#Jack simon

[fairy-writes]

so…I’ve seen you write something for Hei from Darker than Black, and if it’s not too much trouble I WILL request more of him in the future, there needs to be more DtB content out there.

BUT

I also saw a note about November 11, and I wanted to ask if you might be willing to do something with him with a femme civilian reader? she’s very shy, not very outgoing and not prone to going many places on her own unless she has to go to a store or feels daring enough to go to a café, but wound up affiliated with a contractor and November’s job is initially to just get rid of said contractor, but as he gathers intel he winds up very interested in the reader. at first curiosity, but it blooms into something he just can’t quite put his finger on. meanwhile the reader just sees a very friendly Jack Simon, and falls for him too.

but he has a very icy secret, can he keep it or will he be forced to choose between his profession and what he knows is in his heart?

…also mild Dadvember because he’s very much July’s dad and I will hear nothing to the contrary

KNITTED WITH SECRECY

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Darker than Black

Pairing(s): November 11 x Reader

Word Count: 6k (PLS READ IM BEGGING YOU)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Reader is described as smaller than November 11, Reader is also implied to have longer hair

Notes: THANKS SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST

I LOVE NOVEMBER 11 SO MUCH

(This also takes place outside of Japan, just FYI)

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This whole day was a mistake.

It was supposed to be simple. Go out, get groceries, and then go home. Maybe. Just maybe! You could stop at that cat café you had been dying to try on your way home.

Maybe Al wouldn’t be too upset about smelling other cats. 

Who were you kidding? He was always upset when he smelled another animal on your clothes. It was part of what made having the little bobtail so much fun. 

You stifle a sneeze and rub at your nose as people mill through the grocery store. There had been a sale on shrimp and vegetables, hence why you ventured out of your apartment in the first place. But it seemed that you were out of luck. You had yet to find said shrimp or even the veggies on sale. 

And you were looking forward to eating healthy for once, too!

Oh heavens… You were turning into your mother.

You end up ducking out of the grocery store without having bought anything except for some cat treats and wet food and slowly make your way home to your little dingy one-bedroom apartment. 

Only to run straight into the one person you don’t want to talk to the moment you get into your apartment complex. You hear your name from a shrill voice and cringe internally. 

“Hello, Mrs. Ellis!” You say cheerily and pour all your fake happiness into your words. You wave ‘happily’ to the old woman outside on the bench near your building. She’s knitting something that looks vaguely like a scarf? She had made you something last year for Christmas, and you had just given it to Al as a plaything because it was so itchy. 

Of course, you didn’t tell her. 

“How are you doing, dearie? Are you eating well enough?” She asks, and you nod, pointedly ignoring the fact that you still didn’t have groceries for the week. She didn’t need to know too much. She already knew way more than she let on, and you blamed it on your ability to never shut up when you were nervous.

But she didn’t need to know that either. 

You make aimless small talk for a few minutes until you are positively dying to go upstairs and see your beloved cat. Al’s probably getting close to yowling at the empty apartment by now, and you can’t afford another noise complaint. 

“I really gotta get upstairs, Mrs. Ellis. Al’s waiting for me and all. I need to give him his daily treats, y’know?” You say quickly, and the woman nods happily, curls bouncing, before returning to her knitting. 

Your assumption was correct. You could hear Al screeching his lungs out like a child possessed as you made it to the third floor of your apartment building. However, he quiets down when he inevitably hears your keys jingling in the lock. The second the door is open, you can hear his heavy paws on the floor as he tries to get out and see what you have. So, you stick your foot in the crack to stop him, nudging him back with your toes as you squeeze in through the door. 

The little (big) bobtail cat chirps, meows, and weaves between your legs as if trying to trip you. He can surely smell the treats in your grocery bag and, despite already being rather hefty, is begging for more. 

“I know, I know, I’m coming!” You say to your cat and set the bag on the countertop in the kitchen. Al doesn’t bother trying to jump up; he’s too heavy for that. And while you had tried several times to put him on a diet, it never seemed to stick. 

It was clear that Al had you wrapped tightly around his paw.

But it was a routine you enjoyed, and routines were good, so you really didn’t complain too much.

Your routine was obliterated that next week. 

And it all started with a knock on the front door. 

You look up from your Nintendo Switch from your parents and frown, pausing your game and heading toward the entrance of your humble abode. Al was hot on your heels, his collar jingling as you opened the front door. 

“Mrs. Ellis? How can I help you?” You say hesitantly and yelp as she pushes something into your hands. Your heart sinks as you look at what she has given you. 

It’s another scarf. 

By the looks of it, it’s the one she was knitting last week. It’s horribly long and rather lopsided, with horrible colors of yellow and green that burn your retinas. 

“Just a gift for you, dearie! For always working so hard!” She chirps and abruptly leaves you alone in the doorway. 

You look down at your feline companion, who is on his back, batting at the end of the scarf. He trills and chuffs as he plays with the long knitted garment.

“Well, Al… looks like you have a new toy.” You mutter and shut the door. 

That evening, you get another knock on the door. You look back up from your Nintendo Switch—you hadn’t moved since you sat down—and grimace. Two people at your door in one day? It could only be your landlord. Maybe you had gotten a noise complaint that you didn’t know about? You glance at your snoozing feline wrapped in his newest toy and shrug. 

Hopefully, it wasn’t a burglar or worse. Your landlord. Or even worse than that, Mrs. Ellis with yet another scarf. 

It’s none of the above. 

You open your front door just a crack and come face to face with a chest. You blink and look up. 

Styled blond hair, gray eyes hidden behind sunglasses, dressed in a white suit, purple button-down, and matching tie. He’s handsome, exceptionally so. And looks to be around your age, too. You feel your ears burn and your heart speed up. 

Calm down! He was way out of your league anyway!

Besides… You shift your gaze and realize the man isn’t alone. A woman and a child are with him. The woman has dark skin and beautiful golden eyes. She’s dressed in a fuchsia coat with a fur trim. The boy wears a button-down and bow tie with shorts, suspenders, and loafers. 

What an… odd group of people…

“Uh… Can I help you?” You hesitate before remembering your manners at the last second. The man dips his head as if tipping an imaginary hat, and his lips quirked into a dashing smile. 

