? Resignation?

After a moment, he shook his head. “I hope so,” he muttered. Then he turned his back to you, stalking down the hall to his office. Something about this whole thing seemed off, but you couldn’t focus on that right now. You watched him go for a moment before shrugging the whole odd encounter off and making a beeline for your desk.

There, you logged into your desktop to forward the files you’d been working on and to set an automatic response on your emails before pulling your locker out from its place beneath your desk. The tiny key felt both foreign and familiar as you turned it for the first time since your injury.

You took a deep breath, then swung open the locker. In it were all of the pieces of your old life, your real life; your tactical vest and black fatigues, a black bodysuit, wigs, changes of clothes, a duffle, and, nestled into the side pouch, your beloved Sig Sauer P228.

You yanked the duffel out and open, shoving most of the clothes into it along with your tac vest. Then you pulled out the black leather shoulder holster you’d worn every day for four years, stroking the pliable material fondly. You donned it, tightened the straps, and pulled your blazer over it before holstering your gun. You hefted your duffel and took one last look around the office, wondering absentmindedly when, if, you’d be back. Then you marched for the elevator, scanning your badge to access the basement level where Kate set up shop when she worked out of Langley.

Ten minutes ago, when you’d spoken with her, you didn’t have access. Now you did. She worked fast, you’d give her that.

The doors slid open, silent as ever, and you clicked into Kate’s lair.

The room was dark, cold, and quiet. Servers and bookshelves lined the walkway, directing you to a large table scattered with documents and folders. A single laptop cast a soft glow on the corkboard behind it. Just as you reached the table, a low voice startled you out of your focus.

“Who are you?” You whipped around, coming nose to… well, chin, with someone. You tilted your head, looking up to meet a pair of cold, grey-blue eyes. The man glaring down at you had a handsome, chiseled face, visible even under his overgrown goatee and beard. In the low light, you couldn’t quite tell what color his tousled hair was- blond, maybe? Or a light brown?

He shifted, leaning back on his heels and crossing his heavily tattooed arms across his broad chest as he towered over you. He tilted his head, sizing you up, just as you were him. He’d sure be pretty, if not for that scowl.

Before you could answer him, Kate’s voice cut in. “She’s your new partner, Alex. Introduce yourself, and play nice.”

Alex’s brows shot up, stance relaxing immediately. He looked back to you, curiosity replacing the mistrust in his eyes. You reached toward him and offered your name. When his hand clasped yours, it dwarfed you- his fingers nearly touched his palm.

“Alex Keller,” he replied. You could tell he was deliberately keeping a looser grip than he would normally use, and you squeezed hard once. That made him grin, and he tightened his grip incrementally before releasing you to turn toward Kate. “Now Kate, what’s all this about? You know I was this close to finding those guns.” He held his thumb and forefinger together in front of him, making Kate roll her eyes.

“Yes, well, Trip was busy too. But I have a delicate assignment and I need people I can trust.” She leveled you both with a look. “This is highly sensitive, top secret, all that bullshit. Do you both understand?”

You nodded, standing up straighter, and saw Alex do the same in your peripheral vision.

“Station Chief Harding has come under recent suspicion for drug trafficking.” You and Alex shared a startled glance. A CIA station chief? “We believe he’s using a club in Amsterdam as his cover. As I’m sure you both know, if Dutch officials were to find him in possession, it could jeopardize our operations there.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to question orders,” said Alex. He paused, only continuing when Kate nodded to him. “Shouldn’t the teams in Amsterdam be the ones looking into this?”

“No. I need people that Harding won’t recognize. I hand picked both of you for this one. I trust in your abilities to work without supervision, and to be discreet.” Kate held Alex’s gaze, nodding toward you. “And I’m trusting you to protect her.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Alex bend in your direction. He was still facing Kate, but he seemed to lean involuntarily toward you. Your own posture shifted, your hands coming up to rest on your elbows as you shuffled your feet.

“Protect me?”

When Kate looked toward you, she didn’t look happy. “You’re going in as one of the… workers at the club.” She paused, letting her words sink in. Your heartbeat slowed before kicking back into gear at twice the pace. Alex was watching you carefully, brow furrowed. He hadn’t put it together yet. But Kate had read the look on your face before you had even realized it was there. She reached out, laying one hand on your forearm and one on Alex’s bicep. “I wouldn’t send you in if I didn’t think you could do it. And Alex is the best man for this job. He will not let anything happen to you, okay?”

“Kate?” Alex’s open face had closed off somewhat, suspicion lacing his lips and his words. “What am I protecting her from? What’s going on?”

“I’m going in as a waitress in a strip club.” Kate shook her head, looking ready to protest. “Dance club. Whatever.” Alex’s head snapped in your direction, mouth falling open in silent protest. You spoke again before he could interject. “And you’re going to make sure Harding and his men don’t kill me if he finds out.”

There was an awful beat of silence before Alex wrenched his arm out from under from Kate’s touch, sputtering in indignance. “Now hold on-” he began. But you couldn’t hear him. A cacophonous tunnel of white noise had enveloped you while he argued with Kate; all you could hear were the voices of the last pair of agents who had been assigned guard duty for a mission like this, back when it had been a strip club.

“We could do better without her,”, “It’s not like she’s in any real danger,”, “You really expect us to babysit a girl in a strip club when we could be accomplishing something real?” You’d heard it all before, the night you’d returned to base with your arm limp and nearly detached at your side. Those two had blown into the back room, overconfident and uncaring. The target had pulled out a knife that “miraculously” made it past the club’s security and nearly cut your arm off before your partners killed him.

It hadn’t been Kate’s mission. When she’d found out, she’d summarily fired both of the agents and the special agent in charge. That knowledge did little to ease your anxiety. You trust her you told yourself.

You vaguely heard her, calmly explaining that Harding was well known for surrounding himself with scantily clad young women, both on and off duty. “It’s the easiest thing to exploit!” Everything sounded muffled, as though you were underwater.

“You can’t put her in a direct line of fire just because it’s easy! We have to figure something else out!” Alex’s roaring yanked you back to reality. You turned to look at him, then- to really look at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes glinting and jaw set. One hand reached protectively out and back toward you. Somehow in the midst of the conversation, he’d angled himself between you and Kate. You wondered if he’d even noticed. And in that moment, that singular subconscious gesture, and his vehement opposition to the plan, you saw why Kate had chosen you both, why she felt confident enough to ask you to walk back into the fire. A seed burrowed under your skin, into your chest, latching onto the side of your heart.

Gently, you laid a hand on his shoulder. He seemed to unwind beneath your fingertips, tension sapping out of his muscles. He turned his head, pursing his lips as though about to speak. “I’ll do it,” you said. He froze, eyes scanning your features. Whatever he was looking for, he found. He nodded once, sharply, and lowered his hand as he turned away from you both.

“Fine.” There was a resignation in his voice that made your heart clench. Kate let out a silent sigh of relief, meeting your gaze. You nodded at her. She turned to the table behind her, picking up two case files and extending one to each of you.

“Your flight leaves in two hours.” With two quick “yes ma’am”s, you and Alex moved for the door. He darted forward, holding it open for you and not quite meeting your eyes. You murmured a quiet thanks and scurried through, turning to hold the elevator door open for him when you stepped in. He ducked his head in thanks, pressing the button for the ground floor and retreating to the far side of the elevator.

Neither of you spoke a word, not even looking at each other until the door opened and he waved a hand for you to go first. You did, exchanging small smiles, and then went your separate ways. You turned as you reached the front doors, catching just a glimpse of his puzzled face as he examined you from the garage before disappearing into it.

There was a certain disappointment in leaving behind your duffel. You laid it reverently on the shelf in your closet, stroking the side of it and tucking your handgun back inside. You felt vulnerable, leaving it all at home. But there was no place for anything in it on this mission.

In the two hours you’d been given, you managed to walk home and pack a different suitcase with a wide variety of clothes, get a cab, and make it through airport security. You arrived at the gate just as they announced early boarding, catching a glimpse of a tall head of ashy hair stepping through the bridge. You walked to the counter, scanned your ticket, and smiled at the girl who thanked you for your service. You kept your eyes down as you walked, shuffling through the narrow space. You only raised them when someone stood from their seat, dark boots blocking your way.

You’d changed into sneakers and without your heels, your eyes barely came to Alex’s shoulders. He smiled lopsidedly, offering you a hand. “Take your bag?” he asked. His voice was low and smooth, just a hint of gravel in it. You unslung your backpack, handing it to him with a grateful smile. He reached up to stow it in the overhead compartment and your eyes fixed on the rippling muscles of his arms. Pretty, indeed. “You can take the window seat if you want,” he said.

You slid between his lithe body and the seat, not giving him any opportunity to rescind his offer. He chuckled as he lowered himself into the aisle seat, giving you an amused look.

You shrugged. “You offered.”

“I did.” His eyes sparkled as he quickly looked you up and down. You allowed yourself a glance over him, as well. In the brightly lit airplane, you could see him much more clearly. His hair was an ashy brown, just as mussed as when you’d first seen him, with a wavy pair of cuts in the side you weren’t sure were intentional. His skin was tan, even under the line work covering his arms from the wrists up, and his face was lightly freckled. And his eyes, locked on you, were the stormy, slate grey of the roiling ocean, just a hint of blue in their depths.

You’d also looked him up, in your brief trip home.

His entire file had been redacted. So, you dug deeper as quickly as you could to find his file from before. Most of that file had been redacted, too. There had been single visible words scattered throughout the pages you skimmed. Efficient. Intentional. Empathetic. Cautious. And beneath his file photo, taken with the same ridiculous houndstooth scarf he’d worn both when you met him and now, a lone, lonely squad designation. Delta.

You blinked back to the present, zeroing in on his raised eyebrows. You blushed, having been caught staring, and turned to face the window. “So how long have you been doing this?” you asked. Alex took so long to answer that you looked up, only to find him turning his head away. Almost as though he’d been staring, too.

He cleared his throat. “‘Bout ten years now. What about you?”

“Depends.” He cocked his head, studying you. “I worked in the field for four years before they made me a desk jockey. And I was in the Navy for a couple of years before that.”

A look of pride crossed Alex’s face. “No kidding. Army. Six years.”

You smiled wide, turning to better face him in the narrow seat. “I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.

A quiet dinging noise roused you from your dozing. You shuffled a bit, turning into your pillow, until it moved.

Your eyes flew open, head snapping up.

Your cheeks burned when you realized you must have fallen asleep on Alex’s shoulder. You’d both talked about your time with the military, being snatched up by the CIA, and what you did now- all in hushed tones, of course. You’d leaned together, foreheads nearly touching, and whispered stories to each other for several hours until you’d convinced him to try to sleep. He’d spent the last 24 hours flying to DC from the Middle East, and now he was back on a plane to Europe.

You registered mild surprise that you’d fallen asleep, yourself. You’d been tired, but sleeping on planes had never come easy to you. Not to mention your trust issues. You seldom so much as rested your eyes around new people.

He was still sleeping now, head angled toward you and arms crossed over his chest. The dark circles you’d noticed under his eyes hadn’t lightened yet, but you knew they would take time to fade. His chest rose and fell slowly, lips twitching slightly under the curled ends of his comically large mustache. You heaved a sigh, looking up to see what had woken you. As you did, the pilot announced your descent into Amsterdam. The glowing seatbelt sign accounted for the sound you’d heard. You fastened your seatbelt, then glanced at Alex’s lap, hoping his would be on, too.

It wasn’t.

Gingerly, you reached around him, lifting the fallen belt from the side of his seat. Just as you clicked the two pieces into place, Alex’s hands shot out and gripped your wrists like vices. You froze, looking up at him as he stared through you in a haze. His eyes darted across your face before he seemed to recognize his surroundings, recognize you, and his hold loosened.

His eyes flicked down to his hands on you and he recoiled, horror sweeping over his handsome face. “‘M sorry,” he breathed. He sat up straight, wriggling away from you, hands suspended halfway between you both where they seemed to reach for you, but clasped nothing. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. Panic laced his voice in equal parts with the rasp of sleep, and his eyes flew over your arms as though he didn’t believe you. Cautiously, you reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. You lowered your head, barely succeeding in catching his frantic gaze. “You didn’t hurt me.” He swallowed hard, nodded, and scrubbed his hands down his face slowly.

“We’re landing?” he asked.

“Mhmm.” You turned your back, leaning toward the window to give Alex a moment to collect himself. It didn’t take long for him to lean forward in an attempt to see around you. You glanced at him, offering a smile that he returned tiredly. “I always love looking at the lights. They’re so pretty.”

He said nothing, but you could feel his stare heavy on your face. You said nothing else to each other as the plane landed. Alex stood as soon as the seatbelt light flashed off, reaching up to pull down his duffel and your backpack. Rather than hand it to you, though, he slung it over his own shoulder, holding a hand out to gesture you forward.

“After you,” he said.

You arched an eyebrow as you passed. “Such a gentleman.” The only response you got to that was a low chuckle.

You were able to get your bags, a cab, and to the safehouse within the next hour, punching in the door code and flipping on the lights. The house was narrow, but far deeper than you’d expected. The kitchen was stocked with various MREs and canned goods, a large office tucked behind it. When you both trudged up the stairs, you found a library and a fully stocked weapons room.

You squealed about the Dutch classics you found, while Alex lamented his general illiteracy of the language. When you offered to read to him, he gave you the softest look you thought you might have ever seen. You moved to the weapons room, taking your time admiring the stash, murmuring to each other about your favorite guns and attachments, before moving up to the third story in search of bedrooms. There were two, side by side with a bathroom and tiny loft on the other side of the long hall.

“I’ll take this one,” said Alex, moving to the first door. He shrugged at your curious look. “Closer to the stairs.”

You gawked, moved by his thoughtfulness. That seed burst, spreading roots in your veins and the cavity between your ribs. Alex shifted uncomfortably under your stare, mumbling that you could have that room if you really wanted it. You shook your head.

“I see why Laswell likes you,” you said. A brief shock flashed in his eyes before he carefully schooled his face, shrugging again.

“I like to think I’m alright,” he quipped.

Acting on a rush of boldness you’d later explain away as getting into character, you deliberately looked him up and down, basking in the blush you could see rising on his cheeks. “More than alright.”

You sauntered into your room, withholding a giggle at the choked noise Alex made as you went.

“You go ahead and shower. I’ll get started on our case file,” you called. If Alex answered, you didn’t hear. But when you finished unpacking and walked into the hall, the shower was running and the bathroom door was shut.

You walked downstairs, pausing in the kitchen and debating on dinner. You weren’t really hungry, but was Alex? You’d find out when he came down. You stepped into the office, planting yourself in the desk chair and booting up the computer. Once you had it open, you considered trying to dig a little deeper into your teammate. You strained your ears; you could still hear the water running. You had at least a couple of minutes, more time than you’d need.

But something stopped you. You weren’t sure if it was a sense of owing him, or general guilt for snooping. Or maybe the hope that he’d tell you himself, someday. Either way, you opted to open the encrypted files Kate had sent instead. You were scanning everything she had on Harding when you heard Alex come down the stairs. For such a large man, he walked remarkably quietly. However, the floorboards’ soft squeaking gave him away as he stepped into the doorway.

“Looks like the club manager is one of Kate’s contacts,” you mumbled. Your chin rested in your hand, muffling your speech. “Though how, I’m not-” You turned then and promptly lost your train of thought.

Alex stood in the doorway in a grey t-shirt and a dark pair of sweats, barefoot and still damp. His hair shone, sticking up at odd angles, and the t-shirt stuck to his sculpted chest in all the most delicious places. If he noticed that you hadn’t finished your sentence, he gave no indication. He was squinting at the computer screen, leaned slightly forward.

“Hmm, seems like your run of the mill manager at least.” You were grateful that he didn’t seem to notice your fixation on his muscles, his own eyes fixed on the screen. He’d taken the few steps into the office in order to lean over your shoulder, one hand resting on the desk. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest to your back, and you took a shaky breath. You watched him scan the file out of the corner of your eye, then a grimace crossed his face. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, and you felt suddenly freezing from the loss.

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

You turned the chair, pulling your feet up and wrapping your arms around your knees. Alex was studying you, scowling as he did. He seemed to zero in on the scars beneath the sleeve of your t-shirt. You pulled on it reflexively, regardless of the fact that the sleeve wouldn’t cover anything, and watched as a guilty look crossed his face.

“I’m okay with it.”

“What happened to your arm?”

“The last guys who ran an op like this with me didn’t take it as seriously as you seem to.” Alex flinched, arms falling to his sides. His expressive eyebrows shot up, then lowered again. That adorable little furrow between them surfaced while his lips worked silently, seeming not to find the words he wanted. “I got caught because they didn’t stick to the plan. They thought they knew better. I nearly had my arm cut off.” You lifted it, showing him the straight, vertical incision scar that ran from elbow to bicep from the surgery to repair the breaks in the bone. A patch of raised, much more ragged scarring ran horizontally on the outside where the knife had torn through your flesh.

Alex’s expression was pained as he examined it, eyes finally lifting to yours. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His voice was low and determined. He was still frowning, but there was a softness to it. “Okay?”

You nodded, lowering your arm to wrap around your legs again. “Okay.” You watched each other for a long time, tilting heads one way and the other as you took each other in. Finally, Alex cocked his head over his shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get something to eat.”

You were woken the next morning by a gentle rapping on your door. When you opened it, bleary-eyed and somewhat unsteady, you found an equally groggy Alex on the other side.

“‘M gonna take a run, wanna come with?”

You nodded, yawning. “Give me five?”

He nodded, shuffling to the loft and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

You brushed your teeth and picked up a light sweater, pulling a baseball cap over your hair, and slouched into the hall. There was a murmured agreement to find coffee as you locked the safehouse, and then you were off.

The run was mostly quiet, silence broken only by the sounds of your breaths in the crisp morning air and birds twittering from the tree lines. It was comfortable. By the time you found a nice coffeehouse, taking cups out to sit at a little table on the sidewalk, you both seemed to have woken up.

“I was thinking,” began Alex.

“Sounds dangerous,” you quipped. His answering playful glare made your heart skip a beat.

“How early do you have to get to the club?” he asked.

“Eight o’clock.” When you’d opened the wardrobe in your room the night before, you’d found several “uniforms”, complete with weaponized jewelry and heels, and a slip of paper with a time and door codes. You’d glared at the outfits, hummed appreciatively at the cleverly hidden blades and USB drive, and memorized the door codes before tearing up the paper and flushing it down the toilet.

Alex hesitated. He watched his coffee as he swirled it slowly.

“You need to show up separately from me,” you said. He breathed out, nodding. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked up, unconvinced. “I have done this before, you know,” you teased. His gaze flicked quickly to and from your arm as he forced a smile.

“I know. I just don’t like the idea of letting you out of my sight.”

Your heart warmed at that, and you reached out to lay your hand on his. “It’ll be okay.”

There was some more quiet discussion about how you’d both get in and what exactly you had planned once you infiltrated Harding’s space, and then it was back to the safehouse. You both poured over all of the files Kate had sent, studying the blueprints and quizzing each other on them, and then walked to the market for lunch.

You’d found familiar foods- potatoes, hearty vegetables, and a roast small enough for two- and made your way back to the safehouse to cook. Alex had cut the vegetables while you’d seasoned the roast, finally putting it all together in a large pyrex pan to bake. As you straightened up from closing the oven, Alex asked “So how’d you get your name? ‘Trip’?”

And as though the fates had written it, you’d turned to answer him only to slip on the water you’d dripped just before when you’d washed your hands. Your arms windmilled out as you tilted backward. Before you could fall, Alex’s strong hands gripped you, one wrapping around your waist and one sliding up your spine to rest on the back of your head. He’d leapt forward, feet planted firmly on either side of you as he pulled you forward. When your chest bumped his, you looked up at him breathlessly. He hadn’t let go of you yet.

“Pretty much just like that.”

He barked a laugh, releasing his hold on you almost reluctantly. “Just like that?” “Well, no. I fell the first time.” He laughed again while you regaled him with tales of your legendary clumsiness, embellishing anything you could to make the stories even funnier than they already were.

You retreated to the library, making good on your promise to read the Dutch classics aloud as Alex listened with rapt attention. After several chapters, you paused and turned to him. He’d stretched out along the coach by the window, head pillowed on his arm. The midday sun filtered through the warped panes, casting him in a soft glow that turned his hair to honey and his eyes to the clear blue of a still lake. His eyes were fixed on you. They had been since you’d started reading and, even as the sunlight and his exhausted body tried to pull him away to sleep, they kept him tethered to wakefulness.

“Do you understand any of what I’m reading?”

“Not a word.” Your giggle made him smile.

“Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll wake you when the food’s done.” When he looked like he might protest, you tilted your head at him. “Can you honestly tell me jet lag isn’t kicking your ass right now?”

“No,” he grumbled, relenting and turning onto his back. He raised his free arm, draping it across his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired. I’m going to read.” He lowered his arm, just a bit, giving you a sidelong glance. “I haven’t flown halfway around the world and back this week,” you singsonged. Alex grunted before lowering his arm across his eyes again.

