#Can you tell writing British accents is not my specialty?

[hasaservantorapkmndonewrong]

Day # 34

Wrong

SWEET M'THER O' ARMOUR! TH'IR CHASIN' ME DOWN! SOMEONE HELP!

Achilles(the Servant): yeah Asclepius and Nightingale found Kam and are hunting him like an animal. I need to go save before they accidentally kill him, so.. wait, does trying to immunize some from a another universe against native diseases count as "wrong"?

Suzuka: It does when one of the doctors doing it might try to HARVEST HIS ORGANS!!

Achilles(the Servant): Oh cool. WAIT WHAT?!

[eleanorbloom]

When You’re Ready Ch. 09

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: Angst? And Ethan kinda psyco 🤣

A/N: It took me ages to finish this chapter because, to me, the plot is kind of boring and it was made just for story progression (and I just couldn’t leave it behind nor reducing it to a paragraph for the next chapter), but I have to admit that with the adjustments that I made yesterday, it’s now pretty decent. Fortunately, next chapter is way more interesting.

A/N2: Special thanks to @aylamwrites​ for helping me with some of my writing/translation issues and for her advices.  Gracias gurrrl 💜💜💜

Hope you enjoy it!

Taglist @utterlyinevitable​  @shanzay44​ @choicesficwriterscreations​ @laiba-the-person​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @lahellacute​ @lucy-268​ @aylamreads​ @binny1985​ @romewritingshop​ @cinnamonspongecake​ 

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

________________

Chapter 9. The Less I Know The Better.

Then I heard they slept together

Oh, the less I know the better.

Eleanor made her entrance into Edenbrook with confidence she never felt before. Not even last year, when she was starting the residency program of her dreams at Edenbrook, she had felt this proud of herself. It was her first day both as a second-year resident and as Junior Fellow Member in the Diagnostics Team, directed by her medical hero, Dr. Ethan Ramsey. And well, yes. The person she had feelings for.

But today was also the first day where she would leave all that in the past, to truly be over him. She would face him, talk to him, and make his presence something so usual in her life that after a few weeks he wouldn’t mean anything but a mentor, a colleague, and hopefully, one day, a friend. But not more than that.

She knew it would be difficult. The night before had been hard enough not falling into his spell again. Her lips were thirsty for his kisses, her skin aching for his touch and her mind only wanted to float into the sky of his eyes once more. But she wasn’t blind anymore. She knew it wouldn’t do her any good.

Bryce had opened her eyes. Even if Ethan had the most selfless intentions pulling away from her to not jeopardize her career, he had hurt her consciously. He had ignored her even when she was drowning. And what Bryce had done just in a few weeks? He treated her like the most precious thing in the world. Like a queen. In the way she always wanted to be treated by someone, but she thought it was just stupid ideas romantic love had put in her head. He had listened to her, respected her space, consoled her when she needed it, and even when she didn’t think she needed it. He had made her his priority. The less she could do at that moment was putting him as her priority over anything she might be feeling for Ethan.

And now, there she was, facing her first obstacle, standing outside the Department of Diagnostics. Big glass walls, and a sliding door before her. She took a deep breath and with a smile on her face entered as the doors slid softly to let her in.

The office was quiet and illuminated by the natural lighting of that summer morning. There was the faintest scent of bergamot and mandarin in the air, probably traces of Ethan’s perfume left early in the morning.

She observed the place taking short steps around. A big desk in front of the entry, a circular table on the right side with a big whiteboard behind…

“I’m here, I’m really here”

“Hey, me too.”

…And a couch between the table and the entry, where it was a man reclined, reading a medical journal.

A tanned man with tiny eyes and a grown beard stood up and approached her. He seemed familiar, but the big smile on her face made her think she might be wrong.  

“Um, Zaid? You’re on the diagnostics team?”

“Ah, I take it you’re one of my twin brother’s residents.”—He answered extending his hand to the confused resident.—“Baz Mirani’s the name, immunology’s the game. Game-slash-specialty.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know Zaid had a twin brother.”

After a few moments talking, her mind raced to the smirk Ethan had given her the night before. That’s why he didn’t want to talk about the team members. It wasn’t about bias, he just wanted to keep it a surprise the fact that Zaid Mirani had a super friendly twin brother that made them look the personification of the yin and yang in terms of niceness and well, in term of twins. While Zaid was King of Sarcasm, Baz had no ability to perceive it. While Zaid was grumpy and serious, Baz was amicable and talkative.

Then it was the time to meet the last member of the team, June Hirata. June was a very intense-looking woman with a British accent and a self-assurance that exuded from her pores.

Eleanor felt a little intimidated by the way the attending was scrutinizing her, but she thought it was normal for a neurologist and psychologist to examine a new colleague not only on a physical level but in terms of corporal language too, just like she was doing it.

After a few minutes of chatting with her new colleagues, Ethan appeared through the sliding doors.

“Introductions done? Great. We’ve got work to do”—He said, while the three took a seat in the table.

She couldn’t help but feel a little twist of nervousness inside her stomach, but she tried hard to suppress any emotions she might feel, and just focused on trying to be just as stoic as her mentor always appears. She put her best professional face and started to observe how the team worked and took notes of all the things they were saying.

June and Baz started asking questions to Ethan, who had all the information about the new patient. Eleanor remained silent, witnessing the exchange, trying to absorb all the information possible. She was a bit intimidated because that level of confidence and questioning was really out of her league, but she tried to convince herself that it was a normal response for a first day.

The team divagated through some symptoms, theories, and diseases until June gave the final idea: Cutaneous Kikuchi disease. With that, Ethan asked her to run a biopsy on the patient's rash to confirm the diagnosis.

Once the team was dismissed, both attendings returned to their other duties, leaving Eleanor and Ethan alone.

“After you’re done with our patient, you can see Ines and Zaid for further assignments.”—He said as he was taking a seat by his desk—"You’ll be balancing your work here with your usual resident duties. Now that you’re a second-year, that will include rotations at the free clinic.”

“Yes Dr. Ramsey”— She replied standing up from the chair—“We will always diagnose patients without seeing them?”

“No, but we’re often asked for help by hospitals all over the country, so it’s a good habit to keep our blind diagnosis skills sharp.”

Eleanor was about to reach the door when she stops in her tracks, hesitating. 

“Is everything alright, Eleanor?”

“Actually, could we talk?”

Ethan gazed at her for a few moments before answering.

“About the job or about us?”

“The job. That’s why we are here.”—Eleanor replied with obviousness, but it sounded harsher than she intended. As if it would never cross her mind talking about them.  

His eyes betrayed him for a split of a second as he addressed the coldness in her response, but then he just got up from his desk and moved to the circular table. Eleanor sat beside him a moment later.

“I’m all yours”

She couldn't help but shook her head to herself, not missing the ulterior motives in Ethan’s words for the second time straight.

“I’m just surprised how well and how quickly you worked that out. How are you sure you made the right diagnosis?”

Ethan took his time to explain to Eleanor how the team proceeded, the normal way they work, and gave her some tips to be more involved next time. He assured her that it was normal that the first days she would be feeling lost and ignorant, but once she started to obtain more knowledge from medical journals and research, she would improve her involvement in the team. 

She nodded at every advice, and when he was done, she kept staring at him inquisitively.

“What is it?”

“Your glasses, I’m not used to see you with those on.”

“Oh, yes. I use them when I work on the computer. Now that you’ll come to the office frequently, you’ll see me a lot like this.”

“They make you look smart”—She teased, trying to diffuse the tension she still sensed on Ethan after her cold response.

“You've caught me. The illusion behind my status. Without these, I’m a simpering moron.”

That seemed to relax his shoulders a bit. They both laughed for the first time without the tension of their actual status, where recriminations wouldn’t be involved this time. Her eyes shined, happy for sharing that moment after so much discomfort.

“So, Zaid had a twin brother and you dared to not tell me.”

Ethan chuckled

“I wish I was there when you saw him for the first time. I can only imagine your face.”

“Haha, very funny. You’re such a trickster, Ethan.”

They had lean close to each other without noticing, their knees touching, and his fingers just an inch away from hers.  Her composure stiffed, her will power was once again being challenged.

She couldn’t give in. She had to keep playing the cold Eleanor that didn’t feel a thing about his mentor.

She swallowed hard.

“Well, I should get those test run.”—She informed, taking the notebook in her hand, and then standing up in one swift motion—"Thank you for your advice, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome, Eleanor. Anytime.”—He responded, caught off guard by the abruptness of her reaction. 

Eleanor left the office quickly, sensing how his eyes were following her as she passed through the door. She released the breath that had been holding a few steps away from the office.

She had made it.

The interactions during the day weren’t any different. She ran the tests, informed her discoveries to the team (with the help of her intern, Esme Ortega), and then she made quite an impression with the Governor by diagnosing her son was sick; which granted her an invitation to have dinner with Naveen, Harper, Ethan, the Governor, and her staff that night. She had become the best card Edenbrook had to secure important funds to keep the hospital afloat.

After dropping Harper home after the dinner, Eleanor couldn’t suppress the memories of the last time she was alone with him in that car. The night before he left. The night of their last kiss, of the last time they made love. The last time they consciously and voluntarily stared at each other as lovers.

She was in the exact same place where everything had ended and after two months it still hurt.

Eleanor turned to her left, wondering if Ethan might be thinking the same, but his face was serious, without traces of knitted brows or troubled eyes. The streetlights were framing his features in different shapes as the car moved down the streets. She fixated her eyes in his grown beard, which still felt a bit odd to her, but to some extent, it would be useful as a fresh start. He wasn’t the Ethan she knew and wanted. He was the Ethan that left for two months to start over and be the boss and colleague she needed.

Then she looked away, coming back into her senses. She clenched the silk material of her pine dress in her fists until her knuckles were white

“What. Are. You. Doing?” —She asked herself, pressing her fists into her knees harder at every word she said on her mind. 

The car stopped before the red traffic lights and she felt Ethan was turning to her, staring.

“Don’t look at him. Don’t.”—She ordered in her head, her composure tensing even more.

But after a few moments, she gives up.

Amber connects with the sky and the earth stopped spinning. She was so lost in him that didn’t notice he had brought his right hand to hers, taking it gently.

“We’ll be okay.”

His thumb caressed the knuckle of her middle finger, and that’s what it took to feel a shiver down her spine. He knew what she was thinking.  He was touching her. No. It wasn’t anything. It didn’t mean anything.

She had to look away, but if the first time had been hard, now it would be impossible while he was staring at her. She couldn’t just look away. She wasn’t that brave, at least for now.

From the corner of her eye, she perceived a change in the lights. Her way out.

“It’s… It’s green now”—She said in a tiny voice, his eyes desperate for a moment.

Ethan glanced back to the street, clearing his throat. The air returned to her lungs.

He drove the rest journey in complete silence and he barely looked at her when she got off the car outside her apartment.

“Thanks for the ride Ethan, see you tomorrow”

“Goodnight, Eleanor.”

She had made it again.

--

The next day, Ethan and Naveen were sharing their remarks about the dinner the night before when they spotted Eleanor, Bryce, and Sienna entering the hospital after their lunch break. Ethan tried to avoid looking at her, not wanting to expose his mixed feelings about her in front of Naveen, but the old had mastered at reading him after so many years.

“Rumors says Dr. Bloom has been doing good these past weeks”—Naveen said as he finds Ethan following her, reluctantly.

“Mmmh?”

“In the company of a surgical resident”

 “You mean with that scalpel jockey?”—He inquired, pointing out the resident who was walking beside Eleanor with a brief motion of his head.

“Yes, precisely”

“I doubt it. They are just friends. Besides, I don’t think she’d like someone like him.”

Naveen didn’t miss the bitterness in his last words.

“What do you mean? Just because he is a surgeon?”

“Yes.  He is arrogant and shallow.”

“Shallow? To me is quite interesting. I’ve heard plenty of praises from Harper. Very promising, bold, intelligent, and ahead of most of his fellow second-year residents, even some third-years.”

“Hmmm, well, the point is I don’t think Bloom would have that bad taste dating a jock like him.”

“Well, they have been seen pretty cozy. I, personally, have seen them while having lunch or going t-.”

“I’ve seen them too.”—Ethan interrupted—"You say cozy, I would say he’s a harasser who likes to touch women, that’s why he might have his hands all over Eleanor. I don’t know why she lets him.”

“Am I sensing jealousy in your tone, my friend?”

“Jealousy? For Christ’s sake Naveen. Why would I be jealous of a scalpel jockey? And there’s nothing between Eleanor and me to have the right to feel jealous.”

Naveen chuckled.

“Whatever you say, my friend. But to me, they make a nice couple, she looks very happy around him.”—The Chief commented with a smirk full of malice, waiting for his reaction.

“Of course she’s happy around him, he acts like a goddamn clown all the time.”

Ethan turned around and left with his head steaming with anger.

He didn’t believe Naveen’s words. He didn't want to believe his words. He was convinced that Bryce and Eleanor were just friends, or maybe they were having a fling as all resident do, but nothing more than that.

But he couldn’t ignore such information much longer and against all his self-control and dignity, he started paying attention to her interactions with the surgical resident. However, at first, he didn’t find anything extraordinary. They would have lunch with her roommates as usual, hang out at Donahue’s like always, and chat through the hallways of the hospital as all colleagues do. Maybe Bryce acted flirtily and a bit handsy with her, but it wasn’t different from what he has always been with her.

The idea of them having a fling made him feel a pit in his stomach, but at the same time, it relieved him that it was just that. She was sleeping with Lahela so she could to move on. And he couldn’t blame her. But a relationship? Love? With that jock? That was beyond his comprehension.

While he was observing him, Ethan wondered what Eleanor would see in him. He had listened, without no other option, that many residents, even nurses, found him very attractive— ‘hot” was the most used word in fact—, while other residents, mostly men, would say he was cocky and arrogant, but Ethan was sure that even when he agreed he had a cocky way to conduct himself all over the hospital—all over the world— he wasn’t arrogant without fundaments.

He indeed was an outstanding surgical resident, he had heard many praises from Harper the last few months, so he just knew his worth and how to use it, and Ethan couldn’t condemn him for that. And if he was honest about it, he also had to be honest about the fact that he was an outstanding doctor too. He was always kind and nice to patients, always on time to prep them for surgeries, and always had the time and patience to explain for the umpteenth time how would be the procedure to any patient or family who would ask to him. And that was actually an important trait. That said, Bryce Lahela wasn’t so despicable after all, but he was a scalpel jockey and probably was sleeping with Eleanor, and that was enough to Ethan to despise him.

A few days later, th attending was accompanying a patient before her heart valve replacement when Bryce came into the room to prepare her for the surgery.

“Good morning Mrs. Montero, how are you today?”—He greeted in a joyful voice and then he nodded to the attending—"Dr. Ramsey”

“Dr. Lahela”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared.”

“You have nothing to be scared for.”—He assured—"Dr. Tanaka is the best doctor you could have to repair anything that involves your heart, so everything will be fine.”