“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Jack Simon. Might we come inside?” His accent is incredibly attractive, and you feel your ears burning again. 

But… You don’t know any of these people… So you close the door just a smidge. Jack Simon’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. 

“Why should I? I don’t even know who you are.” You say, and the woman chuckles,

“She’s got you there.” She turns her attention to you and grins, “My name is April. This is July. We’re here on official business from MI6. We’re hoping to speak to you about a neighbor in your complex?” She says kindly, and you mentally take note of their strange names and open the door a crack.

“Which neighbor? There are like fifty in this building alone.” You say skeptically and narrow your eyes when Jack Simon reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a photo. 

Is that…?

“It’s been some time since this picture was taken, but do you know—”

“That’s Mrs. Ellis.” You blurt, effectively cutting him off as you look at a photo of your much older-looking neighbor. The picture looked like it was taken about sixty years ago when she was in her mid-teens. But the slope of her nose was the same, as was the shape of her eyes. 

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Does she have a first name?” At this, you shrugged and bent down to pick up Al, who had woken from his nap and was currently trying to escape. April lets out a quiet gasp of glee and lets go of July’s hand. 

“Oh, look at the cute kitty! Might I ask their name?” She asks and extends her hand to let Al sniff. A deep rumbling purr is heard as she scratches under his chin. You let out a tight laugh. 

He’s getting heavy.

“His name is Al Pawcino. He’s an eight-year-old bobtail and incredibly overweight, but we’re trying to work on that.” You say quickly, and she lets out a loud laugh.

“Al Pawcino! You’re kidding!” Jack tries to step in, but you are emboldened by the interest in your feline friend. 

“Al Pacino was my dad’s favorite actor.” You say, and even July steps forward to pet Al. His eyes creep you out a bit. They’re blank and empty like that of a doll. 

“If we could get back on track, please,” Jack says, exasperated, and you nod. 

“I don’t know her first name. I'm pretty sure she doesn’t know mine, either. She lives… actually, I don’t know where she lives in this complex. She mainly sits downstairs and knits.” You reply and shift Al in your arms. 

You were starting to babble again. 

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Knits?” You frowned and nodded again, setting Al down and retrieving the new scarf on the hook by your door. Al tries to escape, so you nudge him back with your foot and step outside so you can shut the door behind you. 

“Sure, all the time. Here, I’ll show you, they’re kind of bad, though. Al plays with the other one.” You say and hand him the horrendous article of clothing.

The man studies the knitted fabric and then to you.

“Do you know why she gave this to you?” He asks, and you shrug,

“She said she gave me this one because “I’ve been working so hard.”” You reply, and he hums before folding up the ‘scarf’ and tucking it into his trouser pocket. 

It bulges awkwardly, but you don’t have the heart to tell him as you just let out an indignant cry,

“Hey! What are you doing?!” He looks pointedly over his sunglasses (who even wears sunglasses at night?), and your mouth snaps shut.

“We have reason to believe that she is not who she says she is. This scarf is evidence.” He says curtly, and just like that, the odd little trio left you alone outside your apartment.

You watch them leave, and when they descend the stairs, you turn and go to open the front door.

Only to find that it’s locked.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

The next time you see the mysterious Jack Simon is just the following week. He doesn’t have April with him, which is odd. Even with your brief first encounter, you had the feeling they were always around each other.

One hand is occupied with his cell phone, which is pressed to his ear. The other holds July’s hand. The doll-like boy simply stands there on the street corner with Jack and watches the world pass by.

You gulp down the last of your coffee at the café and head out, having already paid for your drink. 

What are you doing?

Surely you aren’t—

“Mr. Simon! July!” You find yourself saying, and they both turn to look at you, almost in unison. You offer a friendly smile that you hope doesn’t look too awkward and come to a stop before them. Jack says a quick goodbye and ends his call, smiling that same dashing smile as before.

Again, you can feel your heart speed up.

He says your name, and you duck your head in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He says, and you fall in stride beside him and his… friend? Son? Acquaintance?

“Likewise, can I ask how your investigation is going?” You ask, and he pulls down his sunglasses to wink, 

“That is confidential information, ma’am.” He quips, and you roll your eyes. 

“I’m part of the investigation, right? Surely I can be told something.” You ask, unsure of where this excitement about the investigation into Mrs. Ellis is coming from. She was a bit obnoxious even though she meant well. But Al didn’t like her, so by proxy, you didn’t either. So, by all means, you shouldn’t have cared about what happened to her. 

But there was something about this mysterious Jack Simon man that wanted you to keep him talking. He had a voice as smooth as silk that made tingles go from the tips of your ears down to your toes. 

Said man sighed, looked both ways, and as the light signifies that you could walk, the three of you started crossing the street. 

“I suppose you can know a little…” He muses and smiles as you give a quiet cheer. “But not here. We need to be away from prying eyes.” He continued quickly, and you blinked several times in confusion. 

Just what was he about to tell you?!

The car you’re in has blackened windows and heated leather seats. The driver is separated by glass and keeps his eyes on the road. Save for the size, this seems more like a limo than anything. 

“Might I offer you a sparkling water?” Jack says and you lurch awkwardly as you get buckled. 

“Uh… No thanks… I’m not the biggest fan of fizz.” You say, and Jack shrugs, taking one for himself before closing the center console that held the drinks. He raps on the glass separating you and the driver, and the car rumbles into motion. 

“Now… What to tell you about the case?” Jack mutters to himself. You glance at him from where you had been looking out the window. He sat across from you, with July at his side. The little boy was watching you, hands folded neatly in his lap. 

He kind of gave you the creeps… He was so… doll-like…

“What do you know about Contractors?” Jack says abruptly, and you startle slightly. Then you frown. 

“What like construction contractors?” You reply, and he shakes his head. 

“I mean the ones that appeared when Hell and Heaven’s Gate appeared ten years ago.” 

A shiver ran down your spine at that. 

You had heard whispers. People talking in hushed voices over coffee about speculations about people with supernatural powers. About Dolls with no emotions who could see you through their medium. 