“Just… don’t let me sleep too long,” he murmured. You hummed in acknowledgement, turning your attention back to your book. You read for some time before standing, stretching, and padding up the stairs to the bathroom. You had just enough time to do your makeup before the timer in the kitchen pinged. When you peeked into the library, Alex had turned in his sleep to face the doorway. The arm that had lay across his eyes now draped across his body, nearly hanging over the side of the couch.

You called his name softly. He stirred, but didn’t open his eyes. You called him again, and he turned his face.

“Alex.” The third time you called him, his eyes snapped open. He turned his head, eyebrows raising as he took in your heavy makeup. You’d lined your eyes with black kohl, brushed on a smoky eye and three layers of mascara, and filled in your brows. You were sure you looked like a different person altogether.

He sat up, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You look great,” he rasped.

“Thanks. Dinner’s ready, you coming down?” He nodded, stretching and yawning.

“Be right there.”

You walked downstairs and were halfway through plating the food when Alex shuffled into the kitchen. You handed him a plate and gestured toward the small table in the corner. The calm quiet of the afternoon had turned foreboding and you both ate in silence. Alex offered to clean up when you were done, so you went back upstairs to get dressed. You felt tense as you did, apprehension tightening your muscles and lungs.

The “uniform” was a black fishnet body suit, skin-tight black minidress, and a pair of pumps with a two-inch platform and a six-inch heel. The only part you didn’t mind was the jewelry- a glittering silver spiked necklace and matching bracelet that you could pull pins out of as weapons if you needed to. The finishing touch was a silver ring housing a miniscule USB drive that you’d programmed yourself; once plugged in, it would copy an entire hard drive in less than five minutes. You were proud of that one.

You pulled it all on, glared at your reflection in the mirror, and applied a coat of cherry red lipstick before stalking out of your room and down the stairs. Alex stood in the entryway, fastening cufflinks in a smart black button down.

It would seem that the man’s back side was just as attractive as his front.

As he heard you come down, he looked up, body going completely still as he looked you slowly head to toe. You felt suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. The dress sported a plunging neckline, putting your cleavage on full display, and barely covered your ass. You were grateful that the fishnet bodysuit was solid black around your hips, offering you some tiny slip of modesty.

Alex looked incredibly handsome, himself. He wore a fitted black shirt, complete with a matching tie and vest. It all strained across the hard muscles of his upper body, matching the black slacks that hugged his thighs and a rounded, firm-looking ass. The jacket hung on a peg by the door, ready for him at a moment’s notice. His unruly hair looked as though he might have tried to style it, but it had sprung back to its tousled state of being. His mustache, however, had been waxed into perfect curls at the ends.

He swallowed, hard, and let out a low whistle. His pupils had blown wide, nearly eclipsing the darkened blue of his irises. “You look…” He gestured up and down, clearly coming up empty on compliments.

“Like a cheap whore?”

“No,” he snapped. His lip twitched, mustache trembling with the movement. He reached a hand forward, which you took gratefully as you descended the final few steps. The outrageous heels brought you nearly eye to eye with him, though still not quite. He looked directly at you. “You look stunning. Harding’s a madman if he doesn’t want you as soon as he lays eyes on you.”

The statement sent a shiver through you. It simultaneously ignited a fire low in your belly and a chill at the base of your spine. Alex felt it, and squeezed your hand. “But he can’t have you,” he said lowly. “I won’t let him touch you.” You offered him a shaky smile, trying to control your breathing. You considered asking whether that meant he was a madman, or that he wanted you. But there was no need for that. The heat from that particular question would keep you warm all night.

“So,” you started instead. “I look like an overpriced whore, then?”

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes and shaking you gently. “No, you do not look like a… a…” The blush that flamed up over his cheeks was so endearing that you couldn’t help reaching out to touch his cheek as you chuckled. “You just look gorgeous,” he said softly. The roots between your ribs spread out, twining more tightly into your bones and reaching toward the flesh of your chest.

You smiled. “Thank you.” Your smile faltered as you reached forward, straightening his perfectly straight collar nervously. “You sure you’re going to be able to do this?”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

You shook your head, still looking down. “No, you. I know you don’t like the plan, but… it’s a good plan. Are you going to be able to go along with it?” Alex made a confused sound. You looked up at him. “Are you going to be able to you fit in with the men there? Act like you own me, if I need you to get me out?”

Anger churned in his eyes at that. “If it’s going to keep you safe, then… yes.”

“It will,” you whispered.

As you dropped your hands, Alex’s surged up to clasp them. “Just… so long as you know that… that’s not me.”

“I know,” you said, and you were startled by how much you meant it. A sharp honk let you know that your taxi had arrived. You squeezed his hands. “I’ll see you soon?”

“One more thing.” Alex turned to the side table in the entryway, sliding open the drawer and pulling out what looked like a glittering, silver spiked ear cuff. He turned it so that you could see a cleverly concealed earpiece on the back side. He reached up, hesitating with his hands near your ear as though asking permission. You didn’t move and, ever so gently, he reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from your ear. He fiddled with the cuff until the earpiece sat just behind your earlobe. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Your throat felt suddenly dry, voice coming out in a whisper. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss if you wanted to. And you wanted to. But you pulled back, smiling a fake-bright smile, and backed toward the door. “I’ll see you soon!”

Alex leapt forward, opening the door for you. “See you soon,” he echoed. You made your way down the stairs, only turning to look back at the door when you lowered yourself into the cab and murmured the club’s address to the cabbie. Alex stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the light of the hall, until the house’s facade was no longer visible. You let out a long breath, wondering what might happen if circumstances were different.

But there was no time for that. The club was only a few minutes away from the safehouse. You made some final adjustments to your dress, trying in vain to pull it down, before resigning yourself to the lamentable length. Or lack thereof. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as the cab pulled to the curb. You thanked the cabbie, tipped him, and lifted yourself out of the back seat.

You knew there was a door set into the side of the building that led into the bar storeroom and prep kitchen. Laswell had gotten pictures of you and Alex to your contact, Luca; he knew to expect you, and what you were doing. Much to everyone’s chagrin, though, he had stressed to Kate that he would not and could not afford to acknowledge either of you. Whatever you did, it had to fly under his security’s radar. If you were to be caught, he’d have no link to you, or the CIA.

Typical.

You punched in the door code you’d memorized, holding your breath for the second it took to beep and open. When it did, you slid into the building, the clicking of your heels buried under the pounding bass as you made your way through the prep kitchen. You could hear a young man jabbering away in Dutch as you approached, critiquing the presentation of charcuterie boards and drink trays. He looked up as you approached, eyes roving over you.

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived! Good, good. Mr. Harding and his guests will be here any minute. Let me show you to his preferred room.”

“Bedankt,” you said, and Luca beamed.

“Ah, you know some of our fine language!” he crowed gleefully. He began chattering again, speaking intermittently in Dutch and English as he led you through the private rooms to one at the end of the hall. He opened the door, ushered you in, and then glanced quickly around the room.

“All of Meneer Harding’s business, he conducts from his personal laptop. He will set it there.” He pointed to a narrow shelf that jutted from the wall to cross the wraparound seating built into the sides of the room. “He demands no surveillance in this room and pays handsomely for it. He is very strict.” Luca turned to face you with a deadly serious expression.

“I strongly recommend that you do not try to plant any equipment now. He has a man who will sweep the room prior to his arrival. He is quite thorough.”

“Bedankt, Luca. We appreciate your help.”

He nodded sharply, opening the door and ushering you out with another conspicuous look at your figure as you passed him. “You will bring champagne, charcuterie, and anything else Meneer Harding requests. And if they request nothing, you dance,” he muttered. “Good luck, and Godzijdank.”

While you made your way to the bar, Luca broke off to go to his office. He must have told the bartender to expect you, because he gave you a wary look when you leaned on the bar before handing over what looked like a wristwatch. When you turned it over in your hands, you realized it was a pager. You looked up as you fastened it and the bartender pointed to a tray filled with drinks.

“Booth twelve,” he shouted. You nodded, picking up the tray and turning toward the club. Colorful lights flashed and swept across the floor in time with the throbbing bass pumping through the speakers. Bodies swayed and bounced along, packed together tightly between you and the booths across the dance floor. You straightened your shoulders, lifted the tray above your head, and set off through the throng.

You’d just broken through the bulk of dancers when the door swung wide to reveal Alex, feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart. Your breath stuttered in your lungs. He looked like he belonged here; since you’d left the safehouse, he’d managed to tame his hair. Mostly, at least. It was swept back, but not slicked to his scalp, and several carefully chosen pieces still stood upright. He’d forgone the jacket, and his all-black ensemble helped to blend his broad frame with the surrounding party-goers. His piercing gaze swept the room, landing on you for only a split second before he stalked into the room, heading for the bar.

You managed to keep your feet moving, arriving at the booth and leaning too-far forward with your chest out as you lowered the tray and passed out drinks. The men at the booth whooped, eyeing you appreciatively, but thankfully keeping their hands to themselves as you turned to go back to the bar. Alex stood at the end when you arrived, facing the dance floor. You could feel his gaze heavy on you, but each time you glanced over, he appeared for all the world to be observing the room, bobbing his head lightly along to the music.

Your pager buzzed, the number “06” flashing across the screen, and you picked up another tray of drinks. You delivered them to a table of squealing young girls who shouted that you looked good enough to eat, batted your eyelashes, and sauntered away. You didn’t see any trays when you got back to the bar, and when you looked up at the bartender, he motioned to the floor. “Dance,” he mouthed.

Before you could turn, you felt a warm body press itself to your back. “May I have this dance?” rumbled Alex. His lips brushed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine as he laid his hands on your hips. You smiled, a wide and savage smile, turning to take hold of his tie and walk backward toward the dancers, pulling him along as you went. He came willingly, swaying along with you until you were pressed together by the people around you.

You raised your hands to the back of his neck, stroking gently as his hands pulled your hips toward him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips just behind your ear. Any onlooker would think he was whispering sweet nothings or dirty secrets. Instead, he was asking “Any word on Harding?”

You turned your own head, pulling him down just enough that you could say “no” into his ear. His hands tightened involuntarily as you did, and you wondered at the goosebumps you could feel under your fingertips. Had those been there before?

After a too-brief time of dancing, your pager buzzed, flashing a bright “03”, and you grudgingly pulled free of Alex’s hold. He reached out a hand after you, and you let your fingers trail down his arm as you backed away. He watched you go, half amused and half like a lost puppy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wanted to keep you there.

You picked up a tray of drinks, made your way to the booth, delivered while your pager buzzed again, and cycled back. Half an hour of this later, with momentary excursions into the crowd to dance, and your pager flared up again. This time, the screen only flashed light at you. You looked to the door, and there was Harding. He was flanked by two burly men nearly Alex’s height, and easily just as broad. The three of them pushed through the crowds toward the private rooms, and you rushed to the bar. The bartender had already placed a bottle of champagne on a tray, complete with two crystal flutes, and bustled you off the moment you arrived.

You picked up the tray and hurried down the short hall, pausing with your hand on the doorknob before opening it and walking in. Harding looked up, eyes widening almost imperceptibly as you let your hips sway for the three steps it took to get to the low table. You smiled up through your lashes, crouching to set the tray down on the table.

“May I serve your champagne?” you asked in a low, sultry voice.

Harding leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of his seat. “You may.” He watched your every movement as you opened the bottle, giggling as the foam gushed up and over your fingers. You expertly poured a flute, extending it to him as you leaned across the table. As you did, you rested your free hand next to his laptop in an imitation of maintaining balance. You thumbed your ring, working the USB drive free and sliding it into a port on Harding’s laptop surreptitiously.

“May I bring you anything else?” You pulled your shoulders back, exposing more cleavage in a bid to hold his attention long enough that he would miss the popup on his screen. His eyes never left you, traveling slowly down your body before raising themselves back up to your face. You could barely suppress a shudder of disgust. He cocked his head slightly, leaning further back and taking his time to contemplate.

“No,” he finally said. “Not now.”

You nodded, fluttering your eyelashes, and let your hips sway provocatively as you stepped out. When you turned back to the main club, you saw Alex leaning against the bar nearest the door. The moment he saw you, he ran his tongue along his teeth and grinned wolfishly at you. You wondered what he would taste like if it was your tongue instead. You quickly shook the thought free, striding toward him. You murmured out of the corner of your mouth, hoping you could be heard by your earpiece without being seen. “Putting on a show now, are you?”

He unabashedly let his eyes roam down your frame, and you couldn’t stop the shudder you felt now. But there was no disgust in it. You barely caught his tiny nod, but you scanned the room until your attention caught on a man watching you from a booth nearby. He was young, traditionally handsome with tan skin and sun-kissed blonde hair, and well-dressed. His suit probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, and you didn’t even want to know the brand of the gold watch on his wrist. He watched you as you walked, predatory as he sipped some dark liquor from a cut glass tumbler.

Alex reached out as you passed him, standing and pulling you to his chest in one fluid motion. “I’ll put on any show I need to, I don’t like the way that guy’s looking at you.” You let him pull you into the throng, giggling loudly for effect as you pasted a smile on your face.

“My hero,” you whispered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man drain his glass and stalk toward the private rooms. Into your earpiece, you murmured “Can you see which room he’s going to?”

Alex took your hand, pulling back to blatantly admire you in what was probably meant to be a salacious observation on full display for anyone watching the two of you. He lifted your hand, spinning you and then pulling your back to his chest, deftly wrapping a hand around to rest on your abdomen while turning to face the doorway. You just caught sight of the door to Harding’s room swinging shut behind someone. Likely your admirer. You leaned back against Alex’s chest, lacing your fingers behind his neck and tilting your head back to look up at him. He was already looking down at you, the leaden blue of his irises eclipsed by his pupils. Desire. You were seeing your own desire reflected on his face.

You swallowed hard, and then your pager buzzed. Show time.

You peeled yourself from Alex’s body, tracing his reaching arm with a light fingertip and smiling coyly at him through your lashes. You picked up a tray of bottles of expensive, dark liquors- some in crystal decanters to match the cut glass tumblers- and sauntered to the private rooms.

Harding and your admirer were deep in heated conversation when you stepped through the door. Your heart sank when you realized that they weren’t speaking Dutch, but Russian. Your Russian was mediocre at best, and you just hoped Alex’s was a little less rusty. You caught stray words as you sat on your heels to pour drinks, but nothing cohesive passed your ears. All the same, your skin crawled. What little you could make out seemed heavy with slurs and threats, and neither man had become any less angry than they were when you’d arrived. You stood, reaching out to offer a glass to each of them with a wide smile pinned over your rising discomfort.

“Gentlemen,” you purred. “May I bring you anything else?”

The younger man’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist lightning fast and dragging you down into his lap. The shriek you let out was real, too real, as your heart stopped. You forced out a slightly manic giggle, trying to play off your anxiety. After all, regardless of circumstance, the action warranted some level of surprise. You just hoped he took it as nothing more than that.

He gripped your chin and turned your head, studying you. You could see him undressing you with his eyes. You were going to be sick.

“I think I have everything I want,” he drawled. You felt a sharp pinch in your arm, looking down in horror to see a needle withdrawing from the crook of your elbow. “Let’s just test this out first. See if it works like you say.” He turned back to Harding as you wrenched your arm, but he only tightened his grip. “Give me the girl for the night and you have a deal.”

“Hey,” you began, and hated how your voice shook. “What the hell was that?”

Your heart leapt into your throat before sinking to your knees. You felt a cold sweat break as white noise overtook every other sound in the room. You snapped back to yourself just as quickly, realizing that you could hear Alex whispering. “I’ve got you. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

Harding was studying the man who’d dragged you down, cocking his head back and forth. Both men ignored you as you looked between them frantically. “You know that this isn’t a strip club, Sasha. The girls here aren’t under my… jurisdiction.” His face betrayed nothing, as though he hadn’t just watched a man drug some girl in some club. You were definitely going to be sick. “You’d have to talk to the owner.”

Sasha’s lip was curling up in a sneer when a loud crash echoed through the room. You looked up to see Alex lurch in, careening with his hands held out to the sides. You could smell alcohol on him, from all the way across the room. Your heart sank and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You’d let yourself trust him. You thought he’d be different. You hadn’t pictured him getting drunk at all, let alone like this. All your hope oozed out as he swung in a haphazard circle, briefly resting his hand near the laptop before looking blearily around the small room. When his eyes landed on you, a slow grin stretched across his mouth as he raised his hands lazily.

“There she is!” he slurred, stumbling in your direction and wrapping large, warm hands gently around your wrists. He unceremoniously dragged you up, forcing Sasha to let go, and pulled you straight to his chest.

And then he kissed you. Soundly.

Whatever you’d expected, it wasn’t this.

But he didn’t taste like alcohol. Through the haze of confusion and terror and shock, you felt an overwhelming sweep of relief. Your hands involuntarily shot up to cradle his jaw as he attacked your mouth, like a parched man who’d just found water. His hands clutched at your waist, pulling your body to his tightly as he leaned toward you. The kiss was sloppy, far overdone for your audience, a tangle of tongues and teeth, but still it took your breath away. You ran a hand down the side of his neck as you tilted your head, pressing yourself further forward into the safety of his arms. His tie and the collar of his shirt were soaked under your hand. He must have poured a drink on himself to seem more drunk. You gasped, and Alex swallowed it, offering up the tiniest moan in return. The roots shot through the surface of your skin.

You felt tears burn the back of your eyes, hope swell in your lungs. You didn’t know which of you had slowed down first, but the kiss had become tender. With every brush of his lips, you could feel as much as you could hear “I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you”. The flower buds tickled at your chest, begging to push through the soil of your skin into the sunlight that was this man. The inexplicable draw you’d felt to him since that first meeting at Langley, the safety, the trust, it all came flooding up. It wasn’t enough to drown the abject fear you felt in the moment, but it met it head on, keeping it from suffocating you. Holding it at bay.

You heard Harding clear his throat impatiently, and pulled back, giggling. Alex chased you, placing two more feather light kisses at the corner of your mouth. Suddenly, whatever you’d been injected with hit you like a train. The room seemed blurry, and kept spinning even once you knew your head had stopped moving. And your head. It felt so, so heavy. You couldn’t focus, could barely keep your feet under you. You clutched at Alex’s shirt front, willing your body to cooperate. It took you too long to realize that he was speaking, and you knew it more from the rumble under your palm than the sound of his voice. He sounded underwater. Other people were speaking, too. And they sounded underwater.

Then you were moving, half walking and half being carried out of the room and down a hall. It was bright. Too bright. And so loud. You looked at Alex, who was now watching you with a wildness that took you a moment to place. Raw, helpless panic. “Sweetheart?” he was saying, but the word sounded funny. Sweet as molasses and just as thick in the distorted realm you walked.

“Drugged,” you managed, a strangled croak pushing through your throat. “He drugged… me.” You thought you heard cursing, and then your feet weren’t holding you up any more. Your body floated into a place not so loud, not so hot- quite chilly, actually- and when you turned your head, you weren’t floating. Your cheek rested over Alex’s thundering heart as he ran. You reached up a limp hand, barely managing to stroke it down his temple. “Y’re so… pretty.”

You closed your eyes and slipped into blackness.

You came back slowly, wading through a haze of voices and beeping and clattering. When you managed to peel open your eyes, you saw a dark room and a man half sitting, half laying across your bed. There was a moment of near-violent alarm before you recognized Alex’s unruly head of hair. He was sleeping, face turned away from you on the edge of the bed, and one arm lay draped over your waist. The other was tucked to his chest, and you noticed with a jolt that he was holding your hand, his thumb resting lightly over your pulse.

You took a moment to inventory your feelings. Your blood still sang with a vicious flight response, but you’d managed to compartmentalize for the mission. You had no idea how Alex had gotten you both out of there, but you didn’t care. You were grateful. The kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to memorize all the best parts of how that kiss had felt. In the moment, it had grounded you. Surprised you enough that you could tamp down your feelings.

Alex’s file flashed across your minds’ eye. Intentional. Disappointment bubbled up in your throat before being swept over with thankfulness. He’d kissed you as a distraction, to both you and the room. To get you out of a bad situation. Nothing more.

You didn’t even know why you were wishing it was more. You’d known this man for only days. Yet something in you reached out for him. You wanted to know him more. You’d built more trust in him in these days than in anyone else in the years since that fateful mission. Well, more than anyone except Kate. Maybe. You smiled to yourself as it dawned on you that Kate knew exactly what she was doing, putting the two of you together. She knew you needed him. Unbidden, Alex’s file leapt back into your mind. Delta.

What happened to you, sweet boy? Could you need me, too?

Unconsciously, you reached across your body to thread your fingers through Alex’s hair. The moment you made contact, his body went rigid. That split second stretched into a lifetime as you remembered the way he’d snapped awake in the plane, and again from the safehouse couch. You froze, but there was no fear. When time came back to itself, within the same second you’d touched him, he relaxed. His grip on your wrist tightened, just a bit, thumb pressing down on your pulse. He sucked in a breath and slowly, carefully, turned his head to look at you.