“That means he could fix how broke my heart is after my husband passed away?”

Bryce stared at her with a sad smile.

“I’m afraid not. But with the new valve, you’ll get plenty of years to make new memories and adventures, so you’ll have enjoyed your time to the fullest before you left this earth to be with him."

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sure you do. And let me say you that you will have the best resident by his side too, so you'll be in the best hands Edenbrook can provide.—Bryce winked warmly at her.

Ethan suppressed a scoff at his words and stood up from his chair.

“I believe you, my boy.”

And then Bryce grinned. A broad smile with his nose wrinkled paralyzed Ethan in his tracks for a second.

The same grin Eleanor had done that night at Donahue’s and that he had found odd and new in Eleanor, but for some reason, it was familiar.

And it was familiar because he had seen it in Bryce Lahela many times when he prepared patients for surgery. That sincere and knowing smile.

“Dr. Ramsey, thank you so much for your company.”

“You’re welcome, Elena. You’ll be in good hands now. I’ll come to see you when you have your new valve, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Lahela”—He nodded before leaving the room with his head racing incessantly.

He had read a while ago that expressions are contagious between people, even at the moment they are displayed, as a show of empathy and to recognize other people’s feelings. He did know too that couples after some time would imitate their expressions and laughs. But it also could happen with friends, family, and whoever you share a place to live with.

Maybe it was normal and Eleanor not only had expressions from Bryce but also from Sienna, Jackie, and Elijah, as they would see each other  throughout the day and they shared an apartment. 

But there was another option that could explain the fact that Eleanor had acquired a smile from Bryce. But he was so in denial that he didn’t even want to put it into words.

That realization changed everything in Ethan. His focus was now on Eleanor. On study how different she was compared to the months before he left. And in their daily meetings or just in their encounters through hallways of the hospital, he found that she was again the same happy and sweet resident he had met last year, with a calm demeanor, her sunny smile, and firm disposition to help whoever needed it. But he also noticed that this 'start over' between them had been taken seriously by her. She was completely focused on the work and never talked about anything that wasn’t work-related with him, and he never found her looking for his eyes or his touch like she used to, but he could tell she used to grow anxious when she had to be alone with him in the office.

A few days later, Eleanor found Bryce, Rafael, and Ethan on their way to their morning gym session so she joined them in a heartbeat. When she got into the room with her workout clothes on, the three buddies were in the treadmill warming up. She went to the fourth machine and started to run beside Rafael.

“What made you want to workout with us this morning, Ellie?”—He asked

“I always try to find a moment to make any physical activity but I hadn’t had the chance these few last days so I’m taking the chance now. I want to stay healthy,”

“That's a very good reason. The body is a machine. When it goes without use, it rusts.”—Ethan conceded, at the other side of the room, in the first treadmill.

“Don’t think that’s medically accurate, Doc”—Bryce pointed out, running between Ethan and Rafael.

“I know surgeons don’t know how to read a book, but that’s called a ‘metaphor’”—Retorted Ethan. Even if there was a teasing smile on his face, the bitterness of his words was evident to everyone in the room.

“Geez, I’ll tell Jackie to send you an invitation to the hate group for scalpel jockeys, Ramsey. You would love it”—He said, not missing a bit, his confidence not even remotely shaken.

Ethan observed Eleanor, whose smile had fainted with disappointment. After a few seconds, as she observed Bryce was smiling as usual, she quickly shook it off and ignored the attending for the rest of the routine.

Ethan knew there was something there and just the fact that he might confirm the rumors made him angry. At himself and at Naveen. Why he had to tell him? It would have been so much better not to know what Eleanor was doing with her life. It was not his business and he had no right to snoop into her life like he had been doing these few weeks.

---

The unusual bitter comment the attending had said to Bryce, made Eleanor sense that maybe he was suspecting about her relationship with the surgical resident. The multiples times she caught him observing her in her lunchtime, at Donahue’s, and anywhere he would spot her with Bryce were making sense now.

Maybe there were rumors. Maybe Naveen had told him, he surely knew every gossip in the hospital—not just because he was the Chief, but because he liked hospital gossip—, and of course he would deliver this information to Ethan to wake him up. The old man had always been pretty honest about his support toward Ethan and her.  

Or maybe he just knew. He just figured it out because of her coldness towards him and because even if she and Bryce tried to keep it lowkey, there was always the chance that he could have caught them the times theye couldn’t help but holding hands or kissing when they were close.

Either way, she didn’t care.

At least not as much as she cared the day before he was back, but now she felt relieved that Ethan might have some clues of her situation. She still didn’t want to confirm it, she wanted to know if he was bold enough, if it affected him hard enough to approach her and ask her about her relationship status.

But she knew him. Ethan was never a man of facing emotions or tough conversations. He was a master at avoiding feelings and people and maybe he would wait for something or someone who would confirm the rumors. The problem was if he was emotionally prepared for that moment.

 ______

[billyspotato]

Heyyy could you write a four bit where four helps recruit an eight to the crew (the reader) and doesn’t get to meet her until one brings her in, and he gets a crush on her and she gets a crush on him and she finds out she’s part of the reason why he’s been so anxious for missions, because he doesn’t want to screw It up for her

Crush - Four/Billy

Words: 2.578 words

Type: Fluff

Summary: (What’s written on the request)

Warning: English is not my first language. Sorry if I misspelled something. Mentions of blood and shooting people.

A/N: Gif’s not mine :)

You get out of One’s car and shut the door.

You look around you, the big ass plane was impossible to miss but you couldn’t help but chuckle as you see the trailers in the distance with such friendly sentences graffitied on the walls: ‘stay the fuck away’ is just an example.

One starts walking to the plane and you follow him. He gets in and you take a look inside to see nothing but drawers against one of the metallic walls.

He opens one and looks over at you.

“Put in here anything that you brought” He tells you and you nod.

You open your backpack and take everything out.

One had told you yesterday to bring anything that you’d like, with you. You brought family pictures and some with your friends, your passports and random objects that would remind you of home.

You close the drawer once done and One locks it in, giving you the key.

“Let’s go, you need to meet the team” He says, and you turn around, following him.

You get in in some sort of base and look shocked at all the technology around you after you walked through so many empty all concrete rooms.

Your eyes quickly go to the table, where the other 6 members of the team stood.

“Everyone” One starts, getting everyone’s attention to you both, “This is the new member of our team, Eight”

You smile slightly as your eyes look over at everyone and the brunette opens her mouth to talk.

“Nice to meet you” She says while extending her hand over the table and you take it, shaking it, “I’m Five”

“I’m Two” The man with brown hair says.

“I’m Four” A voice with a British accent says, and you look to the other end of the table to find a handsome blond.

“I’m Seven” Another voice sounds, and you take your eyes out of Four to look at Seven.

“And I’m Three” The blonde woman says, and you nod at her, “Everyone has a specialty in this team, what’s yours?”

You open your mouth to speak but One interrupts you.

“She’s good at many things” He says, and you almost roll your eyes, “She’s good with fighting and shooting, but her specialty will be driving… For now.” He says looking down at you, knowing you aren’t that pleased with that choice.

One explained to you that you will start in this team as just the driver because the team will need one in this mission. To be more specific, someone who drives a bike, being one of the distractions.

The idea of only driving the bike in this mission sounds nothing but boring to you, since everyone else will do way more important and interesting stuff.

You’re just an adrenaline freak when it comes to these things and you can’t help thinking like this.

Your eyes go back to Four after some time of listening to One talk and you find him already looking at you.

One catches you both and clears his throat.

“Four, here, helped with recruiting you” One tells you and you look over at him, “He said you were the one who fitted better in our plan, compared to anyone else on my list… Let’s hope he’s right” He adds, whispering the last words.

Everyone stays silent for a bit and Five decides to talk.

“Can I show her where she’s going to live now?” Five asks One, saving everyone from the awkward silence.

“Yeah, of course” One says, and she smiles. “Everyone can go back to their trailers, we’ll talk about the plan in a few hours”

Five walks around the table and gives you a smile once you start walking to her. You two walk out of the base and she starts explaining who lives in each trailer.

“Two lives there, but he spends most of his time on Three’s trailer, which is that one” She says pointing at the one farther back. “That one is mine… And that one is Seven’s” She adds before you two start walking a bit more since the trailers are so distanced from each other. “That is Four’s and that will be yours” She says pointing at the two trailers.

As you two walk side by side to your new home, you exchange some words, trying to get to know each other (with the less information possible).

You get in and the trailer is bigger than you expected, since it looks so small from the outside.

It’s no apartment, and there is lack of space, but the fact that you have a space for a good-sized bed, a bathroom and a kitchen, you’re good.

“I’ll let you have some time alone to get acquainted with the place” Five says and you nod, thanking her for the tour. “There’s a dog here, by the way. His name is Wally, he usually sleeps on One’s or Four’s trailer; so, don’t get alarmed if he appears”

“Alright” You say while laughing.

Five walks out and you start getting the clothes that you brought with you on the backpack inside the drawers under the bed.

There’s a knock and you look up at the door to see Four’s head pop up.

“Hey” You say with a smile and he smiles back.

“Hey, do you like your trailer?” He asks and you chuckle.

“Yeah, actually, it’s cozy” You say while looking around making him laugh.

“I can show you a store close by, everyone usually gets stuff to decorate their trailers in there”

“I would love that” You say, and he smiles.

“Great, whenever you’re free” He says, and you get up from the ground.

“I’m free right now”

(…)

A week has passed and today is the day of your first mission, but what confused you was that Four looked more nervous than you did.

“You know what you have to do. In case anything goes wrong, you say it right away” One starts, “There will be no changes on the plan, unless they are actually needed… But they still need to go through me first, got it?” he asks.

“Yes” Everyone answers at the same time.

“Then let’s get this done with” One says turning around and walking to the car.

You grab your black matte helmet from the table before zipping up the full body leather gear that hugged your body, as it should.

“You okay?” You ask Four, and he cleans his sweaty hands to his shorts.

“What?” He asks looking at you, “Yeah, I’m fine” He assures you.

You nod trying to ignore how weird he’s acting and follow everyone out.

It’s no secret to anyone (but you and Four) that the two of you have a crush on each other. This last week, you’ve been hanging out the whole time and eyeing each other when slightly separated.

And anxiety for a mission is no unusual thing on the team, nobody wants to actually die during a mission, and the possibilities are high. But when you have somebody that you care for by your side with the same risks you, or worse, the anxiety intensifies.

That is the exact thing that is happening to you and Four, but you hide it better than him (obviously).

You walk to the bike and Four follows you since you need to drop him off in this specific building.

You put the helmet on your head, pushing it down and you turn on the bike, catching some attention from random people walking around, with its roar.

As you drive off, Four’s arms go around your body to keep himself balanced and feel more secure.

Just this position by itself was making you two tense up a bit. You with how your crush is holding your torso slightly tight and for Four with not knowing how tight he can hold you.

Once you get to do the destination, Four gets out of the bike and you pull the helmet off, making him look at you.

“Be careful out there” Four tells you.

“You too” you say back making him smile. “You’re the one that is jumping from building to building after all”

“Yeah, well. You’re going to be the one driving through traffic and make the bad guys follow you, so… I think we both might be in the same scale of danger”

You smile at him while shaking your head and you put your helmet back on. Four pulls himself up by the emergency ladder on the side of the building and climbs all the way to the top.

You drive off without taking a second look and you go to the street that you need to wait.

(…)

After almost an hour of waiting, the team’s car passes by you, overpassing every speed limit in the world and 4 more black SUVs drive behind him.

You turn on the bike and One’s voice starts shouting on your ear (on the earpiece) for your help.

“I’m right behind you” you say calmly.

You pull the pistol with a silencer from the inside of your right boot and quickly shot the last two SUV’s tires. Screams and shouts of angry men inside the car (now forced to stay in their place) are heard was you speed off from beside them, getting the attention of the other cars.

As you took a sharp turn to another street, one of the two cars left turn to follow you, making a smirk appear on your face.

Their back up starts to appear as well, and you continue to stay focused on the road and on the people on the sides of it.

The sound of shooting is heard from behind you and they’re obviously shooting at you.

“Is everything alright over there, Eight?” Seven asks you and you sigh.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just having a hard time trying not to get lost and not to die at the same time” you say.

“How many cars are following you?” One asks.

“Was I supposed to be counting?” You almost freak out.

“No, you’re getting close to Four, now. He will help you with some of them, but not all”

“Okay, they’re more than five behind me, for sure” You say after looking at the review mirror a few times quickly.

“I see you” Four British accent relaxes you for a second and you continue to speed your way through these tight streets. “She has 7 cars behind her”

“Alright, let’s get them off her ass, we just got rid of this one” Two, now, says.

As planned, above you, Four ran through the ceiling of all the buildings trying to keep up with you.

As you go under the bridge, as planned, Four throws two grenades right after you pass him, blowing up 2 of the cars, but locking the passage for the other 4.

“She only has one, now” Four says and you sigh of relief.

“I can take care of this one” you say as you sped up once again.

Now, this part of plan is in your hands. Anything can happen now, you can turn in a random street and it will be a dead end, or it could have other cars waiting for you at the end of it, or just nothing.

As you almost cringed at the sharp turns you took to try and get this car to lose you, the driver just was great with reflexes.

You grab the other pistol on your waist as an idea came to mind and you made sure that the street was clear for many meters before you looked over your shoulder and shot the driver right in the forehead.

The car loses control and for your luck, he was the only one in it (since the others could just run out and shoot you). The car hits the wall as you took a turn and you announce that you have ‘lost’ the last car.

(…)

You walk in Four’s trailer after a shower in yours and he was just looking through movies.

“Hey” you say, and he looks up.

“Hey” he says with a smile before looking back at his DVDs.

There was a comfortable silence as you sat down on his bed and looked over at what he was looking at, until you decided to break it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” he says while grabbing another pile of DVDs.

“Why were so nervous for today’s mission?” You ask him and he stops his hands to look up at you.

“I- I don’t know. I’m always nervous”

“From what everyone said, not as nervous as you were today” you add, and he leans back in his chair.

“You got me there” he says while pointing at you, making you smile again.

“So, what was it?”

“I think it was because you were there” he says catching you by surprise, “I didn’t want the mission to fail”

You thought for a second after his words and you looked up confused.

“You were scared that I would ruin the mission?” You ask and his eyes widen before starting to shake his head.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I meant” he says making you relax a bit. “I didn’t want to screw up the mission, for you”

“How so?”

“I didn’t want to make myself look like the one in the team that always gets everything wrong” he says, pausing for a second. You two stood silent, not really knowing what to say.

“So, you were trying to impressionate me? You say with a joking tone.

“Yeah, basically” he says, turning his chair completely to you, making your eyes almost pop out of your skull. “What?”