Wait a minute… 

Your eyes narrow at Jack Simon and his mysterious child acquaintance, July. 

“Are you a Contractor?” You ask hesitantly, and his eyebrows shoot up. 

“What makes you say that?” He asks, but his tone has changed. Something icy cold, like frost glazing over a window and dropping the temperature. You can’t help but shudder. 

“Your vibes. And July, too. I’ve heard about Dolls, and it makes sense that he’d be one of them.” You say, and Jack Simon stares blankly for a moment.

Then he begins to laugh. 

A deep body-shaking laugh that has him covering his mouth. You feel your face heat up.

Eventually, Jack gets his emotions under control and takes a deep breath. 

“You’ve got me. July is a Doll. I’m a Contractor. April is as well.” He says, and you freeze.

“But I thought Contractors worked for the black market? You said you worked for the United Kingdom and MI6!” You blurt, and he nods his head to the side,

“Not all Contractors work for the black market. Many work for corporations like PANDORA or secret services like MI6.” He explains, and you hum. 

“So you’re like a super secret spy?” You say, almost teasing, and he chuckles at that, making your heart stutter for the umpteenth time that day.

You like the sound of his laugh. 

It is then that you remember why you’re in the darkened car in the first place and snap your fingers. 

“Mrs. Ellis! Why are you investigating her, and what does she have to do with Contractors?” You say, and Jack grins,

“Why, she’s a Contractor herself.”

You choke on your saliva and erupt into a coughing fit. 

“She’s a what?!” You gasp as soon as your hacking subsides. Jack shrugs, adjusting his violet tie.

“MI6 has reason to believe she’s a part of an enemy organization. We don’t know her power, only that she’s encoding messages in her knitting.” A jolt runs through you. 

Her knitting?

“But why give it to me?” You ask, almost scared of the answer. Jack glances out the window as buildings pass briefly before looking back to you. 

“To hide her messages? Who knows. But—”

A phone goes off, playing a jaunty little tune, and he whips out his cellular device.

“Talk to me.” He says, and you hear someone female speaking on the other end. Maybe April? She chatters on momentarily, with Jack humming to show he was listening. But it isn’t long before he hangs up and looks at you seriously. All traces of his sense of humor were gone. 

“It seems someone has broken into your apartment.”

Your apartment had been ransacked. 

The dining table was overturned, and the chairs were pushed up against the wall. Your bedroom had been ripped apart, and drawers from your dresser were thrown about. Hell, they had even gutted your mattress!

Al squeezed himself out from under your bedframe the second he heard your voice. He came yowling down the hall and cannonballed into your legs, causing you to stumble back against the ever-so-sturdy Jack Simon. He holds July’s hand as you scoop up Al and make your way into your abode in a daze. 

The remaining scarf is gone. 

As is your Nintendo Switch. 

And your journal. 

And probably something else, but you don’t care to check. How had no one heard the noise? The walls were thin enough that the floorboards creaking could be heard next door. 

April is already there as well. She looks at you sympathetically, pulling you into a one-sided hug.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll find out who did this.” She says, and you snort. 

“It was Mrs. Ellis’s “enemy organization” wasn’t it?” You mumble, and April looks at Jack sharply. 

“Just how much did you tell her?” She inquired, and Jack shrugs, 

“She’s very persuasive.” That is all he says. 

July approaches you as Jack steps out to make a call, and you sink onto your gutted couch with Al still in your arms. Tears start to burn your eyelids, and you bury your face in Al’s fur as July begins to pet his head. 

“What do I do now? I can’t stay here, can I?” You mumble to April, who has taken a seat across from you, dragging one of the chairs over to sit down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Most likely not. That’s what Jack is calling about. We can house you at an MI6 safehouse in the area.” She said, and you nodded with a sniffle. 

At least you have that going for you. Jack comes back into your apartment and surveys the room. 

“The car is still waiting outside. Pack a bag.” He says, and it spurs you into action. 

You hand off Al to July, whose expression doesn’t change but seems happy to hold the overweight cat nonetheless. Then, you head to your destroyed bedroom and track down a duffel bag you had purchased when you swore you were going to start going to the gym. 

Ha, that didn’t last long. 

Clothes are stuffed in the bag, and you also pack some of Al’s toys and treats and pull out an unopened bag of food. It should last you a month or so. After all, you aren’t sure how long you’d be staying at this supposed safehouse. 

Al is corralled into his carrier and then, you are all loaded into the car and off to the next destination. 

Weeks pass. 

The safehouse is secure, and Al acclimates easily enough. He happily thunders through the halls after jingle balls that July tosses for him. However, you don’t acclimate as quickly. 

You’re left with nightmares of people breaking in to murder you, and the tiny little safehouse does nothing to quell your fears. It’s all cement walls and cold floors. Your room is barely big enough for a twin-size bed and a dresser. There’s a crack in the window that lets in the frigid air at night, and the dining table is barely big enough for the four of you.

Not that the four of you eat together or something. Both Contractors and July are rarely home. Well… that isn’t entirely true. Usually, April is home with you while Jack Simon is out doing who knows what with the Doll. 

April wouldn’t tell you what they were doing. She just said it was ‘reconnaissance’.

But things change three weeks into your little hiding stint. 

You look up from the book April had lent you as Jack and July come in through the front door. July looks as bored as ever but makes a beeline for Al, who perks up at the sight of his friend. Jack, however, seems stressed. He holds an envelope in his hand, running his other hand through his hair and mussing it up. 

It looks… really good like that.

“Any news?” April asks, and Jack simply tosses the envelope and collapses onto the sofa next to you, kicking his feet up in what seems like relief. His head leaned back, and you quickly looked back at your book before he could catch you staring.

“Read the envelope.” He grunted, exhaustion thick in his voice. April shrugs and opens the envelope. 

You set your book down in interest as her eyebrows shoot up, and she looks vaguely alarmed. Well, as alarmed as a Contractor can look, you suppose. 

“Is this real?” She asks, and Jack lolls his head to the side to look at his companion. 

“Took it right out of Ellis’s mailbox. So, unless they planted it—which there might be a chance of that—it’s real.” He said, and you held out a hesitant hand. 

“Can I see?” You ask, and April hands you the envelope and contents. 