His eyes scanned over your face, and you weren’t sure if you imagined that they lingered just a bit longer on your lips before meeting your gaze. You quirked up one corner of your mouth in a tiny smile and it was like a dam broke.

The breath Alex had taken in came shuddering out as he raised his hand from your waist to your cheek. He half stood, hovering and squeezing the hand he still held. His thumb trembled as it skimmed across your skin and you recognized that he was shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. He leaned further forward, pressing his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay,” you started, but he’d pulled back and was shaking his head. He sank to his knees at the side of the bed, clasping your hand in both of his and drawing it to his lips.

“I failed you,” he said simply. You couldn’t picture the look on your face in that moment. You just knew you must look like something out of a cartoon with the way you felt your mouth and eyebrows twist in disbelief.

“And how do you suppose…?”

Alex’s eyes flashed. “You were hurt because of me. I should have pushed back about this whole plan, I should have figured something else out. It should have been me.”

Your heart clenched. With a pang, you recognized something for which you had no proof but the undeniable comprehension that filled you. Survivor’s guilt.

“Almost,” you whispered. Alex’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching up to smooth your thumb over the skin. It disappeared the moment your fingertips brushed against it, and Alex leaned into your touch. “I almost got hurt. You stopped that from happening.”

He didn’t look convinced. You both watched each other for several long minutes. His eyes kept skimming your lips, and you were sure yours did the same. “I had no right to kiss you,” he finally murmured, and you blinked in surprise. He’d dropped his gaze, looking away as his cheeks burned with shame. You raised a hand, turning his face back toward you. He looked up reluctantly when you held him there.

“That kiss saved me from… from…” You gulped, suddenly trembling all over again. Alex made gentle hushing sounds, raising himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached for both of your shoulders, rubbing them lightly. You debated with yourself for only a moment before launching up to hug him. He let out a grunt at the force of your contact, but his arms came up around you, cradling you to his chest as sobs wracked your body.

You’d managed to put it from your mind, mostly. Now terror and revulsion and dread and fear and fear and fear crashed down, rattling through your lungs and threading through your veins like ice. You sobbed, and Alex rocked you, humming and hushing and holding as you broke down, kept together only by his firm grip on you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, clutching him as though for dear life, but when you opened your eyes again, the sun was blazing on the horizon.

You squeezed his broad shoulders, and he squeezed your waist. You took a moment, finally calm, to run your hands over the planes of his back. Hard muscle clenched under your touch before your hands settled on his shoulders, still wrapped under his arms. You weren’t ready to let go quite yet.

“How’d you do it, anyway?”

You felt, more than heard, his answering hum. You turned your head, tucking your nose under his jaw. He inhaled sharply and you traced a line to the back of his ear, speaking with your lips at the place the two met. “How’d you get me out?”

“I,” he said, and his voice came out somewhat strangled. His arms pulled you the tiniest bit closer as he cleared his throat. “I may have, um. Told them that, uh, that I’d already paid for you for the night.”

You pulled back, blinking at him. His hold on you loosened, but his hands still rested between your shoulder blades. He seemed nervous. You smiled at him, hoping to ease his nerves. “And they accepted that?”

He scoffed. “Almost didn’t. Harding didn’t seem to care, but the asshole who had his filthy hands on you,” his own hands tightened here “said he’d buy me out.”

You raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Alex’s eyes softened considerably, and he raised one hand to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told him I’d made up my mind about you and no amount of money could change it.” You smiled at each other then, and your eyes dropped to his lips. When you looked back up, he was watching you intently. “He wasn’t too pleased with that, but… Harding, actually told him to cool it. No weapons in the club, don’t jeopardize the operation over…” here he stopped, looking away in obvious disgust. “I knew something was wrong when I tried to take you out, but I didn’t know what.”

You took in a deep breath, looking down. “What was it?” Your voice sounded small to your own ears. Alex didn’t answer right away. When you looked up, he seemed fixed on a point on the wall.

“Ketamine,” he said softly. Your body convulsed then, a fresh wave of icy terror sweeping over you. Alex hauled you forward until you were practically in his lap, rocking you again and stroking your hair. I’ve got you I’ve got you I’ve got you.

“Tell me you got the USB,” you said through clenched teeth.

“I got it,” he answered. “Harding, that scumbag, the whole operation- it was all on that file. The Amsterdam team already locked up the asshole who had you. Harding’s next. You did so good, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

You cried again, crawling as far into him as you could. You tried to silence your mind. Nothing happened, you reminded yourself. Nothing happened.

You cried until a nurse came to release you, then managed to pull yourself together enough to get dressed with Alex watching the door, close enough to touch through the thin material of the curtain that separated you. The hospital had given you a plain grey sweatsuit, which you’d gratefully donned without bothering to put on your underwear. You’d put the jewelry in a bag to go back to Langley, but the mini dress and fishnet body suit and everything underneath had been bundled up and handed to Alex to be thrown away. He’d done it for you gladly.

You gripped his hand the whole taxi ride back, and he’d wrapped an arm around your shoulders protectively. He’d carried the jewelry bag, stuffing it into the entry table drawer in passing. Halfway up the stairs, when you stumbled from a wave of nausea you’d half been expecting, he swept you up as though it was a perfectly natural occurrence and carried you to the bathroom. When you’d collected sleep clothes and makeup remover, he turned to leave. When your hand shot out to grab his, he nodded and perched himself on the toilet to watch you take off your makeup.

You didn’t have to say a word.

When your hand shook so badly that you had to stop, leaning against the sink, he stood, silently taking the makeup wipe from your hands. With the softest touch you’d ever felt, he tiled your chin up and wiped at your eyes, intermittently stopping to re-fold the wipe in search of a patch not streaked with black.

“Where do you want me?” he asked when he was done.

You glanced around the small room, grasping your elbow. “You can go, I’ll be okay.” He watched you, giving you time to change your mind, and then nodded, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. You stood for several moments before turning on the shower, anxious all over again. The steaming water did little to calm your nerves, and you scrubbed yourself raw in an effort to wash away the dread that had woven into your skin.

When you’d finally stepped out, opening the door to let steam pour into the hall, there was Alex. He sat against the opposite wall, head in his hands, and looked up when you stepped out. He offered a weak smile in your direction. “Feel any better?” You shrugged, but nodded. He looked down at where you still held your elbows and pushed himself to his feet. You abruptly felt horribly selfish. The circles under his eyes had darkened again and he looked pale. His tie was loose, askew, and he still wore the vest, although the buttons were all undone. His shirt had come partially untucked and you were certain the dress pants and shoes were less than comfortable. How long had he stayed up with you? You’d been hospitalized overnight, sleeping off the effects of the drug. Had he eaten anything since your dinner together the day before?

“Are you hungry?” you blurted out. His mustache twitched, betraying the amusement he felt.

“Not really. Are you?”

You shook your head. You noticed the clean clothes in his hands for the first time, and that wave of selfishness passed over you again. “You should shower.”

“You can come, if you want.” Your head snapped up, but there was nothing teasing in his tone or gaze. He seemed to think you weren’t pleased by this, because he rushed to say “I just mean if you don’t want to be alone.”

You looked down. “I don’t,” you said quietly.

Alex reached a hand toward you. “Then c’mere.” He pulled you into the bathroom, leaving the hall door open, and lifted you by your waist onto the countertop. He opened your toiletry bag, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He turned on the tap, running your toothbrush under the stream of water, and then squeezed out a perfect stripe of toothpaste. Your eyes filled with tears when he presented it to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took it. He smiled, squeezed your shoulder, and turned to undress. You looked out into the hall, allowing yourself just one glance as he pulled the dress shirt off and dropped it to the sides. The muscles in his arms rippled under the dark lines of his tattoos, and you found yourself surprised that he didn’t have more covering his torso. His shoulders were a wide, blank canvas marked only by faded white scars.

You turned quickly away, cheeks heating with guilt. He’d let you in here to calm yourself, not to ogle him. He showered much more quickly than you had, turning off the faucet as you spat your toothpaste into the sink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arm as he reached for his towel, pulling it back behind the curtain.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” you said, stepping into the hall. You left the door cracked, pressing your back against the wall beside it and tilting your head back as you waited. You counted the seconds to keep your mind calm, and Alex emerged at 104. Like that first night in the safehouse, his hair was wild and his t-shirt clung to his damp skin. White this time, revealing a single tattoo on his chest above his heart. You couldn’t see clearly what it was, but you thought you saw something vaguely triangular. He smiled when his eyes rested on you and you offered a shaky smile back. “You look tired.”

He stretched his neck, reaching up to run a hand down his face. “Yeah.” He said simply. “Are you?” You nodded. He tilted his head toward your rooms, stepping forward. “C’mon, then.”

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, fingers wrapping around his bicep. Alex looked down sharply, concern etching his features.

You found that you didn’t know what to say. His face softened as he watched you, patiently waiting for you to find the words you wanted. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

He visibly melted, nodding. “Of course.” Blooms burst from the stems that rose from your skin, turning toward him like sunflowers to the sun. When you didn’t move, he offered you his hand. You took it, reveling in the warmth of his palm as he led you to his bed. You crawled across the narrow space, pressing yourself as close to the wall as you could.

Nerves sprung up as Alex deposited his clothes on the floor before sitting. He was a large man, and this bed was only meant for one person. He was already so tired, you couldn’t possibly keep him from sleeping well again, you had to tell him you’d be okay on your own, you had to-

“Stop thinking so loud.” Alex had stretched out, turning to you and waiting for you to lift your head so that he could rest his arm there. You did, and he scooted closer once you rested your cheek on his bicep. You didn’t move for a moment, too ashamed for taking even more than what he’d already given you. He reached around you, tugging you forward until your body was flush with his and your legs tangled together. You were so close that your nose rested on top of his, and one hand lay against his chest while the other toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Thank you,” you whispered. In the darkness, you could only see a slight shine where his eyes were.

“Of course,” he murmured. His lips brushed yours as they formed the vowels. Your heart skipped a beat. He closed his eyes, and after a time, his breathing evened out and you thought he’d fallen asleep. Then he whispered, so softly that you almost thought you’d imagined it, “I want you here.”

You opened your eyes to see a pale sliver of moonlight illuminating a strip of his face. His eyes were on your lips, but they flicked up when yours opened.

You hardly even had to tilt your head, more leaning than actual movement. You pressed your lips to his, and the instant they touched he whimpered softly. Slowly, carefully, you slid your lips against his. You let your fingertips slide under the hem of his t-shirt, smiling against his mouth at the goosebumps that broke out across his skin. You traced the taut muscles of his abdomen as your tongue slid into his mouth, tracing patterns against his in a slow dance.

Alex was perfectly still, save for kissing you back. His hands hadn’t moved, one flat against the small of your back and one on the pillow somewhere behind your head, and suddenly you worried that you had overstepped. You flinched back, Alex involuntarily following you forward as his eyes snapped open.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He was panting lightly, clearly trying to hide it. He licked his lips. “For what?”

“Kissing you, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel used.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile. Finally, the hand on your waist lifted to cup your cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me. For anything.” His expression turned serious and he cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve… I’ve been used for much worse. This is… this is a nice change.”

Delta flashed through your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. His thumb skimmed your lips, your nose, and the apple of your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his soft lips. He sighed into it, hand sliding down your side to your waist once more. He tugged you ever so slightly closer as you tucked your nose under his, lips still a hairs’ breadth apart. You slept soundly that night.

Two years later

You stood at the airport terminal, tapping your foot in excitement and anticipation.

Alex was coming home.

Amsterdam had been the start of a new routine for you both. He’d had to fly straight back to his post in Bahrain, but he hadn’t left without your number. You’d scribbled it in a tiny space of blank skin on his wrist, just below a line of barbed wire. You’d nearly added a heart, but worried at the last moment that it would be too intimate and instead settled on a poorly drawn shoelace, haphazardly tied around the barbed wire.

Alex had come back from that assignment with an addition to his sleeve that no one else was likely to notice. But you noticed.

You had picked him up from the airport then, too, and you’d stayed up all night, talking about everything from Alex‘s assignment that he was able to share and everything you had done in the time since. It hadn’t been much. Despite therapy, a strict gym routine, and a full plate at work (your director was thrilled to have you back), you’d been having nightmares. And early the next morning when you’d woken up on the couch where you'd fallen asleep, gasping for air and desperately trying to blink away the image of Sasha your subconscious had dredged up, Alex had pulled you into his lap and hushed you, stroking your hair and rocking gently.

“He’ll never hurt anyone again, angel. None of them are ever getting out, and it’s all because of you. You were so brave.”

You’d made each other house keys later that day. You’d joked weeks later that he should give up his apartment, seeing as he spent most nights at your townhouse anyway. He didn’t, and the change of scenery when you both stayed there was nice. You were particularly grateful when he was gone- staying there, surrounded by him, helped ease his absence- but you still felt just a bit of disappointment. You’d been joking, but you would have let him move in without a moment’s hesitation if he’d said yes.

Since the first time you’d picked him up, there hadn’t been a day that Alex was stateside that you hadn’t seen each other. This assignment had been the longest, and with the least contact. He’d been gone for nearly three months and you’d only heard from him twice- once to tell you he’d landed and once to tell you his flight information to come home.

You’d arrived at the airport half an hour before the time he’d given you, too impatient to spend the time flitting uselessly around your townhouse. Dinner was in the oven, the pantry was overfilled with snacks, and you’d made gallons of the sweet tea Alex was so fond of. Your spare room was ready with clean sheets and a lavender oil diffuser, and you’d laid out his favorite plaid pajama pants on the bathroom counter. You’d smiled to yourself as you fingered the soft material. Sometime in the early weeks of staying together, Alex had emerged from his room wearing them with one of the tank tops he usually wore to the gym.

“Oh, so we’re working out now?” you’d teased. You were curled up on the couch, flipping through channels in search of a good movie. Alex hadn’t answered right away, and you looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I, uh. I don’t really have too many t-shirts,” he’d mumbled. He shrugged at your incredulous look. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Never really worn a shirt around here.”

You’d felt the heat rising in your cheeks as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “So then take it off.” Flustering Alex never ceased to amuse you, and didn’t fail now as his cheeks flushed red.

“You’re… you’d be okay with that?” You leveled a stare at him as if to ask “seriously?” and he shifted his weight, debating. After a few seconds, he reached for the back of the shirt and tugged it off. You stared openly at him. You’d assumed he’d be gorgeous, had imagined it, but your fantasies couldn’t compare to reality. Your eyes had gone first to the solitary tattoo on his chest- a dagger through the center of an open triangle with a lightning bolt on one end. Then they’d followed the trail of hair that led down and fastened on the lines of muscles along his hips. Your mouth watered. You wanted to touch them, run your tongue along them. They clenched as Alex shifted again, clearing his throat, and you looked up to see him looking, of all things, self-conscious. You let out a low, long wolf-whistle and he huffed lightly. “Hush up with all that,” he grumbled good-naturedly, dropping onto the couch and pulling you into his side. “Although I suppose I should expect it. You did call me pretty once, after all.” Your cheeks had flamed, but the outcome had been more than worth the momentary embarrassment. He’d slowly stopped wearing shirts to bed, in either of your homes, and you’d done your level best to keep your ogling to a minimum.

The tram slid into the station and you held your breath, as you’d been doing every time it arrived.

Your eyes landed on a tall head of messy brown hair, just over the top of the crowd. Your grin widened until you were sure it would split your face. You watched Alex step onto the escalator, searching the crowd for you.

You held up the houndstooth scarf he’d given you before he left for his first new assignment after Amsterdam. “Something to remember me by,” he’d said, fingers catching on the tassels even as he pressed it into your hands. As if you could ever forget him.

You caught sight of the matching scarf he wore, the one you’d given him at the airport when he’d come back from that assignment. Then his eyes met yours and he lifted his hand, offering a weak attempt to meet your smile. Your heart sank. He looked haunted, and exhausted. The circles under his eyes were far, far worse than any you’d seen before. He looked thinner, and there was a vacancy in his eyes that hurt your soul to see.

You pushed through the crowd when you saw him tap the shoulder of the man in front of him, making his way down as fast as he could. You broke through the last line of people just as his boots hit the floor and you sprinted the two steps between you to launch yourself into his arms. He wrapped you up like you weighed nothing, lifting you off your feet in a bone-crushing hug. You lifted one hand to run through the hair at the back of his head as he held you.

As if they were miles away, you heard passers-by coo. You paid them no mind but the common courtesy to not wrap your legs around Alex’s waist in such a public place, instead dangling from his hold by your arms around his neck. You asked nothing, and he offered nothing. When he put you down, he smiled. It wasn’t his usual mirthful, bright, Alex smile. But it was better.

“Can I stay with you for a couple of days?” he murmured.

“Silly man. Of course you can.” You trailed one hand to his cheek. He leaned in, then turned his head to kiss your palm. Goosebumps broke out over your skin. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

He was quiet for the drive, only clasping your free hand in both of his lightly. At home, you ushered him off to shower while you finished dinner. When he stepped into the kitchen, still damp the way you hated to be, you dropped the spoon in your hand.

“Alex,” you choked out. He had lost a notable amount of weight, but that wasn’t what held your focus. Angry marks ran down his torso, ranging in severity from scrapes and bruises of varying colors to a deep gash across his lower abdomen that wrapped around his side. You stumbled toward him, nearly losing your footing in your rush, and he sprang forward to catch you. Your fingertips ran gently over the gash across in his side and he hissed quietly, muscles tensing. “Sorry,” you whispered, still surveying the damage. He’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt when you picked him up, but now you could see more cuts and bruises on his arms, even beneath the heavy line work of his tattoos.

Tears filled your eyes as your hands hovered just over his skin, afraid to touch him lest he break.

“I’m okay,” he said. He didn’t reach for you, allowing you to inventory his wounds. “It’ll heal.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Come on,” you said softly. You led him to the bathroom, sat him down on the toilet, and collected your first aid kit. You perched on his knee, trying to keep the majority of your weight off of him. He chuckled as you wavered, struggling to keep your balance.

“You won’t break me.” He rested a hand on your hip as you relaxed your stance. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, only occasionally flinching as you applied salve and bandages to the worst of the cuts.

After dinner, you turned on reruns of an old sitcom with the volume low and dozed on the couch. At some point, you roused when you felt Alex lift you up.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me,” you said sleepily. Alex made a dismissive noise, nudging open your bedroom door and crawling into your bed with you still in his arms. You fell asleep that night laying on his chest with his heartbeat in your ear.

It was weeks later that you jumped awake when you heard Alex yelling, flying up and down the hall to his room. You could see him thrashing in the moonlight that shone through the window. You called his name, but to no avail- he couldn’t hear you through whatever he heard in his nightmare. You turned on the light and then knelt on the bed to grab his wrist. Instantly, he flew forward. He had you pinned to the foot of the bed before you could blink, one arm holding down your midsection while the other hand wrapped around your throat.

You froze, banishing the fear that pricked the back of your mind. You took a deep breath as the wildess in his eyes faded, making way for horror. He scrambled backward until his back forcibly hit the headboard, eyes fixed on you as he whispered your name.

“Did I hurt you? Oh, God, if I hurt you…” His voice and body shook violently, and he scrabbled at the sheets in a full-blown panic. You’d sprung up as soon as he’d let you go, crawling toward him and reaching out.

“You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay, Alex. You’re okay. Come here.”

“No!” he shouted. He seemed to shrink even further back against the headboard, shaking his head frantically. You paused. “No,” he whispered. “I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

You crawled the rest of the way to him, still with one hand outstretched. You laid it on his cheek as you crept toward him until your knees straddled his hips. You pressed as close as you could, wrapping your arms around him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, desperate to reach up. To take the comfort you offered. To touch you. But he wouldn’t.

“You didn’t hurt me,” you repeated. You took one of his shaking hands in yours, raising it to your throat where it had been a moment before. Alex shuddered violently. “Look.” Gently, you pried open his fingers until they lay flat against your skin, and you dragged them down to rest over your heart. “I’m right here, and I’m okay. Okay? You didn’t hurt me. It’s my own fault, I know better. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

He was shaking his head, nearly incoherent in anguish. “No, no, it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

You grasped his head firmly. “Stop,” you whispered. “It’s no one’s fault, then. Okay? Everything is okay.”

Alex sobbed, finally leaning up to tug you closer, tucking his face into your neck. “You would never hurt me,” you repeated. You lifted your hands to his head and scratched lightly at his scalp. “My sweet Alex, you could never hurt me.”

For all the post-assignment nights you’d both had, you’d never seen Alex cry. It was a strange experience, and it broke your heart. He made practically no sound, but the force with which his body shook made the whole bed vibrate. You tightened your grip on him, tilting his head up to yours. He wouldn’t meet your gaze; his eyes were half-lidded, red-rimmed, and fixed on your mouth. You leaned down and he sucked in a breath. Just before your lips touched his, he whispered in a strangled voice. “Don’t.” You froze. “You can’t kiss me.” The roots beneath your skin splintered, breaking apart from each other.

