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familyvideostevie · 5 months ago

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to close up all the rest

joel miller x reader | 3.2k

a patrol rattles you. joel keeps you grounded.

cw: typical tlou violence, intense emotions about being alive/death, love, something to live for. post-part i jackson au

a/n: just a little jackson au one-shot. this is a christmas present for darling @macfrog. thank you for existing, i love you. hope this is alright.

It's been a long time since someone died in front of you.

You don't even know her. Honestly, you should be glad the runner grabbed her, considering she just finished shooting at you. Your patrol partner, a kid called Joey who usually works the stables, shouts your name as you watch it sink its teeth into her neck over and over again.

She doesn't even scream.

"More are coming," he cries. "We have to go."

He's right. The woman's gunshot echoed in the valley and it's not yet cold enough for the herds to be slow, so you have a few minutes at most to get out of here. Probably less.

Groans on the wind. Definitely less.

You shake yourself out of the twisted thrall you've fallen into and look away. Heart in your throat, blood pounding in your ears, you quickly tie your bags to your horse and scan the street.

"Do you have your pack?" you ask Joey.

If she was screaming you'd shoot her. Put an end to it. But it might be a waste of a shot and then the runner would be on you in ten big steps. Fuck.

"Got it!"

You both mount skittish rides and take off down the cracked pavement. The patrol had an added ask of raiding some neighborhoods for linens that can be turned into bandages. You each have a big bag of old clothes, curtains, blankets, and the like strapped to the back of your saddles. The woman had appeared out of the tree line just as you finished the last house, demanding your stuff. There was protocol for this -- Joey would distract her while you went for the gun strapped to the back of your jeans.

But she was skittish, this woman. She fired at the pavement in front of you as soon as your hand twitched.

And then, well.

After a few miles of steady galloping you signal for Joey to slow. The forest is quiet as you turn onto the path down the hill that will lead you back to Jackson.

"I can't believe she shot at us," the kid says. "Stupid."

You sigh. "She was desperate," you say, remembering how wild her eyes looked. "And alone. If she had people with her she wouldn't have."

"You think?"

It's been some time but you did your days alone in this world. It's bloody, it's terrifying, it's punishing. You stop trusting anyone and eventually you stop trusting yourself. Wondering why you keep trying. Without community you lose sight of what matters. You lose sight of how you can not just survive this hell on earth, but live in it.

If she had wanted to do that, instead, maybe you could have told her it was possible.

"Yeah," you say. The walls of Jackson come into view and you think about what awaits you. A warm house, an even warmer embrace. Safety, security, home. "Having people makes all the difference."

Joey waves the green flag and the gates open for you. After returning your horse and checking to make sure the kid isn't too traumatized -- frankly, he seems totally unbothered -- you walk back to the house. The sun is starting to set, painting everything golden, but you can see the clouds rolling in. Might be that snow that everyone keeps anticipating. Most mornings you hear chatter about it. Small talk about the weather persists after the end of the world.

A few folks wave hello, ask after Ellie's new dog, say they hope you've got your firewood ready. Jackson is a thing out of dreams. Solid walls, even steadier people. Good rules, smart leaders. You feel lucky every day that they let you stay here. That you've made a home here.

That home is in sight when you turn on Rancher and what you spy on the porch makes you pick up your pace.

Joel.

He's rocking in the one chair out front, guitar slung across his lap like an afterthought as he strums with his eyes closed. It'll be too cold to sit out, soon, so he spends most evenings playing while he can still stand it.

A heaviness you didn't realize you were carrying lessens a little at the sight of him.

"Hey, stranger," you call as you walk up the steps.

His gaze falls on you, the hazel in his irises more evident in the fading light of the late afternoon. God, he looks beautiful. Like everything you've ever wanted.

"Howdy," he says. The guitar goes up against the house and he stands, meeting you at the top step. "How was patrol?"

You falter, smile frozen on your face. You should tell him, but you don't know what you'd say. A stranger died in front of you and it's put your stomach in knots? It's not that he'll laugh at you, or anything like that. You just need to chew on it a little longer. And right now you're steps away from the warm inside of your home and inches away from the man you love, so you decide to push it aside.

"The usual," you muse. Joel furrows his brow just a little and searches your gaze, but whatever he finds in your eyes causes him to let it go.

"Okay," he says, softly. He taps your chin with his knuckle and turns toward the front door, snagging his guitar on the way. "You hungry? Ellie brought by some soup."

"Did she make it?"

Your layers go on the hooks by the door, your boots next to his in the hall. He heads for the kitchen.

"Hell no," Joel says, deep voice echoing through your house. "Dina did."

"So it's edible?"

You pad on socked feet over creaking hardwood and find him over a pot on the stove, bowl in hand.

"Tried a bit and it didn't kill me," he says. "Waited for you to get home to eat, though."

"And Tommy says you were raised in a barn," you tease, kissing his cheek before he ladles the soup for you.

Joel grunts and you laugh. "Hot bowl," he says. "Careful."

For some reason, his gentle caution makes your chest hurt. You think about the woman from today, how she had no one telling her to be careful. How she made a mistake, or maybe a reckless choice. How she didn't even scream.

There are many very difficult days in this life and you dealt with them on your own for a long time. It's taken practice and mounds of patience from Joel and the other people in this town who love you, but you've learned that you can let other people help you through those days. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard.

You sit at the table across from Joel and try not to let your mood take over.

"You alright?" Joel asks, frown firmly in place. "Maybe Ellie did make the soup--"

"It's good, Joel," you say, smiling a little. If he asks you how you are one more time, you'll crack. And you're not ready yet. "Will you tell me about your day?"

He sighs, no doubt seeing through your second deflection, but allows it.

"Let's see," he starts, leaning back in his chair. "Tommy had me handlin' that bullshit with the kids who went huntin'."

Last week, three teenagers snuck out with the grand idea that they'd bag an elk or something just as big and bring it back for fame and glory or whatever kids think is worth life and death these days. It hadn't gone as badly as it could have, but it was pretty bad. They'd stolen a rifle from the patrol cache and only made it a few miles before one of them slipped down a bank and broke his ankle. Joel had been the one to lead the search party when someone realized they were missing.

He's got a soft spot for teenagers.

"It's good for them to learn," you remind him. He sucks on his teeth and rubs at his jaw. You slurp on some more soup and a thought at odds with your sour mood dances through your memory -- how good his beard felt on your skin last night. Jesus. He does something to you, this man.

"Should know better," he says, oblivious to the echo of your desire. "Havin' them clean all the guns is one thing but once that kid heals up I'm tellin' Tommy we oughta start a trainin' class or somethin'. Let them get outside the walls and hunt if they want. With supervision."

"Keep talking like that and Maria will make you join the council," you muse.

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure as shit not doin' that."

"You'd be good at it, Joel. People listen to you."

"I have a hard enough time gettin' my own kid to listen to me," he reminds you. "Hell, you, too."

It's less of a jab and more of an attempt to get you to cheer up, and it works. You laugh at him, delighted to vex him so. As if he does anything but melt for Ellie. And for you -- both of you know just how wrapped around you he is. He'll do anything for his family. You've seen proof of it.

"If only the council had a uniform," you sigh, exaggerating your disappointment. "You'd look so handsome in one."

"Watch it," he says, eyes sparkling.

You tap his foot under the table with yours. "Just being truthful," you tease, though it rings a little hollow given the fact that you're swerving talking about your own day.

Joel hums and leans back in his chair. "You gonna tell me what happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

Even as you chew on how to swerve him once again, you find yourself going back to the patrol. The way your senses sharpened when she stepped out of the trees, how you saw all the ways it could go wrong. Her twitchy hand, her wide eyes. The crack in her voice when she demanded your packs. The echo of the gunshot and your own heartbeat loud in your ears wondering if today was the day you wouldn't make it home. When the runner leapt out of nowhere and latched onto her. How easily your life could have ended that way, too.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," Joel says, not unkindly. "Where are you?"

You chew on your lower lip. This would be a lot easier if the words would just come to you, if you knew how to explain yourself.

"Joel--"

"Alright, that's it," he says. Joel gets up with a groan, stretching his arms high in the air, and heads for the front door.

"What?" you ask, confused, but you follow him into the hall. "Joel, where are you going?"

"We're goin' for a walk." He shrugs on his jacket and waves you over. "C'mon."

"But the dishes--"

"Will be here when we get back," he finishes. "Now, get your coat on. Hat, too. Reckon the snow is gonna start tonight."

You could fight him about it, say you're cold and tired and just want to sit on the couch. Tell him to stop badgering you, to let sleeping dogs lie.

But that's the thing about Joel -- you trust him. Outside the walls, inside your home. With your life and with your heart. You're safe in his hands. And you've been here before plenty of times. After nightmares from both of you, after hard days in town, after his fights with Ellie or Tommy or whatever it is. You walk and you talk it out. Fresh air helps, Joel often says. It's the father in him, the caretaker, the man who knows when to listen and when to push. He's taught you a lot about that.

So you shove your feet back into your boots and Joel tugs a knit hat over your ears. The sun finished setting while you were eating, Jackson now illuminated by the gas lamps and string lights hanging between the posts.

Normally you'd be content to just walk with Joel side by side, as is your usual routine. He's not a particularly public man when it comes to affection, though you never doubt that he's thinking of you. His eyes find yours in every room and he easily finds you in every crowd. By now, you've got your own language.

But, given that he's brought you out here to no doubt get you to be honest about your complicated feelings, he offers you his arm for support. You take it with a dry look that he matches.

Never one to let you off easily, this man. Not when he knows he can help, at least.

"You know what I'm gonna say," he grumbles.

It helps to talk.

It's basically a mantra in your house. Ellie says he didn't used to be like this. The total opposite, in fact. You know that it's her that brought him back to this version of himself -- he did it because she asked. And maybe you coming along helped, too. He might seem gruff and guarded to those who don't know him but it's all so he can protect who and what he loves.

And this is one of his ways -- not letting things go unsaid.

"I don't know where to start," you say. "I don't know how to explain it."

Joel rubs a hand over his jaw. "Try the beginning," he suggests. "It was patrol, right? Somethin' happened?"

You nod.

"We saw a woman," you start. You close your eyes and picture her, letting Joel lead you down the street. "She came out of the woods just as we finished the last house."

"Hostile?"

You look at Joel. His jaw is tense, as if you're not standing in front of him safe and sound. Always trying to fix hurts he had nothing to do with.

"She had a gun, yeah," you continue. "Demanded our stuff. We were ready to do the protocol but then she shot at us."

Joel stops in his tracks, pulling you with him. "She did what?"

"And missed, obviously," you remind him. "But it was a stupid mistake, since we weren't far from that town with the herd. She had to have seen traces of them and known they were there."

"Christ," he mutters. You tug on his arm and he starts walking again.

"And before we could do anything a runner tackled her to the ground."

Joel curses under his breath. "Unlucky."

It starts to snow. You look up at the white flakes falling from the dark sky as you figure out how to say what happened next.

"Go on," Joel says, softly. "This is the part that bothered you, I reckon."

"She didn't even scream, Joel," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. "She just went down."

"Ah."

All of it comes to a boil and the words pour out of you.

"I mean, why did she shoot in the first place? She was jumpy, sure, but she was alone, too. She looked so tired, so desperate, and the way it lunged for her I know it didn't kill her on the first bite. No screaming, she just took it. She took it and gave up. I don't -- she must have had nothing, to give up like that. It's just so fucked up --"

Your voice breaks. Joel pulls you to a stop and unwinds your arms so he can put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ain't nothin' you can do about someone else's lot," he says. "She made her mistakes."

"I know," you retort, "but that could have been me."

"It ain't you."

"But it could have been, Joel!" You're not angry with him, but you're frustrated. "If things had worked out differently for me, it could have been. If I never found Jackson, if I was still out there. It could have been me."

He exhales sharply, reigning in his own desire to remind you that you're safe. That you're here, that you're with him. That he won't let anything bad happen to you.

"Lots of things could be different," he says, slowly. "Could spend days thinkin' 'bout that stuff. Years."

"I guess I'm just sad for her." The snow has gathered in Joel's hair and you reach for him to brush it away. He allows it, keeping his eyes on yours. "I think she wanted to die."

"It's a hard life on the road."

You sigh. "I know, Joel," you say. "I just -- it's been a long time since things have been that bad for me. And it was hard to be reminded, you know?"

His hands move from your shoulders to cup your face, thumbs your skin. "I know, sweetheart," he replies. "We've all been there. Hard not to think about givin' up at least once in this shit hole."

It gets a dry laugh out of you.

"But you ain't givin' up. You fight tooth and nail every single time 'cause you've got so much to get back to. And it'll get you home."

You lean into one of his palms, your lips brushing along the heel of his hand. "I know, Joel."

He's not done. "For a long time I was like that. Not carin' much how things went, so long as I got to get my hands dirty. But Ellie --" he swallows, the love he has for his girl getting in the way of his words " -- and you tie me to this damn place. Make me get up every day, make me remember how things can be good. And someday it'll be my turn --"

"Joel--"

"No, listen. Someday it'll be my turn, and I'll go knowin' I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to get what I got. Time."

You can't take it anymore. You pitch forward into his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. Now that he's said it, you realize why the whole thing bothered you so much. You don't want to die. You don't want to lose the life you have now. The home you have with this man, the way he loves you. The way you love him. It makes you feel human, it makes you feel alive.

And you feel damn bad for anyone who doesn't have something to live for.

Joel's hand presses into your spine. Maybe in a different life you'd be worried that he'd think you're silly for being so bothered about this, but he always takes you seriously. You both know how quickly you can lose something, how much it matters to make the time you have count.

"Thank you," you say into his jacket. He scoffs.

"C'mon, now." He gently pulls away from your embrace to look at you. He brushes snow from your shoulders and hat with careful fingers. "Let's go home."

Home. For so long you never thought you'd have one.

Joel must see the vulnerability in your eyes because he leans in to press his lips to yours gently. An anchoring touch, a reminder of how he feels.

"Getting frisky, Mr. Miller," you mutter when he pulls away. He snickers and you sneak another kiss as he pinches your hip through your coat.