You stare blankly at the glossy piece of parchment. It’s an… invitation? The paper is shiny and black, with neat writing in gold lettering. There’s a time, a place, and Mrs. Ellis’s name—which her first name is apparently Ava—all embossed on the front. 

It looked ridiculously expensive. 

“And this is important… Why?” You ask, confused and more than a little worried. Jack finally sits up and plants his feet on the floor,

“It’s a gala. And Ellis is likely to be there. But there’s an issue. And that’s because this organization—and Ellis by proxy—already knows April’s face, which is why she’s been here with you.” He said, rubbing a hand down his face. It was as if a lightbulb went off in your mind,

“So you don’t have a partner to get inside, do you?” You say, and Jack nods an affirmative. April pipes up then,

“She could go with you.” She says and gestures to you. You blink dumbly before it registers just what she has said. 

Go with Jack Simon to a gala?

“Absolutely not!” You and Jack say in unison, and it would’ve been funny had you not panicked at the idea. Though you are panicked likely for a different reason than Jack. April throws her hands up,

“She’s perfect! No one at this organization knows her face!” She tries, and you are already shaking your head. 

“Mrs. Ellis knows my face! Won’t she be there?” You say, and April visibly pauses before her shoulders slump.

Jack, however, seems to be considering the idea despite the outburst. You jab a finger at him in your panic,

“Absolutely not!”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” You grumble, fussing with the strands of hair hanging by your ears. The rest of your hair has been swept up into an elegant chignon at the back of your head. Jack reaches over and moves your hands away from your face.

“Stop touching it. You look stunning.” He says, and you have to turn your head to hide your embarrassment. 

He looks handsome, almost excessively so. Dressed in a pitch-black suit with a plum tie and matching pocket square, he might as well have been a statue at a museum for people to ogle at. You were dressed in a matching plum dress with a low back and cascaded to the floor of the car. The windows were tinted black as always, and you were pretty sure it was the same driver chauffeuring you everywhere. 

The two of you looked for all the world like a couple. 

“Have you arrived yet?” April’s voice crackles to life in your left ear, and it takes all your power not to flinch. She’s just outside the gala event with July, keeping an eye with the Doll’s spectre and the earpiece hidden masterfully in your ear. Jack wasn’t able to have one on account of his shorter hair, so it was up to you to relay any information he or she told you. 

“Not yet. Almost.” You said it, and it was then that the vehicle rolled to a stop. You looked out the window to see couples walking into a large building where the gala was supposedly held. 

You suddenly felt very underdressed despite your extravagant gown. 

Jack got out of the car first and extended a hand to you, which you took. His hands were smooth and cold as they always seemed to be. But he was strong and steady as a rock as you stood and settled your hand on his arm. He leaned down until his lips brushed your ear, 

“Smile, darling, we’re on camera.” He whispered, and you shivered. 

Did he know the effect he had on you? 

He had to. You were rubbish at hiding it. Hell, even April had picked up on it and teased you about your little (ginormous) crush when doing your hair. 

The two of you make it to the doorman, who accepts your (fake) invitation without any issues, and you are allowed inside. 

It’s very quickly that you have to refrain from gasping at the sheer size and magnificence of the interior. There’s a massive crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling, surrounded by murals of angels and demons and everything in between. Couples are already mingling and dancing on the dance floor, and a small string orchestra is set up in the corner, playing soft music. There are tables with white tablecloths set up around the dance floor where more couples and potential donors are chatting.

Jack leads you to the dancefloor,

“Shall we dance?” He asks, and you can’t bring yourself to say no. 

But it isn’t long until you realize you are very out of your comfort zone. You step on Jack’s feet at least twice before he speaks to you again,

“Keep your eyes on me. Let me lead. There’s a good girl.” He murmurs, and you nod, keeping your eyes up and focused on his face. He offers you a charming grin that has your heart thundering in your chest. 

“The target has been spotted. She’s on the second floor.” Comes July’s voice in your ear, 

That was quick. 

You start gently steering Jack toward the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. 

“July found Mrs. Ellis. She’s on the second floor.” You whisper to your dance partner, and he nods without a word, effortlessly taking the reigns of the dance until you leave the floor and make a subtle beeline for the staircase. But of course, you have to make it look natural, so you stop and socialize when the situation calls for it. 

“She’s headed toward the server room,” July says again. So, you relay that information to Jack, who takes the initiative and seems to know where he’s going. Or, at the very least, he’s walking with the confidence to make people believe he knows where he’s going. 

The server room is the third door on the right after rounding a corner in the maze of hallways. Your heels are thankfully muffled by the carpet, but you also have to keep a hand on Jack’s arm to keep from toppling over. 

“Why did April talk me into these death traps.” You mutter under your breath and hear Jack let out a breathy laugh,

“If it’s any consolation, you look lovely.” He replies, and you roll your eyes to hide how your heart has leaped into your throat.

“So you’ve said.”

Mrs. Ellis is hunched over a computer, typing at blinding speeds for a seventy-something-year-old woman. She’s dressed in a turtleneck gown with long sleeves and a thumb drive stuck into one of the servers, which looks very expensive. 

“I thought you’d have more tact than immediately heading to the server room,” Jack quipped from the entrance, and both you and Mrs. Ellis jumped. 

Why was he talking now?! Shouldn’t you have snuck up on her?!

“I danced with a few strapping young gentlemen!” She defended herself without turning and pressed a button. All the lights go out, and you can hear screams of surprise from downstairs. Mrs. Ellis turns and begins to glow blue.

So she was a Contractor…

What was her power? Her arm shoots to an impossibly long length and wraps around your throat, dragging you across the floor until she has you in a chokehold against her torso. Her other arm snatches the thumb drive and stuffs it down the front of her dress for safekeeping. 

“Elasticity. Now, that’s a Contract you don’t see every day.” Jack says, but you’ve spent enough time with him to hear the tightness in his voice. 

He’s worried about you.

He takes a step closer, and Mrs. Ellis’s arm tightens around your throat until you gasp for air. 

“Any closer, and I snap her neck.” Mrs. Ellis snarls, and Jack stops. You can see the lines around his eyes, illuminated by the lights of the blinking servers.