There hadn’t been any more kisses, or discussions of kisses past, since Amsterdam. You’d tried to bury the attraction you felt, the longing to be near him, but you’d come to hope that it was returned. You knew, at least, that your presence was equally wanted. But in this moment, Alex was uncommonly still, eyes closed. Your heart had stopped beating. You leaned back, watching his face for any hint as to what he was feeling. Anything that might lessen the shock. You saw only pain there.

You had horribly misjudged his feelings, horribly misjudged the situation. You wanted to bring him comfort, of course, but you also wanted to show him your heart. To know his heart for you. You’d been selfish. Bile raced up the back of your throat, threatening to come out as you began to raise yourself up on your knees. The moment your hands left his head, though, Alex’s eyes snapped open.

“Wait,” he breathed. He lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at the backs of your thighs.

You could feel tears stinging your eyes. Shame and rejection and despair pumped themselves through your veins with every hard thump of your heart. “I’m sorry-” you began.

Alex had drawn in a deep breath. Now, he cut you off. “You can’t kiss me because I want to kiss you,” he blurted out. That stopped you dead in your tracks. He had looked back to your mouth now. One thumb stroked along your bottom lip as he swallowed, hard. “I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

Intentional flashed through your mind in a whole new light, this time.

A breathless laugh escaped you at that. “Well I want to kiss you, too. So why can’t I?”

Alex tore his eyes up with a visible effort. He cleared his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you every day since Amsterdam,” he said solemnly. You felt your heart soar up, up, and away from you. “I didn’t want to stop kissing you in Amsterdam.”

You lowered yourself back to his lap, stroking his hair and the cuts in it. On a balmy night that you’d slept on your balcony, when his head had been in your lap and you’d traced the scars, he’d told you he’d gotten them when he nearly died. “Explosion launched a piece of metal straight at me. Cut right down to the skull. They didn’t think I was going to wake up.” You shook the memory away.

“Then why did you?” you whispered.

Alex was watching your mouth again. “I didn’t want you to think I wanted you just because of the outfit, or that… that I’d kissed you in the club just to kiss you, just because I could.” His voice dropped as his eyes fluttered closed. “But God, did I want to. I didn’t want to stop.” Chills broke out over your skin. His eyes snapped open, blazing with resolve. “I wanted you to want to kiss me. I need you to want me.”

You lowered yourself further, stroking your thumbs up from the tips of his mustache to the tops of his cheekbones. “You didn’t think I wanted to kiss you when I kissed you that night? Didn’t think I’ve wanted you all this time since?”

“I… I thought you just wanted comfort. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me.” The hurt must have flashed across your face, because Alex leaned forward, cupping your cheek and pulling you closer to him by your waist. “I didn’t care. If all you ever wanted from me was comfort, I’d give it gladly without expecting anything in return. And… I had hoped. Since then.” A blush had risen in his cheeks then. “That what I was feeling wasn’t one-sided. I thought maybe, but…”

“I do want to kiss you,” you murmured. “And what you’re feeling is definitely not one-sided.”

He made a pained sound, leaning up seemingly against his own will until his lips barely brushed yours. “Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

“I’m not.”

There was a beat of stillness before he closed the distance, sealing your mouths together. His tongue seared a trail along the seam of your lips until you parted them for him, and it was like a switch flipped. His body came alive; hands roamed along your back as he alternately gripped your sides and pulled you closer; his chest heaved under your touch. He finally settled on squeezing the tops of your thighs while you tugged at his hair and moved against him, eliciting soft gasps and moans from both of you. The marks across his body had healed, leaving new scars in their places. You danced your fingertips along his bare collarbones, across the Delta team tattoo over his heart, over the scars and down his sculpted pecs and toned abs, drawing out a groan from him when you met the waistband of his pajamas.

“Wait,” he rasped. You waited, stroking the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button. He shuddered under your touch, cursed, and reached down to still your hand as he exerted visible self-control to look up at you. You blinked innocently at him. “You make it so hard to concentrate,” he said mildly, though his pupils were blown wide as his eyes roamed over your face. You giggled at that, which drew out a smile. He met your gaze briefly before looking away and clearing his throat again.

“I love you.” Every root in your body, every space along the stems along your skin and wrapped around your bones, burst forth in uncontrollable buds. You held your breath. “And I don’t expect… nothing has to change. If you don’t, that’s okay. I’ll still give you whatever you want-”

Your heart constricted painfully. You laid a gentle finger against his lips, drawing his attention from the floor. “I would never use you like that,” you said softly. You took in a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for a long time. Since Amsterdam, at least.” Breath had rushed out of him. His face glowed as he looked up at you in adoration.

“At least?” he breathed, teasing even in his disbelief. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. It might have been since you stepped between Kate and I.”

His eyes shone at that. A darkness descended, though, clouding his gaze. “And you’re not… I don’t…” You understood what he couldn’t say. You lifted his chin.

“You do not scare me,” you said firmly. He swallowed, looking away, and you wiggled his chin to get him to look back at you. “You would never, never hurt me, Alex. I’ve never felt as safe as I feel with you.” He nodded slowly. You leaned forward, pressing him back against the headboard to kiss him hard. You took control, and he let you. You poured all of your longing, love, desire, and reassurance into the kiss, leaning heavily against him as your mouths moved. Your hands were all over him, tracing scars and tattoos and patterns only you could see.

His hands crept under your shirt, skimming your sides until they rested between your shoulder blades. He squeezed lightly, leaning forward to deepen the kiss. He tilted his head and you let your hands brush down his ribs to trace the beginnings of the v-cut you’d always wanted to touch. You dipped your fingertips beneath the band of his pajamas and he lurched forward, breath leaving in a rush as though he’d been punched.

“Wait,” he gasped again, hands flying to your hips.

You huffed out an amused sound. “You know, if you keep stopping me like this, I’m going to worry that you don’t actually want me.”

Alex tugged your hips against his, wiping the smirk from your face as he leaned forward. His face had flushed cherry red, and the uncertainty with which he spoke was preciously endearing. “I think that you can feel perfectly well that that’s not true,” he murmured. And oh, goodness, could you.

You hummed in agreement, grinding your hips down on the proof of his desire. Alex groaned, grip tightening and face reddening even further. “I’ll never say no to you,” he ground out. That piqued your interest. You relented, sitting back to look at him curiously. “But I just… I didn’t want our first time to be… I’d never imagined…” His voice softened as he trailed off, eyes flitting to the foot of the bed. He didn’t want it to happen in the wake of his remorse, weighed by his inner turmoil.

You felt your heart melt. You’ve imagined this?

Your hand flew to your mouth when Alex’s darkening gaze told you you’d spoken aloud. His voice was gravel when he spoke. “Yes.” One hand stroked the scars on your arm, the other the side of your throat. “There’s a reason I usually get up before you.”

“Oh,” you said. And you realized, with a start, that he usually did. Ohhh. He was looking down now, shame coloring his cheeks. Anticipation lit beneath your skin, tempered only by the exhaustion evident on his face. You tilted his chin up. “I’ve imagined it, too.” He twitched beneath you, face a display of utter shock. You traced the shadows beneath his eyes tenderly.

“Take me to bed,” you whispered. “We’ll sleep tonight. Our first time can be any time you want, however you’ve imagined it.” A slow smile spread over Alex’s face.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. Then he abruptly stood with you still in his lap, wrapped your legs around him, and carried you shrieking down the hall to your bed.

The first time was the next morning, slow and soft as the sun breaking on the horizon. It was just as gentle, adoring, and attentive as you’d come to expect from Alex. Lush, languid, loving.

“Just like you’ve imagined?”

“Mhmm. And so much better.”

The next time was at Alex’s apartment as you packed his things the morning after that, half on the couch and eventually on the floor. Giggling, silly, and so natural. Just like you’d imagined.

Then there were the gym showers after he’d benched nearly his body weight. You’d teased him for too long, straddling him and giggling as you leaned down to whisper filthy things in his ear. He’d given up halfway through his set after nearly dropping the bar on his face, hauling you furtively to the locker rooms. Neither of you had quite imagined that.

The week Alex let his apartment go, you literally ran into Kate in the Langley halls, nearly spilling both of your coffees and successfully scattering the files she’d been holding.

“Trip,” she greeted warmly. “Living up to your name, I see.” She waved off your profuse apologies, walking with you and asking about how you’d been since you last spoke some weeks ago. “I see Alex changed his mailing address,” she said with a sly smile.

You raised your eyebrows, faux innocence dripping from your voice. “Oh? Was it unexpected?”

“No. In fact, it was quite expected.” She was beyond pleased, barely containing her smile before walking into her briefing. She took your hand just before you turned toward the elevators. “You’re so good for each other.” You’d smiled for the rest of the day, thrilled to have been right about her intentions. You couldn’t wait to tell Alex.

When you got home that afternoon, he wasn’t there, but there was a note on the island. “Gonna be late, dinner at 7?” There was an address for a fancy restaurant just a few blocks away that you’d mentioned wanting to try. You smiled, walked into your bedroom, and smiled even wider when you saw the dress and heels he’d set out for you. The dress was a rich, sapphire blue satin you’d bought some months back for a wedding that was unexpectedly canceled. You’d whined to Alex that you’d have to return it without ever having worn it and he’d insisted you keep it. “I promise you I can find some occasion for you to wear it,” he’d said.

You showered, re-did your makeup, and then slid the dress on. The sleeves fit tightly to your elbows, covering your scars, before flaring into bells that draped past your knees. The back was open all the way down, and a provocative slit up the side showed off most of your thigh. Alex hadn’t seen it on you yet, and you were eager to see his reaction. You’d learned since that first morning that he loved your thighs, something that was particularly delightful to you. You pulled on the silver pumps, considered a wrap, and decided against it. The weather report showed a warm evening with only a slight breeze.

You thought about taking your car, but decided not to when you saw that Alex’s was gone. It wasn’t so warm that you’d be sweaty by the time you got there, and it wasn’t so far that your feet would hurt, even in your heels. You fixed your hair, took one last look in the mirror, and set off.

The streets of D.C. were as lively as ever; people bustled up and down the sidewalk, taxis honked at each other, birds chirped, and you could hear children laughing from the park across the street. You smiled to yourself, grateful that you loved your city. When you reached the restaurant, you paused to admire the plate glass windows and gothic architecture before walking in.

Your eyebrows shot up when a doorman swung the door open, bowing slightly as you walked past. You murmured your thanks before approaching the maître d', an elderly gentleman in a tux who greeted you with a stiff bow and a warm smile.

“Good evening, my dear. Do you have a reservation?”

“I believe so,” you said, sure that Alex had thought this far ahead. “Seven o’clock for Alex Keller?” The maître d's face lit up and he extended his arm to you.

“Ah, yes! Mr. Keller. He asked me to seat you upon arrival and extend his deepest apologies for his tardiness; he shall arrive presently.”

You pursed your lips, trying to hide your smile. “Thank you so much.”

“But of course! May I interest you in anything to drink while you wait? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

“Um,” you began, and it was the maître d's turn to hide a smile at your ineloquence. “Could I just have a glass of water, please?”

You’d reached a table at the far side of the restaurant, just against a wall filled with expensive-looking, tasteful art. The maître d’ pulled out your chair, lowering you into it and nodding emphatically. “One glass of water, in just one moment.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. You took the opportunity to peer around the restaurant, noting the chandeliers and formally dressed staff. You wondered, vaguely, whether Alex had something up his sleeve or whether he’d just picked the place because you’d been interested. Or whether he’d picked it for an excuse to get you into, and later out of, that dress.

A waiter brought your water. You thanked him and, just as you picked it up, you heard Alex.

“She didn’t go falling on you, now did she?”

“No, sir, not at all!” replied the maître d’. You turned, gaping at your- boyfriend? Partner? There didn’t seem to be a good term for you two, and you hadn’t discussed any labels. You settled on person in your mind. And your person was beaming, eyes sparkling in mirth as he walked to the table. He held out a hand to you as he arrived.

“You expect me to kiss you after that?”

The maître d’ laughed sharply, quickly covering his mouth and excusing himself with a bow.

“I do,” said Alex smoothly. You grudgingly rose to your feet for a chaste kiss, eyeing him appreciatively as you did. He’d picked a black suit and tie with a silk shirt that matched your sapphire dress. His hair was, as always, out of place and wild. It just added to his charm. He looked devastatingly handsome. He seemed to think the same as you, holding you out in front of him and whistling low. He spun you around and was shaking his head when you faced him again. His eyes had darkened nearly to match his shirt.

“You look ravishing,” he said solemnly.

You felt a flash of shyness before the lust in his gaze caught up with your own, and then you felt just as ravishing as you were sure he thought you were.

“Business go well?” you asked as you slid back into the chair Alex had pulled out for you.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat. “Extremely.” There was a twinkle in his eye that made you squint at him, but he waved a hand. “Later. Have you looked at the menu yet? Pick something and tell me about your day.”

So you did. Your department had just begun using a new program and the legwork associated with updating all of your files was extensive. You’d been tasked with sorting and fixing error codes, and the list was thousands of lines long. It was tedious work. You paused to order when a waiter arrived, then regaled Alex with overly dramatic tales of your boredom, making him laugh loudly enough to look around the otherwise quiet room sheepishly.

“I think this place is juuust a little too fancy for us.” He’d lifted his fingers, holding them close together as he smiled, and suddenly you were back in the basement where you’d met. Your waiter delivered two plates of delectable looking food, then. You both thanked him, studied your plates, and dug in. Your food tasted even better than it smelled, and you assumed Alex felt the same as he chewed slowly with a blissful glaze over his eyes.

“Did you ever get those guns?” He blinked at you, snapping out of whatever higher plane he’d been transported to, utterly lost. “Right before Amsterdam. You said you were this close to getting those guns.” You mimed his pinched fingers, covering your mouth with your other hand. Alex reached up to cover his mouth, too. His shoulders were shaking and he shook his head, swallowing the food he’d been chewing.

“Where did that come from?” he chuckled. You made a face at him and reached across the table to pinch his nose, which only earned you an undignified snort.

“This!” You tapped your fingers together in a hyperbolic imitation of the gesture. Alex was full-blown laughing now, covering his mouth with a linen napkin and trying to quiet himself. He nodded, snickering into his wrist as he lowered his hand

“Yes, angel, I got the guns.”

You grinned at him. “See? How hard was that? Now your turn, tell me about your day.”

He shook his head, still smiling, and held up a finger for you to wait while he finished the last of his meal. You took advantage of the pause in conversation to finish your own food, leaning slightly back in your chair as you pushed your plate away.

“Good?” He asked. You nodded, patting your belly.

“So good.”

“Dessert?”

“Gosh, no,” you chuckled. “I don’t think I could even split something with you right now.”

“Good, neither could I.” He made a little cutting gesture across his throat to someone over your shoulder, and you turned to see the maître d’ nod in your direction. “Business was good,” Alex began. He’d taken the day off in order to sort through the last of the details of moving in with you. “Got all my paperwork done with my leasing office, got my address changed for all of my bills, canceled the internet, hit the DMV, all of that.” Alex stood as your waiter approached, pulling his wallet and an envelope out of his pocket.

He set the envelope on the table while he fished out his card for the waiter, exchanging it for a bottle of champagne with two flutes.

Your heartbeat sped.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, barely concealing the quaver in your voice.

Alex flashed a grin at you as he opened the bottle, pouring you a flute. “Gosh, I hope so,” he mumbled. Before you could question it, he handed you a flute and the envelope. “Open it,” he said softly.

Your heartbeat had slowed considerably. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you’d expected from that opening. You squashed the pang of disappointment you felt. It’s too early for that you told yourself. You didn’t believe it.

Regardless, this had to be something huge. Alex didn’t make a big deal out of nothing. Whatever was inside, he’d already seen. The envelope had been opened. You pulled out a bundle of papers, unfolded them, and promptly dropped them to cover your mouth with both hands.

“Alex?” you whispered. Tears were already filling your eyes. He nodded.

“Laswell approved it. It’s conditional upon my acceptance, though. I told her I’d have to talk to you first. Comes with a bit of a paycut.”

You were shaking your head violently, already moving toward him with arms outstretched. “Oh, Alex,” you sobbed. “Alex, my Alex, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, you’re going to be home. Oh, Alex.” You were weeping now, waves of relief and gratitude coursing through your veins.

He chuckled low, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re saying my name so much it’s almost like we’re in bed,” he whispered. You hit his shoulder, face flushing as you sputtered. He laughed deep in his chest, squeezing you a little tighter.

You hadn’t even known Alex had filed for a departmental transfer. You hadn’t even looked yet at what it was. You let go of him with one hand to scrabble for the paper, lifting it to eye-level.

Language officer, operating out of Langley in Washington D.C.

Alex breathed a laugh as you held onto him for dear life. “You know, I was hoping you’d be a little happier,” he teased. You smacked his shoulder lightly again, laughing a watery laugh and fumbling for a napkin to wipe your face. He let you go and picked one up, turning back to you and suddenly looking quite nervous.

“But,” he said shakily. He wiped his hands down the front of his slacks. “It does make me feel a little more confident doing this.” He reached into his jacket.

And he dropped to one knee, withdrawing a black velvet box.

Your heart stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Alex had squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a deep breath. He opened his eyes and breathed out your name.

“I never imagined myself falling in love. I thought I was going to be on my own for my whole life, and I was okay with that. Until I met you.” He opened the box and you let out a sob, covering your mouth again. The ring was two slim, twined bands- a black gold string of barbed wire and a white gold shoelace- with a sparkling diamond nestled between them. Alex looked down at it. His voice was low, solemn. “You wrapped me around you so fast it made my head spin. Now, I can’t imagine life without you.” He leveled you with an intense look. “I don’t want to imagine life without you.

You were nodding vigorously, and he chuckled softly, eyes shining. “What are you saying yes for? You have no idea what I’m about to ask, I could want you to join a cult. Just calm down.”

You laughed, all progress toward putting yourself together hopelessly lost. You were a blubbering mess; shaky, tear streaked, the whole nine yards.

Alex’s face softened as he looked up at you with such adoration that it might break your heart. The roots beneath your skin had overgrown your whole skeleton, every organ. There were nothing but blooms in your body, now- bright, white, sweet flowers.

“There’s nothing I could ever do to earn your love. But if you let me, I will dedicate my life to just that. Will you make me the absolute happiest, luckiest man in the world and be my wife?” You hadn’t stopped nodding, and you whispered “yesyesyesyesyes” as you launched yourself forward. True to form, you stumbled along the way. Alex, being Alex, was ready for you, anticipating your clumsiness. He laughed, the best laugh you’d ever heard from him and suddenly you realized that the whole restaurant was cheering and clapping and calling out encouragement as he lifted you off the floor and spun you around.

You kissed him, and felt him smile against your lips. He set you down just long enough to pull the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger with ease.

“How did you know...?”

“I… may have taken the USB ring from Amsterdam.”

You looked at him incredulously. He gave a rueful smile.

“Call me a dreamer,” he murmured. Just a trace of nerves tinging his voice. You took his hand in yours, raising it to your lips.

“I’ll call you anything you want, so long as I can call you mine.”

The grin that split his face was instant and wide. “That was so, so cheesy.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up toward him. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he whispered. He pulled you close, kissing you breathless, people be damned.

The lilies that had grown to cover your skin all reached up for him as he did.

#nightingale writes #cod #cod mw19 #alex keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller cod

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theycallmebecca · 11 months

Note

Can I request either Ari or Chris jealousy prompt “do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it’s because - y’know what, never mind”

Hey nonny! Thanks for this fantastic prompt! I wrote most of this the other day and I had another ending in mind.. but it just wasn't working with me... but oh well.

This Memorial Day weekend, I’m accepting prompts. The information (and links to stories written for it) are in this post.

Title: Secrets of the Heart

Pairing: Ari Levinson x female reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context.

Women love Ari.

Ari loves women.

You love Ari.

Ari loves you like a best friend.

You sigh into your drink as another woman stops Ari on his way back to your table. You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the same routine they all do when they see him in a bar.

She’ll touch his arm.

He’ll flex his biceps.

She’ll giggle and coo over his “big strong muscles”.

He’ll give her a panty melting smile.

She’ll give him her number.

He’ll pocket the number and promise to call her.

She’ll go back to her friends, who will all giggle and steal glances at him.

He’ll come back to your table and drop into his seat like nothing has happened.

“What’s that face about?” he asks, picking up his beer and taking a swig of it.

“Just thinking,” you lie as you adjust your expression. He doesn’t know you’re in love with him and it’s better that way. Afterall, you are the opposite of his type, judging by the women he’s gone out with.

“Sounds serious,” he says, leaning forward. Then, because he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, adds, “Tell Ari what’s troubling you.”

“I’m on my period and I have cramps,” you say, knowing that will make him uncomfortable. “So I’ve decided to go home.”

He cringes at the womanly stuff, but his expression turns to a frown when you say you’re leaving. “You haven’t finished your beer,” he says.