"Home," he says again.

You couldn't agree more.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last us of fanfiction

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natsaffection · 3 months ago

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Auge um Auge pt. 4 | N.R

Investigator!older!Natasha x Robber!younger! reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), gun, angst, oral (r receiving) fingering (r receiving), dirty talking, kinda obsessed Natasha?

Word count: 6,4k

A/n: I was so carried away, I actually wanted to stay overall cute and softness, but well….🙅🏻‍♀️

The light in the tent flickered slightly as Maria sat at her desk, her brow furrowed as she stared at the screen in front of her. The data she was reviewing just didn’t make sense. She opened a new file, checked it again, and bit her bottom lip unconsciously. She stood, grabbed the printed documents, and made her way to Natasha, who was in the middle of discussing a protocol with another investigator. Maria lingered at the edge of the conversation, waiting for Natasha to finish before clearing her throat to get her attention.

“Nat.” Maria said quietly, though her voice carried a serious undertone. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Natasha looked up, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the expression on Maria’s face. “Of course.”

Maria hesitated before stepping closer. “It’s about Y/n.” Natasha set down the documents she was holding and crossed her arms. “What about her?”Maria handed her a report. “I did some basic digging on her after you brought her into the tent. Just to make sure she was clean.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, already annoyed. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know.” Maria replied evenly. “But I thought it could be important. And guess what I found?” She gestured to the report. “She owns a warehouse. A whole warehouse, Nat. And it’s not a normal one. It’s not even officially registered, at least not under her name.” Natasha frowned, taking the paper and scanning the details. “And what exactly is that supposed to prove?”

Maria shrugged, but her eyes were sharp. “It’s suspicious. A young woman who claims she’s hardly ever home and works at a café has a place no one knows about? And she’s paying for it..what? under the table?” Natasha exhaled a frustrated breath, letting the piece of paper fall to the table. “Maria, I get that you’re trying to do your job, but this isn’t evidence. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Nat!” Maria pressed, her voice harder now, “she told you exactly what you wanted to hear. A girl with a tough background who needs protection. I get it. But you can’t deny something doesn’t add up.” Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms tighter. “I’ve been in this line of work for years. I’ve got enough experience to tell when someone’s hiding something. And I’m telling you, she’s not a criminal.”

“I know you’re good at what you do, but sometimes feelings can cloud the best instincts.” Maria try’s and is leaning in. “This isn’t that.” Natasha said sharply, leaning forward. Her eyes sparkled with conviction. Maria scoffed quietly. “And the warehouse?”

“Maybe it’s a safe place..!” Natasha countered. “Somewhere she feels secure. There’s no proof she’s doing anything illegal. I’m not going to treat her like a suspect just because she doesn’t fit your mold.” Maria paused, her eyes searching Natasha’s face. “And if you’re wrong?”

Natasha took a deep breath, her voice softer but still firm. “If I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it. But I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and my instincts tell me she’s harmless.” Maria nodded slowly, her gaze heavy. “I hope you’re right, Natasha. I really hope I’m wrong.” Natasha’s tone turned cooler as she gave Maria a pointed look. “Why do you care so much? Is this about the case, or is it…personal?” Maria stared at her, momentarily speechless. “Seriously? You think I’m saying this because I’m jealous?”

“You said it, not m.” Natasha replied with a smug smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But you’ve been showing a lot of interest in Y/n lately.”

“Natasha.” Maria said sharply, her patience wearing thin. “This isn’t a game. If I’m sure she’s hiding something, it’s because there are signs. Not because I’m jealous.” Natasha took a step back, folding her arms more tightly. “She’s not a suspect, Maria. She has nothing to do with this case.”

“You can’t know that!” Maria shot back firmly. “You’re letting your feelings for her cloud your judgment!” Natasha shook her head, her jaw tense. “I’m not letting my feelings get in the way, Maria. But I know when I can trust someone, and I trust her.” Maria looked at her, her gaze sharp and tinged with sadness. “I hope you’re right, Nat. I really hope I’m wrong. But if I’m right-” She stopped, her voice softening. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Natasha didn’t respond immediately, staring at Maria for a long moment. Finally, she picked up the piece of paper from the table, crumpled it, and tossed it into the trash. “Do what you want, Maria. But leave me out of your games.” Maria stood still, watching Natasha for a moment before leaving the room, leaving her alone.

Hours later, Maria was still in the darkness of the tent, the faint light from her screen reflecting on her face. Around her, the tent was nearly empty, most of the investigators had already gone home. But Maria couldn’t pull herself away. The feeling that she was missing something important gnawed at her.

She went over the recorded conversations between The Professor and Lisbon once more. Lisbon’s voice had bothered her from the start..it was soft, almost too uncertain for someone playing such a key role in the operation. Maria hadn’t been able to connect it to a real person yet, but something about you kept nagging at her.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she went through your background data again. The unused warehouse, your seemingly aimless lifestyle..it all screamed someone trying to lay low but hiding something significant. Maria couldn’t shake the suspicion. Then she noticed a detail she’d overlooked before. A digital footprint, encrypted communication traced back to a banking network. She compared it to the voice data from Lisbon. Her eyes widened as the match came up. It was undeniable. The voice matched at 90%.

“Holy shit..” Maria murmured, her fingers trembling slightly as she copied the files. The patterns in the data and the voice couldn’t be ignored. You weren’t just an innocent civilian. You were deeply involved in the operation..you were Lisbon. Maria grabbed her phone and dialed Natasha’s number. It rang. And rang. And went to voicemail.

Meanwhile, Natasha sat at a cozy table in an elegant little restaurant. The light was warm and dim, candles flickered on every table, and soft music played in the background. You sat across from her, a shy smile on your lips as you held a glass of wine in your hands.

“Thank you for accepting the invitation.” Natasha said with a gentle smile, watching you closely. “It’s…nice. Thank you.” Natasha took a sip from her own glass, her eyes fixed on you. “I wanted to get to know you better. Away from…everything else.” You laughed softly, your voice nervous. “You mean away from my constant presence at the café?” Natasha grinned. “Nothing against the coffee, but it was getting a little repetitive.”

You glanced briefly at your glass before meeting Natasha’s gaze again. “I’m glad you asked me. It’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this.” But as you spoke, a thought crept into Natasha’s mind: Maria’s words. The conversation earlier in the day had lingered at the edges of her thoughts. The suspicion, the warehouse, the questions..they were like a shadow at the edge of this evening. “Natasha?” your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Hmm?” Natasha blinked, forcing a smile. “Sorry, I was just distracted for a second.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your eyes searching hers. “Yes.” Natasha lied, her smile remaining calm, though inside, she was battling with herself. Why can’t I just let Maria’s words go?

Meanwhile, Maria was relentless. After several failed attempts to reach Natasha, she decided on a different approach. She needed proof, something Natasha couldn’t ignore. Maria combed through the data again and finally found something undeniable: an encrypted login tied to the banking system, linked to your old digital signatures from your days as a hacker. Maria held her breath as she compared the files. Once again, it was clear.

You weren’t just Lisbon. You were one of the key figures behind the entire operation.

Maria opened her messaging app and typed quickly: Nat, call me. It’s important!! Y/n is Lisbon!She attached the files to the message, her heart pounding. She knew Natasha wouldn’t take this lightly, but she needed to know.

You had just leaned back when Natasha’s phone vibrated on the table. Natasha glanced at it, saw Maria’s name flash on the screen, and pushed the phone aside.

“Do you want to get that? It sounds important..” you asked cautiously. “No.” Natasha answered calmly, though her brow furrowed slightly in concern. “You’re more important right now.” But the uneasy feeling lingered. As you reached for your wine glass, Natasha discreetly turned the phone over and read Maria’s message.

Y/n is Lisbon!

The words hit her like a blow. Her hands clenched around the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes skimmed the message again, then the attached evidence: traces in the banking system, signatures that unmistakably linked to your hacker past. The connections were too clear to ignore. Natasha’s body tensed, her heartbeat unsteady, but she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. This can’t be true. No. It can’t be.

She lifted her gaze and looked at you, smiling as you sipped your wine, blissfully unaware of the world crumbling around you. Natasha swallowed hard, sliding the phone into her jacket pocket as she tried to control her breathing. Her thoughts raced. You’ve been lying to me this whole time? Every touch, every smile, every explanation, all lies?

But she couldn’t confront you here. Not now. If you were really Lisbon, you weren’t just a liar, no, you were central to one of the largest heists Natasha had ever investigated. “Is everything okay?” you asked again, your eyes searching hers. Natasha forced a soft smile. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” You nodded, but you seemed to notice her subtle tension. “Are you sure? You seem…different.”

“It’s just the wine..” Natasha said lightly, raising her glass. She looked directly at you as she spoke, her voice softening, becoming more seductive. “You know, I was thinking we could make the evening a little…more exciting.” Your face reddened slightly, your eyes widening with curiosity. “What do you mean by that?”

Natasha leaned forward, her hand gently resting on yours. “Why don’t we head to the bathroom? Just the two of us. Something…private.” Your heart raced. Scenarios played out in your mind, each one making you more nervous than you cared to admit. The bathroom? Now? You felt your hands trembling slightly but forced a small smile. You nodded, rising from your seat and heading toward the bathroom, your heart pounding wildly. Your thoughts swirled. What’s she doing? Why now? You stepped into the bathroom, closed the door behind you, and looked into the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. “Calm down!” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just Natasha.”

In the hallway, Natasha stood with trembling fingers, her phone still in her hand. Maria’s message was clear and unambiguous. Evidence that tied you to the heist, signatures and traces that pointed to no one else. Her knees felt weak, her heart drummed loudly in her chest. You are Lisbon.

She couldn’t believe it. The girl I let into my life. The girl I…cared for. Disappointment, betrayal, and above all, pain gnawed at her. But she couldn’t let herself be overwhelmed by these emotions now. She had to act. Her hand instinctively moved to the grip of her weapon, her steps slow but deliberate. Yet another thought crept into her mind: What if I’m wrong? What if she has an explanation?

You didn’t notice Natasha until the door softly clicked shut behind her. You turned your head, a small, uncertain smile on your lips, one that immediately vanished when you saw the gun in Natasha’s hand. Your eyes widened, and you froze. “N-Natasha?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha held the gun steadily in front of her, her stance firm, her eyes cold. “Hands up.” she said, her tone sharp, carrying a coldness you had never heard from her before. “What…what’s going on?” you asked, your voice shaking as you slowly raised your hands, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t read the expression in her eyes, there was anger, yes, but beneath it was something deeper. Something raw. Pain.

“I said, hands up!” Natasha’s voice thundered in the small room, and your legs felt like they might give out beneath you. You obeyed, tears already welling up in your eyes. “What…what are you doing??” Your voice cracked as you stared at the weapon in her hand. Natasha let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a choked noise. “What am I doing? I’m arresting you Y/n! Or should I say Lisbon?”

Your heart stopped. She knows. It’s over. The Professor’s words echoed in your mind: Stay calm. You’re only caught when there’s no doubt. But how could you stay calm when Natasha, the only person you might truly care about was pointing a loaded gun at you?! Natasha stepped closer, the gun still trained on you. Her eyes shimmered with suppressed tears, but her voice remained icy. “Don’t move. Don’t say a word. You’ve lied enough.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “I I don’t know what you’re talking about. Natasha, please let-“

“Stop, Y/N!” Natasha’s voice rose, sharper this time. “I have the evidence. Maria sent me everything. Your signature. Your damn warehouse. You used me this whole time, didn’t you?”

“No!” you cried, your voice breaking in panic. “That’s not true! I would never use you!”

“Shut up!” Natasha hissed, her fingers gripping the gun so tightly her knuckles turned white. “I trusted you. I thought…” Her words faltered, and she clenched her jaw, shaking her head. “It was all lies..”You were trembling all over, your thoughts racing. Is this the end? Am I really going to be arrested now? But you forced yourself to remember the Professor’s advice: Wait. Stay in character.

“Please, Natasha..!” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making a mistake. I didn’t play you..!” But Natasha wasn’t the woman you’d come to know over the past weeks. Standing before you now was the agent. Hardened, unrelenting, and unyielding. Yet deep in Natasha’s chest, a different battle raged. I’m pointing a gun at someone I cared for. At someone I..trusted.

Natasha felt her chest tighten as she looked at you, your trembling figure, pale face, and tear-filled eyes. It was like a punch to the gut. How could I have been so wrong? But alongside the anger was something else. A pain that had nothing to do with betrayal. Why does it feel like I’m losing her, even though she’s the one who lied to me? Natasha shook her head, forcing herself to push the emotions away. She couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now.

“Turn around.” she commanded sharply, her voice hard once more. You hesitated, your body shaking so badly you could barely breathe. “Please, Natasha…”

“Turn around, or I’ll turn you around myself.” Natasha snapped. With a strangled sob, you finally obeyed, turning slowly and placing your trembling hands behind your back. Natasha pulled the handcuffs from her pocket, her movements mechanical, almost robotic. The sound of the cuffs clicking into place echoed in the small room, and you felt panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Natasha stepped back, her gun still trained on you. “We’re going to your warehouse now. And you’re going to show me what you’re hiding.” You turned your head slightly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Natasha, please…this is a misunderstanding.”

“Shut up!” Natasha snapped, her voice breaking. “You had your chance to tell me the truth. It’s too late now.” Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your thoughts racing. I have to convince her. I have to find a way to make her believe me. But the look in Natasha’s eyes made you doubt there was any chance left. Natasha placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping you firmly as she led you toward the bathroom door. Her steps were heavy, and inside her chest, a storm of anger, grief, and disappointment raged. “You had your chance.” Natasha growled, her voice sharp. “Now the facts will speak for themselves.”

The tension in the car was unbearable, like an invisible wall separating you and Natasha. You sat in the passenger seat, your hands still cuffed behind your back, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The only sound was the low hum of the engine. Your thoughts raced, your mind a labyrinth of fear and hope. What if they really search the warehouse? What if the Professor is there right now? But as Natasha turned onto a familiar path, your eyes widened.