Then… He starts to glow… That pale blue glow with red glowing eyes that you now associated with all Contractors.

Right… You forgot he was a Contractor, too.

It seemed that Mrs. Ellis was not privy to this information because she backed up a bit, and you could hear the panic in her voice when she spoke next. He begins to walk forward and she is too panicked to follow through on her threat.

“Wait—Who are you?! Not the CIA?!” Jack grinned, and you cringed.

It looked so… sinister…

“Darling, I’m November 11 from MI6.” He said proudly, and by then, he was in front of you, grabbing ahold of her coiled arm around your neck. You watch as the skin darkens and frost creeps over the palm and fingers. 

It’s getting cold.

Freezing even.

Soon, you hear a wheezing, rattling gasp behind you, and Mrs. Ellis literally shatters into frozen pieces.

Well, that didn’t take long.

You all but collapse with a choked inhale into Jack Simon’s—or is it November 11?—arms. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“I could’ve died. What do you think?” You snap, instantly feeling bad but also not caring.

He put you in danger.

You.

A civilian.

A regular human.

Someone who had a pet waiting for them at home.

Jack sighed, pulled you upright by wrapping a cold arm around your shoulders, and together, you started walking toward the server room exit. However, instead of bringing you back to the car, he took you to one of the balconies that dot the exterior of the second floor. You lean on the stone railing and rub at your still-tender throat. A cold breeze sweeps through the gardens, and you begin to tremble and cry.

You could have died.

What would’ve happened to Al had you actually died? Would he be given to the shelter? He wouldn’t be adopted. No one would want an overweight bobtail cat who was getting older and was as cantankerous as they came.

A suit jacket was draped over your shoulders, and you look over to see Jack, a lit cigarette between his lips and a sad sort of look on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He says around the cigarette, and you shrug,

“I agreed to this.” You reply, and he shakes his head,

“We more or less coerced you into it. And for that I’m sorry.” He says, and you give a watery laugh,

“Well then, I accept your apology. Thank you.”

The mission is wrapped up without any further issues. Jack, April, and July are summoned back to MI6 headquarters.  You were gifted a brand new apartment with a few months off rent as a thanks for your contributions and an apology for the danger you were put in. 

Part of you wonders if it’s Jack’s doing. You had a feeling that MI6 wasn’t usually this generous.

Either way, you weren’t complaining.

The trio is kind enough to help you move what’s left of your old apartment out of storage and into the new place. July isn’t much help, but he keeps Al occupied, and that’s all you could ask for.

“Will you be alright?” April asks as you heft the last box onto your newly assembled dining table. You turn and smile at her,

“I’ll be fine. Tell your boss thank you for all of this.” You say, and she cackles,

“You have Jack to thank for all of this. It was his idea.” She replies, and you blink.

So you were right! 

Jack peeks his head out of the new guest bedroom where he had been building a bed frame.

“Are you telling her all of my secrets?” He teases, and April sticks her tongue out,

“Only because we love you!” She chirps, and you choke on the water in your mouth.

Love huh?

You actually liked the sound of that.

April decides to track down Al and July, leaving you alone with Jack. You meander your way into the guest bedroom, where Jack is lifting the mattress onto the box spring on the bed frame.

“And done!” He says, wiping the sweat off his brow and turning to see you. You grin at him and reach forward boldly to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you. For everything, I mean. Keeping me safe. All of it.” You say, and he dips his head in what you like to imagine is embarrassment.

“Don’t mention it.” He replies and squeezes your hand back.

The room is silent after that, but you don’t let go, and neither does he.

At least… Until…

“I should really get going. We received another mission this morning, and our flight will leave soon.” He says and your smile drops into a sad sort of quirk of your lips.

“Keep in touch, yeah? Come visit when you’re in the area.” You try, and he huffed a laugh.

“Of course.” He says and lets go of your hand.

You hold Al as Jack Simon, July, and April get into the darkened car on the street. Jack paused before he got in, turned to look up where you were standing, and waved. You waved back as best you could with Al in your arms and smiled until they were out of sight. Then, with a sigh, you head back inside to get Al some dinner.

You only wished you knew you’d never see them again.

[rainydayatelier]

Working on some more of the Darker than BLACK fan animation!

[major-victory]

H a h didn't realize that the pose I am animating November in is pretty close to this canon one lolol

[wombywoo]

hungover 😓

[abovesn4kes]

Totally forgot to post the rest of these designs here! More to follow soon :-)

Doodles below!

[emmster]

Boyfriends? Friends? They don’t know

[alligator-tearzz]

I love assigning posts to RDR2 characters ‼️‼️

[garfieldblunt]

R.I.P VDL gang Y’all would have loved:

Dutch- Family group chats, vapes

Arthur- Vaccines, Getting Forklift Certification

Kieran- Equestrian Veterinary Medicine, My little pony

Micah- Sigma Male TikTok, Prime energy, Reddit

John- Galaxy Wolf shirts, old spice

Javier- the movie Coco, Playing at cafes and bars

Abigail- Life 360, Child leashes

Jack- IPads, Memes from 2013

Uncle- Doctors Notes, Retirement homes

Bill- Pride Month, Gay Bars, Grinder

Molly- Instagram, Therapy

Karen- Reality TV, Twitter Drama

Sean- Jacksepticeye, FNAF

Lenny- College

Swanson- AA meetings

Pearson- Gordon Ramsey, Crock pots

Tilly- Law and Order (the show)

Mary Beth- Wattpad, AO3, The Sims

Charles- National Parks, Safaris

Sadie- Womens Wrestling, Teaching a self defense class

Josiah- Podcasts, Planes

Grinshaw- IKEA, Roombas, Joann’s Fabrik

Hosea- Retirement

I might make another one of these later

[wayzata]

Wayzata football player Jack Simon recognized at Vikings game, receives Super Bowl tickets

Wayzata football player Jack Simon recognized at Vikings game, receives Super Bowl tickets

If you have been following Jack Simon and the Wayzata Football team this season you probably heard about him fighting cancer. Simon and his teammates were recognized by the Minnesota Vikings for being a Hometown Hero–having raised over $9,000 during a fundraising campaign for the Randy Shaver Cancer Research & Community Fund. Feel free to watch the video here: Wayzata junior Jack Simon was���

[olympain]

It'd be great to go back, wouldn't it?