“I don’t need the calories,” you state as you stand up. “I ordered an Uber so you can stay and -” You motion in the general direction of the woman he was flirting with. “- do whatever.”

You don’t wait for him to respond as you cross the bar as quickly as you can. You have no intention on going straight home, instead, you plan to walk the two blocks to the ice cream parlor where you’ll get your favorite ice cream and eat it while you wait for the Uber to pick you up.

It’s still early in the evening, so you aren’t alone on the street as you walk to your next destination lost in thought. You know breaking ties with Ari would make your life a little easier, but the thought of not having him in your life is more heartbreaking than watching him flirt with nameless women in front of you.

You’re waiting for the light to change around the corner from the ice cream shop when an all to familiar voice says, “I thought you said you ordered an Uber.”

Spinning around, you stare at Ari in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you,” he counters, pulling you out of the way as another group of people walk past.

One of the women in the group stops and looks at his hand on your arm before looking at you. “Are you ok?” she asks.

Ari smartly let’s go and takes a step back, but you nod and assure the woman that you’re fine.

She glares at him and then takes his picture of the two of you with her phone. “Just in case,” she says then she walks away.

Ari curses under his breath before turning to you. “Why are you acting like this?” he asks, his tone calmer, likely to avoid anyone else stopping.

“Why are you following me?” you counter. “I told you I was leaving so you could go home with that wannabe model.”

Ari lets out a satisfied noise. “And there it is,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “The real reason you left the bar.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you demand.

“You always do this,” he says, throwing his hands up. “It’s Thursday, our night. Yeah, I flirted with her, but I wasn’t going to ditch you for her. I don’t even know her.”

You roll your eyes. Not knowing a woman has never stopped him from taking her home.

“You know what, fine,” Ari says. “Leave. Go home. I’ll see you later.”

“Do you ever ask why I get this way?” you call after his retreating back, the words coming out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He pauses and turns to look at you, his face unreadable.

“Maybe it’s because -” His eyes roll, obviously expecting another dumb excuse and you get control of your tongue. “- y’know what, never mind, fuck you, Ari Levinson.”

Taking advantage of the green light, you race across the street, embarrassed that you almost spilled your secret to that asshole.

A series of honks makes you turn and you see Ari running across the street, traffic lights be damned.

“Because why, damn it?” he demands once he reaches you. “I fucking need to know.”

“Ari, please, don’t,” you beg softly. “I -”

“Because I can tell you why I go home with those wannabe models,” he says. “Because I can’t be with the one person I want to be with.” He tilts your chin so he can look you in the eye. “You.”

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at him. “What?” Your brain is too stunned to say anything more.

“It’s always been you,” he says. “Just you. Perfect you.”

“But I’m not your type,” you state.

“You are my type,” he argues. “I only date the wannabes because they don’t look like you, don’t act like you… because they aren’t you. If I can’t have you, I don’t want a substitute. For the longest time, I’ve just been your best friend and I accepted that fact. But I want more, I need more. I want you, all of you.”

“You do?”

“I do,” he whispers. “But the question now is, do you?”

“Yes,” you say, on the verge of tears. “Ari, yes, always.”

“Thank fuck,” he says before he pushes you up against the brick wall of the closest building and kisses you, ignoring the cat calls and the ‘get a room’ comments from people passing you on the street.

That first kiss is better than you ever imagined it would be. The second kiss is even better than the first.

Pulling away, Ari rests his forehead against yours and says, “How about we get some ice cream then go back to your place. I think the rest of this conversation would be better in private.”

"Yes," you reply, looking down at your hand that clasped in his. "Ari."

His eyes meet yours in question.

"I love you," you say, needing him to know the full extent of your feelings for him.

"I love you, too," he replies.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #ari levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fanfic #ari levinson fan fiction #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #Becca writes drabbles

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akysi · 4 months

Note

Hey Do you have any tips on making a logo because ive been looking to make logo for Ask blog and was wondering if you had any tips?

Hey, thanks for asking! :D I can be very wordy about stuff I’m passionate about so my apologies for the length of this answer ^^’ That said though, if you have any further questions feel free to reply or send another ask :) Here’s a few tips, I hope they help!

1. Choose a font (or draw one yourself) that fits what you want the logo to represent Similar to how specific choices are made to convey the intent in character design, font choice in a logo design can affect the overall “feel” of it, so try to pick ones that fit whatever you’re making the logo for. In other words, logos can have their own “character” too! Many character design principles, such as shape language and colour theory, can apply to logo design as well. If this is for a fandom/pre-existing media, try looking up those logos first if you want to match their look for your own. Also try studying logos you like in general to figure out how they're constructed, and use anything you like from them in your own design!

There are a ton of styles and combinations out there, but one of the biggest distinctions between fonts is serif versus sans serif.

Though not the case every time, serif fonts tend to look more old-fashioned/traditional, while sans serif usually appears more modern/digital.

While you can use any font for inspiration if you intend to draw your own, if you just want to type one out, then be sure to look up the usage permissions for it first. Not all are free for personal use and may be stolen even if they're listed as free online. If you’re unsure, search the font name and find the license or usage permissions directly from the creator/font foundry if you can!

2. How “fancy” you want your logo to be is up to you, but make sure it still works as a flat image as well This is less applicable if you’re only using the logo for one thing, but generally speaking you want your logo to be versatile enough to still be readable without all of the fancy gradients and drop shadows added. Those should be extra details, not the main component that's holding up the whole design, so to speak.

I recommend starting with the flat or black & white version and refine the design enough in that stage first before moving on the final clean/fancy version. Here's a comparison between the flat and full version of the logo for my comic project, Starglass Zodiac (original post here):

Even without all of the shiny stuff on top/underneath, the flat colour version still functions as intended. 3. Make sure the width/length/size of the logo works well for what it will be used for For example, if you want to use the logo on the banner for your ask blog, make sure it'll can be read well in that format. You can do this by either making the logo in a file that's the same dimensions as your banner, or testing the rough design for the logo on the banner first before committing to the final design.

Also make sure that the logo doesn't blend into whatever background you intend to put it on, especially if the logo itself doesn't have a background. Adding a black or white (or both) stroke around the logo can help it appear on more background colours.

4. Make sure the most important words are largest or are the focal point otherwise Similar to the last point, make sure that a viewer will get the gist of your logo even if they look at it quickly. This is most relevant for logos for things that have long titles or have a subtitle attached to a main name. If your logo will have multiple words, having a hierarchy of importance in size and/or colour can help the viewer see the most important part first.

--------

Now for some general additions/effects to consider for your logo!

Gradients - Your best friend, one of the easiest ways to make even the simplest logo look fancier than the flat version, if the overall style you're going for calls for it. These can allow you to have colour shifts over the whole design, or add highlights in parts of it to tie the whole thing together. You can also add edge highlights/shadows on top of these too.

Textures - Similar to gradients, textures can add a lot of flair to a design very quickly. Even gradients themselves can be textures already, like mimicking shiny metal or the like. They can also be used to represent something about what the logo is for, like adding a rocky texture for a logo involving mountain climbing or ancient ruins.

Strokes - These are outlines around your lettering that can help them be seen on multiple background colours, or to make specific letters pop out from the others. You can use multiple strokes on different areas of the same design as needed, but make sure they don't impede the legibility of the lettering itself! Many of the Kirby logos use several strokes at once, like this one below.

Backgrounds - Any colour/shape underneath the text to serve as a base for it. Similar to strokes, they can help the lettering read properly on multiple colours/shades. They can also provide additional information about what the logo is for or represents, like putting a sunset in the background of a logo that has "Sunset" in the name.

Drop Shadows and Outer/Inner Glows - These are often paired together, as they generally serve the same purpose; emphasizing the part of the design they're applied too. Drop shadows can help "lift" some parts of the design off the base, while glows can outline something instead, like a soft version of a stroke. It's very easy to overuse these though, so use them sparingly!

Bevels & Edging - Adding these to the lettering or other parts of the design can make them stand out more, especially if you add shading to it! One of my favourite examples of this is the main Spyro logo, both classic and modern :)

Blocking - Basically a way to make the letters or the whole logo look more 3D by adding "blocks" underneath it, which can also help add another colour to the logo's palette! Spyro's logo above uses shaded blocking.

There are a ton of other effects and ways to combine them, so feel free to experiment with a bunch of them! As one final example, here's a breakdown of the logo design I made for The Zodiac Experiment (Original post here) so you can see how these effects can work together on one piece!

Have fun designing! ^_^

#thanks for the ask! <3 #asks #thegoldensungoddess #logo design #long post

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felixtrash469-blog · 3 months

Text

Gen Narumi x F!Reader - Fakers

Gen Narumi x F!Reader (Y/N usage)

5.5K words

Fluff, Smut, angst.

Heading into the base proved to be nerve-wracking, more then initially thought. I stood looking towards it, head held high, proudly displaying my name badge and title;

‘(First name)(Last name)

Fortitude researcher’

Hasegawa, vice Captain of the first division, stood at the entrance, awaiting my arrival. Hasegawa met me halfway between us before providing a formal greeting and welcome. Following him into the base, Hasegawa explained the layout of the building before providing me with the schedule of today's meeting. A small sigh escaped his lips when he spoke the name of the captain of the first division, offering an apology for what I might experience with him and asking me to not pass judgment on the rest of the team based off Captain Narumi, the first meeting scheduled.

Stopping in front of the two wooden doors, Hasegawa reached up and knocked rather harshly before calling out to the captain. When no answer was received, the look of irritation passed Hasegawa’s face and he pushed on the doors. The room was dark and smelled rather strong. Looking closer, there was wrappers and cans littered over the floor, Yamazon boxes created a wall between the view of the door and the presumed desk behind it. Off to the side was a messy bed and a couch filled with rubbish in front of a tv surrounded by consoles. Squinting my eyes to adjust to the dark room, I found a figure leaning against the boxes, hand-held console strewn to the side. The figure looked towards the door at the intrusion of light. I noticed his two-tone hair of black and silver creating a fringe just above his eyes. His eyes looked blood-shot, a range of reasons possible.

“Hasegawa” The voice came out in more of a whine then a word. “Close the damn door, and while you’re here, lend me some money.”

Hasegawa looked ready for murder. The man glared at man before walking over and picking up the man by his collar.

“Is this the way you greet the new staff? I warned you (Last name) was arriving today. I sent you a text message, I woke you up. What more can I do? Have you even showered?”

At the last comment, Hasegawa’s nose wrinkled at the, most likely, ripe smell that came from the man clad in gray sweatpants that had seen better days judging by the stains.

“I don’t care for your work politics. I’ll meet them, when they prove themselves.”

With that, I leaned forward, giving a little wave of my hand and a false smile gracing my face.

“Hasegawa, this seems to be a waste of your time and mine, shall we leave captain Narumi to wallow in the heap of sadness?”

Hasegawa dropped Narumi and made his way to me. He gave the captain one last look of disappointment, before shaking his head and closing the door. He started walking and I matched his strides.

“Well, at least this base is interesting, much better then the sticklers from my previous division.”

Hasegawa hummed in agreeance at my comment about the 5th division. He came to a stop when we reached a staircase.

“Up there is probably one of the best lunch spots in the whole base. It’s a rooftop with benches that overlook the ocean. The lunch room with bento boxes is around the corner. Head left and take a right at the second doorway. You have an hour left until your next meeting.I’ll meet you here at 10 minutes to.”

I watched a Hasegawa walked back down the hallway before following the directions to the lunch room. I reviewed the board of options for lunch. I had trouble deciding between two options. I settled on getting both and saving one for dinner.

I made my way up to the rooftop as directed by Hasegawa. The sun was harsh on my eyes when the door swung open. The salty wind from the ocean hit my nostrils, giving me a sense of peace. I stepped out and waited for my eyes to adjust to the natural light. Once they had adjusted, a range of smaller buildings leading towards the deep blue ocean greeted me. Sitting on the seat and opening my bento box, I watched as the waves lapped at the vibrant yellow sand. The bustle of Tokyo faded into the background as I ate. I thought over my father, the reason I moved to this division. I thought about how I had to see him while I still had the chance before his illness took hold of him.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door behind me opened with a loud bang as if someone had kicked it open. I swung my head around and was greeted with captain Narumi. He deeply frowned up at the sun and used a hand to shield his eyes from the barrage of rays being emitted his way. Narumi released a sigh before noticing my presence. He froze for a moment before making his way to me. He sat on the bench beside me, his deep breathing only just reaching my ears. It was both awkward to be here with him, not talking but it also still remained peaceful as we both peered at the view.

The peace was broken by his stomach rumbling loudly. I looked over to him, the tips of his ears red in embarrassment.

“I apologise, I’m usually here alone and the smell of the bento box made me hungry.”

I looked down at my spare bento box before extending my hand in his direction, holding out lunch.

“Take it, I couldn’t decide between the two and got a spare anyway.”

Narumi hesitated for a little before taking the box out of my hand, opening it and smelling deeply. I licked the saltiness of the wind off my lips before speaking again.

“Is there a reason you didn’t bring lunch if you were hungry?”

“I spent all my money on the limited edition figure that came out this month.”

“That’s why you asked Hasegawa to lend you money?”

“It’s only until next week when we get paid again!”

“Instead of borrowing it, how about I provide you a way to earn it?”

Narumi’s head snapped in my direction as he eyed me suspiciously.

“I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend every now and then. I’ll pay you well, we don’t have to do anything inappropriate and we won’t be working directly together. Look, my name badge says fortitude researcher. I work in the lab and find out the reason for the fluctuations in fortitude from the Kaiju. Just think about it, if you agree, I’ll give you more details. Swing by my office if you want to take me up on it.”

Narumi continued to stare at me, I assumed mulling over my proposition. I packed up my rubbish before waving a farewell and leaving him to his thoughts.

I sat in my office in the lab, decompressing from all the meetings. I sunk a little more in my chair sighing. A small knock at my open door was the only thing that brought my eyes to open.

“I feel the same after meetings, they’re really bad, huh?”

The two-toned captain looked in my direction, gesturing to my posture.

“I guess you could say that, what brings you to my office at this hour?”

The clock ticked beside his head, showing 9 pm.

“I want to know more information.” Narumi shut the door and pulled out the seat across from me.

“First of all, everything that is said here is confidential. I don’t want other staff knowing about this. As for the role, I need you to come with me to visit my father and pretend to be my boyfriend. If he likes you, it will most likely be a weekly thing, if he doesn’t, it will be monthly. I’ll pay you $100 a night and I’ll make your lunch every day so that you don’t starve in the meanwhile. I’ll need you to act affectionately, possibly having your arm around me, holding my hand and in moments, kiss my forehead or cheek, all though those will be limited. If this is too much, please let me know now. Otherwise, do you have any questions?”

“Why do you need to hire someone to do this?”

“My father believes that I have a partner and he wants to meet him. I need to hire someone to act lovey-dovey with me.”

“Why don’t you just get a boyfriend?”

“My father is ill and doesn’t have the time for me to go out and fall in love.”

“Why did you choose me?”

“You seemed driven by money and not much else from my first impression, so I’m assuming you will keep this strictly business like I want to.”

“Why does your father think you have a partner?”

“That question is off limits.”

“One last one, when do we start?”

“Two days from now. Be ready at 5pm and meet out the front of my office. We’ll head to my father’s house from there.”

“I look forward to doing business with you.”

We shook hands before Narumi left. I sighed as I sunk back into my chair. Pulling out my phone, I messaged my father to let him know that my partner would be joining us for dinner. I hoped that all went smoothly before getting up to go to my dorm to cook lunch for both Narumi and I for the next day.

The next two days were uneventful, filled with work, only seeing Narumi when handing him lunch. When 5 pm rolled around, Narumi was outside my door, dressed in a fresh pair of black skinny jeans and a tight fitting blue shirt. His hair was slicked up, the same way I had seen him on TV so many times. He smelled of spiced apple and the smallest hint of fresh mint when he greeted me. I was impressed with how well he cleaned up. I watched him giving me a once over, taking in my cream knitted shirt and faded jeans.

“Are we going to your old mans house now?”

I nodded, closing my office door behind me and walking towards the exit of the base. We reached my father’s house, giving a soft knock. I braced myself, hearing his footsteps approaching the door, remembering the excitement he was buzzing with over text message. The door flung open and I was greeted with my father’s exhausted face. He looked worn down and exhausted, a clear sign of his illness besting him these days. He reached out to hug me, welcoming me in, before extending a hand to Narumi for him to shake.

“Welcome to my home son, come in.”

Narumi stepped in after me, my father closing the door behind both of us. I led us down the hallway to the dinning room. I took a seat, Narumi mimicking my actions beside me and my father sitting across from both of us. Small talks of how everyone was exchanged, with my father frequently looking over at Narumi.

“I think I might go get started on dinner, Gen, dad, are you two okay to get acquainted while I cook?”

I received a nod from both as I rounded the corner. I could hear the conversation start.

“So son, what’s your name?”

“Gen Narumi, Gen is written with the Kanji for string and Narumi is made up of the characters Naru for ringing and Mi for ocean. Should I refer to you Mr (Last name)?”

“Please, (Dad’s first name) is fine. Say, are you the one I always see on TV with the Kaiju?”

“That would be me, yes.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect my daughter to be able to bag a big shot like you! Honestly, she rarely tells me anything about you. I would hear that she went out with her partner every now and again but when she stopped mentioning you a month ago, I just assumed you had broken up. I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

“I’m sorry to shock you like that sir, I promise we’re still going as strong as we previously were.”

“So, after three years of avoiding me, I assume you’re here to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage?”

“Dad! Stop freaking him out. I told you he is always busy with work.”

I could hear my dad’s laughter echo throughout the house. Dad and Narumi continued a light-hearted conversation about work, hobbies and interests while we ate dinner. At the end of the night, my father hugged us both, asking Narumi to not be a stranger and arranging for us to meet up again next week.

Narumi and I walked back to base in the brisk night.

“Your dad is really nice.”

“Yeah, he’s always been really friendly but I think he’s extremely happy to finally meet a partner of mine.”

“He said three years, did you have a partner of two years that refused to meet him?”

“That depends, are you wanting to continue this arrangement?”

“I plan to continue, I already spent the $100 you gave me on Yamazon. I also think it’s good for your dad.”

“I appreciate that. I did have a partner, we were together for just over three years. He never met my dad once.”

“Why not?”

“He said he wasn’t ready to meet parents yet. Apparently it would make it too serious.”

“Too serious? After three years? What a jerk.”

“Says the arrogant man that didn’t want to know me until I was offering him money.”

Narumi laughed beside me as I nudged his side. The rest of the walk was filled with Narumi discussing his current game he was invested in.

The following days were filled with my dad texting me about how much he liked Narumi and wished he met him sooner. I passed on the messages when I handed Narumi his lunch. We slowly got closer, having inside jokes based off what my dad said, spending a night gaming together over online platforms and eating on the rooftop together when the days were especially nice.

The weeks came and went. Narumi grew closer to my father and I. The visits became more frequent but Narumi rejected me paying him more, offering a gaming night in exchange for spending time with my father. I could see their happiness grow with each visit together, my father would muster up all his energy just to spend time with Narumi. His smile would grow even more when we would show up with hands held together. He would pretend not to notice each time Narumi’s arm snaked its way around my waist when we all stood talking in the kitchen or the way he would kiss my forehead each time he took the dishes from the table to the sink. I knew my father would pretend not to notice but the way he’d glance in my direction after with a soft smile made me know that he approved. It gave warmth to my heart seeing the little twinkle in the corner of his eye.

I tried to pay no mind to how the warmth would fade on the way home when Narumi would drop his hand from mine. I constantly reminded myself how this was just a business transaction. I would never again get involved with someone from any division, but especially not my current assigned one. I just needed to play happy couple for my father. I could grin and bear it all for my father.

On an unimportant Wednesday, I received a message from my father, asking me and Narumi to visit. I received confirmation from Narumi that he could attend after work.

We arrived, hand in hand to my father’s place. When my father opened the door, I could see that today was a particularly bad day for him. We both greeted him before making our way to the dinning room. I went to sit down, when my father gave me a look that was almost pleading and nodded towards the kitchen. He wanted to speak to Narumi alone, it made me extremely nervous. Never-the-less, I announced I was going to the kitchen, receiving a small peck on the forehead from Narumi and making my way.

When in the kitchen, I started preparing dinner, straining my ears in the meanwhile to try to get the gist of the conversation. I stopped when I heard my father talk about how he didn’t have much time left. It was too much to listen to, I instead focused on cutting the vegetables.

Dinner was mostly filled by light-hearted conversation between Narumi and my father. Narumi did the dishes in the end before we went back to base together, wishing a farewell to my father. On the way back, Narumi didn’t release my hand this time. He held my hand tighter each time I tried to pull away. Finally looking up at him, I could see his eyes avoid mine.

“Come game in my room tonight. I’ll get us both a day off tomorrow.”

I felt my heart rate pick up. Game? In his room? No one else but the two of us? I couldn’t say anything, in fear that my voice would crack, instead opting for a nod to show my agreement.