“I was only joking when I said that. I wasn’t expecting you to actually answer that you were”

“Yeah, well, I am serious. I- I have a crush on you since you’ve became a member of the team and it always makes me feel kinda nervous when I’m around you”

You stayed in silence, shocked. You’re freaking out in the inside from happiness, but Four, on the other hand, almost started to freak out himself once you gave him nothing but a straight face.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asks before bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing it in frustration.

“No, you didn’t” you say grabbing his wrists. “God, you did everything but fuck up”

Four was the one confused now, he was getting ready for the heartbreak and to bring his walls back up. He was just ready for everything going wrong, but the opposite is happening now.

“I like you too” you say, and he puts his hands back down on his lap.

“What?” He asks thinking that his ears were playing jokes on him.

“I also had a crush on you since I came in” you admit.

Before Four could open his mouth to say anything else, he brought his hands to your cheeks, pulling you into a slow but filled with passion kiss. As your lips moved in sync and your hands went from his wrists to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, the kiss started to get speed.

Four’s hands fall from your face as the kiss intensifies and grabs your waist, laying you down on his bed and standing up from his chair, holding himself over you.

And let’s just say that you celebrated your success in today’s mission.

- - - - -

🌸✨Sorry, but I’m not writing in this account anymore. Go check out my new one @twinklelilstarkey✨🌸

[tsarinastorm]

Stare Blankly-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 3

*This is the first part of a two part series, So We Beat On 

Chapter 1           Chapter 2

          You finished setting out the wine and snacks, and were pulling up your streaming services on your television. You were having your first real girls’ night since moving to the city, and it was your first time hosting your new friend, Marnie. You met Marnie and Elijah at the same, boring networking event for young women, and bonded over the wine bar. The three of you started chatting about how lame the event was, but at least there was free wine. You became fast friends and grabbed lunch. You were missing your friends from back home so when Marnie mentioned a girls’ night, you thought it was a great idea. Marnie was bringing the nail polish, and face masks, and you supplied the apartment and snacks.

               You had a small one-bedroom apartment in Tudor, and you couldn’t wait to move somewhere else. Your library hardly fit in this apartment and you weren’t ready to give up any part of the collection.  The books, broad in topics, helped you win a few episodes of Jeopardy, enough to pay off your law school debt, and it gave you a chance to focus on writing instead of practicing law. You had written a modern Shakespeare series, some historical fiction and another novel which was released last year, and became a best seller. You freelanced on the side to keep things interesting and to be able to afford living in New York City.

               You were sitting cross-legged on your couch with a glass of wine in your hand and some kind of specialty mask on your face. Marnie was sitting next to you, posed in a similar fashion but with a cucumber mask on. You had some cheesy romantic comedy on but were too busy talking to pay attention. She recounted the breakdown of her marriage and music partnership with Desi, and talked about helping Hannah raise her baby upstate. She said she moved back to the city because upstate just felt suffocating to her. You tell her you understood, you had moved to the city because you wanted more.

“Y/N, you’re a writer, right?”

“Yes I am, are you in need of writing services? Isn’t one of your friend, Hannah, a writer too?”

“Hannah is a writer but she couldn’t help me. I need to work on song lyrics, and I’d like some help. You’re such a great writer maybe you could help me tweak some stuff.”

“Sure, no problem. I know nothing about music so that’s my disclaimer if it’s terrible.”

“I can appreciate any help I could get. It’s so hard to work on music while I have to look for a normal 9 to 5 job too. Working at the coffee shop just isn’t cutting it and it sucks to see Ray every day.” You had heard her talk about her past with Ray, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see him all the time. You remembered that she had an art degree and you had some connections to galleries in the city.

“Wait, don’t you have a degree in art or curatorship? I have a friend who manages artists and is getting ready to open a new gallery featuring his artist’s work. He’s also a professor at Columbia so he always needs some help.”

“That would be great, that’s originally what I wanted to do. Do you think you could get me an interview, or send him my resume?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You really don’t want to speak to Marc again, but if Marnie needed a job, you could suffer through a conversation. You and Marc had a unique relationship, with ups and downs, and it was currently over. You weren’t prepared for what talking to him again may entail.

               The café was cute, artsy, and seemed to have a variety of drinks and foods catered to hipsters. It almost makes you laugh, but you see your crew motioning for you. You go to the table where you see Marnie, Elijah, a girl with short mousey hair, a cute baby, and another girl with dark hair. You sit down and you can feel the two girls you don’t know watching you curiously. Marnie starts the introductions.

“Y/N, these are my friends, Hannah and Shoshanna. And Hannah’s baby, Grover.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys, I’ve heard so much about you both. And this must be Grover, I’ve heard all about him too. He is adorable.” You say as you watch the baby who’s struggling with his sippy cup. You quickly find out that Hannah has recently moved back to the city, lives on Long Island, and works as an editor now. Hannah also adds that she is single and open to relationships, even potentially getting back with an ex because she thinks she needs closure. Yikes you think, getting back with an ex almost never works well. Elijah is busy entertaining baby Grover and chimes into the conversation every now and then. But you and Hannah are able to have a good discussion about writing and the struggles of being a female writer. Shosh talks about her fiancé, how perfect he is, how she wants to go back to Japan, and about how stressful planning a wedding is. You decently like Hannah and Shosh, but you didn’t know how close you’d be with them, you just had different lives. Everyone at your table then turns to look at some blonde with a British accent coming towards the table.

“Who invited her?” Elijah says icily. Shoshanna answers saying, “I mentioned this to her but she was not invited.” The blonde takes a seat at the table and she introduces herself to you.

“I’m Jessa, their other friend, the bad friend, the one who steals boyfriends.” She says and you watch to see if she’s joking but you’re alarmed when you realize that she is not. You introduce yourself to her, and you can feel that the resentment at the table is practically sizzling.

“Jessa, are you and Adam still fucking or whatever your thing was?” Hannah asks with an edgy tone. You immediately pick up that there’s some drama there, specifically between Hannah and Jessa. Your instinct appears correct because everyone else looks tense as they watch the exchange. Jessa just smiles as she answers, “No, we’re just friends now, but I still talk to him. I hope we can all be friends again now that I’m not with him anymore. Are the rest of you satisfied now?”

“That doesn’t make it any better that you stole her boyfriend.” Elijah snaps at her and rolls his eyes. Marnie and Shosh just watch her, and choose not to respond to her. Jessa turns to Hannah, and says, “Can we talk somewhere?”

“There’s not much to talk about but alright.” Hannah quickly packs up Grover’s things and rushes to leave, she’s obviously frazzled and wants to get that conversation over with. Hannah tells you that it was nice meeting you, gives you a quick hug then is gone. Jessa tells you the same thing, but doesn’t hug you, and it feels like brunch is ruined. That Jessa came in like a hurricane, then left. You must look shocked, because Marnie starts laughing nervously before she explains, “Welcome to the disaster that is our friendship. Adam is Hannah’s ex, then Jessa dated him for a while, it’s a testy subject as you can see. No one wanted Jessa here, and apparently even Adam is sick of her.”

Shosh and Elijah both shake their heads in agreement with Marnie. The remaining four of you continue chatting for an hour or so. You decide that you don’t particularly like Jessa simply because of her history, but to you she seemed decent. You’d keep her at a distance though.  Shoshanna was super sweet, a bit chatty, but well-intentioned, you thought you could be friends with her. You thought Hannah was a bit self-absorbed but good company, and you had a lot in common. Marnie promised to fill you in on the friendship drama later.

“I have a job interview with Marc this week, thank you so much for sending him my info.” Marnie says as she hugs you.

“I hope it all works out, it was really no problem.”

“I have a gig this weekend, you should definitely come, I’ll be performing a new song!”

“Alright, send me the details,” you say as you’re trying to decide if you’re excited or not. You’re excited to support your friend, but will her other friends be there? You weren’t sure if you were interested in their group drama, you had enough of your own issues going on.

*************************************************************************

               Adam walks into the bar, and looks around. It’s definitely not a place he’d normally venture into on his own. He was here for Marnie’s singing gig, he never particularly liked Marnie but Ray encouraged him to show up. Ray was Adam’s only friend, if he could even call him a friend. Jessa claims she’s his friend now, but she’s not. He’s the one who broke up with her, and she was desperate to stay in his life so she convinced him to be friends, but he knows she’s hoping to make it more than friends again. He looks up at the upper level of the bar, and he sees one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen.

               She’s standing up there perched against a high table, but she’s clearly enjoying her view over the whole bar. She’s wearing a beige crop top and black skinny jeans, Adam thinks she somehow looks both confident and vulnerable. He makes up his mind that he’s going to talk to her. When he makes to the edge of her table, he asks, “May I join you?”

               “Sure.” She nods and looks at him, and continues, “This is the perfect spot for people watching.”

               “Definitely, do you see that guy down there in the blue shirt, he looks the typical hipster, he probably complains about being ‘friend-zoned.’”

               “That girl there is probably coming off a bad break up and is looking for a rebound. She’s trying to figure out how to look fun but not too desperate.” She laughs, and then her phone buzzes and she says, “I’ve got to go meet my friends but it was nice talking to you, I’m Y/N.”

               She reaches out her hand and he takes it introducing himself, “I’m Adam, I hope I see you around.”

********************************************************************************

You go meet up with Shoshanna, and Hannah. Marnie’s getting ready to go on stage, so the three of you stand off to the side of the platform and wait for her to come out. Shosh and Hannah are talking about how Marnie must be nervous before going on stage, and then you hear Shosh say that she doesn’t even know why Jessa showed up. You think that’s great, let’s bring the drama train back.  Speaking of drama involving someone named Adam makes you think of the Adam you just met. You figure that you’ll see him at some point tonight, this place is only so big. You’re thinking about his perfect imperfect smile when you see him walking your way. He comes up and stands besides Hannah and they talk as you realize that he must the Adam that she and Jessa have the rift over. Hannah then turns to you, and goes to introduce you to Adam, but you stop her saying, “Oh this is the Adam? I just ran into him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Yeah, we talked for a few minutes. How do you two know each other?” Adam asks as he motions his hands towards you and Hannah, you can see the moment it clicks in his head that you must be friends or acquaintances with Hannah. Hannah answers for you telling him “She’s our new friend. We just met her the other day. Did you know that she’s a writer like me?”

“No, we didn’t have time to talk about that,” he says sheepishly. You try to diffuse the situation by asking Adam what he does, he tells you that he’s an actor.  He asks you where you’re from and he responds to your answer by joking that your home might be the only place worse than Indiana. You surprisingly don’t disagree.

“What have you been working on? Every actor I’ve met is like every writer I’ve met: they have projects.” You say coolly, leaning in so he can hear your question over the music. He laughs as he answers your question, “I did a production of Hamlet, and just finished a Death of A Salesman at Minetta Lane. I have some other auditions and projects coming up.”

You recognize him from the production of Hamlet you went to a few months ago, that’s why he looked familiar. Hannah and Shosh has backed away slightly from you, as if to give you privacy to talk. Adam as steps closer to you as you inadvertently take a step towards him too.  You definitely found Adam hot, and you were impressed by his work. You’d seen Hamlet and read the rave reviews for his part in Death of a Salesman. It was the first time in a long time that you felt nervous around someone. It was a good nervous, but still it was making you more self-conscious than you’d like.  You tried to ignore his past with new friends because you could tell that could be a stressful nightmare, but you really wanted to get to know him better. Adam seemed to be smart, non-traditional and interesting. You thought that a compliment was a safe way to start a conversation, or it is with ninety-nine percent of the population.

You take a long sip of your drink and lean in closer to him so he can hear you, “I saw the production of Hamlet, and you were really great. One of the best performances of Hamlet I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. It means a lot, you said you’re a writer so you know about the arts. I’m a fan of your work too, your book was one of the best books I’ve read this decade. ”

“I appreciate art, but my perspective is different from yours because I’m not an actor. Isn’t that the great thing about art though: it means different things to different people, but it’s also universal?”

“I agree, it’s supposed to make people feel something, that’s why I don’t do mainstream stuff. It tends to be shallow.”

“I like modern interpretations of Shakespeare like your Hamlet. It’s timeless and universal.”

“I’ve never understood the allure of Shakespeare, he’s overrated and pretentious.” He states like it’s a known fact. You have to watch his reaction to see if he’s joking with you, but you see he’s being dead serious. And things were going so well until he dropped that bombshell opinion.

“He’s the greatest writer of all time. And what writer isn’t pretentious? Most of them are pretentious by default because through most of history a majority of the population couldn’t read or write so writers always represented the upper classes.”

“Okay I’ll admit that Shakespeare is good, he’s made a lasting impact or whatever. But he took works from others, and anytime you have to have a modern interpretation to understand the point, the writing probably isn’t as good as you thought.”

“He wasn’t pretentious in his time. When he wrote it, the people understood it. English has drastically changed in 500 years. He appeals because he used universal themes and timeless human emotions.” You can feel your anger rising, but you can’t help it. He’s was so stubborn, and resolute in his convictions.

“I still disagree. There are thousands of writers who do the same thing and don’t get the credit. But Shakespeare is untouchable because a lot of elitist academics think he is.”

“And the whole world should listen to you. Am I supposed to believe that all of the scholars who study Shakespeare and literature are wrong and you alone are the only one who is right? Who sounds pretentious now?”

“You’re sounding like an elitist. I’m curious, who’s your favorite author?”

“Okay I’ll play along, Dostoevsky or Fitzgerald.”

“That’s my point exactly.”

“Do you think Dostoevsky is pretentious too? He did not go through exile in Siberia to be insulted by some yuppie actor in modern day New York.”

“Did you seriously call me a yuppie?”

“I did.” You say as you raise your eyebrows and take an exaggerated drink from your cup. It added a dramatic flair to your comment, and you felt like you needed a drink with the way this conversation was going. Apparently your yuppie comment struck a nerve because Adam’s voice deepened when he responded, and his new tone was accusatory.

“I know what your problem is. You’re so used to being the smartest person in the room that you can’t fucking handle it when someone is just as smart as you. Because you feel that way, you assume you’re always right and you refuse to let anything go.” You can’t tell what makes you madder: his tone, or the fact he presumes to know everything about you, when he doesn’t. The nerve of him! You’re going to get him back from that comment, so you try to give him a low blow too.

“And I know what your problem is. You’re so used to playing the ‘starving’ artist, waxing poetically. Oh you poor tormented soul! You use it to excuse yourself from real responsibility and you think it makes you different, but really you’re just like everybody else.” You point your finger to emphasize your last point. You can’t tell if that was the worst conversation you’ve ever had, or one of the best conversations you’ve had in a long time.  You were somehow both infuriated by him and intrigued. You were a lawyer after all, maybe that’s why you weren’t totally put off by the argument, and a part of you actually liked it.

You become suddenly aware of how close you’re standing to him, you can count all of his freckles and can practically feel his breath. Assuming that he would move back, you stood your ground, but he remained still as his honey irises bored into yours. This was too much, you thought to yourself and willed yourself away. You grab your drink off the table and turn to leave. Adam looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he keeps a smug look on his face as you watches you walk away.