That warehouse…? It was the one you had hacked and claimed years ago. A place that had saved you from the cold and homelessness after you had lost everything. Relief washed over you, but tears pricked your eyes. The relief was quickly smothered by another feeling. Natasha’s broken expression. From the corner of your eye, you caught the occasional glance she cast your way. The hardness in her gaze was laced with pain, and it hurt you more than you thought possible.

Natasha abruptly parked in front of the old warehouse, the car tires crunching against the gravel. She got out, walked to the passenger side, and yanked the door open. “Out.” she commanded, her voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. You obeyed shakily, your hands aching from the cuffs behind your back. Natasha grabbed your arm and guided you to the warehouse door, which she kicked open with force.

The darkness inside was oppressive until Natasha raised her gun with one hand and flicked on the light with the other. The room flooded with warm, simple light..and Natasha froze. It wasn’t a hideout filled with plans or stolen riches. It wasn’t a space worthy of a professional thief. Instead, it was a sparsely furnished living space. An old bed in the corner, a small dresser, a makeshift table with a laptop. A tiny heater hummed quietly, and photos hung on the walls, snapshots of a time long gone.

Natasha blinked, her gun still raised, but her hands trembled slightly. “W-What…?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with confusion. She slowly lowered the weapon, her fingers shaking as she holstered it. Her breathing was unsteady, the reality of the situation hitting her like a dagger to the chest. She was a professional, trained, calm under pressure, yet here she was, a lump in her throat, the weight of her actions nearly knocking her over.

You stood a few steps away, your hands still cuffed, tears glistening in your eyes. Yet your gaze didn’t waver from Natasha, even as your body trembled. “This is…everything?” Natasha asked finally, her voice barely a whisper. You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “This is all I have.” you said quietly. “My parents…” You took a shaky breath, your chest rising and falling erratically. “They died a few years ago. A car accident. It was sudden, and I had no one. No money. No family. Nothing.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly, and a knot formed in her chest. She had suspected you were hiding something from your past, but this…this she hadn’t expected. “I lived on the streets for months.” you continued, your voice cracking. “It was winter. I was lucky to survive at all. But…I knew I couldn’t keep living like that. So I started hacking. Not to hurt anyone, but to survive.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat dry. Hacking to survive. Not to harm. Her hands clenched into fists as your words echoed in her mind. “This warehouse…” You glanced at it briefly before lowering your gaze again. “I hacked it. Bought it illegally. It was the only place I felt safe. Where I didn’t have to be afraid. I didn’t hurt anyone, Natasha. I just…I just wanted to survive.”

Natasha felt her chest tighten as she looked at you your pale face, your pain-filled eyes, and yet you spoke with a calmness that broke her heart even more. She exhaled deeply as your words played over and over in her mind. I cuffed her. I pointed a gun at her. The thought made her heart ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Natasha finally asked, her voice soft but broken. You looked up, your eyes shimmering with tears. “Because I was scared. Scared you wouldn’t understand. That you’d look at me…the way you’re looking at me now.” Natasha stepped back, as though your words had physically struck her. “That’s not how I see you.” she murmured, but her words felt hollow. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. I treated her like a criminal. Like someone I could never trust.

Natasha took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to the cuffs on your wrists. “Let me take these off.” she said softly, moving toward you. But as she approached, you flinched instinctively, your eyes full of fear. “Y/n..” Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. “I won’t hurt you. I…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You shook your head, tears streaming uncontrollably down your face. “You pointed a gun at me..” you whispered. “You treated me like…like a monster.”

Natasha stopped in her tracks, her arms falling to her sides as her heart cracked in two. “I know.” she said quietly, her voice full of guilt. “I know, and I’ll never forgive myself.” The gun she had held earlier now felt like a symbol of all her mistakes. She looked at you, still retreating, your fear a barrier between you. And Natasha couldn’t believe what she had done.

“I…I just wanted to protect you..” Natasha whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “And instead, I hurt you. I didn’t believe you. I…I ruined everything.” You stared at her, your lips trembling, but you said nothing. Natasha slowly raised her hands, showing you her empty palms. “Please. Let me make it right. Let me take the cuffs off.”

It felt like an eternity, but eventually, you nodded hesitantly. Natasha stepped forward carefully, unlocking the cuffs with trembling fingers. As the cuffs fell to the floor with a click, you stepped back, rubbing your sore wrists. “I’m sorry..” Natasha repeated, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to fix this, but…I never wanted to hurt you.” You looked at her, your tear-filled eyes softening slightly, but they still held doubt. “I never wanted to hurt you either..” you whispered. Natasha stood frozen, her arms hanging limply at her sides as you sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. You rubbed your reddened wrists in silence.

Natasha wanted to say something, anything to break the tension. But the guilt weighed her down, and every time she looked at you, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. I betrayed her. I treated the one person I wanted to protect like my enemy. “You..you can sit down if you want.” you said suddenly, your voice quiet and uncertain.

Natasha blinked, as if waking from a dream. “I…” She glanced around before slowly lowering herself onto an old chair near the bed. The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but the air was still heavy with everything unspoken between you. You were the first to smile faintly, though your eyes were still red. “You know.” you began, your voice soft, with a hint of humor, “this isn’t the first time you’ve treated me like a criminal.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What?”

“The café.” you said, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Remember? You looked at me like you wanted to arrest me on the spot.” Natasha felt the corners of her mouth lift into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe because you seemed so suspicious..” she said softly, her tone slightly teasing. You let out a small, shaky laugh, the first in hours, but it sounded fragile, as though it could break at any moment. “Suspicious? I was just trying to help you. You looked at me like I was public enemy number one.”

Natasha shook her head, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “And now I’ve done exactly that. I arrested you.” Your smile faded as you noticed the pain return to her expression. “I’m sorry.” Natasha said suddenly, her voice raw. “I should have trusted you. I should never have treated you that way.” You looked at her, your gaze softening even more, though a trace of caution remained. “You were just doing your job.” you said quietly.

“That’s no excuse.” Natasha replied quickly, her hands balling into fists. “I pointed a gun at you. I cuffed you like you were…” Her voice cracked, and she lowered her gaze. “I hurt you.” You shrugged slightly and gestured to your still-red wrists with a faint smile. “Cuffs. A gun. And an emotional breakdown. Not exactly what I imagined for a date.”

Natasha stared at you, her eyes filled with regret. “I wronged you.” she said quietly. “I didn’t trust you, and I…I treated you like a monster. But you’re not.”You bit your lip, averting your gaze. A part of you felt the weight of her guilt, but you couldn’t ignore that some of what Natasha believed was true. “Maybe I am a monster.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m not innocent. I’m not…who you thought I was.”

“You’re more than you think!” Natasha said immediately, her voice firm. “I’ve seen who you are. Not the person you pretend to be, but the person you truly are.” You wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t. Her words hit you deeply, and you didn’t know if you could accept them. Natasha stood, her movements slow and cautious, as though afraid of pushing you further away. She moved toward the bed and sat beside you, leaving a respectful distance.

“I didn’t want this to end like this..” Natasha said softly. You raised your head, looking at her, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It wasn’t just your fault.” you said quietly. “I…I lied to you too. I’m not innocent.”

“Maybe not.” Natasha said gently. “But that doesn’t change how I feel.” The words hung between you, and your chest tightened. You knew Natasha trusted you..or at least wanted to. But the guilt in your heart grew heavier as you thought about the plan.

Natasha lifted a hand cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. Her movements were slow, almost hesitant, as though she feared you would pull away. “I don’t want to lose you.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. You looked at her, and before you knew it, you leaned forward slightly. Your lips met hers, tentative and uncertain but filled with emotion. Natasha responded, her hands gently cradling your face as though afraid you might break.

But suddenly, you pulled back, your breathing heavy, guilt and fear swirling in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” Natasha asked, her voice laced with concern. You shook your head, your hands trembling. “I…I can’t do this..” you said softly. “Not without telling you the truth.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze softening. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready.” she said gently. “I know you want to trust me. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Her words struck you deeply, and finally, your tears spilled over. I have to keep the plan going, you thought. But what if it costs me everything? The thought weighed heavily on your heart as you realized the stakes of what lay ahead. But in that moment, all you could feel was Natasha’s warmth beside you. Her touch, her presence, and her unwavering belief in who you truly were.

"You don't know what you're saying." you whispered, your voice breaking. "I do." Natasha said softly, lifting your chin so your eyes met hers. "I'm saying I see you-for everything you are. And I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you." You couldn't ignore the guilt and fear clawing at you, but in that moment, all you could feel was Natasha's closeness.

You gazed into her eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance and kissed her again. The kiss was tentative, brimming with unspoken emotions, and Natasha responded immediately, her hands gently resting on your waist. She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours as she took a deep breath. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, her voice full of tenderness but tinged with concern.

You nodded, your eyes shimmering as you answered honestly. "I'm not sure about anything." you said. "But I want...I want to be here. With you." Natasha smiled faintly, a genuine, fragile smile, before she kissed you. This time, her movements were less hesitant, filled with a quiet intensity. Her hands slid gently to your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

The tension between you grew as Natasha's fingers trailed delicately down your back, her touch sending shivers through you. You let yourself sink back onto the mattress, your hands finding their way to Natasha's waist, pulling her closer. "Is this okay?" Natasha asked again, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down at you.

You nodded, your chest rising and falling quickly, and you reached for her hand, guiding it to your side. "Yes.." you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha began slowly, cautiously, her fingers gliding over your sides before gripping the hem of your shirt. She hesitated for a moment, searching your eyes for permission. When you raised your arms to help her, she carefully lifted the fabric over your head and set it aside.

Her gaze roamed your body, but she paused, her fingers brushing gently over your skin. "You're beautiful.." Natasha murmured, her voice shaky but sincere. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you turned your head slightly. "Stop.." you mumbled quietly. "No." Natasha said firmly yet softly, leaning down to press delicate kisses along your neck. "I mean it."

Natasha began to lower herself, her lips trailing soft, lingering kisses across your collarbone. Each touch felt like a spark against your skin, sending shivers through your body. Her hands moved to your sides, steadying you as she continued her path downward. When her lips reached the hem of your pants, she paused, glancing up at you. “Is this okay?” she asked softly, her voice filled with care.

“Yes..” you whispered, your cheeks flushing as you nodded. Natasha took her time, peeling your pants away with deliberate slowness, her fingers grazing your skin as she revealed more of you and this made you squirm slightly, your hands instinctively moving to cover your face. Natasha chuckled softly, reaching up to gently pull your hands away. “Don’t hide from me.” she said, her voice firm but kind. “I want to see you.”

As Natasha moved lower, her lips pressing soft, lingering kisses to your hips and thighs, you felt your body tense, your back arching slightly as the sensations overwhelmed you. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this, so intimate, so consuming, and it was hard to stay still. Her hands pressed you gently but firmly back against the mattress, holding you steady as her lips continued their slow descent. She took her time, her touch unhurried but deliberate, her lips and tongue exploring with a precision that left you breathless.

You couldn’t stop the soft sounds that escaped your lips, your hands moving instinctively to her hair as you tried to ground yourself. Natasha didn’t stop, her movements growing more purposeful as she found the places that made you gasp, that made your body tense in ways you couldn’t control.

“Look at me.” she said softly, her voice steady but firm. You opened your eyes, meeting her gaze, and the intensity in her expression made your breath hitch. Natasha’s movements grew more purposeful, and she smiled faintly as she watched the pleasure overtake you again. Her tongue and lips moved with precision, exploring you with a slowness that made your toes curl. Each sound you made only seemed to spur her on, her grip on your hips tightening slightly as she held you in place.

“N-Natasha..” you gasped, your voice trembling as your back arched instinctively. Her tongue found your most sensitive spot, and you couldn't stop the loud moan that escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively. Natasha chuckled softly, her hands moving to grip your hips and press you back against the mattress. "You're not going anywhere.." she mur-mured, her voice tinged with amusement but filled with desire.

Her words only made the tension in your chest grow, and you couldn’t stop the way your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her closer as the pleasure built higher and higher. When you finally reached your peak, a loud cry escaped your lips, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha didn’t stop, her hands holding you steady as she coaxed you through it, her lips pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh as you came down from the high. “That’s it.” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. “You’re incredible.”

She kissed you softly, slowly, her lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. As she pulled back, her hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against clit. “Still with me?” Natasha whispered, her voice low and steady.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a broken, trembling moan. Natasha stilled for a moment, her gaze flickering down to your lips before returning to your eyes. Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I’ll take that as a yes..” she murmured, her tone carrying a hint of humor, though her voice was thick with desire.

Her words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, and you whimpered, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt. Natasha leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth as her other hand slid lower, her fingers moving with deliberate intent. When her fingers slipped inside you, you couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively off the mattress. Natasha let out a low groan of her own, her gaze flickering downward as her fingers moved deeper.

“God.” she muttered, her voice rough, “you’re so responsive.” and she felt it, the way your walls clenched tightly around her touch. Natasha froze briefly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Oh..” she said, her voice tinged with awe and amusement. “You like this, don’t you? The way I’m talking to you?”

You let out another broken moan in response, your body trembling beneath her. Natasha groaned softly, her jaw tightening as she pressed her forehead against yours. “Say something..” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “Say my name.” But you couldn’t. The pleasure was too much, and all that came out were more desperate, breathless moans. Natasha grinned, her free hand moving to grip your hip and hold you steady as your body squirmed beneath her.

“You’re completely gone..” she whispered, her tone laced with satisfaction. “God, you’re so perfect like this.” Her fingers moved with more purpose now, her thumb brushing against you in a way that made your head spin. Every gasp, every moan that spilled from your lips seemed to affect her just as much as it did you. Natasha’s own breath hitched, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep herself in control.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me..” she admitted, her voice rough. “Hearing you like this, feeling you…God, it’s making me crazy.” She glanced down briefly, her gaze fixating on the way her fingers moved inside you, the way your body responded to her touch. Her lips parted slightly, and she let out a soft, involuntary groan. “You’re so perfect.” she muttered, almost to herself. “Absolutely perfect.”

The intensity of her touch, her voice, the way she looked at you..it was all too much. You felt the pleasure building higher and higher, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath her. Natasha noticed immediately, her hand on your hip tightening as her movements grew more deliberate. “That’s it.” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “Let go for me. Come for me Y/n..”