[uselessalexis165]

another one cuz i remembered more ships i liked

[tilbageidanmark]

Simone Biles flip book, from “The Flippist”.

(This is post No. 4,300).

[rainydayatelier]

Our first video is up on YouTube!

Come watch a time-lapse of the thumbnailing process for Cassidy's Darker than BLACK fan animation~

[major-victory]

I am on a mission to finish Cut #03 tonight! And maybe even get started on cuts #04 & #05, but we shall see. Starting in ~30 min!

[bellgraves]

Jack of all Trades Jeans Ghost 🤭

[jackactuallywrites]

Hidden Paradise

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (detailed shagging)

Warnings: Unprotected sex and also shower sex which we all know is unsafe

Summary: You walk in on a man in the shower, it takes you seeing him in the skull mask a week later to realise it was Ghost, and he is very intrigued by your reaction

Notes: This absolutely wouldn’t be possible without @xxven my muse and pookie and beta reader who gave me the plot 🤍❤️ (also raven on TikTok for making a hot thirst trap that inspired a whole scene)

Word Count: 4,195 (I am very horny for ghost)

ao3 link

There was very little luxury to be found on a military base; your military fatigues were never soft, your boots were the cheapest given by the contractors, your bed squeaked every time you so much as moved an inch, and there wasn’t so much as a tealight allowed in the barracks.

However, you’d found a quiet sanctuary. Far from the rest of the buildings on the base, there was a small shower block, disused and forgotten about in favour of the newer, more convenient showers. The water pressure wasn’t all that great, and the tiles would probably never return to whatever shade of white they’d started out as, but all that mattered was that it was so wonderfully, blissfully quiet.

Silence was one of the hardest commodities to come across on a military base; there was always something going on, whether it be a training exercise with a hard-edged sergeant screaming at recruits or the grunts trying out whatever shiny new piece of equipment the government had seen fit to waste money on, but out there in the shower block, muffled by a copse of trees, there was nothing. Beautiful, precious, nothing.

Today had been yet another long lesson in tedium, worsened by the fact that your most beloved friends were out in the field, busy repairing the vehicles with whatever they could scavenge from the base. You already felt exhausted at the idea of how much paperwork you’d have to do after they’d torn through the place, and the day proved you right, with you having to go to every single place in the garages to check what stock had been taken as mechanics had an annoying habit of forgetting to write down what they’d used. It was long into the evening by the time you’d finally finished putting in the orders to replace every strange bit of junk the mechanics had used, and all you could think about was the long shower you were going to take.

The route through the forest was one of the only places you could get away with wearing your headphones and listening to music without getting scolded by the sergeant on patrol, and you took advantage of this privilege every time, blasting some classic disco music in your ears as you approached the shower block, blissfully unaware of the world outside. If not, you might have noticed the sound of the shower running.

As such, you walked into the block thinking of nothing but how your new eucalyptus shower steamer would smell, having got fairly good reviews online. You already had a favourite shower at this point, the one on the very end, with the best water pressure that the rusted old pipes could provide, though it had no door to speak of. You walked along the yellowed tile floor, passing by the empty showers until you finally reached your favourite one, only to find that it was very much not empty.

Standing under the sputtering stream of water was a tall, well-built man, his tan back glistening under the hundreds of droplets of water, highlighting the various white scars on his back, some of them small, some of them intimidatingly large. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down, admiring the muscles in his back and perfectly toned legs, as well as a surprisingly sculpted ass. Whoever he was, he was statuesque in his beauty, as though he had been carved out of marble, and as he turned around to face you, showcasing the golden hair that trailed down from his abs, you caught a glimpse of his shaft, thick and long, yet quickly covered by a large hand.

It was that movement that broke the lustful spell you were under, and your eyes finally stopped ogling his body and flicked up to his face. You didn’t recognise him, not his pale green eyes or his crooked nose, but you could absolutely recognise the outrage on his face, and you yanked down your headphones, keeping your eyes firmly above his waist, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” His voice was little more than a snarl, “Get out.” You had absolutely no desire to argue with a man built like that, so you gave a quick nod and hurried back out of the shower block, not willing to spend a single second more in his presence.

~

Since your encounter in the showers, not a single night had gone past where you hadn’t dreamed about the man, his body, his hands, the dark blond hair that led down his navel, and the thick veins on his forearms. It lurked in the back of your mind, eternally present as a lustful little memory to entertain you during the more boring moments of your day.

Yet again, you were in another meeting writing down what items had been used over the week and what needed to be ordered for the next month's exercise. It was made slightly more interesting by the fact that this time, you were working with the SAS, and not just that, but with some of the most feared soldiers there were, including the worst of the worst, Ghost .

You swore you could almost feel the insidious aura coming from the man in the skull mask, as though it was radiating off him in dark waves. When he spoke, his words were sharp and to the point, never expending more energy than was strictly necessary, and rarely directing his attention to you, sitting in silence and taking notes, not that you were complaining. Every time the man spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as though your body was trying to warn you that he was dangerous. It was only toward the end of the meeting that you finally spoke up, standing and reciting everything that you’d written down in your notebook.

It was times like that where you’d have to put on a brave face as if you feared the room of men no more than a pack of kittens, making sure your voice was loud and firm, forcing them to listen to you. None of them seemed particularly interested; after all, you were a perfect, albeit boring professional, yet you remained undeterred, making eye contact with each of them. Even Ghost was looking at you; you could see those pale green eyes watching you from underneath his skull mask with a strange intensity. You remained undeterred, staring back at the man as you read out the various things that were in stock and what would have to be ordered, yet there was something niggling at the back of your head. Those eyes were strangely familiar.

It took you a second to remember, and then the barely buried memory came back: the beautiful man in the shower, his body glistening, his toned muscles, and the dark blond hair that covered his navel. The words in your mouth died on your tongue, and you saw Ghost’s eyebrow raise underneath his mask as if he was intrigued by your reaction to him. You cleared your throat, hoping that the heat you felt in your cheeks wouldn’t show up on your skin as you dropped your eyes back down to your notebook, pointedly ignoring him as you focused back on your task, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything.