You then walk off to go congratulate Marnie on her great performance, even though you have be too distracted to listen to most of it. You presumed Adam would still be around after you’ve congratulated Marnie, and you’d have a chance to finish your chat. But when you got back to where you last saw Adam, he wasn’t there. You scanned the bar for him, and he was nowhere to be seen. You guessed you wouldn’t get to finish that talk.

[ayanna-wild]

Magic and Monsters

Word Count: 1563

Pairings: John Constantine x reader, platonic Sam Winchester x reader, platonic Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: slight angst

A/N: Request from @gingernarwal and @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here , this crossover just fit so well together! Also fun little fact I learned from we-are-all-alittle-strange-here, if you call 404-248-7182, you'll actually get to hear John Constantine's voicemail!

Summary: This was not how you wanted to spend your night, exploring a heavily haunted asylum and running from ghosts. It wasn't all bad though, you did get to make a few new friends, luckily you don't have to worry about these two dying at the hands of some supernatural creature, it seems they can handle themselves.

............................................................

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this!"

Sam and Dean shared a look. They were in an abandoned asylum. One that was heavily haunted, and they were sure no one even came near it anymore. Especially since so many had died there this year alone. However, the voice they just heard seemed to prove otherwise. They hid as the light of a flashlight came into view. Two people walked into view.

"Just a simple banishing love, nothing to worry about." A male voice said with a British accent.

You shot him a dry look.

"The last time you said that I had a demon chasing me for three hours." You deadpanned.

The two of you came to a stop just outside the room Dean and Sam were hiding in. The brothers exchanged looks and heard the man sigh.

"I exorcised that bloody thing didn't I?"

"You were the one who summoned it John! What kind of 'master of the dark arts' forgets the name of the demon their summoning at the last minute!" You said exasperated.

Hearing that the brothers cocked their guns. They only realized their mistake after the guy looked in their direction.

"Did ya hear that?" He asked.

"If I'm lucky it's a ghost that'll knock you out..." You mumbled. 

John narrowed his eyes at you. He understood why you were giving him an attitude but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

"I'm hurt love, that's harsh." He pouted.

He opened the door and the two of you froze when Sam and Dean pointed their guns at you. It was silent for a moment and you managed a weary smile.

"Will you shot him if I ask nice enough?" You joked.

"Oi!" He glared at you.

John looked at you offended and you only gave him a shrug. The Winchesters however, didn't seem quite as amused.

"Who are you?" Dean demanded.

"A curious couple, heard this place was haunted wanted to check it out." John lied.

You could tell by their expressions that they didn't believe a word he just said.

"We heard you talking about demons and ghosts, so who are you really?" Sam glared.

"Bollocks..." John muttered.

You quickly answered, feeling the atmosphere of the room slowly becoming more tense.

"I'm Y/N, this is my husband John Constantine."

Sam frowned, lowering his gun slightly. He knew the name John Constantine. He remembered seeing a card with his name on it amongst Bobby's things once.

"The demonologist?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced at his brother confused.

"You know him?"

"No, Bobby had one of his cards in his journal. I'm Sam this is my brother Dean." Sam said.

Dean gave them an untrusting look but lowered his gun as well. You let your hands drop to your sides and smiled cheekily.

"You have his card?" Sam looked at you apprehensively.

"Yeah?"

"The one that says, Exorcist, demonologist and master of the dark arts?"

John gave you a nasty look and started walking in the opposite direction of you. You laughed and hurried after him, the Winchesters trailing behind you.

"Master of the dark arts?" Dean smirked.

John sighed lighting a cigarette, he could feel himself getting a headache.

"More of a petty dabbler really." He muttered.

"So why are you here?" Sam asked deciding it was best to change the subject.

"Heard about the ghost problem so-" John began.

The four of you all went back into the halls just as all the doors in the Asylum slammed shut locking. You groaned giving Constantine a murderous look.

"I hate you!" You seethed.

He smiled sheepishly at you and you briefly wondered if one of the brothers would let you borrow their gun. You were interrupted from your thoughts by your husband being thrown against a wall.

"John!"

You hurried to help him up and heard the brothers fire off several shots. The four of you hurried through the halls, the Winchesters firing off shots whenever a ghost would appear. Ducking into the practically decaying cafeteria, you and John slammed the doors shut behind you once Sam and Dean had made it inside. John muttered a spell and there was a screech before everything fell silent.

"That should take care of the wankers for a bit, need to get up something a bit more permanent though." John said.

He pulled out a knife, cutting open his palm, much to the Winchester's surprise.

"I've never seen this many ghosts before. And what are you doing?" Dean said.

John was drawing sigils on the walls, some with his blood and some with spray paint. You sat on a table watching him. John didn't respond to focused on writing the sigils.

"What is he doing?" Sam asked sitting down beside you.

You looked at them confused, they hunted the supernatural, but they didn't know what sigils John was making?

"Making wards? You guys don't use magic much do you?" You asked.

"No, we're hunters, our specialty is more supernatural weapons, then magic." Dean shrugged.

You nodded, and briefly wondered how they managed without using some type of magic.

"Cool. So do you guys just stumble upon these things or do you go looking for them?"

You were bored and knew you were going to be stuck in this room for quite a while so you might as well make the best of it.

"We try to find hunts sometimes we just happen across them." Sam shrugged.

"What about you two?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Oh sometimes we look but most of the time we seem to be a magnet for supernatural things." You laughed.

The brothers laughed, admitting it was often the same way for them.

"There, that should keep them out." John stood beside you crossing his arms.

You grabbed his hand yanking his tie off so you could wrap it around his wound. You noticed him eyeing the Winchester brothers suspiciously and couldn't help but smile slightly at his over protectiveness. There was suddenly pounding on the doors. Dean and Sam drew their guns but you and John didn't even blink.

"Don't worry about them, the wards will keep 'em out."

The two hunters relaxed the best they could and you pulled your phone checking the time. It was a little past 10pm.

"How long do you think they'll keep at it?" Sam asked.

"Just till the sun comes up, the ghosts here only show up once a year, they'll all sod off by morning." Constantine shrugged.

"So we just sit here until morning? Wish I brought things to do." Dean muttered

You rested your chin on your hand, looking annoyed. This was the exact opposite of how you wanted to spend your evening.

"Just how I wanted to spend my anniversary, locked in an old cafeteria in a condemned, and haunted Asylum. How romantic." You mumbled voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"It's your anniversary?" Sam asked.

"Yep, and I just love this idiot." You said elbowing Constantine in the side.

"Oi, it's better than our last one." He huffed.

You stared at him incredulously. He clearly didn't remember how the last one went.

"No it's not! You used me as bait for a freaking wendigo!" You snapped.

The brothers wisely decided not to interrupt this argument. They weren't even sure how they would respond to be honest.

"You agreed to it!" He argued.

"Because I lost the last bet we made!"

"You were fine! I didn't let the bloke anywhere near you." 

You stood running a hand through your hair.

"Just one day, one day as a normal couple, is that too much to ask."  He chuckled and pulled out a cigarette.

"You'd get to bored if we were a normal couple." He winked.

You opened your mouth to deny that but quickly closed it, there was no point in trying to lie about that you knew it was true. For hours the four of you talked and got to know each other better. You were unable to really do much else, it wasn't as though you could leave the room with ghosts waiting to kill you outside the doors to kill all of you.

"I'll take my gun over your magic tricks any day." Dean scoffed.

He and John had gotten into a heated argument about which was more reliable, Dean's weapons or John's magic. You had basically tuned them out by this point. You sat up when you noticed sunlight start peeking through the cracks of the boarded-up windows.

"Guys."

They didn't seem to hear, far to engrossed in their conversation of who was better. You rolled your eyes.

"Boys!" You yelled.

They turned to look at you and you pointed to the windows.

"If you're done measuring dicks, the sun is up."

They stared at you blankly and you sighed.

"We can leave."

Realization dawned on them, and they practically sprinted for the doors. You laughed shaking your head and followed after them. As you walked out saw John talking with the brothers. He handed them a card, and they waved to you as they got into their car.

"Think we'll see them again?"

You asked as you walked up beside John, and he put his arm around your shoulders. You watched their car fade out of sight.

"Sooner than they know."

An old yellow cab pulled into the parking lot, you smiled, waving to Chas.

"Come on love, I'll try to make up for last night, we'll call it a redo anniversary." John winked.

................................................................................

Tag List: @we-are-all-alittle-strange-here @gingernarwal @lifeshortbro @im-just-along-for-the-ride @adira-secrets

[faangirl101]

Reunited, volume 2, Tom Holland x reader

REUNITED MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tom holland x reader

marvelousimaginesforyou asked: Hi! Can you Write a Tom Holland Imagine where the Reader and him met when they were twelve and he was fifteen, they haven‘t seen each other since, then they come on set or meets him and the others at a Bar, and it becomes obvious that he trinke they’ve become very hot (Reader 18 Tom 21) and the Reader thinks the same about him and the other actors Tease Tom about it until he asks the reader out?

“No fucking way”, Iza screamed with a awfully high pitched voice, making it ring in my ears. I shrugged, acting unimpressed even if my heart was pounding painfully hard in my chest. “Tom holland”, Iza muttered while tapping at her computer. Her eyes followed the screen with a new founded intress. “Bitch”, Iza gasped, turning to me with a dropped jaw “This dude is famous, look here”. I couldn't hide my curiosity as i move across the room, tip toeing carefully not to slip on the shiny apartment floor. I looked passed her shoulder only to see the familiar handsome face. A famous actor, Tom holland was a famous actor. Dizzy, i sat down while rubbing my temples. Holy. Fucking. Shit.“That means he has money!”, Iza squealed and i rolled my eyes. I ignore my dirty socks as i throw them up on the wall over the couch. I hit my heels lightly against the material before i sigh “you know it's not the money. He was super sweet and it made me nostalgic”.  She just snorted before throwing herself down next to me “you're in love with him aren't you”. I took a shuddered breath, a warmth spreading my chest. Was i in love with Tom holland? after just meeting him once? Love at first sight was a myth, i knew that much, but…. we have known each other for longer than that, it wasn't exactly the first time you two met. “I dont know”, i muttered while covering my face with my hands. It seemed like if i was keeping things from Iza but that wasn't really the case… I just simply.. didn't know. A vibration from my back pocket made me jump, my fiddling hands trying to grab onto the screen with clammy fingers. “Its Tom”, my voice break of nervosity as i see the little notification pop up. It was a unknown number but from the content i quickly assumed it was Tom. 

Hey y/n! It was nice meeting you the other day, it's been to long. This may be a little to fast forward but maybe we could go for a coffee somebody, for the sake of old friends! 

“He's totally into you”, i didn't even realize Iza was breathing over me until i felt her hot breath rise goosebump on my neck. “what?”, i swallowed hard while trying to control the adrenaline rushing at her comment “why would he”. I didn't even have to look at Iza to know she was rolling her eyes “oh come one, y/n! He's clearly into you, for the sake of old friends my ass”.

And btw, love, It's Tom

I can't help the smile shamelessly growing across my face. I heard a gasp from Iza as i look up to meet her eyes. She Pointed Her index finger right at my face “you're blushing! You're in love with him!”. Embarrassed of being caught i try to hide my burning face by looking down but i seems to only make it worse. “well”, Iza Throws her legs over my lap with ease “you have to answer him”. i gulped. She was right

                                     Hey Tom! I'd love to go out for a coffee someday! I                                         don't do much except being an extra so i'm mostly free!

“Oh no”, Iza looked up at me with a “are you kidding me face”. She took the phone away from me, even if i complained. “I don't do much except…. girl? Why did you tell him that? Now it seems like you don't have a real job”. I furrowed my eyebrows “but…. i don't have a real job”. Once again she gave me the face before scrolling down my phone “but he doesn't need to know that, it just a bit to much information on the first text that's all”. I let out a little “oh no” myself. He would think i'm desperate and weird and….. Pling. New notification

 well, i would gladly like to take up that free time, does thursday sound okay?

“He asked me if i was free thursday”, i mumbled before repeating it louder. Iza clapped my back “way to go girl, me, your fairy godmother, is no longer needed”. I roll my eyes as i slap her playfully “who says you was ever needed”. She pretended to look offended as she turned on the television “okay, but i won't be coming over dusting your cheeks in fairydust when he gonna eat that ass like groceries”. My jaw dropped, a blush settling as I yelped “Iza?!”. She chuckled, satisfied at my reaction.       

                                                 Thursday sounds great! Where should we meet?

I waited agonized for his reply as i kept catching myself biting my fingernails. I read the message over and over again, checking for grammar mistakes. 30 second passed, 40 second passed, 1 minute passed and…. pling

How about this, love, Maybe you can meet me on Set, so can i show you around. There is also a really nice coffee shop near my trailer we can go to.

He wanted me to meet him on set. On freaking set. Of course there was warning bills ringing in the back of my mind. “He's a show off, cocky even. He just wants to prove he has money, knows famous people and has a own trailer”. 

Bloody hell, that came out super cocky.I just want to start spending time with you as fast as i'm off camera.

 I knew he wasn't a show off. After all, he wasn't when you were younger now was he? He seemed to have succeed and made a place for himself… I just hoped he was humble about it.     

                                That's, no joke, the nicest thing  someone has ever told me!

I want to seem chilled, a little laid back, down to earth. I want to sound like this conversation wasn't making my heart beat the way it was. 

Well then, expect me to tell you even more nice things in the future.

Was he flirting…. I sure hope he was. He said future, which means he expect you to keep seeing eachother again. He was practically expecting a second date. Wait, was this a date? No,nononono, This was just two old friends meeting up, right?                                              

                              Well then, you might just be my knight in shining armor…

Flirting isn't exactly your specialty, but in your own opinion? You did pretty good. Proud of yourself you decide to let a confident smirk fall on top of your lips.

Well i'm honored to be a knight for someone like you, princess

The smile grew together with my familiar blush. This was going to be fun.

It was thursday… Yes that's right, thursday as in “the day i meet my childhood friend who got by the way super hot and rich and ripped”. Yep, that thursday. It was  really hot outside, the way new york could get. The second i opened my eyes in my small apartment dorm, a few hair string was glued over my sweaty forehead. The duvet was damp and the sun, that peeked through the curtains was burning over my naked legs. Exhausted i sit up, trying to wake up my hair by ruffling it. It was seven hours until Tom quit filming. It was seven hours until i was going to met him again. Everything had to be perfect. The outfit had to be perfect. The makeup had to be perfect. I blew out a nervous breath as i got up on weak tired legs. I just had to wait 7 hours i guess.I walked up to the familiar building. It was two day since i was here the last time, since i was an extra… but now for completely different reasons. My spaghetti strapped yello dressed flew around in the wind and i was worried i would accidently flash my underwear. I hummed under my breath as i flung up the door. My eyes went back to the screen in my hand, wandering over the message Tom sent.Il meet you at the entry, okay?, loveAt this point i was so nervous i could barely breath. My legs felt like jelly under me as i supported myself against the closet wall. This little friendly meeting could either go really well or to hell and back. I was probably going to say something stupid, act like a complete idiot. It was one minute over 3. There was not as many people here as it was two days ago but i still just wanted to get out of here. I hated how many bodies was moving around me, giving me an extra look. I probably looked lost, standing there leaned next to the double door with nervous flickering eyes. This was a mistake… I should have stayed at home. 