“F-Fuck..! ”Her words pushed you over the edge, and you cried out, your head tipping back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Natasha groaned softly as she felt your walls clench tightly around her fingers, her forehead dropping to rest against yours. “Good girl..” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she worked you through the climax. “That’s my good girl.”

Her fingers slowed but didn’t stop, her free hand smoothing over your side as she kissed your temple softly. “You’re incredible.” she murmured, her voice filled with awe. “Do you know that?” As you came down from the high, your chest heaving, Natasha didn’t pull away. Her fingers remained inside you, her movements slow and deliberate as she watched your flushed face.

When it was over, her touch soft and soothing as you lay trembling beneath her. She pulled her hand away gently, her gaze flicking back up to your face. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven, but her eyes were filled with warmth and something deeper, something that made your chest tighten. “You’re okay?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing against your cheek.

You nodded, though your breath was still shaky, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. Natasha smiled faintly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. You buried your face in her shoulder, your body still trembling as her arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “I…I didn’t know it could feel like that.” you admitted softly, your voice muffled against her skin. Natasha chuckled, her fingers brushing through your hair as she held you tightly. “You deserve to feel like this.” she said firmly. “And I’ll make sure you do. Every single time.”

Her words made your chest ache, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I…I don’t know what to say,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything,” Natasha replied, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “Just let me hold you..”

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha smut #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanov smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months ago

Note

I know you've probably gotten a lot of requests for PRESSURE, but hear me out? Reader X Anglers (platonic), where reader was sent to work in the Hadal Blacksite. Urbanshade was Reader's only chance at a job due to circumstance and they were desperate; they weren't aware what they were getting into UNTIL Urbanshade had signed them up. Now a "handler" of these mutant fish, the least they can do is lessen their misery... Until the Saboteur let's everything aggressive loose.

YAY! Angler request thank you. As annoying as those fish(?) are I think they're very underrated

(in case this needs to be reiterated, this is all PLATONIC)

......

Being desperate for a job and willing to pretty much do whatever it took to get hired anywhere, Urbanshade was the only one willing to offer you an immediate position.

However, you had to be sworn to secrecy and go through an extensive background check and other trials....just for them to transport you to the Hadal Blacksite, where they said you'll be informed of your duties.

Given the extensive security measures already in place, you assumed you were dealing with endangered sea life--or even extinct species Urbanshade revived or rediscovered.

Then you were sent to the heavy containment sector and saw what they were actually hiding down here:

A mutant angler fish--one pink and one grey--a viperfish, a frog with razor sharp teeth, and a dead(?) green blobfish. They were all huge and unlike anything you've seen before.

They were all designated as Z-283, although there were nicknames given to four of them: Pinkie, Blitz, Froger, and Chainsmoker.

The Angler was just, well, Angler.

You didn't know what kind of aquatic rehabilitation facility this was, but they didn't even look like fish that belonged in one, especially as their tanks didn't contain any water, although according to documents, that wasn't even necessary.

Smoke clouded every part of their bodies except their faces, so you couldn't get a good read on how their fins and tails are holding up (assuming they have those at all).

Least to say...it took some time getting used to seeing their frightening looks every shift.

Especially as sometimes Angler, Blitz, and Pinkie liked to scare the hell out of you by shrieking, ramming into the window barriers of their cells, and causing brief power surges.

Your main tasks were to monitor them and keep them fed and happy, although you weren't allowed to make physical contact with them.

Apparently their touch can kill...so you can understand why they needed somebody to watch them at all times and keep their behaviors in check.

But the more you interact with them, the more you start to realize that these anglers (and viperfish, frog, and blobfish) were probably just animals who were simply trying to live within the Let-Vand Zone, only to be taken and shoved into a distressing environment.

Urbanshade claims they aren't "alive", but all you see are scared animals who only knew misery.

You especially didn't like overhearing that they've used prisoners as test subjects. And they're not even food.

Out of water, they can all recognize you by scent and are seemingly aware of how good you've been to them compared to most operatives.

Because when Sebastian/The Saboteur sets them loose and causes the lockdown, and you nearly get killed by one of the many Wall Dwellers...Angler comes to your defense, eating its flesh whole.

At first you think you've finally tamed it--until the fish creature gives you that same murderous and hungry look as it gave those test subjects.

Luckily it gives you a head start and you manage to find a crawlspace out of its line of sight, watching it cause chaos and kill whatever poor sap happened to run into that same room.

Yeah...your job definitely didn't quite prepare you for this kind of scenario..

When the Expendable Protocol is initiated, Sebastian found you and only allowed you live because you could keep the anglers off his back while he's trying to find supplies and figure out how to escape.

They'll listen to you sometimes, although you learn Pinkie and Blitz are very brash and like to do their own things sometimes--while Froger and Chainsmoker are more willing to obey.

But if Pandemonium ever caught sight of you?

May god help you because none of them will.

#clanask #anonymous #roblox x reader #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #pressure angler #pressure z383 #platonic #headcanons

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justinspoliticalcorner · 9 days ago

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Jennifer Rubin at The Contrarian:

Are we in a “constitutional crisis”? You have likely heard that question innumerable times over the past three months, followed by a discussion as to whether our president has actually, explicitly, openly violated a court order (make that a Supreme Court order). When a question is so pervasive, it is safe to assume that yes, we are already there. When does the combo of authoritarian bullying, revenge seeking, stooge-nominating, retaliatory prosecuting, contemptuous litigating, and lawless usurpation of congressional power become a “crisis”? The word is defined by Merriam-Webster as “an unstable or crucial time or state of affairs in which a decisive change is impending…especially one with the distinct possibility of a highly undesirable outcome.” Frankly, we have been in that “crisis” since the first day of the Trump presidency.

When a Republican Congress allows the president to seize the power of the purse and does nothing, when the secretary of defense commits the worst breach of national security protocols in memory (and evidently doesn’t learn his lesson), or when Republicans refuse to reclaim the power to lay tariffs—despite a recession-inducing presidential trade war—the question is not if we are in a constitutional crisis, but just how bad it is. For Kilmar Ábrego García, Rümeysa Öztürk, Mahmoud Khalil, Mohsen Mahdawi, and scores of others who are legally present in the United States have been snatched up, incarcerated (or are facing incarceration) in a foreign gulag, and are deprived of their right to contest their confinement and visa revocation, the “constitutional crisis” is well underway. When the Supreme Court convenes “literally in the middle of the night” to stop the government from spiriting away Venezuelans in apparent contradiction of their instruction to give every individual a meaningful opportunity to oppose their deportation, the “constitutional crisis” has arrived.

Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.) knows a constitutional crisis. When asked explicitly whether we were in one on Meet the Press, he affirmed, “Yes, we are.” He had to fly down to El Salvador to see for himself Ábrego García’s condition, and upon his return, called out the president and his flacks for abject lies, even revealing the clumsy attempt to stage a scene suggesting he and Kilmar were tossing down margaritas on a tropical holiday. When such steps are required to confirm whether or not a lawful American resident is alive, we know this is not only the least trustworthy White House in modern history, but one seemingly eager to foment a constitutional crisis.

[...]

For the thousands of government workers fired, the law firms and universities bullied, the millions of Americans harmed by illegal cuts and firings, the charitable organizations living under the cloud of a possible IRS dragnet, and the former Trump officials and assorted Trump nemeses targeted for persecution, the “constitutional crisis” is here. When Trump betrays Ukraine, cozies up to the evil aggressor Russia, wrecks the international trading system, stokes inflation, and sends us hurling into a recession, that crisis extends beyond the Constitution. [...]

Media, politicians, activists, and courts must stop waiting for a checkered flag to start responding. We need every person, every officeholder, and every facet of society to tell Trump: “NO.” No obeying in advance, No bullying, No court defiance, No executive overreach, No betrayal of allies, and No gaslighting. Then, voters must defeat any MAGA enablers, henchmen, and cowering politicians who are encouraging or complicit in these unprecedented assaults on our democracy. And when Democrats (because, let’s be honest: there is no critical mass of Republicans prepared to return to democratic norms) regain power, they will need to rebuild government and erect a series of reforms (e.g., Supreme Court term limits or expansion; serious civil and criminal penalties for abrogating others’ constitutional rights or blocking congressionally appropriated funds; bright red lines on private citizens assuming governmental powers; complete divestiture of presidents’ business interests while in office) to secure our democracy.

Jennifer Rubin wrote a solid column on why Americans should stop waiting for a formal declaration of a constitutional crisis, as we’re already in one.

#Jennifer Rubin #The Contrarian #Constitutional Crisis #Donald Trump #Trump Regime

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sleepybbywrites · 1 month ago

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Happy Little Omega Farms (1) 18+

a/n: this is reposted! I am however the original author, my other tumblr was just casually deleted by tumblr smile

summary: reader is an omega. the avengers pack needs an omega. the pack leaders of the avengers arrive at hlof to see if they can find the perfect fit, will it be reader?

warnings: alpha/omegaverse, this chapter doesn't have too much but definitely mentions some adult things

pairings: this will eventually be avengers x reader, this chapter however has tony x reader and steve x reader

word count: 1.9k~

MASTERLIST (wip) | HLOF MASTERLIST/INFO

Happy Little Omega Farms was the biggest Omega sanctuary in the world. Which sounded extravagant and massive, but considering they only housed roughly 100 omegas (which was 95% of known remaining omegas), it was still a fairly small organization. Security however, was very tight. Protocols were in place to ensure the safety of omegas and some even worried that some of the omegas were purposefully unaccounted for in a secret attempt to create more omegas. Whatever the case may have been, HLOF was the best bet for the Avengers to find their pack an omega. The Avengers might have been a group of some of the most elite minds, but they were also still just as affected by the Omega shortage as every other pack.

Which was how Steve Rogers and Tony Stark ended up sitting in the small waiting room. Well, Steve was sitting. Tony was standing, one hand on his hip while he spoke to the poor unsuspecting beta behind the counter, ranting about how they were prestigious guests, they shouldn’t be required to wait, blah blah blah. Steve had tuned it out within the first minute of him opening his mouth. Steve sat quietly, his large frame dwarfing the small chair he was seated in. He had a tablet in his hand and he was reading through information about some of the ‘adoptable’ omegas in their database. It felt weird, looking over these little profiles about the omegas, he felt like he was shopping instead of trying to get an idea of which omega might best work for their pack of superheroes.

A different beta worker approached him, leaning forwards over the tablet. “If there are any that you’d like to meet while you’re here today, just click the little heart next to their picture.” The beta gave him a warm smile and he could feel the effects of their beta scent soothing his nerves ever so slightly. He gave them a small nervous smile in return and thanked them, returning to the top. Tony had apparently given up on trying to get them special privileges as he plopped down in the seat beside Steve with a loud huff.

“Anyone interesting?” he asked the blonde. Steve’s brows furrowed at his words and he cast him a quick sidelong glance before he sighed softly. “It just feels weird.. I mean what if I skip over someone and they’d be perfect for us?” he asked, reading over another blurb of information about the first omega. Tony took the tablet from him and began clicking the heart on every single one of them, until they had hearted all thirty currently available omegas. Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess that’s one way to do it..” You had been sitting on one of the benches outside, seated next to two very chatty omegas who were talking about– you tuned back into the conversation for a moment– dildos. Maybe it was time to go back inside. You rose to your feet, not even getting a glance from the two you’d been sitting with as you made your way back into the little side door to the sanctuary. As soon as you walked in you were hit with a cloud of nervous scents coming from absolutely everywhere. Almost as if on cue, the little bracelet on your wrist buzzed, lighting up a little heart indicator. You were chosen for consideration. Apparently, whatever prestigious alphas were visiting had selected not only you but also every other eligible omega in the sanctuary, which very easily explained all the panicked and nervous scents. You made it back to your room and rifled through your clothes. You weren’t not nervous but the idea of meeting with some rich alphas didn’t rile you up the same way it seemed to with the other twenty-nine omegas chosen. After stressing over your options for a lot longer than you felt you should have, you settled on a pair of light colored jeans, light blue converse and a matching light blue sweater. Now you just had to wait until your bracelet lit up once more.

Each ten minute session with the omegas seemed to fade into the next and eventually Steve just sat still in the room while letting Tony take the lead. Damn extroverts. He listened to the omegas talk about themselves, about the kinds of things they hoped for from a pack. Each one of them seemed to be cut off abruptly at some point or another by Tony and Steve just watched from the sidelines, unsure of what had prompted him to send them off in the first place. Tony was good at this, at figuring people out, so Steve felt strangely comfortable with letting him decide to shoo off the current omega and let the next one join them.

It had been almost five hours by the time they’d made it to the final omega on the list, the one that had been eligible but unadopted the longest. Tony had pushed his sleeves up to his elbows by this point, his jacket thrown over one of the chairs. Steve could smell the frustration on his scent, obviously displeased by every other omega they’d met that day. Steve thought they had all seemed nice and he could have easily pictured himself with any of them, but it wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t even about just him and Tony, it was about the entire team. Steve found himself sighing softly just before the door opened one last time.

You stepped into the small meeting room and your eyebrows rose at the sight before you. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. These were the prestigious alphas that had rejected the other twenty-nine omegas? You were done for. You offered a small, slightly uneasy smile as you walked in. You missed the way Steve seemed to perk up slightly, but you didn’t miss the way Tony’s scent morphed, from one of frustration to a slightly softer scent. You introduced yourself and like the good little omega you were trained to be, you allowed them both to smell the slightly fainter scent glands in your wrist. Steve’s hands were massive compared to your own as he gently held your wrist up to his nose. His eyes shut and just as quickly as he’d let go of you, Tony had your wrist in his hand, inhaling your scent deeply.

It had been a long time since you’d noticed Alpha’s scenting aroused from you. The combined scent of both of them at once was almost overwhelming and you had to sit down to keep your knees from buckling from beneath you.