Reaching back to base, I quickly ducked to my room to shower, put on some more comfortable clothes and grabbing my console before making my way to Narumi’s room. I glanced at the doors before gently knocking with my free hand. Narumi opened the door, still in his jeans and shirt from the night, his hair still slicked back. Narumi stood to the side, welcoming me into the room.

Instead of showering, Narumi had made a blanket fort for us on his couch, in front of the TV. He grabbed my free hand in his and lead me over to the couch, sitting us both down. I couldn’t help but notice the proximity between us. I felt my leg pressed against his, his arm behind my shoulders and resting on the couch. I could clearly smell the intoxicating scent of his spiced apple cologne. I could feel the tips of my ears heat up and held my breath to slow down my heart rate.

“I know you brought your console, but I have two controllers, I thought maybe we could play a two player game?”

I nodded and placed my console on the ground. Narumi got up to get both controllers and I felt an almost longing at his warmth being removed. Narumi sat a little more away when he brought back the controllers, handing one my way. I spared a glance at him before flicking my eyes to the TV. Narumi pressed start on the game after I had curled up comfortably on the couch. Narumi continued to sit up, leaning forward when he was losing and the game got intense. I could see him shift his eyes on me for a moment when I was really invested in the game.

“You remember how your old man spoke to me tonight?”

“Yeah, what was that about?”

“He told me a bit about his illness. He explained what it was and that the doctor’s suspect he might not have long left, as you already know.”

“Oh. I’m sorry he’s told you that. I know this is business for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. Anyway, he said that he could see that you really love me. He also said he really approves of our relationship.”

“Pfft, that old man, he doesn’t know what he’s seeing anymore.”

“Regardless of that, he gave me something.”

“Something?”

Narumi paused the game, pulling something out of his pocket. Now that I was looking at him, the awkwardness became apparent again. When I could finally see what was in his hand, I didn’t know what to say.

“He asked me not to leave you. He gave me the ring he gave your mum so that I could propose to you. It doesn’t feel right for me to hold on to this.”

Narumi reached the ring out to me. I slowly took the ring from his hands. I looked over it multiple times, admiring the shine of the ring in the TV light. Without realising, a tear rolled down my cheek at the look of the ring. I didn’t notice until I saw Narumi reaching over. His thumb wiped the tear off my cheek. I flushed, realising how he was leaning over me. One hand of his held his weight, while the other still rested on my cheek. His face was mere inches from mine and his body was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. I stopped moving, his eyes flickered to mine. I could see the small details of Narumi now. The red in his eyes was vibrant, the slim show of black hair that came through his silver undertone, the light dryness of his pink lips. My breath hitched. God how I wanted to kiss him. How I wanted to feel his body heat warming me as his hand caressed my face.

“You’re staring.”

I gulp slightly, now more aware of all the things I could feel. The ring burned in my hand as I thought about Narumi. I just kept staring at him, watching his eyes shift over me, hoping he couldn’t hear my heartbeat.

As if in slow motion, Narumi dipped his head until his lips met mine. The kiss made the butterflies in my stomach go mad and my head feel dizzy. Narumi didn’t break the kiss, instead he attempted to open my mouth to let him in. I slowly parted my lips, letting Narumi explore. When he pulled away, his face was close enough for me to feel his breath fanning my face. His eyes searched mine for hesitation. When he found none, he sat up and pulled my arms with him so I sat up as well.

He leaned more into me, connecting our lips again. Nothing else was there in the moment but the pure giddy I felt to finally be kissing the captain of the first division. Until it clicked. The captain. Of the first division.

I pushed Narumi away abruptly. He gave me a look of confusion, not understanding what the difference between now and a moment ago was.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed it.” Narumi looked to the side, almost ashamed of himself.

“No, it’s not that I don't want to. Trust me, I really really want to. I just can’t. I promised myself i wouldn’t.

Narumi refused to look my way. I took it as a sign that my time here has expired. I grabbed the ring and my console before leaving. I felt the sting of rejection and guilt. The guilt of feeling things only Narumi should be feeling. I cried myself to sleep that night, everything of the day being too overwhelming.

For the next month, Narumi avoided me. He didn’t answer any texts, was only in the same room as me for meetings and refused to answer the door when it was knocked on. I had no official reason to see him, so I didn’t get to apolgise. My father seemed increasingly concerned each time I came over without Narumi and the excuse of ‘work is busy’. My father didn’t push me though.

Another month marched on in a similar fashion. Narumi had still avoided me. I went through many emotions, upset, angry (He is acting like such a child), longing, anything to get me through the period of losing someone that became almost like a best friend. Someone I had let my feelings grow for.

I sat in my office, the day done with work, when there was a knock at my door. I shot up, thinking it was Narumi. Hasegawa’s head popped through the door.

“Can I steal a moment?”

“I have to say, work finished an hour ago, but sure.”

“I’m here in a personal capacity.”

My eyebrow raised at his statement and I gestured towards the seat in front of me. I waited for Hasegawa to speak.

“Truthfully, I don’t know what went on between you and Captain Narumi, I don’t care to know either. But what I do know, is that for the past two months, Captain has been moping all the time. He acts strange whenever you walk past or your name is mentioned. In the past month as well, he has had me start to obtain things from your personnel file. I am telling you this, because I don’t believe he is obtaining these for professional purposes.”

“What types of things do these files that he can access obtain?”

“Previous employment records, length of employment, capability testing and your HR files, such as if you have needed to use our resources, why you left your last division, etc.”

I could feel my heart sink at the last sentence. Why I left my last division. The nightmare of the fifth division has plagued me since I left.

“Thank you for your consideration, Hasegawa.”

“In exchange, please assure you aren’t too harsh on him when you patch things over. If you patch things over. Goodnight.”

I sat in my office after Hasegawa left, thinking over the previous division. The memory of my previous partner flashed in my mind. I shook away the thought, remembering would only hurt me.

A further week went on without any word from Narumi. He continued to avoid me. It hurt each time I saw him in the halls, returning from a Kaiju execution. His crimson eyes glimmered in full display when his bangs were up each time I saw him brag about how well he had done. His eyes would dull, if they landed on me, the hurt of rejection showing with the wounds to his pride from our night alone.

On a Friday, he had returned from a mission, bragging loudly in the halls about how a girl ran up to him to give him her number. He glowered with his team. When his eyes met mine, a small lift of his lips ensued. A smirk graced his face and a small flick of his wrist, brought my attention to the paper in between his fingers. I left the hall, deciding against saying anything to him.

In the shower that night, I grew my determination. I got dressed and made my way to Narumi’s room. I knocked on the door before immediately opening it. Narumi stood in the middle of the room, towel hung around his waist, hair slicked up and dripping, his chest bare for the world to see. I felt my determination waive, seeing Narumi half naked. We stood, both staring in shock at each other. I broke myself out of my trance, closing the door behind me and walking up to him.

“Gen Narumi, I know I hurt your feelings but do you care to explain why you’re decided to avoid me for TWO whole months?”

“You? Hurt my feelings? Don’t kid yourself. It was just a bit of fun and I didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.”

“If it was just fun, then why did you poke around in my file. I know you want to know why I left division five.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Hasegawa ratted you out. He told me you were looking through my file.”

“That bastard. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes. It does. If it doesn’t matter, why avoid me? Why do you seem so angry now.”

“You want the truth?”

“Please, that's all I ask for.”

“You didn’t even give us a chance. You brought me into your life, you introduced me to your dad, you asked me to kiss you and hug you, you looked at me like I was someone special to you. But that wasn’t enough. You threw what we had away because of your stupid ex-boyfriend. Because he cheated on you, you believe we’re all going to do that or something? You think we’re all going to cheat and break up and turn the whole base against you. I’m mad because you didn’t even try to let me change your mind.”

I stared at Narumi for a little, unsure what to say. When I couldn’t find the strength to argue back, I stepped towards him until I was close enough to wrap my arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry Gen. I should have thought about it. Will you give me the chance I failed to give you?”

I felt droplets of water fall on my head as he sighed.

“Man, my date is going to be pissed I canceled.”

“You can go, I’ll stay here and save over your progress on your games.”

“Don’t think you’re off the hook. You still need to prove you’re willing to give us a chance first.”

Narumi unwraps my arms, taking my hand in his again and pulling me to the couch. Narumi lays down, pulling me on top of him. He grabs the controller and puts on a show in the background. I sit myself up on his stomach, looking down.

“Do you think you could maybe get dressed before we cuddle?”

“Why? Does seeing me this way turn you on?”

“And if it does?”

Narumi didn’t hesitate to grab the collar of my shirt and pull me down into a kiss.I felt his hand that he had previously placed on my waist, make its way under my shirt to grope me. Through the towel, I felt a slight poke on my thigh that was growing bigger by the second. When Narumi was fully erect, he broke the kiss.

“If it turns you on so much, then be my good girl and help me out.”

I nodded hungrily, getting off Narumi and kneeling on the ground in front of him. Narumi put one leg either side of me and allowed me to unwrap the towel that hung on his waist. When the towel was unwrapped, I gasped at the sight. Narumi seemed unbelievably hard, the vein on his length was prominent and the top leaked pre-cum from us kissing.

I flattened my tongue and ran it across the head, tasting him. Following the same pattern, I took the head in my mouth, using my spit to lubricate his length as my head continued to go lower. I gripped my hand at the base of his shaft, moving my head while sucking. Before long, Narumi’s hand was gripping my hair, while whispering ‘oh fuck (first name)’ ‘god this feels so good’ ‘don’t stop’, followed by a round of guttural moans. When I could feel his grip tighten and his hips start to rock, I pulled away. Narumi looked down with disappointment, muttering about how I looked so good with his dick in my mouth.

Narumi’s look of disappointment quickly changed when I stood up and slid my pants and underwear down. Narumi couldn’t stop staring as I did a small strip tease while taking off my shirt, Narumi pumping his length while I did so. I stumbled onto his lap. Narumi was quick to lean back, attempting to line himself up. When he was aligned, I slowly slid down, Narumi throwing his head back, moaning. I gently bounced on his lap while readjusting to fit him inside. When I started picking up speed, Narumi attacked my collarbones, leaving love bites and traces of himself. The closer Narumi got, the more dirty talk he would use, telling me how I was his good girl and he was the only one that is allowed or even could fuck me this good. My moans got louder when his thumb roughly started rubbing circles on my clit. The feel of his fingers tugging me to the edge while his length continuously hit my g-stop was too much, but I was unable to stop, chasing my high. I started to feel the coil in my stomach come undone and my head start to go fuzzy, I stopped riding as vigorously. Narumi took over, thrusting up into me, finally pushing the last part of me over the edge. I didn’t realise until i had come down from my high that Narumi had also reached his. I could feel him throbbing inside me and the hot liquid lining me.

We stayed in the same position for a while, Narumi still inside me, while we rested. Eventually, we got up to clean up. Both heading to the shower together.

“Hey (First name), now that I’ve dicked you down that good, will you let me take you on a date?”

“I’ll consider it when you apologise to my dad for not visiting him.”

We both started splashing water at each other, giggling while doing so.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard your laugh. I really missed you (First name).”

“I really missed you too Gen.”

#kaiju #kaiju no 8 #gen #narumi #gen narumi #x reader #gen narumi x reader #fluff #angst #smut #hasegawa

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shirtlesssammy · 1 year

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The Winchesters 1x13: Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye

Detroit, Michigan

1972

John Winchester, freshly home from Vietnam, enters a bus station. He doesn’t know what he’s doing (aside from burying a friend, RIP Murph.) He takes a bus schedule from a kindly attendant and sits down on a bench and stares into the abyss for a while.

Important Dialog Alert!

Dean: John Winchester?

John: Sir

Crops watered, skin hydrated, etc.

ALSO DEAN IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

I literally blacked out. I don’t know what’s happening right now, and I don’t care. I’m going to float on this bearded, pea coat wearing cloud forever. (Also, [Boris] can exist in two simultaneous worlds where Cas is in the Empty and Dean has to save him still (99.9% of her fanfic thoughts) and Cas is in Heaven and Dean dresses all fancy for him for reasons.)

But for archival purposes, Dean hands John the fateful letter from Henry. John opens it and wonders where the mystery man got it, but he’s gone.

Okay, he’s not gone, he’s just in the atrium watching over John WITH BOBBY!!! He tells Dean he isn’t supposed to be meddling. Dean counters that he didn’t really meddle, he just gave things a nudge. Bobby tells Dean to pay attention to things “here” and he’ll gather the cavalry. “One last hunt,” they both agree.

OVER OUR DEAD BODIES. ALL THE HUNTS. ALL THE STORIES. KEEP THEM COMING FOREVER!

Cue cool new title card!

At Casa Campbell, Samuel confronts Mary about her application (and decline??) to KSU. She tells him she doesn’t want to keep hunting but she doesn’t know what her future holds. Since Samuel is home, Mary guesses he has news. He tells her that he talked to a hunter named Joan who has information about a guy who the Akrida is afraid of. He asks Mary what John thinks about her college non-dreams. (Um, who cares? Sigh.) He doesn’t know because he’s busy worrying about the Akrida, and more immediately, the crystal that will help (BUT AT WHAT COST, ADA!?!)

John, in his best cursed Dean flannel, tells his mom about the crystal and its one-and-done usage (Is this a god object? I guess maybe not? Why would Chuck create these creatures to destroy humanity and then have an object that can defeat said creatures? Why does Chuck do anything?) Millie wonders about the future for John and Mary.

At the clubhouse, Carlos states the IMPORTANT OBSERVATIONS. “Well, whoever this guy is, he is ruggedly handsome.”

Lata is superhuman and not affected by the mystery man (just get to know him a little, girl!) They think the mystery man can defeat the Akrida because he is “not of this world.” The Akrida attack is imminent. They look longingly at the crystal for their salvation. Ada decides to drop the soul-bomb, if you will. She has to utter one word and the crystal is activated. They agree to maybe wait on that little bit. Carlos and Ada head out to find the queen while Lata hangs back to look into the lore. She wants to find a way to help Ada grow back her soul if this is the way.

At a bar, Samuel, Mary, and John meet up with Joan (Hopkins). Joan tells Samuel their families used to hunt together, but her family died out with her “a long time ago.” She tells them about the man with no name. He was digging into the Akrida. But that’s okay because she used the Akrida portal and threw him “and his car” into the abyss. “No human can survive that.” Oh, sweet summer child. Chuck always thought he was king shit, but he’s got NOTHING on free will. She has a journal that looks a lot like John’s journal but ~isn’t~. Mary draws a knife, but Joan tells them they’re in her world now. The rest of the bar’s clientele rise. SHE’S THE AKRIDA QUEEN!

She’s not Akrida apparently. She was a hunter once. She wants them to join her (and to get them out of the clubhouse so she could move in, oops.) LATA!

Mary and John end up in her attic, while Samuel scouts out the clubhouse (guarded) and hunts for the portal. Carlos and Ada show up and they realize that Lata is still in the clubhouse with the Akrida.

Joan wanders the clubhouse calling for Lata. Our brave pacifist tries fighting.

And cue Classic Robbie Thompson multi-scene mashup!

While Mary spills the beans on Joan (b. 1673, reluctant hunter), Joan tells Lata her life story (lost her family to hunting, decided humans are WORTHLESS (amen).) Lata wonders if the monster essence drove her mad (Mary: yep. She decided to wipe out everyone who needed saving. Hunters + MoL teamed up and banished her from the world.) Joan wants to show Lata how the magical little bugs are cool and shit, but Lata stabs her because she does not care. Things do not go well.

At Mary’s home, Carlos has an idea. “Was this idea inspired by a drug induced trip I took a few years ago? Yes. Are we judging me for that right now?” he wonders. NO, YOU BRILLIANT SOUL. The others agree! Carlos wonders if they can use the Ostium to bring the mystery man back to them to help. YES!

At the clubhouse, Joan and a possessed Lata set the place on fire to open the portal. Seems dangerous, but I’ll allow it for narrative progression.

The gang rushes to the clubhouse to find a possessed Lata telling them they have one more chance to join Joan’s team. “How many Campbells and Winchesters have to die? And for what? History? Legacy?”

She then goes on to tell them that the Akrida were created by an angry god as a failsafe. They were designed to wipe out all life on all universes (EVEN SQUIRREL WORLD!) “Lata” finishes her little speech and holds a knife to her neck. Without hesitation, Ada brings out the crystal and utters the fateful word. Lata is saved.

At the garage, Lata tells the team everything she’s learned. The queen is at full strength, and she’ll have the portal open by that night (Samuel found the portal at least!) They just need to feed the Ostium the journal and wham! Mystery Man! They need to kill some time until midnight when they can work their magic.

John pulls Mary aside as they’re heading out. He tells her to stay behind. At first I roll my eyes like, TYPICAL MAN AMIRITE? But instead, he tells her that she’s their general and needs to stay behind so she can lead the Mystery Man into battle when he zaps back into their world. She says she has to tell him something but he defers that conversation for later, and departs.

Fun fact. I watch these with closed captions while I do my recap, and I’m pleased to say that not only did this week’s closed caption actually correctly translate Carlos’s “querida” to Ada this time, but the next scene opens with the caption over the portal: OTHERWORLDLY WHOOSHING. I love to see it! The Akrida queen holds her palms to the air, where a swirling blue portal otherworldly whooshes. She rolls her eyes and the portal closes as she turns. It’s the Scooby Gang! “Hello, boys.”

The team pulls out swords as Akrida materialize for the fight.

While fisticuffs ensue, the women plonk the diary into the Ostium. It gets sucked in and at first it seems like nothing happens. Then Millie points out that something DID happen and the camera pans out to reveal….BABY! The first licks of The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” start up and the music shivers down my spine. I swear, I didn’t get to watch the episode until Friday so I KNEW what was coming (thanks Tumblr) but I am still. SO. AFFECTED.

The car is empty (like our hearts without Dean) but Mary points out that the car is still not of this earth. “Detroit steel makes a hell of a weapon,” Millie announces as they all pile inside.

Back with the Akrida, the fight persists. It’s not looking good for our hunters. The queen reveals that the Men of Letters tried to fight her, so she used the last of her power to wipe out the MoL, including Henry Winchester.

Mary pulls up in the car and lines it up with the queen (and John). She orders everyone out juuuuuuust in case she perishes. She guns it towards the queen, who notices the car and opens a portal. In an instant, the car squishes into the queen and all three, uh, entities, disappear into the portal. The Akrida-possessed humans drop their weapons and run, no longer possessed. I can’t blame them for fleeing the sword fight they found themselves in! The boys are JUST starting to mourn Mary’s sacrifice, when a portal zaps open and the Impala races back out! This time, there are TWO people in the car! (ohmygodohmygodohmygoditishim)

For Dimensional Portal to My Heart Science:

Dean Winchester gets out of the car and surveys the fighters. He pulls Mary out of the passenger’s seat, very much alive!

Dean looks at his parents-not-parents emotionally. “There’s not a lot that can tear me apart,” he tells them. YEAH! I shout, punching the air. “I’m already dead,” he says, and I make a little disgruntled cat frown, and knock over a glass of water.

He tells them he was stuck “in the world between worlds” and hopped into Baby and grabbed the wheel as soon as he saw his car passing through. Like. LITERALLY BABY IS A TIME AND SPACE TRAVELING MACHINE PLEASE LET THIS CONCEIT CONTINUE.

Ahem. Anyway. Samuel asks the big question: who’s the mystery man? Dean introduces himself as a hunter from another world. He made it to Heaven, hopped into Baby, and went for a drive….into the multi-verse. As one does. “I was looking for my family,” he tells them. He wanted to find a version of Earth where his family had a shot at a happy ending. When he was driving, he caught wind of the Akrida, one of Chuck’s last creations. He knew the Akrida would try to devour his world too. We also get a nod that Carlos IS still alive in his world! I pinch Robbie’s cheeks and tell him he’s done a very good job. A very good job indeed.

And what about the letter to John? Well, “the rules were simple. Don’t mess with anything. Well, I gave it a little nudge.” THAT’S RIGHT YOU DID BABY! “You all can choose your own destiny,” he tells them ICONICALLY.

Jack and Bobby appear. Dean assures the Scooby Gang that they’re cool. Bobby greets him with a grimace. They’re in trouble with Jack, who set up the worlds to prevent interference from “on high.” Dean argues that the Akrida fight needed to happen to protect his own family as well as the people we’ve grown to love during this season. “If you want to cast me out of heaven, so be it.” Bobby lobbies for a second chance for Dean Winchester. We lobby for like, at least 60-70 chances. Maybe a million? Girls don’t want flowers. They want dimension-tripping Dean Winchester.

“If you’re going to meddle with things,” Jack announces, “finish what you started.” He hands Dean something (and encourages Dean to rest in Heaven - as IF). Dean heads to his parents-not-parents. His dad left him his journal, he tells them. “I lived my whole life by that damn thing,” he says with the perfect mix of love and regret. “This is my hunter’s journal. So if you’re gonna stay in this game, this’ll help guide you through it.” He hands it to John.