“Y/n”, all my previous thought was gone with the wind when i heard Toms voice. He was sprinting over, in a way reminding me of a child hearing the ice cream truck. He stopped in front of me, wiping his hands on his baby blue jeans. “hey”, i said breathless, taking in his handsome posture. He had a  black t-shirt on that said in white letters “I'm not saying i'm spider-man, but nobody has ever seen me and spider-man in a room together. It hugged his muscles shamelessly just like his pants did. he looked different without his suit, less like an adorable boy and more like a 21-your old man. 

“I like your shirt”, i mumbled carefully, making sure my voice didn't crack. He looked down his boys like he forgot which shirt he was wearing then looked up with a light blush growing. I made Tom holland blush. “I like your dress”, the thick british accent stilled surprised me even if i'm from England myself. Iv been in America for to long. I mimicked his earlier actions, looking down my dress before blushing. “So”, his arms suddenly wraps around my naked shoulders “i just have to have a little chat with the directors then its off to the cafe”. I nodded, trying not to shiver at the contact of his light aired strong arm thrown around me. He lead me from the crowd to another building, as he told me about he got the spider-man part. “It was actually quite odd”, he laughed for himself “they made me do a lot of weird things like pretending to be a dog’”. I chuckled, looking up at his face practically shining in the sun. 

A lock escaped the prison of the thing layer of hair gel to fall down his face. Before i could really think about it I reach up to gently stroke the lock back to his ear. His eyes snap to mine as his pupils dilate. We are suddenly really close to each other, close enough for me to smell his breath dipped in peppermint. His lips looked really inviting,  i couldn't lie. I really wanted to kiss him. Then he broke the spell as his eyes turned away from me. I let out the breath i didn't know i was holding. I almost freaking kissed Tom. I had to get my act together. But his arm is still around me, if not tighter, as we enter a new room. There's couches, two coffee tables and out washed yellow drapes next to the windows. There was two older men slumped down with their phones in the couch. One of them had blonde prince charming hair slicked over his head and a full grown darker beard covering his cheeks. He was dressed in….

”Captain america”, i say out loud, making both men look up at me. Fuck. Chris Evans eyes turn  up at me. “Well i usually go after Chris”, he smiled, showing of a bright pair of teeth “Evans, Chris Evans “. I can't help but to blush out of embarrassment but still can't press away the smile threatening. “Y/l/n, y/n y/l/n”, I said with a dark voice, trying to sound like James bond only to fail miserly. But the guy seemed to still catch the reference as he point over to Tom “i like her”. The other guy had a well trimmed beard, a pair of colored glasses at the end of his nose tip and a great amount of hair for his age. He put out his vein popped hand pampered with two gold rings at me “Robert downey Jr, but you can call me Rob, dear”. I grab his hand, and pray to god its not sweaty. “That's a strong handshake you got there”, he shook it back one more time before dropping it. “Probably not stronger than Iron man”, i meant to whisper it but instead i say it in a perfectly hearebl tone. He don't mind, instead his eyes glimmering in a childish way. “Love”, Tom grab my attention by tapping my shoulder “I'm just going to talk to the directors for a minute, okay?”. I nodded, slightly disappointed when he let go off my shoulder. When Tom is gone, i consider just standing up or actually sitting down. I decide to sit down, hoping it might make the situation less awkward. 

Chris puts down his phone in his lap “how do you know Tom”. I pull down my dress further down my thigh “Childhood friends, but we lost contact until i met him again as an extra on set”. Robert and Cris shares a look before Rob gives me a big honest smile “Oh, you're the infamous childhood friend? he wouldn't stop talking about you yesterday”. Chris nodded along Robs comment before impersonating Toms british accent “you should have seen her guys, she had her hair kinda up like this… and she just grabbed my mask and said my name, and oh she was super beautiful, i asked for her number! Cool right”. I bet my face is flushed red in a swollen blush as my mind repeats the compliment Chris said. Did Tom talk about me? Did Tom call me beautiful? “Oh”, i muttered but a smile still grow over my face “i get why you're an actor, that was a totally perfect impression of Tom”. Chris looks proud, his entire posture giving off a cocky vibe. “Come on”, Rob was leaning further into the conversation with rolling eyes “i can do a better one. Both me and Chris lean back, watching Rob go into character. “Guys”, his english accent is actually not all bad “y/n is…. i can't even describe her, she's bloody brilliant. We hugged, and her hair smelled like strawberry shampoo and she told me i smelled like nanas cookies…. and i love her so much!”. Rob joined Chris laugh but i was to gone to laugh. Did tom actually say that? I thought my blush was bad before but now it was lighting up the entire room. “Chris”, I had to change the subject before i would spill out about my crush on Tom “I'm sorry but Rob’s impression was better than yours”. Chris turned to me, pretending to look offended “What?! Oh, y/n, you were one of my favorites, you know”. I smile at his sarcasm and roll my eyes mostly for show. 

Our conversation is interrupted by Tom entering the room again “Are you ready, love”. I nodded as i gave one last time to both of the men. “oh holland”, Rob opened a coca cola can i didn’t even notice he was holding “we were just telling Y/n about how you fangirled about her yesterday”. Tom look alike he is about to shrink through the floor in that moment. His hand reach up to rub his neck nervously. “Lets go”, i mumbles before getting on my tip toes. All the things Tom said about me rushed through my head. I angle my head slightly to the side as i leave a soft friendly peck at the side of Toms face. It was a bold move, a really bold move actually. But Tom was practicly shining out of proudness as he gave the men in front of us almost a “i told you so” look. His arm was back around my shoulder as he nodded to men before us “Gentlemen, now if you excuse me i have a date to attend”.

[adapted-batteries]

The Intern

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Flyzekiel

Word Count: 2408

Ezekiel happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Flynn gains a new intern.

AU where Flynn is in charge of the Egyptian exhibit as a professor, not student or Librarian.This is set when Flynn’s doing the Egyptian exhibit in the first Librarian movie, but for the sake of not writing underage fic, I’m aging Ezekiel up to being in his 20’s, considering Ezekiel was like 16 or something when he got the letter the first time.

Also posted on my Ao3.

-----

Ezekiel happened to be in New York at the right time. According to the poster he just walked past, there was going to be a big exhibit at the Museum of History in a few days, a replica of one of the great pyramids, complete with loads of artifacts inside. A goldmine, all in one place, ready for Ezekiel to take what he wished so he could replenish the fund he ran for abused kids.

He hadn’t been to that museum before; they never really had any pricy exhibits, the natural history museum always got them, so Ezekiel devised a plan to case the exhibit and figure out what he wanted to swipe. Donning the nerdiest outfit he could bare to wear, Ezekiel turned up while the students and other important looking people were frantically trying to set up and document everything in the huge exhibit.

The disguise worked well...too well. Not even five minutes into taking in the exhibit, a man, probably a professor by the looks of his outfit and the general nerdiness he gave off, called him over. “Hey you, give me a hand with this.” The professor was pushing a crate somewhere, apparently heavy enough that it warranted help and Ezekiel was unluckily the only one in the vicinity.

Ezekiel hesitated just long enough to make the professor annoyed. The professor scowled at him as he wiped away sweat from his face. “You can’t just stand around and expect to get a good grade.”

Finally settling on a persona, Ezekiel scurried over to him. “Sorry, uh, sir,” he muttered, pushing the considerably heavy crate. The professor pushed as well, but Ezekiel could tell he was doing the majority of the work.

The professor directed the crate to a collapsible table currently half used to hold a variety of artifacts. He stretched his back, then reached into the crate while looking at Ezekiel. “Help me empty this so we can get it on display.” Ezekiel nodded, carefully pulling considerably valuable artifacts out of the box, ignoring the way the professor was watching him. Ezekiel jumped a little when the professor asked him a question, definitely only because he was really playing into his persona. “I’ve been terribly busy organizing everyone and everything, remind me what team you’re here with again?”

“I’m, uh, with the artifacts team. My, er, specialty is items made from precious metals and gems,” Ezekiel stammered. He gulped when the professor narrowed his eyes at him.

“Precious metals you say. Tell me what this is made of,” the professor said, handing Ezekiel a small metal bust.

Ezekiel carefully took the head and turned it in his hands a bit. “Bronze, most likely a mild based on the shine, and since that’d be easier to sculpt. The eyes are smokey quartz. The gems in the necklace are lapis lazuli, emerald, polished carnelian, emerald, and obsidian,” Ezekiel explained, pointing at the gems as he named them.

The professor seemed mildly impressed, but also suspicious. “When would it have been made?”

Fortunately Ezekiel had seen a bust very much like it at an auction last month. “My guess would be around 2500 B.C. since I don’t know where exactly it came from.”

The professor seemed more impressed, taking the sculpture back from Ezekiel. “This comes from the collection in the British museum’s Egyptian exhibit, which their archaeologists in the mid 20th century found in the tomb of Userkaf. I’d love to have the pair of busts for this exhibit, but one was stolen years ago, before my time.” He stared at the sculpture fondly a bit more, then sat it on the table. “Keep unpacking. This whole crate needs to be unpacked and displayed today. We have three days, which I said was completely unreasonable, but here we are.”

A couple of students over at another table called for the professor. “Doctor Carsen, we need your help over here.”

“Coming!” His attention was immediately focused on the others. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Ezekiel, then scampered off to assist.

There was quite a lot of stuff to check out, see what was really worth having from this exhibit, and what better way to handle all the merchandise than to play helpful intern. He was going to sneak off and have a look, but true to his word, the professor came back within a minute. Apparently, unpacking to this Dr. Carsen meant taking each item out, and then giving anywhere from a two to five minute lecture about the origin and significance of each piece. The crate should’ve taken ten minutes max to empty, but by the time they got done, over an hour had passed.

Ezekiel didn’t know what was worse, that he lost so much time when he could’ve been casing the rest of the museum, or the fact that he kind of didn’t mind listening to Carsen ramble on about everything. Not that he actively listened; Ezekiel couldn’t tell much of anything about the history of anything he had handled in that time compared to his guesses at the value each item would fetch in various underground art markets.

Instead he spent way more than his fair share of focus noticing every little thing about this professor, the way his words jumbled when he got excited, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the way he’d rock on the balls of his feet when he really got into the history of it. Ezekiel had a few rules when it came to thievery, and “don’t bang the target” was right at the top of the list, but right now it was getting easier to find loopholes to that rule than it was picking something to take.

To clear his head, Ezekiel finally got away from the professor when yet another group called him away for assistance. With his little time left before close, he skirted around the professor, surveying the rest of the displays in their various states of completion. There was a gold mine of things he could go for and get good profit, but that bust he handled earlier kept calling to him. It’d fetch a fair price by itself, or even more to the person who had bought the first head. The museum was way too busy now, but it wouldn’t be that night, so Ezekiel spent a little more time surveying the security measures before prepping for the night.

He expected the people working on the exhibit to continue well after the six pm closing time with the opening date just a couple days away, so he waited till after midnight before he ventured to a back door with an unloading dock. The security system recently went digital, so it wasn’t hard to loop the cameras, disable the motion and heat sensors, and unlock the door without anyone noticing. There were security guards, but only two for the large museum, leaving wings empty for minutes at a time, so Ezekiel had no issue making his way to the under construction exhibit.

Unlike the other wings, the lights were partially on still, creating patches of shadow over bits where assembly was finished and highlighting the folding tables with items strewn about them. No one was in the room at the moment. Ezekiel noted the table he had seen the bust last was unfortunately void of the object, so he quickly snooped through the dark, finished displays in search of his target. The next guard wouldn’t come through for another three minutes.

Just as he found the bust someone walked into the room. “Hey uh, I thought everyone had left.” It was the professor from before, looking a tad more stressed and worse for wear. “Oh, it’s you, from earlier,” he said just as Ezekiel sat the bust down and stepped into the light.

“Ah yeah, it’s me,” Ezekiel said, trying to play it cool.

“You slipped off earlier,” he rubbed his eye like one does when when exhausted, “you know, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I like to keep it that way. Shrouded in mystery,” Ezekiel replied, leaning part of the way back into the shadows for effect.

“Funny, because I checked the rosters for everyone working on this exhibit, and unless you happen to have suddenly picked up that accent, which I highly doubt, you don’t fit any one on them,” Dr. Carsen continued, stepping more into Ezekiel’s space. “Who are you, and why are you sneaking into the museum at midnight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Ezekiel said saucily while tapping Dr. Carsen’s chest, deciding that he should play into the oddly physical vibe that suddenly appeared.

To his surprise, Dr. Carsen didn’t back away. “I would, considering I can tell you moved the bust, which I assume was because you intended to steal it.”

Ezekiel patted his chest again, trying to hide his growing panic about Dr. Carsen reading the situation that easy. “Observant and well-read, I like that in a man.” He noticed Dr. Carsen look down at his hand before Dr. Carsen realized what he did, a good sign for Ezekiel.

“Are you, uh,” Dr. Carsen faltered when Ezekiel did his best to look enticing, biting his bottom lip and looking up at Dr. Carsen through his lashes (it helped that Dr. Carsen was a few inches taller too). “You’re um.”

“I’m what, love?” Ezekiel asked, tilting his head ever so slightly upward. Sure enough, Dr. Carsen reciprocated the movement.

“You’re really distracting,” Dr. Carsen settled, eyes flitting to Ezekiel’s mouth when the thief smirked.

“So I’ve heard. Though I can say,” he paused to place his lips mere inches away from Dr. Carsen’s, “you’re just as distracting as I am, in my opinion.”

Dr. Carsen leaned forward, lips ghosting Ezekiel’s, but then his brain started recovering, which meant he attempted to make space. “Wait you’re-”

Ezekiel was not gonna lose the ground he made; he slipped a hand around the professor’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. He expected Dr. Carsen to fight him a bit more, but near instantly Ezekiel found he was being kissed just as much as he was doing the kissing. In the back of his mind he remembered his rule, though technically his target wasn’t Dr. Carsen himself...so getting him in bed wasn’t breaking the rule, he reasoned.

Footsteps from a security guard echoed on the marble floor. Ezekiel pulled away only so far to speak so he could keep Dr. Carsen’s focus. “Should we take this somewhere else?”

Dr. Carsen nodded, his nose sliding against Ezekiel’s. “My apartment,” Dr. Carsen started, pausing to kiss Ezekiel again because apparently it had been too long already, “not far.”

The security guard walked in, startled at the two men being intimate. “Uh, sorry, just doin’ rounds,” the guard mumbled, then turned right back around and left the room.

Ezekiel kissed Dr. Carsen’s neck while his head was turned towards the guard, getting a gasp from the professor. “Unless you want to give him a show, let’s go,” Ezekiel said.