Tony stared at you across the small table, even from where you were seated you could see the way his pupils had dilated, swallowing almost the entirety of his deep brown irises. Despite Steve not having done much of the talking, he was the first to actually speak to you. “So.. what kind of pack are you hoping for?” His question was one that almost every alpha asked and you took in a slow breath, knowing your answer would most likely cause you to be sent out early, just like most of the other omega’s they'd spoken to today.

“I’m looking for a pack that will treat me as more than just a weak omega.” you said the words and lifted your head in an almost defiant manner. Steve looked over at Tony who was grinning. Something about the grin made your heart begin to race and the billionaire’s scent began to grow more and more intense. Steve rose to his feet, clamping a hand over the other man’s scent gland with a low growl.

“You’re overwhelming her.” he growled into Tony’s ear. The shorter man cleared his throat and straightened his tie, yanking a scent block stick from his pocket, aggressively rubbing it over his scent glands, shaking his head with a laugh. Steve seemed pleased with this but didn’t sit back down. His eyes found yours and he nodded, something that surprised you. “I think that’s an entirely fair request. Do you have a certain personality type or two that you’re less inclined to respond to?” he asked, brows pinching together in thought as he awaited your response.

You swallowed nervously, you didn’t usually get past the first question in interviews. Your eyes met with the man’s deep blue eyes, his own pupils a bit more blown now, though his scent remained a steady constant. “Just alphas that think omega’s are only fuck toys.” the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them and you felt your pulse race, cheeks flushing as you imagined them getting offended and tossing you out. The men cast each other a glance and you shrank back into your seat, waiting for the inevitable.

“It’s starting to make sense why you’ve been here so long.” Tony’s reply was blunt and you couldn’t help but wince slightly. Steve elbowed him in the ribs and there was a small exchange of low growls between the two Alphas but Tony cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. You looked up at him, expecting to be told off. However he simply crouched down in front of you. You could see the way his eyes dilated once more as he caught onto your scent and he tutted softly. “Hey, I didn’t mean that as a slight against you. I meant that Alphas are idiots and usually just think with their dicks rather than their brains.” His hand came up and gently cupped your chin in his hand. “I think you might be just what we’ve been looking for..”

You felt like the air had been pulled from your lungs. You’d been stuck in this stupid sanctuary for so long, meeting so many alphas that would rather ignore you and take home whatever omega was willing to bend over and let them fuck them senseless that the idea that you might be chosen was almost unbelievable. Your eyes roamed over Tony’s face slowly before you looked over at Steve whose expression was soft. Tony rose to his feet and he walked over to the door, knocking to get the attention of one of the workers. Once the door opened he began talking about another meeting, about bringing the entirety of his pack to meet with you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, making his words fade away. You almost didn’t notice when Steve crouched down in front of you this time, taking one of your hands in both of his.

You looked down at the way his hands engulfed your own, his hands were rough and calloused but so incredibly gentle. You had to remind yourself that this man was an alpha. Not just an alpha either, he was an avenger, a superhero. And he wanted you? They both did? Your head turned slightly to look over at Tony speaking with one of the workers of the sanctuary, both tapping over tablets and talking dates, times, expectations. Your gaze drifted back to the man in front of you and he gave you a smile. “I really hope you’re what we’ve been looking for..” his voice was soft and part of you found yourself wanting to lean forwards, to burrow into the massive expanse of his chest and just disappear. But you held back, you’d only just met him and you were much more than just a submissive little omega.

“I hope so too..”

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x you #avengers x you #tony stark x you #alpha!steve rogers #alpha!tony stark #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #sleepywrites #HLOF

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secondarysefikura · 2 months ago

Note

Miniroth reading a combat manual, comes across the word crowdcontrol, promptly reads it as cloudcontrol and thinks ''bet'' while recruit Cloud is standing a few feet away with a suspiciously Sephi-shaped shadow looming over him

Later, Sephiroth is pulled aside and admonished for harassing some poor trooper.

Lazard: So let me get this straight, you cornered a trooper in a closet and then barricaded the door to trap him in there.

Sephiroth: Correct, director.

Lazard: You then paid Second Class Fair to guard the barricaded door.

Sephiroth: Yes. I gave him 100 gil.

Lazard: And then you stood at the entrance of the hallway and denied entry to anyone you deemed "suspicious."

Sephiroth: Correct.

Lazard, putting his head in his hands: What were you thinking?!?!

Sephiroth, whose book on crowd-control told him to barricade the area, hire security, and control entry: I was merely following recommended protocol for Cloud control.

Lazard: What protocol?

Sephiroth: *shows Lazard the book and the section on crowd control*

Lazard: Oh for goodness sake-

Sephiroth: Can I go now? Zack told me he could only guard the closet until 3pm and I need to ensure Cloud's location is still secure.

Lazard, losing his shit: HE'S STILL IN THE CLOSET?

Meanwhile Cloud is on hour 6 of being trapped in a closet and he's really starting to worry that he might just have to call this place home from now on.

#sephiroth #cloud strife #zack fair #lazard deusericus #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy vii #ff7 crisis core #crisis core

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she-who-paints-with-fire · 5 months ago

Text

AFTERMATH

"They're gonna call this the Thirty Hour War, you know."

First Of Ten Thousand Blades lilted slightly, flat head swiveling as it surveyed the wreckage that called itself a battlefield. Beside her, In Eternal Memory shifted uneasily, charge-blades retracted but metal muscles undoubtedly coiled like a snake's.

"Was it even thirty hours? Felt like less."

"From war declaration to death? Probably about twenty to thirty."

"Huh. Been one hell of a cycle, then."

Dawn Always Comes landed beside the pair with its customary SSC-imbued angellic grace, metal singing like a choir of servomotors. Within the pilot's seat, Lux grimaced at the carnage before her.

"This is a charnel house," she observed.

"No kidding," Protector agreed. "Thank Christ-the-Buddha that Albatross was on hand."

"IFF tag located," Observer reported, piercing straight to the point as always. Team Poirun's sniper had never been one for pleasantries. "Marking on HUD."

The entire team glanced to the point that their sharpshooter had marked. Protector whistled; Karateka stared.

"Looks like the Mercenary Queen met her match," Jadwiga murmured, wincing slightly behind the controls of her Tortuga as she saw the wreckage. "Jadwiga to Highground."

"Highground receiving."

"Mercenary Queen is confirmed dead. Moving on to secondary objectives."

"Copy all. Secure an LZ and I'll pick everyone up."

"Ma'am."

First Of Eighteen Thousand Blades tightened its alloy-metal fingers around its shotgun. "Protector, Observer, start counting bodies. Karateka, you're with me to secure the captured mercenaries. Everyone, stay alert, fingers on triggers. We don't know who's left out here."

"Copy," Lux answered. Observer didn't reply; Protector simply nodded a quick acknowledgement.

In Eternal Memory moved first, heavy metal feet shifting and lifting. Observer's tiny, half-shrouded form slipped back down into the cockpit of Clouded Looking Glass and began to slowly stride away, six camouflaged legs shifting and skittering. First Of Eighteen Thousand Blades lifted a boot from the mud and began to march towards the rendezvous point; Dawn Always Comes followed close behind, moving with the grace of a living being.

They moved in silence, for a time.

Dawn Always Comes was mounted with a TLALOC clone named Sacred Symbol. She and Lux had chosen the name together when they'd first met, on the rationale that Lux had gotten to choose her name, so why shouldn't her copilot? From that day on, the two had formed a bond—not quite inseparable, but certainly good friends.

Sacred Symbol chose to speak up when Dawn Always Comes was within sight of the detained monarchists.

"What are we going to do with them?"

It was an understandable question; the Utopian Pillars forbode simply sticking them in a cell, but doing nothing would cost lives.

"We're just here to secure them. After that, we'll send them higher up the chain for sentencing."

They'd done this in the past, after raiding flash-cloning clinics and taking prisoners of war.

"What then?"

"Then... I don't know." Lux would've shrugged, if she wasn't neurally linked with her mech. "They probably get their licenses stripped and wind up back as civilians, probably under some sort of watch."

"That seems like it's rife for abuse."

It did, but was imprisonment really a better way? Lux didn't know. She chose to keep her response simple.

"Utopia is a verb."

It was a non-answer, and she knew that, but she didn't have a better one.

She stopped just behind Jadwiga, in front of the small crowd of detainees and a pair of badly damaged mechs.

"Three letters signal my distress," Jadwiga offered, as was protocol.

"Transmitted in the name of the wounded," came the countersign.

Jadwiga slipped out of and down from her mech. Karateka joined her, shrugging off the neural link and feeling her skin change to flesh instead of metal. Sacred Symbol remained in control of Dawn Always Comes.

"Jadwiga to Highground. Identities verified. LZ is as follows...

#doj/hrposting #lancer rpg #lancer ttrpg #lancerrpg #lancer #lancer rp #oc rp

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

Text

Dozens of Consumer Finance Protection Bureau employees were terminated on Tuesday evening, sources tell WIRED.

The cuts largely targeted contractors and so-called probationary employees, workers who have served less than two years at the agency. Sources tell WIRED that the CFPB’s enforcement division was hit hard, but it’s unclear how many employees were let go.

Workers were informed that they had been fired with a frenetic email delivered around 9pm ET on Tuesday night. An evidently failed mail merge meant that some affected employees were addressed as [EmployeeFirstName][EmployeeLastName], [Job Title], [Division].

“This is to provide notification that I am removing you from your position of [Job Title] and federal service consistent with the above references,” the email from acting chief human capital officer Adam Martinez says. “Unfortunately, the Agency finds that that [sic] you are not fit for continued employment because your ability, knowledge and skills do not fit the Agency’s current needs.”

The firings follow a tumultuous few days at CFPB. On Friday, staff for Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency shut down a portion of the agency’s homepage after a day of struggling to obtain access to the CMS and other systems. WIRED reported last week that three DOGE staffers, including Gavin Kliger and Nikhil Rajpal were given access to CFPB’s HR, procurement, and financial infrastructure. The DOGE workers were later granted access to all of the agency’s systems on Friday, Bloomberg reported this week, including bank examination and enforcement records.

Later on Friday evening, Russell Vought—Trump’s newly confirmed director of the Office of Management and Budget—took over as the acting administrator for CFPB late Friday evening, as first reported by The Wall Street Journal. Soon after, DOGE staff began sending out email requests asking CFPB managers to give Kliger additional access to agency systems, including physical access control system, payroll processing systems, and the ability to edit the CFPB’s website, sources tell WIRED.

Just before 10:30pm ET on Friday, sources say someone who appeared to have administrative privileges, accessed the agency server using Secure Shell (SSH), a protocol that allows remote control of a computer over a network. Bypassing the content management system, they [unpublished] the homepage file, causing a portion of the CFPB homepage to display a “404: Page not found”, notice typical of a website that has been deleted or is otherwise missing. The remainder of the site was functional, including submission forms for industry whistleblowers and consumer complaints.

Around 11pm on Friday, the CFPB’s X account disappeared and shortly after, according to a CFPB staffer, DOGE left the building.

CFPB sources who spoke to WIRED described being blindsided by the DOGE staffers. "They said they would follow protocol but repeatedly did not," one says, noting that the level of access these staffers have could allow them to lock others out of the building, take down the website, and “obstruct the bureau’s ability to carry out its mandate.”

One source at CFPB on Friday says they saw two young DOGE staffers wandering through the halls of the building trying to open doors.

“DOGE pulled a Darth Vader in cloud city where they came in promising to respect our rules and ask for read access and then tonight [Friday] at 6 they took a heel turn and demanded website access,” another CFPB source told WIRED at the time.

In a pair of emails sent Saturday and Monday, Vought effectively ordered all work at the agency to stop, freezing various enforcement efforts and work on regulations that would affect payment programs run by Big Tech companies.

The CFPB has long been a target of both Elon Musk and conservatives more broadly; the Project 2025 chapter on financial regulatory agencies describes it as “a highly politicized, damaging, and utterly unaccountable federal agency” and calls to have it abolished. Musk wrote “RIP CFPB” with a gravestone emoji in an X post Friday afternoon. Last November, he posted “Delete CFPB.” There are around 1,700 employees in total at the agency.

The CFPB was established by the 2010 Dodd-Frank Act, a sweeping piece of legislation that imposed significant regulatory reform in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. Its remit is to protect consumers from unfair or deceptive financial practices, and the agency claims to be responsible for $19.7 billion in consumer relief since its inception, as well as $5 billion in civil penalties.

Some of those wins have come against payment processors including Block, which was ordered to pay a total of $175 million in penalties last month for allegedly failing to sufficiently protect users of its Cash App from fraud. CFPB also has an active lawsuit against JPMorgan Chase, Bank of America, and Wells Fargo for similar alleged failures on their shared payment app Zelle. Elon Musk will soon be in the peer-to-peer payments business as well, after X entered a partnership with Visa in late January.

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keelt9 · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 10

Masterlist

The headlines altern each day. After winning the competition just for 2 points the next two months I receive praises, good wishes along with sharp comments, inquisitive words and a lot of questions.

We just traveled to Madrid for another one, Olivia and one of the boys already had their ticket for the Olympic Games; in this competition, Charlotte and Matt expect to have theirs.

And, one more time for a surprise, Matt and I will be searching for the qualifier.

“Are you nervous?” Olivia asked, sitting next to me in the plane, still her eyes closed.

These months a lot of things have changed between Max and I; the video calls were oddly still we keep in contact for a constant chat. Knowing he has two weeks off, I asked him to please come and he agreed right away.

“Happy.” I smile and close my eyes for sleep. “Really happy.”

The week passes in an intense movement, going from one side to the other, practice and getting ready with windy weather. I expect Max and Charles come, I invited him because among all the drivers he’s turning in a good friend; I also invited Anton but he said it has a lot of patients in waiting line and it will be impossible to come but he is clear his agenda for coming to the first competition of the next year, and of course all my family is already here.

<You have this!> It's my morning text before I start to prepare along with a photo of him wearing the customized cap Mia sent him, same as mine but instead of the fish she changed it for a small red heart.

My first competition it's for the individual pre qualifier. If I win this, it isn't just a gold medal, it is to secure my position in the first round of the qualifier, next year.

The strong winds make it hard to keep the bow steady, in a second the right spot could be already gone.

“Ok, you got it, strong and stable.” Liam talked softly to me after a shoot.