Dean tells Mary that he understands her desire to quit hunting. He also tells her to keep an eye out for a yellow-eyed demon and if she even catches “a hint of that son of a bitch” she should use…the COLT. He hands her the gun that Jack gave him, and she asks him if he found a version of his family with a shot at a happy ending. Dean surveys everyone and announces, “I think I did.”

John asks Dean’s name and he smiles a little. “Hetfield. James Hetfield,” he tells them. I think about how Metallica was “Dean’s music” in season one and experience feelings. Dean, Jack, Bobby, and Baby flash out of the world.

The Scooby Gang looks around at each other. It’s time to go home.

We get a montage. Lata and Ada unfurl plant magic and what looks like Ada’s soul wisps back into her body. I have to pause the show and cry a little bit because it’s JUST BEAUTIFUL.

“It’ll take time..” Lata says as Ada feels her soul kindling again, but they did it!

Samuel drives away on another journey, leaving John and Mary to reconnect at the movie theater. John asks Mary what she saw in the portal. Oh, nothing. She just saw EVERY POSSIBLE VERSION OF HERSELF. Badass! She’s going to make her own way, but for that she needs to leave and find herself. John tells her that he’s going to work on the anger that rides inside him so he can be a better hunter and a better person. “No goodbyes,” he tells her, and they kiss.

In the garage the team, minus Mary, talk over a new case. It’s by a BEACH. “Werewolves don’t surf,” Carlos says. “Only one way to find out,” Lata chirps and I NEED TO SEE THIS EPISODE LIKE I NEED AIR.

A bell tinkles and John heads out to find Mary waiting outside, leaning against her car. She asks John to come with her on a road to self discovery. In the car, John pulls out a box of tapes. Sorry, babe, but Mary was reading Hetfield’s journal and he was VERY SPECIFIC on the topic. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake hole,” she tells him, poetically. Mary is literally and figuratively in the driver’s seat, and I couldn’t be happier.

Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On (Boris: Led Fucking Zeppelin!! A band that does not license their music! And when they do it’s often in the 7 figures!! And it’s Dean’s favorite band! And his favorite song! And when spn couldn’t do/or didn’t want to do it, Mr. Jackles (and co.) DID IT!!) plays us out as they smile and drive through sunlit fields. (Help! My heart!) Hope spreads like sweet air, like sun-warmed ground. They drive off to a montage of their adventures…SO FAR.

Natasha: From reading Tumblr before actually viewing the episode, I was sliding hard into the Jack-is-Chuck theory. Now that I’ve seen it, I’ve settled into a happy middle place where Jack-is-Jack or Jack-is-corrupted-by-God\-powers or Jack-is-Chuck could all be equally plausible. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me too much because Dean. Is. Alive. He’s got a dimension-hopping car, and the story possibilities are boundless. I hope we get more of The Winchesters, and more Supernatural, and other worlds as well. I dearly want the SUPERNATURAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE and frankly, I deserve it because we ALL deserve nice things! The Winchesters is like Supernatural, but also it’s own lovely little thing with a lot more hope and beauty than we got in the “mothership.” I want more. Just like that little soul plant, I want to see where the story grows.

See You Next Quote-son!

One last hunt…

Whatever this guy is, he is ruggedly handsome

“The queen is about ot sing her swan song. We can’t rewind this tape here.” “What if we could rewind the tape?”

For the first time, I’m running towards hope

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spnwin #spnwin spoilers #spnwin recap #the winchesters #spn #mary campbell #john winchester #ada monroe #carlos cervantez #latika desai #millie winchester #dean winchester #spnwin 1x13 #hey that's no way to say goodbye

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moonchildridden · 1 year

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Love In The Air Episode 12: Weather Forecast and the Winds Of Change

It’s been a week since the episode aired, I’m still not over it, my sleep schedule is still fucked up, my emotions are still all over the place and I’m fresh off from a flu that left me feeling like a zombie for the entire week, and because of that I hope you guys don’t expect this to make actual sense because I’m just going by what I think the weather forecast meant considering what happened during the episode.

So, get ready because here comes Moonchild with another weather forecast breakdown post, that is late because it was supposed to have been finished two days ago, so you guys can appreciate how thoughtful the production team is with these things.

Anyways, the episode 12′s weather forecast was so interconnected with the name of the episode that when I actually discovered that, it was just *chief’s kiss*. I feel like a broken record at this point because I keep saying how clever is the usage of the weather forecast to drop clues about the tone of the episode and how it shows the development stage of the relationship between PrapaiSky, which considering the impact that what happened on the episode left on PrapaiSky, I dare to say that things were bound to get shaken and things were bound to change.

The title of this post is not an accident.

Let’s start off by talking about the weather forecast, before laying down the connection it has with the name of the episode. The weather forecast mentions that a monsoon would cause weather changes across the country and, again, because English is not my first language and I barely remember my elementary school science classes, I had to search exactly what a monsoon was, and that search wielded back pretty interesting results.

A monsoon could be defined as:

1 - Traditionally a seasonal reversing wind accompanied by corresponding changes in precipitation, now used to describe seasonal changes in atmospheric circulation and precipitation;

2 - The rainy phase of a seasonally changing pattern, although technically there is also a dry phase. The term is also sometimes used to describe locally heavy but short-term rains;

3 - Seasonal change in the direction of the prevailing, or strongest, winds of a region;

4 - Weather phenomenon linked more to a wind shift rather than precipitation. In fact, the name "monsoon" is derived from the Arabic word "mausim" which means "season" or "wind-shift".

5 - Weather phenomenon caused by a change in the direction of the wind that happens when the seasons change.

The definitions may seem a bit repetitive, but I brought all of those to show that, although some people define monsoon differently, they all share one thing in common, that is the fact that a monsoon represents a shift or change between seasons, and it is related to the movement of the wind. Trying to explain this the best way I can to make sure we are all on the same page, a monsoon only happens when the wind shifts its direction, meaning that there are things that make the wind change its natural course of direction and that, in turn, causes the monsoon.

Are we clear about this? I hope so.

Now, I wanna do something different and say that this episode can be divided in stages (or changes) that when analyzed in sequence, can be attributed the things that would eventually cause the monsoon to happen:

1. The season changing patterns: Sky showing concern for Prapai, them going shopping together, their “love confession” on the room they had sex for the first time;

The episode started with Prapai on Sky’s room, helping him in another project, and the moment Pai hurts himself with the x-act, Sky runs to him, visibly worried and starts attending Pai’s wound, while Pai is smiling and feeling happy that Sky is slowly starting to show how important he is for him and that the nonchalant attitude Sky has is merely a front to hide his real feelings. This scene alone shows how much comfortable Sky became in asking Pai for help, comfortable in being in his presence and to let Pai be more involved in his life, also that Sky is starting to take Pai’s words of assurance more seriously and Pai is honoring the things he say and show to Sky.

Both of them are starting to create a path where both of them can walk together, taking their relationship further step by step.

After that, PrapaiSky basically behave like a couple, with Sky allowing Pai to touch him in public (Pai’s hand on Sky’s waist while they are on the mall), not outright “dismissing” his flirting attempts, taking Pai to eat his favorite food, stuff like that. On Prapai’s side, we had him take Sky to the room where they had sex for the first time and, while in the room where all the unforgettable action happened, he exposes how much Sky had been ingrained in his mind, how much deeper his feeling for Sky had become in the past weeks and his desire to stay by Sky’s side as long as his life allowed him to, situation that prompted Sky to tentatively expose on his own way exactly what he wanted from Prapai (the “I want you to kiss me” and “I want you to like me” were sentences that carried a longevity desire, not only something for that moment that they were having) while accepting Pai’s confession in the process, and opening space for them to make their relationship official.

While this was a big change, none of this was responsible for our literary monsoon to exist, meaning that these were not the things that caused the wind to shift its direction. This is because a monsoon happens when there is a shift in the wind direction and this shift happens because the temperature of the land and the temperature of the water are different as seasons change, meaning that there needs to be a big difference between two forces to cause the change, and the scene in Pai’s room was more of a convergence of feelings that than a collision between two opposing actions

2. The changes on the wind direction: the party, Sky “breaking up” with Prapai, Prapai going to Sky’s room;

In Chinese, the word “sad” is “shang xin”, whose roots are from the word “Human” plus “Li” that means “force” and the word “xin” that means “heart”. When these two are combined, it’s like two people using force against each other’s heart, which means “sad”. This precious knowledge was taken from I Told Sunset About You’s episode 2 but I decided to bring it here to use as an example of how the all thing about two forces opposing to each other can be so impactful to the point of causing big changes.

The change that actually starts causing effects is when Sky begins ghosting Prapai, making up excuses not to see him, ignoring his calls and only sending messages when it is to say that they cannot meet because he was busy. Considering that this behavior was not normal on Sky, and sensing that something was wrong, Pai then goes after Sky, just to find out that he hasn’t been in his room for the past days and without other alternative, he simply goes back and tries to think on his next move.

(A fun fact that I wanna share here is that monsoons were once considered as a large-scale sea breeze and, if there is one thing that the man in the photos ISN’T is a sea breeze. This man right here was a brewing thunderstorm.)

The opposition of forces between them (the difference of temperature involved in a monsoon) is shown in great detail during the phone call where Sky breaks up with Pai, and how Pai reacted to it. Using the land and the water as analogies to Prapai and Sky, Sky as the land (calling back to the name of episode 10, “Could You Be the Sky That Becomes My Destination?” and also because the sky is something that remains in the same place) is the cold temperature, or at least tries to embody a cold front, by being as heartless he could with Prapai, saying that everything that happened between them was just a game for him, that he was tired of pretending to be a pitiful boy and that it was for Pai to stop calling him because it was annoying.

Prapai as the water (more like because between them, he’s the one associated with a moving weather phenomenon) is the embodiment of a hot temperature, because he was the one expressing his real feelings, not angry enough to be said that he was fuming with rage but heated enough to be very noticeable, telling Sky that he had been worried about him for the past two weeks, that his patience also had a limit, how confused he was about all of that when they had made their relationship official when they were in his room and refusing to believe in Sky’s words, saying to himself that Sky was not that kind of person, that the boy he loves was not that kind of person, and also refusing to give up.

This opposition, this difference of temperature between the land and the water was the beginning on the creation of the monsoon.

3. The monsoon: the diary scene

Remember when I said that Sky was the land, Prapai was the water, and the “breakup” scene was the opposition between them? Well, now we turn back to the weather forecast and analyze the second part of it, because until now we only talked about the monsoon itself and not the effects that the monsoon would cause: changes across the country. What the “country” is in this situation, you may ask? Well, is their relationship.

And this is where the name of the episode, “when the sky surrenders to the wind”, comes into play.

When I talked about the weather forecast in my post about the parallels between the episode 8 and episode 10, I said that the name of the episode sets the tone of the events of the episode and the weather forecast serves as a complement of that, giving us a full view of the events we are going to see being transpired during the episode. In this case, is no different but this episode we cannot take the name at face value but understand what exactly the word “surrender” here means.

When you search for the meaning of the word “surrender”, various results appear, such as:

1 – to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand; (“yield” implies concession or compliance or submission to force)

2 – to give up completely or agree to forgo especially in favor of another;

3 – the action of yielding one’s person or giving up the possession of something especially into the power of another;

4 – to agree to stop fighting, hiding, resisting, etc., because you know that you will not win or succeed;

5 – to give the control or use of (something) to someone else.

I like to bring multiple definitions because it can give you guys an idea of how a certain situation can make you view a word in a different way that you would in a different situation. Usually, when you surrender to someone, it is because the other person exerted so much pressure and force upon you that the only way our you found was to give up and accept whatever they wanted you to do or give whatever they wanted from you, it implies compliance, giving yourself completely, without reservation, without barriers. The diary scene can be interpreted as Pai using his influence/power (him being in possession of Sky’s diary and reading what was written there out loud) over Sky but we need to understand that the ultimate goal of Pai was not a love confession, was an explanation of why Sky was acting like that, if everything was ok and what could he do to make things better.

While the diary was the answer to most of his questions, he still needed to listen to Sky talk, express his feelings and thoughts, so that they could communicate with each other and fix whatever issue they had between them.

I want you guys to imagine this scenario: the person you love, someone you just made your relationship official with, someone you’ve spent the last month or so knowing better, having new experiences with, suddenly starts ghosting you, giving you excuses as to why you guys won’t be able to meet up, doesn’t answer your calls, is not in their room so you have not idea where to find them, makes you worried about them, so when you decide to use an unknown number to call them and they finally answer the phone, you have to hear them say that everything that happened between you two was just a pretend from their part, that everything they said to you was a lie, and that they were bored of you, so because of that you should just stop calling them because it was annoying.

You don’t believe them (“dammit, I don’t fucking believe it”), of course, after all you know they are not like that (“Sky’s not that kind of person. The boy I love’s not that kind of person”), so you decide to go search for answers and the only place you are almost 100% certain that you’ll find the answers is their room, the place where basically all the important moments of your relationship happened (except for the officialization of said relationship). You also know that they won’t be there, after all they’ve been MIA for two weeks, so you use the key you had but never had any reason to use because they would always be there to open the door for you, you get in and you start searching for anything that could help you understand what the hell was happening.

And so, you find a notebook. You’ve seen them writing there a few times, hiding hurriedly every time you walked into the room, so you go for it and open, hoping to see anything that could help you. You start reading, each sentence making you realize that yes, you were right in not believing in the words they said to you earlier that day, but things were more complicated than you realized. The person you love is in pain, for so long, hiding their real feelings, their thoughts, their desires, their fears, and you didn’t see any of it, because they were so used to mask those things that it ended up going past you as well. The things you managed to see, how they always ask for help with their eyes, the nightmares, the hesitation, it was because they allowed you to see, they trusted you, the lowered their guard next to you, and only because of that you saw that; and now, you had access to everything they thought about, everything they wanted from you, everything they were afraid you would do, and none of that had come directly from them.

You had to force your way into their space to know that. You had to use your power to have access to that information. And now you needed to find them and confront them.

Until the moment Sky got into his room, found out Pai was there and Pai started reading his diary, both of them were still opposite forces from each other, because both of them wanted different things in that room: Pai went there looking for answers, Sky went there to get his things and leave the room for good because there were too many memories of them in there and he needed to get away from it. None of them expected to see the other to be there, none of them were ready to really confront the other but only one of them had the power to make actual changes that night: Prapai, the monsoon.

People need to understand that Pai reading what was written in the diary out loud was a way of confronting Sky with the words he wrote and did not say with the things he said on the phone, both instances where Pai was not present. Pai was also giving voice, turning those words real, making Sky face them head on, instead of just keep them hidden from view. And when he made all of those questions, if the person that wrote that was the same that enjoyed putting a player like him in his place, if when Sky was writing in that notebook he was also acting, that he knew Pai would find the key and enter the room to read it, if the notebook was full of lies too, Pai was expecting an answer from Sky because those accusations were empty, a taunting tactic to make Sky realize that Pai knew who Sky was, knew that he wasn’t that manipulative and knew that everything he just read was true, in contrast to the words he said on the phone; in that moment, Pai was literally the personification of Sky’s inner turmoil, inner struggle and fear.

It was no coincidence that the scene took place in Sky’s room. Sky’s room is the only place where Sky feels safe enough to just be himself, to live his life the way he wants, even if for just a few hours before having to put up a front and go to the real world. That room was like a box, where all the facets from Sky were kept and having Pai there, when he was not supposed to be, being aware of what Sky was keeping locked from him and giving voice to them was like forcing Sky to face everything that was happening at once, outside of his control. Pai confessing his love first (“it’s unfair for you to say it first, right?”) also wasn’t a coincidence, because what Sky needed the most in that moment was not give a leap of faith hoping that Pai could be there to catch him, but to fully jump knowing that Pai would be there to catch him and hold his hand; that’s why Pai started by saying that he didn’t like Sky anymore, before saying that he loved Sky, because Sky had been wary of the idea of Pai liking him, but hearing that Pai loved him, even after reading everything written on that notebook, seeing that Pai had gone there, looking for him, was willing to fight for him, to see beyond his bullshit, was the last hit into the walls that were separating both of them, the walls that wouldn’t allow Sky to say all of the things he wrote on the note book out loud.

Pai put himself in a vulnerable situation, saying that he loved Sky first, because he needed to send the message that it was ok for Sky to be vulnerable with him, that it was ok for Sky to feel the way he did, because Pai also felt the same way.

When the sky surrenders to the wind – I love you, P’Pai

When the sky surrenders to the wind – I love you, I love you, I love you so much

When the sky surrenders to the wind – I love you, I love you so much. Please don’t leave me. Stay with me. Don’t go away

The “surrender” in Sky’s case was him realizing that Prapai was there to stay and wouldn’t go anywhere. The “surrender” was Sky realizing that he was allowed to express his feelings without fearing that Pai would use them against him. The “surrender” was Sky willingly and freely giving to Pai the last source of control he had in that relationship, that was the knowledge of his feelings. The “surrender” was Sky agreeing to stop fighting his feelings, hiding his feelings, resisting the force and impact of his feelings, because he knew that he would not win or succeed in doing that for much longer, not when Pai was waving his love, their love, in front of them.

Their relationship changed a lot through the episode, from them acting like a couple, to them being a couple, then breaking up and them getting back together. Each one of those changes are significant for their story because it was showing how much Pai and Sky, two people that weren’t really kin in finding love, were starting to build something together, giving each other a reason to really dive into those feelings and cherish them the best they could, but the most important change was the one that happened in that room, that night, when Pai gave Sky reasons to stop his resistance, to believe in him, in them, to take that final step, to let himself love, and Sky, just bursting out in tears, without being able to hold it any longer, surrendered himself to Pai.

This episode was emotionally intense. It was intense because it forced both of them to make decisions based on their perception of how things were going, forced them to clash against each other, it put them in different stances and create a heavy environment between them. We saw how Sky deals with his trauma, this time in the realm of relationship, we saw how Pai is someone that may look a bit shallow to some people but he has a good instinct and is strong headed enough to stand by what he believes, and also that he’s willing to fight for the people he love, even when those people try to push him away the worst way possible.

Both of them needed this monsoon, this clashing, this confrontation, to happen, so they could start over on the right foot and be on the same page with each other. Pain brought them closer, made them stronger, made them see each other better, with new understanding. It’s not going to be easy, nothing good in life is easy, but when you put your heart into the things you want and you do, the universe works in your favor, even when all hope seem lost.

After all, fortune do favors the bold, and nothing screams “bold” more than a cheeky little hot wind god fighting for his sky.

#lita #lita prapaisky #loveintheair #love in the air #love in the air episode 12 #lita meta #prapaisky #prapai x sky #skyprapai #sky x prapai #unofficial prapaisky support group #sky protection squad

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belligerentmistletoe · 6 months

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Drinking Game / Bingo

( special Indian movies)

1 sip every time :

- butt / abs / boobs shot.

- per outfit change during musical numbers

- product placement ( +1 if it's pepsi)

- dramatic sound effect

- wrist grab

- slap in the face

- almost kiss

- tilt of the mustache

- dizzying circular dolly shot

- ugly crying

- random instance of nationalism (Vande mataram! / Jai Hind)

- arranged marriage (+ 1 if it's between cousins)

- belly pinch

- way too much dust

- way to much wind ( fan obviously pointed at actors) +1 if indoors

- usage of sign language

- ref to antother existing indian movie / actor ( +1 if it's Titanic)

- freeze frame

-Man vs the machine (man wins)

- Screeching tires ( +1 on dirt)

- hey! ( ray)

- poor taste in jewellery (+1 for oversised watchband)

- bangles are the girls best friend

- eagles screeching

- color lenses ( +1 for men )

- ugly wig

- puncture tire to pick up girls

- off with their head !

- Menacing Tongue / finger

- caracter and actor have the same name

- the drag of the shirt from the back to signify being cool or about to get real.

- 5 years old level of manipulation *and it works*

Level hardcore :

- Glass breaks

- head bobble/wobble

1 Shot for:

- Intermission

- Random gratuitous guest appearance ( don't try this one with Om shanti Om, you've been warned..)

- Title drop

- Train scene

- Actually kiss

- Rain scene

Adding the sensitive ones behind the line

- suicide ( attempt / theat)

- rape (attempt/ threat)

#drink game #indian movies #feel free to add suggestions #how to get drunk #desi movies #alcohol is injourious to health #don't play unsupervised

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theycallmebecca · 1 year

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Drabble: What Women Want

It's week one over at @the-slumberparty and this is my submission for the "I Spy Challenge". I went back and forth between writing this for Ari Levinson or Andy Barber and I decided at the last minute to make it for Andy... mostly because I've already written something for Ari for the sleepover.

Title: What Women Want

Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader

Rating: PG

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

It's a Tuesday night, which means you and your best friend, Andy, are hanging out in your apartment watching hockey.

With the game in an intermission, you are looking at your phone while Andy listens to the intermission report.

"What do women even want for Valentine's Day?" he asks.

Confused, you look up at him, but then you hear the end of the jewelry commercial that you assume prompted his question.