“Oh, uh, yeah, let’s do that, ‘s good idea,” Dr. Carsen said, attempting to do his best of talking and kissing and walking. They of course stumbled, Ezekiel’s hip hitting rather hard into one of the tables.

“Why don’t we focus on walking, then we can have our fun, hmm?” Ezekiel said, snaking his arm around Dr. Carsen’s waist as he promptly guided him towards the table that had a messenger bag that must’ve been the professor’s. Sure enough, Dr. Carsen reached out to grab it, not bothering to stop, slinging it loosely over his head. Ezekiel used the movement to sneak a kiss to Dr. Carsen’s jaw, then focused on getting them out of the museum before Dr. Carsen remembered just what he was getting distracted from.

Fortunately for Ezekiel, Dr. Carsen was entirely too easy to keep aroused. Kisses here and there, a little wandering with his hand, right tone of voice and word choice (apparently Ezekiel calling him “love” worked really well). It only took them maybe ten minutes of walking to get to the place that made Dr. Carsen halt and declare as his apartment building, and only one more to get up the stairs and into the apartment.

Dr. Carsen barely had time to take off the messenger bag and shuck off his suit jacket before Ezekiel pressed him against the wall. Dr. Carsen seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, based off what he felt pressed against his thigh, but before he knew it, Dr. Carsen switched positions, pinning Ezekiel to the wall. “Mmhmm, like being on top, do you-hah,” Ezekiel purred as Dr. Carsen went for his neck, nipping a sensitive spot.

“That okay?” the professor asked, voice muffled by the fact he spoke into Ezekiel’s neck.

“Oh more than, love. Why don’t we move this to the bed, hmm?” Ezekiel suggested. “Do with me what you’d like.” That got a look from the professor, one of need, and then Dr. Carsen was all too happy to cart him off to the bedroom.

---

Ezekiel was not one to stay in one place too long, and that included people he slept with. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Ezekiel knew he was probably nearing an alarm for the professor to get back to the museum and work relentlessly. Carefully he slipped out of bed, leaving Dr. Carsen’s arms empty. He started collecting his clothes, but found himself watching the professor sleep. His hair was mussed, mouth slightly open but not snoring, face looking relaxed and content compared to the stressed and tired look he had the previous night.

He shook his head, focusing on getting out of the apartment before he gave into the growing urge of climbing back into bed. For the most part he fought it, but he let himself do something he never did for anyone else; he left a note, not in his normal handwriting, saying simply “thanks for the fun, good luck on your exhibit” and signed it with an “E.” Then he was out and into the greying morning, feeling entirely more emotionally attached than he normally did after a one night stand.

This job was bust; he couldn’t bring himself to steal from Dr. Carsen. But there were others, and more to keep a bed with, he tried to convince himself, but he didn’t really believe it.

-----

Post Notes: With school starting and my semester going at 100% since the first day basically, I completely forgot I had this written and that last week was the Flynn x lits week. Oh well, at least I'm only a day late!

Liked this story, or any of my others? Feel free to buy me a coffee.

[theycallmebuddy-blog]

My “Family”

As you have guessed by now, the mercs that found me took me in for much longer than they had thought they would, and eventually I became part of their family. I think before I begin creating actual blogs about regular daily life, I had introduce them first.

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Yankee

Real Name: Nathan [REDACTED]

Codename: Yankee

Age: 25 (born [REDACTED], 1980)

Nationality: American (born in Massachusetts, raised in New York)

Specialty: Run and Gun Renegade 

Desc.: 

A rebel of the highest degree, Yankee is a riot to be around. In fact, he’s the closest thing I have to an older brother. He doesn’t have much respect for those he doesn’t like (Megalo, Megalo!) but is quite loyal otherwise. He’s one cocky son-of-a-bitch, on and off the battlefield. His favourite thing to do on the battlefield is disappear, then reappear behind the enemy and give them a nice dose of “Oh shit” before he blows their head off. His favourite thing off the battlefield is watching baseball and spending time with his dog, General Woofers.

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Megalo

Real Name: [REDACTED]

Codename: Megalo

Age: ...we think he’s in his 30s?

Nationality: ...somewhere in Europe.

Specialty: “All known forms of espionage”

Desc.:

Sly, sassy, and downright classy, Megalo doesn’t take anyone’s shit and is ready to tell you if you’re being an idiot. He’s a man of mystery with a dark secret he’ll go to any lengths to hide. He obscures his face with a plastic white mask that’s molded so well to his face that it moves as if it was his face. His heir of mystery is helped by his absolutely indistinguishable accent and his way of never sharing any information about himself. He’s what we call a spy, though he’ll never “degrade himself with such a label”. His favourite thing on the battlefield is to slip away once he’s been caught. His favourite thing off the battlefield is to find out more about you, for better or worse (his regular favourite things to do are reading, writing, and sneaking off base to do god knows what). It doesn’t matter if you have a secret you’re hiding from the rest of the group. Megalo knows.

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Root

Real Name: Daniel Brown

Codename: Root (I think it’s short for Rootin-Tootin but he’s never confirmed or denied)

Age: 41 (born [REDACTED], 1964)

Nationality: American (Texas, born and raised)

Specialty: Speedy Offense/Defense Construction (and occasional shootin’)

Desc.:

Always bettering himself and his craft, Root is a kind soul with a dedication to protection. He’s the fastest builder the world has possibly ever seen, though you’ll never hear that from him. He’s a humble man with enough childhood stories to last you an entire night curled up in a blanket, just listening. He’s often the voice of reason between any fights, though he’s not afraid to defend his honor as well. His favourite thing on the battlefield is when he gets to protect a teammate with his defensive builds. His favourite thing off the battlefield is learning new things (for the past year or so, it’s been mechanics), cooking, and telling stories of his childhood.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sergeant 

Real Name: [REDACTED]

Codename: Sergeant

Age: 47 (born [REDACTED], 1958)

Nationality: American (Wisconsin, born and raised)

Specialty: Sharpshot + Military Tactician

Desc.:

Blunt and forever to the point, Sergeant is your guy when it comes to any type of warfare. After being drafted [REDACTED] War between [REDACTED] - [REDACTED], Sergeant found purpose in his life in the loving hands of warfare and bloodshed. He spent [REDACTED] more years in his branch before being honorably discharged. Unfortunately, after being discharged, some of his less savory memories from the War began to haunt him, leading him to cope with copious amounts of alcohol. Recently, Lucifer has taken to developing a type of medicine for his condition that can be taken with alcohol (he doesn’t drink anything else, mind you) to administer to him without notice. Sergeant’s favorite thing on the battlefield is taking out the leader of the enemy forces. His favorite thing off the battlefield is watching old war movies, telling stories of his childhood, and secretly watching the 1985 “Adventures of the Gummi Bears” show (acc. to Megalo).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucifer

Real Name: Victor [REDACTED]

Codename: Lucifer

Age: 38 (born [REDACTED, 1967)

Nationality: Danish (Specific Location Unknown)

Specialty: Medical Sciences + Innovation

Desc.:

A scholar of everything life-saving, Lucifer is the true Mengele of the group. His codename came after he accidentally killed a past group member from performing twenty-three experiments with his self-made equipment on them for three days straight. He’s a bit loose in morals when it comes to thinking of others as people and not experiments, but he does care for his cohorts. In fact, he’s promised them that he will never experiment on a live body again, and now instead uses the cadavers of the enemy forces. His favourite thing on the battlefield is getting to heal a teammate that was close to death. His favourite thing off the battlefield is classical Beethoven and working on his “respawninator”...whatever that is.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miss Quill

Real Name: Emma Quill 

Codename: Miss Quill

Age: 24 (born [REDACTED], 1981)

Nationality: British (birthplace unknown, raised in London) 

Specialty: Administrator of the Mercs + Technological Genius

Desc.:

Despite being the youngest of the team, Miss Quill has quite possibly the most important job. She works closely with a person only known as “The Agent”, who secretly oversees the company from the shadows. Miss Quill’s job is to act as ringleader to the rest of the mercenaries, as well as run some of the tech in their base supplied by the company. She’s a mild-mannered, kind, and understanding genius who loves being able to help as much as possible, even if it means giving up something of herself. Her favourite thing on the battlefield is the victory, knowing she’s done a good job administrating her team. Her favourite thing off the battlefield is reading, listening to jazz/swing music, cooking, and teaching me the ways of life.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As for me...well, I’ll try to fill in what I can.

Buddy

Real Name: Amélie Quill (previous name unknown)

Codename/Nickname: Buddy

Age: 14 (born Unknown, 1991) ((found after numerous tests))

Nationality: ...we think I’m Puertorican? Or Mexican?

Specialty: Parkour/Dodge Gunning + Robotic/Technological “Innovator”

Desc.:

After waking up in a desert, I spent 578 days searching for any signs of salvation. I found it in my “family”. I work with my “family” in the merc business, but have since been put on unpaid vacation so I may resume my schooling (against my wishes). I’d do anything to save my family, even if it means risking life and limb. My favourite thing on the battlefield is to watch the dazed look on my enemy’s face when I manage to dodge their bullets and simultaneously win the high ground. My favourite thing off the battlefield is writing, drawing (I’m finally starting to learn digital art), and listening to punk, rock, or and swing music.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[surveys4ever]

7.

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Yup! The proper etiquette, in my opinion, is to call/text them a happy birthday personally and then also do it on Facebook if you want to be extra. But you can’t just post on social media and not say something to them personally. And this is specifically for people you actually like, if they’re just acquaintances, just Facebook is fine.

Have there ever been floods where you live? There was one big one yearssss ago.

Do you listen to K-Pop? I don’t! I’ve actually never even heard a K-pop song before.

When was the last time you saw a rainbow? A few weeks ago! It was raining and I looked out our living room window and there was a big one.

How many students are/were at the high school you attended? Hahaha maybe 100-110 in all 4 grades. My graduating class was like 20 people.

Are you hot, cold or somewhere in the middle right now? I’m perfect rn!

Would you rather be alone or in the company of other people? It depends. Currently I could be down to be with other people.

What’s your favorite television commercial? The Little Caesar’s commercial where he walks in to get a pizza and they tell him the super duper low price and he gasps and says “THERE ARE NO RULES!” while taking his shirt off and then the narrator tells him to put his shirt back on and then he goes, “THERE’S ONE RULE!”

Do you wish on shooting stars? Always!

Have you ever tried writing a song? I tried once when I was younger but my mom made fun of it so I stopped.

What is your favorite type of juice? Apple or Orange!

Whose birthday did you last celebrate? My mom’s was last week but we weren’t really speaking at the time so I just texted her and it wasn’t really a ‘celebration’.

When you were a kid, did you have a treehouse? Nope. We were visiting my grandparents once when I was like 9 and my cousins lived near them and spent a lot of time at their house so he built them a treehouse in the backyard and I wanted to go in it and my dad told me I couldn’t because I was too heavy...and then he, a grown man, proceeded to go up there himself. I asked him to build me one and he said no because I would break it. Fun times.

What was the best school year in your opinion? I loved grade 6-7. It was the first time I had actual friends and felt accepted. It was also my first look into what life was like not at a private christian school. I think those were the most important school years for me 

Do you know (of) anyone who has committed suicide? I don’t, actually. 

When was the last time you flew on a plane? 2012, baybeeee.

Do you eat meat every day? Nope, vegetarian!

Who taught you how to ride a bike? Myself.

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? Eh! She’s got some good songs but I wouldn’t consider myself a fan of hers.

How do you cook your rice? Steam, boil, other? Steam!

Do you like your country’s president or prime minister? He’s absolute lightyears better than what we had but he’s still not my favorite ever.

Do you wear skirts? Yup!

What color is your house? Beige I guess?

How many first cousins do you have? 2 on my mom’s side and then technically 6 on my dad’s side but one of my uncles adopted a sibling group of like..8 kids after I moved away? I’ve never met them so I don’t really consider them my family, so? 

Have you ever seen a pop star in concert? Hilary Duff, haha!

Margarine or butter? Butter!

Do you listen to Christmas music during the holiday season? Yup! I have a playlist of Christmas music that I beat to death and then can’t wait to turn off after the 25th.

Where would you like to vacation to? I’m not sure, honestly!

What time do you set your alarm to? My husband calls to wake me up in the morning, which is usually 9:30ish.

What’s the longest period of time you’ve gone without sleep? Almost 48 hours.

What time does the sun set at the time of year where you live? Currently it doesn’t go down until almost 10:30. We got out of a movie last weekend at 10:15 and it was still perfectly light out.

Have you ever been skiing? Noooo.

Can you imitate any accents really well? British and Southern are my specialties!

Do you save the birthday/Christmas cards you receive? I haven’t gotten a card in a loooong time but I keep everything. I’m a sentimental packrat.

When was the last time you moved house? Lsat year!

What color is your can of deodorant? It’s a stick but it’s blue!

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Not a secret one but plenty of admirers.

What did you last feel nervous about? I’m always nervous lol.

What is the middle name of the last person you texted? Oop.

How far do you live from the ocean? So far.

Are you a fan of Eminem? Ehhhh. Again like with Lana, he’s got some bops but I wouldn’t consider myself a fan of his. They also both seem like assholes irl.

What time do you usually go to bed? Usually around midnight.