I stole a glance to the terraces but I didn’t get a full view of everyone. The sound of the keyring against the chest guard reminds me he is there somewhere in the crowd.

The light on the score announces the final score. 39 - 36.

<Y/N won the gold and secured her position in the first round for the Olympics. WHAT A DAY!> I scream and Liam raises me, it's the first medal, the first after two years fighting.

With tears in my eyes and huge smiles on people's faces as they give flowers with the gold medal hanging on my neck I look for Max in the crowd as the ceremony concludes. After all the protocols finished I met with friends and family, all so happy for my win.

“Congratulations Y/N, totally deserved.” Charles hugs me, but the absence of Max with him starts to worry me.

“Where is Max?” Charles looked at Alexandra but she smiled at me, sadly.

“Oh, he… He… Am, couldn't come. He was stuck on something and he… well he…” I feel a knot on my throat.

“He couldn't come?” Max said he was here. “He wasn't here?”

Charles shook his head, pressing his lips together. “I'm sorry.”

I look for my cell phone expecting to find missing calls or a text that helps me to understand, but nothing on the screen, just the photo of Max we took wearing his race suit as he lifts me from the floor after winning.

“Sweetheart.” Dad calls me after seeing my rushing movements, My family expects to meet him, Mom jokes about dad promising her he will behave. “Y/N…”

Max knew how important this is for me, he knows.

“I just…” Mia surrounds me with her arms at the level of my waist. “He knows, right?” I feel everyone's eyes on me. “He never dumped me.” I whisper, the tears cloud my vision.

Liam knows what to do, so he took my cell phone from me during the day, for I keep focus on what I have to do. Tomorrow Matt and I will be looking for the qualifier in couples, there is not a second chance, not for this.

“Promise me you will try to be ok?” Liam holds the phone before giving it to me in the door of my hotel room.

“He called?” It's the only thing I need to know.

“A couple of times.” Liam answered honestly. “He must have a reason, call him.” He gently squeezed my shoulder. “But, rest, ok?”

Max was expecting because at the first beep, he answered right away.

“I don't even know what to say.” And the truth is I don't have any words either. “The sponsors changed all at the last minute, I don't tell you anything because I don't want you to be nervous or anything at all, I'm so sorry.”

It’s one of those moments where you're deeply drained that any tears roll.

“It's an important days Max. At least I would like to know from you. I'm hurt and confused.” I take a deep breath, right now and with a qualifying tomorrow, this is the least thing I need.

“Y/N… Shit I'm sorry, I get suddenly stuck and I…” My dad’s words came like a bullet to my mind.

“Max, I hate myself for telling you this but, I know your career is important so mine…” He tried to talk but I kept talking. “I need to know I count on you in crucial moments, that you know you can tell me anything…” Suddenly I have a river of words in my head but none refuse to come from my mouth. “And now, I'm not feeling you with me.”

He didn't speak. “I need to sleep, I'll talk to you when this is over.” I said as I pressed the red button.

<Struggle, that’s how we can describe this first round. Yesterday she looks strong but now, this is going down to a cliff if they don’t recover on time.>

I barely hit the 8 two times making an abysmal difference of points between the other team and us.

“Y/N. I need you here.” The words of Matty, the sound of his voice and his eyes begging it's something I have never heard and seen before. “Please, just today. Please.”

The bell for us to take our position one more time combined with his big eyes cause an awful feeling in my chest.

<Don't let anyone make you abandon your dream.>

Matt shot first, 9; before I took position I took a look at the terraces and I saw my family, the girls soft smiles and thumbs up.

I’m so close to my dream.

“It’s good Matt.” I say in a low voice after stop feeling the wind blow, he takes a couple of seconds and releases, 10.

He smiles and we bump the side of our hands, with that 10, the difference is for 2 points, but the girl on the other side made a good shot and reduced it, one more time.

“You have this.” Matt says, all above 9 give us the golden ticket.

My hands start to tremble, I take out all the air in my lungs before raising the bow. “It’s ok, steady.” Matt said as I looked for the right spot, and for the first time in all the competition I didn't think too much and let it go when I found the perfect spot.

The score light in 9 but with a smile asterisk at the side, it will be for a review. If the judges consider it’s inside of 10 or it keeps the 9. Liam gets down his hands for we take it with calm; the slowest 10 seconds, they analyze and give the verdict.

Matt surrounds my shoulders with his arms, then the score lights, 10. I could avoid screaming and hugging him, we have the ticket for the Olympics.

“Omg, thank you, thank you Y/N.” Matt keeps whispering at me as he hugs me tighter. “Thank you so much.”

We split and he has tears in his eyes and that glow when he feels utterly happy. The dream of two small kids who spent days training as they lost hanging out with friends, parties and trips. Being in pain late at night but waking up to try again, now becomes a reality. Liam goes and hugs in two in one, repenting how proud is from us. I bet in that moment as us he didn’t see two adults, he saw those two little kids who took under his wings, years ago.

When we split we see our families and the team scream at us and clapping; their throats will be sore tomorrow.

Late at night when all the archers and coaches were in a dinner organized by the different federations. The ambience is calm and cheerful, it's the last competition of the year, and a lot of them will be out for the next event, a small tournament for fundraiser for the huge events of next year.

“It’s great. I’m look at you, you look dangerous.” A guy we met from years ago, Arthur, congratulated us.

Matt and I smiled at each other, then Robert touched my arm so I went with him. “Sorry, you have a call.” I narrow my eyes. “In the reception, is Max.”

I deliberately avoided Max’s call, I replay his congratulation message but that’s all. I’m mad and I’m afraid things could go out of control.

“Oh, thanks… I…” Robert presses his lips together.

“I could tell them, you’re busy.” I shake my head, but also I don’t want this start to turn in something surly and full of friction.

“So the rumors are true.” Olivia entered with her bow ready. “All these weeks you've been arriving at what? 3 of the morning.”

Trying to clear my head, I arrive early in the morning, do some exercise, go out for my run and come back when the team is here for practice.

I scoff putting the bands on the floor. “Are you all right?” Olivia asks, watching me closely. “Y/N we’re more than a team, you know that.” I see her straight to her eyes. “We’re family.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” My voice cut, and then I told her everything.

My confusion about my relationship with Max. I love him, I know that and I have been able to deal and accept all that surrenders us, but maybe I accept too much. The noise of the media has been around the fact Max wasn’t able to go to my competition; beside they saw Charles, my absences from the races; put pressure on me before and with our last “talk” all increased.

I thought I was dealing with that but the truth is I just let it pass, but after the small crisis in the middle of the competition and saw how Matthew looked at me the glass spilled.

Matt never begged me to keep focus because he knows I put my mind and body where they must be but that day all my thoughts were with Max and realizing the lack of communication we had. Those eyes with the way Robert sees me on a big night and the relief of Anna and William when they congratulate for winning, like they already expect a failure, start to make them stay awake at night.

“Maybe my dad was right, and that terrifies me, understand for a second I am starting to put my dreams aside.” We were sitting cross-legged on the floor. “I don’t blame Max, it’s impossible… It’s me, I can’t handle it all and it's begging to consume me.”

Olivia grabs my hand. “You know, once I heard that the biggest act of love is letting go; not because of an act of cowardice just because you know being together is hurting each other more than giving you peace and calm.”

I sniff my nose, the tears start to roll. “Whatever you decide, you and only you know what is the best for you.” She hugged me patting my back, that was enough for me to cry in a river with her, it took me a while to calm down.

“Ok, ok, let’s begin this!” By the time Charlotte and everyone arrives, my eyes just were a little swollen but I already calm. After this week of practice we will have a free week and then we go back training with a little bit more intensity.

We practice for 7 hours until we run out of batteries. “Do you know where you are going?” Marie Anne gave us a bottle of water, one by one telling her, when it was my turn. “Y/N?”

“Monaco.” Matt knows what is coming for the way he nods.

The weather is not with me, it’s cold, really cold, I felt my hands as ice even though I have gloves and I keep my coat stuck to my body.

“OMG, Y/N?” Lando was scared when he saw me sitting in the door of Max’s house. “What are you doing here?! It’s freezing.” I stand but he is already calling Max “scolding” him.

He finished the call, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry, he took Sissy and Jimmy to the vet but he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“He didn't know I’m coming, it's fine.” Lando saw something in me that made him shutter his next question.

“Do you need…?” I shake my head, faking a smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

Max arrives running with a probably dizzy Sassy and Jimmy to be shaken by their owner. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.” He opened the door and let them walk in the house. “Thanks Landon.”

Lando waits with me until Max arrives but realizing something linger above us. Even though he tried not to mention the competition that everyone knows Max was missing, he congratulated me and wished me the best.

“It’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll tell Charles you’re busy today.” He lifts his bag and paddle racket, Max just presses his lips together and I get inside of his house.

“Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll take a shower and I’ll take you for dinner or we can order something, wh…” Max starts to practically run to the stairs.

“Max. We need to talk.” Max stops dry. It’s hard to recognize the moment we’re about to get through.

“Please don’t say it.” He gets down his head. “Just…Please.” I grip my coat to avoid going and hug him, seeing a worried expression in his face. ”We…we’ll figure out, like always, just, please.”

Sassy walk and rub against my leg, making me close my eyes and bite my lip before talking. “I want to stop. I’m so sorry.”

Max turns around and walks faster to where I am but I take a step back, touching him will make me crumble. It’s been months since we saw each other face to face and touched each other, it could make me regret my words.

“I’ll try, I really try but I don’t want this to hurt you, hurt me… Hurt us.” I wipe the tears. “I hate feeling the way I felt when you don’t come, the anger to you, the deception, the broken heart.” He tried to speak but I raised my hands. “I know, believe I know and I understand this is part of what you do and what you are. I wouldn't change a little single thing about you.” I fake a smile even though my throat is closing. “And I don’t want you to change just because you think that’s what I need.”

“Y/N, I… I’m not changing anything about who I am, believe me I just, I just need to make some adjustments and try, we can keep trying, that's what we do.” The step he takes, I take it back.

“I almost let down one of the most important persons in my life, just because I wasn't able to be in the moment I needed to be… I almost let my dreams fade away, because I was too worried about what I could say wrong, what I could do wrong and what changed between us.”

Max shakes his head, it’s a low hit but he won’t let me go. “I have a big year coming, and I need to know you’ll be there when you say you will.”

He opens and closes his mouth. Thankfully his cellphone in the table beside us lights on. “Fuck!” Max whispers, it’s the Red Bull Team.

“See?” Max turn it off. “Can I count on you not to go in the middle of one of my competitions? That you won’t dump me on an important day? That you will tell me anything at any moment?”

Max remains silent, breaking my heart. “I think that too.” I pet Sassy and Jimmy. “I don’t want us to create hard feelings toward each other, I care about you and I’ll always cheer for you, no matter what you do… but if we continue like this…”

Max rubs his face before raising his voice. “How can you… How can you ask me to give up to you?” He reaches the limit of his patience.

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you I’m the one who is giving up. The one can’t go on. Please, respect my decision.” He shook his head.

I turn around ready to go. “If…can we take time? You are in an important moment and I wasn't with you as we talked about but…” He walks closer but stops avoiding touching me, his eyes try to find something in mine to hold on. “I promised you I'll be there for you, always.”

I face him one more time. “You were.” I smiled at him. “You always were but I want more, and I won’t settle for less.”

“Y/N…” I tried to control the sobbing but it was useless.

“I’m exhausted Max.”

Between those words the lie and truth get twisted.

#fic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #max verstappen imagine

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badbatchposts · 9 months ago

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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 19

Fic Teaser: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18

Chapter 19 summary: Dara's secret is revealed.

“She could not have accessed any information on the clone base or your recent whereabouts from the nav computers. I am certain that she could not bypass my security protocols within that length of time,” Tech reassured Rex. The goggled clone was the only one gathered who seemed unperturbed, so certain was he that Dara could not have discovered anything that would be dangerous for them.

Rex was frowning, brow furrowed. He had already sent Howzer and Gregor back to base to make sure everything was squared away and they were ready to evacuate in case it became necessary, but he was still concerned that they had just been compromised. “You all know Dara better than I do—what do you think? Should we confront her with what we know?”

Hunter shook his head. “I’m not sure. We’ve had our suspicions about her for a while, but she’s always been able to explain away anything unusual. She’s too good a liar—a direct confrontation might not be productive.”

“And she knows now that Omega is on Pabu,” Wrecker pointed out guiltily. He looked uncharacteristically worried, his usually lighthearted nature now weighed down by a storm cloud. “If we don’t find out what’s going on soon, the kid could be in danger.”

“Well, we know from watching her on Ord Mantell that she’s keeping in communication with someone,” Echo noted. “If we manage to find out who, we might learn more about her loyalties.

Behind his goggles, Tech’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “I do have a little project I’ve been working on that might help. I should have enough time to complete it on the return journey.”

Hunter and Rex shared determined nods. “Sounds like a plan,” the Captain agreed. “Be careful.”

“We will, Rex,” Hunter assured him, clasping his forearm. “We’ll let you know what we find out.”

As the others shared goodbyes with Rex, Hunter approached Crosshair, who was standing a little aside from the group, gritting his teeth against a toothpick so hard it was liable to snap in half any moment. The Sergeant grasped his brother’s shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m sorry, Crosshair,” Hunter murmured. “I know you were just starting to trust her. I hope…” he hesitated a moment, not sure what else he could say.

Crosshair shrugged him off, looking away. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “It’s long past time we find out what she’s hiding, anyway.”

***

The trip back to Ord Mantell felt interminable. Crosshair, certain that Dara would attribute his behavior to their spat from the night before, made no effort to disguise his foul mood. Wrecker, on the other hand, was so worried that he would give away their suspicions—he was a terrible liar and a worse actor—hat he locked himself in the bunkroom pretending to sleep the entire time. Echo and Tech sequestered themselves in the cockpit working on Tech’s project. Luckily, Dara didn’t seem particularly companionable either, and spent most of the journey quietly watching the lights of hyperspace pass by while weaving her leather cords together.

“We’re just gonna deliver the goods to Cid, if you have anything you need to do today,” Hunter informed Dara gruffly upon landing.