Inexplicably, Ghost spoke up, interrupting your admittedly dull recital of your list, “How soon can we get a restock of the M16 mags?” His question forced you to look over at him, and his pale green eyes seemed as though they were trying to drill right through your head. You refused to back down this time, meeting his gaze no matter how prevalent the image of his naked body was in your mind, even if you did stumble over your words as you flipped through the pages, “Those mags, uh, the ammo for the M16 that is, we ordered those last Tues-Wednesday , so they’ll be in by the end of this week.”

You couldn’t see his expression under his mask, but you could have sworn that it tugged in a way that suggested he was smirking underneath the black fabric, a touch of smugness in his eyes. Was he flirting with you? There was no possible way for you to find out in the middle of a full room, so you decided to put that tantalising idea to the side, wrapping up the last few items on your list and then glancing around the room, “If there’s anything else, please send me an itemised list by the end of the day.”

With that, the meeting was over, every soldier packing up their files, undoubtedly each one as bored as you, and you had little desire to spend any more time with them, especially with the suspiciously intense look Ghost was giving you, so you gave your farewells and left the room as quickly as you could, doing your best to rid your mind of the confusing thoughts whirling around in your mind. Ghost, the supposed ‘psycho’ killer, was flirting with you. Or perhaps threatening you. You weren’t entirely sure which. And yet, you had a strange desire to find out, that small part of you that longed to step into dangerous territory. But how could you? That meeting had been the only time you’d ever interacted with the man; other than your brief encounter in the shower, it didn’t seem like there would ever be another opportunity to be alone with him.

Unless.

Regardless of how outraged he’d been previously, he’d seemed entirely intrigued by you in the meeting, almost amused. You’d seen the direction he was headed; if your mind wasn’t already overtaken with delusional optimism, you could have sworn that he was striding in the direction of the old shower block with what seemed like great determination.

This was one of those deciding moments, a fork in the path where you got to choose what the outcome would be: adherence to your usual routine or something far more thrilling. You could almost feel the clock ticking in your head, your time running short, and for once, you decided to be brave and at least a little bit stupid, heading to your barracks to pick up your things before heading out toward the shower block, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you made your way through the small woods to the brick building.

Even from the outside, you could hear the shuddering of the pipes as they desperately pumped water, your heart beginning to pick up the pace as you pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it softly behind you, now able to hear the pattering of water on the tile floor and see the black clothing draped over the bench that ran the length of the wall. You walked down the centre of the block, approaching the last stall on the end, and yet, you couldn’t take that final step. Everything below the waist was screaming at you to leap into the shower with the man, yet your brain conjured images of the humiliating HR meeting you’d be in if you had, in fact, entirely misinterpreted what were admittedly very subtle hints. You didn’t dare push over that line with a man so far above you in rank, but you weren’t prepared to entirely give up, so you merely slunk into the stall next to his, stripping off your uniform and hanging it on the backside of the door, pulling it to and surrendering yourself to an unsatisfying shower.

The shower head shuddered as you twisted the knob for water, a few spats of water dripping out, yet nothing more. There was a good reason you stuck to that end stall; almost every other shower there had been neglected to the point of failure. You took this as a sign to give up, turning around to get your things, only to find Ghost standing in the now open doorway.

There was nothing but a towel lazily wrapped around his hips to cover him up, his blond hair already soaked, water leaving little trails down his body, pulling your eyes down. You quickly snapped your attention back to his face, your hands already going to cover your chest and between your legs instinctually. Ghost’s eyes lingered on your body before finally flicking to the broken shower head, then back to your face. You could see that intrigued twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a slightly smug smirk, gesturing toward the other shower stall with his head, “Mine works. We should share.”

You almost couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. The exact situation had been playing out in your mind ever since you’d seen him naked, yet never once had you made the connection between your shower Adonis and Lieutenant Ghost. The two couldn’t be reconciled in your head, but you quickly decided that this was a problem to be solved later, if at all. You turned your non-functioning shower off, though slightly reluctant to use the hand covering your chest to do so, and then walked out of the stall, ducking under Ghost’s arm holding the door open for you, and rounding the corner into the warm stream of the only functional shower, allowing the water to wash away all the important questions that should have been asked, only focusing on the present moment.

Though you’d chosen to face away from him, you could still hear the noise of his towel hitting the wall as he tossed it aside, your entire body tensing up as you felt his presence behind you, the nerves nipping at the back of your mind. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, trying to find something else to focus on to quiet your frenzied brain, your eyes flicking to the one bottle of his on the floor in the shower, trying to figure out what scent ‘original’ was supposed to be, and whether one liquid really could be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Your thoughts on his toiletries were brought to an instant halt at the first touch of his hand on your hip, a questioning touch as though he was gauging your interest before moving any further. He might have been feared special forces, yet here, you retained a level of control, of security. You relaxed into his touch, leaning back until you bumped up against his chest, and his arm snaked around your stomach, wrapping tightly around your waist as he stepped forward into the stream from the shower, his head dipping down to rest in the crook of your neck. You could feel his other hand trail a path up your thigh before it, too, wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him in a tight embrace, like a man starved for any sort of touch.

For a moment, the two of you remained in that simple intimacy, your arms resting on top of his, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his embrace. Your hands were the first to move, your fingertips gently trailing over the muscles in his forearms, admiring the strength in them, unable to hold back a smile as you saw the not-so-subtle way he flexed them for you. His hand moved then, and you followed them with your own, one trailing down over your hipbone to the top of your thigh, gently stroking the skin there, the other one shifting up until it was just underneath your breast, pausing right before he touched anywhere interesting.

Clearly, he wasn’t about to touch anywhere without your explicit permission, and you decided to test him, pulling his left hand up until it was settled over your breast. His fingers paused, and you felt the tenseness in his arms, yet after a beat, he stretched out his fingers, tracing a little pattern over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple before his hand covered your boob entirely, gently squeezing it in his hand. You could feel his breathing growing heavier, every exhale blowing air over the skin of your neck, but you had no intention of stopping, relaxing into his touch, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your eyes closed. The hand on your thigh had grown tight, fingers digging into your flesh, and you began to move his hand further in to where you could feel a growing need for his touch.