[45news]

Editor’s Note: In the current issue of National Review, Mr. Nordlinger has a piece about Thae Yong-ho. The below is a larger treatment.People who manage to leave North Korea are often known as “defectors” -- even when they are ordinary citizens, rather than government officials or military personnel. That’s because, when you are born in North Korea, you are deemed to belong to the state. If you leave, you have defected, and you are a traitor.Thae Yong-ho is a defector in a more widely understood sense. He was North Korea’s deputy ambassador to the United Kingdom when he went over to the South Koreans in 2016. He is one of the highest-ranking North Korean officials ever to defect. He is something rare in the world: a messenger from a closed and isolated society, a “hermit kingdom,” as North Korea is called.• I have met him at the Oslo Freedom Forum, the annual human-rights gathering here in Norway’s capital. Thae speaks good English with a slight British accent. He is elegant, knowledgeable, and self-assured -- a man you can imagine in diplomatic work.• He was born in 1962, and he grew up a true believer. There is little choice in North Korea. You are commanded to worship the Kims as gods. You know hardly anything about the outside world (although this is less true now than it was when Thae was growing up). He read books about Communist liberators who sacrificed their lives for the equality of man. Thae wanted to dedicate his life to that end too.I learn something from him that I have never heard before: North Korea has a version of the Ten Commandments -- with the ruling Kim, whoever he is (there have been three since the founding of the state), in place of God.Thae attended the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies. He joined the WPK, the Workers’ Party of Korea, i.e., the ruling party. He entered the foreign ministry in 1988. And, in 1996, he had his first foreign posting -- to Denmark.• That was a revelation. He expected beggars in the street and the ruthless exploitation of workers. Instead, he found a happy, peaceful, healthy society, with ample social welfare. This pricked at the young diplomat’s brain.He also started to see North Korea, and its ruling Kims, as outsiders saw them. In the mid 1990s, there was a terrible famine in North Korea. Thae understood that this was the result of natural disasters, and that the leader, Kim Jong-il, was doing everything possible to relieve the problem.All North Korean diplomats, wherever they were posted, were instructed to get food aid from their host governments. Thae went to the Danish foreign ministry. They were happy to oblige. But they had questions: Why was Kim Jong-il investing millions in nuclear weapons when people were starving? Why was he spending millions on a mausoleum for Kim Il-sung (his father and predecessor) when people were starving? These were hard questions to answer.Thae came face to face with the hypocrisy of the regime he was serving, and had been taught to revere. North Korean delegates arrived in Denmark to buy cows, for the special use of the Kim family. This would keep the Kims in dairy products and beef. Other delegates arrived to buy beer for the North Korean elites. These things were a far cry from the equality of man.Thae began to experience “doublethink,” in Orwell’s immortal and useful coinage. Part of him held on to the true faith, the North Korean Communist faith; another part of him had plain doubts.• He was later posted to Britain. One of his duties was to speak to Communist and socialist groups -- people who loved North Korea. He duly sang the praises of his country to them. But he knew, already, that it was a false song. He felt sorry for these deluded Brits. He also felt sorry to deceive them, or to keep them in their delusions -- but he had no choice: It was his job.• Then there was the matter of his boys, his two sons. In an atmosphere of freedom -- namely, Britain’s -- they, too, were experiencing doublethink. And they had some hard questions for their father at the dinner table.“Why is there no Internet in North Korea? YouTube helps you with your homework. You can go there and learn how to figure out a math problem. Our government is supposed to be for education. They say that they are doing everything possible for education. So why don’t they allow the Internet?”Thae Yong-ho found he had to tell them the truth: If North Koreans had the Internet, they would learn things about the Kims, which would lead them to challenge the Kims’ rule. This, the Kims could not have.The two boys were teased at school, by their British classmates. You know how schoolkids are. “You’re from North Korea? You ate your dogs, right?” “Hey, you have long hair! That’s not allowed in your country. I’m going to call Chairman Kim, and he will send someone to bring you back!” Etc.• Periodically, the family would indeed go home to North Korea. And naturally, the boys’ friends there were curious -- curious about life in Britain, curious about a world outside North Korea. The Thae boys could not tell them the truth. It would be dangerous to speak of the wonders of freedom -- the Internet, an abundance of food, and all that.They asked their father what they should do. He suggested that they re-read Oliver Twist -- and give their friends some stories out of that book. About the misery and exploitation of Britain.Yes, you can read Dickens in North Korea. A few months ago, I talked with Vladimir Bukovsky, the Russian dissident. He spent twelve years in the Soviet Gulag. He told me that, in prison libraries, you could read Dickens (and Dreiser).• Thae Yong-ho pondered his fate, and his family’s, and North Korea’s. Maybe he could wait the Kim regime out. Maybe it would collapse before too long -- certainly in his lifetime. Then, in 2009, Kim Jong-il announced that his youngest son, Kim Jong-un, would succeed him. This dispirited Thae. The end of the regime was not in sight.• A tidbit: Thae would have an encounter with Kim Jong-un’s older brother, Kim Jong-chul, in London. Kim Jong-chul is a big fan of Eric Clapton, the British rocker. In 2015, Thae accompanied Kim Jong-chul to hear Clapton in the Royal Albert Hall. (I write about this family, among others, in my book Children of Monsters.)• Slowly, inevitably, defection crept into Thae’s mind. He would not consider it while his family was separated. Diplomats could not have all of their children with them abroad -- someone had to be left hostage, back in North Korea. So, Thae and his wife would have one son or the other with them in Britain. But in 2014, Kim Jong-un changed the policy. Now they had both of their sons with them -- which changed the equation.But what about other relatives back home? The Kim regime is a firm believer in guilt by association. If one person steps out of line, his family and even his friends and colleagues pay for it. This keeps North Koreans in line.• There came a time when Thae Yong-ho was recalled from London to Pyongyang. Why was a mystery. Maybe they were going to punish him, for some infraction unknown to him. This happens to North Koreans routinely. They don’t know they have done something wrong until they are being imprisoned, tortured, or killed.In 2013, many of Thae’s diplomatic colleagues around the world were recalled and then -- who knows what happened to them? Apparently, they had some kind of association with Jang Song-thaek, the dictator’s uncle, whom the dictator turned against (and, of course, killed).• Thae thought about his sons. What kind of future would they have in North Korea? Could he really consign them to that kind of life, when they had already enjoyed a free life? And what about their children, and their children? Thae decided he would “cut off slavery at my generation,” as he puts it. This far and no farther. No matter what, his sons and grandchildren and so on would not be slaves. He made a break for it.The North Korean government called him “human scum” and, for good measure, accused him of child rape. (This accusation is a specialty of Communist governments, and of some post-Communist ones too, such as Putin’s.)A delicate, awful question: What happened to Thae Yong-ho’s brothers, sisters, and other relatives in North Korea? Sitting here in Oslo, I don’t ask him. But previous interviewers have. He assumes his relatives are in camps. It weighs very, very heavily on him. Unspeakably so. Knowing this already, I don’t need to ask.• I do ask him about his personal security. Does he have worries? “I have a lot of worries,” he says, “but I am heavily protected when I am in South Korea. The South Korean government knows that I am No. 1 on the assassination list.” And “I know this will go on till the last day of the Kim regime.”• Let me pause, now, to relate something that happened in the days after Thae Yong-ho and I talked. Do you know about the recent fad of “milkshaking”? Protesters throw milkshakes on public figures they dislike. This happened to Thae as he was entering the Grand Hotel here in Oslo. The attacker, or “milkshaker,” was a Norwegian leftist, apparently.In the Free World, hard as it may be to believe, some people despise North Korean defectors as traitors, liars, and defamers. They take essentially the same view as the Kim regime itself.When Thae was “milkshaked,” his guards quickly subdued the attacker, and the man was soon arrested. Online, his comrades celebrated him. One of them said, “He got arrested for ruining a rich defector’s coat and deserves a lot of support and love right now.”It was just a milkshake, true -- nothing serious. But Thae didn’t know that at first. He thought of Kim Jong-nam, the dictator’s half-brother, who was killed when two women smeared him with a foreign substance in the Kuala Lumpur airport.• Back, now, to our conversation, and another question: How do South Koreans, his brother Koreans, treat Thae? It depends, he says. South Korea is polarized on the issue of North Korea. People on the left treat him with scorn. I remark that they might try living in North Korea, if they think it’s so great -- which makes Thae smile.Around the world, people view the Korean War (1950–53) as a war between the North and the South. In South Korea, says Thae, many people view it, instead, as a war between Left and Right. And there is deep sympathy for the Left.Think of it: Left and Right did not fight merely theoretically. They did not fight merely with words. They fought with arms. East Germany and West Germany never fought a war against each other. The Koreas did. And this war reverberates, says Thae, even now.In South Korea, he meets people on the left who struggled for democracy and human rights in their country, when it was under dictatorship. Yet many of these same people are reluctant to talk about democracy and human rights for North Koreans. They want to change the subject.I remark to Thae that it must be bewildering to him to meet apologists for dictatorships -- especially North Korea’s, the worst -- in free countries. Yes.• What does he think about the unusual relationship between the American president, Trump, and the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-un? Thae says that he understands the need to discuss nuclear issues -- but does not understand why Trump depicts Kim as a “nice guy” or even a “normal person.” “Kim Jong-un is a tyrant, a dictator, and a criminal.”• Jeane Kirkpatrick used to describe North Korea as “a psychotic state,” something of which the world had very little experience. Thae Yong-ho often describes life inside North Korea as “unimaginable.” He is trying to get people to imagine it. He wrote a memoir, Cryptography from the Third-Floor Secretariat. He started a blog.• His goal, or dream, is nothing less than the end of the regime. He would like to see the Korean Peninsula reunited on democratic terms. Does he have a strategy? Yes. First and foremost, he wants to encourage North Korean elites to recognize what they surely know or suspect already, in their doublethinking: The Kim regime is corrupt, nasty, and lying.He knows what it’s like to be a North Korean elite. He was one. Eventually, this doublethinking will tip over into a more resolute thinking: Yes, the North Korean regime is wrong. It smashes everything that a human being has a right to have.Thae does not think that this regime will fall tomorrow, oh no. But he thinks it will fall, as the people of North Korea learn more about themselves and others, and, in disgust at having been misled and oppressed, rise up.• Before he and I part, I ask Thae, “Do your former colleagues and other North Korean elites admire you, secretly?” “Yes,” he says. “Do you know this for sure?” I ask. “Of course,” he answers. They know, better than anyone else, the sheer guts of what Thae Yong-ho has done.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2YECFaj

[blogzshah]

Editor’s Note: In the current issue of National Review, Mr. Nordlinger has a piece about Thae Yong-ho. The below is a larger treatment.People who manage to leave North Korea are often known as “defectors” -- even when they are ordinary citizens, rather than government officials or military personnel. That’s because, when you are born in North Korea, you are deemed to belong to the state. If you leave, you have defected, and you are a traitor.Thae Yong-ho is a defector in a more widely understood sense. He was North Korea’s deputy ambassador to the United Kingdom when he went over to the South Koreans in 2016. He is one of the highest-ranking North Korean officials ever to defect. He is something rare in the world: a messenger from a closed and isolated society, a “hermit kingdom,” as North Korea is called.• I have met him at the Oslo Freedom Forum, the annual human-rights gathering here in Norway’s capital. Thae speaks good English with a slight British accent. He is elegant, knowledgeable, and self-assured -- a man you can imagine in diplomatic work.• He was born in 1962, and he grew up a true believer. There is little choice in North Korea. You are commanded to worship the Kims as gods. You know hardly anything about the outside world (although this is less true now than it was when Thae was growing up). He read books about Communist liberators who sacrificed their lives for the equality of man. Thae wanted to dedicate his life to that end too.I learn something from him that I have never heard before: North Korea has a version of the Ten Commandments -- with the ruling Kim, whoever he is (there have been three since the founding of the state), in place of God.Thae attended the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies. He joined the WPK, the Workers’ Party of Korea, i.e., the ruling party. He entered the foreign ministry in 1988. And, in 1996, he had his first foreign posting -- to Denmark.• That was a revelation. He expected beggars in the street and the ruthless exploitation of workers. Instead, he found a happy, peaceful, healthy society, with ample social welfare. This pricked at the young diplomat’s brain.He also started to see North Korea, and its ruling Kims, as outsiders saw them. In the mid 1990s, there was a terrible famine in North Korea. Thae understood that this was the result of natural disasters, and that the leader, Kim Jong-il, was doing everything possible to relieve the problem.All North Korean diplomats, wherever they were posted, were instructed to get food aid from their host governments. Thae went to the Danish foreign ministry. They were happy to oblige. But they had questions: Why was Kim Jong-il investing millions in nuclear weapons when people were starving? Why was he spending millions on a mausoleum for Kim Il-sung (his father and predecessor) when people were starving? These were hard questions to answer.Thae came face to face with the hypocrisy of the regime he was serving, and had been taught to revere. North Korean delegates arrived in Denmark to buy cows, for the special use of the Kim family. This would keep the Kims in dairy products and beef. Other delegates arrived to buy beer for the North Korean elites. These things were a far cry from the equality of man.Thae began to experience “doublethink,” in Orwell’s immortal and useful coinage. Part of him held on to the true faith, the North Korean Communist faith; another part of him had plain doubts.• He was later posted to Britain. One of his duties was to speak to Communist and socialist groups -- people who loved North Korea. He duly sang the praises of his country to them. But he knew, already, that it was a false song. He felt sorry for these deluded Brits. He also felt sorry to deceive them, or to keep them in their delusions -- but he had no choice: It was his job.• Then there was the matter of his boys, his two sons. In an atmosphere of freedom -- namely, Britain’s -- they, too, were experiencing doublethink. And they had some hard questions for their father at the dinner table.“Why is there no Internet in North Korea? YouTube helps you with your homework. You can go there and learn how to figure out a math problem. Our government is supposed to be for education. They say that they are doing everything possible for education. So why don’t they allow the Internet?”Thae Yong-ho found he had to tell them the truth: If North Koreans had the Internet, they would learn things about the Kims, which would lead them to challenge the Kims’ rule. This, the Kims could not have.The two boys were teased at school, by their British classmates. You know how schoolkids are. “You’re from North Korea? You ate your dogs, right?” “Hey, you have long hair! That’s not allowed in your country. I’m going to call Chairman Kim, and he will send someone to bring you back!” Etc.• Periodically, the family would indeed go home to North Korea. And naturally, the boys’ friends there were curious -- curious about life in Britain, curious about a world outside North Korea. The Thae boys could not tell them the truth. It would be dangerous to speak of the wonders of freedom -- the Internet, an abundance of food, and all that.They asked their father what they should do. He suggested that they re-read Oliver Twist -- and give their friends some stories out of that book. About the misery and exploitation of Britain.Yes, you can read Dickens in North Korea. A few months ago, I talked with Vladimir Bukovsky, the Russian dissident. He spent twelve years in the Soviet Gulag. He told me that, in prison libraries, you could read Dickens (and Dreiser).• Thae Yong-ho pondered his fate, and his family’s, and North Korea’s. Maybe he could wait the Kim regime out. Maybe it would collapse before too long -- certainly in his lifetime. Then, in 2009, Kim Jong-il announced that his youngest son, Kim Jong-un, would succeed him. This dispirited Thae. The end of the regime was not in sight.• A tidbit: Thae would have an encounter with Kim Jong-un’s older brother, Kim Jong-chul, in London. Kim Jong-chul is a big fan of Eric Clapton, the British rocker. In 2015, Thae accompanied Kim Jong-chul to hear Clapton in the Royal Albert Hall. (I write about this family, among others, in my book Children of Monsters.)• Slowly, inevitably, defection crept into Thae’s mind. He would not consider it while his family was separated. Diplomats could not have all of their children with them abroad -- someone had to be left hostage, back in North Korea. So, Thae and his wife would have one son or the other with them in Britain. But in 2014, Kim Jong-un changed the policy. Now they had both of their sons with them -- which changed the equation.But what about other relatives back home? The Kim regime is a firm believer in guilt by association. If one person steps out of line, his family and even his friends and colleagues pay for it. This keeps North Koreans in line.• There came a time when Thae Yong-ho was recalled from London to Pyongyang. Why was a mystery. Maybe they were going to punish him, for some infraction unknown to him. This happens to North Koreans routinely. They don’t know they have done something wrong until they are being imprisoned, tortured, or killed.In 2013, many of Thae’s diplomatic colleagues around the world were recalled and then -- who knows what happened to them? Apparently, they had some kind of association with Jang Song-thaek, the dictator’s uncle, whom the dictator turned against (and, of course, killed).• Thae thought about his sons. What kind of future would they have in North Korea? Could he really consign them to that kind of life, when they had already enjoyed a free life? And what about their children, and their children? Thae decided he would “cut off slavery at my generation,” as he puts it. This far and no farther. No matter what, his sons and grandchildren and so on would not be slaves. He made a break for it.The North Korean government called him “human scum” and, for good measure, accused him of child rape. (This accusation is a specialty of Communist governments, and of some post-Communist ones too, such as Putin’s.)A delicate, awful question: What happened to Thae Yong-ho’s brothers, sisters, and other relatives in North Korea? Sitting here in Oslo, I don’t ask him. But previous interviewers have. He assumes his relatives are in camps. It weighs very, very heavily on him. Unspeakably so. Knowing this already, I don’t need to ask.• I do ask him about his personal security. Does he have worries? “I have a lot of worries,” he says, “but I am heavily protected when I am in South Korea. The South Korean government knows that I am No. 1 on the assassination list.” And “I know this will go on till the last day of the Kim regime.”• Let me pause, now, to relate something that happened in the days after Thae Yong-ho and I talked. Do you know about the recent fad of “milkshaking”? Protesters throw milkshakes on public figures they dislike. This happened to Thae as he was entering the Grand Hotel here in Oslo. The attacker, or “milkshaker,” was a Norwegian leftist, apparently.In the Free World, hard as it may be to believe, some people despise North Korean defectors as traitors, liars, and defamers. They take essentially the same view as the Kim regime itself.When Thae was “milkshaked,” his guards quickly subdued the attacker, and the man was soon arrested. Online, his comrades celebrated him. One of them said, “He got arrested for ruining a rich defector’s coat and deserves a lot of support and love right now.”It was just a milkshake, true -- nothing serious. But Thae didn’t know that at first. He thought of Kim Jong-nam, the dictator’s half-brother, who was killed when two women smeared him with a foreign substance in the Kuala Lumpur airport.• Back, now, to our conversation, and another question: How do South Koreans, his brother Koreans, treat Thae? It depends, he says. South Korea is polarized on the issue of North Korea. People on the left treat him with scorn. I remark that they might try living in North Korea, if they think it’s so great -- which makes Thae smile.Around the world, people view the Korean War (1950–53) as a war between the North and the South. In South Korea, says Thae, many people view it, instead, as a war between Left and Right. And there is deep sympathy for the Left.Think of it: Left and Right did not fight merely theoretically. They did not fight merely with words. They fought with arms. East Germany and West Germany never fought a war against each other. The Koreas did. And this war reverberates, says Thae, even now.In South Korea, he meets people on the left who struggled for democracy and human rights in their country, when it was under dictatorship. Yet many of these same people are reluctant to talk about democracy and human rights for North Koreans. They want to change the subject.I remark to Thae that it must be bewildering to him to meet apologists for dictatorships -- especially North Korea’s, the worst -- in free countries. Yes.• What does he think about the unusual relationship between the American president, Trump, and the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-un? Thae says that he understands the need to discuss nuclear issues -- but does not understand why Trump depicts Kim as a “nice guy” or even a “normal person.” “Kim Jong-un is a tyrant, a dictator, and a criminal.”• Jeane Kirkpatrick used to describe North Korea as “a psychotic state,” something of which the world had very little experience. Thae Yong-ho often describes life inside North Korea as “unimaginable.” He is trying to get people to imagine it. He wrote a memoir, Cryptography from the Third-Floor Secretariat. He started a blog.• His goal, or dream, is nothing less than the end of the regime. He would like to see the Korean Peninsula reunited on democratic terms. Does he have a strategy? Yes. First and foremost, he wants to encourage North Korean elites to recognize what they surely know or suspect already, in their doublethinking: The Kim regime is corrupt, nasty, and lying.He knows what it’s like to be a North Korean elite. He was one. Eventually, this doublethinking will tip over into a more resolute thinking: Yes, the North Korean regime is wrong. It smashes everything that a human being has a right to have.Thae does not think that this regime will fall tomorrow, oh no. But he thinks it will fall, as the people of North Korea learn more about themselves and others, and, in disgust at having been misled and oppressed, rise up.• Before he and I part, I ask Thae, “Do your former colleagues and other North Korean elites admire you, secretly?” “Yes,” he says. “Do you know this for sure?” I ask. “Of course,” he answers. They know, better than anyone else, the sheer guts of what Thae Yong-ho has done. from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2YECFaj via IFTTT