Dara smiled. “Yeah, I have a few errands. Meet you at the bar later!” She gave them all a quick wave over her shoulder as she exited the hangar.

Tech burst into action as soon as she was out of sight. “Here,” he announced, shoving a small device into Crosshair’s hands. “For listening in. This button turns it on; this dial locates the desired conversation.”

With a nod, the sniper took his usual route to the rooftops to pursue Dara through the streets. He didn’t have to keep a close eye on her; he was certain she would be headed to Old Ord Salvage. Sure enough, a short time later he was watching through his scope as she entered the little shop. He activated the device and routed the feed to his helmet, fiddling with a knob to scan among the sounds it was picking up until he heard her voice.

“—here to pick up a special order for Tarr Puloc.”

“Right this way,” the shopkeeper replied. A few moments passed before he heard someone else speak.

“Dara. I know that you know it’s dangerous to talk directly, so I also know that this must be important. Do you need an extraction?” She was communicating via holo; the deep, masculine voice of her contact sounded familiar to him.

“Nothing like that. I’m safe, but I have some information that we urgently need to discuss,” Dara replied. Despite the urgency she professed, her tone was matter-of-fact, a woman used to reporting in.

“Go ahead,” her interlocutor permitted. Reporting in to a superior, perhaps?

“I mentioned in my first message that I ran into some complications during the last operation and needed to lay low. Well, I got the data, but they caught on to me faster than I expected. Barely made it off world and the shuttle I stole got damaged—couldn’t make it back to my ship. Somebody out there must have it out for me, because I crash-landed right next to an Imperial outpost. I was almost done for, but a squad of mercenaries picked me up right in the nick of time. Said they were former clone troopers.”

Crosshair’s stomach was doing strange things. It had been all morning, since Hunter told them what he had witnessed, but now it was jolting as aggressively as his mind was leaping to conclusions.

“What do you mean said they were clone troopers?” the contact questioned skeptically. “Isn’t a clone trooper obviously a clone trooper? Hard to hide when you all have the same face.”

“That’s just the thing—they were different. Different heights, different weights, different faces.”

“Clone Force 99. Haven’t come across them in a while, but I’d heard they were still operating.” The caller’s voice darkened. Crosshair wracked his brain for why that tone struck such a chord with him, how he knew it—especially since, evidently, it was someone who knew the squad.

“That’s them,” Dara confirmed. “By the time we arrived somewhere with a spaceport, it had been long enough that, if I was tracked, my ship was already being watched. So I decided to tag along with them and find out more. I thought they might be a connection to something I kept hearing about. My sources have been saying that rogue clones are popping up all over. They’re getting organized. I think it’s worth establishing contact.”

“Absolutely not.” The reply was immediate and brooked no disagreement. “Too risky. The clones are the ones who handed the Republic over to the Empire. We can’t trust them.”

Dara was insistent. “That was then. Things have changed. We need the allies, and we need their information. Listen, Saw—it’s Rex. Captain Rex. He’s in touch with the Batch, he’s the one leading the anti-Imperial clone network.”

Crosshair tensed at the name of her contact, his stomach now tumbling off a cliff only to splat at the bottom. That’s why he sounded familiar; she was speaking with Saw Gerrera. Saw, whose rebels had originally been trained by Rex and the Jedi to fight back against the Separatists on Onderon. Whose rebels were now engaging in targeted strikes against the Empire.

And Dara was one of them.

Saw was caught off guard. “Rex… I thought he was dead.”

“We were with him not one rotation ago,” Dara elaborated. “He didn’t recognize me, but it was him. My ability to gather intel was limited—they’re still keeping me on the outside of a lot of things, not all of them trust me. I think it’s time to lay our cards on the table.”

“No,” Saw ordered. “For now, do nothing. Stay with them, win their trust, and continue to collect whatever info you can. If you can find out where they’re based or scope out the size of their network, even better. When we know more, then we can decide if we want to broach a tentative alliance.”

Dara sounded irritated, but did not argue. “Fine. I’ll send you periodic updates.”

“What about the girl? She still with them?” Saw probed.

Crosshair held his breath. At this point, Dara had at least heard mention of Omega and Pabu; Saw would be able to use the information to track them down, or as leverage. It was all he could do to keep still, rather than go running to Cid’s to insist that they needed to get Omega back with them where she would be safe, now.

“What girl?” Dara’s voice didn’t even falter. Was it possible she hadn’t made the connection, with what she’d heard?

“The little blonde. Omega,” Saw clarified. This was it.

“There’s no girl. Maybe they parted ways.”

Crosshair was flooded with relief. She knew, but she wasn’t saying anything. Perhaps she was waiting to learn more.

“Hmm.” Saw’s tone, always stern, became somehow even more serious. “Dara—just be careful. Don’t trust anyone. The Batch turned on the Empire soon after the Order, but not all of them. Jolla and the others—later, we found out—that was their sniper.”

Saw must have disconnected; the only sound Crosshair heard for the next moment was Dara’s sharp inhale of breath at the news. Then a heavy metallic clatter suddenly sounded on the frequency, followed by a furious shriek:

“FUUUUUUCK!”

This time, he thought, Dara was really going to try to kill him.

Crosshair wasn’t surprised to hear Saw mention him. One of his ragtag groups, fighters and civilians alike, were the first ones he had killed in the early weeks after his inhibitor chip was activated, but they were not the last. Even after his chip was removed, he had continued following the Empire’s orders without question—at least, for a while. Now that he had defected and reconciled with his brothers, he mostly tried not to think about it.

Somehow, he didn’t think Dara would be willing to ignore this part of his past.

Wasting no time, Crosshair hurried back to Cid’s parlor to report what he had discovered. He knew Dara couldn’t be trusted. She’d been surveilling them. Lying about who she was, keeping a careful lid on her thoughts and feelings, collecting information that she could report back to her leader. He never should have—

He forcibly interrupted the thought when entered the bar to find his brothers gathered, looking even more serious than when he had left them.

“She’s with Saw Gerrera,” Crosshair growled distastefully.

The Batch had told him of their encounters with the rebel and his Partisans while he had still been with the Empire. Once the man had a goal in mind, he wouldn’t alter his course, no matter the circumstances or the potential collateral damage. Their run-ins had resulted in a few close calls for the squad. Crosshair’s motto while with the Empire—“I’m willing to do what needs to be done”—would not have been entirely uncharacteristic coming from Gerrera.

The squad’s reactions were mixed, including at least one jaw dropped and multiple scowls and furrowed eyebrows, but Echo seemed thoughtful. He didn’t care for some of Gerrera’s methods, but the cyborg’s dedication to the clone network made him the most sympathetic to the rebel’s aims.

“Well, at least she’s not with the Empire,” he acknowledged. “She could be a good point of contact for Rex to make with Gerrera.”

Crosshair was cynical, as always, and still infuriated. “He told her to stay and report back on us and Rex. She’s been spying on us this whole time! She may not be our enemy, but that doesn’t make her an ally,” he argued.

“I…can’t believe she lied to us,” Wrecker lamented, sounding deeply hurt. The Sergeant, for his part, was brooding silently. Like Crosshair, he held little regard for those who put his family at risk.

Behind his goggles, Tech looked as though he were assessing every possible variable, judging all the outcomes; Crosshair could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Dara could potentially be a key source of information for Rex,” Tech suggested. “If she has been spying on us, then it stands to reason that she has access to knowledge on Gerrera’s operation. Now that we are aware, we would simply have to find a way to prevent her from gathering more intelligence while obtaining some of our own.”

“What are you proposing?” Hunter asked suspiciously.

Tech shrugged. “That we take her prisoner and interrogate her.”

The others opened their mouths all at once, but before they could erupt into a debate, they were interrupted by a steady beeping from Tech’s datapad. Adjusting his goggles, Tech glanced down, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Ah. It appears that Omega has grown tired of waiting for us. It seems she took it upon herself to arrange passage off-world shortly after our last call. Rex reports that she has just arrived at his base flying her own transport. Apparently a quite decent one, at that.”

“She what?!” Hunter exploded.

Tech seemed almost proud. “Yes. She indicated that she won it gambling. With pirates.”

“That’s awesome!” Wrecker cheered, mood brightening considerably.

Echo groaned. “We’re raising a criminal.”

Hunter touched a hand to his temple as though he had a headache developing. “We need to get to Omega. Let’s just go. Forget about Dara.”

It was at that unfortunate moment that the woman herself came strolling through the door of Cid’s bar, announcing herself with a “Hello, boys!” Her expression was bright and cheery. It barely wavered as she found herself staring down the barrels of five blasters. She looked from one to the other as each of the brothers clicked over to the stun setting. Slowly, she raised both hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” Crosshair growled. He had seen her fake a surrender only to pull her concealed blaster twice now, and he wasn’t likely to forget it.

Dara held her hands out further in front of her, making it clear she wasn’t going for her weapons. Her eyes looked amused and dangerous all at once. “Well, boys, I suppose it had to come to an end sometime, but it was fun while it lasted.” She began backing away slowly. “I’ll just be on my way, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“I don’t think so.” Crosshair hadn’t gotten to weigh in on the idea of interrogating Dara, but he didn’t want to risk having her expose Omega and their connection to Pabu. He took a step toward her.

Cid chose that rather inconvenient moment to exit her office into the main area of the bar. “What in Sith hells is all this?” she exclaimed.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Dara dove suddenly, knocking over a rickety table for cover, and pulled her blaster, firing stun shots to force the squad to scatter. It was a desperate move—she knew by now that the Batch were much more competent than stormtroopers—but she was only a few feet inside the door. If she managed to make it out, she could lose them in the crowded streets.

The Batch found their own cover as the two sides exchanged blasts, neither able to land a hit. In the background, Cid accompanied them with a nonstop chorus of shrieks about the damage they were inflicting on her bar. Dara glanced quickly toward the door, evaluating the distance and her options for escape.

Dara had learned a lot about the Batch in the weeks prior, but she didn’t count on Wrecker’s size increasing his resistance to stuns. He charged forward, catching one, two of her shots to the chest, but still easily lifted the table she was sheltering behind and threw it across the room. Demonstrating an impressive agility, she managed to dodge the large man and the blasts the others aimed at her as she landed another stun to his back and leapt over the bar counter. Wrecker fell to his knees, not quite out of commission, but still swaying as he struggled to remain upright.

With Dara pinned down behind the bar, there was a moment of silence as Hunter signaled to his squad. Then the exchange of blasts resumed momentarily, dissipating harmlessly against the wall above the bar, as Hunter and Crosshair covered Echo and Tech so they could help drag Wrecker out of the way.

“We just want to talk,” the Sergeant called out when the lull resumed. “Why don’t you come out and we can clear things up?”

Dara was quiet, no doubt strategizing her escape. Then a smoke grenade came hurtling over the bar. Poncho pressed tightly over her nose and mouth to help filter some of the smoke, she ran blindly in the direction of the door.

The last thing she saw before she was stunned was Crosshair’s scowling face above her.

“I told you she’d end up shooting at us eventually,” Crosshair murmured darkly as he watched her collapse.

Next chapter

Author's note: And there it is! Let me know in the reblogs if you predicted at all where this was going.

I feel like the direction I am taking with Saw Gerrera may be somewhat controversial among the fandom. I know he's pretty much universally reviled for his role in Tech's death. However, remember that, in this story's narrative, Crosshair manages to return to the Batch instead of going to Tantiss after Mayday's death, preventing that series of events. Additionally, I find Saw to be a really fascinating character in a political sense--I think in some ways his characterization is symptomatic of the US cultural tendency to portray anarchist leftists as making extreme, even irrational decisions for the sake of undermining the validity of many of the ideologies that they profess. Then again, based among my experiences in leftist organizing, I think Saw embodies a lot of true and shitty characteristics of some people on the left. I'll still be characterizing him true to canon here, so he'll make some of those incredibly shitty decisions, but I hope to use these ideas to explore more why he is the way he is and have his interactions with Dara add some nuance to the politics and motivations of the Partisans.

ANYWAY. We've now reached a part of the story that I have had drafted for a long time, so I'm planning on posting two chapters a week for a little while as we examine the fall out from this reveal! How is Crosshair going to deal with this revelation? What will they do with Dara? When will Omega finally enter this story? WHEN WILL THERE FINALLY BE SMUT??? It's all coming up!

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

#the bad batch #star wars #clone force 99 #bad batch #tbb crosshair #the bad batch fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction

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domainedewinter · 10 months ago

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The Price Of Fire 2/4 🔥

In the dragon's den

Summary: After making a deal, Aemond agrees to help the young Lady Martell find answers about her origins, on the sole condition of bringing her with him to the Keep.

Warnings: DUBCON, TYPICAL TARGARYEN INCEST, profanity, innuendo, he/him pronouns, you pronoun, fingering, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, misogyny, toxic behaviour, Dom!Aemond, begging, underage HOTD style, nsfw.. (coming soon, I will indicate the chapters containing smut with a 🔥)

Rating: 18+, MDNI

English is not my first language

The flame that was born in the prince's spirit—and body—is visible in his eyes, something you quickly notice, even through its mere reflection on the blade of his dagger.

"There is a place where you might find answers, but for that, you will have to follow me."

Suspicious, you step away from him, already regretting the warmth against your back, a thought that destabilizes you. Why do you want to stay in the arms of a man as dangerous and unpredictable, holding a dagger before your eyes?

Your logic seems to have disappeared along with your survival instinct because now that you are facing him, you know that no matter where he wants to take you, you will follow him.

"Follow you where?"

"Your Grace. My Prince. Choose what you prefer, but where we are going, you will have to address me as you should have from the beginning." Saying this, he steps closer, placing the flat of the blade under your chin, lifting your face towards his, now in front of you. This allows you to see him more closely, admiring his lilac eye, cold and burning at the same time, as his breath caresses your lips. "Do you think you are capable of doing that, Lady Martell? Is it acceptable if I call you that? Perhaps by the end of the night, we will have a more fitting name to offer you..."

He removes the dagger before you can respond and steps back.