"Are you looking to buy a woman a gift?" you ask, hesitantly. You don't think he's seeing someone, but you suppose it's possible. You learned early in your friendship with Andy that he was a one-and-done with sexual partners and it was easier to not even ask about it.

He gives an 'are you serious' look.

"You're the one who asked a loaded question," you reply, defensively. You refuse to admit, even to yourself, that you had been worried by the idea that he might be seeing someone. You're just best friends. It's all you'll ever be.

The game comes back from intermission, temporarily distracting you both from the conversation, much to your relief.

Andy is an amazing best friend. He is caring and he is the best gift giver, in your opinion. You've never gotten a bad gift from him. Whether it's Christmas or your birthday, the gifts he's given you have always felt personal and well thought out. There have even been times he's given you a gift that you didn't know you needed or wanted.

As the game goes to commercial, you say, "Women want to feel appreciated and loved."

Andy turns his face towards you, giving you his full attention.

"Flowers, chocolates and whatever are nice," you say. "But it's the thought behind them. Was the bouquet just a random one from the store or are they her favorite flowers? Is the chocolate just the cheapest one or her favorites?"

He rubs his chin as he considers your answer and then nods his head. "Makes sense," he says.

The game comes back and the conversation is dropped.

You think nothing of it until you get home from work on Valentine's Day and find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bar of your favorite expensive chocolate sitting on your coffee table. You know it doesn't mean anything behind a friendly gesture because it's Andy, but as you smell the flowers, you let yourself dream, for a nanosecond, that it does mean more.

#navy and roo’s sleepover #theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #Andy Barber #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber fan fiction #Andy Barber x you #Andy Barber x female reader #Andy Barber x y/n #Becca writes drabbles

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clusterfuck-dom · 2 years

Note

Connor the android sent by cyberlife?

WIP II

Sub Connor x Dom Reader

Connor and Sniper Mask are currently fighting each other for the Poster Slut of Clusterfuck-dom(TM) title. Also, this one turned out pretty tame, but it’s a draft I’ve really wanted to get out there.

18+ / NSFW CONTENT.

Reader is gender neutral.

Contains: slight anxiety, mentions of the Traci case, usage of “baby boy.”

Before you could finish the last button on his dress shirt, a hand shot up to grab your wrist. Your movements halted immediately as your eyes scanned Connor’s face for any sign of distress. “Connor? What is it?”

Just as you feared, there indeed seemed to be apprehension written all over the android’s face. His eyes were slightly wide and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. You’ve never seen him so… scared before. Was this whole night a bad idea after all? Did he really not want this, despite saying he did before?

“I… have something I need to tell you, (Y/N),” he firmly declared in typical Connor fashion. Despite how he anxiously played with the hem of his shirt, he managed to keep his voice calm.

Your hands moved away from his body completely. Deciding to give him some space, you got off of him completely so he could sit up a little. Your gaze fell on his hands, and how he continued to fiddle with his shirt.

Connor hesitated for a few moments. There was a brilliant flush that covered his cheeks, and you couldn’t tell if it was from your earlier antics or whatever he wanted to say. While his LED turned yellow, he finally found the courage to speak. “I-I’ve never done this… sex, I mean.”

After a beat of silence, you released the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. So, that was it, huh? “Connor,” you began, a soft, reassuring smile crossing your features. “I know that I’m your first. You told me, remember?”

He stared at you for a few moments before bashfully looking away. “It’s just… back at the Eden’s Club…”

He completely trailed off. A flash of red showed up in his LED before returning back to yellow. You could feel your heart drop, knowing exactly where this was going.

The man that killed the Traci…

As much as you wanted to stop him, to tell him you would never do that, you figured it was best to give him some time to put his thoughts in order. He continued to stare off into nothingness before turning his timid eyes back to you. “Will… you be gentle? It’s my first time.”

“Oh, Connor…” you placed a hand on his own gently, eyes never leaving his precious face. “I would never do something like that to you. What that man did…” you decided not to finish your sentence for Connor’s sake. “No. That will never happen, baby boy.” As if to seal the promise, you gingerly brought his hand to your lips and planted a kiss on his knuckles. “Never to my sweet baby boy.”

The brunette’s LED began to glow blue. Whatever tension was in his body immediately left, and he brought your hand back down to the last button. “(Y/N),” he softly keened, chocolate eyes shining with pure devotion. There was so much trust — so much love — that radiated from his gaze, you thought your heart was going to burst. When he felt your hand clutch around the button, he laid his arms above his head as though he was yielding his entire body for you.

“I’m ready for you.”

#⇢ DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN #⇢ CONNOR #⇢ CONNOR X READER

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bappy585801 · 9 months

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YouTube can be a powerful tool for enhancing your online business in several ways:

Massive Reach: YouTube is the second-largest search engine in the world (after Google) and has over 2 billion logged-in monthly users. This vast audience gives you the potential to reach a global market and attract a wide range of potential customers.

Visual Engagement: Video content is highly engaging and can convey your brand message more effectively than text or images alone. Videos allow you to showcase your products, services, and their benefits in a dynamic and visually appealing manner.

Building Brand Identity: YouTube helps you establish and reinforce your brand identity. Through videos, you can showcase your company culture, values, and the people behind the business. This creates a personal connection with your audience and fosters trust.

Educational Content: You can create educational videos that provide value to your target audience. Sharing knowledge related to your industry, demonstrating product usage, or addressing common problems can position your business as an authority and build trust with potential customers.

Search Engine Visibility: YouTube videos often appear in Google search results. By optimizing your video titles, descriptions, and tags with relevant keywords, you can improve your online visibility and draw organic traffic to your videos and subsequently to your website.

Storytelling: Videos allow you to tell stories that resonate with your audience. Sharing stories about your brand's journey, customer success stories, or behind-the-scenes content can create an emotional connection and make your business more relatable.

Social Sharing and Virality: Engaging and shareable content has the potential to go viral on platforms like YouTube. Viral videos can lead to a sudden surge in visibility, subscribers, and ultimately, potential customers.

Monetization: If your business model allows for it, you can monetize your YouTube channel through ads, sponsored content, or by promoting your products and services directly within your videos.

Analytics and Insights: YouTube provides detailed analytics that help you understand your audience's behavior. You can see which videos are most popular, where viewers drop off, and other metrics that can guide your content strategy.

Diversified Content: YouTube accommodates various types of content, such as tutorials, reviews, vlogs, webinars, and more. This diversity allows you to experiment with different formats to find what resonates best with your audience.

Enhanced SEO for Your Website: Embedding your YouTube videos on your website can enhance its SEO. Engaging multimedia content can increase the time visitors spend on your site, lower bounce rates, and improve your overall search engine rankings.

Customer Interaction: YouTube's comment section allows you to engage directly with viewers. Responding to comments and fostering discussions can help build a community around your brand.

#youtube #youtube marketing #video viral #youtube video #onlinemarketing #digitalmarketing

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litcityblues · 1 year

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Doctor Whoquest Part Three: Smith, Season 1

The debut season of Matt Smith (Season 5 of Nu-Who) also marked the beginning of a new era for Nu-Who with Russell T. Davies handing over the reins to Steven Moffat. Overall, I think the Moffat era might be my favorite of the three-- though I would like to finish watching the rest of Whittaker's seasons before I lock that into place. I think his story-telling and writing are top notches and he did a lot of interesting things with the show that didn't always come back to the inevitable return of the Daleks and/or Cybermen (though, both do show up now and again throughout his tenure.)

In terms of a double-debut then, I'm going to put down a marker: 'The Eleventh Hour' is the best debut episode for any Doctor in Nu-Who- maybe any Doctor ever. It just crackles with tension, introduces the new companions (though we don't know that about Rory yet) and teases the underlying mystery for the season (the crack in the wall), and does so with a time limit of twenty minutes or so. Plus: Olivia Coleman at the very end! This moment is one of my favorite moments in all of Nu-Who and is the perfect encapsulation of what Matt Smith ends up doing with the role. He just nails it. He's quirky, he's powerful, he's fun, he's stern all in the same sequence. Absolutely steps into the role and just owns it. (Bonus: this scene as well.)

I think the biggest surprise of the season- other than the brief appearance of the colorful shiny new Daleks, was the welcome return of the Sontarans in the two-parter 'The Hungry Earth'/'Cold Blood'-- I'm not a Classic Who Fan, so maybe the Sontarans don't feel like refreshing- but at the very least, they were a deep cut and made a nice change from, you know, the inevitability of the Daleks and/or Cybermen doing something.

This was a hell of a debut season. Sontarans! Space whales! Vincent Van Gogh! A wedding! The Weeping Angels! River Song! There was a little bit of everything and while yes, there were Cybermen and Daleks they were either working with other villains against the Doctor (a new angle on their usual usage) and weren't the main focus of the Season with the sole exception of 'Victory of the Daleks.'

I think Matt Smith and Peter Capaldi might have to duke it out for the title of my favorite Doctor. We'll see how I feel at the end of the Whoquest.

Three Episodes I Liked:

'The Time of Angels'/'Flesh and Stone': We first meet River Song in 'The Silence In The Library' which is a David Tennant episode, but here, she instantly becomes the most interesting character in Doctor Who and starts an arc that spans the Moffat era and ties back perfectly to her debut in 'The Silence In The Library.' It's excellent. Love it.

'Vincent and The Doctor': Meeting historical figures is a Doctor Who specialty, for obvious reasons, but Vincent Van Gogh was a treat. I loved the way they incorporated references to his art throughout the episode and I especially loved that they took him to the future to show him that it wasn't hopeless and that he would be revered as an artist-- sadly, it doesn't help, but that was such a wild choice, I loved it. (My idea would be to have the Doctor take Dr. James Naismith to like an NBA game. No idea why, but that's always rattled around my head after watching this episode.) It's just beautiful. poignant episode.

'The Pandorica Opens'/'The Big Bang': The two-parter to end the season is perfect. It was hinted at. It ties it all back together. The Doctor is brought back in such a cool way. It's perfect. Leaves you wanting and begging for more and it's the perfect platform to jump into the next season.

Two Episodes I Didn't Like:

'Victory Of The Daleks': Okay, 'dislike' is a strong word... it's not a bad episode, but again, I have Dalek fatigue. Even though there's a decent attempt to do something a little different with them with the introduction of the Cult of Skarro, I remember when this episode first dropped, people thought the new Daleks looked like Nissan Micras, which is an apt comparison. There's a tinge of 'new colorful car' about them that doesn't exactly scream 'genocidal alien race that can now do stairs'. While the Doctor taking them on with the jammy dodger is a nice bit of Matt Smith's quirkiness at work- I didn't mind that at all. Playing Winston Churchill is always a tall order, but Ian McNeice does all right. Going back to the Blitz feels like familiar territory when there are so many new places this season ends up going.

'The Vampires of Venice': I wrestled with this one so much, but while 'The Lodger' didn't exactly knock my socks off, the conceit of The Doctor having to be somebody's roommate was just too charming, and while vampires and Venice were a nice mix and the ending where the truth is revealed and the reason they came to Venice comes out (they were on the run from the mysterious 'Silence') it just lands as broadly 'okay.'

One Episode To Consider:

'Amy's Choice': This was a really interesting one as the Doctor, Amy, and Rory flip back and forth between two realities thanks to the Dream Lord (Toby Jones). In one, Amy and Rory are married. She's pregnant and they're being chased by old people possessed by aliens. In the other, they're trapped in a powerless TARDIS heading toward a cold star that will freeze them all to death. Ultimately, Amy choices the TARDIS reality after Rory is killed in the Future Reality because she doesn't want to be in a reality without him-- which would be a pretty decent Doctor Who episode in and of itself, but the twist at the end is one you don't see coming and it speaks to the layers of the Doctor's personality that we don't see.

Overall: This season might be the strongest debut of any of the modern Doctors. Matt Smith slips into the role effortlessly and makes it his own. Moffat takes the reins and quickly puts his stamp on the show and it's excellent. I really do think, as I said above, when it's all said and done, I'm going to be debating Capaldi vs Smith in my head, but wow does Smith just leap into this with both feet. Moffat brings back different villains. Works in Cybermen and the Daleks in an interesting, creative way that you don't see coming from a mile and a half away. Just an amazing debut season from top to bottom.

My Grade: 9/10

#whoquest #doctor who #11 #season 5 #matt smith

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angelizs · 2 years

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I think something twst does really well is show the characters improving in a realistic way. No one can change overnight which makes the aftermaths of the overblots so interesting. I think it’s shown the most through Riddle during Book 2 you get to see him changing, trying to adapt now that he’s acknowledged what his mom did. You see him slowly improving and of course he isn’t perfect none of them are, but you get to see them make active efforts to better themselves- 🦭

YESSS YOU'RE SO RIGHT ONCE AGAIN 🦭 ANON!!!

I had a conversation with Gabi about Riddle in the reblogs of one of my oneshots (see here, just scroll down to the end) in which we mention a chapter of the anthology that makes this change very clear (this one!) and as you mentioned yourself in the Floyd ask, there's one chapter in which we get to see it more! in my Azul brainrot I also mention how I like the change in his acts and how he puts some efforts into being better. in my writing I love to explore this aftermath and their inner thoughts on it, especially in this Azul oneshot in which his overblot ends up a little differently!

I have individual thoughts on how each character reacts and improves after their overblots, so I'll go over them really quickly!!

first I just wanted to go over the concept of an overblot on itself. it's mentioned at the beggining that's a rare and dangerous occuring, but at NRC it happens every other month after MC's arrival, so that must be shocking. an overblot also leaves them sore and exhausted, both physically and mentally, as it's the result of the dangerous combination of too much magical usage and too many negative emotions due to years of distress. it's truly interesting how MC and/or Grim seems like a trigger of sorts to these overblots, as I believe there wasn't any before they suddenly appeared, getting involved in the middle of each of them. it's definetly not a coincidence how some of the most powerful and influential students suddenly overblot on the same time period, almost as if there was some higher force making it happen on purpose, for some reason. I hope it gets more explained in the future, perhaps after chapter 7!

as stated, I feel that Riddle, for being the first overblot, has gotten more time to show how much he's changed. from the tyrant from the start of the game to an actual dorm leader worthy of his title! he hasn't dropped his appreciation for rules entirely, but he won't go around cutting other people's heads for minor things. he's still strict with proper conduct and Heartslabyul's students' grades, but in a less overwhelming way, as he's seen how the way he's been taught to do things was wrong. during the second chapter, Riddle is much calmer and more rational, he helps MC solve the mystery even when he didn't have to do so. he was a great help at Leona's fight, and it's due to his quick thinking that no one was hurt at the stampade stunt. even when it's hard and causes him some mental turmoil, Riddle has reflected upon his actions and does his best to change for the better! having Trey, Cater and Che'nya by his side, lending him support, is probably a big motivator, as well as Ace's judgment and sharp words, as he's not afraid to speak his mind and call out people who are in the wrong. Deuce's admiration for him also contributes to it all, as he'd like to set a good example for his underclassmen to follow. all in all, Riddle has improved a lot in his behaviour and I'm very proud of him!

Leona is a complicated case, in all aspects. before his overblot, he had such an intense inferiority complex he didn't put effort in anything, thinking he wouldn't be recognized either way. not only that, he stays stagnant at NRC, most likely because he didn't want to have to go back to his kingdom where he's always second place. it's due to this that he tries to win against Malleus, spelldrive is one of the things he's best at and he used to be recognized for it before Malleus appeared and took his spot. for someone as smart as Leona, I feel that the plan from chapter 2 is kind of... half assed? him and Ruggie appear scheming all smug, but it's a pretty shitty and obvious plan, honestly, and he had potential to do something better. maybe, some part of him couldn't bring himself to care, since he was so used to being second place, it's not like that would change anytime soon. and that's why Lilia's words are so important, to make him realize: he wasn't second place because the world is against him and won't recognize anything he does, but because he can't bring himself to put an actual effort into things and get over his pride and ego to do what's best. I could go on about that but I didn't even get to the point yet, so I digress.

going back to the main topic: after Leona's overblot, I don't think I see him changing that much? while in Riddle's case it's plain to see how he's been trying to be better, Leona seems the same as before. he doesn't go to classes nor starts taking an initiative in things, much less apologize for hurting Ruggie and putting so many people in danger. (not that I expected him to actually say "I'm sorry", but maybe show in his own way that he regrets what he did?) even in chapter 3, he doesn't help because he wanted to, he begrudgingly does as MC suggests only because it benefits him too. I don't believe for a minute that Grim and MC posed any threat to his sleep, as he could easily beat them up and get it over with. no, Leona went along with MC's plan an destroyed the contracts because it was what he wanted all along. in the previous chapter he had made a deal with Azul in order to get Ruggie's potion, so he must have wanted to stop beind indebted with him and/or get back whatever it was that he bargained.

don't get me wrong, I do like Leona a lot! when I first started playing, he was on my top3 characters, and even though he isn't anymore I'm still rather fond of him. it's just... disappointing to see how much potential he has and how he doesn't do anything to reach it. one way for him to change would be to drop the unbothered attitude and actually start making an effort. there's still a long way for him to go, and only he can take the first step. I do like how his problems aren't all solved after a little motivational talk (and being beat up), since his overblot doesn't change his depression, nor his country's political state, nor his family issues, nor his complexes.

Jamil's and Kalim's relationship is a major theme of chapter 4 and very connected to Jamil's overblot in the first place. I like how Jamil becomes more open after it, even if he's blunt and rude, possibly making him seem worse than before. the thing is, before he only hid what he was thinking and kept it all to himself, bottling up his emotions to the point that they end up exploding. afterwards, even if he voices his annoyance and is pretty harsh with his words, not trying to spare Kalim's feelings, it feels better that he's being honest for once. the work his family serves under Kalim's family creates a very complex relationship between those two, as there is a power balance, no matter how much Kalim tries to treat him like an equal. Jamil should always present himself as less than the heir of the Al Asim family, should always follow along his heat of the moment decisions and make sure to keep him safe between the sea of shady students that could take advantage of his naivety and positive thinking. the way Kalim's childhood molded him into such a different person, almost the complete opposite, from Jamil also aggravates their dynamic's problems.

anyways! as I discussed in Azul's post, I like how we can also see a change in how he does things post overblot. while he still might do some shady deals, his focus goes into his business and ways of improving it, showing his change of perspective. he no longer tries to hoard other people's powers, as he finally recognizes his own merits and learns to be proud of them. he's still cunning and witty, not losing the interesting parts of his personality, but he's changed on how he uses those traits. he isn't suddenly one of the "good guys" and he doesn't do things out of the kindness of his heart, as he wants people to believe, but he's improved a lot from how he used to deal with things, even helping MC on chapter 4. (he also had other interests, but he didn't necessarily have to help MC, even if he felt indebted to them for the help during his overblot fight)

I throughly enjoy how the consequences of a change in their careful and fragile balance are explored in chapter 5, with Jamil finally putting himself out there and letting his potential show, not holding back, and Kalim feeling frustrated for the first time for not getting what he wants, and how it makes him understand better where Jamil is coming from and be more considerate to his feelings. all in all, even if Jamil doesn't become a good person in the traditional sense, as he's still sassy and deceitful at times, it serves to help him improve himself in a more internal sense, to try to be more open with Kalim and to break some of the old patterns he's been taught to follow.

Vil is quite interesting, as he's the only character that overblots that I liked a lot straight away. I didn't pass through the phases of "I hate his guts he's so annoying" to "alright he's not that bad" to "wait I think I might like him" like I did with the others. and I'm not saying he didn't do a lot of wrong things, since besides almost poisoning an innocent person, there were also times when he acted out of line and showed his arrogance, such as when he fought with and made Epel cry only to prove a point, without much respect or care for his feelings. still, he also felt more reasonable than the other overblot characters, as he's more down to Earth, shows his hard work and efforts, and is up with social causes like gender equality and not conforming to toxic masculinity.

by the end of chapter 5, he expresses regret (as he "wishes they hadn't seen him in such an ugly state") and keeps his head high as he performs with Neige after losing. he doesn't seem to particularly feel sorry about almost hurting Neige though, and maintains his feelings of animosity. I have yet to see how he behaves in chapter 6 and how he might have changed, perhaps by trying to find compromises when things don't go the way he wants them to and by praising people's efforts rather than only criticizing their errors.

so! I agree anon, TWST does very well show that things don't change overnight and that there must have some effort put into these changes. the characters' problems aren't magically solved by the power of friendship (and violence), but they can get started on working on them. acknowledging your mistakes and trying to improve is rather hard, but a very necessary part of personal growth. with each passing chapter, I hope we get to see more about how the overblots have changed them and how they have improved themselves!

#tea time #don't lose your head #when I stop and look at how much I've thought and analyzed about TWST it becomes a bit obvious how much I love it #all the characters hold a special place in my heart #and I could go on and on for hours about many game aspects from story to characters to playing dynamics #it feels a bit harder to notice how the characters change after their overblot since it's a process that happens gradually and takes time #but I appreciate how subtle these changes are as they feel more realistic that way #anyways I'm gonna take a nap now so I'm not proof reading this. if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

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