http://wwwspreadknowledge.blogspot.com/2019/07/the-incredible-guts-of-thae-yong-ho.html

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Editor’s Note: In the current issue of National Review, Mr. Nordlinger has a piece about Thae Yong-ho. The below is a larger treatment.People who manage to leave North Korea are often known as “defectors” -- even when they are ordinary citizens, rather than government officials or military personnel. That’s because, when you are born in North Korea, you are deemed to belong to the state. If you leave, you have defected, and you are a traitor.Thae Yong-ho is a defector in a more widely understood sense. He was North Korea’s deputy ambassador to the United Kingdom when he went over to the South Koreans in 2016. He is one of the highest-ranking North Korean officials ever to defect. He is something rare in the world: a messenger from a closed and isolated society, a “hermit kingdom,” as North Korea is called.• I have met him at the Oslo Freedom Forum, the annual human-rights gathering here in Norway’s capital. Thae speaks good English with a slight British accent. He is elegant, knowledgeable, and self-assured -- a man you can imagine in diplomatic work.• He was born in 1962, and he grew up a true believer. There is little choice in North Korea. You are commanded to worship the Kims as gods. You know hardly anything about the outside world (although this is less true now than it was when Thae was growing up). He read books about Communist liberators who sacrificed their lives for the equality of man. Thae wanted to dedicate his life to that end too.I learn something from him that I have never heard before: North Korea has a version of the Ten Commandments -- with the ruling Kim, whoever he is (there have been three since the founding of the state), in place of God.Thae attended the Pyongyang University of Foreign Studies. He joined the WPK, the Workers’ Party of Korea, i.e., the ruling party. He entered the foreign ministry in 1988. And, in 1996, he had his first foreign posting -- to Denmark.• That was a revelation. He expected beggars in the street and the ruthless exploitation of workers. Instead, he found a happy, peaceful, healthy society, with ample social welfare. This pricked at the young diplomat’s brain.He also started to see North Korea, and its ruling Kims, as outsiders saw them. In the mid 1990s, there was a terrible famine in North Korea. Thae understood that this was the result of natural disasters, and that the leader, Kim Jong-il, was doing everything possible to relieve the problem.All North Korean diplomats, wherever they were posted, were instructed to get food aid from their host governments. Thae went to the Danish foreign ministry. They were happy to oblige. But they had questions: Why was Kim Jong-il investing millions in nuclear weapons when people were starving? Why was he spending millions on a mausoleum for Kim Il-sung (his father and predecessor) when people were starving? These were hard questions to answer.Thae came face to face with the hypocrisy of the regime he was serving, and had been taught to revere. North Korean delegates arrived in Denmark to buy cows, for the special use of the Kim family. This would keep the Kims in dairy products and beef. Other delegates arrived to buy beer for the North Korean elites. These things were a far cry from the equality of man.Thae began to experience “doublethink,” in Orwell’s immortal and useful coinage. Part of him held on to the true faith, the North Korean Communist faith; another part of him had plain doubts.• He was later posted to Britain. One of his duties was to speak to Communist and socialist groups -- people who loved North Korea. He duly sang the praises of his country to them. But he knew, already, that it was a false song. He felt sorry for these deluded Brits. He also felt sorry to deceive them, or to keep them in their delusions -- but he had no choice: It was his job.• Then there was the matter of his boys, his two sons. In an atmosphere of freedom -- namely, Britain’s -- they, too, were experiencing doublethink. And they had some hard questions for their father at the dinner table.“Why is there no Internet in North Korea? YouTube helps you with your homework. You can go there and learn how to figure out a math problem. Our government is supposed to be for education. They say that they are doing everything possible for education. So why don’t they allow the Internet?”Thae Yong-ho found he had to tell them the truth: If North Koreans had the Internet, they would learn things about the Kims, which would lead them to challenge the Kims’ rule. This, the Kims could not have.The two boys were teased at school, by their British classmates. You know how schoolkids are. “You’re from North Korea? You ate your dogs, right?” “Hey, you have long hair! That’s not allowed in your country. I’m going to call Chairman Kim, and he will send someone to bring you back!” Etc.• Periodically, the family would indeed go home to North Korea. And naturally, the boys’ friends there were curious -- curious about life in Britain, curious about a world outside North Korea. The Thae boys could not tell them the truth. It would be dangerous to speak of the wonders of freedom -- the Internet, an abundance of food, and all that.They asked their father what they should do. He suggested that they re-read Oliver Twist -- and give their friends some stories out of that book. About the misery and exploitation of Britain.Yes, you can read Dickens in North Korea. A few months ago, I talked with Vladimir Bukovsky, the Russian dissident. He spent twelve years in the Soviet Gulag. He told me that, in prison libraries, you could read Dickens (and Dreiser).• Thae Yong-ho pondered his fate, and his family’s, and North Korea’s. Maybe he could wait the Kim regime out. Maybe it would collapse before too long -- certainly in his lifetime. Then, in 2009, Kim Jong-il announced that his youngest son, Kim Jong-un, would succeed him. This dispirited Thae. The end of the regime was not in sight.• A tidbit: Thae would have an encounter with Kim Jong-un’s older brother, Kim Jong-chul, in London. Kim Jong-chul is a big fan of Eric Clapton, the British rocker. In 2015, Thae accompanied Kim Jong-chul to hear Clapton in the Royal Albert Hall. (I write about this family, among others, in my book Children of Monsters.)• Slowly, inevitably, defection crept into Thae’s mind. He would not consider it while his family was separated. Diplomats could not have all of their children with them abroad -- someone had to be left hostage, back in North Korea. So, Thae and his wife would have one son or the other with them in Britain. But in 2014, Kim Jong-un changed the policy. Now they had both of their sons with them -- which changed the equation.But what about other relatives back home? The Kim regime is a firm believer in guilt by association. If one person steps out of line, his family and even his friends and colleagues pay for it. This keeps North Koreans in line.• There came a time when Thae Yong-ho was recalled from London to Pyongyang. Why was a mystery. Maybe they were going to punish him, for some infraction unknown to him. This happens to North Koreans routinely. They don’t know they have done something wrong until they are being imprisoned, tortured, or killed.In 2013, many of Thae’s diplomatic colleagues around the world were recalled and then -- who knows what happened to them? Apparently, they had some kind of association with Jang Song-thaek, the dictator’s uncle, whom the dictator turned against (and, of course, killed).• Thae thought about his sons. What kind of future would they have in North Korea? Could he really consign them to that kind of life, when they had already enjoyed a free life? And what about their children, and their children? Thae decided he would “cut off slavery at my generation,” as he puts it. This far and no farther. No matter what, his sons and grandchildren and so on would not be slaves. He made a break for it.The North Korean government called him “human scum” and, for good measure, accused him of child rape. (This accusation is a specialty of Communist governments, and of some post-Communist ones too, such as Putin’s.)A delicate, awful question: What happened to Thae Yong-ho’s brothers, sisters, and other relatives in North Korea? Sitting here in Oslo, I don’t ask him. But previous interviewers have. He assumes his relatives are in camps. It weighs very, very heavily on him. Unspeakably so. Knowing this already, I don’t need to ask.• I do ask him about his personal security. Does he have worries? “I have a lot of worries,” he says, “but I am heavily protected when I am in South Korea. The South Korean government knows that I am No. 1 on the assassination list.” And “I know this will go on till the last day of the Kim regime.”• Let me pause, now, to relate something that happened in the days after Thae Yong-ho and I talked. Do you know about the recent fad of “milkshaking”? Protesters throw milkshakes on public figures they dislike. This happened to Thae as he was entering the Grand Hotel here in Oslo. The attacker, or “milkshaker,” was a Norwegian leftist, apparently.In the Free World, hard as it may be to believe, some people despise North Korean defectors as traitors, liars, and defamers. They take essentially the same view as the Kim regime itself.When Thae was “milkshaked,” his guards quickly subdued the attacker, and the man was soon arrested. Online, his comrades celebrated him. One of them said, “He got arrested for ruining a rich defector’s coat and deserves a lot of support and love right now.”It was just a milkshake, true -- nothing serious. But Thae didn’t know that at first. He thought of Kim Jong-nam, the dictator’s half-brother, who was killed when two women smeared him with a foreign substance in the Kuala Lumpur airport.• Back, now, to our conversation, and another question: How do South Koreans, his brother Koreans, treat Thae? It depends, he says. South Korea is polarized on the issue of North Korea. People on the left treat him with scorn. I remark that they might try living in North Korea, if they think it’s so great -- which makes Thae smile.Around the world, people view the Korean War (1950–53) as a war between the North and the South. In South Korea, says Thae, many people view it, instead, as a war between Left and Right. And there is deep sympathy for the Left.Think of it: Left and Right did not fight merely theoretically. They did not fight merely with words. They fought with arms. East Germany and West Germany never fought a war against each other. The Koreas did. And this war reverberates, says Thae, even now.In South Korea, he meets people on the left who struggled for democracy and human rights in their country, when it was under dictatorship. Yet many of these same people are reluctant to talk about democracy and human rights for North Koreans. They want to change the subject.I remark to Thae that it must be bewildering to him to meet apologists for dictatorships -- especially North Korea’s, the worst -- in free countries. Yes.• What does he think about the unusual relationship between the American president, Trump, and the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-un? Thae says that he understands the need to discuss nuclear issues -- but does not understand why Trump depicts Kim as a “nice guy” or even a “normal person.” “Kim Jong-un is a tyrant, a dictator, and a criminal.”• Jeane Kirkpatrick used to describe North Korea as “a psychotic state,” something of which the world had very little experience. Thae Yong-ho often describes life inside North Korea as “unimaginable.” He is trying to get people to imagine it. He wrote a memoir, Cryptography from the Third-Floor Secretariat. He started a blog.• His goal, or dream, is nothing less than the end of the regime. He would like to see the Korean Peninsula reunited on democratic terms. Does he have a strategy? Yes. First and foremost, he wants to encourage North Korean elites to recognize what they surely know or suspect already, in their doublethinking: The Kim regime is corrupt, nasty, and lying.He knows what it’s like to be a North Korean elite. He was one. Eventually, this doublethinking will tip over into a more resolute thinking: Yes, the North Korean regime is wrong. It smashes everything that a human being has a right to have.Thae does not think that this regime will fall tomorrow, oh no. But he thinks it will fall, as the people of North Korea learn more about themselves and others, and, in disgust at having been misled and oppressed, rise up.• Before he and I part, I ask Thae, “Do your former colleagues and other North Korean elites admire you, secretly?” “Yes,” he says. “Do you know this for sure?” I ask. “Of course,” he answers. They know, better than anyone else, the sheer guts of what Thae Yong-ho has done.

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