"Yes, my Prince. I will know how to apply the protocol and lower my eyes when we encounter a living soul. I can display good manners, contrary to what you may believe."

"You haven't given me the opportunity to witness that until now."

He walks past you, taking a few steps towards Vhagar and turning his slender, angular face towards you, a smirk forming on his lips as he gestures to the creature. "The Red Keep. That's where we are going. To the king's private library, to be more precise. I will read to you what you need to know and—"

"No need for you to read to me, my prince, I can read. I understand several languages and study philosophy. But if some writings seem incomprehensible to me, I will appeal to your good heart to help me."

The tone of your voice is mocking but playful, not to hurt but to tease, something Aemond is definitely not used to and which ignites a strange and unfamiliar desire within him, coursing through his body like an electric current.

He does not respond but does not lose his smile as he takes your hand—without you resisting this time—and leads you to Vhagar. She is impressive, enormous, and terrifying, yet deep down, the desire to climb on her back overwhelms the urge to flee. "Are you afraid, Lady Martell?"

His tone is still mocking, but he looks at you with an interest and curiosity you do not notice as you are fascinated by the animal.

"It takes a lot to scare me, and I am ready to do much to know who I am." You reply in a breath before letting him help you mount. His presence behind you, securing your ascent, his hands on your hips when you reach the top, and the warmth of his chest against your back when he seats you in front of him, tightening the straps between him and the saddle to keep you safe, all feel too pleasant, almost intoxicating. And this is exactly how he feels too; Aemond is intoxicated by the scent of your long silver hair gently brushing against his face, by your warm and vibrant body between his arms when Vhagar cleaves the air and takes you above the clouds.

The journey is swift, so you savor every moment, trying to silence the obvious voice of your conscience shouting at you not to let yourself be trapped in a castle, far from everyone you know, no one aware of your presence there. The prince could do exactly what he wants with you once you are there; he could even feed you to his dragon if he wished, and yet, you cannot feel worry, only impatience and excitement.

The Keep is as you imagined, mainly because your father described it to you, like many castles or important places. Aemond is courteous in helping you dismount, the dragon keepers casting surprised and curious glances but not daring to question their prince.

Upon arriving at the library he spoke of, you can only look up and scan each shelf, each row of books, a look of wonder on your face, illuminated only by the candlelight.

"There are hundreds of books... it would take a lifetime to read them all."

Seeing you smile as you run your fingers over some of them, Aemond surprises himself by doing it, a quick smile that leaves a slight smirk on his lips as he follows you, always a few steps behind. "What do you want to know?"

There are far too many things you would like to ask, and the night will not last forever, so you focus. "The families of dragon riders and silver-haired people. If I am one of them, if I am the..." you hesitate to pronounce word you have always avoided hearing whispered in the corridors by ill-intentioned mouths, "If I am the bastard of one of them, I would at least like to know their names."

"Hm. Unfortunately, we do not record... unwanted births, but you can get an idea of who might have done this."

As he invites you to sit at a dark wooden table, three large candles illuminating his amused features as he leans over you. "If you are indeed a Targaryen, then it would be a crime in my eyes to have abandoned such a beautiful specimen of our blood," His hand places a book before you before caressing your cheek, never letting his single indigo eye leave you, "to have given to the Martells one of ours, one of those who belongs to us."

This sentence sends strange shivers through your body, your breath catching before you understand what is happening; Aemond quickly leans towards you, his lips touching yours, warmer than you would have thought compared to his coldness.

Your eyes remain wide open, not knowing what to do, mesmerized by what is happening.

Backing away or defending yourself would be an offense to the prince.

Welcoming his surprising advance might encourage him to think you want more.

And despite the different paths before you, you stop thinking, closing your eyes when his long fingers wrap around your hair, just above your nape and grip, just enough to keep your face against his as his kiss deepens, his tongue demanding access to your mouth.

Having forgotten to breathe for too long, you take a breath, opening your mouth just enough to let the air reach you again, but it's not just air that enters, it's Aemond's skillful and precise tongue caressing yours.

And just as hearing him speak High Valyrian gave you strange butterflies in your stomach, feeling his tongue dance with yours ignites a warmth between your legs, the same kind of warmth you have felt after witnessing some rather special and heated evenings in the chambers of Dorne.

As if Aemond could read your thoughts, he pulls back, finally releasing your mouth but keeping your hair in his hand. He speaks so close to your lips that you can feel the warmth of his breath.

“The Dornish are said to have loose morals and greatly enjoy the pleasures of the flesh without the slightest shame. Did they raise you like this? Have you ever tasted the warmth of a man - or even a woman?" His hand slides out as he sits in a chair next to you, turning you to face him as his hand lands where he wants it, right at the bottom of your belly. Your whole body tenses, your gaze sliding to his hand before staring back at him, anticipating his next action. “Have you ever lost your purity?”

This time his hand comes to rest where no one has ever touched you before.

You feel your cheeks blush violently and place your two hands on his chest - of which you feel through the fine leather the Prince's muscles, trained, strong, dangerous - pushing in the hope of making him step back to show him your disagreement on his way of doing things.

“Stop it!” You whisper violently, pushing him away with more force, but the man doesn't move, amused to see your reaction.

“Answer me, and we’ll think together to find out who forced you to live so far from home.”

"No. No I haven't lost my purity, who do you take me for? I’m not a whore!”

You know, however, that in Dorne, there is no shame in indulging in pleasure, but you have never felt the need to touch or be touched, preferring to watch whenever the opportunity presented itself to you.

Aemond Targaryen laughs softly, before placing another kiss, this time on your forehead. This gesture surprises you but you don't move, far too stunned to initiate anything, waiting for his next move. On the beach you had more confidence, but here, it is no longer neutral territory, it is his home, you are within his walls, you allowed yourself to be invited into the dragon's den and followed him without precaution.

“You see me surprised - in the good sense of the word.” he adds without losing his amused look as he puts the chair back correctly to sit properly next to you. But the damage is done; he gave birth to something in you that you cannot silence.

You spend several hours talking together, him teaching you all that you still don't know about royalty, the blood of dragons, and their masters, while you inform the prince with as many details as possible about the night you were entrusted to the Martells.

Preferring to avoid prying eyes and ears, Aemond eventually takes you to his quarters; a vast room where the fire purrs in the fireplace, illuminating the space with an orange glow.

Your steps would like to be hesitant, but you do not allow yourself the slightest visible weakness, entering with your head held high while he slips behind you. It is only when the door to his room closes that you turn around, swallowing hard as you look at him. His gaze has changed; it resembles more the predator you met on the beach than the patient man who instructed you tonight in the library.

"I should go back... the night is already well advanced, and I don't think I can provide any more information to our reflection."

He nods, his hands behind his back as he approaches. And with each step he takes towards you, you have the presence of mind to take one back, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between you two.

But this sense of security is illusory, you realize when the back of your knees meets a surface not so hard and you fall seated on one of the sofas.

"Do I frighten you, little girl?"

You want to tell him that you are not frightened and, even less, his little girl, but the words remain stuck in your throat, as does your breath. You are not afraid of him in a literal sense; it is something far worse than that: an attraction, a need to taste his lips, to touch his skin, to know his thoughts, and, when he is so insufferable, to silence him with your mouth on his.

Perhaps he reads your thoughts again because, narrowing his eye slightly, he smiles and leans over you, placing his hands on the back of the sofa, trapping you between it and his body, then places his lips on yours again.

The kiss is short but warm, calling for more.

“You’ve probably heard a lot of things about us, about our family. You are well aware that our marriages remain – as much as possible – within the family, that we keep the blood pure, for our perfect lineage.”

“Yes” you whisper under your breath as he doesn’t even pull away, speaking against your mouth, brushing it, pulling back just enough to look at your beautiful eyes that captivate him a little more with each second he spends admiring them.

“If you are truly one of us and, from what I can already see from your features, body and temper, seems to me the only truth, then that means that you have to return to the Targaryens. That you should be one of us and, since I’m the one who found you, don’t you think I should be the one to claim you?”

Claim you.

His words paralyze you and warm you at the same time, a shiver running through your body whose chest rises and falls to the rhythm of your newfound breath, which accelerates at this simple thought.

“I know what they say about those who raised you; unbowed, unbent, unbroken.. just like Targaryen women can have a fiery temperament but, you know, I have tamed the greatest and most terrifying of dragons, no doubt I will succeed in tamming your fire.”

Anticipating your reaction, when you try to get up to get out of his grip and escape, Aemond places his knee on the sofa, between your legs, forcing you to stay under him and grabs your hair with one hand, tangling his fingers harshly in your silver locks before throwing himself on your mouth, devouring you with a kiss more passionate than you ever dreamed of receiving. You feel him smile against your mouth as he allows you to breathe again and wish his smile didn't have that effect on you.

His other hand slides between your legs and, over the fabric of your loose Dornish pants, begins to caress you with his fingertips, initiating an electric shock of desire that immediately tightens your stomach and makes your cheeks burn.

“Since this little precious thing is still pure and untouched, I should make it mine to ensure that no other man, unworthy of you, ever takes possession of it.”

You arch under the delicious sensation and the promise of belonging to this man so sure of himself, wanting to make you his.

“I...I can’t.” You try to articulate, pressing your forehead to his before staring at him, trying to look sure of yourself when only desire shines in your clear eyes. “If I let you take this from me, my father will never be able to mary me, I will be wasted, impure.”

His grip tightens in your hair to the point of making you yelp in pain, your brows furrowing in fear and surprise.

“You will never be impure for having been touched by a dragon... And you are much more naive than I thought if you imagine that I am going to let you leave without having tasted you, without having made you mine and above all,” he grabs your face between his fingers, forcing you to look up at him, “do you think I have no words and would leave you after that? If I want your body tonight, it’s to claim it for life.”

You feel your body tremble under his as his fingers begin a dance between your legs which makes you moan softly, your arms coming to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, just long enough for an intense kiss as he straightens up, standing in front of you as he removes his leather tunic, revealing a perfectly sculpted, lean and muscular torso that your fingers instantly want to roam over.

He sees how you devour him with your eyes and smirks again.

“Do you like what you see, my dear? How unfair it is to look without giving. Get up."

Since you hate being ordered around, you just stare at him for a moment, deliberately causing the Prince to huff with envy the second you stand up to him, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him, standing at your turn. “Obeying is not your strong point, we’re going to have to work on that.”

“I’m not easy to lead, if you want to make me yours, you’ll have to be convincing.”

He knows that you are of his blood, he senses it in your warmth but especially in your temperament; you could be his sister, with the provocative side of Aegon and the fearless side of himself. “Don’t underestimate me, pretty flame, I will be happy to tame you..”

With a quick movement, he reverses the roles, positioning himself with his back to the sofa and removing what remains of his clothes before sitting down, his pretty lilac eye still fixed on you. “Take off your clothes, and don’t keep me waiting, otherwise my hands will find their way to your pretty white skin to make it blush.”

More simple words and yet they only increase the tension and wetness between your legs, forcing your thighs to clench together in hopes of quenching the urge.

A vain hope.

Wanting to trap him at his own game, you slowly undo the fabric at the top of your tunic, revealing one shoulder, then the other, sliding the fabric up your arm before letting it fall to your waist, offering his eye envious of your upper body, your breast and your stomach.

You see with amusement and pride his manhood, harder than ever, demanding attention and reacting instantly to the sight of your body which he finds inexorably perfect.

Aemond resists the urge to touch you, just long enough to allow you to fully entertain yourself, which you do far too slowly for his liking. Then his will disappears and he grabs the waistband of your loose pants, quickly opening it and making the fabric fall to your ankles, which you quickly discard, now completely naked in front of him.

He denies you any modesty as he looks at you, his gaze creating a burning fire wherever it lands on you, but you let him do until he grabs you by the waist and brings you to him, astride his lap.

A gasp of surprise and apprehension escapes you but soon, his hand caresses your hip, slowly, possessively. His other hand finding the path he had initially taken a few minutes earlier. You feel him caress your slit, several times while his thumb circles around your pearl of pleasure. You bite your lips to try to control yourself but after such a short few minutes, you find yourself unable to control the slight movements of your body which seek to meet Aemond's hand, breathless.

“Don’t try to hide from me the pretty melody I’m going to make you sing.” He orders you gently, an order to which you do not object this time, giving free rein to the murmurs that the pleasure he offers you gives rise to. His finger presses at the entrance to your body, several times, penetrating you as you cling to his shoulders, lowering yourself a little on him, so close to his manhood that, when you realize it, you jump slightly for fear of losing control.

“Easy, I won’t take you until I hear you cum first.”

The timbre of his voice is sufficient, proud, but the pleasure he gives you justifies his pride to the point where you don't even respond to him, feeling the characteristic pressure of pleasure forming in the lower part of your belly, stronger and stronger as his finger curls inside you to caress then relentlessly hammer this sweet spot that makes you see stars.

His other hand presses against your lower back, accentuating your arch as you lose control of your body.

“Aemond..Aem-”

“I know, I have you, little flame, give me what I want, soak my fingers with your pleasure to give me the reward of tasting you.”

It doesn't take much more for you to cum, tightening your velvet walls, hot and soaked on his finger as his thumb caresses you at a frantic pace.

Your foreheads instinctively press together and as your eyes close, he could swear he’s seen that expression on a woman’s face before.

Forehead pressed to that of the man she loves. Soothed. Confident.

He puts this thought in a small corner of his mind, determined to explore this theory, but not now.

He rides your orgasm until it becomes too much and then gently withdraws his finger, sucking it before your amazed eyes.

“Next time, I will drink directly between your legs, and you will know why only my name will pass your lips.”

Your eyes shine and the desire is instantly reborn when you hear it. Your hands wander over his chest, knowing what is likely to happen now, welcoming his hands on your hips without flinching then, slowly you decide to play your role in your lovemaking and take matters into your own hands, sliding your soaked slit along his manhood, which does not than make him groan with envy. Once again you feel the pleasure coming over you every time his cock comes to caress your pearl and the only thing you have in mind is to feel him slipping into you.

“I wanted to give you a little break but it seems that you are stronger than I imagined.”

With a devouring kiss, he conquers your mouth before adding; “Before the moon sets, you will be mine.”

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