The further you moved his hand, the tighter his grip on your chest got, pulling you closer against him until you could finally feel his hardness pressed against the small of your back. His clear excitement emboldened you further, and you pushed his hand firmly between your legs, letting his fingers slightly part your labia to rest on your clit. That action earned you a low growl from him, and he buried his face into your shoulder as he pushed his fingers further down, touching the slick wetness beginning to leak out of your needy pussy. The second he felt your wetness, he drew his fingers back from you, digging them into your hip and pulling you firmly against him, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your neck as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

You had no problem allowing him to take his time, focusing on the simple pleasure of the warm water on your skin and the heat emanating from his chest to your back. His hand moved back to your pussy, more determined than before, as he slid his fingers down your slit, gently probing your slick hole with his fingers. As he slowly slid one in, he let out a strangled groan, shifting his face so he could bite down on the flesh of your neck, his other hand massaging your breast as his finger began to easily slip inside you. He stretched his thumb up to rest on your clit as he gently began to pump his finger in and out of you, rubbing in little circles, and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

The slightest of noises from you seemed to spur him on, and he pushed another finger inside you, beginning to kiss and suck at your neck as he did so, your body easily accepting his two fingers, and so he followed it with a third, his dick twitching with excitement against your back as all three of his fingers sank inside you without resistance.

Whatever good sense you had left was beginning to dissipate in the haze of your lust, and you reached your hand behind you to wrap around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke him as he gently fucked you with his fingers. He rewarded you with a soft groan in your ear, and so you quickened your pace, beginning to pump his dick in earnest, wanting him to receive the same pleasure as you. Your body was eagerly opening up around him, and the last bit of your intelligence vanished as your desperation for him overpowered you, and you begged for stupidity in two words.

“Fuck me.”

There was no hesitance in Ghost’s touch now as he pulled his fingers out of you, turning you to face him and then bending down to grab your thighs and lift you up, pinning you to the cool, damp wall of the shower stall. You could see the lust in his eyes as he shifted to hold you with only one hand, the other quickly moving to his dick, positioning it at your slick entrance and then slowly beginning to lower you down onto him. There was no comparison to the pleasure you felt, not only from feeling him slide into you, but to watch his face as he did so, his open lips, the desperate look in his eyes, his gaze entirely focused on you as though you were Aphrodite herself. You sunk your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud as you felt him stretch out your insides, yet you let your hands dig into his shoulders, your nails raking his skin as you felt every inch of him.

When you finally sunk down to the base of his cock, he leant forwards to rest his head on the wall beside you, clearly struggling to contain his composure, his hand digging into the flesh of your thigh, the other splayed out on the cool tile wall. He took a second to breathe before he began to slowly thrust up into you, his hand shifting from your thigh to your hip to pin you in place. Even in your wetness, you could feel how big he was, filling you up so perfectly, and you arched your back against him, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you. His eyes were on you now, and he moved his hands from the wall to your lips, tugging your bottom lip out from between your teeth and issuing you a singular command, his gaze intense.

“I want to hear you.”

Even in your pleasure, you couldn’t stop yourself from obeying a command from your superior officer, and you let out the moans you’d been holding back, tightening your legs around his waist to pull him into you as much as possible, your fingers raking against his back as he fucked you, his hips beginning to move more forcefully against you. His fingers now moved to your hair, brushing the errant strands out of your face and then shifting down to cup your cheek, lifting your face, his voice soft, “Look at me.”

There was no mistaking the utter lust in his gaze when you looked up at him, yet you could also see quite a great deal of tenderness, of genuine care, which only served to heighten your pleasure, your hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you clung to him, desperately grinding your hips against him. He picked up his pace further yet still restrained himself from fully slamming into you, his grip like a vice on your thigh. His voice grew hoarser as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, clearly strained, “Touch yourself.”

In another situation, you might have felt insecure, yet you were entirely awash in lustful pleasure, and so you obeyed, reaching down with one hand to begin rubbing circles around your increasingly sensitive clit, feeling that same build of pleasure in your core as Ghost fucked you faster still, his expression growing more desperate by the second. He leant forward to whisper his final command against your lips.

“Come for me.”

Your body seemed honour-bound to obey him as your pussy clenched around his dick, your pleasure building until it finally crescendoed, with Ghost’s lips crashing onto yours as you finished, his hips moving frantically as he desperately fucked you, his thrusts stuttering as he finally shot his load deep inside you, his body crushing yours into the wall in a tight embrace. Your kisses became softer as the both of you came down from your frenzied high, his grip on your body loosening slightly, your death grip around his neck becoming less deadly.

With a satisfied groan, Ghost let himself sink to the floor, pulling you down along with him into his lap, letting his dick remain inside you as you settled more comfortably on top of him, resting against his chest as he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower back, cradling you against him. After such bodily heat, the comparatively cool water of the shower felt heavenly on your skin, washing away your intermingled sweat.

You probably could have slept there, with Ghost still buried inside you, yet he was not so spellbound. With a gentle movement, he pulled his softening length out of you, reaching over to grab the bottle of soapy liquid he’d left on the floor. Then, he repositioned you so you were now sitting in between his legs, his thick thighs boxing you in as he opened the bottle behind you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, nor did you care, still awash in a pleasant afterglow. The touch of his fingers gently massaging the liquid into your hair was a heavenly surprise, and you practically melted into his hands, a human-sized pile of putty perfectly manipulated by him. He ran his fingers through the length of your hair, thoroughly soaping up every strand before he let the cool water wash away the suds.

Then, he got to work on your body. Never had you been so grateful for three-in-one soap as it meant you didn’t have to miss a second of his warm chest against your back as he began to soap up your body, his fingers incredibly gentle against your skin, paying attention to every single part of you, and then letting you lean back against his chest as the water washed everything away, his arms coming to rest around your waist. Every single care of yours seemed to follow the soap down the train as you relaxed into him, enjoying the way he rested his chin on your head as you closed your eyes, finally entirely at ease.